Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y.,at Second Class Mail Rates.

 

 

W.GRR- Sa. |

Copyrighted 1881, by BEADLE AND ADAMS. September 15, 1881.

 

__ 85.00 a Year.
Published Every

Vol. IX. Week,

BEADLE

AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS,

No. 98 Witu1am Street, New YORE.

Complete in this Number,
Price, Ten Cents.

No. 112

 

 

In Mortal Peril;

2

A HARVEST OF CURSES;

A Romance of Three Fair Women,

‘BY MRS. MARY REED CROWELL,
AUTHOR OF “FOR HONOR’S SAKE,” ‘‘ DRIFTING
TO RUIN,” ‘‘ DID SHE SIN?” ‘‘ VIALS
OF WRATH,” ETC., ETC.

CHAPTER I.
AT BAY.

Frve o'clock of a cheerless October afternoon.
Twilight was already beginning to settle, gray
and gloomy, over the city, and the clouds that
had hung so low all day seemed to drop still
more eaten and threatening. A sighing, east-
erly wind wailed around corners, and down
chimneys, sending pedestrians briskly along,
with wraps more tightly about them than be-
fore in the season, and making fires leap and
crackle in flaming splendor.

On Fifth avenue, in one of the imposing pal-
aces well up-town, servants were going about
lighting up and brightening grate fires, and
dropping heavy satin or velvet draperies at the

A
lis t
Lait

i

M4
mm

 

a
i

dozens of French and bay windows, while in
the regions below, the chef de cuisine and his
aids were absorbed in the preparations for the
feast that was to welcome the master of the
house, Mr. Severn, on his return from his pro-
longed summer sojourn at his country seat,
Mount Severn.

He was a gentleman of fifty-five or sixty,
hale, hearty and full of fire and vigor, who en-
joyed life and society well. He was finé-look-
ing and distinguished in appearance, somewhat
above medium hight, and in figure portly and
manly. His bright blue eyes were piercing and
keen, and were overshadowed by handsome
bushy gray brows. His hair was luxuriant
and curling, and, like his mustache and thick,
full beard, worn long on his breast, was de-
cidedly gray. -saiur--—

He always dressed elegantly, and was upon
all occasions the thorough gentleman. He was
proud, haughty, intolerant of deceit and schem-
Jng—honest, a as the day, free to speak just
what he thought, and yet rarely gave offense.

Since early June he had been at Mt. Severn,
enjoying the summer in his own way, and was
now on his way home.

Up-stairs, in a magnificently-furnished front
room, a lady was sitting, apparently enjoying
the twilight hour, for only the warm glow
from the grate fire lighted the room; but, shin-
ing fully upon her, as she sat with her dainty

 

slippered feet on the silver fender, it showed a
gloriously beautiful creature.

She was Mr. Severn’s grand-niece, Olga Os-
mond, who had made her home with him for
the past three years since the death of her hus-
band had made it necessary that she should find
anew home and a fresh source of support. Her
husband had been a handsome, dissolute fellow
who had married Olga Severn in direct opposi-
tion to her uncle’s wishes, and who had run
through a fortune in an incredibly short time.
And; dying suddenly, his widow went, in well-
simulated penitence and actual eager entreaty,
to Mr. Severn, and succeeded in opening his
heart, his home, to her again. In due course of
time she had reéntered society and was at once
installed as reigning belle by virtue of ber peer-
less beauty, her great expectations as Mr. Sev-
ern’s heiress, her high social position and her
fascinating charms of manner and speech.

She was still young, not yet thirty. She was
in truth wonderfully beautiful, with a pale,
creamy skin, a warm, scarlet mouth that smiled
most bewitchingly over the flashing white
teeth, glorious dark velvety eyes, with long-
lashed lids, and straight, thick brows, and lus-
trous hair of deepest, darkest brown, the merest
remove from black. Her figure was slender, ,
lithe, willowy and a model of symmetry, an
she was of average hight. She was as accom-
plished as she was beautiful, and, justin pro-

 

 

 

“WHAT SHALL I DO? WHAT CAN I DO! I AM STANDING UPON THE VERGE OF AN AWFUL ABYSS,”

 
 

 

she had sunk ee u
e

   

2

 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

portion to her rare, bewildering charms, she
was ambitious, unprincipled, treacherous and
se) i oer and merciless—undaunted
and bold,

To-night, it was very evident she was in deep
thought, for the fitful glow of the fire some-
times betrayed a slight contraction of her fair

forehead; and then, taking out her watch,.

whose crusting of diamonds sparkled dazzlingly
in the half-light, she leaned forward and
touched the scarlet velvet and silk tassel of the
bell-cord.

In less than a minute a servant was in re-
spectful attendance. i

“Light the gas, Joyce, and tell Mr. Welsh I
wish to see him in the library at once.”

Her voice was thrillingly sweet, with a hav-
teur in it that fitted her admirably. The gas
turned on, she stood revealed in all her bril-
liant beauty, that was enhanced by her dinner
dress of maroon velvet and satin and massive
gold jewelry.

She went deliberately down the grand stair-
case several seconds after Joyce had departed
with the message to Mr. Welsh, but, promptly

as she had gone, Mr. Welsh was there before’

her, standing with the door respectfully held
open by his hand,

She bowed slightly as she swept through, and
received in turn a deep, almost mocking saluta-
tion; after which he closed the door, and fol-
lowed her to her position beside the fire, where
m a low hassock.

Jerome Welsh was a short, thick-set, thick-
necked man of forty years of age, with a close-
eut sort of beard from ear to ear, and small

_ shrewd eyes that were rarely twice the same

__ color, but that always wore the same peculiarly

shy, sinister look so plainly visible toa reader
of character, an expression that perfectly cor-
responded with the impression he gave one of
keen distrust and dislike.

He was thoroughly gentlemanly in seeming,
and had occupied the position of friend and ad-
viser to Olga’s husband for a long time.

He was intimately acquainted with all her
affairs, financially and socially. He had made

_ himself so invaluable to her that Olga had been

4

ae

instrumental in securing him a position in ‘Mr.
Severn’s household, where he was now settled, as
asort of general manager—steward or sécretary.
He stood waiting a moment for Olga to open
the conversation, but as she did not, he took the
initiative.
“You wanted me, Mrs. Osmond? I am al-
wa ee to be at your service.”
espite the unvarying respectfulness in man-
ner and speech, there was a certain latent fa-
miliarity in both.
“ Yes, I want to inquire if you know whether
Mr. Claremont arrived at home, as was ex-
ted, yester

'. pec a.
, She did not lift her a off the fire, as she
__ © put the question carelessly.

“He returned, and Mr. Knight with him,
yesterday morning.”
+“ Yesterday morning! And he has not called
_ on me yet!”
_Welsh’s lip curled slightly.
**[ dare say Mr. Claremont is not aware of
your very marked preference for him. At all

, events, it does not seem to be reciprocated.”

ae face was suddenly turned toward him,

in ing anger. ;

_ ‘*How dare you speak soto me? You forget

_ yourself, I think. member your position in

his house depends entirely upon me, and I will

not tolerate such familiar insolence.”

