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N0178. VOL. VII. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS. 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y.

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THE LOCKED HEART; omsm CARYIfSMSACRIFIOE.

 

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AUTHOR or “ MADCAP, mm mm QUAXERESS,” “THE WAR OF Bums,” me, no.

 

 

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THE LOCKE.,D__._ HEART. "

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 minorities;

83.8 GABYL’S SACRIFICE.
A Young Girl’s Romance.
 CORINNE WSW.
,, animus Lem, ,
' A moon of golden moonlight pchned

 

down

‘ u ’ alon veranda, whose slender illarswere
stay-’1'“ will.

jessamine andhoneysu ; not far
' way the broad glitter of the summer ocean;
mares-at hand a smooth lawn sparkling with
dew; a parterre of brilliant flowers showing
I lilies and roses almost as distinctly as if it were
day instead of evening; a fountain flowering on
its silver xterm—over a] throu b all, the
*low boomof theseaon the s on an the soft
rustle of wet leaves movingmin the night wind.
There were lights shining m the muslin-dra-
ried windows which opened on the veranda,
0 sound of a piano on which the bewitching
waltces of Chopin were being played, and the
shadOws‘of anumber'of persons moving about
in the long drawing-room, with occasional
bursts of silver laughter or the doc r tones of-
Iome manly voice; but none of been things
had for the present, any interest for the oung
‘ emnn and led who were slowly pacing up
and down the pore The lady was very young
and small and slieh not more than seventeen
--a girl just out also 001 the previous May, and
this was June. Her face was sometimes lift
 sometimes drooped as sheclung to her com-
:nganion’s arm, who bent his stately head low to
W the pusionate words he had brought
fiber out there in the golden moonlight to say to

~ fiber. That face, whenxshe raised it so that the

a brown hair clinging to her white fo

 

I, light fell full upon it, was one of those ' lish
ifaces all bloom and swoetness, at it h , too,
‘more character than most at t age. The
rosebud lips were set together in a line indies;
tive of firmness, and the delicate brows had a.
' s irited curve; but this only made her lowel »
’ eatures more bright and captivating. A
' of meltin dark eyes looked out from the covert
of ion , t iok, curling lashes. Those eyes and
., those es alone would have made Cicely Faye
beautiful. Little tendrils and rin of soft
cad gave
her a childlike, appealmg' look which contra-
dicted the spiri curves of mouth and eye-
 brows. In her white summer dm her heavy
 hair braided in a lo braid down her back, her
.4 cheeks glo with t inetfable bloom which
; only the thin est roses can rival, she seemed a
tender, conflding, soft little creature to be loved
and cared for almost like a bub .
. The man who walked beside er, g into
,her thrilled ear the first love-words wh the
i had ever listened, was Sir Caryl Crossley, a per-

.on who had the reputation of bein a My"

“ Never 1" in antly ' .
“Then thusandnostesliouformyown,
precious Cicely.”
ance hehad pressed the kissof upon
thesacred bloomofthoserosylips. I _
“Now, Cicely, you will have tomrry me!
New Ilmow. you will some do bem little
wifel Bayou , ylovemelit wi ‘i'l‘ell;
figthat you do! an wild tohesryousay

“I donot knowcnoughabout such matters to
be sure,” answered the silvery voi while
Cicely smiled mischievously to hide t soft
confusion into which his kiss had begged her,
“ but ‘I. think I do. Are you satisfied th that,

Sir Caryl?”

“ Yes. Ando a thousand thanks for saying
it my sweet! ill you call me Caryn—leave
ed the ceremonlous ‘ sir,’ little Cicely. ’

The episode of the kiss over, they walked on
again, up and down the flower- t veran-

king fast andl'ew the moon 

ing on e glittering ocean, the. ovely earth, and
on two faces bright with the go, the ever-
wonderful, the ever-novel, the bio
rapture of young love. » » v ‘
‘ They will miss us, and wonder," Cicely
pleaded more than once, but her lover would
not put an end to the magic of this first hour of
avowed love until finall an elder sister came
to the hall~door and
they were wanted to make up a set of (the Len-

“Weare co ,”answered SirCaryl, gaylyr
then—when the intruder had retreated—eerie
ously, tothe young girl on his arm: “ One mo-
ment, Cicel i-you are sure that I am your first
and only oicel” '

“Quite sure. Why I have been home from

school ut a monthi What a jealous creature
‘ you will he i”
“I have heard of girls on serious
or love-affairs at so 00 Cicely. I
[merelywlsh to assure myself that my future
‘ wife has never thus lowered herself."

“Youwill have to take my word for it, Sir
Caryl.” The bright egos flashed, the rose-leaf
big quiver-ed, the lig t little hand was with-

, wn from his arm.

“There, there, little one! Come back to me!
You must forgive me, but I have perhaps,
a sadder , once then most men. want no
one ever to have had the slightest claim on
you. I want you all my own. But I will
say nomore about it. I ove you In madl’ y,
w th all the long-repressed power and '
ng’ nature, that it will kill me

to

sion of s. stro
if g'ever happens to make me really
1ealous of l It. You would be almost afraid
a one, if on knew how much I
love york how much trust how terri-
ble woul‘ be my disappointment if an

‘, man, by whose attentions all ladies f t flatter-

;edgs gentleman who had been reported “en- ever come between us. Nothing ever must—
f‘gaged' ‘on numerous occasio but who had sver'shallhmto cause mete distrust you,
.  reached theage of twenty-six thout evera—so my'angpll they Will wonder at our lin-
' ' far as his friends knew—having had a very get-lug.

 “#:1313336 flown” dealer ,_ They  gay pin the draw
 so a- e cards great gomip roo w

3 about Kim gators she ever met him- even m, ’

. now
 as he talked to herin a way that set her heart t5
 throbbing wildly with delicious triumph .

1 do a 3‘} “"t‘fdyfii with raw“
0 u an n u ‘ em, as! - '
himif he were seriougat est. a ' l '
» “ How do I know whether or noteto 
 V’sbe aske¢afterhe hadsaida

" gs ver earnestly. ":1 have alwaysbeard of

~ you as a Sir Caryl. _ , -

“ on you have heard me viler slaudered,
1 Cicelylfayel I will telldyou how far my flirt»
,, tions ve gone. lam chand idle; Iputng
, time at the disposition of such ladies, merri

' or single, as desire to make use of it :6:- their

, ,own amusement. I have never yea I solemnlg
assure yo led a woman on to ‘_ e that
 loved her; at I have allowed many women to
. lead me on, thinking I Was in love With them. I
. gave given tplay téihtllireir vagity, their artifll , ce,
; sir coqueryor e cove usness, as
 it am them. Do you Mame 
 sweet little Cicely?” » , , p
’ “ I hardly know,” she stemmered. , . 
“And the reason I have seriously and solemn-

? mi are pure and artless and  f '
never been  contact  in,
dust. You will

iilrl- No betel-snowman.th

 'madechoioeof omafterthwe oaths _ _ ,
ignewomantosskgibeoomemy   ‘ '

l!
,k’. . ’., l-

W
try-house downb esea ‘ so
and Therewere, eggy‘gigl‘hflsheraandare-
'centlyomarrled sister eel ’s, but none of
them tum”

heal ,,I M, ominous» ftrus
myown yow‘ngure‘

as.“ a , , .,f' ,._i, ,

tingmadetheevenin ’ t coun-

tly.

pr
' d roach hen the
 pet of ouseholdjw
Mommas and W W
nsci

so swee so artless, so un-

co  of her t fas§lnation was Cicel
,Faye that girls odor and less popular
‘ be jealous of her. / .
Her sweet face wore a dreamy look of happio
noes the remainder of that eventful evening;
 htcame,andshewasaione m
' mall is chamber, an expression of
*mcare settl ' cc, and she

ved a . breaking sigh.
“ If i should ever hear of that 1” she whis-
Moira; stood by her windowand stared up
attire blue  with troubled eyes.
. g  -——-——-’~ ‘
CHAPTER II.
m also 1' mm.
. t followedon. Sir I

 over its

AM“

as
We
,, ,n withhissuitf t
lmumptal , or
4.11

beeh‘acce ted. The
and" air ‘ hsd
hisside,ths

  

 

 

- 7 are ‘ his 1:
Before ‘sheoouldmake amovement of resist ' and. dubbed it the 3‘
betrothal

led them. saying that ‘

ially screening the li lenook which
‘ K3? la named‘

 

6’ century-old .

levels  Miniaan "' dthisaalntyf ' . \ ~ * _, ' use! it 0113 038th,

‘- handor resteda hissupon those sweethps. As-  onflfiseollms,  see—a
sureme hisis darlingCicel 1 Has anyother w » housewiths we W”that'n0.md8‘
man ever made we to you, yl’l I . V V the ocean V even shake.  There were

“Never! never!" . ' y. m ,nt unds about it; a high stone wall
“ Ever cu!” he of? mu V of the see-breece; and the view of

.w odown andwider seas were very fine.
. Captain Fa ‘ anomcer reth‘ed'on, half.pa ,
had 9 ' quite near the water
my" only aboui
two years before. His wife’s money had paid

for the place, after :which {she had enou h left
to add much to their comfort' otherwise ‘ in-
come would not have aflorded them all ' ele‘

an!» and even luxury of their style of living.
upmfiy": hfihmth” Kashmm“; “'32

e , was, a an
ab ematch ora baronet. -‘ .

Cliff Castle and the Rookery were only about
amile apart. both ofthem closetothesea. Be-
neath the clifl's was a mouth, safe bench, that
it was ible' when the tide was out-an even
when t was in, unless unusually stormy—to
make I way from one ' to the other by
the sands. There was no 51m in all England
more delightful than this 111 e-long strip of 
take it b sunset or mooni'ise, or any time 0
night or , and it wasa famritehaunt of vis-
itors to ho country-seats. ,, The hottest June
morning was breezyand comiortable‘there.

v Perhaps’ there was nothing strange in the fact
that Sir Caryl arosea full hour earlierrthe last

» morning in June. than had been his custom.

His love for Cicely Faye was a passion so new
and so eventful that it kept him as restless as he
was hap y. Half a dozen young fellows, from
some‘of t e best families 0 the coun , were
staying with himat the castle, having is t Lon-
don but a few days since: he know, however,
that none of them would think of coming down
Ilzgaebreatitanst thefore atfixaatgclocké—theygi ad fill

n u a sm c ng—party ven' y
Mrs. cyst?» their benefit the previous cvenin
-—-and it was now here) seven; and Sir Cary
thinking of Cicely. an of how love] she had
looked when she bade blush-moi t, soggy
Opened a window of the st-room d
strolled out on the dewy lawn. The air was
close and sultry, p a scorchin day. A
breath of salt air reach his nost luring
him to the win ' -path which led doWn to the
sea, dimpling in t morniag light. Here all
was cool and fresh; he stroll on and on, inth-
ing the deliciOus odor of the brine, and ing
of-that pure and artless girl whom he was teach-
in to love him.

, delicious reverie held him in its thrall. He
knewthat the Books was not farawa , though ’
thelow cliffsshut it mhis ‘ ht. nearto
her he loved—her he thought to

in her  0 her,
e seemed one with the great sea and sky.
is love,in that solitaryhour,grew to be1 a
solemn, wond , matter.
Therewas a of rock onwhich Cicelyand
it: mm” was. run snowmen.
'7 1‘- P
byltge Fay hung down from the sort goggle,
{) ‘ n’s Bower." SirCaryyl '
slim u tbsl , seatedhimselftorest,
afifimhza hafar figsewhitesaiMrggy
risen sun, were coming u on e
horizon from the under world. p
Hehad beenseatedhere afewmlnuteswhsn
he heard a light footstep 0n the damp sands be-
neath, and locals; over, he‘ looked down, and, .‘
to his great surprise, saw Cicely walking there
alone. His flrstimpulsewes tocall outta her.
and then puzzle her, by withdrawing his head,
so that she would not ve him. Then fol-
lowed before behaddone this a second impulse
to watch her for a little, while she was uncon-
sciousol' his presence. .
a deansweet, innocent little thing she

was!

What beautiful hair !--for it was unbralded,
as he had never-before seen i  below
her waist, catcbi the-11g: on its waves until
the brown threads it].de gold.

‘Howrblessed was he almve all other men tobe
the first to win the devotion of such a nature!
How the fellows tsunami '

like harlover,  unableto sleep

envied
last night!
Had she,

 

I

 

 

- a  iLOCKED HEART.

 

 

.‘Hts' eal‘ ' been the;
curse oil a filigwhich should'have , it most for-
tunate and p rous. _‘ ' '
. Ag], for whagwasCicely Faye out so only
On e beach,alone7 Whomhad she come to
“‘3’” width“: “hm “
.e was e ong suspense. ,
Outfrombehixiidarockstretc closer-to
the sea than others glided a man. lcely gave
a little cry when she saw him.
ceful, handsome as an angel. .
here, waiting, holding out his and Cicely
run straight into them. Cicely mned her
"m ib‘lii “glanwk’tid melee“: 13%"? “E3
over on one . y . w W?
had issued, ir ltliht never man but him
had breathed a hen of love over the bloom of
her young life! Had she not vowed to him
that a man had never ‘ressed his lips to her
Own? Yet she chm to t is ung fellow, drew
' 11 head down on 2‘ she der, and there the
two stood and whispered together Cicel every
moment looking anxiously around as afraid

of being observed—of being detected in this

clandestine acquaintanceship.

Oh, it was shameful! it was nothing less than
the vilest deceit! Sir Cal-{1’s heart, broke from
the thrall where it was eld motionlem for a
long minute, and beat and thundered against
hissideingreat shecksthat shook hisverybo-

mg, as the sea shook the shore when it beat

ainstitinsomef " storm. '

ow could he look upon that eight and live!

He had van that girl the long-kc ,t treasures
of his faith and love—given them ly, fully,
toutily— out at her small feet the lavish
riches a nature thathad long been boarded
(or one like her. ‘

0h, base and ruinous deceit!

His dark face blanched with wrath, his brows

awn together, his lips cut by the unconscious
Pressure of his teeth, his eyes contracted and
emitting rays of sullen ' ht, Sir l—usnall
ll0 gay and ‘ Mire—was not a p easant per-
son to look u 11 during that fifteen minutes. If
he had 1 his revolver near at hand this un—
knogin rival might not have lived to leave the

sen .
. It was evident that the interview between
cely and the stranger was stolen and secret——
that she avmded observation—that the man was
in haste to get efl before intruders might, chance
I: n_th_e beach. He gave Cicely a letter. which
6 hld in her bosom. Then, with a few more
murmured words and another ardent embrace

the two ted the n ntleman hu -
lug away the directiziiufrgge which he cazye,
Soon bei lost to sight behind the rocks from
where he emerged, while Cicely walked up

and dawn a few moments as it struggling to
. regain her ordinary 1
lion before  by others. '

It had been tail of Sir Caryl
mall down and appear more her, overwhelm-
ing her with the scam and contempt which
l‘agedin hisbreest; but thatve rage was so
overmasteiing that he struggl vainly with
himself for war to movggxak. Before he
could ently control to descend the
$31!: and deal with her as she :deserved, Cicely

Form, ormoreBlr lremainedon
theclifl .erin suehtormentsasonlythe
mid“ kaigusycandevise. Ashegrew
. h-basuntoreaimtmthmpmmy
,hl’ebemilxifimationoftheecene he had

eased- It fitbrinstance, that Cicely
hadfibmthor 0h committed some crime

for. which he was obliged to'k'eep in hiding but
whomshestillloved. : \ t r ’
*vi'shrm’fis “3533‘ ” “a...th
- a never , of. .3 m]
auntie as I 'ng the fair tameo¥ the F3“.
e had never heard of. any brother, except the
I one whowas nowan ofiicer out in Canada—a

man far older than this fair-faced, silken-mus;

bashed outh who had held Cicel in-his
fiteemgrace. There were two  s on.

i one at home with the family at

_ Email ‘ th
> other living in London in flmstvle, or bus as ‘ C3"

“‘9 Wealth Lord Fairfax. 17m fellow was
neither 0‘“ e brothers-imlam
C,1‘70 den be some poor part! with whom
1091? had fallen love when awa at» school,
and Why, either because he was of a, ow family
0" was ‘r ” or in some way unworthy, dared
not pursue his suit; openly. Oh, what a base,
[Whats worldl nathre Cicel must have, touc-
Oepb hw atten 'ons, because was the rich bar-
onet,‘ the owner of Clix": Castle, while her heart
“5 fixedenthis handsome youngster! She was

Willlu tabe‘tha wifezofi8ir13ary’ lCrossle ,of
cm castle, while she , her joys to thiayhn-

431mm}? “3'3” land) t his h
an ear mee azewhen e
Questioned her over the hgd indulzed ine

raisedher sweete es '

 

moi». - romance, and had ‘- denied iti Per-
haps, i she had then confessed and repented he
mi ht have been fool soon to forgive her-—
bu , now! Ah! what echo , strangling sigh
opgressed him i - I
it Ca 1 arose and went feebgy down to the
beach. he sun still shone, the mpling waves
threw up their diamonds, but all was dark and
wretched to his eyes. He looked at his watch;
itwas after nine: he must be making his way
ome.
“Sir Caryl. are ill!” was his valet’s in—
quiry, as hereach
room

And that wastheqnestionre tedto him by
each guest as became into the reakfast—room—
“ Are you ll Sir caryil" And the baronet was

'ven to ma ng a woman’s reply: ‘

“ Only a headache.” 

He hedandjestedinawildkindcfway,
all the time so ale and gloomy between his
eflorts to be gay t at his guests understood him
to be making a brave endeavor to entertain
them, and begged hilnnot to mind them in the
least, but totake care of himself, and not to allow
himself to fall sick, not to fret about them, they
would amuse themselves, to return to bed and
sleep on! his headache, to send for a physician,
andso forth, andsoforth. - -

Finally he induced them all to off for a
day’s sail on his yacht—ell, save Har ey St. Cyr,
the oldest of the set, a gentleman of thirty or
more, and general-l the coder of every enter-
prise, but who, y, declared he abominated
yachting, and was going to remain home and
nurse his end.

St. Cyr was the on] one of his six or seven
visitors about whom it Caryl felt any doubts
as to introducing him to the ladies. t that
St. Cyr was ta in the fashionable society
of London; on the contrary, he was a prime fa-
vorite there: but he was known to be unscrupu-
lous in the 't of pleasure, and also to obtain

Y ‘ tan b of the money with which he was enabled

to l vein the most luxurious manner bywinning
it at cards tram younger men. This gentlemen
Sir Caryl had to t some regret in taking to the
Rookery, but could not avoid it seeing that he
went there every day with other guests. He had
a logined privatel to Mrs. Faye saying that
EgoCyr was not 0 immaculate c racter, at
was a good fellow in his way, who had rat or
forced an intimacy in London and invited him.
  Castle. t m n“, I
e a ver grea vo , assure

Mrs. Fa e; and)yuu need not be troubled afgst
his ge me into scrapes, for I never go. hie,
andam deno hto be on myguard. Since
he is my guest I ve to bring him hwhem
you aregood enough to be civil to him; t, re-
member, I do not imdorse him.”

This was the understandin which existed
about Harley St. Cyr. It be seriously vexed
Sir Caryl the previous evenin , to have thisvis-
itorsoa tive to his own le rosebud of a
sweetheart. Once St. Cyr had taken Cicely out
on the porch, where they had promenaded for
some time, talking earnestl together.

On this wretched more it annoyed 'Sir
Caryl to hear this man, of~ell others declare his
intention of remaining at home. 9 desired to
ride over to the Rookery and have an interview,
do with Cicely. Hesaid to himself that he
woul be calm, would be reasonable be just, be
generous, but that, Cicel must give him a satis-

actoryhgxplanatlon of t e scene he had witness-
edon beachpr hewouldflinghis’ truth in
her face and 31ml: her forever. Notlthat be en:-
pectedsheco dolearherself. Hehadth t
of many, improbable reasons for that en-
but none that or cook! account for
it. atshewaslikealltherestofthem,aflirt
and a fortune-hunter, he made up his mind.

When the fellows, with baskets of luncheon
and win were of! for the yacht, Sir Caryl said
rather co dly to St. Cyr that, since he chose not
to join the expedition, he must make way with
the day)? best he could—to excuse ‘ him, as he
should compelledtoretire to his room. St.
good—naturedly responded that he should
notfind the day dull, begging his host to put
him to some service. ,

“Latins theyourhead for one!!! can do
0 or for the doctor, or do something,
my ear ow.” J
d “Thank you. Harley; there is nothing to be

one.
. .80 St. Cyr strolled into the smokingmoomand
his hast went to his chamber. He could not
his own rebut up in that solitude.

Stealing out to the stawa u to avoid is.

i?” “summed "3' WW5
g I ' . e ' ’ o

m chrmingltyzglnnd inviting as he
rode, u the avenue 0 and dismounted.
Timer. . 7. handball unhappy there! It

\

the house and went’to his ‘

 

and d all adream. A servants reached
and took his horse; he step across breezy
piazza, entered the wide whose doors stood

invitingly open, and went on to the door of the
drawing-room, where be tapped, but received "no
answer. Hearing voices within, . he entered

without further common . ‘ r ' ’ ‘
The married sister, Graham, sat by one
of the windo looking very prewar blue
with a 

mornin -dress, er white fingers
mass of right-colored silks.

“Ah Sir Caryl,”’ehe cried, yly,aeheenter-
ed. “ on are com justin time to holdths

skeins for me!” * r 4 -

The new-ocular walked over toward her, but

stepfd in the middle of the room, while a and-
en,

urnin flush rushed over his (gale face;
he hadoaug tsight of Buoys-justice ngCicely
to the )lBElO inthe music-room, which 

out of t e drawing-room. ‘ ‘ '

“ Cicely,” called her sister, “here scream, .
after all i” . ' ' ,

Cicely turned, and her serious face lighted up
with such a look of pleasure, as she came nick-
ly forward, smilin and blushin , to ' her
lover, that the dar from of cion smoothéd
itself out a little. But, not entirely. She new
there w something wrong,and her mobile coun-
tenan chen again as she looked up at him
apprehensive  ' “ ‘

_ ‘ You are nihshe said tenderly, “St Cyr
told me you were! Yet, when I saw 
inilbegantohopeitwasnothingfl  

‘ It‘isnot ——nothin at all !-—a slight hbfi- ‘

ache. I did at know- a did not inform me—
how he was aboutto amuse bimelt. I who
Ion tJx£nuurprlsedthathe refusedfllepleesureet

He spoke with such eeid’semes‘m ‘thatiu 
ing sensation arose in Cicely’sthroatisthe' hook-
ed at him in rise. He rammedth regain
by a fierce stare ate the blushing face.  a
sweet face it was! What a , use:
With what assumption of innocence she bore his
scrutiny, kc her eyes fixed on him with a

wistful, won erm look! .

“Iamcertain ouammoreillthan
confesa”ehe said, gently. ' '

Therewasawichdemileonst. 
l"human Mam wept.

can so ,
room, 1, that I hethomhtmto'puy my re-

ladies.”  ‘
“Solace.” ' * .
“Couldlhavedonean ingbetteri‘"  ' ,
“Oh,certainl not! t. Cyr knows how to

gefith? misfit on of: dull dayiis, , ,_ 
ar e 1' ug m 0m *1 "
to holdithe  for y Gram 

a sun’s moan am: a worm ocean. "
“WILL you come out on the porch‘ m-
Fu el—theairinthe houseisoizrressive. 
‘ieely, wondering more an more at her
fiance’s stern looks, walked outwith him onto

the veranda where they paced up and down for
some min‘utsein silence, she peering A
upathim'nowmdtheaasldng lie I-

h could make Sir sogloomy.
wAzlasthe paused m from the ”
figw‘siaaskge poth wmfldukethmlndfwbd

I' X‘ s > ‘ ‘

"‘Cicel Ihave sonnet gofhnportaace' to
eeyto' {iwmnitptimy’ theothernigirt,
thatI oved you, andasked er yourheartin
remrmyouassuredmethatlwahyourfiipt

and onl choice.” ‘
“ e, ‘ l,Ireallydonotliketoflat-
teryousomuch, tI told outhe truth then,"

she answared him, playfu , the'sweet color
creepin , uptoherwhite to eedeventoedmit :
umuc asthat. "

“Cicely! Donot txiflewith me! For God’s
sake, beseriousand candid, ifitisln utebe.
But it is not. You are like the . Cicely
Fayel I acguse you, to your ownsweet eyes, of

it ery.
‘ “Treach l” she  his hand-which she
hadtimidleyrytaken a drew away from 

with wide flamingo es. ~ ‘

“I was mith 3 this mornin at eighte-
clock; I was sitting in our ‘30 c.’s*Bower'
dreaming happy dreams of you, and I Saw the
interview wigs};  plgtcienon’the ‘beaehl—saw
allwthe mee an pa g. y

The indignant eyes drooped before his 
ones: a burning b ., wrapped bosom cheeks
and browas in a roey'fiaine, then  away,
leaving her deadly; white. j i g ,

“You'are fleet. Misfire!"  v ,

“I have no explanation give, Sir 
Except this?! shesddsd. 1993193. slum-slam in

 

 

 

 

 

 

I

in eyes, 4‘ that there was nothing wrong-in it-
self or false to  in that interview. I cannot
tell you abou it. The secret of another is
mugged up in it. Net Itvwill swear to you,

_ dear and, that there was no treachery to you
in that meeting. ”. .

,f‘ I will give ydu thebeneflt oi-a doubt for the
present. Answer, methisiwas that perwn I
saw you with a brother, accusin, or any rela-
tive of. your tarnin which would give him a
rl‘ht to your caresses?"

930 relatiye at all," was the slow,«unwilling-
Answer.

. .'.' And, you refuse to account to me for the in.

“my between u!” _
w ' “Caryl, come you trust me! Have you no
faith in me. as a Womanl—no belief in my
 attestation i”. . u
“' aith and trust my be strong but the evi-
dence ofgmy senses is stronger. lsaw you in
the arms of another. man; you will not explain
' to me how such a thing my be ssible and
{rat- ou be innocent of evil, and rue to me.
 er such circumstances you cannot become
% wife." I r . ,
Nothing on earth would tempt me to marry
'a man who could not believe me innocent, on
any as against :all appearances. Let me be
the one say our on garment is broken, sir
,Gu'yl. Let me add, at I did not demand
from a sworn certificate that you had never
made ya to, never kissed any other womanl I
.‘ tookxyou as you were. . But, that is pastl”-—her ’
, released ligequivered, she burst into passionate
tears: but fireinher proud eyes soondrisd

' Sir  was walking about and about like a

  to say:

“I do not 1 to injure you in any way, Miss
Fiye. Iishall not reveal the cause of our quaxs‘“
rel. I Wait to you to make your own expla-

nations to your family. I have the cutest re-
for: your father and mother; should be
. .toy‘onnd their feelings. I pray that you
may be more ' in - future, and so save

. ‘ trouble." I
' “, on insult me, sir; and I have no redress.”
“You‘can goto your rather if you wishts

resent what I say."

Ciceluy Was silent. There werexreasons why
 d not complain of Sir Caryl to her fa-
, thew—the same reasons which

forbade her ex-
, ,_ 5 her conduct to. her lover. Her bosom
red with indignation; the riot she would
‘ 'o erwise have sulfered was or the moment
swallowed up in resentment. Her companion
to . barbell-scornqu . r
. 4  I,  obey our ins ctiens " he said,
meringly~“ our cuts with our dis-
. monument. or pi quie for the present ”_
 n ' f , y  Warring emotions contend-
,  within her. 'She felt how much color such a
' decision would lend to his suspicionséthat she
(compromised herself in dolng it—yet she put
4‘5?” d we ind maid“: ‘léu : it x '
 w“ preer on nos o are
law days, Six: 1?" , ' 5
‘ I silebowed ando cred her his arm. She took
. mend they retumed to the drawing-room toge-
ther, he politely found her a seat, and
 retired from her, and fell to chatting with
'  snlilhdlt wguldl seem  the ve
contain the {or ice y gave 1; ren
'  lap his part. He avowed his bondage
,mucgi _ use, and entered into a sprightly dis.
consist of the fashions with the lady.
_  Cicelysat for a few moments where he
had  her, feeling,” it shelled been dead
and led and Wes strug ling back to ahor»

 

titlesenss of life in her co 21. With some tact '

be had placed her where she was free from her
.sisWr’s e e- but Sh Cyr, who was turning .over
1 music a; the piano, knew there had been “a
lover’s Quart-cl," 'smilingély flattering himself
thsit he was the cause of i
Still and white as a statue Cicely sat there;
but when she heard the man who had been her
lover careless} [chatting a! if nothing had oc-
curred, her in omitable ride came to her res-
! one; two. great roses of r chest carmine bloomed
wt in her when cheeks, and walking overfto the
lane shesat down before it, .andloolring u at
t. Cyr with brilliant eyes which seem to

smile, she .asked'him what she should this for '

him and burst into a little love-song. The
thrill; of pain which gnythrough the warbling
not,“ and made her singing the more delicious;
sothatflz. C rcalled for another and another
song, while ir Caryl, now mute with Jealous
anger V led more and moreihopelessly tbs
shmdser - y Graham’s embroidery.

“Lady invited the two gentlemen to

Inshong D easier. '

 

 

 

'sight struck

- Castle were

oi one of the windows 0
. hurried to the path which led down to the shore.

Zone of its finest

. in. silver name in the midst of that

 

Graham
stay Whoeheong‘theydecflmm soonwent
" . Bel leavingi‘u‘bel ,tookoccaaionto
 says man of pater '

 

which she slipped into St. Cyr’s handasshi took
it, in sayin goodvmorning. ‘ . ~
Sir Cary saw the whole maneuver" but, as he,
said to himself, it could not give to a worse
Opinion of her than he had before, though the
tohisheartlikethe blowof adag-
ger.

The two walked back to Cliil' Castle, leaving
Sir Caryl’s horse to be sent for, since St. Cyr
had come over across the downs on foot.

is host was not very talkative on the way
home a fact which only amused the gentleman,
who is]: certain that jealous of his superior at~
Emotions had ut Sir Cary in ill-humor. He
resolved to stil further arouse this jealousy; so,
ing on a little in advance, he contrived to
rep the scrap of paper he had received from
Miss Faye.

The miserable man who followed Saw the pa-
ge: in the path and inked it up. Would- it be

‘ honorable to ran it! He hesitated only an
instant. He must know what that pure-faced
girl who had so enchanted him, had to say se-
cretly tothis fast on: gentleman whose ac-

uaintanoe she be me 9 but a few days agol
is stealth glance ran over the paper and then
he thrust e scrap into his vest-pocket. The
words ran: '

“ Will Harley 8t. Cyrbe oaths sands at nine this:
evening!" I , _ .

1 “ Two flirtatious on hand in one day! Prat

well, for a riot seventeen! I will never thi ,
of "her a n,”sneered the lover who had died
carded her, and he hastened on to join his visitor,
to whom he now made himself most agreeable.

When the guests at Cliff Castle returned from
their day on the" see, they found a sumptuous
dinner awaiting their keen appetites, and a?
courtly host who had entirely recovered from
his morning’s headache. ' ‘ ~

“ Are we to make our party-call at Captain
Faye’s this evening?” asked one.

‘ St. Cyr and .I have been over once today.
I believe some of the ladies there have an en-
ggement for this evening,” answered Sir Caryl, ,

then St. 0 know for certain that the acre
of per had read, and looked up at
h and laughed goodonaturedl .

The engagement of Sir Caryl érossley to Miss,
Cicely Faye was not yet announced outside of the
captain’s family phones of the visitors at Cliff
Positive about i3] although they
suspected the such would be 0 result of Sir
C l’s devotion to Miss Faye. .

T erefore St. Cyr was not absolutely certain

t he was playing an ill-part toward his best,
in trolling away from the rest of the company,
an going down on the beach that evening; but
he was sure enou h of it to make his act-one of

treachery after .

Sir Corgi, as he expected, missed him from
the vbilliar -room, where they had all e after
dinner. He had resolved not to watc , follow,
or in an manner interfere with the strange
whims 0 Miss Faye. . Yet a rope of sand is not

broken than washis resolution when

more easil
he found t. Cyractuall, gone. A its: (inf for);
urposes. p ng on
the billiard-room, he

laid low his new-form

The beach. when. heir-eacth it, was wearing
aspects.  sea was as still as
it ever can be; a sakron belt ran around the
horizon; the least at love burned and 
ow
left by the sunset. The“ rolongsd tzilight
shad hardly yet. e its appearan

Slag“. i ’11: An buqu
r O WISDDOOCOC. an: i

the airlike a setter da .

Sir Caryl pulled the hat ivrom his revered
forehead as he almost ran along the ssndsbeaten
hard and smooth by the tide. .

He wanted to meet those two together-4'0
pass them with a smile of superb contempt—to
wither that wicked girl under the glance at his
disdaini’ul eye: and he constantly held down the
tiger of rave «that stirred in isnature, that
he might be and contemptuous. .

Oh, Cicely Faye, that girl of the pure brow
and the sweet e was s thing too mean. even
for hiscontemp . hank Heaven, he had found
her out in time] .

Yet, though he walked  on toward
that spot on the sands where he soon Cicely
thatmorning, he was too late to surprise her at
the second rendezvous. The jutting rock was

between him and that place, when some one.

earn, 9 w rapidly toward him from that
other side of c where he longed to be.
The man walked, ran a little walked and
ran ' inadistractedwayw can‘httbe
atten of the ‘ '
As other the

pprcacbed‘ sea
'bsronetssw that this Wu St. Cyr Moss, and

evidently much agitated. The sadron light en

un-

, have!

 

x

 1e  veita- ghastl .look: he was I
swiggssggfiw ‘ whel'i he stopped to
“I’m not dressed warm enough. ,‘I‘he'seaoir
is'cold,” he muttered, not looking his friend in
the e e.‘ “It was so warm in the house, I
thong t I would try the beach. I think I have
on a c '
“Let us run back tothe castle then: and l
will”have something hot prepared for you, Bar I

is .
yl'liey hastened back home together. i
“ Let me go to my room,” pleaded St. Cyr; “ i
don’t feel 1i 9 meetin the fellows.”

“Very well. I w' send up the butler with a
hot unch;.and come up pretty soon, myself, to
see ow you are getting on.”

The servant took nip the punch; but when the
master knocked at h guest‘s door a‘little later,
there was no response, and not knowing what
condition Harley might be in, he entered the
room without ceremony. St. Cyr was not in it.
He looked about; then sat down b the dressing-
table,‘ on which a couple of candfes were burn—

6‘He will return soon, I suppose; I will wait
for him. ”

Then his cc, roving over the table, rested
on a note to 11', which he hastily
Opened to read: ' ‘

“I am called to London ve suddenly. Thought,
ginning, Iemtlght reach ,thsho o‘clolgk train. ’mse
sen ll m 1'00 ere ‘ I.
depanugrgaagmendyill. ‘ “cu” ’
“ Yours, as even, .
" 11mm)!
This was written with a shaking hand, evio
dently, for the reader could hardly make out the
brief scrawl.

~—

CHAPTER IV.
m nnemnmo or A TRAGEDY.

In a certain Cathedral-town some th
back from the sea in the
Castle and the Rookery inclosed in high brick
walls which ran aroun an entire square, and
over the cap of which branched the trees and
tall shrubs within, stood a lar e, old-fashioned
building three stories n hig t. with plant-
tul wm ows. A semic cular device over the
arched doorway bore the legend/in gilt on a
blue ground: “ MISS Wooason s Fmsnmo
School. ron YOUNG Lanins.” If it had been a

risen, instead of a school, the place would
Bard]. y have been made more secure. There,
were Elites alonghe top of the walls about the
groan ; the _ posing front teway was
closed with asohd gate always ocked exce t
at the moment when the portress in the litt e
lodge near by. answered the ring of the bell and
admitted mentor or supplies. There was a
smaller gate, or rather door, in the rear wall to
which on] two trusted servsz had keysbe-
sides Miss oolson’s own self.

But the grounds within the inclosure were
ample and pleasant, with broad walks for exero
cise, and benches under the stately trees, also a
few flower-beds kept in order by the kitchen-
gardener. All the flowers that could have been
crowded into that square would not have made
itso bright as the greases or the three of
pretty youn crea you who fluttered tfisere,
sweet as pin s and roses, restless and gs as
butterflies, impatiently bid their time‘oIim-a
pnsonment, longin to sp thawing! of exs
Kilome- and try t eir more in that wonder- -

bewitching world t lay outside. Ah!
Smog they were “gone  Frenc'h'vm and
ve— nger exerc wi » eportmen that
Grand .Ga‘lo do Concert, and paintih’g flowers, ,
trom~hfe, w t has times theyws‘re going to

L1! beyond» that tedious period, was s beaur
tiful, toxlcatin whirl mtggymmot dressing,
of dancing, of be in; ad a receiving o
feral Even the plain onesand the Var nice!
ones h their dreams; while the ric beau-
tiful, w 0 were flattered even in school, allowed
gamwto run riot in the golden fleldsot
.0
Of all the young ladies in the school perhaps
Cicel Faye was the most general favorite.
Her other was not so wealthy as some, yet he
was far from ; her mother belonged to a
distinguished family; there were lords and la-
dies on both sides; and Cicely was sweet, lovely,
ero nuous—a warm-hearted, beauti-
l,

us, in
h
finding.“

miles
same county wi h Clilf

‘when: even the envious could not
Miss Woolson was proud of her;
her schoolmates adored her. 11 was she
idolised b Dolores Lee the" great. rose of
the schoo daughter of msigma“.Vivestlndiulu
merchant whose house—of. esswas one of the
heaviest in all London

.Dolores was a high'tsmppred, napalm, for»

 

715,,

.35,  13 - 7‘ .r’

THE LOCKED HEART.

.5}

 

~.....t_i...

 

810mm- mature . ringthe mum.wd the
dignified head of go establishment worlds a;
trouble; but to Cicely she was alwa humbly
devoted, taking her advice evon, w it was
bitter as gall to her haughty disobedience. ' The
“'0 girls roamed ther. They walked to-
gether during those a ternoon des when the
{Dung ladies marched, two an two, for half an
our, u and down the dully table street
Of the fin old Cathedral-town on which the Fin—
ishing School was located. Miss Woolson liked
to have this pair head. the charming procession,
since their style and beauty were supposed to
1'6de to her credit. .
And, indeed, it would have been  to had
two handsomer girls in the whole United King-
dom. Dolores had great black brilliant ey a
rich olive complexion, a splendid bloom an a
metal carriage; her friend was fair as a jas-
mine-flower, with graft hazel eyes and sunny

mwn h if. .
a poor subteacher who led and guid~

l

Jim? “I. h 1 it if this pasticu
e air com e on ‘ ' -
lar autumn~th£algs3t be ore thht May on which
Cicely left school—a certain. fine-lookmg, well-
dressed gentleman made it his business to stand
on a corner of the street while the students

marched by, boldly looking his admiration of l

the two who walked com sadly behindherl
No! she certainly coul not! flat Withersisgfi
Klanoe of scorn, her scowl of indignation, pa '
unheeded. He was indifferent to her displea-
sure. Day after day he carried on this one
81de flirtation with her charge. Sometimes
he would contrive to meet and. pass the
dimpling recession, twice or thrice in a single
Promenade: . .
As the lady remarked, in commenting on his
conduct to her u ils, such a man must have
little to do—mus an idler, an aimless, Silly
. to thus trifle away his time!
. 0 was he! Miss W oolson, to whom his be-
nor was reported, finall ascertained that he
“7&3 I Londoner, stopping the vicinity for a
‘3" weeks of the autumn, that hisname was St.
(437, that his profession was the pursuit of plea-
§ur2 that he was d:n man of fashion and leisure-—
in as art, a v emus, rson ~
~ Soit oamflbout‘that, daily afternoon
walk was ed~being (the only way to
shake off this importlnent fellow—that the
spirits of the fair upils suffered in consequence,
except those of e two belles, who gained in
loom and had brighter eyes than ever!
‘fHe has done no harm with his beau your,
after all." thou ht Miss Woolson, observing the

T

high sgfltaof isses Faye and Leon. “1 won,-
ggézvr'ch one ofthe two it was he tried to at-

Alas! comediesand trefedies have been pie -
Cd in board schools be ore and since, nor
"silent h any the wiser until the am
Mt camel ,

The weeks flitted on bringing the Christmas
Vacation. Cioei wrote home, obtaining per~
mimion toaccep her friend’s invitation to spend

holida with her in her father's London
home. Do ores was wild with delight at
able to take Cicely with her. either cl
“3 s “e ted anyth ‘ more than stolen
' a the y worl as they were still
“hQOI'girls-stole‘n lances, such as theyeould
811111 from visits tot anglers and drives in the
Wk: end there were ops and people and
“moment enough in the great city or two un-
IO histicat'ed ounggirls. "
Gromoft etwotherewasha ess,there
Wa-lheaven in London-for St. Cyr was there!
HG. had told her, by means of surreptitious
“Of-u conveyed to her by a traitorous servant,
heavily bribed, where bewouid meet them when
he! came to tawn; in what promenades he
wOuld be found—what theaters he would attend
‘ rwhat nights hewould

ve to, 0 what pic-
! gag-galleria, on co more , he would
And so the secret acquaintance was improved;
:0 ‘1 fond, foolish, ignorant innocent l was
9“ 011‘ until, a day or two heme the olidays
expired, one of the two girls went out alone one
“‘0” ~—leeving the other one with the
or u went out from friends
nand security without one dismal foreboding—
;‘id to the next sweet-comer, flushed as she
m, “1;, for the person awaiting her there, allow.-
driv m to place her in the ready carriage, was
3“ t0 an obscure church in a distant Kart of
an up to

. as led into its chill loom

:1: "it!" Where a’ few hastflgefimmbled words
mtg“ they of a youngniauin a gown, the pres-
” 0! a» , on, her linger, of a
will"! tbookby" erpOor \ b-
lag “‘10 herfroina‘ga ‘andthoughe
l fiffilintotmwifoof Earle é.er I
m sooner  for that day.
W took our the long way.

I
J

L“; »4 y

‘ table without one of them
‘ had been out'of the house.

while the man she adored, for whom she would
have done an hing, want of! in a different
direction~fbrv he marriage was to be kept a pro—
found secret for the resent. ‘ '

Pale, fri htened, c illed now that he was no
longer by ereide to thrill her with tender rm
mises, the poor foolish young wife went bac to
her friends and took her seat at the luncheon-

suspecting that she

The next day but one the friends returned to
school. They were followed not long after; but
St. Cyr no longer showed himself on the street
when the lovely recession marched out for its

’ day’s exercise. e was discretion itself. He
was in the town on businem for himself. He
took no interest in the ladies; he was a confirmed
bachelor.

But, the poor old woman who kept the gate
which shut out the Finishin School from the
world, was filling a crack tea t with the
rich bribes which passed into her ands from a
certain visitor who was admitted to her lodge
frequently, and there stolen interviews with
go one pupil in wh he was most interest-

“Poor younlg hings!” said this good old wo-
man to horse . “Since they’re married safe
 and sound, ’twould be a pity to kee ’em apex-g.

’Tain’t my fault they t marri cland ' -
ately; ’twas done afore were told! I’m minded
to let ’em see each other all I can. If it gits
found out on mer why, I‘m tired of the lace,
anyways, an’ the ’ve promised to rovi e for
me as long-‘as I ive. Myimyl w tasweet

retty p 'n she gave me, las’ week! 
East till ’m buried in it."

So the hidden undercurrent of affairs ran on,
until, early in March the whole school was sur-
prised, and Cicely shocked and,  by
news which came to Dolores to the effect hat
her father had failed, through theme of
the un recedented hard times and the failure of
other 8 indebted to blur—had “burst all 

ieces,” as the papers said, and wanted his
Slaughter to come home immediately, to go with
him to the West Indies, whither he was ob
tohaston to try to save something out of he
wreck of his business there. ~

Poor, proud passionate Dolores was torn, al-
most in con “one, from the neck of her sob-
blig   merits  new
0 y a y spen ng; an ‘ce
Fa e was left alone, feeling as if a thunderbo t

fallen at her ve feet. ~
pile dec

All the to each other, con ~
dentiall hat Cicely did not appear likethe
same ggl after Dolores Leon wen away. For
their parts, they were not so sorry to 'with
that high-tempered young lady; but C 1y took
it strangelyto heart. Cicely had her room allto
herself after that, and made a confidant of no
one. -

_ ’ Even after she went home to the Books --
that charming old place which now belon to
her father, and whichthe whole famil tho ht
the dearest old house that ever was—sicer d
not look well or act natural.

Graduallty however, this melancholy, which
hung as so tly about her sparkling young beau-
ty, as the morning mist about an opening rose,
were away in the sunl' but of June. There were
fiay guests coming an going all the time at the

ookerywseveral pleasant neighbors—end above
all, Clifl Castle, with its young. and agreeable
owner, who was not ion in showing Cicely.

Faye that he looked it n or with an admirin
interest. How rapi y this admiration h
deepened into a strong love we know; it sur-
grised no one so much as Sir yl, himself—Sir

aryl, the skeptic. the trifler, who for years had
laughed at other men! Sir Caryl, the on-
ate, the jealous, who, now that he h chosen
the “ neon rose of the rosebud garden,"
would ain prevent other e as from even covet-
ing the sweet prize. Sir ryl, the proud, the
fastidious 'wbonhad so soon to come upon proofs
of shameful perfldy.

Vs little sleep came to the eyes of the ban-
onet t e night of the shrug: do of his

est, St. Cyr. He could not have that Harleg

ad received a tale aim—none of the servan
knew of he arriv of any message—and it
would he. been strange for one to have goneto
the beach .where St. Cyr had gone var-1y pri-
vatel . No! something had I urin
that nterview‘to which he had been invited

Cicely Faye. The man had looked distraught
beyond deec tion when the barouet'encoun-
teredhimonf esandsn, ,

Had, Ciceiy‘been fooling St. C as she had
fooled him? Had those velvet lps, these win.
hing eyes been used to draw another heart to
its :11an Was 8t». Cyr in love with Cicelyi-s-he,

 

the scofler at women, the rambler? HadC-ioely
ledhiinon.andthen_iil him! l

l

“Shetcapableof it!" thebaronetsaidto him.
self,,bitterly. “Ought I not to have m
will“? “mom” “I” 13:9 333th ‘
m eave y e es 6 r
purest-seeming girl, with the smile of achil
he wickedest‘! Ay, I did know it! But Cicely,
Cicely Faye, you lured me to doubt'my own
knowledge i—you completely befooled me!
“Well, I have had enough of itl- No'more
dreams of a dear and pure and lovely wife for
me! Cliff Castle shall never echo tothe thrill~
ing music of m wife’s voice. I Will close up
the grand old h 1, and betake myself to roam
ing the world again. And; another thing,
Cicely Faye! You have destroyed in me the re—
t and devotion to your sex which my mol-
t er taught me! he mercy will ‘I have now up-
on an of on. If you'throW'yomeelmm my '
way sha not spare you!” ' .