He smiled as she spoke, not in the least dis-
turbed, either by her anger or her threat. -

“T give 9 hin the credit for having forgotten

. Osmond, Consider a moment.

smiss me, what would the consequences

be to yourself, do you sup

 

 

fry

 

facts, and I also know that

AF

Youle

et
The haughty anger died from her face, and,

in the 0 i, ag ag look that came in her

eyes, was to seen that Olga Osmond—rich,
_ young, beautiful, though she was—feared this

man.
_ ‘Of course I did not intend to threaten you,
Welsh,” she said, in a low, repressed tone, “ but
you know you tried me terribly. You should

not speak so to me—you must never attempt it:
& Welsh quietly drew a chair just penceite her,’

and coolly seated himself, folding his arms ani
looking at her in a way that was unspeakably

eC pcs to me the time has come for an un-
derstanding between us, Mrs, Osmond. For
ea before you ever heard of him, I
was Field Osmond’s confidential friend. I man-
aged his affairs before he married you, and you
know I nate them faithfully and well, af-
terward. After his death I remained at my
post, and. attended to all your business—how

well, aon know.”
He

looked at her, and she went on, a little

imperiously :
“T am accurately scquatnsed with all these
in consideration of
-your services, you have always been paid a
that many a gentleman might envy.
hus, Welsh. You
house similar to

ve become rich thro
have gained a position in th

: _ one you held in my husband’s; you are treated

y

as an equal, in every respect, honored and ap-
preciated by guests and household. What’ pos-
sible further ‘understanding’ can there be be-
tween us?” .

‘““Waita moment. What you have admitted
is true:—I am a gentleman by birth and educa-
tion, and of course age upon all occasions, to
be treated as such. As you say, I have saved
money—a great deal of it. I have a pleasant
position but I am not satisfied; I want to
marry. I want a wife, and you are the woman
I seek.”

She sprung to her feet in an impulse of fury
and horror, her eyes fairly scintillating.

‘*T will not listen to such unheard-of inso-
lence, sir! You willleave the room or I will.”

‘“No,” he said, quietly, and arose from his
chair in a way that impressed her, in spite of
herself. ‘‘The time has come for a complete
understanding between you and me, I have
something to say, and I propose to be heard. I
love you and you are the only woman I ever
have loved, or ever shall ask to be my wife. I
know perfectly well you do not care in the
least for me, and that you are deeply in love
with Roy Claremont, who does not reciprocate
your affection in the faintest degree. I—”

She stood looking at him, white with anger.

“You must be mad! Such words to me!
Man, you are beside yourself,” she interrupted,
haughtily, bewilderedly.

“You will find a most admirable method in
my madness, then,” he returned, with unfailing
patience, ‘‘and since you choose to consider
yourself insulted by an‘houest offer of marriage
from me, I will change my tactics ‘and tell you
that, if { was your paid servant—if I am hired
in your uncle’s house—if I am older than your-
sel? and a homely man—I am your master, and
I demand your favorable answer to my pro-
posal!”

A cold, steely light was creeping to his eyes.
that ‘made Olga shiver with repulsion an
dread.

“You speak of absolute impossibilities!” she
said, feverishly. ‘‘When I married before I
nearly lost my chances with my uncle, To so
seriously offend him again would be the death-
blow to my hopes—ample reason, if there were
not a thousand others, why I should emphatic-
— decline your offer.” é

jhe was controlling herself well, but Jerome
Welsh knew his ground, and Olga Osmond
knew he knew it. ’

“He would naturally oppose the marriage,
but, after awhile he would relent. You are his
nearest relative, Your cousin, Mr. Claremont,
has a fortune of his own, and there is no one
else—is there?”

He looked steadily in her enraged, disturbed

eyes.
‘You know there is no one else,” she replied,
quickly. ‘‘But, we are losing sight of the
question. I said and I repeat—I decline the—
honor you offer me.”

A flush reddened his face at the chilling sneer
in her tones.

“T will not take a denial,” he returned,
stonily, and the glittering light in his eyes deep-
ened. ‘‘ You will marry me, Olga Caton.
for, despite your sneers, your contempt, your

islike of me, I want you! I shall be proud of
your beauty, your ries: your style. Once
more, I await your affirmative decision.”

Olga shivered as though an icy blast had sud-
denly blown across her; then, with a look of de-
fiance, she turned on him.

“T will not!”

‘And I swear su shall! Iam your master,
my fair, haughty Olga, and I will crush you as
I would crush an egg-shell in hand, if you re-
fuse! You are in my power—do you hear that?
Tam in entire possession of your hideous secret,
and if you persist in refusing to be my wife, 1
swear to use it to the fullest extent of the law!”

Olga fell back on the sofa, cowering like a
wpipped child, her hands, all glittering with dia-

8, covering her deathly-white face.

oe more, Mrs. Osmond, will you marry
me

A-second of silencg followed, and then Olga
sprung to her feet, her face wearing a hunted,
horrified look that brought an evil smile to his

eyes.
“Wait until to-morrow,” she said, with a
ing shiver. ‘I must have time to think of
t! “I will let you know to-morrow.”
He bowed respectfully.
“J willsee you at this time, then, to-morrow.
But—weigh it well, Olga!”
And as she swept up the stairs, the sound of
carriage wheels stopped at the door, and in a
moment Mr. Severn was, ushered in.

CHbaPTER IT.
A FATEFUL MEETING. ‘

Somz six months previous to the eventful
night when Olga Osmond had learned how com-
pletely Jerome Welsh had obtained the mastery
over her, and about the time that Mr. Severn
uae his city residence for his mupenet stay
at Mt, Severn, there was beginni. e forging
of another link in the chain of d iny that was
to enslave so many lives—away off, hundreds
of miles, among the beautiful ands of the St.

 

 

Lawrence, where the mention, even, of Olga

 

 

whet name seemed impossible ever to pene-

Away up among the Thousand Islands, visited.
every season by multitudes of tourists, was one
especial little place—romantic, retired, pictur-
esque, yet which often chanced to escape the
attention of the traveler, from its very remote-
ness of access.

On the tiny island was one dwelling—a small
frame-house, gothic in style, and of a delicate
gray color, with a multitude of cosey porches
and shady angles, where a few hardy vines
flourished vigorously during the brief summer-
time. It stood in the midst of the island, and
its grassy lawn sloped smooth and green to the
very river’s edge. A few shade trees orna-
mented it, and a couple of little boats served as
the mode of communication with the shore of
the river.

It was a lovely, secluded spot, where the
noise and excitement of the great throbbing-
pulsed world never came. A place where, if
ever in the world, the tumultuous cares, the

‘heating ambitions, the seething passions that

make life such an unrest, seemed unapt to en-

ter. ‘
It was, the home of a little, quiet, happ
family of only three people—Mr. Leigh, an oh
derly invalid gentleman of peculiarly retiring
scholastic habits; his equally quiet, gentle wife,
who had been a_ homeless, friendless orphan

governess when Mr. Leigh had married her,

twenty years before; and Stella Carizelle,

Stella Carizelle! As unlike the grave, quiet
people who were the only friends she could re-
member, as the humming-bird is unlike the so-
ber. brown thrush, or a royal lily unlike the
grass ofthe roadside,

She was the sunshine of the house, the glad
joy in the lives of the Leighs, and she was as
lovely as good—as beautiful as tender and gra-
cious.