CHAPTER V.
THE BLOOM or ANOTHER noes. ‘

Tm: Fa all but poor Cicely,wondered a lit-
tle why ir Iliad not nt the 
evening atthe,Rookery. y Graham gn ‘,
there had been a lovers” (fierrel by Cicely’s‘ pale
and troubled looks; but t t it would prove any-
thing seriousshe did not apprehend, until after
Captain ye received a-note from Clifl
which he ‘6. before luncheon of that do. . '

Opening it, he read, with immeasura stirb

prise. ‘

' “Chm Cm ‘ Wednepda , Junem‘
“To 0min: W. F. Fara: > y .  M .
‘ Mr Dun 8m: My rehtions to your daughter
Cicely are broken offhat her desire. For 

you will please go to the . My feelings to

you and our family are of he most friendly char

acter, an I sincerely hope r{ours will remain so to-

ward me. I leave t is pa of England tomorrow.

Harley St. Cyr left’my house last night for London.
‘ With the heat estee

 

mIromal ,‘ ,

“'°"’ “mi? 522?. 

Captain Fay, who, though a 've indul t
parent, had the hi h temper with w ch 0 cars
who have served 11 India usually . , “sent
for his daughter after reading this formal note.

instills came in, pale as death, unable to look 
e . . r .. . I.

“Read that, Miss Cicely‘i” . _ ‘
She took thenote in her trembling 

glanced over it. ‘ . g g
' “ Is that all fair and squareeomy girl? If it‘ll
ve ‘ scann-

not, I am still oung enough gi , the
drel a horsewh pping.” ‘ i ' A , ..
“ Itisall fair, papa. sn- l and i came 4*

to the conclusion that we will / not be he
"igé‘m‘"‘“lié’if’°"‘lwn Fmdmmfigfig
o m r——w we— no su con-
sides-oil?e That is all.” _ a fly .
“All! gy George, miss, I should hayit was
enough! on lose he chance of making one of
the best marriages in England l” _ -. ' ‘
I’oor Cicely burst into tears, Forjessdns 
her own she could not complain to her 
the cruel and rude treatment she had . ' , '.
ed at the hands of her lover.  , " mat-
ters she must hide from everybody, 
verysoulhad been stung bythetamits of the

st. ‘ " .

“I tell you i you have  _a
glorious good cgrnéel” V ‘  I '

Still the weeping girl nabbed on. “

“ You will never have such another. You do
not know what is best for on. And pra
what do we care if Mr. St. has left 
Castle? Why does he mention St. Cyri There
is nothing between you, (lice! , and that penniy
lesa’immoral amester, I i” , ' .

“ Nothing a all,” cried the poor girl, shiver-

in . .

F"Phat is well for you! Understand incl I
would rather see you in your comnthan have
Elm have anything to do with St. Cyr. He is ‘

d-T-bad. He is poor, too. Come now, Cicely.
if this is only a quarrel, a bit of jealousy, or
temper, no matter whose fault it was at firsti
ihé‘adfiyéou not better make it up, before Sir Cary‘

0 .

“Never!” cried Cicely for the em time lohk-
ing her father full in the face. “Never! Be
. has (intended mgrhurgalmy pridifi He is flags!
suspicionas we as easy. » o, papa e
himup. Donotscod me! All your girls are
gone but leet me stay at home with you and
mamma and keep you company. on will

 

by2needsonieone,andl shallnotevercareto

‘ “Pooh,poohl Caretomarry! All ls'care

[ to  It is Very well for you to‘tiilzlt new",

, when you are only seventeen. Wait until 

3 are twenty—five and see what ‘youwirll as l
Camtomarryl Idare say ymiwillcare‘to he
settled in life before your mum and Lam

, gone, on wins would you do then! I‘m m

i a , .

i ii ' my ambition for u

, could say

,. then went to her room and shut herself

fiflreau

‘ of hen heartl

, bgfooled, sineeéoas
. , Iconw’ent all, 1 cos earl
warms: ‘ ' I" e y

” ow..ch
.p. I

' Cicely’s falsity.

has is: aver. , Takin u his
End: ,. . I be p

"6

 

 

 

 

sorry you have quarreled with Sir Cam. He lhouse and m
oung mamandto see you there. 'Whenever ir Carylku in London he

is a, most excellent I);

hid of Clifl Cast would almost h
puss make it u or I be

With, you. ” p,

“ It never can be made up,” thought Cicely.
" now go, take the note to your mamma.

,' You have succeededingetting us all in a fine

W0 . - -

“ orgive me papa,” was all poor Cicely
while, two great tears rolled down
her’velvet cheeks. , '

She took the note to her mother.

. “ Youam not so anxious to be rid of me as to
scold me, dear momma,” she said with quiver-

ing lips. ‘
i ‘ Tell me all about it, child,” was Mrs. Faye’s
answer.

But Cich could not tell the reasons of this
trouble. 8 6 could only sob that Sir C6131 was
not so very much to blame—that she had eeply
ofiended him~that no, one was to blame.

Mrs. Faye, like the captain, believing the
would best settle itself if left alone,
said some soothing words to her, daughter, wkho
,_ up or
the remainder of the day. . -

t the uaml was serious soon became evi—

dent tothe ayes, for Sir lCrossle got rid ,
ofhisguests in some wangyleft Cliilllxjastle in

a day or two, without coming over to say. ood-
by to his friends at the Rookery. '
Pride- is a passion sometimes evenretgolréger
than love.- If, after the first day, Cicely er;
ed, she gave few signs of it. The bones was full

,,

' ofcompany, whom she delighted by her wit

and gadyety. Never had the ovel eyes such a
deal In hie—never the tweet ips such mu-

If Sir i could have seen her, with a bril-
liant color on her cheeks and a dazan light in
her dark eyes, he could not have thong t worse
oneness and deceit than he did; for
it charmed that the first etc that he made in his
 after leaving , '6! Castle, no]?1 ii;

that A  Cathedral-town where
  School t and there from
- themouth of a friend with whom he tar: for

ada , what ship should he bear but the story
of  ,_ .y S... Cyr's haunting the place to flirt
with the girls of'the schoo , and how scandal

hadit that hehad succeeded in {fitting Ethan V
. epu s.

 with one of the pbrettiest o

“ 0 one believes at St. Cyr won d have

‘ sized his time in making love to a school-girl
thOut‘ some ulterior object,” ran on e
friend.» 3‘ It is whispered that he was after the
immense fortune of Leon whose daughter
Dolores Was at the school. if so, he was nicely
I dare sayggu remember

is rin
Dolores out of school.” pp ' g
{‘1  hot Miss Leon he was after,” thought

oodily. “Was ever such guile-

. , 1 m
  file. face of such heavenly innocence?
Hmwe I remember that day I took St. Cyr
:0 Rookery. IIhad dong}: about taking hm;
hecau as . ew, morals, were no
 "But I need not have been so
.Why, when Iintroduced him to her

Vshg received him as an utter stranger! Such

were of dissimulation betray long racticel
{’eFaye, since you, whom deemed
a , and , st of all young creatures, are such

a traitor, such a hypocritee—for a girl who will
parents and lover, must be an

, d , veteachers.
agitin deco , on—I swear thatI never again

w‘ have felt in one of you l—never have pity
on one I may see goin lindly astray -—never
have mercy on one w o throws herselfinm

way! I long-ed to be agood mane—to so e
"down to a wet, happy home-life' but you have
changed 21%., with our fair. false face, Miss
Cicely Faye I If a o 'ld-seraph should fly down

' .' into my arms Out of the azure skies I would not

pin any faith to her. ‘I have nothing before me
now,‘ but to get such poor. pleasure as I may out

‘ of life.”

mind while his fr end was still chattering away

sava thorughts ran through his

to himahout St.  The .very depth of this
new love which h flooded his soul now turned

to bitter waters, brackish as the still pools of
the Dead See.

It Seemed to him providential that he had
thus stumbled u n conflrmato proof of
0 left his frien . house the
following day and went straight to London,
wherethe season of fashionable dissipation was
uarters ata ,West
, lad“ d ere long, for an

he di
 residenton one of the fine streets

i

no
I , of Kenna eon Gardem,hisisied “mwhen {Warehouse
‘W havinkagdoupleofreomslahis $110}! Sou-Wt” »

himself" entirely at home

ave satisvi was much sought .after' for what bachelor,
Make it up, ; young, good-looking, rid , with a title, can
seriously angry . escape the

rsevering attentions of the fashion-
; able mob? 6 young married ladies desire him,
I to give éclat to their entertainments; the ma-
, trons to introduce their accomplished daughters,
: all armed for the siege. , '
l His uncle, Sir John Crossley, had a da ter,
Lucy, his only child. Her mother had d ed in
her inf and the baronet had never again
married. 0 say that this daughter was the
idol, the star, the jewel, the perfect blossom of
Sir John’s heart would scarcely put the truth
too strongly. She had been presented to Her
Maiesty, and was now in the full tide of her
fl%'%°ndoy “ism h hen so Caryl

e curious enou w ao-
repted his uhcl'gs invitgt on to make his house
his home for the few weeks before Sir John set
of! for a month on the Continent he had forgot-
ten all about his cousin Lucy. Pie had scarcely
seen the girl since she was a little child; for the
simple reason that Lucy hail been educated 1116

when Sir Caryl was in town. He hadseen her last
when she was fourteen; met her twice or thriCe
at her. father’s dinner-tablH shy, silent, thin,
 to whom his natural 00 made
him y attentive, but who made no pres-
sion at all u n him. ,

‘ The first y of histh to his uncle's he ar-
rived just in time to dress for dinner. Sir John
had not _ come in. His toilet completed, Sir
Caryl sauntered down to the drawing-room,

set, was  than most on drawing-
rooms. windows at the rear of the long
v apartment opened upon a balcongacrowded wi
flowers at their fullest bloom. hawalked in
that direction, attracted ,by-‘the glow and bril-
liancy of color, a sweet incense of roses, car-
nations, oran blossoms and jasmine was waft-
ed toWard him making him for the moment
sick at heart, for they recalled to him with
me “inn is messed? 
w c e ce a s
when Ill-g “ told his love.’ i y y
He paused in the center of the room, drawing
his breath with a gasp and pressinghis heart
with his hand. . .
‘_‘ Are you ill, cough Caryl!” asked alow, rich
vorce. .
Some one arose from a sofa and came toward
him, holdin out her hand, with a look of shy
pleasure on or beautiful face.

Was this his cousin Lucyi-y-this tall elegant
'rl, with the thick d hair, the dark—b ue ey
he face delicate a bloom ,the figure slim an

she ly! Hewassurp' ., r.
.“ am afraid I should not have recognised
you Lucy, had I met you anywhere but here.”

“l should have known you anywhere,” she
said, smiling. “ You made a lasting impression
cousm Caryl by your devotion to me when
was a bash ul school-girl. You do not answer

me, if you are ill,” and she looked up at him
with sweet solicitude in the truthful, lovely blue

eyes. . r 1 a

“ Ill? not at all. I think I had a stitch in my
side. If so, I have forgotten it already,” be an-
swered, recovering his color. '
Cynical as was Caryl’s mood—~bitter as was
his distrust of women—he could not deny to
himself that Lucy was a lovely creature, with
an air of irresistible frankness and ess.
She allowed him to see that she was pleased with
him and had remembered him Well.

Indeed, she assured him, with a bright smile,
that he had remain in her memory only to be
embellished wWith al the virtues and graces
which made up her ideal of what a man should

be. - . ,

“In my mind’s eye on have taken the shape
of an Admirahle Cric n,”she confessedto him
la hinglyr “ Whenever. I heard of a brave
dog, or read of a manly action, or dreamed of
a noble ideal, Isaid to myself: ‘My cousin Caryl
is like thatl’w-and all because you won my gran
titude by being good to me when I was shy and

awkward." . - y '

“You were never so mistakfin. then, abouta
person in your life. r 1am. mean, / revengef
Erlspicious, jealous, selfishw—a woman-hater
e verything else that is unlovely.”

.Hisllfn'ow darkened as he drew the picturs of
, umsc . . ~

child you risk
crushed under

 

somebody? carriage-
Y

, .4.

French convent, and had seldom been at home,
I tendrils to cling to

shoe ng.”
which, in the soft golden light of the July sun- '

.early in Sep mber. Why go to Section

slight. Perha

mi ht strike him in the face; as he

Agillwdiil never beliefve egchshgatsenglf-slmder.
re so. on orge o beggar- '
{gym life to. save from-being

 

hd' 'f tbadl urtindoingi' ’
. oua  V V v V .
y y 

“’I’Md"f&gbtten iti and Those degenerated

since those’days. Cousin Lucy, beware of me!

‘Do not think well of me. Do not even respect

me. Lam ugly, hard-hearted, savage.” V
rall answer-she reachedoutoneoi’hersmall

hands, soft as satin and white as the leaf of a

Emilie-flower, and just touched his with it.

e was her cousin, much older than she—Lac
was sixteen—and she looked up to him with a -
fectionate esteem. *

What she had said about makin him her
beau'ideal was true. Since he won her
fond, faithful'allegiance bg his respectful atten-
tions when no one else no ced her, she had be-
lieved him one of the most wonderful of men.
Her ardent imagination had invested him with
every charming quality. Now that she ‘came to
see him again when she herself commanded the
flattery and devotion of dozens of other men,
her previous admiration cast a glamour over
him, so that she could see no fault in him. He
Was handsome gallant, faultless. She had all
the confidence in him that she had in her father.
Was he not her wusinl—and the poor child had
giver been blessed with mother, sister or bro—

er. “

nature which put forth its
1 about it, it was not stran
that Lucy at once turned to her cousin-«that s e

or a warm, lovi

was proud of him—fond of him.
“Iamso glad ouare oing to stay with us
until we go to rmany I wish you would

make ‘ our plans to accompan us there.” ,
“I ave no plane at presen . In S mber,
early I think I shall go to Scotlau for the

,“Yes, but we start for the Spas, the first.
week in Au’ WewillreturntoE afnd
or
shooting when there is lenty'on page’s estates!
Page. is goin upto indermero t is autumn;
an be woul be ladtohaveycuwith him. He
has already ask a dozen friends." I

“ Thank you: you and uzfcle are sumciently.
hospitable. There is time enough
[118.38. It really  little to

to e

me where I

“one face settled down into the 
look which it had latel . taken on. Lucy; using

him on the sofa regar ed him a little anxious-
ly. She, wanted him to be as he as he do.
servedeayet he did not look chee . A soft pity
dawn in her azure eyes; _ _ ,
“ ram sure you final: well, cousin Corn”
“‘ h,‘yes, 1am. ereisnothingthematter
with me except hatefulness. ”‘ ' ’ '-

"‘ You cannotmake me believe that.”

The low rays of the setting summer sun struck
over the mascot red, ink white flowers 9n the ‘
balcony and‘illumina flucy’s hair so that it
glittered like threads of spun gold. Caryl look.
ed at her critically and as coolly as if he were
examining one of the blossoms at the window.
He admired the fine texture of her fair skin, her
low, smooth forehead, the Ian h of her eye-
lashes, the soft bloom which faintly colored
her oval cheeks, the short uppernflp, deliciously
curved; he admired her slim, ' figure, 
the ease with which. she wore a very elegant
dress of white-silk tissue, set of! by rose-colored
sprays of delicate blossoms and l jewels.

She was a gentle-looking girl, ovely as moon-
she was more strictly beautiful
than Cicely ye; but there would always be
times and occasxous when Cicely would wear a
more splendid charm; for there was a fire in
Cicely’s eyes and a firmness of the delicate fea-
tures telling of that 'onate nature which
wakes its owner togriods‘of magnificent ex-
piression. Mentally, ryl was  them.

e thought of Cicely every moment of his wak-
ing hours—thought of her with scdrn, with an.
'ge‘r, With contempt, get, almith love-for it
was because he coul not e loving her at

‘ will, that he was so angry with her.

He dreaded the fmslbility of meeting St.
Cyr in the streets 0 London; he was afraid he
said to him-
se , with a sullen laugh, “ he did not care to dis~
figure Cicely’s lover, nor to let it appear that he
cared enough for him to chastise m.” Now,

\ sitting by his cousin, he said to her, suddenly:

"‘ Do you know Harley bt. Cyr_?'
‘ “I have seen him, but‘I do not like him.

 I
think I heard a lady‘sa , yesterday, that he had

gone' to the Continent. .
“ He is afraid of me,” thought Sir I. “ He

has seen my arrival announced, and V him-

self out of my way.” _ -. ‘
He was mistaken there; St. ’ was taking

himself out of somebody’s way, is certain--

but not the  , _

i 9‘ Is he a friend of yoursi”, asked Lucy.

'“I ggethewasmyguesthutadiort

time ,_ tom: cotton m 

‘ n
“m city-

«7 theca ‘tal f
fin. all)! 0 Po

>133- Wfll be 

. THRLOCKED. HEART. * j . ' 7

 

mm ,He isvery anal-incl l :but-th Iv ‘
‘me, is thereascnhe so murth e spite
” ‘ V ‘ canted her to

»-“’Yo’ucannot make me an cousin Ca 1.
I know I do not like  and thayis
030 h. Whatdoesm. rdothatisbad?"

“ ewinsa atdealo moneyrrom o
enswweggeryhhalfsmilingatthg’girls

erecertainlywasagreatcharmabcutthis

confidin yo cousm. ,

“ igs alrtgfiy in love with me,” thought the
man who watched her; “she isgo robe more
In. I sfie shehas made up her mifnd it. Very

erer myo rtuni or revenge on
hersex. I shall bro: eno wad of love to her'
but. if she choosesto wastetheflrsttreshnessot
herwarm heart on me, wh ,Ishall allowher
to do as she pleases; She not love me seri-
ously enough to hurt her. Women are irisieclatpable
0! areal ’on. Let her amuse he , t -
ins her d. on me. I shall enjoytheli a
drama, with so pretty an actress. ,-
"I Will tell )1 First Love is frau
 .t 23”“
, \1
. sanctified pe " ry m W

And he smiled bitterly at the rospcct of

Making his cousin’s heart! p

 

CHAPTER VI.
A scnooa-omL’s manor.
memn Laos took his startled and
his daughter away with him- on the ocean; is
Wait to orto Rico, whither he was bound, was

not, rha so much for the of ttin'
Who he out of his as Ft
was to escape for a 0d rom the embarrass-

ment, the doc mo fication and the den rous
“diamante his failure—a failure whic had
'0“ fromItno wan; aghapg‘uélfnce or honor
part. ma e sea vo a
“Mad him from insagity or 's. y go
It was a sore trial to young daughter.
she was so (185311,” lRule, so quiet with
such a strange look of woe dden in the depths,
“those” WW3 mm lain;Ii h ive
on? , r - oww c ‘ felt
so scaly—the loss of that magnificent fortune
which had made him more sought after and
, than man a man with a title to his
name. Leon had t e true blood of a Spanish
gentleman; he was fiery but ceremonious, roud
as Lucifer, punctihous, with high ideas 0 per-
anor.
His on! son, whowas tohave been heir to a
Fincely rtune, had died at fourteen. New,
0!“ the first time,‘ his father was mmwhat
reconciled to the lad’s loss. But, he had never
been"? meetionate in his manner with 130-»
W e

Was
I

u aboy; and now, when she was home-
, ' overthepartin “ from all, save him,
that e dear,she co d not fling herself

into hisherarms to sob out the grief which was half-

‘Soznetinies, as she sat languid! on deck
 like a gathered flower sheywould turd
1161' passionate e as upon him with an imploring
“m as invitin him tgdpersuade her 8)
01W , ence- but e ruin merchant was

, H more of‘business than of his daughter;
W? all the weary voyage, she got
“she British steamer which bore them across

seatookthem straight into the rt of St.
oly esfirsttelllioohhlelgt‘ e‘m’ When

on 8.11‘ summer-
land—fcr it unifies: Winn-i weather when they

left land—Dole
Eggs. 1‘88 brig toned up forafew

The scarlet threads showed in the vol t -
of her olive cheeks, her eyes shonza
diamond lusten, she was again the handsome
t Doloresérgbo drew the looks of tran:

to h rare 'cal bea '
W“ 91' Pl My as the magnoha

' Asshe cameo'nd eagertogain' the shore
mailmerossedthefiuxkfrom howlian d
a'P‘lBI'Oached Mr. Leon: ' an
1.80%,“ I the pleasure of addressing Senor

N

,, Y0“ have. May I ask who you are!"
he“ “"1 '11 Marshall son of your artner
we  My father is expecting you and sent;
air beam you to do him the honor to come,
wmfi’lct'y his house, and to make it your home
. “,1? you remain at St. John.”

thousand thanks. Does father
In daughter is with me ”
tba

themorep '
, .who win . , W 86150,. 1,50,, ,0 ,1
"Milan «craggy u.” 0

was too stately—too sorry that she '

.ibfig

eifllancedatthebeautiful stran erashe

low when, Ferdinand :1 pre-
im. The liquid fire of those won-
derful eyes pierced to his heart; and Dolores,
worn-out, homesick, condescended to be-.int.er-
ested in the bright, energetic fine-looking
ounigs fellow, and toile upon ' in return
or h assiduous attentions.

Mr. Marshall, senior was a citizen of the
United States, who had invested his money in
coflee and suéar speculations, in compan with
Mr. Leon. a had nothing to do With n’s
London fail nor did it affect him more
deeply than the oss of a hundred thousand dol-
lars. The house in PortoRico remained firm
aftAer meeting its shat? of liabiliilties.th h a)

carnage—dd! vs 0 some m es rou e
soft sunset air brou ht the visitors in si gt of a
place so beautiful t t it would seem aradise
could scarce be fairer. Leaving En land in
March, the unexpected brilliancy of e sum-
mer scene was deeply impressed upon the
senses of the weary young Dolores. She clasped
her hands together in wordless ecstasy her large
eyes burned with passiome delight, she leaned
forward eagerly, as the semis approached,
through along avenue of ma cent flowering
trees, a low large house fair y nested in bloom
of the most dazzling colors. Then and there,
Martin Marshall, watching her as eager! as
she the tropic scene, resolved, it he coul , to
win this ap reciative youn lady to remain al-
ways with hem.‘ Her vivi ,passionate beauty
appealedto his calmer nature with all the pow-
er of opposites. Before he lifted her from the
carriage cute the long rch where his pretty
sisterstood read to we come her, his purpose
was fixed to win olores Leon for his wife.

As for Dolores, thh the ‘flerynlgood of the
South flowing in her Veins, she never be.
fore made the acquaintance of a tropical clime.
She had shivered through life in England; and
now that the warmth and glory and rich color-
ing of a southern island burst upon her so
she felt. as if, tor the first time, she were a
home. For all this she had longed; of all this

,, she had dreamed, -
Yet—a cold chill ierced to her heart, before
the soft hand of th Marshall had fallen on
her own—a chill as of death and d ir.
What had she to do with this beautiful wor d!
Her lot was appointed—her destiny chosen.
With wick _unpardonahle rashness, she had
_ reached out fraugthe toy, happiness asan
infant clamoxs or is forbidden baublaand
now—what? ' , -
She turned white' the cold sweat stood in
heads on her torches ,:
“ You are ill.” exclaimed Edith, compassion-

ately. ‘ ,

“‘ A little—dmy' tron: coming oi! the water.”

geyledharindnd vehera of wine.

fore bedth’ne she elt quite a. home in that
friendly house. She admired Editing? liked
Mr. Marshall: as to his son, she nk and
quivered all over when she recalled the impres-
sion which she saw she had made on him.

Mr. Leon’s eta. in Porto Rico was to be
limited to a moat Three weeks of this had
glidedly swiftly away when Martin, one morn-
ing sought an interview with him as he was
walking 11 and down a shady alloy of the
flower-gzrfinmmokin his cigar.

Mr. n knew wha the young man had to
say, before he began his rather tremulous
speech, and encouraged him with a kind smile:
, “ Senor Leon, I have become deeply attached
to your daughter.”

‘ is that so! You know Dolores is no longer
the heiress she once was. ”

“ Very, true; but that is my great in, as I
look upon it. Were she still t e great eiress I
should not venture to approach her. As it is,
allthatIhaveIlongtopaceatherfeet. _ Iam
far from poor, though not rich, according to
your magnificent standarI'd, perhaps. When I
cameo a a year ago, was pu m
sion of £55300, willed to me by an uncle who
died, unmarried, several years before. .
sum, with what to father will be able togive
m assures me in ependence.” a

‘ I have no fault to find with your prospects,
Mr. Marshall; neither with gun morals or
character in any way. I have kena hkmg to
you. You will meet with no opposition on my
part, if my daughter fancies you. Have you
spoken to her i” , .

“ Ng,‘sefior; I come to you for permission to

050. . .
“ Youhave that mission.” .
yé‘éref thgrusand final Igmmostgrate
co ass to» m ~ 0 are as
htastishthegg’eraylhm $3110
44 

ent from Mischcn." I '
l Faint heart‘neyer won lair lady.

 

'ing toward

 

I belieVe Dolores fancies you. If egg has not
yet thou htot love,"tis becauses iscnl a
child. on havevthe first , ty an it
wfllbefiurowntaultifyou onot egood‘
use of . There she is now, walking in the
rose-alley! .Gotoherandseewhatshewillsay
to you. I rophesy she will not hehard
to win,” an, smiling suavely, Leon walked

awe . .

Mirth: lin cred for a full minute before mov-
olores. It was true, she hagglven
him no encouragement. One da she w dbe l
sparkling and animated, the n dull and pale.

His steel-blue eyes darkened like lakes when

clouds hang over them. . Supposing she did not ‘

care for him? ,
Martin Marshall staked his future happiness .
on the cast of the die. or an earnest, energetic
nature, his was not the love of a trifier. He
w” de‘fimi”? m...“ 1°33 “13" if?” i
once co 0 ' e e t e re
tusal, which he was almost sure he should re—
ceive. Assoonashiswillhadforcedthisdread
into the bwkfignd he walked forward and
overtook Miss .
When she found himby her side Dolores utter-
ed a little cry; the face she turned toward him
was pal:i there were dark circles under her eyes
—heco dseethat she had been crying! '
“ Yod' are homesick ” he said, gently. “I
fiavenso hoped we could make you contented
ere.

“ No, I am not homesick. I would to Heaven
that I could stay on this island forever!” and
she cast a passiomte glance over the blh'oming
land] t in by the sapphire sea.

inst my wish—my ho 1 Miss Leon '
-—Dolores-— have allowed 111 to dream that
I could persuade you to-—-” ‘

“Oh, donot“ speak! I pray you,do not say
“W: a” 1.... N. I a, d...
‘ lso cu m an '
Dolores. ould—z” 37’
- “ Hush, oh, husl‘ill You cannot imagine how
dim urea—by speaking so or you
3.3.11.1 be silent when I ask you!” ’ 1
She trembled from head to foot. There was
a world of woe in the great dark eyes'fixed im-

1 l onhim. Hesawthat thiswasnooo- J
fiuflhymm r

gofonewho expected,atter all,

to "aid. .
3i did notthink tbdistressyoufiear Dolores.
I would not trighte wound you. .But

whenyou me besilegtycu ask‘meto be
unhappy. I ad no great hopes that you would
is rs" : us  m w.
. c on w: m m a

would be toialaygothe coward.  y you do
not love me now, Yet, is there no hope! 
time, when we have each other longer,
willyounott tolearntorovemel Iwillfol—
low on to Eng d-‘-I will wait years.”

“ do love you, now,” she mid, In a low voice. '
without blushing or smiling, fixing her eyes, full
otastrangewoemnhisca crises. ,  .

“ Do love me? Darling olores!” _

“ No! do‘not touch me « You must not: 
love tor each other will never do either at us

any . M

“ y not? You are talking wildly, ,
sweetl' Since on love me, all will be w
Thereis‘notrou ethatyour love willnottuns +

into joy.”

“ Oh, yes! there is one trouble, Martin.”
at}! What is that’l’Lhmg
ere was some so droop

tude, so wistful and despairln
that, on r and joyful as hewasfiie
and sad ened.

“ Let me r
shall die 1”

her look
felt checked

into the house,Martin. Ah! I ‘
case last four words were uttered

Elie? cry' hall ran first, he.
‘ on 3 me ‘ w t
the tmulggs’ yDolores 1’60- , 3
“ You will ave it?”
iglougl’it to have it. I love you, and I ought ,
ow.
“ Well,” she cried, in desperation, “ you shall
have it 1" «
“My dear, good, darli Dolores!”
“ The one thing thatw' keep youand I apart
is this—3‘ - ‘
'“ Yes, darling.” v
“ That Iam already a mental woman!”

Martin stepped back and gazed at her,horror- '

stricken.
“ You—«at sixteen—a married woman?’
“ I have told You so.” ‘
“Does our father know that?”
“.No, no.” . g _
“And on say you love me!” '
Shel _ up at him pitifully: his 
with somethmg very like scorn' yet she looked

so soft,” leadin soutterl r. 
beauttifirl, thithis hgnmalted 
men ‘ '

. in her attic 

W.

l

 

' I have never trifled with you. ”

. “ I am glad you know it, Mr. Marshall. ~ It
hasbeenaterri le thingfor me to carrythis se-
cret about with me.”

 

 

 

. \

 

"where a thicket of flowering shrubs arrested!
. their pr
— still by her side.

” ’ ' the Chi
' ,tosome church and be privately married
~ ing it a secret until I had left school.

, door)?

, atthegate of our school. But I swear to you,

I " lores lifted her heavy, melanc oly eyes

., “ to think of that.

" 'bonmdgwuh hyim. I told him pope's failure

.3,
r.‘

\

, D

THE, LOCKED; «timer.

 

.-

-1.-.”

 

“ Perhaps you can explain," be added.
“ I be on not to speak but you would
not be s . Do me the justice to admit that

I "‘ You have not, but—a married

, woman, Do-
“ Yes;

and the most

“ghoul; thwt i to i cryi ‘ begin
e urs on n pass onate n , -

ali§towalkaway from him. = , g .

(3‘ he t by her side. He looked pale and
shocked imself but he felt afraid, by her looks,
that she might do something desperate. '

They came to a remote part of the garden

hopeless, miserable crea~

s. She turned, and found Martin

‘f Was it a clandestine marri i” he asked.
“Yes. Ma 1 tell on about it?"
He nodded is h , unable to k.

“I was a foolish, romantic schoo -girl. A per-
son—as I afterward learned, one of the most
 gtuantglofelmndcznétgtlit ab man who

an op up is egan e re

on others—cameto the town in which  semi
is situated, and beglan, persistentl , to follow
me and make me fee the. he had so ected'me as
the ob t of hisadmiration. Iwas flattered
beyon measure at the thought of so elegant a
gentleman. having fallen in love with me.

bought it my clear duty to return his devotion.
I fancied to self falling headlon in love. I ex-
changed no ,and letters with m, through the
medium of the old woman who kept the to.
Hemads the most earnest, passionate dec -
tions of passion. He was much older than I-~,
not such a man as I would ham‘chosen from
sympathetic attraction; but he knew just how
to  influence over-me, to flatter m vanity,
ma e me pit him and imagine myse f in love
with him. e asked me to marry him. At the
same time he declared that he knew my father,
who had an unreasonable udice against
him, solely because he was no a very rich man,
and , metokeep the affair secret from

ira—

“Scoundrel!” . _ g

“Yes, scoundrel' but I did not know it then.
I thoughtl was doing a most generous, noble,
unselfish thing in promising’to marr one who
loved mosow’hll, a inst ‘W cm my ether was
sounreasonably. re udiced. Itwasarran edbe«
tween us that, w enI went home to Lon on for
stmas Holidays, we were. to go together
keep-
.We did
no. I went back to m girl-friends and my
lbooks,.a wife—though had not seen 111 bus-
lbandsincelpartedwithhimatthecurch

“ Did you meet him afterward?”

Martin asked this question with a . A
burning blush submerged brow and m of
 beautiful girl before him; thelong black
lashes. fell lower still, as she answered him:

“ I did meet him, a dozen times, in the Lodge

 

 

‘Mr. Marshall, that I never met him 9X09 t in

. .the' cool! the woman there. Well! . was
1. W939”

_ g toreally love him. I put away all
vain  at my haste and romantic “my ; J.
believ that I fondlygsussiomtel adored the
manwhohad rsuad me toa also step—4:0
deceive m fat er—to ruin my future. I invest-

myhus with all the charms of :11 too
fervent imagination. Then—my father fa ed.”
, “ And {go found you had ,been the dupe of a
villain w . had married you, to get a hold on

Senor Leon’s fortune l” *‘
Martin spoke quickly and Dot—
mee

fills ardent gaze; she pressed her hand to her
e - .

art.
“It is killing me b inches,” she murmured,
h! that was a cruel, das-
tardly blow to deal a conflding child such as I
was! When I got the newa that my father was
in troublth I was to go to him at once, and
that I was to be brou ht here, I wrote a letter
tom husband telling im all, and asking him
to inflow me to London at once and declare our
to

ssionatel .

m father, so that I might remain

might be 8 ha thin for us~that t might be
the means ofpiggconcifi pa to ' lack of
m ile, now, w on think of that let-

! sm
‘. Well?” ,
.“Henovercametomeinliondonu Hewrote

l

 

ilth letter. Ibave it here.” 13010ka
 km“?! anddrewfrom‘
l“   ,md: _ v '

 

‘ of the undercurrents.

’ not to betray

‘ the facts which

“Dean Detours: ‘ We have both made a sad min-i
take. I married you for your money. and you have
none. You married

ee
ousl as I s lull, and no one will be the wl’serz'
ay I ope to hear-that you have made a bet

conscience, since nothinfihas come of it.
3 “ ruly, your frie ”

“Was not that a cruel letter for a More-
ceive who was all trust fondness and althl’l

“The am few da 3 I’ thought I could not 3-
siblylive. I had to hear my agony alone. en,
for the world, I did not dare confide in my
father. I knew such a trouble, added to all the
rest, Would overwhelm, him. I must kee my
suffering to myself. I think the very crue ty of
the torture saved me. Contempt scorn for the
man who had fooled me so heartlessly, came to
my rescue. I felt that I could be thankful that
my father’s misfortunes and occurred in time
to open my 6 as to the character of the adveno

turer whom had invested with false glor . I
hate that man who has destroyed my in re!
Sometimes I am afraid I shal be tempted to

seek a murderous revenge.

“ Now, Mr. Marshall, you know. all. I am
glad to tell you this. I believe I should go in-
sane seon if I could not ak to some one. You
see that in life is a to wreck, all through my
own so 00 -girldolly.”

' “ Po haps not quiteawreck,” murmured Mar-

11.
He could say no more then. Thispoor girl

was to be Eitied; but she‘was a wife, and he
must be on is guard and behavior.

1 ‘t‘hI do‘ not know that shall ever tell my
3. er.

He cannot hear it yet. You must kee
what I have told .you a profound secret; It;
punishment is to live alone and loveless all the

, ong years of my life. I shall tell papa. that'I

never wish to marry, and that must end it. The
sooner We leave this lovely island, which has
seemed a paradise to me, the better for me. I
would we were lng to-da .”

And a week rom then, u and his beauti-
ful daughter set sail to return to En lead-i leav-
one human heart as heavyas t

118 tat theireoming. - . ,

CHAPTER VII.
mama» wrm A smut banana.

AGAIN in the early mornin Cicely was walk-
ng on the sands. , eor chil . it was only when
she was alone that she could throw on the mask 4
of gayet which she wore} In her fatherts house .
she was ri ht asa butterfly, 0 one use lark.
On the wet 11, this cloudy u y morning, she ‘
was a different creature from that brilliant '
who had sung, Flayed, danced smiled, in he
dmwin -room 0 the Rookery the previous eve-
nin . ale, distracted, claspmg and unclasping
her ttle white hands she walked up and down,

throwingI lancesat the troubled ocean slinost
wild wit er sorrow.
A summer storm was thering. Great mass

es of clouds of ebou H lackness frin with
vivid gold rolled up toward the zenit‘. Little
flurries of wind swooEed dovvn on the dull sea,
whirling off a little s ower of spray, and away
again. The water was grayr and still. except
w on thus ruffled; yet t e hunder of thelsky,
muttering far aWay. was answered by the, mean
The whifl’s of air that
came now and then were warm—curiously so.
Cicely ought t9 have gone home to be present
at the breakfast-table instead of lingering to
watch the swift march of’the storm; but she
had, for a lon , miserable- week, held her feel.
in? down wh‘ e she played at he piness, until,
th morning, she must give waggiefore them.
She felt a strange sympathy wit the elements;
like the winds and waves she longed to be free to
mingle with the tempest. ’
When Sir Caryl fell in love with Cicel he
said to himself that hers was no ordinary c ar-
acter. Nor was it. A girl who could endure
what Cicely bad endured, in the last two Weeks,
for Ifriendship, must be one whose love was
rich y worth the winnln . She had made a
t sacrifice for a frien , trustin that time
would set her right in the eyes of t 9 man she
loved. Had Caryl been less ovorbearing in his
accusations, after having discovered her in acts
which so certainly seemod compromising, she
would have eXplained enou h to him to set his
suspicions at rest, althoug solemnly glorified
the secrets of her frien . er
lover had approached her with insulting de-
mands for an explanations-her ready pride had
sprung to arms—she had refused to make them.
This mornin Cicely'skprlde was in the dust.
To have had &ryl ‘wal with her there to
have had the o rtuuity , tell him humbly
disgraced her in his

so:

_ ,A.... “a, ’

me for my love, one 1 have .
. none. Fortunately our secret isour own. K '

; ab
‘ Some
1 ter marriage. Your first one need not trouble your

been,v

she would have done almost anything. More
than’once she murmured:  I
"' If he ever really loved me he will come back

agFin, some y. .
hen she would reflect upon the abundant
reason ,he had to be suspicious, and despair
wi‘ihlatombger" to 1 g t t t ' t
g mn gan pay on e we grea
masses of c ouds lying separate in the heavens,
one to the south, one, to the north. The ebon
masses s up like mighty forts, while the
flash of the thunderbolts was like d artille-
ry playing from one fort a ainst t e other. It .
was a magnificent spectac e, so sublime as to
win Cicel for a few moments from the contem-
plation 0 her griefs. She climbed the rude path
to “Bofiln’s Bower,” flun herself down on the
rock, and watched this wi (1 battle of the clouds.
The sea darkened; the wind ran over it, giving
it purlgle and green hues that aduall set in
one s len smoky color. Seen t 0 win struck
her with such force as to almost take her breath;
it took hold of her Ion . brown hair and threw
it back from her face ike a banner. '

The storm came nearer; the thunder rolled
incessantlg, the rain came down in swian
masses. or light muslin dress was drenched;
but it was too late to think of moving beforethe
force of the brief summer tempest was spent, so
she sat there, and found relief from her own
great trouble in watching the .eflects of the tem-
pest and rain. .

’Just before the rain came down Cicely saw
some one walking on the beach where she had
been before she took to the scant refuge of the
Bower. For a few seconds the darkness was so

‘ t, and the rain came down in such blinding

orce, that she lost shift of this soli Eamon»
age. Something in the figure and w ad ex-
go ted her suspicions as to who this person might ’

As soon as the rain held up for oneof thou
sudden pauses which come in storm, she leaned
over the cliff and looked down. x ,

The man was stillwalking there—St. Cyrl

She was certain of it, though he was dressed
,_ in a rough suit and had a cap pulled down over

his eyes, making him appear more like amt
or a poor , farmer, than that loadable y.
Harley 8t. C r it was! ,

What was doing there!

Sir Caryl had taken particular pains to lather
know the. this rson ad made his de um
from the. vicini . She knew that 01' Castle
was cl . W at could he be doing here?

he waves, although the tide was out, washed
over his feet, as he went up and down, in shal~
low ripples, driven high asthe sands by the rush-
iu wind. While she watched him a woman,
ta 1,.slight, her wet garments clogging her move-
ments, stole out from behind that pro action of
the chi! which we have described, a followed
on behind. - a

“ It is Dolores again! I thought both of them
Were gone! He has come here, again by ap-
pointment to meet her.” , , . .

The woman was gliding along a few guess be-
hind ‘St. Cyr. She ha a long we r- , f
cloak around her; the hood was over her ;
she ke t in the rear of the man. , .

Sud only Cicely threw up her hands and vs
:fsharp cry ofwarni .8 ,e wastoolatea t
it. The woman had ted up to the man, be~
fore he was aware of her presence. Cicely had
scarcely com rehended her p before she ,
saw the fins of a pistol, a light wreath, of
smoke, and St. Cyr—if be it Were—falling to
the ground. !

Then aloud roll of thunder rattled close over
her head, the rain came down in a fierce dash, -
like the charge of cavalry; all she could do for
the next five minutes, was to gravel as close to
the rock as possible face down. ' ,

As soon as this wildest and last effort of the
tempest lost somewhat of its force. the icked
her way dewn the rough path’and ran the
spot,d where she had seen the brief drama
act . .

The woman had disappeared: her victim la
on the sands,ydead, or apparently so. The
face, with closed eyes, was indeed St. Cyr’s.

Faint and sick at heart Cicely gazed upon

no.

How quickly the mind will fins]: a thousand ‘
ideas  such a moment! Her rst impulse was
to run, shrieking for helfia The second waste
steal up to the * ouse o nge her clothes, say
nothing to any one of what she had seen, but
leave t 9 body to be discovered by others.

Such a course would save her own name from
gossip, for it came upon, her with startling
power, how strange it would a pear to others

but she should he thereon the  atsoearly
an hour and in such a storm!- -

 

@686

Also. it would give   

 

 

 

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 "moretinm inwhiehto
‘the oneoo'xlheot St. 

Dents reven for’the'v‘n‘onfigifhad done her,
shelled not eshadowpfs . ‘  ,
She had herself aided Doloresto have uninter—
Viewwith St. Cyr, that dayon which she had,
Written to him to meet heron the beach. It was
Dolores she meant him to meet there; it was

v Dolores’s secret she was faithfully keepilug when

she refused an explanation toSir Cary .. ' 1
She had sup her friend was safe in Low
don with her ether, until she became an invol-
untary witness of the tragic scene in the storm.
Her second impulse, as we have said, was still
to protect her friend—~her foolish mad friend 1——
from the co uences of this rashand fearftu
criminal act. she stood there, over the pros»
Wale body, for two or three minutes, trying to
decide what it was best she hould do. _ .
It might be that St. C had only fainted.
ere was a little pool of cod under his left.

i 8houlder. If not yet dead, he needed_care; it
I  her duty to send assistance immediately to

She stooped r shudderin at first from
held to foot, ’fefidhfe pulse—p ced h’er hand
Ever his heart. There was not the slightest m0-

lons ,

Thecertain thathew‘asdeadiled her back
to her desire (a? shield her dear f and from the
dull r of her rash and most wicked deed. Che
I‘eso ved to go quietl home and say nothing.
3130 ho to be ablz to reach her, chamber
WIthou meeting any one. .

Cicely was oung, generous, im rudentl—shp
cOlfldnot th on every side of e terrible di-
1William which she he become involved.
11.33311” that side which was safest for her

She left the beach—left its terrible story to be

1d]; the first passer-by made her wayto-.
Ward t e house went round, into the shrubbery,

v clime thro h the flower—garden, and entered by

’ gained her room,

I m ’ n
' laer

' Success

3 door whic led into the morning—room. So far,
“38 encountered not a human creature. The
Vlolent rain had kept people under shelter; and
at the Rookery she snmed only the servants
woult'l haunt of be .

She had fled up the stairs, and had nearly
when a door at the upper end
31’ tthe corridor opened, and some one stepped

u .

Her broad-brimmed garden-hat was drawn

down over her face; she pretended not to ob-

. Serve that any one was in the ball, but opened

the door of her room and glided within.
01108 safe in this retreat she sunk down on the
390:: It seemed to her that she should faint or
it. The horror of what she knew just began
to 001m to her. Before, she had been so con-

founded, soshocked, that she had not realised v

““Ything—that so. Cyr was dead—murdered!
That she had been a witness of the scene! Her
Own danger began to occur to her.

p‘Ol‘c'nng herself by pure power of, will to keep
from swooni , she strugg ed to her feet. The
.IWB ormolunglock on the mantle told her that
"1 a an hcur breakfast would be on the table.
tOgotobed, to buryherfaceinthe
hide from every eye; yet she know

She ion
pluows, to

' Who corms would not be prudent. She must

886 03 her wet sand—drag'rled garments and

,  She mtist go down to the

thugh and chat'with the Book-

ery mum's 8-8,” nothing had occ Not

mm? Em“)! her age would have been 

‘0 severe an effort. The one the ht t it
donecarried

mu“ be her through wit tolerable

' 1 She did inot want her maid to see her storm-

ched clothes, so, after some hesitation she
$3.?""°§“P1“‘lh§ than” i“ " ' o
, so use 0 er. lug-room, an
“bitchyofhhotmnk in her 'et. he
wk y done this and dean a dressing-
“. ' In to comb out her long dang
hm “0n the rl came in. saying that she h
8° . once'or twice before.
1 than“, Nora, l do not need you this morning.
mybw _ I braid my hair in one braid down

 g seenif Miss Nugent does not

't
she went away.
- chm! is that mnnegus she don’t never
“‘1‘ 0‘ herself I cogst abidé to do things for

     
       

 

          

  

N at ' i l ' .
H “3%: $1311“?e2u 3133,; illtempered and no
  Y) ' edhenhair' and tonapret
 m0. dress.  inpuhopesthe pig
'tac‘emgvm Mmeofitsroe‘e-colortoher
N‘Q’T'hbrealisedthstshswasverym.
donng in all brief  life 
"i   j r. so. somehow to

 

._ I .  m Herr

 herself - yet
one would have noticed
“who ii“ “2” m”

0 . wen $le"
ed attention to  y k y I

“I don’t Wonder our color is washed out,
dear Cicely, after e drenching you got this
mernmg.” '

“ Were you out in the storm, my dear!” ask-
ed the captain, looking up at his trembling
dau hter. ' \ .