That she was not a child of the Leighs Stella -

was well aware, for as soon as she was old
enough to understand the pitiful story, she
learned that her parents were both dead and
that from human charity, pure and simple, her
foster-parents had taken her into their lives,
from which God had withheld the sacred gift
of children.

Of her parentage, Stella was in almost com-
plete ignorance. She had a faded little picture
of her dead young mother, and supposed that
the faintly-written name, the same as her own
—from which Mrs. Leigh had called her—was
her mother’s name. Of her father she knew
absolutely nothing, and, until these late months,
she had accepted her peculiar position with
childlike indifference; but, with the maturing
of her mind, had come many an hour of rest-
less, wondering speculation and a lish dis-
content that was so perfectly natural to a tem-
perament like hers.

She was surpassingly lovely—tall, slender,
seventeen or so years old, graceful and supple
and lissom as the swaying flower on its stem.
Her beauty was purely blonde—a rare delicate
pallor that the most ardent caresses of the sun
or fierce assaults of the winds of that cool
northerly country had never spoiled. She had.
at times, faint pink flushes on her cheeks, an
her mouth was simply perfect—small, tender,
sweet in its expression and yet very frequently
capable of a decidedly mutinous look. Her
forehead was low and broad, and her fair
golden hair swept back from it in lustrous rip-
pling waves below her waist. Her nose was
delicate, her upper lip curved in an unconscious
hauteur; her eyes, the grand crowning glory
of her sweet face, were large, luminous, blue as
the brightest June sky—deep, haunting, spirit-
ed eyes, with great capabilities of womanly
power and passion in them; but, at this moment,
when the fate of her life was about to come to
her, there was a look of strange unrest in them,
as she stood on a little rocky pile at the river’s
edge, her wide-rimmed hat pushed back off her
forehead—a glorious creature, instinct with ex-
quisite refinement and elegance of manner, and
that nameless something which told that she
Ppomenea a great, generous nature, a warm,
loving heart, a sweet, impulsive temperament;

faulty, perhaps, but withal a grandly noble —

soul.

It was a fair day in early spring—the ay ;

first warm day of the season, and Stella
felt the persuasive influence of the balmy
southerly breeze, and had been rambling about
for an hour or more, after her daily morning
duties had all been performed—a curious gravity
overspreading her face as she stood on the river
bank, looking almost wistfully at the shores on
either side. ey
“Will I always have to liye here, I wonder”
she was thinking. “I am afraid I am growi
unhappy. I long for the t busy, beautifu
world out there, with all my heart! Will it
ever be my fortune to enter it?”
And, as if the watchful spirits who rule our
destinies had planned it, age before, there sud-
denly came a change in Stella Carizelle’s life,
and with that little discontented plaint, had
come her last moment of everyday, common-
place life. But she could not read what was in
store for her, and it was well that she could not.
And, in those a

I

 

 

ppallingly dark after days, she

eerste el EN

 

ae

 

Pa

  
 

+

 

IN .MORTAL PERIL.

3

 

 

 

 

looked back with passionate pear yearning
for the simple homely life on the little island.

Shes there, all unconscious that in a boat
a littie distance off were two young men, eager-
ly watching her, one through an opera-glass
that he seemed in no haste to resign.

‘“‘By Jove, Claremont, but she’s a perfect
little queen! Who would have thought of find-
ing such a beauty awa 7 in this out-of-the-
way corner of the world? Take a look.”

“Thanks, no. I prefer not to take the risk of
startling her by a pele discovery of the
glass. tit down, Knight.”

Clifford Knight laughed, and laid the glass

down.

“What a fellow you are! Well, let’s get nearer
then, for I vow I'd like to know something
about her.”

The little boat rowed silently, steadily on,
coming up beside the rock with an abruptness
that annoyed Claremont exceedingly, and that
startled Stella so that she slipped and fell—only
a little distance, but the two young men sprung
promptly to her assistance.

“T beg your pardon a hundred times,” Clare-
mont said, in honest, chivalrous regret, as he
helped her to rise. “It was my stupid awk-
wardness in bringing the boat so suddenly to
shore. I hope you are not hurt.”

Stella flushed as she regained her feet.

“Not at all, thank you. It was very foolish
in me.”

Her sweet voice, reserved manner, made an
additional impression on the two young men,
and Knight, who had not yet spoken, lifted his
hat in grave courtesy.

“We are tourists, enjoying the scenery of
your lakes, Will you kindly permit me to in-
troduce ourselves? My friend is Roy Clare-
mont, of New York city, and I have the honor
to be his cousin, Clifford Knight.”

Claremont bowed, and Stella gravely ack-
nowledged the introduction.

“‘T am afraid I have been the means of ren-
dering you somewhat uncomfortable, gentle-
men,” she said, with a glance at their wet
boots, which they had unhesitatingly sacrificed
in jumping to her assistance, “If you will
walk up to the cottage, I think auntie will see
to it. She is Mrs. Feigh. I am Stella Cari-
zelle.”

That was the way Fate ordered the acquaint-
ance of these three young ple, and even
then, at that early hour, Stella was conscious
of two decidedly distinct sensations with regard
to them.

To her, Roy Claremont was the very imper-
sonation of manly beauty. He was perhaps
thirty years of age, of fine form, distinguished

resence, with a-frank, handsome face, and no-
bility of manner and grace of speech, that in
stantly impressed her.

While Clifford Knight, despite his handsome,
florid face, his intelligent dark eyes, his elegant
manners, made her experience an instinctive
distaste toward him, that increased as the days
‘went on, and the two young gentlemen became
daily callers at the cottage on the island—until,
a month from the time when Stella Carizelle
had first burst ie their vision, she had con-
quered them both.

‘“‘ Clifford,” Claremont said, one evening when
they were enjoying a téte-d-téte smoke at the
“ Thousand Island House,” ‘‘I want to ask you
something. What do you think of Miss Cari-
zelle?”

Knight’s face flushed.

“What dol think of her? That she is the
loveliest, most enchanting creature I ever saw.

?

Why? 984

<* Bapaniss I wanted to hear your opinion.
Another thing:—Do you believe in love at first
sight?’

here was a world of suppressed passion in
‘Claremont’s voice. .

“Y-e-s, I do. But see here, Roy, you ne-
ver—”

“Yes. I believe I loved Miss Carizelle the
moment I first saw her. I love her with the
first love of my life. I have seen Jmany fair
women, but she is the first I ever wanted for
my wife. Clifford, wish me God-speed in my
resolve to win Stella Carizelle for my wife!”

Something like a sneer curled the cruel
mouth beneath Clifford Knight’s black mus-
tache.

“Your wife! Well, you are tremendously
in a hurry. Why, you don’t know anything
about her—”

“J would stake my soul on her truth and

rity,” Claremont interrupted, passionately.
'*T do not care for anything else. I can only
bless the fate that brought me here, and I sha
stay until she has promised to be my wife. Per-
haps she will go back’ with me. How uncle
Severn would love her!”

“ And how the fair Olga would hate her! I
thought you had an eye in that quarter, Roy.”

‘You are mistaken. My cousin and I are
very good friends only. ill you go over to
the island with me—or amuse yourself else-
where until dianer time?” 9

And after he had gone, Clifford Knight walk-
ed up and down the river in passionate fury.

“He never shall ma: her! He may love
her, but he does not love her as Ido, and I will

| upon one of the most

 

win her for my wife before his very eyes! It
will be no easy task, for she is already preju-
diced in his favor, but I will work my way,
and undermine him until she will change her
mind in my favor. I wonder who she is? She
looks a very young aristocrat. It shall be my
business to discover, while my handsome, un-
suEpeeN iE. cousin eer imagines he is on the
high road to successand happiness. But, I shall
step in, and carry off the prize. If not by fair
means, then, by foul!”

His bold, handsome face grew darkly malig-
nant, and it seemed surpassingly strange that
any. one so dissimilar to him, in every respect,
as Roy Claremont was, should have been his
chosen friend and companion.

But, Claremont’s nature was too noble, too
unsuspicious to detect the treachery and unscru-
dears in Clifford Knight’s character, and
he trusted and liked him, after a man’s hearty,
honest fashion—going too toward the oy: not so
very far off, when he would curse the hour he
had taken the serpent to his bosom, only to
have it sting him almost to death.

CHAPTER III.
A WOMAN’S DESPERATION.

Five miles distant from Mt. Severn, the coun-
try seat of Mr. Severn, and delightfully situated
icturesque and com-
manding sites along the Palisades, was a mag-
nificent estate known as Vincent Place, the wide
sweeping home grounds reaching for. miles, the
lawns and vales, the groves and lakelets, foun-
tain and grottoes, fairylike perspectives and
bosky dells, unique summer-houses and arbors
the statuary and huge vases, great pineries and
graperies, hot-houses and forcing-houses, all
combining to make a property of royal elegance
and of almost untold value. ‘

And, in all its splendor, with all the embar-
rassingly large income that kept Vincent Place
uP, with its retinue of servants, its magnificence
of furnishing, and every imaginable luxury, it
was the property of a young girl not yet
twenty years old,

Upon this especial morning about the same
time that the romantic acquaintance between
Stella Carizelle and Roy Claremont and Clif-
ford Knight began, the young mistress of Vin-
cent Place was walking leisurely to and fro upon
the marble portico that ran around the western
side of the dwelling—enjoying the pleasant,
genial air, that yet, away up on the open hight
eee she stood, was somewhat chilly and

een.

She was a charming-looking girl—‘‘a fine
woman,” people would say. She was not quite
up to woman’s general hight, and was plump
and graceful, with a sort of indolent self-pos-
session, common to persons of her tempera-
ment. She was rather fair, with a brilliant
color, and bright, bold eyes of bluish-gray, with
thick, handsome hair that this morning was
frizzed low over her forehead, and hanging
dowr below her waist in two thick chestnut
braids.

She was handsomely and showily dressed in a
trailing navy blue silk and cashmere costume, a
jaunty wide-rimmed navy blue felt hat, trimmed
with asweeping plume of the same shade, and an
India shawl draped over her plump shoulders.

It was Sibyl Vincent, sole heiress and mis-
tress of the great estate knownas Vincent Place,
that had come into her possession when she was
a child of fifteen, and which was managed by
her maternal uncle, Marcus Rivers, who was
also her guardian, and who, with Sibyl, and
ue ona of servants, constituted the house-

0)

She had lived amid 5 eS and luxury for
nearly five years, and had become thoroughly
used to it. She had never known’ an ungrati-
fied wish, or an unfulfilled desire. She was vir-
tually her own mistress, entertained and visited
when she chose, thoroughly appreciated her po-
sition, and was absolutely heart-whole.

Such was the condition of affairs then, at
Vincent Place, that bright, sunshiny May morn-
ing, when Sibyl Vincent was walking in leisure
aimlessness up and down the marble portico,
and when, after she had continued her walk
perhaps twenty minutes, a gentleman came out
of the front entrance and went rather hurriedly
toward her.

It was her uncle, Marcus Rivers, a tall, slen-
der gentleman, with a slight stoop in his shoul-
ders, and a thin, sallow face, with a Jong,
straight pale-brown mustache, completely hid-
ing his mouth, and long, straight pale-brown
whiskers reaching low down on his breast. His
eyes were light, not especially characteristic,
and his pale-brown hair was cut exceedingly
close to his head—altogether, a gentlemanly, in-
significant looking person, always well-dressed,
and usually mildly good-natured. :

He stepped up beside Sibyl, speaking in a
tone so low, so measured, as to be annoying to
strangers upon first hearing it,

‘*T really meant to have joined you when
you first began your constitutional,” he
drawled. ‘‘But I had some wretched little
items to look over with Graves. Strange how
a butcher bill will run up in a week.”

“Oh, it don’t matter,” Sibyl returned, indif-
ferently. ‘‘It seems to me nothing matters

 

Bebe to do, unless born to the title,
silly i

 

much any more, anyhow. I think country life
becomes more and more unbearable with every
season. I will summer at Newport, I think—
unless Mr. Seyern and Mrs. Osmond come to
Mt. Severn. I heard she intended to go with
the Carlyxes to the mountains.”

““Mr. Severn will be here,” Mr. Rivers an- ,
swered, placidly. ‘‘And alone. Mrs, Osmond
will travel with the Carlyxes, and Mr. Clare-
mont and Mr. Knight are to spend the season
among the Thousand Islands, I have my in-
formation from the steward of Mt. Severn.”

“Then I shall not stay here—that is certain.
Uncle Mark, you have met those young men—
cousins, are they not? What do you think of
them?”

A thoughtful look came over Mr. Rivers’s
face as he joined his hands behind him and
walked along beside Sibyl.

“T suppose you mean matrimonially? Well,
Sibyl, they are both fine-looking and in equal
favor with Mr. Severn, although Claremont
has an ample fortune of his own. Youn;
Knight has an allowance from Mr. Severn, an
from what I can learn it is Severn’s intention
to make Knight his heir.”

“ But in that case, what will become of Mrs.
Osmond??

“T think Severn will marry her to Claremont
—he isa very rich man. And, as for Clifford
Knight—” he hesitated and looked at Sibyl,
who was listening interestedly—“it is Mr.
Severn’s ambition he should marry you.”

“Marry me!” she echoed. ‘‘The idea!”

“A very good one, I am inclined to think.
The union of two such estates as Mt. Severn
and Vincent Place would make an inheritance
a fa might envy. Just imagine it, Sibyl,
and you its mistress! You would be the most
enviable woman in the world.”

Sibyl laughed, in a little imperious way.

“T do not think I shall have any difficulty in
marrying whom [ please. It would suit me to
go abroad and marry a duke or a prince, E
think.”

' Mr. Rivers stroked his long beard impa-
tiently.
“That is nonsense, Sibyl. As Mrs. Clifford
aa of Mt. Severn and Vincent Place, you
would queen it as no duchess or princess could.
It is no
ny dea—this of Mr. Severn’s, mind you.”
hey walked along in silence several seconds,
before Sibyl ke,

“‘T think it is rather ridiculous, uncle Mark.
I never have seen the gentleman. I have no
idea of how he looks, or what he is like. When
he and Mr. Claremont have been at Mt. Severn
it has always been when I was not at home to
meet them. Perhaps I would not admire him;
I might even dislike him.”

Another silence, and then Sibyl looked sharp-
ly at Mr. Rivers, still walking mechanically be-
side her, his fingers working restlessly at his
back, his forehead contra in a frown.