“ went out for a little breath of air, and the
storm came up so qingkly, papa, I got caught.”

‘: Where were you
‘ In the flower—garden rpmgtan‘fivged “p10?
u n e t..

Cicely the truth,
“I do hm Ishall be any the worse for a

wetting). You know I haven habit of walhn‘ 3
before reakfast.” '

“ A habit to which she owes much of her fine
conga tIldoubt no ,” remarked KaJo‘ r Barmely,
8 an 3’. _ , . . _

“ But, you should have seen her when she
came in! persisted Miss Nugent, laughing af-
fecteglly. ‘She looked forlorn enough, I assure
you ' . . .

.“ Momma, did you‘ say the Berkeleys are to
Sly-can archerygfiarty next Monday?” asked

ifiely, to t e current of talk. from her-
so .

“Yes. Our invitations came last evening;”~
and then the company to chat about
archery, leaving Cicely to herself.

She. orced herselil to eat and drink, to r lid
in some fashion when she was spoken to. - hat
she suffered mean time can only be inferred.

She was making desperate efforts to nerve
herself against that hour, which she felt must be
approaching, when the murder would be discov-
ered and announced at the Books, - 

It came sooner even than she h anticipated.

They were still in the midst or the archery
discussion, when a servant entered the room in
such a state of. excitement as to at once arrest
the attention of all; his eyes were like saucers,
his teeth chattered when he attempted to speak.

“ What is it, Joe!” asked Captain Faye.

“0h, sir, there’s been a murder down on the
beachl’

The company stared at the intruder. .

“ A murder? Who! What? How do. you
know?” asked the captain, rising from his

chair. . .

“I hope to heaven poor Dolores has gotten
safely away!” thought Cicely, turning as white
and still as marble.

“0 Captain Fa e, if
’Twill a cat shoe 1”

“ Out wi it I” cried his master, sternly.

“,Well, sir, as Bob Batters, the old fisherman,
youknow, air, was a—going along the beach a

it ago, as he come right opposite the Books ,
he saw a man a-lymg on the sand, an’ he wall-{—
ed up to him an’ (mud him dead as a door-nail.
The man had been shot in the shoulder. He
called some of us down, and who do you think
it roved to be, sir?” ' .

‘g‘hat iswhat I am waiting for you to tell
me. _ ,

“ Well, it was that fine gentleman as visited
at Cliff Castle an’ often called here, sire-St.
Cyrerlt was Mr. St. Cyr.” .

An exclamation of surprise and horror broke «
rmfll‘ J in

“ you sure, oei '. St. 0 was not in
this of the country.” yr
. “ t’s he, And, the queer part of
it, ladies and gentlemen,” continued the man, '
feehn ‘glhat he was addgezsingthquiiie an audi-
ence, , _e neer o l is, at ewas-not'
dressed hke 1mm??? all, but in the clothes of
a lfibonng 11118.11. ti t '

ore excama one o surprise from eve -
body but Cicely; she sat rigid and blanchg,
gazing at the informer with wide eyes.

“Excuse me, ladies. Come alon , major.
We must see into this,” said the'cap in, hur-
riedly. “ Norfolk will you go with us?”

The three gen omen, joined by Lord Grac
ham, who had only gust come down to break-
fast, went away to t e beach, leaving the ladies
to stare at-‘each other. Miss Nugent fixed her
cold gray eyes upon Cicely:

“Aren’t you glad you did not go to the
beach, this'morningl” she asked.

Cicely could not answer her; but she felt a ,‘
scarlet flush risin and. burning in place other i
marble. allor. he would have given worlds r
to have“ opt down the telltale blush, but she
w“ . ‘ .

A flizhtoemeintcthefelineeyeewhieh‘
f‘lileznms. cash: Wheat. 

. \ ‘ A l ’ l 4‘;

v'oiée"  ' .<--..::;
{flambobletgstno
er  0101' ,r
N 

you only knew!

 

r :i: a

’4’:

' a‘ messenger,

 

Cicely finally managed to
.“We soon know. «Come! I cannetfi
here. Lotus out on the lawn. luwihsendy
Captain Fayedees not  m‘
inafewmements. » , i ' 
.And the ladies, fluttering like a covey ed
frightened birds, hovered on the lawn, feeling“
that it would be “too dreadful” in the -
until the gentlemen returned with word M
was

  
 

CHAPTER VIII.
' A BALL-3001K BPBOTEB.

Tun work of breaking Lucy Crossley'e heer. I , '

went bravely on. , r »

She was more thanfascinated byherstudi-
only-indifferent cousin. If she had been a
moreartful girl it, might have been said that
“ she flu herself at his head;" as it was Caryl
knew pe ectl well how innocent she wasiof
all art—that e ‘ust simply loved 4 him, as the

roses bloom or, e violets grow” blue, without w '

thought, without calcula 'on.

e knew
to her, on . ‘
her home, that he loved, or had loved, another a
woman. But, Caryl Was in a ,
mood. He would not t forth a ban
his young cousin from urting herself. All the ~r

andthathewaadead. . W

to 

ask, to. '

a , ,
too, thatheoughtto haveeonflfied .f“
e very first day..of his coming into, I.

passion one of her sex could feel would not seri- T ,

ously harm her. If she blind] and  -
broke her own heart she won! easily  
with another lover. uldmot trouble 

ewo . ,
selftowarnherl '

He did not acknowl e'to him   ‘ .

was leasant to have this ovely girl d _ I
age him, asif he were a god and she wereltbg

priestess. ' . p . ,
He went with her everywhere that e asked . _ '
e int-the v ' ‘

him to hen she, :-
went to the opera or to an occasional

gill.- He drove with her, shopped with her _ elk )

lowed himself to be made that useful crea ,

was herescort w

’which a g
be

Lucysoon teased her father to giveher aballf‘ , -‘
There were still pleat of people in London, and ’ ‘

——as she argued—she ad not yet been
coming-out partyi although she had

sented at court. ediatel after Sir

'78nt
n .

arrival she beganto thin]: ofyit; at the 

ten do. the wish was an accomplished fact.

Sir, olm’s line house was turned intoa com,  »
garden for the occasion. He spent an extrama-  ,
511mb '

t "sum on flowers, music and ,

R3; extremely n he had accumulated some
money, while his
saving half his liberal income; now that

was cominghout as a young lady he had

“ There will be one beauty present  V
cousin Caryl,” assorted ,

look into her blue eyes. 7 .

“ I want you to meet her and tell if. I »
do not agree with me,”,she continu  ,
and coloring. “Her name 18 Leon——~ x I “I
loresIeon. Her father is’of Spanish birth  _ l '3;
she hasthe dark, lorious Spanish beauty: 

it? “mic? is an '1 «e - r
ancuswes we, asspriug.‘a
was airways, a friend of his—for the 
was of the old blue blood of Spain—at this; A,
did take to trade-mud clings to  ;
you,papa deerl. Ihaveo yseen ‘ '_
or twme l have been away so much in
but I fell
eyes! melted _
ourself. She was educated, I believe, nil, , H ;
¥Voolscn’s Finishing School at 18”.” ' ‘ 

m
in love with her at first sig ’

Sir Caryl
“ When did she leave school?"
“inst March—the time of her father’s
“Then she must have known 016er F" e,”
thought he, but he did not unfit, for 
never mentioned Cicely to his cousin.
remember hearing her ‘ ' _
her bosom-friend. I wonder if this: Mzsa Leon,
knows about St. Cyrl If th two . iris Were not
intimate she robe.ny does ow
chsSgraoohn airl”
1r Caryl

ball. He we not admit it to himself,  

‘waeso. Hewantedtomeetldissleonandlead

hertotalkabontcicelyli‘ '
“Besare on

hem-led,

donotn “deem
WWW“

wir-

, . firm; magnum. r

aboutthat’, _
antotake more'intercst in." "i a; I

cod-looking cousin "can sometimes, I

tighter was in “had, by y I

, enou h in or and in the family to desire‘her" ,f 
first to be something unusually attract I.
1V8. ' ‘

Lucy, as they satvata' 7
dinner which had been served an houre'ar 1,1,. - . 
than usual in order, to have the room , f _, for-,- I ‘

“112511 aware of that,”hc   ‘

We. ‘ ,

dare sag:i was a merchant on; >

his “3 ca. K ';

diamonds! .Youmustseetlienif', 
startedwhenheheardthat,  .y  r

“I ’ L A;
of Dolores Leon  "

v.
‘\
s. -, ‘
... v
"as. I
., ,‘ "7 i
‘ w ’ " ,

>. A"

 

 

4'! ‘.

v rdtigsheiflmmm“

lo

 .,  ‘7. .i y M I .4. ,
7 »  \I  ., .1 k  l .
, 1 .

’  other,”

T . ,s » .‘Y.V¥‘1"'
 I I: ',, _ , 4‘ .

.{V

.4

 

erqusihMissLeon’s
t‘igheshouldyield
elookedatherself

. She th ht “
gthe spell of  dark e
Lucy was not vain, but

I long and anxiously, when she was dressed for

theball- shewantedtoiook wellin
eyes. [The mornin starshinin out of moonlit
could nbtbe irer than e in her fleecy
white dress, I with pale pink roses.

, “Shine out, ittle head, sunning over with
.curls,” quoted Caryl to her, when she floated
down the grand stairwse—wreathed with smi-

and camelias—end stood before him in the

Caryl’s

' ' 7' drawing—room:

 

 

 

 

 

i,,.

‘1 r

 
  

.1 ..

1.

' John sailed into the room, carefullydr

‘ a

>- mhty face, a S nish gran

, " neck. For one so
, *mel‘anchol e

r knowledge of the truth.

  Not“?

to die away
i ' “Since do not care for

. [freon-,Bir Cary

.‘pf‘fiyfigtoldherhowhis “khan hat
to».  as serum.»  new
* ~_.

and rose 02?: with --
. over curls,
To the were, and be thexiigsun.‘ "

, “ Are you satisfied with me cousin Caryl!”

“ I should be a graceless cri ’c were I not."
"Papa. are you”satisfled with me?” as Sir
es a
, and lovable old tleman. “ No, no,
you must not touch me ” as the proud parent
was about to gllve heron approving hug. I “ My
dress, pope, is ike the bloom on the grape, not

messes" - a

i“ ’ will he one of the proudest do of my

lite,” murmured Sir John, whohadma e a.

 dinner-table speeches in his time. ‘
fl sweeter than an English violet, isn’t she,

$71. my bog!”
‘“ ‘1‘ she tf;a)ullkin love witllli 11:11:11 shall have
,marry, oer so from u gmygood
golds feelings,” thought the nephew, in a sud-
' of remorse.
e rooms began to fill. While making him.
self agreeable "with the ease of a man of the
world to such of his fair ecqluaintance as he

' _“  sang: of satin and limmer of pearls,
8% on ttle head, sun

The

saw in  l he 17 a sh ook—out for the
- darkleyes of iss Lion. Hm danced three

 and Luc having. stood by her father’s
side to receive or guests, had at len h been
use to accept his inv tation forthef h, when

‘ ,heaasked her:
1 3“ Is not Miss Leon here!”

“I am afraid she is not coming, althou h I
have not received her regrets. Ah! there s e is

" now! Take a good look at her. I must go and

k to her. As soon as I can bring it about I
' ‘ introduce you ”

Sir Caryl saw a tall, slight ful as a

girl.

1 willow, on the arm of a gentleman of dark and

dee still, if a ru-
les Leon was simply dressed
a string of
against the
ab had 0 lmangew'fintld
e a y
on, which others attributed
r’s business troubles, without any
t first as she enter-
was pa e, with a far-away,
lookinherlargee ; before Caryl was
, to her, however, some emotion had
‘ ' the exquisite color to her cheek: but
trouble and m ) ry were in her unfathomable
which ed him

merchant.
in ,White, without a jaw
pearls that rested owingI

ny Warmth of her beaut

9:08

to harm

" the room she

 
 

;  floated through the measures of a

" like thistle-down. Yet she never.

 mlts together; Caryl found that she

  at’hiaoompliments; sheseemed nottobethink-
‘ V .mggrftheplaoeortime.

. _ on waltz so ethereally, Miss loan, you
 “are”; r a... n
‘  am on care or .
tetherfihad not urged it  should not be hex-emit;
‘Youmnotaximnndr

“No; I do not care for the world." .
“You live above it,” suggested her compan-

ndl got-W'eiiamllatggmpl‘!

quickl , a reca-
3pc whileaburning blush
cheek and forehead.

dancing either, sag

we sit here in this window an look on

indifleren l” I V
tor-y motion of her hand
for a single moment

as quickly.

he found heraseat where the draperies

'. ,  and
 window made a sortof half-retirement.
e

' Th and passionate music of the waltz
throbb’ed  the crowded, flower-scented

stood by the pensive, beautiful
r, half wondering at herutter want of
° ways of women.
cousin been educated

'36 .
hadbeeu.

m'w ‘.;‘ - s

so, A.

 

I  A,  1w“
 tambourine-Wm:

- “Indeed! ,Theu,  you now an ae-s
quaintance of mine, as yet"

It was with an effort he pronounced the name;
but the wild, restless jealousythat worked with-
in ur him on to (speak.
e““‘°"‘€'a§: °' hit." I “$32331”

e grea e es 'n u a en
splendor. “We {verachumg—&ared the same
room.”

“Yes?”

“She is the very loveliest girl in the Whole
world l—a rson capable of true friend??? I
know, for have pu her friendship to .”"

Sir Ca I looked down with a sneer into the
kindling ace:

“ I thought it impossible for truefriendship to
exist between women—especially young and
pretty ones. ,You must pardon me if I admit

hat am skeptical.”

“ So am I. I hate women enerall ," admit-
ted Miss Leon, frankl . a“ ut CiceyFfigis
the one once on whic proves the rule. is
true as steel ” emphatically.

“I have only known her since she came from
school, in Ma .”

"I remetn r, now, that I have heard her
speak of on,” said Dolores with a sudden in-
quisitive ook. ‘

“ Have you seen her since you returnedfrom
Porto Rico, Miss Leon?"

Again that scarlet flush crept up into the pale
olive cheeks.
"I went to see her," she answered, unwill-

in l .
aE‘ell me,” cried Sir Caryl, in a d rate

burst of feeli “ did 011,de she make t 9 ac-
quaintance of . St. £E-r while in 8—--—?”
Dolores stared up at im with wide, terrified

eyes. Her own emotion was so great that she
finite misunderstood his. She grewwhite, and
e e opened her lips twice to answer without
making a sound.

“Oh, on need not betray your friend, Miss
Leon! take back my impertinent question,"
with that fine sneer again. ‘

“My friend! betray my friend!” her look of
fright changing to one of 

‘ Never mind, Miss Leon We will change
the subject." - '

He considered her puzzled expression a Cpiece
of womanly actin , done in defense of cely
Faye. He belie that be had su rised the
truth out of her in that first instan when he
brought 11 St. Cyr’s name. She had v been
alarrned or her 'ilty friend. No after-act-

persuage him from that first dis-
covery.

He congratulated himself on his keenness; he
thought worse of Cicely than before.

Unable to recover hisu'ssumed carelessness at
once, he stood silent, staring at the brilliant
kaleidosco pictures made by the dancers,
while the ow, soft, dreamy music beat, beat,

beat on heart and brain, sadder more on-
ate, more full of longing and pain and elicious
madness than ever before.

While he stood there, moodin silent, disturb-
ed more than he knew, and Dolores furtively
watched him, two gentlemen came in front of
the window-recess and paused there to have a
chat. One orthese was the host, Sir John, the
other a younger man of fashionable figure.

“There has been astranfireportflymg about
$33M, to-night,8irJ_ 1am dniditis

e.
.“Whatisiti’ Iheard ofnothingunusualbe-
fore I came home to dinner.”

“I do notthink the newshas been in London
more than a couple of beans. It is awild story, ‘
which still lacks complete confirmation; though
Imyself,wenttoane perofilcetolearn
aboutthete :itwas tmademesolate
in arriving; Sir John. ”

i‘ What this strange news, Mr: Verneri”

“1,3 is about St. Cyr. You know Harley 3t.

“ By reputation very well. I have met him
times.”

several
“Well thereportto—ni h telegra hfrom
the western coast, is that egg; was shgt dead,
early this morning, on the beach somewhere
near Cliff Castle. His body, still w was
 onthe sands, andnoonehas, asy , dis-
covered the murderer. He was shot in the
“gmhhgum rd fthi i":
, ir eve we 0 s ace 0
news. In an instant  and jealousy of
the manwho,less than a month mwsshis
guest, sitting at his table, ea salt, and
was :10de andfgone bythe and ofan ae-
died out. a had felt the impulse, in
meet the  of  to do
asimilardeed. How teful he was thatsuoh
 ’ in theirbinthi * » '
What had St. Cfir been doing to luingsueh a
aesme automated outlawed tor

, \

A /

.ivs :’('~'

43%  ' i .1:

In.
.u If

 ' whhefsirJohn‘eae his N
106*- ‘
 81:. %; and must have heard what was
said about fate. He turned tospeakto her
gout it. A tmfiglggflx wmihmr lair.
wasstaring e ' *a espsa -
ers. iHer face ’se’emed  its awful ex~
presson ' ‘

horror! No. It was a stun , indescribable
look of conflictin passions. he was not an
conscious althoug she Seemed as if her senses
were spellbound. '

He kc to her in a low voice so as not to at~
tract 3 attention of others. éhe did not a
fin hear. him. Then he touched her—— d

fazed. land orgihherigoft rounl d arm,hi , and
I 1... ‘ y. e w a on s verin
aniling ung‘athom g

'n 5
Afterawhlleherememhered thatMissLeon'

i
What was that expremioni Was itseler of ,

 . edthose solemn, _ able 1
“Will you find my father!” she gasped. “I

want him to take me home." ,

Without sword Sir Caryl droppedthe cur
tain before her to hide her from prying eyes,
and went away to find Senor Icon. '

In five minutes the Spaniard and his daugh-
ter were out of the rooms. Dolores did not at—
tempt to bid good-night to her on hostess.

Sir Caryl went out and foundieon carriage,
a time] service for which the Spaniard warmly
thank .him; then returned to Lucy Crossle ,
who had just begun to miss the attentions e
had expected from him.

He said nothing about the stran . news he
had heard; but it w red abou until seen
everybody was to king 0 it, and a light shadow
fell over the brilliant scene—that shadow of
Death, whose-specter stalks amid the
flowers and go
all-vs and poverty-stricken tenements. ‘

 

CHAPTER IX.
um am or momraxoss.

Tm: body of St. Cyr lay on the beach for two,
or three hours while a coroner was sent forte
the nearest town and arrivmg, viewed the
body, which would soon have been movedto
kee it from the encroaching waves, forthe tide
he turned some time a o.

sweetest ,
yest places aswell as in dark

It was sufficiently evi cut that the murdered

man had been ap ed from behind and fired
at by a pktollntlganthat he had fallen just as he
18. and died tly. In vain the coroner and
o are endeavored to trace the course of the as-
sassin. The violent rain and the incoming tide
had washed out o‘very footstep. .

When the question arose as to where the body
should be taken,  Fa e felt the generous
impulso to order i to his ouse, since he
knowu St. Cyr' but thoughts of the crowds who
would rush to e Rookery, andthe intense state
of excitement such a crowd, from such a cause,
would keep u amon'fibthe ladies of his house-
hold, restrain him. estewaniof can e
was on the spot, and oflered aroom ,iu his cot-
“ary‘h” '. 9““ 1‘“ “i “i - mm

W was on an as an ,

home for a few attend to the funeral of
his late friend and visitor. »

The telegram arrived at Sir John’s d the
ball, net after the L’eous left, and Cary
cl its character to his uncle. -

.r’“

“Imuststartb . the flrstmorning train”he ‘

remarked. “ It knew who was poor Her ’s

most intimate friend orfriends I would send or "

them to ac‘compan me. I am sorry to have
such horrible news ked over before Lucy. I
wish the matter could be kept from her.” 2

‘fSodoI—atleastiortouight. Iwill tryto *

“gradual. Crossl enj yedher ball with
n so, no ey 0 V -
out the shadogfallin on her, than 11 she learn-
ed, from the papers t e following y, why her
cousin had no oil before she was u

Sir Caryforeached 0118 Castle 3 t three
that afternoon. The housekee r had luncheon
ready for him and the half ozen others who
flocked around him on hlsleaving thetrain at
the village.

It was strange to the baronet tobe thus taking

the lead in the affairs of his dead acquaintancei g'

St. Cyr, «who had never been an intimate trien
of his, but only a. half—welcome guest. Yet
no one else came forward to
ties he took them up. , .

When he had lunched, he went to look on the
dead face, at the sight of which he was more
delay] than he could have behaved. ‘

e all thingsan to creepeet-
able funeral. He then sent for thhyold fisherman

,since

 

/

ha..-

m
.4  ,,_, “a. I

Whehad  thesmurdar cable of him 
' on, as gothsnwhehas'seendisa tthd‘r"
any as ' Mumm'mymm  

    

 

 



perform these du- “

 

 

3’“.  ownyy qr, “I, 

' \

4

~41.

 

 

ammo or so Cyr; even. did not pm out him , “Have cu s' ken to an one elss'about this sent. hialips would have remained  that.
commons that so " ‘ ya murder shtuld‘ matter David? " "y ' -- « tomcat her alone, at that lace, aroused all the
_ )e  , and that he'would do all in his “Not to albumen soul! Says I'to'myself, Wresentment thlsna um.  «

»» power to discover the deer. ’ = ‘rn keep it for so Ca 1:: If he thinks best to She looked up at the sound of his twin? '
, About'nine o’clock'that night he was pacing ’peaoh on the youn l , well an’ good-let him find their 0 85 met- She Shrunk back as if, 8
up and. down his library, alone. Hewas nervous ’peach. v If be thin ii); to keep silence, he can hand “Nd! 01‘ 8 HOV. , " , ,
and agitated, notalone on account of the inur- keep silence.’ I’m goin by your, orders, sir; When She first lwked “P then was, as 
der but also because he was again so near Cicely fur, you see, I suspicion you was sweet on her. trouble and horror in her Sweet 9 68, but $01511-

 Faye. Captain Faye had been over durin the She’s as nice prettfy a young lad as ever draw- 138 01 spilt; but his had in i such Talent-v \
afternoon; but, of course, had shown lit 9 of edthe breath o’li e. ' ’m dumb ounded, an’ no less accusation thati was withering. She ‘ t ,_

the hearty friendlinessof yore. Caryl felt lonely
and depressed. It seemed unnatural not to be
able to run over to the Rookery, as had been his
custom, all summer.

Cicela'h soft,

a haunted him. Eve -
where e lookeg y“

he saw only her lovely, nob e

' roaching him, with its gentle pride, for .

' . ace rep
his accusations
_ hev'ed her innocent!
, againsttheimpiusetoh ’ over to the Book-
ery and beg her pardon! proofs. against her
were too strong. ‘ He would beimaklng a fool of
‘ himself to believe her eyes against the evidence
at his senses So he battled with himsclf. As
, he walked up and down the housekeeper knocked

at the door:

mfgier’e’s Dave Davidge wants to speak to you,

. "‘ Let him come in.” '
A oung fellow of the working-class sidled
intotheroom, cap in ban Hewas a sort of
Jack-of—all—trades to the neighborhood, but
lately had been in the baronet’s emglog, lodging
up stone wall and doing similar wor . 1r ry
had done him some favOrs, giving his old mother
the use of a little cottage rent-free, and Dave
had a fancy for his young master and was 8.1—
,wa eagertobeofservicetohim.
‘ How do you do, David! What do you want
of me, this evening?” _
David was twirhng his cap around in an em-
. manner.
“It’s about the murder, sir,” he answered,
Without leaking up.
“evcvlhfit do you know about that?" Sir
Dave closed tagger cautiously and came close
the baronet. ‘

""l‘i‘s shard thing totell, but help 'n I must.”
“ Out with it, then. If you rea y can give
me any ble information I shall be very glad

“ Not so glad as you mought think, sir. But,
I’ll tell what I knew. Mind you, Sir Caryl, I’ve
kept it for you, an’ when I’ve turned it over to
1lieu you can do as you like with it. I’ll do yaw

. ‘i I u about it—-none other! If you wants me
to telfl’ll tell. If on wants me to hold m
tongs I’ll holdit, ere’s a fair bargain, sir.

~ ‘ ery well. I have confidence in you, David.»
Go on with your story.”

. Still Dave hesitated, twirling his old cap

round d ,

“ Reggae," he ' after glancing about
'hiz‘ntoimake certain , doors were shut, and
cloning his throat went on in a loud whisper:

“,I was e-g ' alon the beach this morning
about eight of cloc keepingm eyes skin-
,nedforaknifeldro lasteve ,oom -
homejfrom the villa that way; an , 11st as
turned the corner 0 the big 1

,sh', Icame touched-still, fur Iseen something
a! me that much. Some one wasdown
,ronthesandasif howas d
was standing outer him,a»f I hiswrist un’
hishem‘ttomakewtbowasd tenure. As
soonasshe felt satisfiedhewasgon sherun
away as fast as her heels could carry er, beg-
, wgdng gym pardon, I sir, butso it was and so she
en
“ Whydid you not give chase andarmst her!”
“. ’Cause I couldn’t a-bear to,” answered Dave,

" looking down. .
‘.‘ W y coulirdn’t ‘ a-bear to,’ my lad!"
n h ”

How ladly would he have be—
ow fiercely he fought

an’-—an’ a ’oman

“ ’Cause, , I ought a: how you was sweet

er. . ,
“I! sweet on her! What are you jabbering
I about?”
“It was Miss Cicely Faye, sir!”
“ Miss Cicely Faye Becareful, Dave Davidge,
What you say!” '
. “ It was her, as sure as Lot’s wife turned to a
pillar 0’ salt! I see’d her just as lain, an’
Plainsr, than I see on this minute. he wasps
’Wet as water with e rain; her face wasfiwhite
as a sheet; it was Miss Fa e—nobuddy else!”
“ Doyou think she shot ' i”
. “ I can’t swear-to that. The smell of the pow-
der wa‘n’t cleared away-aha was steeping over
’ him-she’ tup an’run awe Him: much I’ll
~ takerny ibis osthon. Idi ,‘t see her the no

 iirggfimigninmmmifl' ha a” '
  , ,seeerwvenoee, ,or_’n.sir.
‘ ‘Whotlsewisaw. Iwon‘tzobeyondthat.” I

‘ o

1

    
 

" ,V
~ 3 .4‘  .é

; .

>.c.l‘k ’, ' L“ I-

rock, you know, . sure

‘ felt a, sudden "

mistake. So I leave all in our hands.”

“ Thank you, David. , on have been more
discreet than could have been expected. I shall
not forglet it, in the future. Consider me under

b 'gation you choose to 1m . I will
is v k of what you have told me. am too sur-
prised— ed—to come to any conclusion to-
mght. me the favor to keep absolute silence
about the matter for the present.” ‘

“Just what I thought you’d want me to do,
Sir Caryl." ’ ,

Dave stumbled out as he had stumbled in
leavm ; the master of Clifl Castle in a frame of
mind a thousand times more unendurable than
that in which he had found him. i
There was not one doubt remainin in Caryl’s
mind that Cicely Faye was one of the guiltiest
of creatures. The theory of the motive of her
crime was com leteto h m. Itran-in this wise:
She had had‘a ove aflair, while at school, with
this woman—hunter, St. Cyr. This love affair
had beenof a compqu nature- when she
had gone home she had defined to drop it, be-
cause St. Cyr was not a marrying man, nor an
eligible part! had he been a marrying man; he
Sir Caryl had offered her marriage and she h
accoedpted him, with the selfish aim of makin a
go match; when she found that be had is-
covered her previous intimacy with St. C r,
she had thought that St. giyr had made his
boasts; and she had killed am, either out of
revenge, or in the hope that, were be out of the
way, ir Ca 1 might again come forward with
his suit, ovenooking the 

This was a very Ere theory, indeed, and
probable—from Sir cry 8 point of view!

As he thoughtit ovor, his brow contracted
his face set in an expressxon of stem wrath an
contempt, that argued ill for any more ' which
Cicely might expect of him. His love or that
young, pure-eyed 'rl seemed to him, that
night, like a sail the staggers on a stormy sea
and ices down; it perish utterly—was a total

wrec .

He said to himself that Cicely Faye deserved,

and should have, the same punishment for her
crime that a thief or a footpad merited for the
same act. He said to himself that in the morn-
ing he would go before a magistrate and have a
warrant got out for her arrest!
» Because his love had been passionate and
deep, his condemnation was nowsevere. He
assured himself, over and over, that he would
see  done, though Cicely Faye were
cru

He was in this mood. when he went, very
late, to bed. He awoke early, after a little fe—
verish sleep, and his fierce determination to see

ce done began to waver.

“ One cannot do justice,”'his thou now as.

dhim “without alsodoing bt r wrong.
lmt  good h
, a n , woman s 9
gain 1%.. who has served his
countryhonora yl CanIbethe onetobow
their proud to break their loving hearts?
My God, no! cannot—cannot! Let the truth
oomeoutif Providence so wills it, but let me
not be the instrument.” " ‘
It was a terrible situation, mentally, in which

to be placed.
“I would give ten thousand pounds if David
had not told me!” .
His trouble was greater than on the previ

ev . . .

As sogon as he had breakfasted he went out to
walk. He could not remain quiet. The funeral
was fixed for Friday, so there was nothing, at
present, to occupy his attention. ,

He went down 9.1 the sands, almpst with-
out knowing in what 'rection the “spirit in his
feet” drew him. As he came to that uttmg
rock and psesedit, the scene of the mu or was
before his eyes. Who was that? Great Hea-
ven '

Cicely Faye, with downcast eyes fixed, as by
an irresistible magnet, on the spot where S
Cyr fell! He saw that her face was pale and
troubled. Her white morniu dress flowed
about her, in the light sea-wing, like the gar-
ment of an angel. ' , .

He went toward her-with great strides. He

that she should be there,
gentle:

looking.» soft " ' When she was what.

 

, she wee! Had lich  otmothei‘  Dre-5

, ,

 

, some, that me .

 

up her pretty white hands as if to ward it o . . ‘
“Why do you look so?” she asked, helplessty,‘ _ ”
not knowing what she was saying. . ' ‘
“ I cannot look otherwise at a murderous!
There was a witness of your deed, Cicely Faye.
A person who came around that rock, as I «me
around it just now, and saw you standing over
the body of your victim. He came to me last
night and told me the horrible story.” '
‘ I'ou believe that I—I— Ah, this is too
crue ." ' ‘ ’ e ’
“Do not be alarmed. Donot exert your ‘
cuts as an actress! I shall not betray V - ~
rible secret. I have eaten of your fatflfl“
and I cannot be the one to denouncehis con “h
tor. As far as I am conccmed, you  9;
but, there was an eye-witness. Le me give you
a piece ofadvioe: remain away from them ‘
Do not betrayuou .” ‘ , "
Returned from horas if she were a pm
too vile and hateful for him to endure the
of her. He walked away rapidly. She
tocrytohimtocomeback—tosa that
innocent—to explain that susp cious circum-
stance—but she could not utter a word. 03:, it
was cruel! _‘ ‘ -
Cicel began tfafleel, with coldfigor, our.
pen 0 Circums cescreepm' g at ' Ind.
paralyzing her in its clammy folds. .

 

CHAPTER X.

’ run 'ronrunnn sour. ' ' v
THE funeral took place on Friday, 
attended by a large number of persons drawn 7

there by curiosiy. Searcer one of St. cm
intimates in Lon on however, took the trouble
tocomeouttoit. . Ilehadbeenabad, with
whom it was fashionable for young men to .
an acquaintance; but not one among them loved
orS ‘ ted ‘ ll kno Earl  I ‘1
a man as we we as e ' Cyr.
could not be foully murdered as he   ~
the matter be allowed to rest as not worthy of
 reward  og'ereg.t1 for the must
0 "party; a eta ‘ve cementum
“292;? “iii ~ “seems ~ ' i
. e ery,asm t item's ..
tinned the subject of discussion. a . "
was honestly anxious that the murderer ‘ “V
be apprehended; since as he remarked, the safe~
t of others might depend upon such a M '
, ring speedy punishment. . 7 . 4 “'
Sir. aryl Crossley returned to Londonfil,
morning after the funeral. seen  
Devi again andboundhim toth ‘ ’

After t, he felt,xfhe would kee his
sealed, ileum-g?! away- and so gowva
tohis uncle ue—eyedmucy. t it . y 

Meanhmoreveryhour ce 6 more ind
moredeeplythemistakeshehadmadofa. ' - ,
once themurdorthehourshe I  I
edit. Shebegentorealisethatitmightho'u.  "
farts.me ipulseto hloidnoa" 

er neroue m s '

unhappgyewife of St. Cyr, had ‘

nd the hesitati 
a t on was wor ‘ '«
trousl againstherself. '

Whithad that manwho had once,  
tle little whileOla-go pretended to love ha,“ . if
blei Must she livea‘ml boot

to her? Oh h , _ ,
it?» Must she not 7 her owninnooenoe at
an cost to her friend! . . , a
very atmosphere of her 

fullofsuspicion,w -ehe

Miss Nugent often smiled ether str y. no
gentlemen to eye her enhance, and to
avoid her. e elt it, and.yet {she could not
battle against 1 Poor Cicelyl‘ Everything
went her. ,, 1 . I 
Shehad,aaweknow,ooneealed herwetgar-x .
ments in a trunk that mornin when she came: V >
in dri pin ,mm theirsin. ‘ Summitth , a, 3;
day a ter t e funeral, Nora being away on some 
errand, she thought she would take out these
things, dry them, and have them read
laundry. When she came to open 1: e trunk
she found the hot weather had moldered them; '
and while she was looléifi at them in despair,
wondering what she ’ d do with thiamishe-

heard a sound and looking around, , p
Nerustandin hehindher starin at  ton
tale garmentg to which.  sang of

“mm” Wang  i:* 

\ .

\ .

".t‘
. \»

 

 

what! I ,

 

forthe 

  

  

\.  ._ ~ ‘ ' i" v ‘1 ' ,'   I),

2:

 

 

U," '. ;  I .
. \‘

 

 

 

 , “Olga? dear  lady!” cried Normand
, .V #3711“  about?“  asked,

y. . .
, I, H “To ookatthemthings, ma’am.” ,
, ' .‘l’Wellg‘you need not cry about that! They
are ruin ; but were never veryzexpen.
ail, '. Takethem awaytothe rag-bag, oral”
, ,7 '“ \ to me, Miss Cicely: let them clothes
.  _. be,th they are to-day. I’ll take care of
4 ‘ "e,  whenthe rest of the servants is

. , , M knew, perfectly, what the girl
thought; ut she could not answer when no
$ accusation had been made. Indeed, she
I not, herself, know what had best be done. -
fine-thing could notion r be delayed. She

' write to Dolores. t had sustained her

 

 

     
   
 
 
   
     
   
  
  
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
  
    
   
   
    
   
   
 
  

  ‘ _ this blighting, terrible trial to‘feel
I  if t 0 worst came to the worst, ’Dolores
‘ ‘fl'yto herrescue.

‘ Defines would declare her ovm guilt before
I one  allow her innocent friend, who had
aheade her lover for her sake to rest under
or  ' cw of a horrible accusa’ tion. She sat
, I» 'dowu‘tokerdeskandwrote: .- . _
u ' '
mwnownss: I was 0n the beach that moral
» "left Holiday morning. The thunder-storm drogg
" ’ » meta take refuge in ‘ Boflln‘s Bower.’ I saw all that
' :v : flit-red on the sands. To give you time to esca .
“ topreserveyoutromtheda rotarresJ
a. ‘ ‘* u to say nothing of what I ad witnessed.
was seen enterlngmy room in a drenched eon-
~ ,, «it  become known that I was on the beach
, x . m t hour; and, worst of all, some rson un-
 « V knowntome, saw me stand ever the arm-.1
'  didrushdowu, assoonas ou added,tolindoutlr
' anything could be done or him. I have been ac-
I

 
  
  

_ . Others suspect me.

V ‘«,.'~t;1know, nothow this dreadful matter will termi-

nate. I have suffered for you—am ‘willinglto suit
. Illa friend may; but,if it comes that my life s
 "openly , riled, or whatis a thousand times worse,
 . name-«if the ideal?th er the accusation
V ’  shape thatlaln gull y of e murder of the
, _ man whose, wife you were, I shell, of course. dear
- W. ' ‘i  fl look-to you to prove my innocence. I am
‘! “ \ ln'amost unhappy state of mind, on your account
.v may“ much as on my own. Ce , you must feel
til ve done 9.] that a friend can or on ht to do.
n  vetot ‘ofm dearparentsandssters. I:
' as terribly wrong or you to take vengeance into
. your own hands; but I will not be the one to blame
v - you, for I know you were very miserable and dis-
, ' treated. .-If this wretched business goes no further
, . out". depend on my silence. If I send you a mes-

- .  asking you to tell the truth about it, Ido not
 " doubt that you will successmlly defend me.

‘ r Ti Q“ ' “Your unhappy friend, 0. F.
g i;  .- :“Tmr Roomy, Aug. lst. ‘

3“ v“ M"‘long, sultry days‘dragged-by,’ tedious
ye , to the he. py, but heavy and endless to
  before s’ e received an answer to this
’ ' r ’ ed under the stress of dire necessity.

 Z priyacy of her room with tremblin
We broke the seal of the envel an
’ the important letter Ior which 3 e had.

v:  almost the ' risoner awaits the sen-
-  the judge. 'p I '
‘ ‘  grew very Edens her glance ran over the
r  handwri ng: ' . .

"J ll” ' ‘ ‘ . . ~
,, ,N p  nulls Cream. Your letter was a very
  rise and ‘puzzle to me“ I do not under-

' __,j_ ,d gt. , you an I had net beenall thatwe have
 ether 1 should, be angry with you;beyond
' ‘  bagel: think! a that heartless, nor:

  

 ' dead! 02:, cely, Cicely, how could you imag-
 r~ Vflmfl a'tbin’g’of your friend? lam aeinnocent o:
 If " i as; u’ are. I know absolutely nothing about it;
" « ‘ the papers, was at a'
' j . pa would have it that
 because he was a friend of Sir John Cross-
' waste’lllingwlth yourSir Caryl, when I heard
, standing in front or us, s leak of the mur-
-' . _ ' ' scream. . nIfeltasitI
 . Andnomlamillinbedwith the sh

, , come to you at once for a full. an
' one. I know, darling Oice , how much
I " sacrificed for me once bef
- f . . ble to on, nor your jealous lover’s distrust, nor
 ' .‘ e suspicion would have come upon you
 my full? at school. I know that a more de-
. it , friend neVerlived. All that I can no, I will do.
. .; e- grout comes to the worst, I will proclaim my
: We to the' world, for yoursake. Yet, if not
» " , ‘ , for powerful reasons of my own, I would

 
  

sis

L ,‘  unhappyi‘olly of mine to remain asecret.
 ' nyidea is, the you are nervous and alarmed with-
 "  Icannot believe that an suspect mu of

xi who crime. liwishlcould come you. annot

,  to me! ‘I wish you would. Before I re
.  ur letter, althoufih made very ill by the

,msofyt‘hat man’s sudden ate, I was beginning to
. ,7 ' Mthejoy of the release—dint, now, I am unhappy
.  riot; ’ l i . Writetome again immediately, my

' Q ~  6W,tor1shsllbe looking as soon as it is
w ‘_ :4“ ~ to receive an answer. DarlingJ "menses
,'  , ’ Ever your devoted ” L.
‘ , i‘Rosn'l'IunApl, lensington, London.“
  fell 1mm. Cicely’s nmeiess hand;

  

cused by Sir Caryl, to my face, of the shooting. ‘

ore—the. none of this ~

' for Cicely w

 

tstood on he? , s,
 tan

 

which conth about him, inch by inch, un-
til he was  ‘~ . .3, .r» '
Sci—it was not Dolores, after all!
The woman had been strangely
ht and movements.
as it Dolores I V ‘
Was this bosom friend oi? hers seeking to or
cape the consequences of her rash revenge, by
leaving her to endure the WWDCBS? ,
Poor Cicely was beginning to _ suspicious of
her friends. Her warm, true finerous, open
nature was being chilled and blig ted. ,
She drew, a lon breath,‘but she could not
free herselffrom t at oppressive weight. Ab!
would, 'she ever feel free and light of heart

The summons to dinner had sounded some
time since; she had not heard. it. Nora came
to her now, looking sharply at her_ oung mis-
tress’s strange expression as, she so: :

“The others are all at dinner, Miss Cicely;
they will think strange if you do not go down.
You’re too pale, altogether. I wish you’d allow
me toput just a touch of rose—pink on your

cheeks, miss”, ‘

make me look more hast»
1y,” answered Cice y, tryi to, smile. “ did
not know dinner was on t 9 table. I will go
down at once.” 4 ,

Her turd appearance drew all eyes to her as
she enters the dining—room. She looked so ill
that Capitain Faye ha f rose from his chair as if
to offer or assistance, but sat down again.

There were black rings about the lovely dark
eyes and a haggard ex ression to a face one
month ago as sweet and looming, as any June
rose just feelinihow pleasant sunshine is.

A covert loo passed from one to another
about the table. . .

To his surprise, Miss Nugent infomled her
host that her visit must end'on the marrow:

“The painful events of the week have so
shaken my nerves, Captain Page, that I. shall
be better ofl‘at home. know am not fit to
be a visitor so dull and mo ing as I am grow-
ing ” and Cicely knew, wi h mward anguish,
all that herspiteful rival of twent -six meant
her to understand—enamel , that t e Rookery
was no lonfirgn re u with Miss Nugent.

Nor was ‘ s ugentt e only guest who left
precipitately. One after another droppKed oil“,
until W the middle of the ensuing wee , none
but the members of the family remained at the
Rookery—u~ place famous for its hos-
pitulities.

like her in

Captain and Mrs. Faye perceived the change»

in the social atmosphere and could in no way
account for it. The fact that a murder had

been committed near at hand, on that pleasant .

beach, where visitors had delighted to wander,
scarcely explained matters.
They noticed, too, an alarming change in

their pet Cicely, the youngest the loveliest of

their darlings. It must be that she ,felt the

uarrel with Sir Caryl far more deeply than
3 e had allowed them to suppose. Theibegan
to feel that the; should have pressed t eir in-
quiries more osely into 11118 causes of, that

nan-cl. . ,, . v. . l .

q They did their best towile the story of her,
unhappiness from their daughter, but at ev
attempt Cicely and fought (ran ‘
1y to keep her trouble from them. I, - ~ I
“If on will take me to London, dearpapa,
all wilfcome rl ht. Imustseeuly dear school-
mate, Dolores n. She writes me that she is
ill in bed, and desires me to "come at once.
Will you take me to her, papa? To-morrow?”

healt

. l?s presence in y ,
wi her wanting to visit there, he took or .to
the Leone and left her there for a fortnight’s

stay.

, was glad to gorillas. Wondering if 1r

ndon had. Rhythm to do

 

CHAETER XI.
, nova in! LITTLE, nova us nose.

SIR Cr.an went back to his uncle’s ‘With a
heavy, heavy weight of care u ' n '
One moment it seemed to him to his duty to
the dead to denounce Cicely Faye. The next,

he felt that for Worlds he could not be induced 
an ,
once

brin dis e and misery to that kindl
hosp table family in whose midst be h
spent such ha y hours. It was no tenderness
prevented his becoming her a'c-
cuser. Thepassx
only increased the bitterness of his present de-
testation. . ‘ "
He did not
were also fix on the unhap
the “circumstance, that .u

   

ledhpfm

812' Caryl have pliltied'herl He was a harsh ’
e

, at home.

*‘ ther, she observed that he had p
, , to his after-dinner nap; soslie p’ut down‘thepa-
. per and went into the drawing-room 'in search

I V ‘ 1 ‘. g,‘ ‘
Cagtam Faye, really troubled for. (noel ’s and elegant and sweet she was!
' is waitin
. bloom. Girls’

his mind. v

’onate love be had felt for her ‘

pool: that the eyes of others.
*" ties without any special

lustre. edhe ,tha’tthe guests,“ the, ,
l I    ' ’ - ‘ him“. hr“.

 

ened by’the presence or a believedéto-be mun
 that Cicely knew the cause of
departure, and   alone and
.suchasfewaremadetoendnre. .

‘ been aware of these would

Judge, because h ad once been a lover. The
weight on his mind was not so much 
Cicely Faye had done, as he the ht, that tab

rible deed, as it was that he wishe to spare her V

family and that his conscience drew him in o
.te  .”

p081 ‘ 01111.. L -

Lucy saw that he zen full of care, and al~
lowed her concern for. " to show in the wist-
ful look of her blue eyes. Sir John, at dinner,
learned all the particulam known in the neigh-

borhoOd of the unfair; Wondered not a little, who X

could have done the murder and what could be

'the’mOtive; but his nephew did not once 9

, speculations on the subject. It was SirC ’3
turn to be ’

rised when his uncle observ :

“Poor St. 1 Death came to him at the
wrong timel '
us that he should be as riches an .o uswhen
his uncle, out in Australia, died: " ey had
quarreled bitterly over some of Harley’s
naughty ways, and the uncle refused to do any-
thing more for him ears ago.

his uncle’s death—for the sim le reason that
there was no other relative for i to go to.