“You look as though you carried the na-
tional debt on your shoulders, uncle Mark.
What’s the matter? An attack of dyspe ia af-
ter those delicious wheat-cakes an roiled
birds for breakfast? Or—do you want me to
marry Mr. Knight?”

Her manner and tone were partly rueful,
partly saucy, but as Mr. Rivers suddenly
straightened up, and looked at her in a resolute,
almost defiant way, his face pale and disturbed,
his eyes troubled and desperate, the willful
pertness left her.

“You mean to say something I don’t want to
hear, uncle Mark. Say it, and be done with
i

“Yes, I have something to say; I did not in-
tend to let you know—just yet—but, prepare
for a blow, Sibyl, a terrible blow.”

“What do you mean? I can’t understand.
Tell me!”

“Yes—give me a minute, Sibyl, to find
words. I had not expected to tell you—I don’t.
know how. Sibyl, your unele is not dead; he
is coming home to take possession of his prop-

erty.”
Sibyl stopped, suddenly, in a dazed, horrified
wa

ys

“Uncle Vincent not dead! You are crazy to
tell me that. Why, he died in India—five years
ago! Uncle Mark, you are mad!”

© took out his handkerchief, and wiped the
great drops of peepee off his face.

“It is true, Sibyl. I received a letter from
him, in his own handwriting, by this morning’s
mail. He is alive. »He did not die as we all
supposed. He is alive and well, and—Sibyl,
married! and he is coming home to live at
Vincent Place.”

A sudden desperate horror and fear blanched
Hee Eee and she sunk feebly down on an iron
chair.

“‘T- must be mad, or dreaming some horrible
dream! Uncle Mark, it cannot, it must not be
true! It is, too awful, too dreadful! Tell me I
am mistress of Vincent Place, uncle Mark!”

Her eyes were blazing with ionate emo-
tion, as she suddenly sprung her feet and
clutched his sleeve.

He shook his head sadly. ,

“Tt is true; sus uncle is coming home to dis—
possess you. It is awfully ha: Sibyl, but

 
 

4

IN, MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

what can we do but face the appa ling fact?

It is hard for you, my poor child! No grand
marriage, no more luxuries, no queening it in
society, no more being waited upon by ob-
sequious servants! I pity you from the bottom
of my heart, Sibyl.”

“T would rather die a thousand times,” she
answered, quickly, in a tempest of overwhelm-
ing grief. ‘‘I will die before I will return to
the humdrum, dowdy existence that will be the
more unbearable in contrast to this. What shall
Ido, what shall I do?”

She gavea little convulsive sob as she inclined
her head toward the house, and wrung her jew-
eled hands in despair.

“There is just one way of escape,” Mr.
Rivers said, slowly, and in such meaning tones
that Sibyl was suddenly hushed into intensest
interest.

“ A way—of escape! What is it? I would do
anything!”

“Marry Clifford Knight.”

The gleam of excitement in her eyes sud-
denly changed to one of contemptuousness and
angry disappointment.

“Tt is likely—very likely that the heir of Mt.
Severn woul marry a beggar!”

A little scheming look was in Mr. Rivers’s
pale eyes, and an unusual energy was in his
voice as he answered.

“That may all be, but you are not a beggar
yet, Sibyl. our uncle will not return for a
year; he and his bride are to travel until next
spring, and I.am to renovate and prepare Vin-
cent Place for their coming. You'have a year,
Sibyl, yet. No one knows the truth, no one
ever shall know. I will aid you by every
means in my power. Captivate Clifford Knight;

oucandoit. He is dead sure to inherit Mt.

evern and a princely income. Mr. Severn
will be only too delighted with such a marriage.
Play your cards well, and there is no reason
why you should not reign mistress over a home
scarcely less splendid than this.”

Sibyl twisted a diamond ring thoughtfully
around her finger—a light gleaming in her eyes
a determined look gathering on her re
mouth.

“T will do it, uncle Mark! Clifford Knight
shall fall in love with me, and marry me, and
by the time my uncle comes back I shall be
safely installed at Mt. Severn, with an assured
income, a good name, a proud position. I will
doit. I will begin at once!”

“Not at once, for Knight will be traveling all
summer. But, in the meantime, we will spend
all the money possible. You shall load your
jewel-cases with diamonds and other precious
stones. You shall buy velvets and laces to last
a lifetime in case of a possible defeat of our
plans. And in the fall, when Mr. Severn re-
turns to the city, and the cousins arrive, we
will take a residence on the avenue and begin
active measures. You can manage it, Sibyl.
Trust you for making your hay while your sun
shines.”

Her eyes glistened with excitement and reso-
lution.

‘*T would accomplish my purpose at any cost,
uncle Mark. It is easy enough to manage—so
far as gaining Clifford Knight is concerned.”

“ And I will manage my share. When Mr.
Vincent returns, no one will be more astounded
than you and I. We received no letter; we will
be overwhelmed with consternation, and Mr.
Severn will forgive your ea in his joy at
welcoming his old friend. It can be easily
done, Sibyl.”

“¢ And we will do it,” she said, determinedly.
*T will marry Clifford Knight.”

And at that very moment Clifford Knight
swore by all that was holy to win Stella Cari-
zelle for his wife!

 

CHAPTER IV.
‘CIN SIX MONTHS,’’

THe summer days, that were so slow in pass-
ing to Sibyl Vincent, in her impatience for the
time to come when she should begin her subju-
gation of Clitford Knight, were gliding by, like
some fair enchanted dream to Stella Carizelle
and Roy Claremont.

It was plain as anything could be to Clifford
Knight that Stella was daily becoming more
and more interested in her handsome suitor, but
the fact, instead of dampening the ardor of his
own passion for her only served to increase its
fiercer flames.

They were miserable days for him, warped
and spoiled by jealousy, and yet, he did not for
amoment dream of giving up his chances.

“T will win her, 2 will!” he ha ee in
im passion. ‘She is a girl for whom an
aaa can afford to wait, and I can work shd
wait. I swear to win her, in the face of all the
seeming fearful odds against me, in spite of any
poe obstacle that may arise, in ee of the
act that Claremont is richer and handsomer
than myself—in spite of the fact that she al-
ready loves him and dislikes me! I will devote
myself, body and-soul, will and strength, head
and heart, to win her, and in case, in the ex-
treme possibility of my not suceeeding, I would

not let any other man possess her!”

 

There was a hard, cold, yet passionate glow
in his eyes that indorsed “his evil resolutions.
So, the days went on—Olga Osmond longing
for the time when Roy Claremont should re-
turn, and Sibyl Vincent scarcely knowing how
to wait for Clifford Knight to come home, and
yet the young men stayed among the Thousand
slands, loth to leave the fair girl who had
changed their destinies so suddenly and unalter-

ably.

We are nearly at the end of our allotted
summering, did you know it?’ Clifford asked
his cousin, one bright late September morning.
‘We have been loitering here nearly four
months, Claremont.”

“Can it be possible? Four months! Such a
summer—it has been the happiest in my life.

‘‘ Notwithstanding, you have other duties in
life than making love to Miss Carizelle. Re-
member you are due at the old gentleman’s in
early October.”

“T remember, now that you speak of it, al-
though I confess I had nearly forgotten it. Yes,
we must be going.”

There was a thrill of bt regret in his
tone as he said it, that Knight perfectly com-
prehended.

“Mrs. Osmond would never forgive you if
you were derelict in your duty toward her,
Claremont. You are a lucky fellow, do you
know it? There’s not a handsomer woman in
New York city than Olga Osmond, and I feel
very certain she would not object to changing
her pretty name to Claremont.”

Roy reddened slightly.

“You are mistaken; Olga does not care for
me, in that way. I admire her, as every one
admires her, but, I think you know, as well as
I do, that I never have loved, or thought of
marriage until very lately. Why don’t you win
Olga for your wife, Knight? She will be a very
rich woman, and certainly the most fastidious
manco uld find no possible fault with her.”

“Jtis likely, isn’t it, that a beggar like me
could marry the heiress Olga Osmond will be?
Most assuredly I admire her—but her immense
fortune better. If I could marry money—”

He paused, the sentence remaining unfinished,
for his thoughts had for a second overwhelmed
him, ‘A greed for gold, an unquenchable ava-
rice was the leading characteristic of Clifford
Knight’s nature, and for one moment it oc-
curred to him that to marry unbounded wealth
he could relinquish even his passion for Stella
Carizelle. But only fora moment did he per-
mit the thought to assail him.

“T think we had better be leaving Alexan-
dria Bay soon,” Claremont said, slowly. ‘'‘ We
have promised ourselves a short tour to Niag-
ara, and if we intend to take it, and reach home
by the fifth, as we agreed, we must tear our-
selves away from here at once. To-day. And
I will go across to the Leighs instantly, and tell
them.”

There was a resolute, radiant ook in his face
that would have told a less shrewd man than
Knight what his errand to the island cottage
would be.

“Well,” Knight said, ‘‘I suppose you will go
on a ee personal matter. I dare say I
should say ‘bless you, my friend,’ but it seems
superfluous. A rich, handsome young fellow
like you, with an income princely in its size,
need have no fear of a refusal from an obscure
little girl who doesn’t even know her own
name, and who probably never ee ten
dollars in her life. You’ll succeed.”

‘ A look of annoyance was on Claremont’s
face.

‘You are unjust and bitter, Knight. If Miss
Carizelle should so honor me as to accept me as
her future husband, it will be on my own merits
alone, and not because of anything I happen to
possess.”

He spoke gravely, and a trifle coldly, and
went at once toward the river, while Knight
returned to the hotel to make preparations for
their immediate departure.

“He will go; he will tell her he loves her,
and she will promise to be his wife. So far, so
well! Then, the last thing before we leave, J
will go to Miss Carizelle, and tell her my story,
and if she is the proud, spirited creature I take
her to be, it will be the end of her brief engage-
ment with my handsomecousin. Then—for my
turn at wooing!”

Claremont went straight to the cottage, not
meeting Stella on the way, as he had secretly
hoped, but was shown at once into Mr. Leigh’s
cosey little study, where the gentleman received
him with the quiet cordiality he always mani-
fested toward him.

“My stay must be brief,” Claremont said,
courteously. ‘I have come on a matter of the
most serious importance. I want you to give
me your permission to go to Miss Carizelle and
ask her to be my’ wife, ai love her with all my
heart.”

Mr. Leigh looked as he felt, wholly sur-
prised. -

“You want to marry Stella? You, a rich
gentleman, high in social rank, and she, a poor,
obscure girl who has lived all her life in retire-
ment and reserve?”

“She is any man’s equal, with all her ob-
scurity and poverty, even if he were a king on

 

 

his throne. She is a lady—the’only woman I
ever wanted to make my wife. I can raise her
toa position of luxury and ease, to which she
will bean honor. I think she cares for me; 1
know I will devote my life to her happiness.
What more can I say, sir?”

Mr. Leigh drew his forehead up in a thought
ful frown, then looked steadfastly in the hand-
some, eager face oper him.

“T take you tc an honorable, straightior-
ward man, Mr. Claremont, who pays an honor
to my niece that we never can forget. I believe
you love her, or, at least, 1 believe you think

ou do. No! let me finish. Stella is young,

eautiful, innocent—fit to be, as you say, the
wife of a king on his throne, or, what isa higher
lory, the loved wife of a good man. But, Mr.

Jlaremont, there are two reasons why I hesi-
tate to say yes. One, your acquaintance has
been so short, that you do not know but that
you are simply infatuated with her loveliness.”

Claremont smiled, proudly.

: yet think I am the best judge of my own heart,
sir.

“Yes,” Mr. Leigh said, threading his long
thin fingers nervously through his scanty hair;
“but Iam thinking of Stella's happiness. Jf

se should learn, too late, you were too

asty—

“Prove me, sir,” Claremont interrupted, ea-
gerly. ‘‘Prove me, sir, in any way that will
convince you how truly I love her.”

“Very well. You say you are going away.
Come back again, six months from to-day, have
no communication whatever with her in the in-
terim, associate freely with other women—and
if you come back and tell me your thoughts and
eee have in nowise altered, you may have

er.

Claremont forced himself to listen, and then,
argued his case with all the ardor and skill of a

sionate, persistent lover. But, Mr. Leigh was
inflexible; Stella was young; she could afford to
wait; she must wait.

“Six months is a very little while to wait,”
he said. ‘If you love each other, it will be as
a day. I waited eleven years, Mr. Claremont,
before I could earn a salary sufficient to sup-
port the woman I loved.”

Claremont bowed. to Mr. Leigh’s grave dé-
cision, forced to acquiesce,

“‘T will come again, in six months, and I tell
you now it will be to take my bride away with
me,

“There is another matter to be considered,”
Mr. Leigh said, gravely. ‘‘ You know Stella is
not my niece? You may, or may not, know
that neither she nor I know anything whatever
of her parentage. Who or what she was, we
never knew, or cared. Weoniy know she is the
sweetest, dearest girl God ever sent into a home
to brighten it.”

“And yet, you doubt my true, deathless love
for her!” Claremont said, passionately. ‘It
does not matter to me what her people were,
any more than it doesto you. I will guard and
cherish and protect her all the more tenderly
when I know she will have no one in the world
to Ps to but me. May I see her before I

‘04

Mr. ee looked puzzled.

“Would it be best? Of course you must bid
her good-by, but, remember you are to be silent
or your intentions, about your love for

er.

She was summoned to the study—so fair, so
radiant, that, for a moment, it seemed to Clare-
gg that he had not the power to restrain him-
self,

“Mr. Claremont is going away, Stella,” Mr.
Leigh said, kindly, ‘‘and he has come to bid us
adieu.”

Claremont looked at her, his whole soul in his
worshiping eyes, as he took her hand that quiv-
ered so in his own.

“‘Tleave you to-day, Stella,” he said, gently.
“This is good-by until I come to you again in
the early spring. Good-by, Stella—”

The tender flushes on her sweet face were all
gone, and she stood before him, pale and sor-
row-stricken, her lovely blue eyes revealing her
heart’s secret as freely as his own.

_It was more than Claremont could bear, The
— of her sorrow, her pain, her regret, for his
sake, robbed bim of his stern self-control, and
he suddenly drew her to him, kissing her over
and over again.