“ ‘I’m 0mg to given cards. betting, and so
forth, an reform, Sir ohn, when I can a£ord
to‘do it,’ he told me, not so very long ago, ell»!
would you believe it, there is said, in this cw
ning’s  be a tele am to the effect that
Colone 1;. yr of' Au

lazy, and um inn-lay St. Cyr is willed all of

is large property, except a. few thousands, left.
to Charitable Societies. ,Tell me, now, if this
world of ours does not run to cross- u osesl”

“Too bad! too bad!” murmured ir cry]. ,

 

;ou know he was fond of telling w

. y But St. Cyr "
always averred that the money would be his at ,

rails, is dead of _ apo- .

i

 

He had detested the vices of St. Cyr, living, . 

but he pitied his ill-fortunes, dead. The gum-
bier, the heartless scoundrel who, had driven,
gore than one pretty poor girl to her grave-—

e
idly 1n the houses of his friends, while he sucked

at their resources with the sly vampire thirst
of the gamestexk-was’likely, thl'ou the-sull-
denness of his merited taking-off, to the ex-

alted to a high placein the memor’y'o‘f his‘aca

“Emmi” led to pal trifling ith h ’
lucy um‘ in e, A w er ome-
lette-eoufl‘lé, une le to hear so sada subject dis»

cussed without the shudderingof her. sensitive ,

glilrl-nature. Her cousin noticed it and changed
t esub'ect. ‘ . ' ’ ' '
But, e could not forget it. The face» of .the
dead man haunted him: That scene ‘where a
girl, on the sea-sands, hovered about ‘. the spot
where the tragedy had been enacted /
him. Those two pictures continued befoth
eves. ' , . ‘
"Lu went into the library. after dinner to
write? letter for her father. ' None of theth’ree
felt like gain? out that evening? soit had been
voted, at tab e, warm sho , d remain quietly
When she writtenthe, 'tterlhnd

had read a'column of the newfipdelr tot;
" 3‘36.

“f hr“ 33:??? “152%”? “138 fight???” °’
use a too es all con - ro
lostin’th‘ou ht. a " 1 ~ '  5“
lie look, up as Lucy approached: It was a'
relief to him to see an thin  brightand pret-
ty as this cousin of ’s.  owvelfi,’ veryfal;
o

w
was to awaken her sympathiesi How foul of,
irl’sheart, like

him she was ‘already!
She was at that age when a
a. rosebud longing for the warm h and sun ht
‘ to open at the . first  of art
which 8 so on it. _He knew it. He had cums
into that house. careless of how the bud

tions never! .

11‘ line was such a tool as to fall in love with r

him, wi bout encouragement from him why,
let her! This was the mood in which he had

first come to his uncle’s. Tonight his mood.

had changed somewhat. It wasa relief to know
that that sympathetic nature and that bri ht
face were so near him. With Lucy’s face
fore him he could drive away those other hora
rible inla . V '

He in oned‘with his hand for her to sit be-
sidelhiln on the sbfa. They were cousins and
beds. right to indulge in these small familiarie
'gniiicance being at-

;ka 

l. , i, \ l!

’ \u ‘ .1: v

 

asite who had lived surnptuously and,

haunted .

might '
hearts were never broken. ‘
Their vanity might be wounded, their afl‘ec‘ '

" ulcers m» - t... t.
. °m  ‘.<¥hild§?or snows. too ‘ ~ _7

 

 

 

, any. n... saw, a; new as teas;

’ not too late yet

‘00 in
1

Hr”- "-‘lr,e was sorry he was out of sgiirits. _

.p“Have you made 11 your min about going
fish as to Switzerlan , cousin Caryl?” .
“I hardly think I- shall be able to go.”

I :zgghy notl;
' ‘ utters ,0

ill/London."

“ Then I wish we were going to remain,

great importance may keep me

She Spoke impulsively; the next moment "a
soft pin wave swept over the fair face up to
' the golden hair; he saw the blush.
“ t is so much pleasanter to have a larger
. pertv,” she hastened to add. " With only pupa
and I, we shall be dull. I know papa hopes you
are oing.” ‘ _
5‘ hole John ought to have had a son,” re-
marked Caryl. '
“ Again that sweet resecolor ran over
13" face.

the love-
It said as eloquently as words—“ It is
for that l _
80“. Cousin Caryl; for the asking ”—-but the mis-
Hnthrope was in no humor for interpreting these
Pretty signals.

Still, it was pleasant to be in his cousin’s com— .

guy. It was pleasant to have her devoted to
m

“ Sing something, will you Lucy? I have
‘the blues ’ terribly. I keep thinking of those
scenes at Cliff Castle. I shall never want to go
’back there again, I am afraid. The charm of
, the; lure is gone for mew—imless, ’ he added,
(mic ly and warmly, “ I can persuade a certain
‘sweet girl to go down there with me and keep
V away the ghosts by her fair real reseuce.”

r 6‘ had no more meant to say not thanto fly
through the ceiling when he be 11 the sentence.
Heicould not explain to himse afterward what

51d induced him to make such an idiot of him-
‘3113‘ It was only that he was gloomy and lone—

‘ some, and that something in the comforting
made him

looks of his beautiful cousin had
think that he could not do without her—would
always want her about him. He did not love

’ . her-did not care for her—but if on women in

thewprldwas trueor pure or u. ,it was
63' . . ,

As he made that compromising speech Lucy
looked him in the eyes with a sudden glad ques—
firming; then her own drooped and she arose

. and went over to the piano.

.S’xe did not pla or sing brilliantly, with
monate
but she led a. voice, sweet and not very
strong, well pted. to ballads: and she sung

We) or threopathetic ones, her voice trembling

ii little at first. but Eraduall win stead .
. - awn, ghgro . , g’y

: v , l remained on a
11.13 nd,apearm‘l§tolisten, trounytoo
much vexedp with mself;to enjoy the music;
While Lucy dared not cease, - ,becauso in
“19 tremor of her happiness believed-in
" . _. she wasafraid enughtseemtobe invit-
"fihhlm to say more. . ‘
e situation was relieved by the aflpeamnce,
01,13 it a tim of several callers, for 13s Cross-

' 1° films in receivin -calls from those
/ had attended he!g  Sir John awoke

rem his nap and came into thé drawingan

V A- ct‘ntleman sat down by Sir Caryl an
. ‘to *3

 ‘ etcdw
- me

Which
-. N AI

begin
1k to him about Harley St. Cyr. 6
917 could not half listen for the reason that

. ° W83 waste another gentleman who had
gin“ entered and was being received by his cou-

It was Lord Eautboys, a great favorite in
v ndon society, a widower of not quite thirty.
though his young wife had been dead three
93-1": and he had two little children. Lord
“tho swasregarded as one of the ve best
onial market. y a
had own her preference for
“.1131; yet, so at he had paid particular atten-
E‘011 to none. It rather surprised 811- Car 1,
v “911 to note the warmth and deference th
‘ I he greeted Miss Crossley. *
,3 thousand rdons for not paying my re-
il . earlier, issCrossley, after thedelig tful
I?“ You gave us; but I have been laid up with
tgmchfi the last two da , only ventunn out
a 1" evening. You do n seem to have .ered
 m emects from the fatigie of entertuim
 I never saw you look more blooming;
{3101' '3'!“ true, for Lucy’s delicate checks were
(' r‘.’ in} with rich color and her blue eyes shone
“hi‘mly lustrous as Meow stars.
, .He certainlyadmires er!" the
1mm .30 inconsistentis human nature, a actual-
yfw  ‘ofiieoloutybocause anothercov:
he dimtprisel ‘

' ' lime sothe latestre rte thatst.
‘ ’fivfiVQW’Bt beenaver  yl’mn now,

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You might be his’

.wer o feeling, as Cicely Faye ‘dz,

htCaryl;.

 

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ing' his ears to overhear the mnvemation be—
twmn Lord Hautboys and Lucy.

“ Going to SWitzerlandl" he heard his lord-
ship softly exclaim. “ How delightful! I am
going there for my health; leave on Friday."

“ The very day papa has set for starting.”

“‘ I. had considered it a bore—have done
Switzerland so man times—but now—shall be
charmed—«ml too ppy—fortunate man—J

Caryl conl not make out every werd; but
he heard enoughz although, in his other our
some one was saying: .

“ Doubtless a woman in the easel-always is.
'liheynsay the police believe they have goth
0 CW. '

“ What. is that?” cried Sir C l, turning I0
suddenly and fiercely on this gen eman that he
caused him to start. .

C “ Tlhey, think they have found a clew, Sir

ary . ’ .

“A woman?" his heart was throbbing so loud-
ly that he lost whatever Lucy and Lord Haut—
boys may have been saying.

Wiffllg’es. They even suspect that she was his
8. .

Sir Caryl turned as white as ashes. Conscious
of it, he put his handkerchief to his face to par-
tiall conceal it.

“ young woman?" he asked.

“ Really, I heard none of the particulars.
There was a woman took the train that morn~
mi, at Cliff village,-to whom attention has been
ca. ed. I do not think muchis known of what
the detectiyes are doing. _ It is not their licy
to betray their plans 0 , investigation. but I
tell on is mere rumor, you know.”

“ f course—of course I”

But, Sir Caryl did not recover his equanimity
for some 0. _ he came to his senses a
little, Lucy wu singing for Lord Hautboys one
of the be] ads she had sung for him. His lord—
ship was turning the name and listening with
an air of devotion. He remained until the oth‘
er callers had gone away, said “ night” to
Lucy with an emprest cnt whic could notes-
ca the attention even of her father, asked per-

‘on to call again before Friday, and said
something aside to Sir John, as he took leave of
him, which brought the old gentleman back
from the drawing-room door, beaming with

pleasure.

“ My little girl has made a con uest dread
which she may well be proud of,” 0 said, wit
some emulation. "‘A , men fine ladies
have angled for Lord Hautboys an here he has
own: 3 might into our net Lucy, unless I
mistake the ' 'ns. a, ham ! pretty well
dime! isn’t it, aryli When lordship comes
to me I shall ' make no objections, for he is a
danced good follow, if notaremarkably bright.
You may know what to expect when he calls

again In little lad ,” and he put his flngcr.un—
dsg'eétllhcyg pretty c ' and kissed her, well sat-
): . “

“ 0h, papa. please do not tease me about such
things?

“Tease you? Ohol when a young lord press-
es my hand and as he anticing having some-
thing very partic ar to say me in a day or
two, how am I to understand it, my dear? Get
your blushes, and your sighs, and your fan, and
your handkerchief all ready, my lady! You

will need them,” and Sir John went off toward 1

the library, turnin back to ad ; “Think seri-
ousl of it, Lucy. e is n ivory fine man, and I
she. be content with him and his family and
fortune—”

“ Including his two children,” interposed Sir
Carvl, sarcastically.

“You cannot hope to do better, my dear,”
and Sir John wont awav.

Lucy and Caryl were standing very near to-
gether. ’

She looked up at him with timid expectancy. ,
He was ‘

He thou ht of a great many things.
{Jealous of rd Hautboys; yet he remembered
ow erl that manage had welcomed the
r0953 ofy being 11 Lac ‘3 company in Smtmer-
d, whilehe had trio to eeca \e the duty of
going with her and his uncle. ere was a fine
op rtunitytfor him to shake ofl .all reopenin-
b ty for allowing Lucy to fall, 1n love With

him, and to turn her over to the man who evi- :

dently loved her truly; so he looked into her
eager, wistful blue eyes and said. calmly:

I advise
otters, himse 1, Lucy.

ther, that you cannot do better. I am not a.

marry mani as on know and Lord Haut- A
boys dofis on t e ggound you} foot has pressed. :

i
I noticed him: tom 1:, and I sawhow'it was
going with him.» sincerely? believe he wih

make ouhepp.” W  l, .' <
Shelookedazhisa inmate,  for:

l ‘1‘ - /

m 

ou toacce t Lord Hautboys, 5! he I;
ll think, with your 1511- '

 

  

’ moment after he had concluded, and mm ’
him by bursting into tears. ' ’ . '
" Lucy/l” . A '  ,
S()lv—’-sob—-sob. ‘ ' x j _ " X
“Lucy!” , ‘ I ,_\ ~
Sob—sob—mb—mb._ V . v ' * .v
“Lucy, what is the matter? Have I hurt i ~~'_
yourfeelmmtl saidwhat I thoughtwa's for ‘ 
your ’own good. Lord Hautboys loves,
ou— '

i

p A 1
“And you do not! Oh, cousin Caryl, When, 1
you know how I love you! Oh, you are  , ~. 
crue» , \ . 3 
“ Do you love me so much, darling Lucyl", ' w x ’ ‘3

“ lion know I do. You let me love you l—wd‘ ' I a

l

l

a

He took her two dimpled hands from  ' 
her flushed face; she flashed an in t ‘ v. ‘
glance at him, and then the blue, wet eyes ‘ *3  ‘

“Can you be satisfied with me, dear '
knowing that I do not love you as a man
to love the woman he marries, but knewing, 
the same time, that I do not love ~ an one also! -
I would $0.31 make you} blappv. like you
very mu ; your grant a, oving naturemay!‘

   

 

 

      
  
 
  
 
  
  
    
    
   
 
   
    
  

some day change me m the hard,

creature now am. You shall decide for

ofus. If-vyouarewill" totskeme,’ all '

am, and can be Iatisfl with me, I w  ~  ,

beagoodhusbendtoyou" ' ‘ ..   ,3
She threw her round, white arms about his «1.1.3

neck, in ‘ herfaceonhissheulder. ‘ .. i .  l
“I woul rather have -dear Levels ‘ ’ 

ifyouhated me, than anyot or personxiufie 

world. I love you.” ‘
“I do not hate you,” he

her hair. “I like youandtruityou. ~ a
“Will on gotoSwitzerland with us, Caryl!" ”
“I wil , if circumstances do not prevent. V -,
“Will you try to love me alittle?” ' “ I, . I.
Hekissedherasshe lifted hex-face shyly. ~-
“Sho is. a dm,hgtood girl, and loves meda-

votedly,” he thong _ i V 1  
But it was not such lovemaking as that on WU '

moonlit porch of the Rookery, on that Jane ,

nightotroseeonlytwomonthsago.  

I!!!

am
'hvo e '
out on” 'ictoria ems, eagerly 
momme two "‘ ofbeau um ‘ " r
f . ydmght (mes. nor Leon - "
the medown is plate and signs 08  .. ’
day’s straits, la ng Dolores and er- fairw  
from the Rookery, to seize upon’and-devmrfl‘u ' 
scrap of news which he—totaliy ignorant dam ‘ .
is interest it had for themw—had read  w 
ew minutes before—metre of which we? have " _
heard a rumor the revious evening at  ‘7
John’s—that the mu cred gentleman,  .
St. Cyr, had fallen heir tea large tortuch ‘ ‘
him by an uncle who had died in    r’ '
The paper added that, by a. singular cama- — v
dance, uncle and nephew had died entire some 
day. It also remarked that nouear  ‘
mained, though, doubtless, as was nerally‘ifio » , z r
case, dozens would present them‘ 193 who " _ “
never before beenheard of. , ‘ ,  ‘r- r ‘  ‘
Dolores Leon had been made very ill 
C r’s death—Ibo the reason what it ‘ ht. .
I or friend’s visit had revived'her more 1 « '
; any medicine, and she had come down: ; *
3 breakfast this second do of it, for the 5M  ‘ ,
, she had left her room at :- bemg brought hm , '  ‘~
s from Sir John Crossley's. the evening or m ,4 ‘
‘ ball. And now that the great shock was over...‘ ‘
 there was more hfe'and hope about her 
‘ there had been since her father’s failure,  ‘ ' ‘
before. She was still e and, languid  
l what she had endured: ut her ex session“  r
i more natural and irlish. - Cicely aye, on “so .v
contrary, looked ‘ and haggard. Her cyst"  '
. were preternaturally bright; there weregbhekg
P shadows around them, and her young" . ..
f 8 str clean, waiting look like that of one who him "
' heard bed tidings and is momentarily expeefing 
worse. v I i  H " r.
The little breakfast—room wasone of a suite; ‘ y  
modest apartments which Softer Leon’had » r' '
ed. His oWn magnificent house and rename.
, had gone from him into the hands of modifiers.
: The outlook was pleasant enough; the table wrap.
I well-served. there were two or three servants  I v "
do the young lady’s bidding, yet there was a (30-7 , _
tel absence of the splendor which had f 1 ’ , .' ‘1
made the Leonesta lishment one of the
ilrli’imrnamdminew n " dDol  If:
‘ a'y.,sai .oresloo  . 
from the paper,.“that pope’s tailure'cwse  ‘ ’rfs
Cyr to betravhm true character in fime so t, ’ 
I never was ins wife except in name;  1‘ I
went 1n disguise, on my return  ‘ '  ~ ,
, to try to mun an interview with him   i
v r, .1' 1‘ I

I

 

   

 

It.

 

.3/ v
’ .
"f r, r

j'.’r \

r  a;

   

A at

'. falsity

the
, ‘ r ning‘the risk of being detected
lot es, and that prettv little mustache g nod to

'wearin boy’s

, my};0 r lip—my only-errand, as you know,
* was
'from the bonds I had enchained m lfwith.
You remember/that morningoicely ‘ ‘
~ ,“I have reason to remem r it,” was the sad
Vanswer. “That morning proved Sir Caryl’s
faith in me. He saw the meeting between us—
of course he mistook you for one of his own sex,
and demanded an a location in terms so

" 3 t I n‘gughty and insulting t at I refused to ve it.

, creature in the world is so

e e oi!“ ouren ment then an there.
 then,.so singular

{lhave all the circum-
stances been against me,

e is conVinced that no

, guilty as I.”

, .“rWhy do you not send or him, Cicely, and
have a com lete explanation? You can meet

‘ mark?" 1 ‘21; dimmfi “8 “lime” ‘°
,ev‘ pay ' my son e'sto
Mdthus entirely exculpate you. It makes 36

unha py. to know the suffering I have

_  you h.”

 , V' ,. harshly. “It is only 1 who suffer.

!
5

“He does not suffer!” cried Cicel , flimost

n 'to
3 blank—never! E_xplain, to a man who could be-
lieve me false, impure, ay, even a murderess!
 never! If he should get down on his
r’  to me now I neverwoul have anything

‘ won tohim. am of it, Doloresl—a girlen-

. to one man and meeting another by
«wealth! A murderous

! He has accused me of

I 1‘ » all this! No repentance on his rt can ever
~ .vblot'eutthosetatalfacts ” A p“

  what will he say?—
 ‘man‘! Allwho.
 deed which saw. one with my own eyes!
vuvi‘mdittobeym. .Otherwise

z, W v

I;   All we can do,-dear Dolores, is

‘m- ’ .
.. .  it will
.  {shall e

V “‘ And it is all m fault! Cicely, I cannot en-
due to think of it If you will not consent to
fan interview I,,at least, shall find a way to see
Md tell him the truth. » I shall beanth d'f

a .

> \‘ ' mess ingratitude if I do less than

“ listen to me, Dolores. Sir I has proved
that he is of a suspicious nature. to him,tell

' hfinthat on were St. Cyr’s wife—that you met
him on beach there, twimprpvghzizat to
3’ you
midfield him! ' That on are the guilty wo-
grr st'o  believe that
during, even I, who
was you who did t1}?

hear
on «are the one. fig,
you so th t.

, ' vuwoman, tall and slim, asxyou are. I be-
; should at once
*  hoine with the news and set people on
“half Wk. I kept silent, to shield you. By that

’  am now involved in suspicious cogpli-
re
and allow matters to take their
I am'openly accused and arrested
be time for you to come forward,
is you to do it. Otherwise keep



flashy not in ——do nothing! Dolores, who

 um Have done but deed?”

i
r

i

 imt

lectured into each ’other’s eyes a
of Dolores were the first to turn

3 ’0 ‘ ' '
’ ifiovl'dovvelniowl Hewasabadman. He
mayhem; injured other women more than he
 are Some girl may have avenged her
’ ' Or, as hewas a gambler, some man
been ruined by him, and inhis despe-

, a, I
But itwas a woman. I saw her.” i
 Sir Caryl once saw that I was a man

I ass.
,‘ so

-   you. This feminine attire may

r' film not that

m been a‘disguise. You say she was tall?”
 And tee slender for a man. Still—-—”

“Still, weknow nothing. about it, really. If

a. dear Cicely, seem to be

 maths ban, I s ould bethe happiest woman

“ 'I‘éiaitqinrortofiico! Well, someday soon

is: m world! I have not told you about

1331‘}

,  all”, _
i I  hope you maybe very happy, I am sure,”
5: said Cicely, but she said it a lit 6 drearily and

My. “I feel, Dolore that both of us are

I  standing over a mine whic, may be fired at any
‘ imprison” ‘

> g -.  really in danger?”

‘ 

Sahe‘grea. tdark eyes of the Spanish girl opened

with a look of fright: , ~

A, “San it be ssible that either of us is in any
. danger, icelyl How can innocent people

“ They'often are. There is plenty of circum-

i .  evidence against one or the other of us.

.2

 , leave been han ed on less.” , -
p d .l”-——every§3article of color died slow-

), .‘ 5 Yr 3“ H
  Dolores’s rich olive skin, leaving it the
  old ivory. “ How horrible l” I

'p g  whole room seemed to take up the ghost!

   and the.» can ladies, taking the
WM %3, y g I m '1

 

andecho andre—echoit. Asilence fo-
3 A ’ 'afterit. Theservantcamehrtoremove

A flfithithem Tweutrup tot
  

 

 

of Blifl’ -Cdstle—~,and you came, down on!
sands to meet me, and scolded‘me so for‘ run-

and entreat of him toi'ree me legally

 

w‘ .V;'v\,

Cicel ‘ was drawn a a strange fascination to
watch or friend.  0- had elt it cruel and
dreadful that harlo’ve‘r could have her
of a crime' yet she now watched Do con-
scious, in her own soul, that she, herself was
not entirely free from the suspicion that her
friend had led to her—that her own eyes had
not deceived her, and Dolores Leon had been
the one who crept up behind St. Cyr, throgfilh
tlhgdtumult of that summer storm, and shot

e .

Dolores did not perceive the turn her friend’s
thoughts had taken. She felt awed by the dan-

er mpending over them, and, like the weak,
. ependent creature she was, wanted to talk
about it and wring from the braver nature';as—
surance that they were safe. _

Then, unable to dwell long on a subject so

inful, she ut it aside and told Cicel about

rtin Mars all,'of Porto Rico, paint her
lover there with all the glowin colors 0 her
tro ical imagination. Poor Do ores! creature
of army and im ulse! incapable of the sublime
sacrifices of a no ler nature like Cicel ’sl—yet,
for that very reason, the more pet and in-
dulged b the stronger one.

010er tened ataently, though her ownslglr;
its were sunken eep in fear and sadness.
more sacrifice she made for this friend of hers,
the. xlnlore she loved hent b h _ , v

. ope you may ye e vs appy, ,
she said, in response to the othelgs fervid story.

Then Dolores’s thouggts came back to her pre-
sent danger, and she urst into tears and be-
wailed her fate, crying out that she knew there
was something terrible going to happen to her—-,
that she wished she knew the worst—wished she
had told her father all, but that she would never
dare to, and so forth and so on, until Cicely had
to soothe her and coax her into composure.

,If Dolores was weak she did not mean to be
ungrateful. It came into her little head, as they
sat crying and talking, that 'she‘ Would” not let
Cicely know, because Cicely wbuld forbid it,
but that she would see Sir Caryl, herself, and
confessto him, under romise of secrecy, her
clandestine marriageto t. ,andthose meet-
ing! on the , beach which , ad involved her

end. ,_ v

"‘I-Ie sure] will not think'I murdered my
own husban ! Alas! it is true I mm at 611'
village that morning! I will tell him so; but I
will any all knowledge of the shooting. I will
clear Cicel in his eyes. She shall not be the
victim of er devotion to me. I will find Sir
Caryl at Sir John Crossley’s. Very good!-—-I
owe Lucy a call. I will go there this very day.
I will see him, and make the opportunity to ask
him to call on me this evening.

Cicely, that afternoon, thought it strmge that
Dolores should go of! for two or three hours to
make visits, considering all the circumstances:

’ but shehdi‘d not say so, and the other kept her

own counsel. She was driven directly to Sir
John’s and found Lucy at home. .

“ I was so sorry that on wars taken ill the
night of my ball, Miss n. You do not look
well, now. Your first attempt to getouti—per-
haps you should not have tried; though I am
very glad to see on to-day, for we leave Lon-
don tolmorrow, or Switzerland." _

“ Does Sir Caryl o with you?”

“Yes,” and Lucy lashed verysweetly. “Do
you know? I am going to tel you a matter
which will soon be no secret, Can you guess it,
Miss Leon?” , ;

“ Not that you and Sir Caryl are engaged?”

“ Yes. I know I look happy—I can’t help it.”

I Dolores showed her sur rise.‘ ‘ '

“ Since when may I as i”

“ Since day before yesterday. I would not
speak of it to any one else I know as little as
you; but I have taken a fancy to you, Miss
Leon. I hope we shall become great friends on
in return to the city.”

no ’5 face was a perfect rose, so sweet and
bloom ng; her blue eggs shone like stars, her
dimples came and wen she was evidently very

hep . ‘

Tlrg sight of such happiness made Dolores se-
cretly indignant. She shortened her visit and
as soon as she was back in the carriage ordered
it to return to Victoria Terrace. Reaching
home, she flew up-stalrs to Cicely, who sat by
the window, sadly dreaming, but who‘rose' *‘on

seeing Dolores fly in, and looked at her questions ~

lngly. - .
‘ I _ r 'dear'darling,” Dolores siped,
windiizg or ,arms about her friend. g e, is
{shrirglactlgerounheartlesg} IHammond" loved
you aan, lselm equal-retell
with youcu  ofyoul Raise
" 'bsse,‘deceittui-+, udIthere!”"“ ~ ~
.f“mllthisanaboutll)oloresrl  
‘d‘VOEIwenfloealionfmyaCrweygonm,

 

  

 

pose to and see Sir Caryl~for I had‘re
solved w'lnizther‘you liked it or not, to explain
everythingto him l—and she camein, all smiles,
and he very first thing‘s‘he tells me its—that she
is engaged to him-40 Caryl!” v

“ Engaged! to Bh- Caryll’” ,

“Yes, my r, deceived, darling! She told
me so herself -—and they are oil to Switzerland
tomorrow to be gone a month. Oh, the
false—’! fiut Dolores t no further in her son
tence for the form of or friend drooped heavi-
ly in her arms, and she had to lay her back in
her chair and ring for her maid to bring water
and her vinai late—Cicely Faye had fainted. '

In the f onable intelligence, the next
morning, was the announcement that Sir J ohu
Crossley and daughter had left for a month on
the Continent; Sir Caryl Crossley’s and ,Lord
Hautboy’s names were on the same list; Senor
Leon read it out, at breakfast, and Miss Faye,
who was eating nothing, listened with set lips:
and a still face.

Captain Faye called to see his da hter that
day, and was surprised to learn that s is was as
anxious to return home as she had been to come
tothe city. Judging 1) her looks, he did not
think London air was eneflting her an 1 so
the next . day they returned to the R00 ry.
Ehecaptasn was glad to be back in his pleasant

ome. ‘

Yet he had not been in it many hours before
he was conscious of some great change. A
shadow lay over everything. Lad Graham
had been crying, and Was ale and istrau ht;

Faye wore a look 0 despair; Lord ra—
ham was nervous and abscnt-mindedwall of
them looked at their t, the pride of the house—
hold, sweet Cicely, w th a strained, anxious ex—

pression. ,
Poor girl! She read the meaning of the“

char}? in a. moment. _
. “ e have heard aomethin
name w th the murder,” she d to herself.

It was true. The dreadful scandal which had
been in every month in the county had reached
the Booker at last. Not one of his family
dared to to the captain what was the matter,
until, in sheer desperation, Loud Graham took
him out in the shrubbery and related the miser~
able story. A man had seen Miss Cicely stoo
ing over St. C ’s body the moment after 0
was shot—Miss 'cel had been out in the storm
and come in, hiding or wet clothin in a
whom 8i Caryl thigh“ Sh; his seen on

e _; r_ * ‘ on o enga

iss y  he had becou‘i:
aware that she met St. .Cyr on the sands, alone.-

This, and more, had been floating abc‘lut in the
air. until there was scarcely a pars
neighborhood who did not believe that Cicely
Faye was the murderess. The would take no
steps to arrest her, because s was Captain
Faye’s daughter, but they believed her guilty.
The London detective, would show no such
mercy when he got on the track; no one could
tell what hour the officers of the law might pea
over the threshold of the Rookery. .

This was a terrible story to pour in these: of
a man like CaptainFa‘ye. _ He listened in thun-
derstruck silence, an then marched into the
house and called for Cicely. *

connecting my

 

CHAPTERth
A rum COMPANIOR DU VOYAGE.

MARTIN Mans of Porto Rico, was en
route for England. , e sailed'from St. John in
the latter part of August, expectingto arrive
inLiverpool early in eptember. ' -, »

He had never beenyacross that blue ocean
which lapped the borders of his island-home,
thou h for two or three summershe had intend-

ed a rip to Europe. This year he had deter»! r- .,

mined to carr out his plan. There "was some—
thing which rew him with irresistible power
though he struggled long and manfully against
the terrible tem tation’. Martin was mild and
sensitive. Sono .a memhaut;princeo y hehad
twice the pride of a prince of the bloc »roval.
hen Dolores n,
had told him the story of her clandestine mar-
riage, he had breathed no further word of love
to her—he had given her up, entirely, forever. 
He had asked no correspondence on'her goin ,

away. The only news he had received'aboufi'

her, since her departure, was the casual men-
tion of her name in the busi’nem letters of Senor
Leon, sayingz)“ My dau liter is well and sends
her regards, ‘ our f y'”'or, “My daughter
remembe th  p eamre, {her visit to-

your fai and owe. . \ «
, Still, Emma he  giyen her up the in-
tense a

a

)

so see
‘ . ,Wmsmhhwngfigm

-" w» w 

oninthe‘

trembling and pallid, ,

never ’

 

m:  .

 

 

    
 

. V,
A ’

 

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 . A MW..— w...
,. ’ J r

, ,

, v‘ ’ , ‘

,\ ' ‘

I( ‘

 

 

m "

 ofldnhis 7 'atlashhewouldnotadmit '
tom  7  v .. WE,” mm“ m

nesumme‘ r to at
‘tllgfiideseahoi-imnwhs“ inmngffiarfuh
herahigV

, ‘ He would never ' a1girl who had imm-
Wheaties: ‘loreshaddone,evenwere
 free. He must be the first, the
out? o??? of adoration to some fond, pure
. lish Martini Why was he on the
. .. steamer Havana, flying as straight for
u gland’ gs thumbnaild for igbnortheinl heist!
an e 0 rev ‘spea on or
maxim” ya p '

There were but few cabin-
vana. Half a dozen woul coun them all.
courseaccrtain degree of intimacy was es-

tablished between them—such intimacy as
comes from constant companionship, from con-
Versation at table:{ from mutual interest in the
weather: but, w ch can bedisowned' at once
when share is touched. There were a coffee-
merchant and his wife foing over after their
tw0 daughters, at school 11 London. There was
a Yankee speculator, who made himself chatty
and am . There was a Cuban revolutionist
goin onamission to raise funds. And there
was Villamora!

Mrs. Villamora was a widow and had with
her an only child a sturdy boy, five years of
age. She was sti very yog—not more than
twenty-five. She was dres in deep mourn—

ing. She was fine-looking and had a willowy

Her (2 es were enerally taken for

b ; but in t e full su ight they were seen

' to be dell-liblue, with long black lashes and

, ewas one of those women in whose com-
yit is impossible to be without a full and
gerous consciousness that you are in the at-
m‘o?here of fascination surrounding, like an in-
. le halo, prett women of her temperament.
,She was lovely, ,anguid and passionate. Yet
she was very quiet in dress and manner. ' She
received the ordinary courtesies offered by
yogi? Marshall—web services as “ unprotected
6 .88
sadness.

rs on the

9) ' ' '
require on shipboard—with graceful
She made no attempts to prem the ac-

But he was drawn toward her with swift fas-

r' , The voyage would have been me-
notcnom‘ without Mrs. Villamora.

, Thai'days were: hot; but after sundown the

sea was delicious. Everybody remained on

deckaslateas A ible. It was general! mid-

night before e few passengers soughg their

Nome.
Martin and Mrs. Villamora had, every eve-
, hing, several hours of small-talk together. Of
'  the{ were not exclusive. The lady
chatted wit the other lady, with the Cuban
and the Yankee impartial y. She still had
enty of tithe for low-voiced dialogues with

e oung tleman. was so very te-
‘ ,Iul—Znot 'vely but intensely~whengr§dn

overboard or falling down the hatchwa
Martin wondered why she had no maid to ta
charge of the child and wait upon her—if she
ever needed the service of an attendant it must
be on shi board. She was not poor, for she
were ban me diamonds, occasionally, just to
showthat she had them. _. _ ‘
Martin became impressed with the idea that
.Mrs. Villamora had a history.
‘ And so she had.
A woman withers away unless she can have a
.eonfldant. Mrs. Villamora gradually felt 1m-
polled to be confidential with Martm Marshall.
That a la e part of the strange sto. she
whispered in is ear was a fabrication, .dl not
“make her confidence any the less touching and
inter-cede Martin found himself very much

 yit. .
, ay, more i—he found it had a vital—a tenable
interest for him! .
‘ widening circle of her story touched ugg
the personali _of others who were more to
than this fi ' widow was. _
As for rs. illamora, she admired Mr. 
, Knowin him wealthy and fastidious
 him handsome and agreeable. she would
have iked well one V h to get him in love With
her; bu at this cri cal period of her history,
'- she coul _ give but half her attention to themat-
,’ter, her mind being very deep! absorbed m
' some perilous matters awaiting t e exermse of
her" best talent as soon as she should reach Eng-
land. Meantime, s e Was not Wllllng‘ to res1gn
all chance of future cquamtance With the youn
{gentlemen and devoted all the were she h I
eft from the contemplation of or business, to
deepen the impression. she was ng on him.
Indeed, so much did she admire Martin that,
1 had it bamble "to her nature to love any
“331311191: liked to him scones her
we , ve   8.0 , 
p »  in England wet-flied so that it would
'a-bmissreethmhwhana , _. _ 



Marshall rescued her little boy from tumbling
.3

Ag... 1., 
7-, .‘l ~

"told him many thin

have fallen in love with him. , She ,

 

 

 

h when [the
id stmrvere-indolently v gin the

dying shades of violet, amet yet and
perfect darkness Mrs. Villamo wit
eyes raised steadily to the face 0 her listener,
about herself.

“ How lon did e think she had been a
widow?” “ edidnot know.” “Notsixweeks!”
“ Was it sol” “ Yes! but she had not lived with
her husband for four years previous to his death.
He was abed, cruel man, of dissi '
too fond of other ladies. He
heart the first two years of their man-i e. He
hated their child—~her lovel boy! on she
found it im 'ble to live _ th him he refused
to provide or her er the child—if she had not

(1 a little means of her own she would

ave had to work or beg. Oh, he had treated
her dreadfully! She had ceased to love him
long ago. His death was a relief to her. She had
no one and nothing to love but her darling little
Harley. Ah. but her life had been a miserable
failure! No father, no mother. no sister, no
brother no husband—only her precious, precious

darlin
“ Did he knowF—Villamora was not her real
name! That was a family name. Her married
name was St. Cyr: her husband’s name had been
Harley St. Cyr. Heavens! how startled Mr.
Marshall looked! Did he know St. C r, then?”
“ No Mr. Marshall did not know the rson—

.but—h’evhad heard of him. Some frien of his

bad just mentioned his name, once, and he re-
membered it because the name was not a com-

mon one. .
“ Was this—this Harley St.  dead 2”
“ Yes. Had he not heard of t e stran
which happened a few weeks a , on ew
coast of England, near Birkenhe i It had caus-
ed'a great deal of talk and ne per report,
she believed. Why, she had not card 0 her
husband’s death—being in New Orleans at the
time it happened—until two weeks ago! St.
Cyr’s death ad been sudden—and singular. He

thin

. was murdered l”

“ Murdered!” ‘

“Ay. How frightened Mr. Marshall looked!
Weill], effindidbepot tihink he had eager heard”of
sue a 3' one ea pearedso orrified.

'5 Who murdered hiszJ And what for?”

e young widow almost smiled; her eyes had
the iar ity of some animals’ ey ey
shone in the rk, at times.

“ What for? There was the mystery! It was
no thief who had met him in a lonely' place and
been tempted to do the deed forp under. He
had been deliberately shot, in the morning. as
he was walking alone on the sands near the

house of a friend. He had not been robbed. -

HOW could: she tell! Her theory was that St.

Cyr had come t6 that place by appointment and
had been killed bfiasome- " one woman: she
knew him so well t t this, her, appeared the

correct theory.”

Mrs. Viilamora did not g any further with
her story that night, for e reason that Mr.
Marshall arose an abruptly uitted her, pacing
up and down the deck with steps. She
did not know why the story mov him so deep-
ly—whether it was because he, had so tender an
interest in her, or whether he knew more of St.
(35;; than he had avoWed. . .

r. Marshall did not act hke himself the next
day. Had she shocked his sense of rogzietv
by appearing so. indifferent to her us nd’s
fate? She dld not know. He kept away from
her. and was grave and silent.

The next evening he sought an opportunity to
renew the conversation. He made no betrayal
of  own thoughts, but he encouraged her to

“I shall assume my hquand’s name on my
arrival in England,” she told him. “I am go-
ing”tbere  assert my legal rights in his proper-

“ I thought he was not wealthy.” '
“ He was not. ‘He lon ago scalliandered his
own patrimony. Curious y enou ' , on the day
of his death a very rich uncle of his in Australia
died, leaving him heir to to an immense proper—
ty. That. lgoperty is rightl 1118‘ child. 5. My
r little arley must not cheated out of
's rights. Of course, I come in for my wrdow‘s

thirds. But I wOuld do nothing—4would scorn
to touch a and of Harley St. Cyr’s money,
were it not

t my boy demanclzgustice at my
hands. My boy must he protec eflrst in his
good name, then in his property. I shall have
a world of trouble abouti ” ded the Widow,
with a heavy sigh. " ‘ ‘ "

“ madam!”

     

fiofiwfioe‘fia 'f steamed the
‘ or w _ r  weave; a ,
9 . . a W, a A! W!? gig,

snotmoentosnyaoe.

   

~up at

“any longer an 0

have such a cruel thought of the girl be levied! ' ‘

. or four da, ‘s—she should be gone, meantime, in »
. search of t at record—and he

-  he? were

 

6on clergyman of the,

 I

we tigers
M ve an marriage Q81“ . ,
tiflcate— will show itto you  'sev- 7

on years ago, come the twentieth of 'Setgtemhcr, ,
we were married in a little church in e sh "'
of Cresswell, on the south coast. The record of
that marriage is to be found in the books of that,
country church. The very first step I take, af—‘ ‘
tor landin ,before I allow any one to know who , _
lam, orw atlamabout, Will beto rcceedto, \
Oresswell and search for the recor . Armed
With a cop of that, which can at any dayhe
verified, I s all declaremy relation to St. Cyr . '
and do my best to obtain thepro rty for m self ., \
and boy. Ihave ve little in rest in e”—— ,. ‘
with a melancholy gh—“very little use for
money beyond just enough for the simplest
wants—but I am bound to protect my child. He
must be proved tohave a legitimate right to the
name of St. Cyr, and he must inherit the for— .,
tune which has fallen to him—J am determined?" " . "
upon it. No true mother could do less. Am I 
not ht in this, Mr. Marshall! Am I not bound ..
to fig t for my boy’s ri hts? His fatherwas
cruel and false to me; b my child shall reap,
good from his inheritance. Tell me ou’ap-'
prove of my p ' , Mr. Marshall. is is so  go
pleasant to have 9 advice of a man I respect. ‘ 1 f =

have been alone—alone—so long.” ,  '  '-
Shelllziirig a velvet hand on one of his and looked

With an appealing smile. Martin felt

sogy for her. He could guess what her life
to have been, wasted on a creature. likeiSt.
Cyr. Hetismcéerelly hoped Egg might gig: some , -’
compensa on or erpasts rin in "e good w 
fortune of her boy. g8, ’ ' ' ‘

I

“There 18 no one but must' approve ” 

purpose, and wish on success, madam "he an- -. 
swered, gently. “ do not see that  need v T ‘ f
anticipate an at difficulty. If S . Cyr left ‘ ' 'f.

ale timate c ' d, that child will be his hair.”
49 widow withdrew her hand with 4 
little sigh—this time of disappointment. belied ‘ 
hada great deal of once with men; and r. 
she saw that this one, t oughsympathetiawns ,3
thm‘ king of. other thm' gibesides the fasmnafin‘ . g
woman who claimed h pity.   ,
Seeing Martinso young and frank and  , ‘ ’

ciouashehad _ tomakeaneas .  “ 
ghisheart by tenlistingbissyw‘v;
t , his 

  

' 9
nor did she et despair, ' though she f .
mind was nost‘ under 11 ’ ‘ '

 

or control. ,
Perhaps, had Martin been disenng as. . ‘ .

all , ,
allin ‘ropin him in;’ as it was the? ',  4.
image of tha dark-eyed gir. whodovedhim.mgil 
mkresent between the widow’s I ' and. '
Hehadeno h to think of. Thatm  7
had deluded Leon into a clandest'me,.;m
riage was dead! That fact alone set. his  ,
to whirling madlly, Dolores was fracas. f 1‘ s:
No one, not even or father, knew of her " . roe!
tunate escapade. Doloreslovedkim! Weathers #4
beta do to their love?  biz/w"
theynot be happy? Could he not now eesil pf”
20 veand forget her lish foil 7 A ,.._ "
ere Martin 3 , and tri to s,  yr ..
wild thoughts. 0 had murdered . _‘ 
There musthavebeen a motive!» Who. 1  .
most _ werful motive! Who was temptedmyfi
love, ypassion by despair-—- _  ‘ I 
No, no, never! ow wicked he  

   
 
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
    
  
  

Yehitm'ht— , . ,_ ,
Oh thatt eendless voya were-overchdhe" ’ V
could fly to Dolores and loo down into kernel. ' ;
through those two clear mirrors of. her beauti~ "
ful eyes! He could tell if she were innocent b
one glance, and then—Pride to the winds! W. ‘
come love! welcome happiness! ‘ . y  r. ..
_ No. wonder, while his heart was torn. by such-.3.i
conflicting emotions, that Mrs. Yillamora'got ,_
small be! upon it. 5 t   4713-4“
h she was vexed with him; yet she did. not let" ’
of the w as 5

im 30.,

So the few remainin da
wore _on.slowly for bog}: 0 them lentil. ,, hd , '
came in sight. e lady gave him he  9 '
addresabeggmghim tocometoseeberirnthree 

 

,_{
o '1

romised-to 
her; the steamer reached her. oak, and the twp "
separated to go their different ways. ' e  J ' =5:

 

CHAPTER xrv. .    
. mmoson rsnsmcn. i .‘
Lm 0303mm enjoyed her v‘ t 
aneva and other beautiful xplaceslsimmitfia‘n .;:
she-had ever before enjoy ' '
had constantly at her elbow the human ‘
adored. He was elegant, admired”, 
velar, devoted to her contort, and a comma

new a , ,

[a

 

 

 

 

«.1

 

,. , H
‘ , I.-$thagfl1ewas?sglled.m ,
m." use eany am y, . ,
r  y Sometimesfi'e fear that heygvis not Jsatisfled
~ - ‘ . withhercios‘sed her mind, but sh
v,  , lit aWa . Why should he not be satisfie
, ‘ 1 her? he was fair, good
She would make him, ah, the lovingest, fondest
kind of a wife! . _

. Sir Caryl attended upon her as faithfully as a
servant as courteously as a knight. She scarce
ly felt the absence of a divine tenderness such

‘asa man uts mto every lightest word and ac«
on for he Woman he really loves. Perhaps
' *ucy had too much fondness and too little jud -

_ ment: "she dld not miss that better portion whic

was withheld from her.
I V Their party fre uentl encountered that of
.. Lord Hautbo 8. met they traveled in
 p , company or pped‘ at the same hotel. Lucy
  felt sorry for m lord who showed his disap-
‘ pointmen . He d taken a great fancy to the
' gold hair, the large blue ey‘es, pink cheeks, and
. _ arch little mouth whic were his ideal of
, feminine beauty. e would have been a kind,
. ’ devoted husband to pretty Lucy Crossley. But
' the did not realize she was makm a mistake.
 ‘ No! not even when Sir. Cary was all dis-
. ~ , traught, or glared at her fierce! ~as he did
, f ,‘ sometimes-7am if he were weary 0 her and out
«  f patience with her. She was bound to have
.-  V, be moon after which she cried, though that
L _  cigar, retiring globe should turn out to be only a
. I , l 9

f as for Sir 08.131, he knew well, two moments
1 , after he had spo en those fatal sentences in Sir
" » : John s drawin -room, that he had made a fear~
highlander. t would be not onl awkward but
cruel to; back out of it, and so he et the mistake
run on. It is not half the time that a young
( man or woman engages himself or herself to
. a-   out of pure love, such as ts prate of.
   could never marry the gir he had loved;

,\ not f might as well take 11 with his pretty cou-

sfil asanyvme. He felt e conscious merit of
doing an amiable thing by her, no matter what
  Yet he was often frightqu

. Ybored
gement-tired of Lucy, and, her cloy-

g-fb "bison
L ' @ver in “sweetness.

I ' was anx one to get back to England.
; .W-ithout acknowl ‘ , git tohimself,he wanted
It where-he coul hear all the no every
‘  v rumor, about that murder on the san a. He
 1  over it, ni ht and day. In a little less
agonth he ha Sir John back in London,
r where ey stopped a single day: then the three
. wanton, tospend another month at Cliff Cas-
 mxbefore proceedin to Sir John’s country
We, further north, or the October shooting.

2 “Eirflaryl told Lucy that he wanted her to see
‘ ashamed! which she was to become mistress
,, “Christin

Tgit alone was enough

with

‘1 y‘ ,

 

 

 

‘7 y ' 3 .
I.
,,

 
   
 
  
 
 
  
    
 
   
   
   
  
  
     
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
    
    
   

   

and to suggest such alterations or
, . much as she fancied~the old place had
 L a little change of furniture for a long
7  and was somewhat somber in the elegance
_;, ofjm  suits of rooms. ,

  ,Lucy blushed, smiled and was de-

, tend.
,_ 1“ And so, one bright September day, the three
r arrived at Clifi Castle.

"“  not seen the lace since she was a
.1 ' , a! seven; She like everything-«the old-
. ‘Wofied , ndeur of the bui dings, the cliffs
  mm ownfiprayjsalted gardve n, the sea.

'v ‘ " lalmOst shed she WOULd find fault with
 comet ‘u 1 but that was the last thing the hap-
 amia file 1 thought, of doing. ‘

, sin hat am day, the suit of chambers
 would like  up for her use when she be-
 Sir‘Caryl’s wife—a suit of three, 1 and
 with. long windows opening” on' conies
.  actually overhanging the cliff and look-
a  War the wide blue water. Caryl, how»

was. advised her to give these up for another
',looking out on the flower-gardens.