_ “My darling, geod-by. Remember, I am com-
ing in six months!”

And then he rushed forth from the cottage—
to begin his period of probation, while Stella
went to her own room, overwhelmed with emo-
tions too sacred for utterance.

For a long while Mr. Leigh sat in his study,
et upon it all.

“TY wonder if I have done right about it? Six
months is not so long to wait, but—so man
things may happen in a much shorter time. It
roust be right that I should test his devotion to
her—but, if in the meantime, anything should
happen to us, what would become of her? So
much can happen in six months!”

If he could have looked into the future and
read what was stored there for fair, bright
Stella during that time, he would have known
why his mind misgave him as it did,

 

 
 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

5

 

CHAPTER V.
THE WORK PROGRESSING.

An hour or more after Roy Claremont had
left the island cottage, and while he was en-
gaged in one or two items of importance that
required his personal attention before leaving,
Clifford Knight rowed over to pay his adieus to
Mr. Leigh, full of jealous bitterness and strong
evil resolution to do all in his power toward
hurting Claremont’s cause with Stella.

Not having seen Claremont since his inter-
view with Mr. Leigh and Stella, Clifford Knight

of course had no positive knowledge of the con-

dition of affairs, although it was possible for
him to be accurately sure that Claremont had
proposed for Stella’s hand, and, in all human
probability, been accepted.

To begin his nefarious plans of sowing dis-
trust.and misery, he now went to the island
cottage, and found Mr. Leigh still sitting where
Claremont had left him, and still in deepest
ee
‘You will pardon my unannounced intru-
sion,” he said, ee and extending his hand
in respectful cordiality. ‘‘ My excuse is, that I
have come to say good-by. My cousin told
you we were about to leave Alexandria Bay?’

‘“‘Mr, Claremont has only just left us, after
saying farewell. Iam sorry you find it neces-
sary to leave us, Mr. Knight. The coming
month, October, is our pleasantest season.”

Knight smiled, as he rolled and unrolled his
soft felt hat. ;

“As far as I am _ personally concerned I
would prefer to stay, but Claremont thinks he
must go, and, indeed, I suppose he realiy should
return, You know, sir, where there is a fair
Jady in the case, a fellow’s coming and going
are somewhat apt to be under orders.”

A sudden, puzzled look went over Mr. Leigh’s
thoughtful face,

“Pardon me, Mr. Knight—did I understand

‘ou to intimate that Mr. Claremont’s interest
in a lady is the cause of his sudden determina-
tion to return?”

Knight looked surprised at the straightfor-
‘ward question.

‘Is it possible you did not know? Have not

thered from chance remarks Claremont or I

ave made that he is the luckiest fellow imagi-
nable in having been engaged for the last six
months to his cousin, a most beautiful woman—
a widow, heiress to an immense fortune?”

He spoke with admirable enthusiasm, secretly
‘wondering how he should manage to arrive at
a knowledge of the exact condition of affairs.

A Te gravity spread over Mr. Leigh’s
face, and Knight’s quick ears detected a tremor
of pain in the words of his rejoinder.

“*T did not know anything of the kind. Iam
astonished beyond measure. I am bewildered.
Mr. Knight, not an hour ago, your cousin, Mr.
Claremont, came tome and asked my permis-
sion to address my niece as his wife. could
have staked iy life on his singleness of inten-
tion.

A look of superbly simulated dismay and dis-
tress was in Knight’s eyes.

‘Ts it possible? Can it be possible! I knew,
of course, that my cousin admired Miss Cari-
zelle as no gentleman could fail to do who knew
her—but—then—I am completely taken aback,
sir. I know it is the pride and delight of
Llaremont’s life that he expects to marry the
charming Mrs. Osmond. Iam positively aware
that the marriage will be the only acceptable
one, to his family, that he can make. I think I
may safely sa: ow he has not the slightest
intention of giving Mrs. Osmond up; no man in
his senses would, for she is rich, yours, beauti-
ful, and adores him. But, what he can have
meant by such a strange proceeding as this—?”

He walked up and down the room, in appar-
ent troubled self-questioning, his face grave, his
manner depressed and thoughtful.

‘“‘T was conscious of an inability to give Mr.
Claremont a promptly favorable answer; I
hardly could satisfy aye why, and since he
has gone I aie perhaps I did wrong in in-
sisting on a delay of six months. But, I see
now—it was an instinct that warned me.”

Knight’s heart throbbed with evil exultation.
Six months’ delay in giving his answer.

“T think you were wise, sir. Of course, you
will appreciate the delicacy of the position in
which ¥ am placed in regard to the affair.
Claremont is my relative, and my friend, and a
first-rate fellow, but, all these recommendations
do not excuse him to me, for having been guilty
of such—foolishness, to put the most charitable
construction upon it. I can only account for it
in one way. He has permitted a temporary in-
fatuation to make him forget his honor and his
duty to his betrothed. For Miss Carizelle’s sake
it is to be regretted with all our souls.”

Mr. Leigh drooped his gray head in silent
thoughtfulness as he listened, every word of
Knight’s sounding so honest and true.

‘Tho poor little girl! Yes, for Stella’s sake,
I would give all I own to undo it. She—loves
him, f think.”

‘©All women do, sir. Wherever he goes, he
fascinates and charms them, and, in turn, seems
interested for a while. I am sorry, upon my
soul; Lam sorry he has behaved so—here.”

Mr. Leigh reached out his thin, long hand,

eh

 

 

“Let me thank you for the great service you
have rendered me, Mr. Knight. I wish you had
told me of this before—it would have saved so
much; it would have spared Stella. Although
I forbade an understanding between them, un-
til Mr. Claremont should have taken six months
to weigh the matter, still, I know they—pardon
me—I cannot bear to remember that look in my
poor little girl’s eyes when he kissed her good-by
and told her he was coming to her again in the

spring.” ; 2
Knight shook his handsome head in sorrowful

sadness.

“Poor little girl! He will never come, Mr.
Leigh! He wil] be married to Mrs. Osmond be-
fore that time.”

And then, they shook hands, and with rare
self-restraint Knight forbore from asking to
see Stella, but left his adieus with Mr. Leigh,
and then went back to the hotel exultant, elated
beyond his wildest expectations.

‘I flatter myself I have gained a foothold
there,” he told himself. .

Several hours later Claremont and he were
on their way to New York, in the fast express,
in the lovely autumn twilight, at the same time
that Stella Carizelle, coming down from her
little white draperied bedroom, went softly into
the study, where she knew she would be sure to
find Mr. Leigh at this favorite hour of his.

“Is it you, Stella, my darling? Come in and
sit with me a little while. What, you have not
been—crying, child?”

For, as she came slowly toward him, he saw |>’

that her eyes, although half-shyly cast down,
were red and swollen.

‘‘I—was—lonesome. That is all, uncle. I
have been thinking how dreary the island will
seera all the long Canadian winter.”

‘‘And yet, you never dreaded the winter be-
fore,” he said, tenderly, as he reached out his
arm and drew ber closely to his side. ‘‘It is
not so much'the prospect of that, Stella, as how
much co will miss your summer friends. So
shall I miss them. Let us console one an-
other.”

She blushed a rosy red, and half-averted her

‘ace.