, “er11 will come here 11 winter, you know
5.3Lucy, and then the wind will be howling, an
blue waves green and storm .”

.  never, the girl submitted to his judg-

ham
 Yet even Lucy. sweet-tempered and easily
sin , was not pleased with Sir Caryl during
)  thanext few days.
‘ I waslostin gloom reveries. Researcer
 . the sands from mornin
hill _ : and, for all she knew, from night t‘
‘ ,_ ’ . inviting in some of the country
 ‘ n o . similar tastes to Sir John’s, he
'  $33,333) c bugwntit feelmg
 W e on ‘erse, '
 A'few ladies called upon
  the Rectory, and
 ‘ “thithetwogea' amen, atthe house
at   tthisl tter invi
 ., .   a r
‘   _M‘wemcusef0tdeclinhfiso they

 
 

. \

I

l
I
l

l
I

5 sided in oils
2 meet

l

 

e alwa s put i which he changed c’olo

. , V

“buoy was proud V as! her father; and, ah’nost
ashamed of Caryl, he eat so silent and stern.
A name was mentionedat last at the sound of

r. , ,
Lucy saw it, for her wistful blue eyes were on

.tempered and rich, 5 his face at the time.

“I thouo‘ht my old friend, Captain Faye, re-
part of the country. I hoped to
here to-day,” observed Sir John to a
lady he d taken in to dinner.

The lady, looking startled, answered, after a
little hesitation:

“ He does live in this n hborhood, Sir John.
llliis place, the Rookery, not a mile from

ere '

Then a bluff ntleman opposite interposed:

“ It‘s too b I too bad for Captain Faye!
it possible you haven’t heard, Sir John Q”

‘Haven t heard what?"
“ That his family is under a cloud.”
ir‘z’Under a cloud? I do not understand you,

s _ I .

“ You know about the murder, of course?”

“liar-10y St. Cyr’si Oh, yes; I knew

“ l’erha you knew that Captain Faye had a
“laughter, 's youngest, unmarried—a beautiful
if] ,9

“ Welll’h-the good baronet was fairly flushed

Minimdefih ' d 1 'trested, 1‘
may ros ey was eep y' in e use;

for she had marked a hundred ch 'ng emo—
tions fly over the face of the man she loved.

“Have you heard nothing of it?” continued
Sir John’s informant.

“Nothing.” I

All other conversation had ceased; everybody
was listening, for the topic was still one of ab
serbing fascination to the whole coun .
, “Well! it is the neral belief hat th8

Is.

St.

daughter Miss Cicely aye, is the person who
shot St. Cyr."
“God boss m soul! A young lady! Cap-

tain Faye’s-dau ter!”

“Yes. And, must admit, the proof against
her is damning.”

“ gas she been arrested?”

.“ o, sir. Respect for her family—~for the
captain‘s brave record—deters people from en»
tering a comglaint against her. But the feeling
against her overwhelming. No one goes to
the Rookery, no ys; nor does the family go
out, even to church.
ch“ They know the feeling against Miss Cicely,

en'l . _

"‘ Very, well. It is a strange affair—wary

“ y is the young lady the victim of so he-
rious a suspicion l” ‘ ‘

“Oh, there are many circumstances, Sir
John! Dave David a woodman, employed at
Cliff Castle,‘heard t e shot fired, and, reacbin
the scene about two minutes later, saw, wit
his own eyes, Miss Cicel bendin over the
body. She has explain to her other that
she saw a woman come around the rock, walk
up behind St. Cyr, and shoot him, before she
could cry out or stir. Now, I leave it to the
common-sense of this company,” went on the
gentleman, growing eloquent, ‘if MISS Faye,
were this story true, Would have gone home
taken off her wet, sand-dragglled arments—i
wasstormin that mornin -— id is ose telltale
garments, wet and so: ed, in a. trunk, and

no down and taken her seat at the breakfast—
able, and never said a word. about what she
had seen, to any one! She could not—she would
no; have done it, sir!” d pal h heard u

Gary W eran eras e a
this. It wasgltlaie t he had known about the
hidden garments, or the fact that a behef that
she was guilty had spread through the neigh-
borhood. 7

“ There are other corroborative circumstances
——-some of them seem to 've a claw to her mo-
tive,” added another of t e eats, glancin to~
ward Sir Caryl with a signi canoe which s ow-
ed him that his name, too, had been mixed up
with the scandal. . - ,

“ I can’t believe it, and I Will not believe it!”
cried the old baronet, sturdily. “It is cruel,
fearful! I shall call tomormw'moming on an
old friend, Captain Fe. 6. If his dau hter
guilt he will need my riendship, all t s more
-—-bu I cannot believe a oung, tender~
girl committed that m r.”

“ We have called at the Rookery. of course,”
spoked up two ‘pa‘trhree, “1311: we werjgctrgd ”

a mittance. l mpa wasre . '

The conversationpgom hattime on, until the

t
table  . 1 casing1m totthisgneinterestid , g;
to . « OSO‘WO ours
pic r M whamm’li‘édm'

 mme bolder menus.

M
.. x.
.‘x‘ ‘

  

 

_ lug st. cyr. There ms great as: crimp:-

pressed for
w “ No doubt
him dead.

her. \»
she had good reason for, shoot! _
If, some one or her so: hd ki
him years ago it would have saved many a
broken heart. We are all'awfullysorry forher
familé. Wh , sir, if it were proved in court that
Miss icely d the deed, she would be acquitted
allPthia1 sametlhhSi; Cg: was agicoetgidrgl.” ’
er a as ee g exp n w Cicely

had not 1been arrested. . y ‘

None the less she was a ruined girl. For the
first time Caryl felt a pity for her that was as
keen as the sharpestanguish. _
b He had despised~hated her. Now he pitted

er. ' ‘

Oh, that the intolerably dull festivities would
be over, so that he could be alone with his pain!

W'elli the were over at last. * There had
been a ong our in the drawirng-roomf—a. little
music. a dance or two, some idle chit-chaHnd
then he was beincr driven home, through the

ly moonlight, . ir John sleepy, Lucy silent

y his side.
Sir Caryl wrapped his betrothed carefull in
. her show 5; he was solicitous of her com ort;

but he could not talk to her. So the drive home
was a silent one, followed by Lucy’s immediate-
1y (going to her room and falling asleep in tears.

ary could not sleep. He walked about,
out-doors, nearly all night, throwing himself
down on a hall sofa to rest, when completely

,worn out.

A little after sunrise he was out again. His
feet took him, almost against his will, down the
smog) cliff-path onto the yellow sands.

T 9 morning Was calm; the sea scarcely sigh-
ed; the place was solitary._ He Wandered on
and on, until he found himself in Boilln’s Bow—
er where he flung himself down on the rock and
fa into one of his reveries. , . ,

Something moving about on the beach, after
a time, caught his e 9. There was a woman
walking there. ’He at his teeth together on
the fierce cry which tore its way upward
his heart. _ *

It was Cicely Faye, alone, dressed in, along,
loose white wrapper. Her little white feet
were bare; her dark hair rippled about her, no-
bound by comb or ribbon. Her face was as
white as her dress; its bloom and. softlyaround-
ed outlines were gone; her dark eyes had a
weird expression as they rowed over sea and

sk '. .

_ gills went down! close to the water and let the
incomin waves steal over her prett , bare feet,
and lung ed like a child as they di so. T1181!
she icked u a lon wreath of wet sea-weed
and wined i about s oulder and waist in a. fan-
tastic manner which at once called to the 0b-

server’s mind r Opflisha! ~ »
l the c d has gene mad!” mur-

I

“ Great
mured Caryl. V

A cold horror seized him in its ic 'po, as if
some monster of the deep clas ml with a

hundr. d slimy arms. ‘ He could not move. The

swoat stood on his forehead.

Cicely began to move about softly to a dam,
measure which she bummed, holding one end of
the rug ed wreath of sea-weed over her head.
Before be young man could break the spell of
horror 11 )on him some one else came in sight on
the beach. . - ‘

It was Captain Faye. He approached the runs
away quietly, as if afraid she might start to run
from him, coming up behind her and slipping
his arm about her waist:

“My poor darling!” ‘
She flung away her wreath, casting her arms
about his neck and looking up mournfully, her
“iiswgrtrfiiface on his bosol m— , I ,
n s a swee p ace, pa am
out here. There never waspgnybody killtla‘dpgg
this pretty beach, I know. There is no murder-
ed man on this beach, is there, pa ?” shudder-
ing. “ When Caryl said I mu cred him he
made a sad mistake. Look! I am a butterfly—
see me dance I” and she began to whirl about _
again in that sIOWfieful measure.

Captain Faye
blue s .

“‘G of Justice, let those who have destro
my darling, suder for one day the any t ey
have brought upon me and‘mine l” an then the

proud man, the hero on the field of battle, burst
into tears.

The tears and sobs of a strong man are ter—
rible to witness. Caryl turned away his head-
the curse seemed to fall on him. . 7

He had been an accuser, though a secret one.

‘l M oor chil I will not rest, day or night, .
until ' ' V9 , 9  innocence as clear as
sunlight. God will

mate . rave it "said
the captain,wheuho ‘ ’ controllcdhis

emotion. > _. . A  a...  
He then  cud tendenlf’d'rew Mg j.

4

his eyes to the pitlless ‘

5

  

 

  

 

‘ MW”... ....‘., A

 

/
y i

/ I!

r y

.2 sfterwardd

I" - l y c I
I  . ‘ fl . 

\

\_ 'l

vyfiwv 4“.va have ' , ~ - ,~ I. ). I. '  gr”.- .. -

_ V... ~,-‘:-. ,‘
A. ' . 

 ‘

1.: .  _. ' I ‘ _ ‘ h.“ “ 73’91'

 

 

glt Wes-sometimebefore Sir lhadstrength
to'crawl out from the Bower an - make his way
home. That scene on the beach had unmanned
him. He was fumed to believe in Cicely’s guilt,
'which seemed to him proven beyond a red-
venture. But he felt a passion of pity an love
for her. He th ht of that dear family at
the Rookery as if hey were of his own b ood.
mldisgrace and trouble was his disgrace and
' u e.

Yet he realized that they would scorn oven
tures made by him at this late day.

He entered his own house in e wretched mood.
Cicely’s pale strange face, he knew, would
haunt his so forever.

vision of bloom and health and beauty
floated down the d staircase toward him-
! vision of old air and blue eyes and a. fond
smile which was beginning to detest.

CHAPTER XV.
“DOUBLE, DOUBLE, TOIL AND 'rnousnn.”
Ides. mexosA—or, as she now st led her-
. self Mrs. Harley St. Cyr—carried on her in-
tention of visiting that rural church in which,
according to the story she told Mr. Martin, she
had been married seven years before. To her
dismay and grie she found that this very
church had been almost entirely destroyed by
fire the previous summer—indeed, by a stran e
coincidence, only about a fortnight before t.
’s sudden death.
his, as she declared to the clerk and curate,
was very, very unfortunate for her. Neither
of these two gentlemen was the same who had
officiated seVen ears ago, the clerk of that
period being d ,isnd the curate gone to pre-
side as rector over a church in Canada.
, She avowed to the new omcials her object in
coming; declared herselfto be the wife of the
"murdered mu; said she was living as a fev-
erness in New Orleans when she card 0 his
doe h; recited the tale of her husband’s pen
on _ in; her to keep their marri e a. secret, and
' ‘ git- and ends bye passibn-
altO. . or to tryaald remember if
a and  cfi'rli‘mnguam will;
snore . ' w on king over
books of the church. ’
Mr. Jennie , the clerk, assured her that he
had never h occasion. to go so far back in the
recordsr that he, was extremely sorry but the
fire had done its work more completely in the
little room where the records were he tthan
anywhere, elsee—that no books were so.
‘ I regret that I cannot be of service to

ates
h

' madam,” he said, politely, while his keen m

' not

.i

, ou hav
. _ Pfldadyourself on possessing! It mayhe that

Ibis ‘ M ,,
1 my. barbs-tau

ran over the handsome widow rather y.

“The at stake is in - is it now”
“ £173 353,000, Mr. Jedi” "
“May I call on 'you at your etc], this even-
hag, Mrs. St. Cyr ’ V
I'm going to return to London this after-
noon; but only too glad to wait until to-
morrow,"if you think you can afford me any as-

06.

“I do not" know. There were a few
Icorched and almost illegible, which I ound,
Where the wind had blewn them against the
,mvestones. I will go home and look those
over. I would like to see you a sin.”

:‘ Very well' I will wait, Mr. ennings.”
‘1 ml! call upon on, then, at the King’s
Arms, at six o’clock, . St. .”

Thank you, sincerely, Mr. ennings.”
conversation tool: place on the little
Porch over the. vestibule to the ruinous old
church, the main body of which had been rude-
ly remixed, the front and tower of the building
ving suffered much dams No one
board it but themselves, the curate having re~
J from the Emiw a few morgents bef'fmif.
elmings we e graceful gure o t e
, as she walked through the churchyard
[back the ancient village carry-all, which had
mggugther there. no sharp eyes blinked in
. “The handsomest «woman I’ve seen this many
was Mrs “  r...
. . e ma co
“fyloe tom, I migh f8; my share of it!
Ham’s e‘cbance ames Jennin , for the
1 “moles of some of that talent whic

, , ush unseen.’ I am
tiradofthisrm'al . Heregoesfora
Wider field. That woman is plu , sharp. will
notvstopate trifle. Thestek is immense.

'hspsshe was

 handover ms  and with may i
Vi her '

 

 ‘m-wmm

"Mr. .15 ’ " " was geochemi- one in
led ngs. [figs «3".th to Jilin.

 vnga good deal offisttention ,MmSt

.r’s claims, and he gavesit‘. For three hours
he kept himself apart from‘ others, while -his
forehead was contracted with thought.

Punctuelly at six he was admitted to the lit-
tle inn lor where the fair stranger awaited
him. ere was some reserve, at first,” about
either one betraying to the other some secrets
of their character and purposes; but before the
interview closed they had come to an excellent
understanding, and had together laid the
groundwork or a plan which, Mrs. St. Cyr
zeid, must secure her and her darling child jus~

ice. .

“I dote upon justice; and I feel it my privi-
lege as well as my duty to fi ht for the widow
and fetherl ” asseverated , r. Jennin

They shook ends on the platform at t 'e little
station the next morning, ting excellent
friends with mutual interes . Jennings .was
haunted b s. leasant memory of dark-blue
eyes with ong ashes a low voice, a. soft hand
and a quarter-of-a-million of money. Mrs. St.
Cyr, snugly ensconcod in her seat in a firstclass
carriage, as she whirled throth the pleasant
country, did a great deal of hard thinking, gild«
ed b occasional flashes of memory which re-
calle that charming companion of her voyage,
Mr._Marshall. ' - ‘

“ He promised to come to see me,” she mused,
with a smile. “1am not goingtc let the ac-
quaintance drop. I must consult him as to
what firm of solicitors to employ. _I Want keen,
unscrupulous men who will see me thro b—
that is. if oEposition" is made to my claims.
Very likely t ere will be no op ition. There
are no heirs; at least, I undersgzgfd none have
yet presented themselves. I may have no trou-

le at‘all: still, I must be prepared for all
things. I think I have done my work securely,
thus far. ” ‘ ,

For a moment her fair brow was knitted by
dark, gloom forebodinos; but she forced them
back, and w on the tra n rolled into Kensing-
ton Station and she. emerged from the carriage,
it was with a calm countenance '

A cab was in waiting to convey her to the
apartments she had engang in a respectable
hotel, and in the cob was her little son and the

maid she had engaged to take care of him and '

wait upon hersel .

She knew that she would be an object of
deepest interest to every man and woman in the
hotel, simply from her name.

The rumor that a Mrs. Harley St. Cyr had
appeared from a distant quarter of the world
and wasabout to set up her claim and that 0
his child to the fortune left to the murdered
man, was already flying wildly about London.

That nicht our lad devoted to sleep. She
wished to be fresh an fair for the visit she ex-
pected ' so she put away the weight of care she

carri about with her through the day, and
slegt as rofoundly as s. child.
ut, r. Marshall did not call upon her the

next dav, though she remained in all day, ex-
pecting him.

Martin, in fact, had forgotten all about her.
He was basking in the warm light of Dolores’s
beautiful 0 cs, as he had done the most of the
time since is arrival in London.

Dolores, one da , had been sitting at the
piano in their litt e reception—room, pale and
melancholy, brooding over that delicious visit
she had made to that sunny island lying far
away in its ring of blue watc . when she was
surprised by seeing her father re two hours
before she expected him, bringing with him a

visitor.
She looked u a little wearily' for she was .

not in the m for entertaining riends; but a
splendid sun of joy broke through the cloudy
night of her dark eyes, and a litt e cry of rap-
ture-burst from her red ll ; then, , ‘ g
the impulse to throw horse f into his arms, she
came quickly forward and took Martin’s out-
stretched hand. ,

Then, with A sigh, she withdrew it, and her
lon lashes fell over her too-eloquent eyes; and
the lush died on her check, for she recalled
what this men know of her history, and how he
had let her go without breathin another word
oflove after shehsdtold itto . _ ._

Martin, for his part, found the livin image
of the girl he loved even more beau-ti 111 than
hisreoo action of her. The wall of‘pride and
prudence which he had built up in his own de-

ense did not withstand, for (me hour, the bat-
tery of those bright eyes. Long before the
hour forgoing away, was ready to come to.

99 . .1 .
gm ammsmrm

, .

, . to
' breast for a. moment. ThenDolores  sway,

 

the

‘IV‘WI’, ‘4‘ 

mu splendor ofthe more {former/hter a: nu ,.
in: could not have added one ch ., tether  1
simple table; for Martin was in, love,  love ' {3.3
garnishes a dish more  
whim“? f‘three 1" red  ” ' ' I"
.eie‘ayo nge,,qver
the dessert lking of the visit to. Porto Bicep
Finally, the young pair retired to the  , . .
room, leaving Senor Leon to‘his “11050133! ad ‘ ‘
after-dinner nap. ' s .
“Dolores,” said Martin, eagerly, the moment .- - 3
the two were alone together, “I know whatha‘s . l ‘i

 

happened! I know you are free! Morse, my ,
own sweet love, there is nothinfil‘now tokeep us, ' '
apart! I can love you all I w Do $1; still; 
love me? I am answered by that look olores. - 'r
You love me l—and there is no barto the hisse‘ 
ing of that love. You will be ‘my wife some] , , 
day~and soon. Yes, darling, I will  ,  ‘
back over that wide sea until you are  7  
gowith me, my own sWeet wife! I have. » . g .39

'ven your chi dish folly. I do not blame you a _ l i3
or being led into a false step by a man insert- *
ful as the one you married. I thank God you .
arefree from him! Only assure me that new . ,'

cu ] we me with a women’s love, and I 

nt.” " ,v
“ I am sure, Martin, that what I feel for you , I 
is true, (batbless love.. I was flattered «b  y g;
Cyr—but you—yowl could followto  ts -  I,
readily as to joy! Whether you love me or not
-—whethcr. 1 am to be happ or miserable, Ilene,
you. You are m y heart’s c oiee~for this world
and the next.” '

They kissed each other, clinging breast

 

saying, sadly:

   
 
   
  
   
   
  
  

’ '  I “;\r

“I do not deserve this he iness. I am :1;  g:
ways thinking of St. Cyr. . . _ his home v 
tothink thatlreis dead! Iam tom    
desired his death. Yes even thong: lam», 
fienain I never  such a fate bean _ .’ _.
“Of course not—of course not,”~   '7, 
hastily uttered thesewords, '  ~  ' ‘

tain terrible thoughts and, suspicion  ,

come to him on board theship, whenhe  I

of that man’s. fa and had even to» - 

tothe door of this ones. These 

utterly gone, now- yet he had,  ,
“ Do you know,

     

ry you, or even tomarr .
murderer (ii-g 8t. Cyr—is d I    .
am an eve .  
ago; our clandefiii’ie  a,
If it mld come out, it will vital; ' , f v ~ '3
mete suspicion. And “Caesar’s wife,’  i ,' 35
ded, ’vgithasad smile, “ {must beehan  a
mom , . ' ;  
The warm flush died out of the  w’

8C0. . 'r .  ;
What Dolores anticiépated there 
reason to expect wou‘l happen. It wast  '
probable the a scandal which would  , 
whole situation even more deplorable ‘  ' , .
arise. If this womanvwho c ,  , 
the ship with him could prove that she will» -"'
first and 19 al wife of Harley St. 0  ~ ‘

  

story whic might get about, ing' of  ",
Leoii’ssecretmfixd-iagtztgbhim,   ‘
he eats oun e we 0, M.  a.
$851 tlge engine, should she be 1-1
It was true, Dolores had assured ' 
had never-been alone with her twitches. 7 ,
believed her. Would the world believe
Young, as Martin was, he realised that “the 3
world always gives credit to the  fidsot,’ .»
h“anaod’ ‘sak ‘a d urs 
or s on o  
nothing me ever r’esch the surface about. that 1 _
affair. Btil , if it does, I fie, you my werdof
hone},- I willstand by you, we men—forliove

out . . . I . 1
y She flung her arms about his neck,  ‘
c . ‘ ,  2,3]
“  not have you ruin yourself," she said." .

y. . , . .. . .

He thed and potted her until , _
calmed, then said: ' . . L , f
“I have astrange storyto tell vomDhIores. - _
You will be surprised, even more deeply  I'
was. Let us sit here by the fire. I hope  shall. u
have tune to tell you all before ymir tether  
comes in,  , ,1 I ,
“There was a lady r on the steamer. ' . 
that brought me over, who confided parted  ‘ _ . a,
his to me. She. is, I should  3‘, 
twenty—six. handsome, a Widow, with chew ';  I "

I

 
   
 
 
   

aboy of-five. It was she who told 
Cyr’s death. Then she confemed to,
she was his wife. She toldme. . ,
the 0f -
5119 Ward 9,! , ,

i‘. and  .

,

 
  

  
  

were married, down in
seven years .
tune an, to ’ {Cr

t! . 

,x/

’ 4

K: I 5.  , I; ,7. v, .V 
. ‘ “ I
‘ i

_,,-  ; _;~:.l .. . ..  .1 hrs... ..--......... ..... , ..... ".4. ‘ ‘
southeast her own and her child‘s claim to it.
It, seemsthat she was in the United States at‘the

0b .\

‘ l

w " M "2'1‘4nfi «VA-".2" "v

.  in a family“ in New Orleans. It Seems

« her'hu'sband misused her and soon abandoned

her. ,Now, dearest, Ihope she may be able to

r . revs herstoryand get her pr rty. If lucki~

; ,‘no portion of your acq , tanoe with St.

 i , . _ comes to the surface, all will go well. I

 ‘ , wand pray it may remain as if it had never
 n‘.

 

l

 773‘” timid “$2.315? ‘i’i‘fi‘fi‘ “‘8
 > r . e c u m y e an
., . v1  I,  at  with wide, wild eyes. :
" , . “‘I amsllthe tim dreading it,” she confessed.
y ; ’ . “I forgot it, almost, when you came; but I am
 {always thinkin and shuddering. Do you know?
-——I have some ng to confess to you! My dear
' wheel-friend, Ciee y Fa e—who was my confi-
dante through all—has been ted of the-
, ‘ . themurderl Isit not dreadful! or own lover,
h . ‘ , ‘the’gentleman to whom she was engaged, broke
 -' , with her, because she arranged an interwew be-
 : , tween St. Cyr and me. He saw her note, ask-
_  1 ‘ing him, St. Cyr, to meet her on the beach; and
51;»)? .’ ' she would not e lain, because she was too 10 -
’4,  al to me. Now e suspects her of the horrid
. " deed, and she Will not ss_ one word in self-de-
   She thou ht I dd it. Ah! is it not
. » _strange!--ten'ible I do not know what to do!
‘Tliey say that Cicely is suspected by many.
‘ Theonly way she can clear herself is by giving
_  world a full e lanation of m folly and
A ' mit,as confiscate. Ihave ept si ence
owed her to remain under this ban—and
1’, has been ill—bad brain-fever, or something,
, ‘ L ’ understand what; and I have been per-
fecntly be] less and wretched.”1d (1'11 1,
 ’4' artin ,n growingco an o ess.
- 'f " ‘-"-"This makesegba pe
, "mf’he said, drearily.
“ i“ kill it was so fearful to have to tell my fa-
“ ererything-v-to be arrested for murder
- , Jul 1. had not the courage. Truly, l
. than proclaimed everything weeks a o;

  

 

 

   

  
   
     
        

. V‘.\/

1;», )

   
   

* gthe real assassin would

, my detectives, and thus dear
v s  T  cleared. without compromising me.
We“! hesitated I learned that she was ill. and

.  . ,‘Woi’hermind; and I' know that her lover is
.’.- ‘ nowbetrotbedtoanother ounflzgyihButIu-fli

3 s f , until this new Mrs. St. Cyr says what she
f ’, 4 K ', to any. Meantime, I will speak to your fa-
I ;. {will see what can be done. Surely
 p , poor, innocent young ladyshall be freed
r y ‘ ‘ ' cion; even if you'- my darling, are
 , ' “ I hope, with you, that the detectives
 ferret out the realcriminal. Doubtless
V“ were dark episodes in the life of Harley
   Webs ‘ his fate.- Mean-
 -‘  Faye s ould be comforted—assured
; g ' t " ry shadow shall be removed from her.
. ion will" to see her, Dolores!" '
 . nly, as soon as her friends will allow
,.  ‘ ‘Ihave been there twice; butthe would not
V me to see her. If Cicely ould die I
   feel that I had murdered her. Oh, I
,  to told all at once! I never dream-
, :fidbf sac _ terrible uencesl And Cicely
  and would not explain to Sir Caryl,
  he had been ealous so soon; and" e
 undengaged self, out of spite, to
, .l yg‘ he dig iliot care flea—ande goes wrong,"
'. , cred, o 0 so n ; wrong, wron
,1 , ,_ If it wig: not for gen, Martin, I shoufd

 
  

-

 

. .> ’ v bedeadl I dowanttodo right-only I
 am ch a coward. If you will act forme I will
items? - ~

' ' CHAPTER XVI.

. , , ' humus AND noun. I
. Tam were dark da s at the Rookery.
 That summer whic had begun so sunnily

  ecri
  gable hight: on we. , the lace
, '  been—inwardly,that appy ome
"x‘; '.i V ' That dayewhen Captain Faye first heard that
 ,. . hisdaugh r was suspected, and called her to
I " .  ” tervie'w with him in the library, ended the
‘ ‘ ‘  (ifpleasure for the family. H
  lwhata stern, cold face was that the fa-

wther;  'his child. Cicely could not be-
.; g ‘ saw father'could look ather that

hfinni tram, ii ‘and
,. ‘Weegyes,   not
' demandr . e ' 

‘ 51"",  ‘9'  ‘ _


 

      
  

 

      

.II,

timeof the murder, filling the of gave.

d matter ten thousand times _

. ‘ _$fil‘l,tofiaa if: 331;): fine, i I’know
  ' on .‘ ' ca n now. ,
a,  Dolores. Wgagi‘ll wait a few

 

 

,\ s

  

.. ._-_.;.-.A._.....J.. .... - ..-, .

“ What is this I am told, Cicely!” . -

“Why do you speak to me so, papal What-
ever you have heard I am innocent. Do you
wish me to tell you about it, dear papa?”

“All—-—everyt min I Do not conceal the least
thing. Give me he facts—from the begin.

nm .”

“% was out on the beach the morning of the
murder. I was upon the clifl in a little grotto I
named Boiiin’s Bower. I have not been ha py
lately, dear ape, and have often gone on to
walk early, use I could not sleepl.1 I saw
Mr. St. Cyr come round the rock on e sands.
It began to storm, or was .stormin , and I
watched him, wonderin at his being ere, and
I saw a woman come be ind him—a rather tall,
slender woman, wrapped in a waterproof cloak.
I did not dream she was going to hurt him un-
til she stretched out her arm and fired. I
screamed, but it was too late.”

Here Cicely paused, put her hand to her fore-
head and seemed to be recalling the scene.

“ ou ran down to St. Cyr. and stood by him,
tryin to do something for him i”

“ es, pa The woman—3’ here she paused
again, con racted her brows, and Seemed to
think about it. _

“ Well ?——the woman—3’

Cicely stared at him vacantly. ’

“ I cannot remember,” she said, with a sigh.
" I put my wet clothes in a trunk. I was sure
that Dolores shot him; but she says she did not
do it. I think it strange—don’t you, a?”

“Think Dolores shot him? 0 18 olores?
Do on mean our school-friend, Miss Leon l”

“ am sure ora' suspects me, but, I tell you
it was the woman. Peo le look at mes‘o it hurts
me here,” pressing her nd to her heart. “ Sir
Caryll has such a jealous disposition. ”' ,

“ 'cely Faye, why, if you saw that murder,
gid ygu say nothing about it when you came

ome

.“ Papa, please do not be hard upon me. I
told Dolores, often and often, she ought not to
mar?y him secretly. I was not there. ’

“ icely, for God’s sake, look me in the eye 1”

She,sprun to his breast and patted his cheek:

“There, t ere, there! I knew you would be

true to me, papa.”

“True to you? Yes, yes, my poor darlin l
Tell me the whole stor , my pe Try to thing]:
just how it happened.’

He bent over her, full of awful solicitude.

She burst into a ringing laugh, and patted his
check again. i

“ Cicely, Cicely, what is the matter with you!”

“There is a mill-wheel turning in my poor
head, pa. It was put into it yesterday. I
wish ey would take it out again. It prevent!
my thinkino‘ or sleeping. I wil tell on all about
Dolores, w en the wheel stops. cannot re-
member it now.” '

Ayl the cruel conduct of Sir Caryl, the de-
nial of Dolores the strange looks of her friends,
the whis re 0 her own Family, had done their
work i-—t e captain saw that Cicely’s reason was
aflected. - ' .
Guilty or innocent, she was no longer bril-
li‘ant gifted Cicely Faye, the light, the glOry of
her father’s home, but .a r, mad crea ure
whose future was bligh , whose beautiful
eyes, so wistful, so piteous and fri htened, were
and to see. Captain Faye n aloud, and
wrung his hands. She look at him a moment,
then went and sat down b the window where
she seemed to lose herse in a long reverie.
When her father grew more calm he approach-
ed her, taking one of her little hot hands in his:

“ Does your head pain on still, my dear?”

She answered him on i with that troubled
glance. He could not get or to talk any more
at that time. She was as gentle as a dove; but
she had long fits of silence when she would not

s ak.
pg‘hat night the family physician staid long at
the Booker . He got Cice y to tell him about
the wheel t at turned in her head, giving her so
much trouble; he watched her motions the pe-
culiar expression of her eyes; he made her talk
about St. Cyr, the woman, her friend Dolores.
His opinion, given to the distressed parents, was
that Cicely’s madness was that of a mind OVer—
strained at one int—that, while it was not
hopeless, it woul need rest, quiet, long'rc e
and tender, wise watching. He romise, , at
their request, to keep her men condition a.
professional secret, and leaving medicine to
soothe the nervous excitement under which, she
labored, he went away. v
And so, the shadow over the Books came

and stayed. .That cruel fear that their 1
m' ht beerrestedgaveplaoetoa blessed ball

01‘, . . , Q
-of-ever:w¢wdg

[in ,. \

I

u‘_

wate carer  z<

,in er innocence and a tender loving ity which
stationed iii

 

' / “You‘aodm'entho  .

1
r , i n. -
,' ." ' _' ,‘nv -

' v

 

1
, ,
:

_.. .,.... .-

thowever wild ' or disconnected _  made
referenceto the murder snd,‘from these 
C ptain Faye was weaving an. animated thread,

a.
which, had Dolores Leon been'the assassin,

would have secured her arrest. ' Indeed, the cap-
tain had all prepared to make the accusation
against her—ur b the natural desire to free
his own daugh r’s me from the dark cloud
upon it—when he was brought to I. stand-still
and made to hesitate by the rumor which flew
abroad as soon as .Villa‘mora ann _ -
herself as Mrs. Harley St. Cyr.

Here was cause for deliberation.

The captain was shrewd, quick to add this to
that, keen to infer. The appearance of a de‘
sorted wife on the scene was quite enough to
areas: his caution and cause. him to wait, and
we ~ . .

Yet Ca tain Faye, from the broken sentences
which h been pieced to ther,.from‘ time to
time, as they came from ic'ely’s lips, had dis-
covered the secret marriage between St. Cyr
and Dolores Leon; had been to London and
hunted down the church in which the marriage
took place—copied the record—had convinced
himse that Dolores had met St. Cyr on the
beach—that Cicely was, their confidante—had
even proven the fact that Dolores had not been
at home in her father’s house in London, the
morning of the murder but had come home late
that afternoon, after eavin a train which
came in from ,th: west, and ad dressed for a
ball in great haste, at her father’s request.

All this the self-constituted detective had dis—
covered; and had felt certain he was on the
right track, until thestory' of the deserted wife
and child came to him, through the papers. ‘

At that news, he was disposed to want.

A father, who has a dear daughter’s
name at stake, has 9. might inducement to put
fogth his be? efforts iuviherI eiense. I we

aptain aewas gian,seep'ess, t
but never-tirih . He made frequent to
London—and 0: or places. ‘ 1. '
Not even his own family knew the object of
these visits. , - '

. Meantime, over at Clifl Castle there was
bustle and chafi. Before the C’rossleys left
for the October s poting on Sir John’s place,
there were men}; things or Caryl to attend to
at the castlie.‘ e had [gazing hmgvggmm

one an mprovemen w c to

under pressure, if com leted in time for his ‘rv
turn. with his bride at as.

If Lucy judged of his affection for her by the
money he was spendhg onagmfifdafions for her
recep ion as his wife en, V e every reason
to be content. Oaths other han if she ’
by his personal devotion to her, 8 e had every
reason to be dissatisfied. He never.made'love
to her. He was kind and courteous—no
beyond that. He sought no fiportuni to
whisper sweet nothings in moo corn ' he
made no delicious privacy for the two, in bay-
window, porch, or under cover of piano-play-

e did not even look 

Lucy was not over-sen ve. She had a calm,
sweet, loving temper, easily satisfied; but even
Lucy grew more and more conscious of his in
difference to he . Many a tear welled .into her
bluek eyes of which he, lost in brooding revenes,‘
too no note. . .

Atflrstshehadgonetohim asfreelyasa
child to its friend. , '

He was her own dear cousin, who was so
good as to allow her to love him all she pleased!

Love made more of a woman of the lovely
girl. She began to fear that her heart would
alwa. s ache if Caryl did not notice her more. ,
She onged for the little Vivid blisses and in-
terests of a happy engagement. She wished
that she had more pride so that she nnght show
her cousinthat she would not be sh hted. Yet
she was so afraid of losing him the she dared
not resent his indiflerence. ,

A stolen kiss, a pressure of the hand, a few
moments’ stolen chat sought for by him, would
have been more to her than the costly boudoir
he was building for her, the new velvet. carpets,
the wall paper from Moms’s, the onel Window
overhanging the sea. ,

After that morning when Caryl had seen
Cicely Faye come down to the beach, and 
learned that she was madhe grew worse and '
worse in his moods and his lost. r

Every da Lucy's fair, pmk cheeks were
flushed. with the traces of tears. Sir J ohn,
amused and en by the worming on.
looked after wmim dvghea? V noticed

thin wr a  . .  .
nfidghgnirigc’gscs>i:ri.etimes flashes and unites ontof '
a cloudless sky; sndsunny natures,  Luc

sometimes flesh cum and

I A i

‘ f

I

 

‘ 1‘00

 

 

    

 ' , ouneve'raskxnsto ’with  “I
home... .,.....,..r....e 
“l” onthe “j i

“f - es. Tothhxkhowsorry-you are that you
are going to ‘ me.” . _
_ They were ' up and down the drawing—
room after dinner, ir ’ John not having aban—
doned the Madeira and cigars. I
Caryl looked down into the lovely girl-taco in
some

“ Why do say that, Lucy!”

“Because t is true,"—-burstin into tears.

“ I hope you are not going toie one of those
peevlsh, teasin women, Lucy! I thought you
Were sweet an amiable—J
.» “ And a tool 1” added she bitterly.

“ Come,” said he, a little im
on have some music," and he ed her to
plane and seated her. ‘

. It was the same as gay-in that he preferred
her singing to talkin th er. She had hoped
secretly that he won d coax her, apologize, even
make a little love to her. but he had only hold—
ly turned her'over to the piano to get rid of
her. . As soon as she could control her-voice, she
began, very Sweetly and tremulously, one of
his favorite songs while he paced up and down
not far away; but she knew she knew, she said
to herself passionately, that h
of her or her singing
It was not a cheerful look-out upon their fu-
ture. v

e was not thinking

\ » m

CHAPTER 
my annow mrnn mm emu POISON.

THOSE morni rambles of Sir l’s on the
beach were not soontinued, nor di he invite
his betrothed to share them.

It was the last week of their stay at Clifl’
Castlezr'them'st of October was to see them on
their wav to Sir John’s country-place.

Wh _ he walk on the sea~sh0re morning
after snoring, and evening after evening?
Caryl had ed himself he could motor wduld
not have answered. ltd: a way we have of

 ourselves to what we might see plain- ,

’ l enough it we onl / .
ylit was the faint  or again meeting
that fair mad maiden which drew the oun
 the place where he had last gehelg
her. Caryl’e feelings, in that hour had under-
gae a domplete revulsion toward the 'rl he
' d loved, and loving, had condemned. e no
{225% y ‘ gflioely Faye. He pitied herwith
' ‘ unutteruhle' ' ' and to himself
* » “Gorillas ' '
quotry‘ '. I isletttomom it her.”
He was  aware! that lug {Zeling went much

 that. He'knew that he repented, more

and mm,every- * that he had rashl ‘eld-
ed to thetemptationyto let his cousin 103'; him.

, no r promised himself that he would
be nnnlere.~ y hap y with blue-eyed Lucy.
Her company was geooming irksome to him.

: Yet, like a weak, hesitating coward—and Caryl ,

not weak generally—he allowed the prepa-
‘ rations for the wedding to go ou~ey, even he
verishly hurried them. . '

The engagement was public «to the whole
Meant-y one knew why Cliff Castle was
, being refurnished; Lucy was daily receiving
congratulations. It was in: 'ble, Caryl sai
over and over to himself, as lay . tone on the

' k at Boflin’s Bower, that he (1 break off

now. Lucy was very, very fond of him. Her

triends would justl resent such trifling con—
omcfin hi h creep

, _ ‘ w c was mg

' Moll}: heart. ‘ a

 "What! dislike a woman so beautiful, pure,
amiable, affectionate, as Lucy Crowley!

“Ido not like her half so well aswhen she
was only my cousin. I would to you Lord
Rautboys had herl They say he is quite disa
consulate—does not rally from the disappoint-
ment. He is just the man for Imcyl—v-worships
the ground her foot touches l” * * '

‘Caryl had fine, changeful eyes. They were

eethue, like the see under the gray sky, as he

.gi'aszedvsolemnly across the watery waste. As
thoughts reverted to one who was never for
a moment, really out of them, they grew dark

and; troubled; youwould have, said then they.

were bled: eyes;

, 'I could hardl describe the change which a
«knowled of ly‘s madness had worked in
him. It ad  nomeamconvineed him of he!‘
innocence.  the other hand, it  deepen-
ed hm cmvietion of   ‘ {twee in strange,
_ j I hethmghtfiatjher  abound have given
\ Y" - ‘2‘ remorseand

pressureot

tearful
‘ 4 ‘ ltwasgherfit is   ‘ '  

 

Nation mm..- are w  “a  ’ borrow _ ’ . Nownow mines" 
mfiymbe ,  ‘h  ' ‘ m «hiemagligd'tlthe‘ »   ‘ _
’ ’ 'weleome.,_

tiently "let _
' the r

r ’i . .
ed garter her deceit and or» accmed . .
‘ ‘ “Then do not call mev'your darling a n,",

twaehisd tostru gle
1m W 8.

 

 

“xf

e. _ r :do-F , , , ‘a
Rookery; but he  ewthathewould n the a
est there; reigning
North, 30 113 a gay party, huntiu , ing,
makin merry and marrying w  nothing;
but distress hung over the _ ery,seemed to
He loved gentle Mrs. Fa unmother; retty
Lad Graham as a sister-{awhile his hear}; bled
for t e proud-spirited captain. Yet he had cut
himselfofl from showing them 'h-iendshir-he

had been first to condemn.

that a
St.

I him unbearable.

He had heard, with passing wonder
wife and child had come forward to c r
Cyrjlshinheritanoe-ia f Ci 1 ‘ ‘

e cause r o ce a trouble with
him,” he thou’ggg. ps’ y

The red. of the sunrise was yet I in the
a , p ling clouds and the ay ripp ' g sea

gr ri
as my lay there with a. hot row and a tire
heart. He had promised, himseltan easy re
covery from the wound of loving that which
had provod unworthy; golf, every dayiohe was
alman more fatally il ., e arrow of ye had
been tipped with an incurable poison. '

The consciousness that this was so grew slowly

pen 1m. ‘
V “ Cicely, Cicely, Cicely!" burst from him,
with a great cry. v
That instant, as it his passionate summons had
raised her from the un Cicely’s slight figure
up toilin up he pat .to the Bower.
arylroseto £eet,starmgatherasifshe

werea irit. a

.Shedi not up alarmedatthe sightot him,
but aused an looked at him solemnly. He
saw hat her poor little feet were here, and
bleeding irom contact with the, sharp rook. He

could have wept over them and  them, it

was sopltiful to see them, in thtegr rose—lent soft-'-

n wounded by the harsh She had evi~
dent y escaped as before, in her nigh ,
choosing the eep repose of morning to
from her chamber down to the mumuring,
“3‘ fling sea“: ’ darli ” '
oe , my ave, my ngl

Caryl he not know what he was so. nor
that he was holding out his hands to hegfggith a
quivering smile, his pale face growing more

“ Are you Sir Caryl she asked 

3”
shrinking back a 11mm, Wotan eyes

searching his face.

He bowed his head in assent. For once he was

ashamed that he was the man he was; for there
was something in that soft, troubled glance which
him of a cruel injustice

she said, with gentle digni . -' “I though that
I was your dear love once, ir Caryl-long, 1011
age, long ago~butYyou broke in heart, on
poor papa’s heart. . on said false {hinge about
me;- ou placed this mill—wheel... in my, head
wine keeps turning, night and day,so thatl
nleveil‘ slog? nov'gafinld annot  of things
0 car y.» on ov me Cary would on
have donet at? No, no 1101" .’ y
{3119 shook herhead, 100 at him reproach-
y

A hitter W was the stron man‘s answer.
She pressed her two littlehgndstohertom-
pies, and faintly smiled: ‘ .

Alum so . l” ,
“ My ‘ , yes Sony enough! But
not do right, Cicely! You know you di not do
right! , saw the note inwhioh you asked St.
Cyr to meet you on the sands!” r

“ Dolores wanted me to ask him. She said
she‘would be there, and she wanted to soc him
so much. Shewas married to him you see."

“Dolores wanted to see him x Tell me all about
ityClcely ’wair Caryl’e pulso throbbed heavily,
his e as glittered eagerly; but Cicely pres‘sedher
han s more tightlyto her temples, and hersmile
grew vague. . *

“ Tell me more about-it.” « ‘

“, I will, when my head is quiet. ' It pains me
and the wheel goes round. so fast. I should
sit here awhile and look at the see, it would get

on did

better. It always does my headgod to look at
thesea. Papahas promised to f egme a long

voyage very soon now. He is just, waiting to
find out about this new Mrs.  For mg pm,
I cannot believe she was his wife—dot o ores
weehiswifalknow.”  v I , V
She  herself quite near him and sat per~
fectly‘still gazing oddreamflyat thewide,guiet
Caryl was.  she would take cold; yetlhe
0011141 not, atyoneedisturb hemmewhok ’

 
    

‘ toward barges—the, melon. ‘
gogémbleinitsremmmdyzwhn: 'p .

    

 

ro'ecnnfi‘ ohfl
. gavel-her 'ttu-lnghoart.

'sideCarélt': 
That eel Faye

'ed this Person as being the one. She,‘

, as herself!

‘ruahu
Ah!

m thereto €11, '

into eermmmsmmy. «he 

 

,f‘

   

’ ’ v i * : 2.1 .

mad
wee
19

‘   . 
thetilnil as hewutched the '\
mmhgéakéuymnemne _ 

Perhaps, when  .gwastrled,’ she,
WouldbereMredtoreeson. _. armade \ I
very quiet and harmless. , . .  is. ' :.

Sir Caryl, dumb with an 4 h, watched file " 3*:
young, worn, lovely face,  eeling thatch he“, 

_ ,even his life, would he give to.  t ,

 Fay? restored to her proper sell, He I ,7."
wool rat er to her, ' _  , 3' other ,  -
woman in the wor d, sane. e would gladly ' 4 ;'
give his time tothe careot her. .WM.WM& ‘ , ; '
cent or guilty! It no longer  :3
loved her , , ~ > v g ,

It was a strange scene tor Lucy Crossle  to ‘ , 
comenponalnd Lucy lliad aegalgened early ,1 ,. .,
mormn was ymg kinking, . over ,  
cousin’sgbehavior—~frettin at the  ; I. '5
of hisindiflerenee—when eheard  
$51 her door and, a. moment later,  ,- '1'

“Holmes geneto the beach,” she cried; er"  .1

and
waves.

door softly open and close. ‘

am oing,  Iwill meet him there}; y he
will him alllthink aboutour affairs; will , *

I _
offertorefiasehim from this engagement,  j y 
heris already so tired of. Ionnnotrendure j ,l' 4,,
I am neitherachild or an (idiot. He  not  
mgr? mm m” t  quick) " am / L 
. e rung on o A _, ' .  ? 
hemelfsgvithout awakening her  ' 
this omer§$ncy she selected a blue: W31  ~ ‘
dremwhic was particularlybeeomiag  ”~
and looked at herself in the glass  ,w r 
put on her wide-brlmmed en~hut. , ’   ,
Her eyes were very bri t,,her cheekgfluified ’ .5;
with teeling; her beautiful gold hair, . _ ;y  ,
braided,hu down her back. “Inseam, A I. 
,I cannot 33m him love me!”  ‘
she turned from'the image or her own 
loveliness. = i 
, Lucy, followin her betrothed withaaudo  . ;
den boldness tow _ only resentment  H
have driven her I '  
renewed on until,” the ,m hythe

 ;, ~14 r  3.x,  , 7 ’ 2 

Theautumnwindshad ,rn  v  

time, and she plainly saw her   .i 
staringwitheeger devouring manta); 

mem’ladi loosawhlte "lulu: ‘
Egg horn...   a

 

  
   
   
 

 

hastily , , , s  A 
   
When In, had regained: _ the 
63,8110  '

to mess  {

bHethm   1 bed.  
rea « 1' 
mos.i misery. disarm,  

 

    

not known to

    
       
    
   
      
   
   
   
 
 
 
 

her‘familyhad/ n, ' .
priseda  there  no  ‘
Neither ch Meyknow that Miss 

in out: lad withwhomhercounn’ '  ;'
11,335 . «gleam. ehahadmvar _.

 r

MissFayeaseneot”'

  
   

heard 0
the murdamd St. Cyr,'and that“
it ssible she was _ u __ ¢ ' s
he did not dream, eithermho the we-
man was by Caryl s side; but she no.1, 
wondered at his frequent and early violate ‘ .,
beach, and his refusalto take her with   >
In that one astonished,  gate she

became aware that the l was 
as young as herself-end  bountiful , 'r

Poor Lucy hadneverbeiomrealised  :
fearful passions’iahabited her own   
It was unladylike to be too much in earnest. :
Yet, there, she stood, the rage of ten  
ensemgsseennnnn use“
w w: e . , , ,_ V .»

n and asset y herehame lee   7  
veisatigeraswellasadevel 3;”;  g
*, "aim? 

one moment she felt that, 

 

Mamba“

  

     

 

I," ’ ' 4-x...”
l i.

 _‘ inkintothehouse awesomeness-apt?
 ,, ‘ intoherroomand flung herself face down, onI
' ‘ her“  There her maid, coming in half an}
9. V‘ ,, . hour later, tound her, with red eyes and a white

';"""V him. . ‘,
 '.“I ot'u our audit ve me sucha head- 1
ache, Ifshall uognbe able to go down ,

. I. .to breakfast Ilmow.” '
 :'_ ’ So the maid darkened the room and reported,
:  x ‘at breakfast, that Miss Crossley was ill with a
, ~ j , AWE; and Sir John sent his love and Cary]
' ,. 'arbouquet or rare , from the hot-houses
’w’hich roses wentup to ucy with her tea and »

, . toast. . _ g
'  She burst into tears again when Ninette told l
- ‘ ' her who they came from; then explained that ,
K -. she cried because she was nervous. I ‘
l’ - 1‘ Lucy kepther bed until within an hour of;
,.   She Was trying to decide what to do ~
 ,i‘ ' ‘ before she faced her cousin flgln. She finally
‘“ j , flmdedded to tell Caryl w t she had seen——
.v  b ' of! the on men at once, and thenask
" ., Mmhertotake rawa somewhere.
', . ‘V‘I o ht to see Cary before hmcheon. I
--  no , indeed, to sit at his table or taste his
,, v9, , again,” she 8i had, trying to be heroic.
“ f > She rung fer inette, dressed as speedily as
; : vpomible, and went down to the drawing-room
*  On the way she met a

mmgferdispa consult her about the
walls the room that was to be their room at.
_  ‘ - what color would she choose
 be the prevailing

. » r “Oh; Igdo not care!’ cried the poor girl, in,-
I  v'o ' y wringing her hands. “You must
f I ask .Car-yl. I w' not decide,” and [she lrurv

 ,riedon.
 , . {use  not taken three paces down the draw-
. ; ,ingsroinn when her cousin came to meet her.
I "  took her cold bands, which she feeny at-
,  withdraw, as 'ng, ntly:
i'  1‘. on are ill, indeed, ear ucy. There are
A (1, ep shadowy about your eyes, and I never saw
. cyst. e; , z ‘
, »  all her strength, she lifted her re~
... ‘  ‘ eyeetehis: but,assoonasshemethis
. ‘ ’ " ‘ce,-and the music oi his voice melted
-_  ear, the feeling that she hadto quar-
relwith  and art from him forever-became
8."

5.1m 'e an or ustrcsentment
.  be g "j ’

 

 
  
    
  
  
  
    
   
   
  
  

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’ nee, from: fore one look of those

. , veil ey‘es ‘

9;" *1 cannot give you ups—though I know I

she subbed, and flungher white arms
1

   
     
  
  
 
     
    
   
   
  
 
 
    
    
  
  
    
 
     

' mmfii to ' L r' I
l r . on on re me u , '
‘  ayword  say. ghe my clung
,' '\ him, likes sweet ink rose about a trellis,
‘ ini'ace dewed tears, until he led her
beside her, wiped her velvet cheeks
kerchief, and made courtesy seem so
 " t, ad 1 aimed?“ 111211;:ng
 2mm ;a am ' arse e
(lithe early morning was but a dream.

 7   WEB XVIII.
g  mmmumnmmr.

' Fm his daughter’s disjointed rattle Cap-
 e’s 1 ions had all been ed on her
-‘ .-  7. loreineOn. Eehadheenab‘out
 yto London With the purpose or
 ores and making her confess her inti-
 ‘ St. and her visit to the beach
 I a: murder. igloafllgyirh means oi
' I . G DGVBT-Geas 1100 ED
 mmmg’didazm mméihalhfi Mmgdhgy
’ ' f ‘ mo an e-
the 9-0’clOck train, who cogld be no

. ,n‘, ,

 
 

 

The Misuse had dds 1 red 1; u.
I - y, an n appea a e
 on fooa‘fromyover the moors-
 she j been closelyvailed, seemed hurried an

_  and had taken a ticket for London.

I “ were many other facts which Captain
Fayehad hold of, Amen these was one of
f great importance. He had n in confidential
~ communication with an old fishermen, who had
'" a cottage or hut, built out of driftwood and the
wreck otships, a little further down the beach,
1 about), midway between the villa and the
 Rookery. He had paid the old tel ow to keep
i silence until such time as he should summon him

"as ‘ ess.
@mwmmlu “tress °*
‘m, r v on n nee
 .  had come in at seven for his
 v has juststartedhisflrehnd ut
hen, ng out his little win cw
' ‘ gagging, he saw a 6 gen-
’ ,c on swingm scene,»
_ p a way g’um snuggle”. Re
. "f it L (absence the may“ the
‘ WOW” We no humus...me
1 ‘usvurfsonedmamdvm mm at of teon

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.ai \>- ..  -' _- ‘ ,»‘~r".». . -w " f. ' 3" " ,fl. ~,. ,. ", manor' 

   

w

draw and looking again out  window ' sow ,
a lady coming along, the. some ipath. ‘I‘hat

struck him as being rather odd, .bein so

early: so he went to the front window, w
the curtain aside, ust a crack, and pee , d out.
He had a good 100 at her as she went y. Sue
was a handsome woman, tall and slim, dressed

; {ubllack with a thick vail, whiCh she had drawn
- lac .

fie thought she might be twenty-eight
or thirty years old. She looked savage. She
did not seem to be out on an pleasant errand.
She was frowning in a blue we. , and biting
her lips. She went by, stealthy-Ii e, withlon ,
soft steps. He thought she would get a we

ting. It had threatened, all the morning, to
storm; and at that time the thunder was break-

ing overhead and the wind blowing enough to

ca '20 her. Shelled not got around the turn
be ore it be an to pour. It was none 0’ his
business, an ‘ he took his breakfast. Lord! how
the wind howled for a few minutes! He was
'ust drainin his third and last cup when some-
dy push o n the door and came in, drip.
pit}? wet-and tightened like. .It was the lad !.
e would-know her among a thousand. S e
asked him, would he take her in his boat across
the cove, to the VI! re beyond Cliff village,
Bunegate. She WOIJJt pay him three prices.

'He said he would as soon as the wind run down

a little. ‘ She said it was running down already
-—it was only a summer stom—-and she wasn t
the least afraid. “ I'm in a frightful hurry,"
she said: “ I want to get the ten—o’clock steamer
that touches there. I must get it 1” and she shook
at him a Eurse full of gold.

I “She urried me; every move I made, until
we ushed oil, the sail of my little craft all set,
an we flying: through the foam like as if the

Vil‘were a tor Ins—which, no doubt, he were.
S a sat there, holding on, and never screamed,
even when the water went clean over the boat.
She was a plucky one! 7

‘When we was well oil from the shore she
asked me, ‘could I keep» a secret? I said I
could. if it were worth my while. ‘

“ ‘Well,’ said she, ‘ vae just shot a man. I’m
a murderess. You will hear of it when you 0
back. _But don’t you think ill of me, for e
richly deserved it. He’s ruined men and we-
men eno, h to fill a church,’ says she. ‘I’ve
done a deed in putting an end to his ce-
reer. ow swear, says she, ‘never to teilof
this meeting with me or anything youknow
about me—swear it, by the Holy Ghost, and
I’ll give you a hundred pounds in gold:’ ‘ Sup-
posing I don’t swear? says I. ‘ You must,’ says
she and she whipped a pistol out of her pocket
and told me I’d be a dead man in less‘n a min-
ute, unless I swore, by the H01 Ghost not to
ever sagas word about her, or at on i knew
it ~ ht a ut the murder. And so I was. took at
a sadvan and had to swear. When she
made the cat as bindin as she could I had to
say it over after her, an _ then she gave me the
hun pound, sure enou h. I can show you
the mono , Ca tain Faye, the till of to chest.
I landed era the nay, of Bunegate, n time
for the steamer; and wouldn’t break my oath
for anything else in the world but your poor

.r, captain. It shows how careful a lerson
ought to berabout promisin’. How could fore-
see that Miss CiCely would“ be accused 0’ that
murder, done b that stran re woman? When I
heord of that, prayed to let oil from m
oath and I believe the good Lord let me o ;
and l told you—~and I’ll swear tothat woman in
:ny cpurt; for I never can forget the look or her

ace. .

'I‘here was a per-[plain contradiction in the
evidence- inasmuc as t e murderess went by
boat to hunega ,while the other dark, slim,
tall lady took the train. The captain had to
make n his mind, that Miss Leon had gone to
Bunega e, and that there was nothing suspicious
about the other lady. He requested the old.
fisherman to keep quiet and say notbin to any
one save himself. while he continued 155 secret
search into the crime.

Affairs had arrived at this stage when the ru-
mor came from London that a uiije had put in
her claims to St. Cyr’s estate. Instantly, a new
suspicion flashed into Captain Faye’s m d. He
resolved to be more cautious and vigilant than
ever. A wife! That might mean much. But
this lady had been in the United States at the
time the murder was committed. Had she been
in, the United States at. that time? He would
see. The vital interest which he had in the case
«the wertul impulse to clear his dear child’s
name A basest simmer-“made Captain Faye
a detective whom the guilty, ,whoever she was,

, «unanimous weeks since» the advent or»
and  of herrchild to the St. Cy); property.
' ‘ WW».  .

f." pl I.” l \ .  "y ‘ 1 ’ I ' , . . .
. / .\
r ,. , ‘ i

\

 

'hlanch at the mention of

throttling up other claims. .

 

.'I

L

Captain Fa  had . waited until everything
should be so well to going. Hemnow ready
to fit: to London. , ~ .
‘ , e twenty-fourth 01-September was the day v
be expected to leave the Rookery. . .

0n the afternoon of the twenty-third {this
Leon came there from London and 81: need»
him with a visit. Her father was not wit her;
she appeared much agitated; while the very
sight 0 her, coming to him in suchevident em-
barrassment, threw Captain Faye intoa tremor
of anticipation.

Dolores asked to see him alone.
d He took her into the library and locked the

oors. .

He was as much agitated as she was. He ex».
pected nothing but that her conscience had
urged her to come and confess her crime to 
And so she did! On her knees, aling and flush-
ing, weeping and trembling, olores ,poured
forth the sto of her;wrong~doing. But, it was
not the story e had expected. - It was only the
story of a school-girl’s foolish romance and se-
cret marriage. afterward bitterly repented of.
She confessed how she had got 1' icely into
trouble by makin her the agen of those secret
interviews with .t. Cyr, on the beach, which

had aroused the  lousy of Sir Caryl e
and thus involv Cicely in troubles that should
have been onl her own. She confessed that she
had cometo t 9 beach first, disguised in boy’s
clothes, and that Sir Caryl, seem Elicer em-
bracing her, had had good reason 0 feel as he
did. She praised Cicely’s constancy in friend-
ship-her noble determination to protect her I
friend from the consequences of her rash mar-
riage-she avowed herself ready to make any ,
sacrifice or reparation in her power, to clear
Cicel of the v! e rumors which ' had set
afloa . She said that she had told or that all,
%nd that he had sent her .to confess to Captain

a '8. .

‘ Did she, thenvgrmownothingof the murder?”

“ No no! as it possible he could suspect
her of it? he was as innocent as a beb‘eyot any
knowledge of the hideous crime. ” v

“It maybe asunjust for meta suspectyeuas -
for others to suspect my poor dar ,” said the.
captain. “ But, whoever the in cross is, I
shall never rest until I have terreted her out. I
will give my life. to the work,” and he looked so
if he meant it. ’

“ I ray Heaven you may discover her,”cried,

1‘ 0m. , ' ' . ' \-

“ And now, Miss Leon, yon areworn out with

your journeyand the eXcitement 0! allch
ession of yours. Go to our room .andreet una-

til dinner. I am going London tomorrow,
and will be our escort home. I have one re-
questto me. e of you: before breakfast, in the
morning, I want you to go down on the shore

with me and call at the cabin of a certain old

fishermen who lives between here andthevn- ‘

‘Go down on the beach!” echoed Dolores,
shuddering and turning pale. ,

He was watching her closely to see 
received the proposition. I! guilt , she would
the _ erman- he
hardly considered that-to pass the place of the
murder would try any woman’s nerves 3:1
as Dolores was. .

“ Are you unwilling to go?” , .

“ Not if you ask it of me, Calptain Faye,” she
tried to s eh bravely, but e saw how she
shrunk an shivered. . ,

“ He will know at once, and set m doubts at,
rest,” the mptain was  “ 9 says he
can never forget her face. e will know if
this girl be the murderous whom he took over to
Bunagate, or not." He added, aloud: “ We
must go before breaktaSt, so as to be ready to
drivo to the station afterward. It you do not
object. I earnestl request your compan .”

“ Very well. am ready to do anything on
tell me, Captain Faye. Am Ito See Cicely? ’

“ I think not, this time. We think she is re:
covering her mental tone and esire to avmd
all excitement for her. 1The sight of her old
friend might be too much of a shock.”

Unlocking the door be summoned a servant
to show Miss Loon to her room._

When she met the grava, grief-worn tamil
at table a gmat lum arose in the visitors
throat which destroy all appetite. She made
a feint'of eating. but the tears constantly well»
ed in her downcast e es, and she was glad
when the time came for saving the table.

She had brought this terrible afllictilm on the

pride of the household! No wonder their hos- , p L

pitality was restrained and unwilling. ,
At daybreak the following momiugflnpmin
Faye, tapped at her door. , _ was Hound: V.

ad, waiting for himyand came~ out  

mediatelfi

‘l,.
1

 



  

3.“ y‘xa’,‘ ,’

 

.‘1 . 1“ ‘ "V
\ ' ' , .

n.

:

 

.v

 

 

 

, Her companion founder: extrayrap in the"
hell for her “as the mornin was sharp 
chm , and they went out an waned gong
ofl‘ own‘thgilpath'fi'hlch lento the cliifs, in '-
mostutter ‘ once; The seawas rolling n
' and-roughsnd' e bitin‘ “wind was blowing a
thfiemme down upon t e sands. v
the captahgtole a {crave lack (its gizi'l 
passed everyspotwere .‘r 9‘.
3her deadly gels, and shrink close 153:) him;
but he had no pi y for her—could not “afoul to
have pity-and e‘d her on error the ghastly

' inlolores asked herselti’i what he was (filter. r
e vs noe am on, gem ‘rapi you or

if aggrile or 3:? over the smooth wet beach to
Where, on a little spit of land stood a queer lit--
tle cabin built out of odds and ends.

when the had reached this he turned sud-
den}. upon er:  '

f‘ ere you ever here before?”

“No, sir, never.” ‘ ' o '-

“ Well! you do not object to calling on the
old fisherman who lives here? , I“ haven mo-

ment’s business with him. ”
“Certainly ’I’ do not object, if, you wish it,

Cagytain Faye.

‘ he was pale and distressed; but showed no
desire‘to avoidva meeting with the occupant of
the hut. . ‘ ' '

Captain Faye knocked at the door. '

No answer. . _ . ,

He knocked againéand again. ' .

" He must boot! on one 0 his fishing ex ' 1-
tions: I. am very sorry.” He went aroun _ the
little dwelling; there was the boat, her Single
sail furled‘ tied up to the tin dock._ *

The cap ' returned to w ere Miss Leon was
standing. ‘ _ " p

“The old fellow must be oversleeping him—
SBlf,” he remarked, _ ‘ _ ,

With‘th‘at he tried the latch, which yielded,
and opening the door he walked into the one
room. ,

The next moment Dolores heard him utter 'a
~ cry of astonishment and call to her come in.

I , ‘Look here, Miss 'Leon!”

She followed where his finger directed, and
sa‘ ,e, fde bed andonthe bed a rough old man
——asleep?-——no, dead. ‘ “ ' ' E

There was no  the stillness of that
sunken face. I  1 , ‘

She echoed the or her conductor had ‘ven.

"f He has been to] l murder ,” said t e cap
thin in a husky, str ned voice, looking full in
her blanchin 7 face. l

“Murder l’? echoed Dolores, Then she add-
. ed; “It seems tome we are hearing that word

tooeften." 4 , y . v 

:‘fHewas stabbed in hlssleep’, it seems,” con-
tinued the captain, stillvvatchmg her sharptlgr,
“ It must have been done  night, or at e
latest the night before”,  , '

“‘th could lhlave done; igl’L she iskeglhlzlne—
chanicall , not owingt a, s, e _ ea. .

‘ “ , there’s the rub, Miss Leenb:BO -

“ “yes he anythin to yOu, Captain Faye 9’? she
asked musing herse f. . p
t Was he anything to you, Miss Leon?” was

curious response.

,“'No,,indeed; I never saw him before. What
could he be to me?” , ,

“I donot know. I only know that he was
theonly person whosaw the murder-sea on that
fatal morning, and. whose testimony would cer-
tainly convict her! He has been put out ofvthe

way ” I , .

“ How strang, e! how horrible!“ Why do you
' look at me so, captain Faye? ’Do en sus ct
me? You insult me by cache. 1 i” an the
us, we haught’ fire or her Spanish temperament
flat out of, lores’s beautiful eyes. .

‘, y poor Cicely has beenvwmse insulted,”
was themswer. _ r ' r V
. “ This is a cruel, cowardly outrage!” quevered

mores, bursting into  . '

.‘f It  be,2’ rejoined her 00111981111011, “ but I
Shall do everything in my power to, detect the
criminal. If it were th ‘gueen on her throne,;I
would show no mercy, itwere to clear my
daughter from this unjust charge.” ‘

Hisglaamingeye over the bed, the fumi-
fl poor, meager chairs—and the

001‘.

.fiuddenly he darted forward and snatched
mowing from the floor where it my inst be-
".“(le the bed. The re. of the rising sun, stream-
l. in at the little dow, fell over it, and, as

is and

 It ed back the ‘ ht, Dolores mw*tbat it was

“5368mm leceo lald’s _wel setwitha
. £19 captain pwit cgémllyinhis

, metsthenturnedtom- .

  ,{fQoniel Kiss Leo we mil return to the-

. e \

[Hr
\.

anxiousto be placed, lik

 

mm. slbwggpmsflhumnobeos, he do

to ‘ to London today. autism: follow you
theghour that! am at liberty.” ,
They, y and silently, tothe‘
< Was the girl’ Who walked by the captain’s
side en'saudecious hypocrite? He almost tmmght
so. , . v .

 

CHAPTER XIX. .
‘ mummy HAS A Rival. .

MADAME ST. CYR, ensconced in elegant rooms
in a fashionable West End hotel, was the lion of
the- da . ' Very few doubted her story, which
she tol free] toall her unintenoes. r

It was a ’ e of direful ¢ isaster, from begin-
ning to end, to have hefallen so pretty, and help-
less and youthful a creatures

Her father had been a wealthy Creole of
Louisiana in the United States. He had sent
his motherless daughter to England, to. be edu-
cated, whenshe was only eleven years old, and
she had been in school there for six years, when
she received. news that her father had ruined
himself bygamhling and shot himself in New
Orleans. ‘

'His fortune was all wasted: there was not

enough left to y her last sixmonths’ bills; so
she was turn out of school, friendless. penni-
le'ss, sixteen old and beautiful. The only

kindness her. ormer teachers did her was to at
her a situation as nursery~gnverness in a. no le
family. There St. Cyr met her. He fell in
love with her innocent, childlike beauty. Uh»
known to the lady of the house, he followed her
up with flattering attentions but she felt that
a kind Providence had guided and guarded her,

giving her stren h torefuse his love milcss h‘e ..

proved it byma 'ng her his wife. The noble
famili in whichsh'e wac'governess Iii/ed in the
nei h rhood-of a certain church in the rish
of resswell' andto that church St. Cyr nally
took her, an there they were legally married.
though so rivately that eventhe family in
whic St. r visited and she taught didx‘not
hear of it, ,. ~Cyr having begged the curate
and clerk to keep their secret for the present
under the pretense theta knowledge of «it would
ruin his 1: ts with his uncle. I

The story of her living with him in London
the followm‘g winters—no. one dreaming of what
had become of her and he visiting her only me-
cretljy; of the birth of her child; of her gay hus-
ban ’3 rapid neglect and cruelty: his desortionr'
his pretense that the marriage was not a. rest
marriage' of her poverty and broken heart; her
flight to the United States with her child; her
four years’ experience-there, spent partly under
the protection of the nuns andpartly as a lovi-
erness again; her reading the news of her
handle murder, and »m'rowing moneyéto come
to Lonoon and establish her rights—ell this”,
with strange incidents and romantic episodes
beyond number~madame told to all ‘who were
disposed to listen. '

She was able to borrow all the money she
needed, on her prospects, and lived extra?»
gently, and dotted unceasingly to win away
the love of, artin Marshall from theglrl on
whom it was placed. ~ ' l e u

Her claims to the St. Cyr estate were before
r-the proper Court, and might have been,~per-
haps, easily acknowledged, had not counter-
clanns; been immediately pressed by a second
cousin of the murdered gentleman, who emerged
from some quiet corner of the world at the criti-
cal moment, and entered into the/fight over the
prgertoy with all that earnestness which
£‘ ,0( are apt to. He scoffed at the
idea that this adventuress had ever been the
wife of his prudent relative—“ the last man on
earth,” he said, “ to have entangled himself in a
men less alliance with a poor governess.” He
call upon her to produce the, records, the cu-
rate who had (performed the common y—he ewen
broadly hints that this madame, coming. from
Human knew where and being Heaven knew
what, had murdered Harley, «for the sinfile pur-

se of carrying out this conspiracy to strand

is relatives out of e. beun which, she must
bye! known in some manner, was coming to

Thenewclaimant was poor; but there were
lawyers enou‘ h ’anxiousrto conduct his suit on
the chance 0 his winni -detectiv0s eno h

aloodhounds, on to

tracker this woman, to chase down her past
.; 801th.“ Madame St. r, handsome, bold and

seemingly confident, h a hard time of it in
truth,st had need to be wary and watchful.
She did not change color when her favorite
friend, Mr. Jennings, oLCresswell—who had,
come up
remnants of the churcth
, '   her

rem ted toh


. 31'
V badmv

\

ii

 

 

i touched
? Juliet—may; call you soil—do not gnaw these, ” ‘  a:

; Cyr’s lawful wife, no one can dOubt after t '

!

 

, 1
‘ 1 I ' _ .
,.; r ‘ , » a,\,' '

V murmurs the widow.

Elli
lad

.1,

a _ . a... .z... ..._.-...'.h.._.,v...._..e_. an...” ....... . .. ..._.~-. -_...

made ebout she bein the assassin; ’ But; angle - ’
larlight leaped out rom and? her,th I  .,
lashes, followed by a mocking laugh: , I t ' ‘ ..  " 
»“ lair. Jennings, the whole  over there '
wheie the murder was Committed, who .
did it. But thle one is allowed to keep at
home, unmoles by the hand ofthe lam'be- , ‘
cause, torsooth, she belongs to afamilyof aristo- é ‘ ‘ I,
cratsl Since such stories are about to media ' ,
credit, it behooves me to demand that thelaw , -» 
shallldo its duty. I shall see to it that  ' _,
(heel Faye, of the ‘ Rookegérdau hter of CR?" " ‘1
tam Nays, retired armdy o , re ted to my” l , 
Lord This and my Lor That, is arrested on the
charge which I myself shall now prefer. {was
anxious tospare her; but self—preservatiouisthe _, '
first law of life; 1 have not been idle since! " v -
came here. I knew what witnesses to snbpcene
to testify against her. A certain former  1
mirer of hers, a Sir Caryl Croeslcy, of.  x ‘
Castle, will be an important   ' -‘
an old fisherman down on that  Whogfi
be another. Her own maid knows 
condemn her. 1am sorry for her~uery . V ,' ‘
indeed, for I. know Harley St. Cyrks wilesvwid- . ,
the fair- sex, and that, probabl , she was 'des- v
perate whenshe did the deed—int 1 mustle
“cut for myself, of course~must I

not, Mr. {legi- _
mnfié’” ._ .,  " .
.f‘ hy,eicourse. Asyou say, malignant»  ‘
tron,’ etc. No one but a lady of .yourexquisfiite ' '
tenderness of heart would hesitate an'inst'ant. ;
isyouheugbaek I’shannou ,Itis mydu to», .
see that your. interests are properly  ‘.
and not only my duty but my pleasure  
Mr. Jennings looked Very tenderly into the
handsome face of the widow, who outflow-n . 
bright eyes until the ion ,silky  almost  Q.
or achy che ‘ Now, my dear , ‘, 

 

  
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
    
      
  
  
   
 
    
  
  
 
  

matters to deprive you of an hour’s sleep.  , .1
are in my hands. .Thst you were Harley‘ K
halfidestrr.) ed shooter-show lucky that the  if
one esca . the fire, asbya miracle!-ere {319;
before the court. As to this cousin’s im udent  ‘
char-re, that will~ be speedily confined,  ,
simp e fact that you were not in the country'gt ',
the timel” , < ' ' ' , J‘ 4: .f
He watched her closely as he said -‘ eye  
words. Was there a tremor of thosel , ,droop— " 
ing lashes or was there not? ‘ , : 1 » ,3  a ,
“ It will be easy, for me toFrovethath ,
the United States the day 0 the murder, 

_;:S\".‘.< V. ' 2

answeredhim. ‘   .
v “ You are meet that?” hefiskedstfll ', 
ing her closely. 9; Since I am such agood -
.of yours, anxious only for your 

  

case—my own worldly welfare dependl ' V

on item will be best to;- £211, to co  e... ‘ ~22 '

filling, me, so that Imay ’prepared‘ut ‘ ,
urn ,  g f

“have told you the whole \

  
  

 

nings on ever subject” and her b ht’efu’ “ : fl‘  

werefraised ‘ful to meet his.  ,_-» 

cc tioninthew ole caseis thesn'mll'“  ' of;
' ' errand y

w ich you and I are

‘ vgzsctlcmsfl 

which 18 certainly justi by 1% he .fi 0093’" z

of the fact.” ' ' ' K  “ V
“ Certainly, certainly. If?“qu it in that Halli

iteagmyeaseas'bethewmecm*

am assured that 5’03} 
2 . 3,1

»I shall feel u
so soon as
am ee ngno ‘ ,
, ‘r‘ I believelgvou.‘ And now, do not
rosy checks or dull those magnum
ting about your case. it w' I " go V
Ishxfilwztfihig” to a  C 
V ‘ , ,0 'ga ‘cns _' ,- o . chain? 
such that more moneygfll héver repay ‘ 11%? T '

: lair-3n; ,

   

 

 

“I hope not.” he  am  ._ .
tend to earn your gratitude, at least. And new, "
I must go to the interview which, I , ‘  
ran .mth your lawyer. Shall

Fa  _’ z “ Yr 1,; ,Vh’
.“Yes. Tell'him “anything. 0r masthead 
him to 1119. Ask him to come and  ‘1 - *- “ '
this evening at eight. We cantalk'ovei‘ ,_ as,
Faye then.”  I _ , ‘ 5 4,, ,

Mr. Jennings did not quit Mademefit.er'e . 
very comfortable sitting-room a 
soon. She expected a , 1‘ iron: Mr. *  E ,
and she did not care for the two men to meet. ..'-
She was in love with Martin. She  3139“ j, ,

hegreat fortunetobribehunin‘to be "

won t_ _ , .
coming her husband. At the same tune shen- ,
whom she"'de~'

lowed this miserable Jew
spised, to believe that he high in ha" favors:
Smelli- will meal?“ “admit?” “i '"
some in en sc- er ‘ e j: , 
hadnlways somemg armies. . ,‘to’r send,W~ .

Harley. , r
for the young  who was kind ;
n her  a 

i nueuaand
V3.3 , “XS 

 

 

We»
1

and
, or been, med
,mgfiwethfirefll , V

t
‘J

- _ . ' mushy. knew whet-endows Leon'resided,
v.7  ‘  aad‘flhow enclookod, and that he spent all'his
: I ' ' evenings at her house, Martin did not dream.

Cicely, Sir I, and t e spot‘where St. 0 r
i was murdered, artin-did not dream. For a-
' ~‘damo St. Cyr, while apparently the most open
v; hurl confiding creature alive, was, in reality,
. r v .  one of the most secretive. .
"" ‘ é 805 today, she received him smilin ly and
I ., ‘ versed With him cheerfully, notwiths ndin
 not that her bus brain was seething with
asides. which might the ruin and death of
 , shoot, her Own sex», a young and refined and
  ' innocent girl. - .
.  wanted to confer‘with him about getting
a, ovcrness for Harl '.
' did not con. der himself the fight per-
’ He [never dream , in his
, _ A , that the governess was only an excuse
for  handsome widow to send for him, that
she might feast her eyes on hislface, her ears on
his voice, and that he might be com lled to ad—
,« mire her inthe ravishing morning ilet which

 

’.l.

T' *3, .  ' onned for him, of creamy white cash-r

e 5/ I more, with rose-colored ribbons and stockings.
  ' He was in more than his usualhaste to get
’ ' , away trmn her; for there was a visitor at Senor
,7 Item’s whom he had been invited and was anx-
  T, j He soon excused himself and went away,
’  ' without the beautiful widow having won from
‘ , him a tender word or glance.
. [“I willmakehim lovo me!”she cried, to her.
,self, stamping her little foot, after the door
' closed on him. “I will have no mercy on those
» ,, friends of his! I will ruin all who stand in my
' ,way, but I will win his love! Oh, I am sick——
 love-sick, I hal »Well-—~I am. -Whose busi-
ness is'it‘bu my owui Love-sick as'a girl of

 «rescue: Fa eistrap ,like some r.
 Wherewhhsefvootis wigs in the lpgggg‘l
I-never eawemore compl

 

  
   
   
  
   
   
   
    
   
      
 

, , etc chain of circum-
.  evidence: it winds about and about her
I ' ufitfl, I mar, it will strangle her to death!
“ _' ‘ I see, by the morning pers, the old fisher-
. when been found in cred. How sin-
“ ' '! Whatcould havebeen the object? How
. ‘ will guzzletheir wise heads over that!
.[ Imigt‘explainittothem,lf1hadthe
 ' “ CatainFa eisintown! Imustlook
..  .Wthatl thatb ngs him here,Iwonder! I
v , mymkeitmybusinesstoflnd out.

' ' ",‘If he etafi long? will be to be absent when

hithvorito ugh _ feels the cold hand of the
.   hol of her hand. How she will
_» shiver! ' at. it she be mad—as they saw—what
' "  it matter to her? WhyshouldIbesacri-
 ' deedto her?

a. ‘ .',‘“’}‘hearrest must be made speedily~before

" x " VMVfiewhispers ofthis relative of St. Cyr’s
'- ,  andtfiet about. It damages one
r‘ '  have such inga hinted. Theymust not
;  »be spoken aloud! The arrest must be speedy.”

'.
,2

 

F 3;“ $13 an (madam was not ready toleave
H 1; ,. curmugamy followiaig the scene on the
 beach, as ‘ narran . '
" “ ‘ ffiiseXcueew that th‘: im veinentswere
not Wendy vanoed for to leave them
with safety; yet his architect was certainly
more competent to look after these than the
x, etwas. Whentwoorthreedays
’3 'ound’him un repaired to accompany them,-

7 is.

’ ~ Sir Johnaud his ‘ aughter set cut without him
A . / tor own up in the North.
lregre exceedinglythat he could not

  - cum ' his uncle in wait
' couple filed-55““; but on John, to
 1 eel : e truth, was bored own there b the sea,

‘  and crazy to at at the autumn shoe ng; also,
' hehadinvite atleastadozen eats who were

tzteernveetCmesleyPsz-k on t e flrstofOcto—
her, and it now lacked but two days of the

 '4  Lucy could not keep back the bitter team

  which run to her 0 es as Caryl kissed her
it“ ” ' lightl Sign the cheek i?! saying -by for a
‘   dew shy; Here was the man 0 loved and

i . , was to many in a few weeks now, who did not
  her company enou h to make the effort
 ' , with them on theli the journey; for, that
, ‘ hisexcus'e about the improvements was an ex-
‘,  and nothing more, the eyes of jealousy
were minim... or. sad dsilent.
n ' o my was an
 wascogland bright; but she took
' \ fitted“  t: Wmiimit
. . ‘ ' so ’on ere
 endemigotadoaen million: the large 

‘ r

_'I

Hi

' Thatshe had been secretly, twice, to that part of 1
England where Cicely Faye resided, and had seen 1

  

2 , «7-....."722thw. . - - .....l..-..-

 

she had first spoken.

'7'" . \l',  
_‘_ _ _. . . t

. . ina_.w._........_.......r. WM... ....__... .._ ...,.. .. ..

carriage which awaited them at their list sta‘é
tion, brought them to Crossiey Perk. Not even
when the took to the carriage and were whirl-
ed throng, a most romantic region, with moun-
tains near at hand, high, wooded 81plateaus,
lakes and glimmering waterfalls did 9 evince
any interest. Her father rallied her:
“ My little
by the sea. 9 does not bring enough of it to
give a welcome to her home in the hills. I
must tell Caryl about it, ha, ha!’! I . r
“I beg you notto do an thing of the kind,
dear papa! It will not do flatter the men,”
she added, trying to smile, for fear her father
would wonder at the earnestness with which
“ They must he made to

guem at our love. ” ’

Poor Lucy! what she said was too true! but
she had not acted on her own maxim—her af-
fection for lhad been too freely betrayed
from the very . a

The house whic in the midst of Cross-
ley Park made no pretensions to being more
than a roomy 10d e. -

Very large an ramblin 'it was; but lain
and modern-«dime more an a. comic ble
shelter for the merry parties who came there,
the gentlemen to shoot and fish, the ladies to
“ tone u ” in the bracing mountain air.

Steedp 'lls wooded to their summits, rose up
behin the cluster of buildings; their shadows
la quietly in thestill bosom of a lon , narrow
lake whic ran for six miles along, at ir foot,
west of the house. There were streams for
trout and deep, wild woods for game. No won-
giggles John was impatient to reach a spot like

Lucy had been ssionately attached to Cross-
ley Park when u ittle girl not et banished to
that nch pension; now or blue eyes,
heavy with unshed tears, roamed listleMy over
the well-remembered scenes.

What were the lonely, lovely lake, the wild,
gloomy bills, the picturesque forests to her, who
saw but one scene wherever she looked?-a clifl'
by the sea, with a man sitting there, gazing
with a rapture of despair and love upon the
beautiful girl who faced him. w

Luc hadnot gathered courage to break ed
with ryl; all be some, she could not blind
herself to thetruth that he did not love her and
did love somebody else. What she suffered,

on, who have felt the guawings of jealous
eve of unreturned 'on, may imagine.
on her fond in her lifted her from the car-
riage, with the red light of sunset fallingsharp—
1y over her, he noticed how pale she was, and
what a weary look the blue eyes wore.
h “1253 my pet ill! Is there anything wrong with
or
“Nothing at all, dear papa. I am as well as

’Icanbe

Then the old Scotch housekeeper and her hus—
band came out to welcome the master and to
shake hands with Miss Lucy, and to wonder at
thafiretty, retty child so quickly grown to be
a- , beau 'ful Eyoung lady.

Sir John had rou ht with him his valet, his
butler and his dang ier’s maid, also his cook,
who all four came up behind the carriage in a
covered van which had been sent for them.

- It was elm-ind chilly u there in the moun-
tains that day of \ptember. A huge
wood-fire roared and splattered and sent up
showers of  the great stone hearth in
thesqum towhichSh-John led his
dau ter.  before it a few minutes
w 9 her maid went first to Luc ’3 room with
the wraps and Small baggage. erhaps Lucy
was over-tired for, when her father, rubbing
his chilled hands and stretching them out to the
heat, asked her if this were not glorious, she an-
swered by burstin into tears, and sobbing as if
her heart were bro en. -

“What is the mutton-Lucy? I do believe
you and Caryl have been indulging in a lovers’

quarrel.” »

“ No, no, papa! nothing of the kind.”

“Then you are worn out with the journey.
You had better go at once.to your room. I
will see that {our dinner is sent to you there.
So, good-mg t, my pet, and do. come down
Eight in the morning, or you will give me the

ues.

v' “ To—morrow there will be plenty of company
for you, Lucy. The Earl of Claneagle is to
bring his wife and dau liter. Major Porter
will make himself agrees e to you. Ca tain
Jenks brings daughter; and Lord Han boys
will help you with your music and singing.”

“Is Lord Bautboys ”

iIOIQRite

\

coax him to matter your ring? him the
_ mitten... always a  for him, and
he’s enginedseIamottrout-

. ‘ r if
i v " ,.
. ‘ ‘ I .

1 has left her whole heart down .

 

, pa 1 . '
.“Yes, I 19th work to .
" _ " tor worlds The shock would 'kiil’he'r

I

‘ .
W. _..... _....- .................. -_.,._...... _.W.-....___.....__..,.__ .,.. ,__,

insisted for I new, an’the time, that he 
dreadfullytoecoepw . , 1., V .

“On account of the ‘ i” asked Lucy.
She had ceased to sob andwip g her eyes, cast
a curious, sfirkliug glance at her father, which
we? “met ilk: littl girl is \ tte!”

. won or rm e acoque ..

Jealousy has drhren more than one ' 1 into
heartlem coquetry ---it may pomi'b have
brought wicked thoughts even to gentle uc .

I eantime, as soon as his uncle and cousin , d

left Cliff Castle, Sir Caryl proceeded to Carri
out an idea over which he had brooded; whic .
was, to call at the Rookery and try to make
peace with the family there. He went that
very morning. .
Arrived on the lawn be perceived that some
excitement was hurrying the servants and
others about the place, as if searching for some-
thing. A great pang smote him, for it occurred
instantly to him that something had gone wrong
with Cicely. .

l-le advanced to the door, where a. servant
stood, and asked for Cagtain Faye. ,

“He is not at home, ir Cary He went to
London yesterday morning.”

“ Can see Mrs. Faye 03‘ Lady Graham?”

At that moment Lady Graham came quicgldy
into the hall. She seemed troubled and hurri ;
her eyes were red with weepin‘ . Sir Caryl

'took oflf his hat, bowin profoun_l . She an~ '

swered his salutation o with a 11 cry:
“ Sir Caryl,

Cicely r, ow anything about,

“ bout Cicely! No, Lady .
she—is she—has anything—” he stammered.

‘fThen you do not know! Very woll.
and I are not friends, Sir l; but I thought
you might have come with tidinm. Let it pass,”
and she turned coldly from him. ’ =
h Si: Caryl darted forward and caught her

an ' ,
’ “ For God’s sake dear Lady Graham, tell me
what has happened? I came here to see your
father, and beg his pardon ve humbly for any .
and every wrong I may have one Cicely in to
thought. Heaven knows I bitterly re nt i .
I fee the loss of your friendship, raham,
and of the family’s, very deeply. I esire to be
friends again—to serve you, if possible. Do not
un o ving. You wring my heart!”
He clung c osely to her hand like a drowning

man, while his eyes were fix u n hers with
such a look of filteous entreaty she could
hardly refuse to ear him.

“ It is too late ” she said, solemnly.

“Too late! Ilmow it is toolatc. , I will con-
fess to on that several days edge I met Cicely
wands ng by herself on the sun 8 and I observ-
ed that she was not uite herself. Since then I
have suffered tormon of remorse. Is there any
anguish like that of remorse, Lady Graham!
Pitydme, ’theu, for I under that anguish night
an a .

Y

“ I have no time to pity you. I think only of
my sister. Ah! when will in father reach
here? I would that he might y! the train is
too slow. He went to London yesterday—sleet .
night, before midn t, Cicel esca from the
house, and we have 11 um e-to her." ‘

Caryl gave a cry. Shewiped‘her eyes and
wont on: . ' '

“ She goes to the beach whenever she gets out
of the house. The tide was coming in ore ‘
midnight, and we fear—we fear, she was swept I ’
awe —- '

“ van forbid!" ,

“ She wrote, a note aud'lpinnod lttohezgn'llow,
sayinggthat she was no on or mad, h lane;
audt tshewas oingtoloo after-proof of the
murderess of St. Elyr, and would returnin three
days, and we were not to trot about her for she
knew just what she was about. She dressed
herself in a travelin ~suit, took her purse and
handbag—but oh 8 Caryl, she is insane-—
mad people never think they are you know!—
and as we can get noclew tohor having gone in
any other direction we think she went clown to
the beach-got bewildered—it was darkth
last night—and was drawn the. tide.

“ God help us all!” nod S Caryl.

“ You have heard, dare say, of the murder
of the old fisherman down by the cove, two
ui hts ago?” ' .

‘Ihavenothemd. Ihavebeenbusyathome.”

“ He was stabbed with a penknife. You will '
be surprised, in more ways than one, when . the
whole truth about these two murders comes‘Out,
Sir Car 1. To think that my poor sister—the
 he most delicate-minded—ah, how can

stem and talk to yea, who were most cruel of
all! Go away,.sir! (Go out of  houso'Which
you have, he pod es- make'wretohed! Ifwould

not have my mother conie in and see you here,

  

-. I, ‘ , ; .
, H. , L ‘

 

i

, “You are very bitter  ainst me," 

Caryl, with drooping h , " but not more hit»
ter than I am against mfyself. I “lil‘lfo at’onco.
But I shall hel search or Cicel . ‘ on have no

right to ferbi my doingthat. must do it—-or
,‘ go mad, as she did!” striking his hand upon his

forehead. “For 've me I am going” and he
stumbled out of gt'lhe ball as if he were intoxi-

cated.
' When he 1: out on the lawn he looked up
gitifully at t o wide‘blue sky as if asking the
owners above to give him some aid in the search
he was about to commence.

Then he dashed awgy down to the shore, and
stared at the wild. do waste of waters; but
they gave him no more answer than the 3 had
done. A strong breeze had blown throu the
night, washing all footsteps fisom the beac and
etrewing it with sea-weed. If Cicely had come
here she was lost indeed!

He recalled what Lady Graham had said
about the note. He wished he had asked to see
that note. It seemed to him that he would be
able to decide whether it was the vagary of .a
mad girl, or whether it really meant what it
said.

He did not venture, however, to return to the
Rookery. He had no desire to run the risk of
shocking gentle Mrs. Faye to death. _e went
home and wrote to Lady Graham begging her
to send Cicelg’s note to him by the messenger,
that he, Sir, aryl, might try faithfully if there
were not some 0 ten from it. After
dispatching this, he walked about restlessly.

0 did not once think of Lucy.
She was as much out of his mind as if no such
' rson existed, until the cabinet—maker came to
imto ask himWhat the color of the brocade
should be for the furniture of the boudmr.

Then he remembered that Lucy wanted'it
blue, and that Lucy was going to be his wxfe
verysoon, and that she had gone away from
himwiih tears in her eyes.

The recollection irritated him.

3‘ I would rather put on mourning than mar-
17,” he thought. I V

‘I suppose I am doomed to break Lucy’s
too

“ at an unluc wretch I am!”

“ I wiSh I were we 1 over with life.”

So he muttered and murmured, walkin about
from room to room, until he bethou ht im to
take his hatand rush forth to meet t e messen-
ger he had sent: to the Rookery.

The man returned with a verbal m, from
Lady Graham that she declined to place or sis—
ter’s letter in Sir Car l’s hands. .

Then Sir Caryl rus ed of! to the beach agam,
and there he remained all day, thinking every
bit of froth that whitened an incoming wave
' must be the white cuts of his drowned love,

and looking to see laid at his feet.

‘ The next mornin there was terrible news for
him-mews which ew all eager the htillel hbor;Z
hood reachinglim,amon o ers,w e e as
at his solitary breakfast-gable, pretending to
eatbutonlydrinkin cup after cup of tea to
quench his feverish t

The news was this:

The sheriff of the county, with two of his
men, had been'at the Rookery the previous eve-
ning to amst .Cicely Faye on a charge of mar.
der- preferred st her by J ullet St. .

Not finding iss Faye, the sheriff had oft the
men on guard at the Rookery, to arrest her, if
she returned there, and had sent out ofiicers in
await of “the fugitive,” as he was pleased to

rm poor Cicely. , ' ‘
- The diatoms of the family was redoubled—es-

' yasCaptain Fayehad madenoresponse
, the telegrams sent to his address in London,
- remaining away, for some unexplained reason,
when he was so needed at home.
“whirl Graham wentto London to tryand find
ca

members kindly said that Faye was as
"listing his da ter’s ht; and that, of course,
his family on emtood t, and their searchm
for Cicely and telegrams to the father were
“ a blind. ”

And the shadow over the Rookery was black

ewtobego

and threatenin .

And Caryl galked the sea, thinking it
would be better if ind his love was under the
hungry loam—forever under

“ Tho cruel, crawling foam.“

. CHAFI‘ER XXI.
» m unasswnLL cauaonrm. ,
,\ Ewan ST.,CYR had carried out her inten-
’ lion of ,demandinggthe arrest of Cicel
‘ But, aswehow,whentheomcers so
alchem‘not to be round. '
t she had run away, and
s‘,.lv./_‘,.r".,t‘)

fill; 7‘

that her father I,

 

\ _

» ‘ a  

had cdnnived at may” a natural sue
icion on the part  whose” business it is

suspect I _
Her friends at home feared that she had been

drowned. It seemed veg strange to the too,
however that they co 6. get no news 1!!
Ca tain li‘aye.

owever, just after Lord Grahamhad started
for London, a brief lettet was received by Mrs.
Fa e. This letter was from her husband, and
been mailed at some small station on his
route; it bid her not to be alarmed at his ab-
sence as very important business had suddenly
called him to the South of land and he
could not be home for several eye. He did
not state where he was oin , so that the family
could not telegraph to m t e new trouble they
were in. It seemed to the ladies at the Rookery
as if their cup of calamity was brimmed to
overflowing.

Meantime, in the little parish of Cresswell
far removed from these exoitements, there had
arrived at the old—fashioned inn, bi coach from
the nearest station, a stranger, w 0 registered
himself as John Kemp, and who stated that he
was an antiqu ve much interested in all
the old buildin of gland, especially its
churches. He a mired the quaint httle Village
very much, and made a sketch, the first morn-
ing, of the church. He asked all sorts of ques
tions of all sorts of people, was very pleasant,
and Very liberal of his sixpences to the poor 01
women andthe sta boys. He made the. ac-
quaintance of the sexton, who was in his eighti-
eth year, and of his wife who was but a year
or two younger. The old couple had an 
covered cottage at the corner of the chu -

ard. The good wife was willing to have a

'endiy chat any time of day with the traveler
who had made such a pretty sketch of the
church; while the trawler seemed not easily to
wea of the subject.

“ I is a thousand pities such a fine
of the old Norman architecture she
been so injured by fire."

“ Ay, ay, a thousand 

“Is it to be restored, .

“They sa. so.”

“ How di the fire occur?"

“ That I cannot tell you, air.”

“It was in summer weather, was it noti~so
there could have been no fires in the building?"

“It was this last summer, sir. D’ye mind
about that murder of a fine entleman some-
where on the sea-coastl—well, wasa night or
two store that! I remember I said to Mrs.
Hobbs, ‘ Mrs. Hobbs,’ says I, ‘ misfortunes never
comes single.’ ” . .. i

“ It was in the night the church took fire?”

“It sir-e it was n h onto four of the
mornin’ when Peter, he w , with the light in
his eyes, an’ he rouses, me, an’ we run out, an’
see it a-blazing afore our very eyes.

“Lord! it give me such a turnl The folks
was a-runnin , by that time, and they got the
fire out afore t went much furder.”

" Did they form no Opinion as to how the fire

Originated ’ .

' It seemed to have tooken inthe clerk‘s room,
sir. Some thought he had been smoking his ci-
m in there, among the books; but he swore he

n‘t been in the room since Sunday; an’ some
thoughiiit might be matches left carelem as the
mice ed.”

“What did you think Mrs. Hurdle!” .
‘_‘ fie, sir?” she asked, startled, looking up
we .
q Meegiug the keen eyes fixed on her face, she
looked down again.

“ I didn’t think nothink," she answered.

The gentleman put his hand inhis pocket and
drew out ten glittering golden guineas, which
he threw in the old woman’s lap. , ‘

“Tell me all about it,” he said. “It will be
worth more to me than that, to know." ' ,

“How d’ye know I know anythinki” she ask-
ed him, in wonder. ,

“ Isaw it in your face. Believo me, not the
leasthharmin in the worldnshall come to you from
an t on me. say. ‘

g1 dog’zlmow Zothink, sir. Indeed I don’t l”

“ But you ct.”

“ Now, you c be a cute one. sure enough!”

She took up the 1d and fondled lt-w

“I’ll tell you'w at I saw an’ what I heard.
p’Twa’n’t much. But, it’s been-on my mind, since,
sir. Either I saw a strange womanou the porch
of the church, the evenmg afore thefire, er I
saw a ghost—one or t’other.”

“Yes? I am glad to hear that.”

“It was this way sir. I was coming home

imen
d have

as cuss sir."
urdle?” ys’

rs “esteem, w» as Peter b ii.”
an a an ' _
-' .with renerlog'my neighbors. tyng

Smoonhg I‘Et. an" cominth the church I thought

 

I’mnomore afeard oft dead  .
an’ as we have discharge 0’ Wham}
openthe tean’walkeduptotbe h .‘
seewhatwas ere; Ifl’dbelievedinggts -
I should’albeen frigh ‘ sir.
tallfifureonthe porch. tstoodquite
when comeu thewalk. Itwastamamdwas "
'dresstedinblac i) Ithad stat: {new 
grea staring lack e 00 ' - ‘
throughme. askeditvyvhhtitwudoingfim,
but it made no answer. It didn’t stir, even
whenl walked nptoit and touched its dress, an? '
thatfr' tiedmealittl soIran awa . Peter,
he laug edat me, when told him. ewaein ,
,an’he wouldn‘tgetu togoan’look.  
theflre,Itho htabouttgeg ost,au’Isa[ to, '
myself, ‘the‘giost fired thechurch, v > the , ~°
ghost was a living woman,’ for I {either breath ‘ r.
on me when} touched her. ButiI hekltmy, »
tongue.“ ’Twa’n’t worth while talkin’ Wtdh ,r
an’  reticuled.” ’  
“ real you knowthewomanifyou camber.

l‘ Mebbe I would an’ mebbe I wouldn't.” I
“Have there been any strangers about hue, "
since the i" '

Inseam-mereouthepomh.  = V
‘ o. the ob

ween.”

“Th wasafine ladyherhmne  ,, ‘
threeweeksago. Shecometogetthereeordof *
h Ibelieve; but thebooksw‘

or marriage, as ,
burned. She talked a gooddeal with Mil-16!)? ,-
mngfiheclerk; an'theydosayhe‘s,  ’
to 'ndontostay, now. I believesheg,  ' \
edhimasherbusinessagentos‘.mthlnk. ‘ J 
“ Did you see her!" ' g
“ Not very near." ’ '
“ Was she tall?" v
6‘ Sir 7’ i '

“About the hi t of theghoet,’ torinsmr'i
“I hadn’t thought 0’ comparing ‘em, sir.” w >

“Well, was she?” ~ ‘
' “Nowtzou mention it, I should sayehoswu." 
“Put e money away in the old stocking] I z 
our pennies, Mrs. Hurdle, and-sath; "v

with
ing a ut my havin given it to ' crthe 
uestions I have asked on. May 1% about 71‘
echurchyard at my eisure?” , - '  
“Ay, sir: an’ Inlany   
’Twill, comegoodw enPeter  
vhgiinfiatixggonhimsadl h:Iiowi" '  ‘ 
‘ ope emoney yo good.~ " mayr i».
call on inmthemorniug. ‘ i L '
.1 go a ,. V I b .‘H “
stonewhere ehadbegnsit'  "
hardmverthastileinmtheo Mum 
th gmvesforsomedistancebehhsdandmd . "
the church. Thesunwassetting '
butchilly October day. Thecedars My!!!" "f ,
sighed mournfullyas they shivered fathered . 
liglht, drooping over mongi‘tombs. , . I » *
he place was very 'tary.  ‘1
wasv thoughtful, yet veryelataulm - *-
edslowyaboutthegrassyaislesr A  yr
when be perceived  ”

 
  

 

  
  
 
  
     
 
 
   

He uitestarted
"the 1 thi‘nland 
1° 0“ i 
aging mbs’trone. Hayfiemtmm,m ,
him,p;lrha;ew;si?herahl;and'but,asatigg. «5
sun. on r 18  '1-
an tohisuinteneeammentheaaw—si ; -’;;~
6‘ a ‘ I ,1 ‘ a
“ ($5237! Hy God. chfldwhat  
“Papa, oome,sit lure beside me,an huh} ”
llynu. Bowdid oufindout com . 
“misdirection?” 3' I IN, vhf
“Indidnotfindit out. Icameihere‘, 

u The same as mine, perhaps, 

“died amy'besid' her too}: ' mm 
e own 0 ha ' , ' -
and in her face, while a gracious: or}.~

mem°rly and fiolg’ded his souls—torn saw I _ 
n that worn youngfacethat . 
we: sari-h m...» «  ' *
3 an un ’ are , ' '7 the”
, said, still gravely‘ ' .H' “The wheel ‘no-
‘ lo er turns in my poor head, i 
flggtagaimthankthe  "
‘All right again, my Cicely?” ‘ v ,
“Yes. The hateful illusion is gone. Iain, 
urCicely,justasIusedtobe.’ pap l
, tnight twoni hts ago, when I aw  ,
feltmyselfwell, t are cameto in like a flash 
' of lightning, bringing out the tru athought,
a s icionm—no, not a sus icion, but a, concur
tion at I could discover £119 murderer of ’Mr.
St. Cyr. Something told me that if! would
come to this spot all would be made‘clear to me.»
,- I aroseand _ for a journey mm note
{ toimamma telling her not to be a armed about
3' me,andcame here. I took the nighttrainat
your station—Ida not think anyonefiheh'no. H

 

~ .' _‘;/

in”, .'i:'   mi '1, .-‘

I) . n ‘ k. l.‘,. v /\ \. .
i ‘ . I]. I. ~
.;'"Itr.;'““"' ~ '

 

xi} .

 

. ' [h ' . ’ ’ I " _ z A
, ’7.“ need mMfld when it was
 ,"chm§e-mMower'rmd '-
 v/rhad knownthe wayall
~ Anchorwoman .
airmgtohave rev "to me whatlmust do
, , , when I lookedaround saw u.”
' v ‘fi f  1' 1!, How strange all this is]
.',So,,;j ewhee no longer disturbs your poor

 my ‘ - e
' ‘, ,‘4. ,ogpalfit Cannot youseethat Lam myself

‘ 8314?.  I
. ' ’g'l’hnse beautiful, tranquil eyes met
' “ withtheold clear radiance sh ning in them.
 .. “ Thank “l” he cried catching his child to
,  ‘,Ican face the world in your do
‘ While-how, Cicely.. ,I came here to find out, if
' ., lo, how it chanced that this church was
, , of. all others, in time to destroy the
. , age. A, , "
‘,  1,. I was thinking of that. But see!
 ml in the grass at the .foot of this
"he in” i” 333'“? :3“? by “‘3
, 0s _, as, roac ' l8 m,arayo
'~ ‘ sunlrijght struc  Elli on’the pencil, so as to causc
. i it to climax-mud I noticed“. ”
, ' . She in'hishand a gold pencil-case, no
: cued ,afewhiohwasengzraved: f Juliet Henry,
L 'MedBm-fromfi-Stv, .” r i
,I ' Captain Faymamined it with, eagernem
  went. . ,
3 ~' “1‘ is worth a good deal to know her real.
,rn‘ “l’hesaidtohlmself. ' _‘
 ‘ , :e hills in his hand while he and his daugh-
a longtalk, of keenest interest to them—
‘36 was. L

r , ,    ,of it the father said:
-  I- “You must not 0 home at present, Cicely.
,Sheintendsto ma e the l't appear ours.
 willlhave ou arrests . Y
came ‘

‘ awe .
 y; s . You shallbe  Kemp—my daughter
artist. who wishes to paint the lpicturesque
find board

  
      
  
    
  
 
  
        

I W, .
my life. 
. Ewan sitting here

no

his gaze,

‘1
.3
c.
3.
e

8
g
5

  
 

 

shelf-ruined Creswell church. I wi
, , formulasome decent family, and you will be-
- I , ‘_ picture and be very industrious.

  f ‘ my. lit 5: girl think that she can live alone

as aw.  . l .,
‘vfi‘ .. its Medusa-papa.”
 “g ‘ en wil place you as wellas lamlable,
. and, getaway from, here tomorrow forenoon.
   . . I‘” K ,. . .
a» As 6 talked, thecaptain twisted and nntw1st—
edthebead ofthe ncil-case,whichfinall came
his bun , e looked into the litt e tube
hold the leads, and found it filled with
y f kin out the paper with a
smoo bed it out. It was a
v .,  French note-paper, covered
 The ink was somewhat faded,
j ght was descending. He could not
f , H  145118

. .i 1,,

        
  
  
   
  
  
  
    
    
    
  
   
   
  
   
      
    
     

  

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up young eyes read it can] ’: it
. be , t of a letter, from which the
fleet. “ I  torn; and, though. closely
mu, ,ngwss inamasculine hand: ' . .

_. .‘ Itseefl ,dlffionlttomak’e you understandduliet,
,;tlia:tg‘ ‘iionce a man tires of awoman of your
‘clhss he tires of her forever. Why cannot you let me
  are. other men, who have far more
impugdqppend on you than I have, whom you can
., . ‘ _ .. you arestlllpassably youngand very
.  ,, 'efigYou have grea talents asan adventur-
 ‘ lived in the da 5 of Louis XVI. on
inighthdfi’been a second ame Maintenon. ‘ t
‘ine kindly advise you to try ‘ fresh fields and pastures
"116ml: arms Earn a married man—have n
 celast March, though the affair is kept
- _  This renders it im ssible that I
' g your sug estlontowe with on, fair
3 in ’ mylas £10. leaving mysef a few
shillings. Use it to reestablish yOurself as the
use ‘ luckier man. ‘All that’sbright must
ads ’e-even o d love affairs. I advise you to remain
$0.11 carry out your threat of coming to
‘be very angry. ‘To the wise a word
A ' Let thisclose ourcorrespondence, dear
inflict,“ j (so, farewell, my fair friend of former
a  " ' r
.. ,WJane 15th. Sane.”
1,, “,It isvery strange that you should have been
sent here to pick up the lost pencil, Cicelylr It
g .5i‘voa-me the information most needful. -My
I ‘:.~ , arli all will 0 well with us howl”
'V "He: 1 . .  ull rclleddandt figturned ilthe
 . per 1 mg- (:9, an. pu e penc in
 gspneket book. ‘PThere Will be arhuge sensa-
l tion in 1me some day,_Cicely. and you will
Malgnl‘nueont .ot, ' as unsofl as the angels of
’ Hede ‘-’._l‘heretis a' thunderbolt for ' g that
will   adventures dead. are will
suffer  the shock, too-your poor, foolish
WWII for one—but that is necessary.”

 

i
S.
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e a was to
m “at; can *1"

,Writing, which was in French, but I

f sorrntu‘nnras."

Mom: than a fortm' ht went by in sunshine
1 and shade over the w (1, still beauty of Cross-
! ley Park and the great mountains behind it,
3 over the bright lake at its foot, over the chang-
1 ing woods and the wide valleys that stretched
' away-from. it, and at the one rson for whom
a p ofbiue eyes ooked eager y and wistfully,
. did not come.

; The other visitors had all been there from the
? beginning. He, who should have been most in
haste to seek that spot, came not. Again and
; again, the carriage, which had been sent twelve

miles to the station, came back without him.
“ It is the improvements that keep him,” Sir

John cheerfully explained at dinner, evenin
after evening. “Do not mind it, my t! t
only roves how anxious he is to have things

ino er,_in season for your return there. That
is his way of showing his devotion. And a ve
sensible way, too, I take it. Caryl is conve
ing the gloom old castle into a lady’s silken
bower. uch t in take time, my pet.”
“Certainly/b? “ h, more time than one
thinks!” “. ntractors never come up to their
promises,” murmurs the gay company in re-

use, while the young‘ladies env Lucy her
gap? ts and only one out of the 'ttle part
watc 3 her paling face with ‘keen eyes whic

read the story of neglect and a fond heart slow-‘
1y breaking. ‘ 1

Those keen eyes 'belongto little dark-faced,
(fillet Lord Hautboys. Every afternoon, when
t e carria comes back empty, he shuts his
teeth toget er hard to keep base the contem t
for the absent which rises to his li s, while e
secretly wishes that he had this Sir aryl before
him, with a fair field and no favor—in which
.case, little as he Was, he would pummel into him
some sense of what was due to a lady!

It certainly was a soothing balm to r Lucy’s
sorely-wounded ride, to find that rd Haut—
boys sincerely a mired and respected——ay, still
loved her. , '

And the slender lord, in his chivalric wish to
avenge her wrongs, was quite willing that she
should thus take Comfort. He attended upon
her assiduousl . He walked b her side in the
grounds, rode her side to the nut, took her out
in his boat on t e lake, sat at her hand at table.
When be perceived the tears which had formed
a naughty habit of Welling-up into her blue
eyes, he looked away with a sorrowful ’countes
nance. His delicacy, his devotion, were worthy
of all praise. . , , '

But, Lucy loved her cold cousm, and she could
not, would not appreciate the worthof this oth—
er love, so unobtrusive but inalienable.

Her vanit was soothed, which Caryl so care-
lessly hurt, ut her heart was not touched.

Lord Halitboys did not hope to win her. He
would not have permitted her to seethat he still
loved her bad it not been that some refined in-

iration Of his delicate nature told him that
t is \firould be a consolation~though a selfish one
-——to er. ‘ '

He had been a married man once, and under;
stood the sex. His love was pure gold-but
*' Lucy didnot comprehend that. , .

IT We or three times there came a letter to Lucy
from her fiance. ,

She would have been ashamed to confess how
brief they were-mere notes—saying: “ I am
still detained, dear Lucy. Cannot say, just when
I will be able to go to 'Crossley Park. I trust
{gm do not miss me much, as you have plenty of

tter oompan . I hope to seefiygou before many
days. Regar , to uncle and yourself frOm
yours, Caryl”, '

Not very ssionate love-letters.

Ther ma e Lucy cry, not for joy.

“ T at girl is keeping him ” was her one bit-4
ter, miserable idea. ‘ I will tell him so if he
ever comes. Why did 1 not when I was with
him? Coward that I am!

“I will write him a letter. I can write it,
when I am as hurt and offended as I am now'
but Imight an if I wait to tell him. Yes,i
will write and release him from this e ement
which is so hateful to him. He‘is a a man,
too. It was not right for him to be with that
young woman on that mornin .”

“I will not send the car age again until
tact word to expect him,” said Sir John, at

The mornin after, the whole household,
nearly, went 0 one grand hunt. The ladies,
well-mounted, rode hard after the men. Lucy
alone chose to remain at home. . She meant to
write berrletter to Gary], breaking, oi! their en}-
gagement. She mtg}; to her/room incom-

 

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1 summer {the-handle om;  '
gammy teetéhggand ' pan

-
dark, solemn mountains and cool b uesk .

her cheeks ' g like dew onroses; but she,

did not write a sigfle line of the indi

which burn and pal itated in er heart.

he was called to her so tary luncheon, and

1 locked up her desk andwent dowu with the deed
un one.

After luncheon she strolled out into the park.
It wasa little chilly in the house, except where
fires were burnin ; in the sunlight it Was pleas—
ant, and she wan ered on and on, out the park

that she felt no fear in

did she realize how far she had us from the.
house until she suddenl found erself in the
gemsence of a rough-loo 'ng fellow, who had
on lying in the grass underneath the trees by

familiar remark to her. ,

Makin no reply she turned about and walk~
ed rapid y towar ome. He followed her, and
the next moment’she felt his rude hand on her
shoulder, and saw his drunken, leering face close
to her own.

“ We‘re all alone here, my beauty, and you
must give me a kiss.” ‘ '

The frightened girl ave a
and started to run, but 6 held
her frantic efforts to esca

His brutal li’ps, }
rifled hers when u might blow on the side of
the scoun rel’s head sent  reelin to his fall.
After he was down .he was Well w ‘pped, and
then a vibrant voice added: , V '

“ G stout of this part of, the country‘at once,
villain. or I will send the servants to drag you

piercing scream

‘ of m revolver on your 
“ ear Luc , there, there, there! Hush your
sobbing—roe y, you are not hurt, you anW.-'

‘There is a Providence‘that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.

When I started to walk the twelve miles from,
the station, I had no idea that I was predestined
to rescue you from the hands of this savage.

for A have been but a poor knight hitherto, un-
(xivorthy «lof’wearing your favor on my sleeve, my
our air . t .
He'had her little hand on his arm and was
. gently, leading her away from the scene of the
\ strife. .Lucy wiped her eyes, looked up at him
and smiled. 'ThisiNasCaryl—be was heme-her
4 hand was in his—ho was sgeaking soothineg to
her! She still trembled, at a flood of he i:
ness poured in on her poor, foolish heart. is
forgot, as before, everything in the world, but
that she loved him. ‘ V .

“I am so sorry you had to walk, Caryl. We;
have sent the carriage to the station nearly
over?! day.’ '  ,

“ like the walk—it has done me good. I’
have—:4 have not been very well.” ' ‘ ‘

l . It must be truepfor he looked ver 111. inf
eed. He had grown thin and ale, 5 eyes

Fgre sunken and hollow—he ‘ ad " changed
1'

ed rem him. She felt ’so glad that she ha

sent him that accusing letter. She raised his

hand to her lips and kisSed itu , 

“ Dear Caryl, then you did not come because,
you were ill, and could not? And ‘ou Were as
careful of me that you would not, 11 me you
were ill, for fear I w0uld We 1” ' .

“ No, Lucyg do not give me credit which I do
not deserve.’ He looked about, and saw the
trunk of a fallen :tree beside the wag. “I'atn‘
a little weary with my walk. -W I you sit
here beside me a few moments, while I tell you"
the exact truth about it? They say that eoné

‘fession is bod for the soul; and, certainly, if
you and are ever to be man and Wife, you
on ht toknow what I am about to tell you. 5

gy sat side b side; her face had poled, and
shes 'Vered as cold. . , '

“Lucy, since I saw on last, the

loved—you remember, told Jan I| ad never

really loved but once—has di 1 .
r He paused to get control of his choking voice.

‘ Her heart gave a great throb~was it of joy?
“She was subjected to such injustice from, me
and Others-81th cruel persecution-4.11“ she
lost her reason, in a measur" Wandered down
on the beach at night and \n. drowned. .I am
- going to tell you all about it from the begin
mtg, Lucy.” _ r
‘ is d voice faltered as he told the story of
his love or Cicely Faye-4: ‘
 her his th herwthe

 

as , ti was ..
tothe   my. 3

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\

Every now and then . great was ‘down‘f:

tines‘

ates and along the road. The lace wassosoii— ‘
guy ing alone; nor ,

the roadside, and who rose up and made some "

er fast despite.
hot witllie whisky, would have .;

off to jail. Up and Off 2 or 1 will try the virtues

am lad to be ofeome service to you, for once,”

The soft blue eyes searched his face anxious} .

ghtfully in the short time since she had ,
n

lIflrst‘

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Milt!» his ‘ as we know it,
the bell that

ending in only bed been
Whig summ' meets...
" on ' e rs ' . me,
 no Ed ofythe missing girl,” he said,
cone usion, “ cannot tell you how I felt

What I entered; but it was all, all that love an
/ remome'oan heap upon a human heart. I was
'- I}! in my room for days. I can never again be
happy man. The accusing image of that gift
‘ , pure, martyred girl will haunt me forever.
can never love you, Lucy, as I loved her.
ethishto make on hap§y~to dowhat is
best {flow You 8 ll deci e for us; If you
areas. edwith me as I am, I am yours. I”
, in no woman unless it be you,~m
ntle‘co n. It is for you to say if you w‘ l
u with such a wreck of a. creature as I
~ on). rlously, I advise you not to do it. You
willthrow yourself away on me. W1th your
_ youth and beauty you can do better.”
_ A great red loaf dropped down in Lucy’s lop
, . from the tree above, murmuring and complain-
ing in the autumn wind.
‘ I love you Cergl,” was her repl .

She was 100 'ng own at the le , and crush-
ing it in her rosy m, so that she did not see
the contraction his brows.

“ I tell you honestl I think
take, Luggn.‘ Weill shall no

~ mistake ‘ is in my favor. Since you trust
mound unwilling to take me as I‘em, [ask
Heaven to witness that Iwill do my best to
all}? girth: py'” in i- triu t,fro
u ys com 3 n, mphsn m
the turned pole when he saw Lucy on
the porch, her cheeks like damask roses, her
eyes like her whole figure ex receive of
trium h and Epincss, standing “do her
fia '., Heat’s mhundin e frie ' weyto
Sir Caryl; t he told flir John, a dinner,
that he must be going on the marrow; endso

he did go.
Lmy had no

on make a mis-

After that more reason to be
' jealous of her afllnnced. He won kind,nttentive,
always by her side. If she, missed the sweet
bliss of true love-makingaif- she fretted becsuse
; Caryl was sei.psle,,quiet, absent-minded, at
; lees ,shewss not jesl and she had elected
tobeersomelossrathert anlose him. ,
k The wedding-dnywasset for theilrstof De-
cember. r s -
When November came, it was so dimal and
rainy and lonesome at Crowley Park that Lucy
coaxed her, father to return to London, so
that she would rather be in the city when ‘ no-
bod» ”- was there than in the hills d
see ' weather. .Then, too, or trousuau need
looking after, and it was decided that the wed-

din should take place .91: Sir John’s town reels God will

theweddinnfifitheywerc to go to
ChflCastldtheretore v

’ Aftertheywere back in Londo . ucy had

but three weeks in which to comple her pre-

‘ ions. She was very buswa busy to

. ‘vetimeto confides whetheror not she was

doing wisely. ‘

' SirCsryl wenthozneforaoou

look after matters there. When e returned he
Wes paler, more thoughtful, than ever.

’ - Herhad learned, when he first comets Lon-

' don that Mrs. St. Cyr had been placed in pos-

ieSsion of the murdered gentleman’s property,

and had already ore-based an elegant house n

Belgravio, ed it in a style‘recommended

b the latest fashionhgnd was living therein

.t e seclusion of “ t— mourning’ ; having

easily borne down the pretensions of the “dis-

tant relative " who had set up his shadowy

‘ ‘ But heknew nothing of the patient, uncens-

ing, vigilant, secret pursuit with which snag}:-

Faye was/on the track of Madame 8t.
fastiife: neither did he know how intimately
Icons were connected with the tragedy of
St. Cyr. He only knew that 01031 ~— _at one
llWest vision of adorable womanh win h had

00m
dark Cicely, went downrto dent
Wake of that tragedy; and that he, who loved
, 1' memory a. thousand times more than all the
living women of the earth, was steadily drifting
0'11 toward his marriage With another.
‘And now, indeed, the few remaining days
that intervened before his wedding-day wourd
mselv'es {gougttgefiiieeéolfigte writclliislow, slow
on - r e rap 1 y. .
, Lucy had iivited Dolores Icon to be her
,bfldemaid. Dolores, hep y in her betth
‘0 Martin Mmhsll was 5 to accept
OWing to the d -
 was to be a‘ istone. ,
twenty people were ‘ sited to the breakfast.
,- , Bflthetmumum none, theless magnifi-
‘Mt. ‘Thehousee‘wastobscmsertedintos
,. ,Mwerefoostlr bloom. , r

was aware of a visitor who
uarrel with a. * ’

of days (to -

0
' tel satisfied his ideal-sweet if
133.; l hill.
‘ flowers in

son of the ear,'the wed- r
7 ct more than.

 

‘_ beautrhed '

The wedding—dress  over the Channel

from Paris. ' l .
Lucy, shy and blushing—~though only her
maid and Deletes-worn present in the maiden’s
chamber~tried it'on two do a before the weds
dinlg. The silvery sheen of t 49 long satin robe
inc osed her like s. rose in moonli ht. Her
white neck and shoulders shamed t e snowy
satin. Her faultless complexion; the soft bloom
of her check, the pure gold of her hair, the
violet hue of her eyes, never showed..to such
perfection before. ' . ’

“ Come! ‘ You really must go down and give
vet‘u' father and‘lo‘ver'u glimpse of you!” urged

o ores.

Lucy hung back, but finally yielded. -

Her father was in the library. He gazed on
the lovely vision with- eyes of loving admiration
sufficiently flattering to her charms.

“Where is Caryl, dear papa?”

,. “.I believe he has gone out, my pet.” ,

“ Is there any one in the drawingoroomr'

“I think not.” ' ' .

“Oh, then, Lucy," struck in Dolores, “ ou~
cangothrough the room dnd"see yoursel .es
others see you,’ in the rent mirror. Come 1”

Lucy glided into the one; drawing—room, and
had advanced half-way throu h it before she
risen from his
chair and was looking at her with flushed face
and tears springing into his eyes. .

It was Lord ,autboys. ‘ ‘

She paused in great embarrassment.

He came toward her, took her hand, kissed it,
stummered’ out that he wished her every earth-
ly go , and rushed out of the house.

‘ oo'r fellow I pity him!” murmured the
brideelect. “ Ila cannot
weddin dress.” ’ .

But s e. did not think many moments of Lord
.Heutboys ;, her thou hts rushed back to the man
she Wes to m ———t e man she sovdceply loved
~—so passionate adored, that she would not
have refused to is for him.

'When we are happy we cannot symgathine
with others’misery. ucywas radianth a py.
She had put away all misgivings. If nryl
only felt affection of a calm kind for her, at
least he would never love any other woman!
She was safe in being nearer to him thnn any
other. She would win him to love her dearly
once she was his wife.

.toseeme in my

Before she had done looking at her lovely -

ima e in the mirror she had forgotten all about
the ittle lord rushing dos iringly away in the
fog and drizzle of' the dul day-next but oneto
her wedding-day! ; ' ‘ . _ -
“ Next but one to her wedding-day?” So it was
set down, as man proposes. It still may be that
dispose otherwise. -
’ There is a man going about London this
gloom ,bri’ef day, who is knotting up the last
breeds of such a network as the netted will
struggle in vain to break through.

CHAPTER XXIII.
run BEAUTIFUL rhmnsss.

Mums Sr. Urn was sitting in the draw-
ing-room of her new residence. (2 was the after-
noon of the some day on which Lucy Crowley
tried on her wedding-drese-«n gm , drizzly
fog , uncomfortable day, the lost nt one o
the ismal month of 8c tember. .

There Was nothin d smnl or uncomfortable
about the lady or t e drawi eroom, however.
The large oblong room was h , to 9. summer
temperature on sweet with the odor of a large
plate of Englgih violets, roses and lilies oil-the-
valley. A , , inther to of polished steel in~
laid with silver, had urned down to just that
glow of solid incondescence which is the rfec~

onotafire. Itgaveowartntone to t e em-
ber—and-gold hangings and furniture, the dado
of elzomzed wood, the beautiful painted calling,
the fine ictureshand the world of dainty brie.
a-brac, utch, I lien, J a nose, with which, in
accordance to the demon of fashion, cabinets,
table shelves and brackets were crowded.

In t e in teri'ous region “below stairs " an
elaborate nner was in course of preparation;
in the dinin ~room behind the library, a butler
grey—heads ,quiet, the very persomfication of
respectabth , moved softly about, placing the
o epergne, the wax candles in the
candelabra arranging the silver and crystal,
admirin d‘screet y the new Japanese were.
The tab e was drawn into its easiest mportions
and set for only two. ' My lady musgbe expect

' a. uestto dinner, ‘ I

ems St. Cyr, sitting a. little way from the
fire in the draw! i-room——shieiding her face
from its glow wit

 

n hand-screen of Indian
carving and  deintiest pointed silk, disused
tor dinner‘end  the arrival or her guest
~49” e j ‘1 meemau. Her rich dark

out into its tunes: charm.

H i ‘ _ '  v 1

Now that her claims were conceded, the distant
relative annihilated, the St. Cyr bankncoount
passed to her credit,e.ll her care  venetian
of spirit vanished into the past, she had, leisure
to be beautiful. blot a. line of trouble marked
her smooth, low forehead, just above which, in
the (I meshes of. her silken hair r a single
costly in y burned and sparkled like the soul of
love. Her lovely arms, round and pelished as
if carved out of ivory, were here to the shoulder.
Her dress, of yellow silk covered with black
lace, was cut hi h on the shoulders and low
across the beauti ul bust,- ond clung to theslight,
full figure all the way down to the peeping slips

. per, from whence it twisted along the carpet

ikc e. shimmering snake.

Yes, Madame St. Cyr certainly looked very
beautiful, for that style of beauty. It was me,»
ture and it was not modest. '

Occasionally she could faintly beer themerry
goal of her boy’s laughter in the chamber over-

ead where he played with his good—natured
governess _ , . , '

It seemed as if she " had everything, in tho
world to complete her pleasure and happiness,
exaept frien 8:
very soon. Wealth would buy flatterers. , Her
own charmsnhould win her a o‘vor. _

“I must, I will win him ewe from i;th
slip of a Igirl,” she said to horse] . ,“I 
him, and willyhave high!” . _ ‘

She was thinking of [artin Masshall. ‘ '

.“ I have found who she is——-the do
ruined merchant. She will have to were of
me! . I have won the game, so far,'e.nd I hitmd‘
to bring tilgils about, with the $88. If I mm
a res c e manage, now 111 
be wipe d out. I must many’Mr.  ’ ‘

“ . Jeimin makes himself very _ ‘ ' _ .
able. Ho woul like to bully me into marr '

know encililgh to be afraid of me. ‘ Let him loch:
out-4t wi be dangerous for him to interfere in
my plans. If he is not satisfied with his, two
thousand pounds he will lose all.

this dress? Yellow is the mourning color 0!
some countries; it is enough ,for me to wear
black in public. At home, when he is coming!
I must gratify mytaste now and .then. Ah,
hear some one in the hell. 1 He must 1:39le
Sole tool , pg . ,
The loom of her cheek  the din-i
mond light of her liquid eyes  ghtened no she
glanced toward the opening door; but both.

fairly , wpale._with suppressed  u a“
server: announced: ' ' I
“Mr. Jennings.” , _ j 
The whilom parish, {-clerk came torwerd with"
a 'eunty air. ‘ '

diamonds at his wrists and on b bosom. It
was evident. his fortunes had changed.

“How gorgeously madame ( _ , ,
up,”he remarked, with impertin nt alteration,
“ She’s a stunner, no, mistskcl Ten to one, Maw
dame St. Cvr. you are expecting a
that young West Indian.” ‘ ‘ ,

“ I certainly do expect him to dine with me.
Did I not tell you, Mr. Jennings, that I 

. not be at, liberty-to attend to any business- to-

dnyi~thet I had an engagement? - . I

‘Just  I come, for that, v '

see who our engagement was wi

deny the I an: jealous of this other fellow. ' ‘I’

_ must ask $11,131y dear madame, to drop hung:
In L _

M"313 "33” I do t a and; you," so
‘ in my. noun-ere r .
Jennings,"withndisdeiniul smile. ~ I _

 

lead to :11th you have allowed me tounder‘

? would marry me. I trust you do not intbnd
i go back on your word.” ‘ ‘

misunde me: I never had a thought of
marriage with you. I have pgid you two
thousand ads for your services," and consider
the debt discharged.

not so easil gotten rid of! Youw marry me
or I will blgw the whole affair." . ,

smile as she answered:

; "And get ymirself intoh prison for forgery;

nucleonspiracy to defraud; put yourself out of
all future benefits; make ourseif poor es 3
churchmouse again. Flo: ~ reasonable, Mr.
Mulligan. _ Iain willin to assure you a small

annuity. or to add to t. 9 sum I have shrouds“  

id yew—but I am not and never will be will-
: to marry you. If you compelled me to it; I

25';

 

 

and she meant to hevo them, ‘

hm 

him.’ Mr. Jennings is an idiot. He ought to‘

“ I wonder how Mr. Marshall will like me in .

adcd more quickly thenpthey had come  m " . 

e was dressed quite foppishl , and wmi
has ttenhenel!‘

visit 

. tov
Ida not: '
H D , 
“ng was my expression, madame—short. '

‘_‘ I mean, that I consider that you are pincer .
stand that, if we came out succcmful. yo: , ,

“I more, on, sir. you must have entirely

“You are very cool about it, unfilledle 1’an ~ ‘

He breathed hard and looked dangerous; but;
the bendsome lady showed her whitetceth in n.


3
s
7!
.l
“i


 

 

 

‘5 abstinence, until

 

should he a perfect shrew and scratch yOur e es
an: Be mfiugble, anydefi sir.  nvx‘irt ‘Egl
goose t a ys e on . ew l
be friends, and I wifiofind aegetty young
wi e for you who will not scra h out your
eyes. Don’t ou think; on the whole, that will
be best, Mr. curling:n
' She smiled upon with such perfect self-
‘on that he could only grin in return,
with rage, half with admiration.

{‘ Think it over,” she cried, yly; “ think it
over and come to-morrow an announce your
cope on. And now, farewell for today my
friend, I expect Mr. Marshall any momen .”

“You will never land that fish he answered
heat itefullyégnd £13m sake]: dgdhncgi to
in man ey , o e 1; row
from house with a eggr on his face, and a
feeling that his power over his beautiful con
dantcwasnotso atashehadmeantitto
after all: He con d onl ruin her fortunes by
ruining  own; and, or that, hewas hardly

As he went down the ste he met oun
flarshall going up; but be 1155 this to cgnso e
- “comm” “£33” Wt‘fin‘fi“ Em‘mt‘é" “"3
gen an no or e t. .

This was true. cyr

, He came to her house unwillin ly, for he was
emanced to Dolores, and would we preferred
being with her.

Madame St. Cyr received him with blushes


’_"I wanted youtoseem house "she said as
its shook. hands with big. “I’have so ew
friends to take an interest in me and mine. One
cannot enjoy a beautiful home all alone. Come!
I will take you Over the house—there are a few
moments before dinner to spare—and you shall
admire or criticise as you feel disposed." .
~“ There is little to criticise,” he' answered,
ding about him. “Let me congratulate

I heartily, Mrs. St.’ Cyr, on this elegant
I hope (you have now arrived at such
tranquillity an

«m... a. . ._.- -~_..._......F. .. ... ... .. _ _.. .- m-..

, enjoyment as have‘not been
“at.” some t. m... h
r _ ' ea as e mum »
thanks fogrhis es. °r
 ,ifonewerenotsolone-

“You have your child—is he will”
“Very well. 1 have winked him he shall
you at dessert. The y worships you, Mr.
V - —4 ouhave stolen his heart com lately
 you so his We,” she adch in a

whisper. .
; Startin started and blushed; but the diamond
eyes Iliad veiled themselves under the long,
curhng lashes, and he was not certain that he
initiated“ its” usi a r

w on n em o-room an m
dame ran her slim fingers over the keys of the

newlpiano.

szvgish h not call me ‘madanze,’”
c arm g‘pettishness as she look-

cd‘ in his from her rob oh the piano-

, ‘1?
steel. 'f‘ It makes me feel ' e an old woman.
Surely, we are good friends enough to warrant

callinfmeJuliet. Y, .
“When was ontoohakindinterest

P097
Vinme;now I am ricb you arenot going to
we are'goodffiends

are you?"
good frlmtdag bopaedded l f h
M an e warm or t e
(la-k eyes looking up at him w’ere, for’the time
rresistible.

“ you are ever in any trouble, or need
my or'any aid I can givetigu,l you will
to ma will you noti”-—. ow voice
humbledan (tears glittered on the dark eye-
lashes- then, as if to conceal her emotion, she

dashed on one of Strau’s waltzes.
Before she had finished the waltz, dinnerwas

announ _
" ‘It was a dinner of many courses, with a new
wine for each course, which his handsome host-
ess urged her visitor to try, rallying him on his
Martin had drunk many more
glasses than he was accustomed to. His brain
A was not quite stead when they returned to the
drawing-room at n no o’clock. It was the de-
liberate of the enchantress to have it
so, in the hope that he might say somethin to
herwhich she could bring up afterward, as he
had proposed to her and she had accepted him.
Madame felt veryhappy and leasant. It ap-
to her that evening, t t Providence
forgotten that she was so bad-had ignored
the evil of her life, and was going to smile upon
her in its of it.
Had deuce forgotten her wickedneml
There was a ring at the door-bell. Her new
,fooitgiaucametnwith acard onasalver. A
; homel’z’thishm “33"”: W m as" " 3’ ° 7”” ‘l

(I

 

 

“LOCK’E‘P‘ .

 

 

 “I know it, mum, but the gentleman insisted
so, there was no gettin rid 0’ him, mum."

She took up the , smiling, and looked at
it with some curiosit ——‘f CAPTAIN Fan.”

“I do not know he ntleman,” she mur‘
mured. Her flushed chee lost some of their
color and she appeared startled.

She remembered that she had accused this
Captain Faye’s. young daughter of murder, and
she did not care to face the man.

“ Tell him I am on god!” she said.

“ That will not 0, madame,” said a firm
voice, and, looking up, she saw that a tall mili-
tary gentleman had entered unbidden.

Behind him—like mummers at a masquerade
—-glided a dozen others silently—men and
men, who stood and looked at her. _

CHAPTER XXIV.
m! arenas AN anv’sm'onnss m m racn.
“ Manama Sr. Cm turned ve pale.

On the contrary, ' hall blushed
deeply—for he saw some whom he knew in that
silent company135

He arose to feet, staring and wondering.

The strange visitors formed a semicirol
about Madame St. Cyr.

The military gentleman stood before her, tall,
threatening-there was something in the lit-
tering e es with which he held her from w ch
she con (1 no more break than the weddin -
guest from that of the Ancient Mariner. thong

or heart tbum
took hold of bra and son

Still she strove for self-gossession. With a
desperate eflort she tore er eyes from the
steely ones which held them, forcing a mocking
smile as she looked about on the intruders. .

“ Is it what they call a 81 rise?” she asked,
but her tunes were husky an broken.

“ I came to give you the sketch of a woman’s
life, madame. It may weary you, but you must
bear it out. The name of this woman was—and
is—Juliet Fleury; her country, France; her
parents, a Parisian grisette and, an English
gambler. For the past few ears, oil and on,

e was the dissolute compan on of Harley St.
Cg. She never was his wife.” _

eremadame threw up her hand in remon
strance, but the firm voice of the captain went
on uninterruptedly: .

“ By some means she came into on of
the facts that his uncle in the Indies was
rich, in poor health, and that St. would be
his heir. She then tried to persua e the man,
whose mistress she had so longabeen, to marry
her. He refused. He even ughed at her.
Juliet F1 was not amiable an she was re—
vengeful. he was ambitious, too. She formed
a plan to murder her lover and come forth as
his wife when the uncle died. The plan showed
cunning. She went first to a country church
remote from the place where St. Cyr was and-
set that church on fire.” -

A violent wave of color rushed ovor the ma.
dame’s handsome face: she stamped her foot
and sent forth two little words from between
her clenched teeth:

" You lie I”

“ Her obzgcstt was, to burn the records, so that
when she. ified to having been married in
that church, there would be no peeslbilit-y of
disprovin her statement, the clergyman W cm
she sta had performed the ceremony being

dead. .
“ Unfortunatel ’for herself she dropped her
1d pencil-case yin the church-yard. in the
y of that pencil-case was one of”8t. Cyr’s

 

notes, refusing her odor of marriage.

Here the itiless' narrator paused for a few
seconds, as even he was moved by the sight
of the green and livid hue which crept over the

on: .
“ From that church in Cresswell which she
left in ruins, she went straight to Clifl villa ,
in the vicinity of Cliff Castle, where st. r
had no for a few days. She amved in e
nigh , kept herself out of sight of poo lo, and,
in the morning, sought the beach w ere her
lover was in the habit of walking. ‘
“ She found him there, approached‘him rapid-
ly from ind, fired the fatal shot and fled.
“Thereare always weak points in the best
laid plans of criminals. A weak point in this
Julie Fleury’s plan was the hiring of an old
fisherman on the beach to take her in his boat
to :1 int where she could meet the little steam-g
or w ’ch touched at the port below. She did not
cease her flight until her. foot touched an
Afime Wigg it l(timid, ten days later. In
t e n ~ 9 y perdu, awn: a
 when it would hassle to a ‘ inmghls

coun withall'thca . , o  been
the. Atlantic  the foul  was
one. . ~ v “

 

wildly and a deadly chill,

“ with one glance of

beautiful features before him; but he soon went ,

 

831d  her.

 

‘.

 

“She knew very well, that a yonn "lady .
pure as‘the lil that bloom in Eden, hagd heed
suspected and accused of the murder. Did she
pity this innocent victim of her  crimes,
whose heart was wrung, whose reason tattered,
under the crushin knowledge that she Was ac-
cused? No. Rat , she is bed in her sleeve
at those circumstances which hreatened the in-
nocent since thus her own saf was the more
assured. To cxlnlllirder goyoun th1 inmind, snot:

respects, an o wrec e happiness .
2 family, did not plate her quail who

lanned
and committed the assassin’s deed whi killed

the man she had professed to love.

“ Again it came to the thought of this Juliet
Fleury, w on she saw that her wicked hopes
were in a fair way of bein realized, that it
might be dangerous to leave a ive the kindly old
fisherman who had taken her in his boat that
morning of St. I r’s death. 80, she steals back
in the nigh not ongisago, and ate an eternal
quictus on im: he ound sad in his bed;

, and again, the band of a just Providence silent-
l interferes, and she leavos on the floor beside
the h2g3: be? cane poor amen-added?
man, we youreco ma ame

He held out the little ornament in the full
light of he bxfihtly illuminated room. The
fascina gaze the unhappy woman turned
slowly from his eyes to the Jewel.

The green tinge on her face had settled into
an ashen y. Involuntarin she put up \her
white hen to her mouth as if torepress the
shriek that faintly gurgled forth. .

“ I need not go into an elaborate d
demo, of all the armofioed b this /
turesstosecureher , onthe tCyresta
for herself and child. I willonly mention the
—fearing the destruction of the marriage
would be too non-
employed a Jennings, of Cromwell—a
clerk, well-fitted, by his talents as a coptyeist, for
the task—to doctor a scorched and smo black-
ened pageto :fk the chromite in suchfa man—
ner as m e appear. acunnmg
of a record of a. marriage which neva
Rises. This Jennings is already under arrest.

e parti gs will appear

man

culars of these smell thm
when Juliet Fleury is tried for murder.”
Almost before he ceased, the false madame,
despair at the motionless
figures about her cast herself down on the car-
' at his feetan  his knees,lifted up a
. noun! tenan‘oei a): mm'mured: :
. mere - . or mere , ,
Faye! ! I amybut a swank, 
man, after all! Do’not let them an in
son! Do not let. them hang me‘ipuoh, my
do not set the officers on me! I will away.
Iwillnevermorebe seen. I will 16 avgood
life—will never again harm somuch use. worm.
Iwillgotothenunsandlearnto become hol ,
as they are. Have mercy on me, good Cap
Faye! and he shuddered woefully. .:
‘ I m' ht have shown vou an unwamntable
mercy-— or my heart isfull of chivalry for the
sex you have (1 --but you showedrnone
for :3 poor ch d. Nay, y! not'aword!
Do pity the pitilem. .  is worse
than the worst man, and she must endure the
penalty she has brought it herself. I might
aswe loosenatigcras ve her the powerto
go on labor ways. .
He uncla her clinging arms from his knees
and but she crawled 813:? the
floor an crouched at his feet, moaning beg--

gin : '
‘SSive me time toget away! Let me fig! Do
.notlet the oficers get holdot me! Ah! shall
be hanged f"
“Father, if she will really go into a ‘nunncry
will you not let her go?” '
Cicely stood b her
hands. Tears f down from her sweet “e
ovor her pale, lovely face. '
A pair of eager, burning, . to eyes
watc ed her every look and mo ' n—th‘e eyes of
Sir Caryl Crossley, summoned by the indignant
captain to witness the vindication of his darling
daughter. A torrent of long-restrained love
rushed over that re ntant heart—a sense of his
cruelty to Cicely, his ceaseless ealousy and bit-
ter accusations—until it seem to him that he

would die unless be poured out'his confession at

her feet and won her to look at him with kind /

eyes. He forgot that he was almost a married
mam—that to-morrow he was to stand before
the altar with his blue-eyed cousin, who even
now was wondering as she waited for him at his
going absenoeontheevening pmcedingthebridal
y. _ , r _
Cicely quite herself—Cicel , entirely vindi-
cated—Cicely ten thousand t mes more beautir
fol than ever, stood there before him,whilawthe
keen . of all- the’hateful things he had

,‘j.’

V311. '

father, had held of m.‘

00811130111”.st his“.

 

record .
tive in its character she



 

‘{ a; I" r m, » -¢'*'—.

 

 

/

 

§L

, a tide which forced. him tocatcn ms create.

“ One more thiEEI‘have‘to say to you, Juliet

m6 ,9 cont-inn the tain to the '
engroatliia feet; “ ongaigore thin , beg:
bring in the oillcers who wait outsi e on your
doorstep;lc Harley St. Cyr assured you—in that
note w ' h you carried about with you in
your pencil-msea-that he had married. That
ltatemont of his was true. Perhaps you al-
read know it. He beguiled a mere school-

811‘1 to a scent marriage, she being heiress to

{great fortune. But, her father lost the splen-

dl fortune St. Cyr coveted and he never

Claimed his girlish bride. Nevertheless, she

was his logal wife, and is now heir to the estate,

or her-third of it, which you have appropriated.

I would fain respect her delicacy and join with

her in keeping her ill~starred romance from the

world; but the full vindication of my own
daughter demands that I proclaim the truth.

My poor Cicely’s faithful, heroic friendship for

her scheolmate en ed her in a seeming inti-

macy with St. Cyr, w om she despised. Senor

Leon,”—turning courteously to that gentleman,

who was one of the group—“ you cannot blame

me for declaring your daughter's marriage.

since thus only can make the full innocence of
lay own dear girl appear

‘ Dolores has to! me eve hing "murmured

, Loon, “and I can only .won er at ' Cicely‘s

nee. If I had known of it, believe

me, Ca tain Fa e, I should long ago have

, thetd'ut tothe ht however myown
feelings may have suffe . ank Heaven it

no worse! Thank Heaven the scoundrel is
dead, and that my child still has a respect of
happiness? He looked over at 'u as he'ut-

“T9: the In“ two B:lnwnces'th bl bored

a young gen emau, oroug y so
23 the tragic nature of his surroundin , walk»
over to where Dolores and her fat er were
den ing, raised the slim hand of his betrothed
to lips and kissed it.

The wild, imploring eyes of the woman a!
Whose feast he had eat that night followed him
uhemovedau andtooknoteofthele action
Therewere kringsgatherlngabout' crown
eyes-eover them wasuooming the film of an
egony that‘had better have been death; but, as
:11;me m makes fin iri offer? to

so gging to or

an]? finolom’ mi “id:de 1 1::
, w on oy o in over

St. Cyr. Iyshalljnot neediim after I am hang-

edrand-—and, he Will get the money either
guy!» It is well to have two strings to one’s

W. '- '

'“ You  but harmless, madam,”
mid Captain Faye. “ And now, you, manthere
at the door, bring our mistress a cloak, else
a: will fshiver, .wigsbi ’txh‘iose 6sl’i’euldem, on

we. ‘ prison, 3 ny mg .
'Atthese sternwordsmadameshrunkand
baled and shuddered, in her fiwels and her
gleaming satin dress, like a lig t in a golden
candlestickth iswavering to extinction. It
was pitiful—11106me to see her;thou h she
was wicked to core and oflensive the
mere! sense—she was still a woman, young,
handsome and so utterly helpless in her down-
fall that a to their compassion.

“ 0h,” have some mercy u n_ me,” she cried
“Shin. “Tell me! do the 0 core of the law yet
know of my crime! Ah! if you have not yet

ounced me. five me some chance I"

“ You PVB ley St. Cyr no chance to save

“Let me ,go~from this house alone, in the
night, without a dollar, without a friend. Let
lye run thzégantlet on the bare chance of my
me. Of use they will find inc—the police
WIll soon huntme down. Give me that small

oe. Have mercy upon me!” .
m“Yfiou had no mercy on the poor old fisher-
- an.

“Ah, my God! what a heart of stone you

have! You speak for moi—you tell him—~he is

Our father and will listen to you—how shame:

111 it will be to hang a woman: He will never
Sleep soundly after he has done that. . Tell him
S0“you—you—you! You pit me, Miss Faye, I
896 it in our eyes. You w' speak for me "—
"“ e was own at Cicely’s feet, her wan face hid-

linthe 'l’spurerobes. .

"Father faltered Cicely, “let her go. Re-
member w at the New Testament sava—‘Ven-
8331100 is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord:’ ”

God bless you,” murmured the woman at
her feet-“God give you the dearest wish of
ymlrheart!”

cm to th kindlin
er' eves e eager, g
“03% Sir Caryl. Then she droppedthem, for
MWa tnessinhisregardwhichwas:
“bearable. didnotforxet. thouxhhe did.

Cicely, as she heard these,

 THE LOCKED HEART. «

thathewastobemarried to his cousin on the
morrow. .

Captain Fa ‘s stern countenance changed as

(tlhe math 'sinner continued to cling to his
a r.

‘, have norl ht to counive at your-escape,
woman," he sai “ But you shall not be taken
$13 in the rainy night in hat dress. Go, change

Madame started to her feet and hurried from

0 room.
“a; Are you doing right, captain!” queried the
or.

“ 0h, tyes! pa. ht," hastily answered
Cicely, or her ather. on she stood there for
the next few moments Elancing do so as not
to meet the look which ir Caryl sti fixed on
her—that intense look of longing, remorse, joy,

' love strangely blended in one flaming ray.

“ oil the madame to come down, ” ordered
the captain, of a stating servant, after three or
four minutes had elapsed.

The madame was not in the house. .

None of those who had intruded on her lease

> ant drawing-room, expected that she wo d be
in the house. . '
F “ Call a police-officer,” thundered Captain
ave.
m3“ “if?” mini: “3%.???”
eury, e ven muc c or
her miserable life. mess,

On going to the door the gentlemen found
that she had well improved her 0 firtunity—
chainsaw when“ his}. :d“’*~"‘“‘€3

, one ' e u 'tive
take her more rapidly from the icons 0 her dis-
oomflture and deadly danger.

CHAPTER XXV.
ens WAY rm smut rr.
LUCY was alone in her father’s library wait-
ing the return of Sir Caryl. Her slee y blue
eyes were drowsed under den lashes, or fair
head bent on one lily han : her heart beat to a
low sweet music 0 its own. She was weary
with the excitement of the day, but she was
hagpy. t . afterlong sorenem of heart
an many woundmgs of vstirit, she had settled
down to the pleasant con ction that Caryl was
in th to lovte, herihfigahadtllnleen kinder to her
ese swee sw at receded the
wedding-day. ya p
She was faintly smilin over thoughts of what
he had said to her in he morning, dreamily
wondering what kept him out so late, and 8166px
ii musing over memories of the. becomingness
o the bridal dress, when she heard the slumber-
tungmmanl. in thohall arouse himself to admit
r ‘ .
Lucgesatu erect and rubbed her eyes; the
Color w to or fair cheeks and a happy smile
to her lips, as her betrothed came into the li-
w, pauscd in the middle of the floor, and
and looked at her. .

h'I'hgn an efclamatiiolili ugly terror broke from

er, or was g ale and had the
distrau high of a madman, Bis hair clung to
his fore ead wet with the dew of sun‘ering.

“Tomorrow we are to be married, are we
not, Lucy?”

“Yes, dear Caryl. Oh, what is the matter
with out You frighten me.”

“ ore is nothing the matter with me, cousin.
Do I look asif therowasi Thatis not at
for I witnemed an exciting scene to-nig t.
They have discovered the true murderess of St.
Cyr and I saw her. Who do, you think it is?”

“ hot—not—Miss Faye?”

“Miss Faye! Cicely Faye! that angel from
Heaven! Take care what you say, Lucy! That
child has been cruellym —oh, how wrong-
ly, how cruelly suspected! It was that impos-
tor who set up to be his wife who t possession
of his property—that Frenc ma ame. Luc ,
you must have a strangely suspicious mind
think of Miss Faye—”

“ It was on who taught me to suspect her.”
cried poor ucy. “ And now that you find she
is innoceng, I suppose yotzo an? in lmriaflcdthl filler
again, an to me ree you an e
burst into tearsm'pn‘e

“Lucy! Wh do youtalk so! Why do you—”

“Because it a true, and you cannot deny it!
You are wretched, now, because you cannot
marry your ‘angel from Heaven). You come
to me, you show me your pale unhappy face,
you let me see what is in your thoughts. You
might better ask me at ‘ once to break oif with

on. I'm sure I don’t want to'marry you if you

on’t want me to!” another flood of tears.

“ I have always confessed that you was not
myfimtchoicaLucy. ButIshallbeagood
husband to you. I am a man of or—-—”

“You aramt, cousin Caryl. You .did not

 

 

treat Hi: We honorably—eye‘s have not treat-

6

as ’andsomeadayto be

‘adoredth

 

 

,27

ed me honorably. You have made bothmof us:
wiser-$19.1 ‘ {or on'e, have been a foolflong
enou not ma on now ‘ on.

8 urkneeglaynd ’ 3 y

etdownon meto.’
g“Ii’.istoo forsuchtaibgg'umamydear

cousin—” -

“ No, thank it is not too late! This time
tomorrow it woul have been. Now, if I ever-
marry a man, he will have to tease me harder
than ever gen have done, cousin! 1' will wed
the man w o loves me, rather than the meal
love. Keep our white face, and your woe-be-
gone aspect or some other bride. I will not
consent to make you in e.”

There was a flash of fire from a pair of blue
eyes, a lovely. flushed face shone before him an
instant and was gone. .

“ I never dreamed she had so much spirit!
But, she will be all over her resentment in‘
the morning, and read to kiss me in greetin .
Poor Lucy! it is true have treated you as
there were no honor in me. And Cicely! ah,
great Heaven! I see no way out of this'trouhlo
but to cut my own throat.’

He stumbled upstairs to his room “with an ex-
pression on his countenance which would have
alarmed his friemk, had there been any preemt

see. . i
‘ No sleep was to him that ht, but, more
than once,apistolwaspremedto istempleand
his hand toys: with the trigger.

However, ylight came, and Sir Carylwas
not Iyet a suicide. Then he put away the m-

n e had not been rash enough to use, flung

mself on the bed and fell into a sort of s r.
wiltxaa couple of hours his servant aroused

“Timeto dress, sir. .Rain clearedawa and
ed in. Sir yl.
aseveralordcouldwish. ’ ‘sabit o’break~
fastan’acupo’stron tea to keep youup till
thew l’shEa-g theadn” dhis dimand

I . was , an oyes

hlmot. Hedrank teaandtookacold
batgaafter which he did not appear quite so
am likeasickmanoradissipated‘one. '

The omcious valet, all smiles and ales-tries,

his master for. the important occasion,

x.

dressed . ,
wondering inwardly, at the bridegroom's indif-

ference to, his toilet.
reallymalre- her threat of
ti Caryl not behave it;
gaveagreat throb ache,
atmmsgoutmtothecafidormowtht
in roomsbelow. , . '
HefoundSir John,in high spiritual)“ rest»

' lesawwinderingaboutfromroomtoroom.

“ ,how m be ! Bios-m
soul! 
haronetlaughed good-nataredl‘ y

edaquartertoeleven. .

Lucy hadgotten over her anger; for all the
preparations were going on; and now the car
riages stood before the door, and therewas a.
soft rustle of.satin on the stain; and down

its cwn misery, e looked upon her «

as
and he wentupto her and kissedher 

cheekwhileshe vehimnfainustrsngemile.
/ Theinvitedgugtswereto gohomtghurchfim
9

i
d
a
i
i?
g
V

“fight-rick Caryl that it was hard! in

making him a witness to his nval’s «
ness (1) He made no remark, however, ,
Hautboys’ elegant eqm took its place in the
little procession which w irled rapid! away,
and soon drew up before the fashions. e church
of the neighborhood. . '

taste to torment the unfortunate  e‘ lo b
3% this

Sir Caryl (ghrew colder and whiter as the'car- .

ridge inwhi

he was stopped before the church
doors.

When he entered the vestibule the bride’s "

party was already there, having arrived a few
moments earlier.

Summou' all his co Sir Caryl lanced
again at the ride. He di not knowt t she
had the possibilitfi of blossoming into such
splendid beaut . ‘ or eyes were he sun-eon-
fronting sapp her cheeks softly colored be
whole ressiou modest and grave but full'of'
spirit a animation. ’

is sweet '
groom, as he approached or.

“If Iliad not loved Cicelyflrst I mfit'have
” thought hride- g

agetothehridegroombeforethe
slowhandsoftheclocke aboutthe homestead»~

 

Ma. n-» n .m . ..

.. “no... maul. .

 

 

vi‘

5

 

 

 

v l-nor shy but himself and this friend.

I ' under his breath, “ Thank God!

‘ gossip, and even scandal, so

' in love with each other for some time—that the
.lady had wearied of her engagement to her

' successfully carried out.

. heroine w th two devoted ’lovers, one 0! whom
,was exercised over the conduct of
', over the strange termination to the St. Cyr

I den, and over in Paris. in search of the artful

marriage ‘ with Seller 

, wear out the. most wonderful ‘ wonder.
‘ time will do. -_
mad retired to Cliff Castle in brood over his dis-

. out in Bomn’s BOWer hours at a time.

- ,, ed into that rich beauty 0! which the place was
" capable in cuminer.

, across the muslin window-are

church Sir Caryl started and began totrem-
ble. Captain Faye and his daughter had come
to witness this’marria e.
. He stoodstock-stil ; his eyes were on the
afoment; it seemed to him as it this world and
be things thereof were all ping away from
him—he remained in a sort 0 trance.

“Comel” said some one in a cheerful Voice
taking him by the elbow, “comel or you will
die too-late to witness the ceremony.”

It. was one of the relatives who thus urged
iim. He started from his dream, looking wildly
about him. Lucy was not there—nor Sir-John

“ Where are they i” .he murmured, not half
comprehending.

“The have all gone up to the altar. As
seen as be music ceases the ceremony will com-
mence.”

“ What ceremony? Where is Lucy i”

The grander an ceased to roll forth the sweet
measure of the .edding March, and the friend
made answer: ,

“Being married to Lord Hautboys.”

Sir Caril stared as if hiseyes would come

outer his end. , .
, “Did fi‘ou not know?” asked the relative, puz-
zled. “ be change in the‘programme was an—
nounced at the house an hour before we left.
Has she given youthe mitten, old boy 9”

“Yes, answered Sir Caryl, ’ioudiy, adding,

 

The Court Circular ventured to print a spicy
comment on Miss Crossley’s “ change of heart.”
There was not lacking the usual speculation,
leasant when
anything occurs out of the usua run of human
events; but the opinon finally settled upon ands
maintained b the majority w that Lord
Hautboys an Lucy Crossley had on madly

cousin and told him so alter the cards were out,
when he magnanimously yielded up his claims,
helping her to'l'orm the little plot by which the
worldwas to be surprised, and which was so

Lord and Lady Hautboys Went to Italy for
the winter. Sir Caryl was pitiedand laughed
at. He bore up bravely under his embarrass-
ments: and it may be that he uietly gave to

ip the turn it finally took, w lch made him

err‘ dlsap' inted one and his fair cousin a

she‘was obliged, of course, to throw over.

' At the sometime that the fashion ble world
ucy the
tendon, and of England, too fashions
rised an excited

whole of
ableor otherwise, was '
murder affair. .

Oflcers were out in every part of the king.

and wicked adventurous who had come so near
to a glittering success, only to be, driven to
flight and concealment and utter rain; but noth-
ing was discovered tobetray her hidingplace.
The whole terrible romance was augmented in
its interest by the fact 0: 8t. Oyr’a clandestine
’ ’s beautiful youn

daughter, who had, now, really ainst her wil ,
thrust into her hands her third her dead hus-
band’s let a fortune. - , '

These t use furnished talk for more than the
traditional nine days which are supposed to

Winter and spring lied on, as all seasons of

It was understood that Sir Caryl Crossley

uppointment in love.

Sir Caryl Was indeed at the castle, living the
life of a hermit, having no amusement other
than pacing the sea-sands or lying stretched

Meantime, the Rookery. not far away, bloom~

Again a full moon flooded the rose-scented pi-
azza With the sglendor of its June radiance.
June lilies and ‘oneysuckles blent their odors
with that 01 the roses. Again the sound of the

lanoand merry voices came from the rooms of

e Rookery, and the shadows of difincegs tell
ry; or a -
nesl had returned to the afllic bousehol Ila
knowing the shadow had fallen from their
darling and left her brighter, better, sweeter,
lovelier‘ than hetero. » ’ ‘

Again, in aisoft white dress. with a red rose

per 00 01'
, celpt dis: cents. per number.

 

'twined in her am locks, Cicelypae‘sd the
,moeulitveranda—dotaloneu Someonewelked'

\ l,
l

THE LOCKED HEART.

by her side, with eager face bent down to hers

and quick, leading, earnest Wordsysuch as no
‘woman can listen to unmoved, pouring their
passionate meaning in her ear.

Cicely looked up with a bewitchlng smile-—

“ You are sure-absolutely suremt’hat you
will never again be unreasonably jealous?”

“I swear it. Cicely. Never, never! I have
had my lesson."

“Then I cannot refusa to forgive you.”

“ Nor to love me, Cicely?” ,
“ I may learn to love you again, by slow de-
grees. Mind! [do not promise!” stil with the

teasing smile, which was changed to a rosy.

blush as she found herself caught and held to a
loud—throbbing heart.

“Do not give me a chance to doubt you
again. dear Cicely. We have been miserable
long enough; let us be happy now. Be my
wife, darling. as soon as ever it can be. Do not
keep me waiting for a grand wedding. My
castle is in order, and you can come and be its
sweet mistress some summer day not far away.
I am as impatient as ever, I fear. Yet, truly,
Cicely, I will be gentle and tender as man can

, be when you are my wife.”

 

Well, Lord Hautboys’s unselfish devotion had
its reward!

Lady Hautboys grew so fond of her husband
that she could meet her cousin Caryl, when he
birogight his wife to see her, without a blush "or
s g . r
“I can never thank you enough for making
me angry with you, cousin," she whispered him
in an aside: “ I am the happiest woman in the
world I” _

“And I am the happiest man, Luc ” and
Lady Cicely, seeing them with asecret tween
them, looked over at the two and smiled.

THE. END.

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mom um ADAHS, as WILLIAM 315mm. it. 2..

 

 

 

 

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A Sad 8 Poetry Run Mad, ,
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A Tragfi: Story, ntiflc Lectures
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July Oration The Sheemaker, -
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.r

 

 

' me

  

 

 

LOGUE no. 29. I

 

m went, 98 Main srmr, r. Y. D
1 General/Dime Book Publishers.

m

 

 

 

 

In

“ n—Egowmbmn
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'Pre “Eliest
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mmfe Goren.

 

The comm Man.
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JohnTho ‘sDeI
v meg-*3“ { ‘

House
It In Not Your

Diane Juvenile Speaker. No. 9.

 

 

gag Logl ,othebate,

_ r «Debate.
MaximstoOhserve, v

The Preliminary
Order or Argmnent,
Summary

The Organizatio
Order of Busixlil’ees and

The «ana'tlfie How it '

can
The “Question.” How to

two Bodies. Conven-

 

tions “ Annual or
era! Asseuibiies

 

 Motions,
The Due Order of Con-

siderin cations,
m 3 Qt!

lghjecti of’a Committee.

Their Powers, ,
ow Named,

When Notto Sit,

Rigs of Order and PM'.

11

How to \

The 033.3% at tbn

imam

Treatment, of

The Decorum of Delilah

Hints to a}

Iva-:1)an

Debate in full:
Which is‘ the GM

 

.1

r

A Bo ’s Philoso y, How the Raven Became
Hoe t Your w, Black, 1,
Six-YearoOld‘s Protest, A Mother‘s Work,
The Suicidal Cat, e Same,
A Valediction, Who Rules,
P0p$ilalg Corn, A Sheep Story,
The tor, A Little Correspondent, ,
' The Same, in rhyme, 011er Turn Deserves :
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, I’ll ever Use Tobacco,
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Shmeaflan Scholar. Mercy, , - t
A en’s Psalm 0: Lite, Choice of Bout-as“ . V
A Mixture, Poor Richard‘s '
Plea for Skates, Who Killed Tom ,
Pinyin Bali, Nothing to Do
Honesty Best Talley,
Live for Something Heaven,
Lay of the Hon Peched, no. for the Fields,
The tside , Fashion on Ihe Brain.
Wolf and Lamb, On Shanghais,
$3213.? 1' King 852%
.‘ or 0
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gauntryéavgd Town Mice, Nose has, 
u an omen“
Home, A hundred ‘ Years to.
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A Bab ‘s Soliloquy, Snufliee on Electrldty,
Regen The Two en, ‘
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Dime Spread-Eagle Speaker. No. 1.0.
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Josh p‘seflvicet, “ Woman’s Rights,,
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he Sq . ack S rats,
Noah and the Devil, New gland
A Lover's Luck The An ent Bachelor
gifalutin m h be, Jacob Inning: Speech.
gestion cates,
Diatinction's Disedvent- A Word v3.1? Sn
mit (ages, But Love
G Bendibus, A Mule ~
A Stock of NotimfiI Josh Billings on
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lumeigswm, mammal
‘s , ‘,
83% Dem em AM new. *
en rs,
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e am
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_ The Itching elm, American Ensign.

 

 

 

 

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career of J. B. Hikok. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
, 4 The Prairie Ranch; or, The Young Cattle Herders. By Joe.
E. Badger, Jr. . - 5
5 Texas Jack, the Must Klnf. Thrilling Adventures in
the Life of J. B. Omohundro, “ exas ack.” By Col. P. Ingraham.
3 Cruise of the Plyaway; or, Yankee Boys in Ceylon. By C.
Dunning Clark. .
7 Roving Joe: The History of a Young “ Border Radian.” Brief
Scenes from the Life of Joseph  Badger, Jr. By A. H. Post. _
' 8 The Plyaway Afloat: or, Yankee Boys ’Round the World.
{ By C. Dunning Clark. I

{Q Bruin Adams, Old Grizzly Adams’ Boy Pal-d. By
Col. Prentiss Ingraham. \

10 The Snow Trail; or, The Boy Hunters of Fur-Land. A Narra.
tive of Sport and Life around Lake Winnipeg. By '1‘. C. Harbaugh.

11 Old Grizzly Adams. the Bear Tamer: or, The Monarch of
the Mountain. By Dr. Frank Powell. ‘

12 Woods and Waters; or, The Exploits of the Littleton Gun
Club. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

‘3 A Rolling Stone: Incidents in the Career on sea and Land as

w Boy and Man, of Col. Prentiss Ingraham. By Prot,Wm. R. Eyster.

14 Adrift on the Prairie, and Amateur Hunters on the
Bufi'alo Range. By 011 Coomes. V .

15 Kit Carson. King of Guides: or, Mountain Paths and
Prairie Trails, By Albert W. Aiken.

(8 Red River Rovers; or, Life and Adventures in the Northwest.

_ ‘ By C. Dunning Clark. ‘

' 17 Plaza. and Plain; or, Wild Adventures of “Buckskin Sam,”

(Major Sam S. Hall.) By Col. Prentiss lngraham.
i8 Rifle and Revolver: or, The Littleton Gun Club on the
Buffalo Range. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.
l9 Wide-Awake George. the Boy Pioneer. By Ed. Willett.
80 The Dashing Dragoon: or, The Story of General George A.
Custer, from West Point to the Big Ecru. By Capt. F. Whittaker.
I 31 Deadwood Dick as a B gar, WhyM’ild Ned Harris, the New
~ England FarmJad, became e Western Prince of the Road. By
Edward L. Wheeler. ;
22 The Boy lea of Siberia. ByT. C. Harbaugh...

88 Paul De y. the French Be

York Boys in the J angles. By C. Dunning Clark.
84 The Sword Prince: The Romantic Life of Colonel Monetary,

(American Champion-stems.) By Captain Fred. Whittaker.

85 Round the On. Fire 3 or. Snow-Bound at “Freezeoout Camp.”

‘ A Tale of Roving es and his Hunter Bards. By Joe. E. Badger, J r.

28 Snow-Shoe Tour: or, New York Boys in the Wildernea. A

Narrative of Sport and Perilin Maine. By T. C. Harbaugh.

8" Yellow Hair. the Boy Chiefof the Pawnees.  Ad-
venturous career of Eddie Burgess of Nebraska. By 001. Ingraham.

88 The Chase of the Great White Stag and Camp and
‘ ’ Canoe. By C. Dunning Clark. ,
99 The Fortune-Hunter; 053mg Joe as Miner, Cow-Boy,
Trapper and Hunter. , ByA. . Post. v ;
{:0 Walt Ferguson’s Cruise. A Tale of the Antarctic Sea. By
C. Dunning Clark. ‘- *
.51 I The Boy Crusader: or, How a Page and a Fool Saved a King.
' By Captain, Frederick Whittaker. ,

7 38 White Beaver. the Indian Medicine Chief: or, The Ro-
mantic and Adventurous Life of Dr.- D. Frank Powell, known on the
Border as “ Fancy Frank,” “ Iron Face," etc. By Col. P. Ingraham.

.43 Ca. tain Rel h. the Young Explorer" or The Centipede

‘ August the Floels). By C. Dunning Clark. ’ , ‘

  Young Bear Hunters. A Story of the Rape and Mishaps
of a Party of Boys in the Wilda of Michigan. By Morris Redwing.

45 The Lost-3303p Whalers: or. In the Shadow of the North Pole.
By '1‘. C. Harbaugh. .

.06 8mm Slanthe Ludwitha. Level Head. Bde.Wlllett,v
use one '1'.» Knuckle seams Boy cam; or, The EM- ,

0! the We: Border. By Roger Stat-buck.

ant Charmer“ or, New ,

 

38 The Settler’s Son} or, Adventures in Wilderness'and Clar-
ing. By Edward 8. Ellis. '

39 Night-Hawk George, and His “Daring Deeds and Adventures

in the Wilde of the South and West. By Col. Prentiss Ingrahnm. '
40 The Ice Elephant; or, The Castaways or the Lone Coast. By \

Captain Frederick Whittaker. ,
41 The Pampas Hunters; or, New York Boys in Buenos Ayree.
By T. C. Harbaugh. ' ' ‘ '
42 The Young Lund-Lub‘ber. By C. Dunning dark. , ‘
43 Bronco Billy, the Saddle Prince. By 001 P. Ingrahhm.
44 The Snow Hunters; or, Winter in the Woods. By Ban-y
De Forrest. -« 7 . ,
45 Jack. Harry and Tom. the Three Champion Brothers; oer,
Adventures of Three Brave Boys with theTattooed Pirate. By
CaptainFrederick Whittaker. .

46 The. Condor Killers: orfWild Adventures at the Eqmtor.

By T. C. Barbaugh. V
47 The Boy Coral Fishers: or, Thefieacavern Scourge. By
Roger Starbuck. ..' >
48 Dick, the Stowaway: or, A Yankee Boy’s Strange Cruise.
By Charles Morris. ' »

49 Tip Treason. the Floater: 'or, Fortunes and Misfortunes 
the Mississippi. By Edward Willett. ‘ ,

50 The Adventurous Life of Nebraska Charlie. (Chas. If. A

Burgess.) By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. .

51 The Colorado Boys: or, Life on an Indigo Plantation. By

1 Joseph E. Badger, Jr. '

58 Honest Harry: or, The Country Boy Adrift in the City. By
Charles Morris. -

53 fghe Boy Detectives; or, The Young Californians in Shanghai.

y T. C. Harbaugh. ' '

54 California Joe, the Mysterious Plainsman. By Col. Inst-sham.

55 Harry Samara, the Sailor-Boy Magician. By 8. W. Pearce. ‘

56 Nobody’n Boys: or, Life Among the Gipsies. By J. M. Hoa-
man. ‘-

57 The M
Queen.

58 Lame Tim, the Mule Boy of the Mines. - By Cheries Morris.

59 Lud Lionheels, the Young Tiger Fighter. By Roger 9mm 1

60 The Young- Trail Hunters; or New York B0 in Grim
- Land. By T. C.‘Harbaugh. ’ ya .

61 The YoungVMustangex-s. By C. Dunning Clark.
82 The Tiger Hunters; or, The‘Colorado Boys in Tiger-lend.

By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. - ,
' tuin Jack. the Border 
Ingrahim.

I

63 The Admtunous Life «Gap
(John W. Crawford, the Poet Scout.) pBy Col. Prentiss I

64 The Young Moose-Hunters; or, Trail  the
New Brunswick Weeds: By Wm. H, naming, , ,, ' .

65 Black Hem Bill. the Bandit _Wrecker;. or, Two Bravo Boys ‘

to'the Rescue. ' By Roger Starbuck. ‘
86 Little  Rooks; or, The Mountain Kid’s Mission.

Morris BedWing. , \, . f
8'? ’Longahore Life; or. How a Bough Boy Won His Wey.’ By
. C. unning  .
68 I‘lnthont- Fred; or, The Voyage of the “Experiment,” 3,
EdwnrdWillett. z i i - Q. , -

69 The Deer-Hunters: 0?, we, ‘11 “19 WW3  , BY;

John J. Marshall. A , ..
'70 W Ben, the Long tune of the Blaine" or The-Boy
Trappers of Oregon. By Roger Starbuok. ,’ .’ a.» L .. . ‘
71 The Boy Pilot; or, The Island Wreckers ' By 001. Insulin}.

"'78 Young Dick Talbot. By Mmrtvw. Aiken. , » I

'78 Pat, Mullone s Adventures: or, Silver Tongue, the Dacot’ on
Queen. By C. . Edwards. ' - r» ‘

74 The Desert Rover; or, StowawayDick Among the m 3

By Charles Morris. I ‘
A New Issue Every week.

Emma’s Bor‘s mm? is for sale hy'all' 'Newsdealere, an on“

per copy, or Sent by mail on receipt of six cents each. ,, . ’
'~ BRAD“. AND meanness.
. . .»   .98 Wiliism. '  New York. .

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1m y- . Crowell.
2 Was It Lovoi or, Coll and Sweet
hearts. By Wm. Mason Turner, M. D.
I The Girl Wire; or, The True and the False.
.‘ AByBBartley 'i‘iCamtpbell. sum 1
rave ear ' or Strange.
r - ByArabelia Southw‘ortht in“
5 Bee sic Ranker, the “fork Girl or.
The Quicksan s of Life. By William anon
Turner, M. D

6 The Secret 'Marriage; or, A Duchess“!!!
Sara (Ilaxton.
we; or, Blinded by Love.

Sgige of Herself. B
7 A aughter of
a 1133,1381}! “Twat... r my
ear . o ear ' or L0
By Arabella Southwbrth.’ by V6.
9 Alone in the World; orz The Young Man's
‘Ward. By the author of 'Clil’ton,” “Bride
to Aangyi‘ssio'i’sz' n
. are rat. on orTheEm d
N klaee ye Ke’nnedy. ' ' em

ec .
llJlntangled or, A Do erous Game.
‘ Henrietta Tléackeray. us By

. 12 His Lawful Wife; or,Myra, the Child of

Adoption. By Mrs. Ann S. Stephens.
13 Madca , the Little tinkerer or, The
Naval det‘s Wool . y Corinne ushman.
Married im ; or, The Woman in
15 Away} ByFSara Claxtoai. t i h W
or newer, u ate 1.
no 'r 153,1? cm him A Tru on! BX
run or ot or e Knivh
Margaret Leictus .r;. ' b t. By

'17 ' A Loyal Lover; or. The Last or the Grima-
a

the. B Ambel Southworth.

'18 l is [do her, The Ill-Starred Marriage. By

. Mrs. Mary ed Crowell.

19 The Broken Betrothal; or, Love versdb’
Hate. By Mary Grace Halpine.

10 Orphan Noll, the (Drungo Girl; or. The
Lost Heir. By Agile l’enne.

2+1 New and Forever; or, Why Did She Mar-

" 1-K Him? By Henrietta Thackeray. ~

22 T e Bride of an ’Actor; or. Driven from
Home. B the author of “ Alonein the World,”

as L“ Clifrggi, ’ etc. Wh Sh Pm
cap ear' or, y 6. ed. B Sara
Claxto ’ M y

- n..
24 Her Face Was Her Fortune. By Elea-
. nor Blaine.
2.5 only a Schoolmistrecs; or, Her Untold
- Secret. By Arabella Southworth. 4
26 Without a Heart; or, Walking on the
Brink. By Colonel Prentiss Ingrahom.
21' Was she a Coquette? or. A Strange
Courtship. By Henrietta. Thackeray.
28 8 hi] Chase, or. The Gambler’s Wife. By
no r mi?“ someplzie'fi 8a ed H
 or er earn: e or v in im-
seli’ By Sara Claxton.‘ ’ mm

.39 The Bow uet Girl; or, A Million of Money.

 By Agile eune.
31  gilgagin-‘ge; or, The Iron Will. By
38 The glimaBiéfii‘g’re}? Bog-1mg: rfiiystery of
Lord Chaliont. By Alice Fleming.

_ 34 A Harrie elor' Convenience; or.»Was

Be a Count By Sara Claxton.
35 A'lLAzainst Her; or. The Winthrop Pride.
- y'Clara Augusta. ‘ ,
36 Sir Archer’s Mile; or. The Queen oi His
_ ._.. cart. By Arabella Southworth. _
37 The Country Cousin ;* or, All is not Gold
thatGlitters. B Rose Kennedy.

_38 Bin GWn A a tailor. Trust Her Not. By

Arabella Sou wort . h
39 Flirtation; or, A Youn Girl‘s Good Name.
By Jacob Abarbanell. (12 pk Reign
40 Pictured “to Marry; or, In ve’s Bonds.

By Alice Fleming. .
42 Beatrice, the Beaut ml or. His Second
Love By Arabella Squthwo

' 43 The Daronevs Secret; or, The Rival Half;

tors By Sara Claxton

r so . ,
4 The 0111 » , , ht ‘ . .
4 We!  or Brother against

. , oz.
‘5 Her Hidden Foe or Love
I By Arabella &uthwor%h. ’ 
46 The Little Heiress; or, Under a Cloud.
By Mrs. Mar ' A. Denison.
'47 Because S v
4.8 IIt 13nd; By‘Ailgce Flelnglng. J t ’ m
n . e o ' eree or eenne to a.
rough. By s. R. She god: i a p
46 Hi: Heart’s Mistress; or Love at First
Sight. By Arabella Southworth.
do The Cuban Heiress or, The Prisonel oi
LaVintresee. By Mrs. A. Denison, .
51 Two Young Girls; or, The Bride of an
Burl. By Alice Fleming. I . 4
52 The Win ed Manuela er or Riakin All
ioraHeorg mmmgyngodbmwen.‘ '

, 110 e th Ac or. no:
" ‘35.: of fatty .m...»
r Turner. I. D.

sum, the Prima Donna or, Roses,

or, Love Against the .

e Loved Him; or, How‘Wlll .

n'lde‘l 01‘. Will 3118 KNIT { 54 One Woman’o Heart; or. Saved from the

Street. By George S. Kaime.

55 She Did Not Love'llim; or, Stoopingto
Conquer. By Arabella Southworth.

56 Love-Mad; or Betrothed Married Divorced
and -—-—-. B Wm. mason Turner, M. D.

57 A Brave ‘iri; or, Sunsh' e at Last. By
Alice Fleming. ‘ .

58 The *Ebon Blank; or. The Mysterious

. Guardian. By Mrs. Mary Reed Croweli.

59 A \Vidow’s “files; or. A Bitter Vengeance.
By Rachel Bernhardt. . ,

60 Cecil’s Deceit; or The Diamond Legacy.
By Mrs. Jennie Davis Burton.

61 A Wicked Heartsor, The False and the
True. By Sara Claxton.

62 The Maniac Bride; or, Tire Dead Secret
of Hollow Ash Hall. By Margaret Blount

63 The Creole Sisters; or The Mystery or the

Perrys. By Mrs. Anna E. orter.

64 What Jealous Did; or, The Heir oi
Worsle Grange. y Alice Fleming.

65 The ife’s ecret; or, ’Twixt Cup and
Li . B Col. Juan Lewis.

66 A rot or": Sin or, Flora‘s Forgiveness.
By Rachel Bernhar t. ,

67 Forbidden Bans; or, Alma’s Disguised
Prince. By Arabella Southworth.

68 \Venvers and “led; or, “Love That Hath
Us In His Net.” By Miss M. E. Breddon.

69 Camille; or, The Fate of a Coquette. By

. Alexandre Dumas.
70 The Two 0 hang. By D'Enery.
71 Mgr Young ii‘e. By My Young Wife's
usband

. 7,2 The Tw'o Widows. By Annie Thomas.

 

’73 Rose Michel; or The Trials of a Factory
Girl. By Maud l-Iil on.

74 Cecil Castlem‘ainc’s Gagc' or, The Story

, of aBroldered Shield. By Oui a.
75 TFi‘ie Black Lady of Dunn. By J. 8. Le
arm.

76 Charlotte 'l‘em le. By Mrs. Rowson.

71 Christian oak ofi’s Mistake. By the
author of “ John Ha fax, Gentleman," etc.

78 Fly Young; Husband; or, A(,‘011fusionin

the Family. By Myself.
79 A noon Annoug‘st \Vomcn. * By the

out or of “Dora 'l‘horno,” etc, etc.

80 Her Lord and Master. By Florence
Marryat. '

8 1 Lucy Temple, Sister of Charlotte.

82 A Long Time Ago. By Meta Orred.

83 Playing for High Stakes. By Annie
Thomae. ,

81 The Laurel Bush. By the author of
“. John Halifax, Gentleman."

85 Led Asytray. B" Octave Feuillet. '

86 J anet’s Repentance. By George Eliot.

87 The Romance oi'u Poor Young Man.
By Octave Feuillot.‘

88 A Terrible Deed; or, All. for Gold. By
Emma. Garrison Jones. ’

89 A Gilded Sin. By the author. of “Dora
Thorn," etc. ‘- _

90 Tiling MAuthor’e ' Daughter. By Mary

- ow ., ~ ..
91 The J 111;. By Charles Reade.

. 92 Eileen Alanna ; or, the Dawning of the Day.

' 96 Haunted Hearts.

. 102 P

 

By Dennis O’Sqlli'van. .

93 Love’s Victory. By B. L. Farjeon.

94 The Quiet Heart. By Mrs. Oliphant.

95 Lettlce Arnold. By Mrs. Ma . ,
9 M l B Bernhardt.
, 7 Hugh . c ten. y arine 'ng.

98 Alice Loarmont. By Miss Mulock.

'99 Marjorie Bruce’s Lovers. By Mary

. Patrick. v
100 Thrall 11 Fire and Water. ByFred-
erlck Talfiot.

101 Hannah. By Mss Mullock.

efiffi’ofli ngton. Bv Charles Reade.
103 A esperate Deed. ByErskine Bo d.
104 Shadowron the Snow. By B. _ .Far-

.ieon.
105 The Great Hoggarty Diamond. By
~ M. Thackev v

106 min Bromine to’ Waking. By E.
Lynn Linton.

1‘07 Poor Zoph! By F. W. Robinson. ‘ i

108 The Sad Fortunes orthe Rev. Amos

, Barton. By George Eliot. ., ,

109'Bread6aud-Checse and .Kiscec. By

B. L. To eon.
1 10 The .gundering I Heir. By Charles

9. .

111 The Brother’s Bet; or, Within Six
Weeks. By Emilie Flygare Carlen.

113  Hero. By Miss . ulock. ,

1 i an] and Virginia. From the French at
Bw'nardin De St. Pierre.

114 ’Twus In Trafalgar’s Day. By Wal-
ter Bosnnt and James Rice. .

115 ghe Maid of Killeenn. By William

aek.
1181! tt . 13 Ken Kimmy.
117 Tfie 155111;?) 5 or, The Bald of
- Gomez. ByGa an.

118 The Vicar 0L... ~ .. in. By Oliver

 

FIVE CE   "

 

 

 

119 Maud Mohan. ‘ By Annie Thornas.
120 Thaddeus of Warsaw. By MISS Jane

Porter. ‘ ‘ V
121 The King 3'! Flo-Land. By n. 1.. Par
eon. ,
122 ovel, the “'idower. By W. M. Thack

eray. ,
 it]: [giagqllflll’fiarb By .3. .1. Fuiieon.
Jens n s. ..
125 Leila; or, The Siege of Granada. By“
ward Bulwer (Lord Ly ton). ‘
126 When the Shi Congo. llama. 8’
. Walter Besant and amen Rice. .
iii it” it??? ii?“ iii Jam" 1"”
e r 1r 1 .‘ e. ore. .
12.9 Motherless for, Thflarmer’s Sweetheart.
B Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
130' ,omelessfi cr, Two Orphan Girls in 36'
York. By A iert W. Aiken. I
131 Slut a rainst Sister; or, The Rivalryfl
ea . y Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. ‘
132 Sold for Gold. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.
133 Lord Roth’s'Sin. By Georgiana’chkem.
34 D}!!! He Love Her 1 By Barclay 1‘. Jump

1
be . . ,
135 Sinned A ainst. ByLillian Lovejoy. I
136 8V1“: 1She‘ilis Wife 1 By Mrs. Mary Reed
rowe . x '
137 ghhek Village on the Cliil’. By Mia
ac era . - - .
138 Poor alcriai or, The Broken Twill.
B Margaret Blount. .
139 . ar raret Grahame By G. P. R. Jam
140 Wit Ioult¥ Mergy..BByigfirtle T.Cjt‘\)mp
141 Honor oun . y an ve .
142 Fleeing from Love. By Mrs. 

Irvin .

1 43 A bdfiicted; or, A Wicked Woman's Wat.
By Bet-t Winwood. '

144 A Strange Marriage; or, John Foeter‘e
Heiress. By Lillian Lovejog. /

l 45 z‘wonGiri’o Lite» y Mrs. Mary Reed

‘rowe . '

146 A Desperate Venture °. or, For Love’s
Own Sake. By Arabella Sou hworth.

147 The “far of Hearts. By ConnueCush-

man.
1 48 “Watch \Vas the Woman 1 or, Strangely
Misjudgeci. By Sara Claxton.
149 An Ambitious Girl or, SheWould Be
An Actress. By Frances elen Davenport.
150 Love Lord of All; or, In Her Own at
Last. By Alice May Fleming. ‘
151 A Wild Girl. Bv Corinne Cushman.
2 A Man’s Sacrifice. By Harriet Irving.
'1 Did She Sin. By Mrs. Magi Reed Crowell.
'He Loves Me Not. xB illian Lovejoy.
Win ning “rays. By ll argaret Blountu
What She (‘ost Him; or. Crooked Paths.
By Arabella Southworth. .
A Girl’s Heart. By Bett Winwood.
A Bitter Mistake' or, A Young Girl’s
Folly. By Agnes Mary éhelton. .. -
9 Lady Helen’s Vow ,or, Thelliother’s
Secret. By the, Late Mrs. . F. Ellet.‘
° 3“"‘i‘gr‘i mime Am“? ii if." °"‘
1 earo,ears. y .. o r.»
62  Isratrail Game; or, Wedded and Ported.
are ‘ ax on. ' ' ‘ .
163 Jim t‘reol Cocaine; or. False“ Fair.
By Philip S. ante. . , ‘
164 A Seething Ordeal; or,May Langley’s
. Mad Marriage. B Mrs. Georgiana Dickens.
165 ,A Strange Gir . By Albert W. Aiken. ‘
166 it Man’s Sin. BigRett Winwood.
167,1‘he Hand of ate; or, The Wreck of
Two Lives. B Arabella Southworth.
168 TWo Fair Vomen. Ba Wm. M. mar.
169 Tempted Throu h (we; or, One
‘ Woman‘s Error. By , anLovejoy.
170 Blind. Barbara’s Secret. By Mary
. - Grace Halpine. - . _
171 A woman’s Witchery; or, Through

an mmmmm
ad ame-

35$¢n

1
l
l
l
1
l .
l
I
l
1

Much Tribulation. B Sara Llaxton.

172 Black Eyes on Blue. By Cor-in"
CusMan.

173 The (70st of a Folly. By Georgia.
Dickens.

174 The, Pretty Puritan. By A famon‘s
Daughter. A ‘ ' u

L we a Meeker i or Revenge
175 gv’veet.o By Arabella. Sout worth:

no Adria, the Adopted. By Jennie Davis
Burton. I

1'17 For the Woman He Loved; or Fate?
iul Links. By Agnes Mary Shelton. '
178 The Loekedlleart. ByCorlnneGushmtb.

1 79 Ported by Treachery. By Ilarrieizlrving-

180 “’as She a Wifei. or. The ProofoiLoye- y '

By Belt Wiuyvood.
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BEADLE AND ADA

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