‘‘T have something about which I wish to talk
to you. Something that is not at all pleasant—
that grieves and oppresses me. And yet, I feel
that you should be told; I feel that you should
be etre your share of the burden, in order to
understand all that may come.”

Her beautiful young face grew strong and
resolute, with a girlish gravity that was touch-
ing to see,

“T will eee share your burdens,
Tell me. hatever it is, I will bear it.”

He was silent a little longer, his eyes fixed far
out on the slow-falling gloaming. Then he drew
a long sigh as he neryed himself to the pitiful
task he believed to be his duty.

“T want to speak about Mr. Claremont. To-
day, just before he bade you good-by, he asked
my permission to address you in view of mar-
riage.

dazzlingly glorious look flashed from her
blue eyes, and her face flushed and paled under
the sweet, strong emotion that effectually pre-
vented her replying.

Mr. Leigh went on:

“T heard him, and told him—to come again in
six months for his answer.”

A happy, radiant tenderness and pride glowed
all over her fair pouns face. Roy Claremont
loved her! Roy Claremont, of all men her king,
her god! He loved her and wanted her for his
wife, and he was coming for jhis answer in six
little months! To Stella, it seemed more than
enough, and with a little sigh of rapturous de-
light she looked shyly at Mr. Leigh.

‘*Oh, uncle! It seems too blessed to be true.
Tam the proudest, happiest girl in all the world
to-night!’

He laid his hand on her bright young head,
as if in silent effort to ward off her young life
the blight that must so soon fall upon it.

“My dear little girl! I have told you the
pleasant part of it. Now—for the burden!
Stella, my child, I do not believe Mr. Claremont
will ever come back.”

Gentle, considerate, deprecating as his words
were, Stella looked with sudden, wondering eyes
that cut him to his very soul.

“Why not? Because I am a poor, obscure

irl? He knew that.”

“Not that. Mr. Claremont has no need to
look for riches with his bride. But he is of an
ardent, eager, impulsive temperament, Stella—
one of those men of society and fashion in whom
the glamour of a passion is so apt to die out
afteratime. Itold him so,and he agreed to
come again in six mouths,”

A proud, bappy light glowed in her eyes, and
she smiled up in his grave, pitying face.

** And you think he will not come? Yes, he
will come, for he loves me, and—I love him.
He will come. I can wait in trust and hope.”

A moan of bitter pain was on his lips.

 “Thatis not all,dear. When I say I think
he will never come back, it is for still another
reason, Stella! Now you need your courage,
your religion. Mr. Claremont is engaged to an-
other lady, his cousin—rich, young, eae
whom he will marry even before the six mon

uncle,

‘referring to your foolish marriage.

 

areup. I have it on undisputed authority. My
child, God help you. Don’t let it break your
heart.”

Fora sudden, pitiful change had come over
her face, a passionate anguish to her sweet eyes.
Around her lovely mouth cruel, tense lines
showed themselves, and an unspeakable bitter-
ness, despair and agony was on all her features,

“Unele! No—no!” she gasped, and then see-
ing the sorrowful agitation on his worn, weary
face, Stella gave way to a burst of passionate

mer ee:

“T thank God for your tears,” he cried, bro-
kenly, his own eyes dim with the big drops.
‘*God knows I would havespared you if I could.
But, a thought came to me that I could not con-
quer—to tell you all, to put you on your guard,
while there is yet time. No one knows what a
day may bring forth. And, may my God lead

| you, and guide you, and keep you, my innocent

child—in this your first trial.

They were the last words he ever spoke to
her. ng before the next twilight fell, his
pure, gentle spirit had been called home to rest,
suddenly and peacefully; and, overwhelmed,
dazed with a sense of utter loneliness and grief,
and heart-broken pain, his wife did not survive
him a week, and on the evening that Roy Clare-
mont and Clifford Knight arrived in New York,
Stella Carizelle was utterly alone in the world,
and already entered on the oo of perils await-
ing her unconscious young feet!

CHAPTER VI.
: ON THE VERGE.

THE arrival of Mr. Severn created a pleasant
little excitement, during which, pale and hag-
gard, Olga Osmond, standing in the darkness of
her.own room to which she had fled after her
strange interview with Mr. Welsh, was despe-
rately trying to banish from her face and man-
ner all traces of agitation, and endeavoring to
summon to her lips a smile of welcome.

It had been several months since she had seen
Mr. Severn, and she had looked forward to
mean him with feelings of genuine pleasure
—not that she was so ardently attached to him,
or that she particularly enjoyed his society,
but because she had confidently counted on his
services in her siege to Roy Claremont’s affec-

tions.

And, to think his return should be marked b
such an untoward event as had just happened!
It thrilled her with fear and desperation as she
recalled thatinterview with Jerome Welsh, and
his cool, positive assurances,

That he had by some means obtained posses-
sion of the one dark page in the history of her

ast, Mrs. Osmond did not doubt. His manner

ad been too significant to admit of a question
on that score. He had discovered her secret—
her “‘hideous secret” he had called it—and, on
the strength of his knowledge, he would perse-
cute her.

She knew him well enough to know he was
capable of anything, and as she stood there, in
the warm, perfumed dusk of her splendid apart-
ment, Olga Osmond fought desperately against
a fear that was creeping surely, slowly, chill-
ingly, over her.

Presently, she turned around and went down-
stairs, knowing that to delay her welcome any
longer would be to be guilty of rudeness to Mr.
Severn.

At the drawing-room door she hesitated one
brief instant, and by sheer force of will brought
a light to her eyes, a warm glow to her face, a
sparkling vivacity in her manner, and then
walked hastily, eagerly in the room toward
him, holding out both hands in bewitching wel-
come.

 

“Uncle! What a pleases to see you once
vest I am so delighted to welcome you
ome!

He was standing in front of the cheery grate
fire, his hands crossed at his back, a noble, splen-
did man, with a look of command in his blue
eyes, and in his very carriage—tall, erect,
portly, manly—a man whom a woman could
not fail to admire, whom she would instinctively

t and trust and honor.

o Olga’s utter astonishment, Mr. Severn did
not take her hands. He bowed coldly, gravely,
and met her bewildered look with one of stead-
fast oe

“Before Ican ever touch your hand again,
Olga, there must bea perfect understanding be-
tween us. Sitdown. Since I have been at Mt.
Severn, I have come into possession of certain
facts in which you are intimately interested—
which you must either disprove or—”

Sa had regained somewhat of her control
over herself while he was speaking.

“T am entirely at a loss to know what you
mean,” she said, with admirably assumed hiv1-
teur, “TI know that you were dreadfully angry
with me for marrying poor Field, but if you
knew how bitterly I repented it, myself, you
would drive all memory of it from you.”

He looked at her steadily.

“T think you are fully aware that I not

npar-
donable though it was, it was noble and santell
in comparison to the facts I have in my pos
session. I speak calmly, Olga; the heat of
awful passion is passed; the horror and venge<
 

x

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

   
 
 

mi) ance T exferiericed at first are gone, but—never

again will you be to me what you were when I

bade you good-by in May.”

Olga sunk back in her chair, utterly over-
whelmed. Had Mr. Severn, too, discovered her
secret? Had he come to denounce her, and—
her face grew pale almost to ghastliness at the
thought, while Mr. Severn regarded her with a
Ng _ smile that was cold as ice and full of mockery.

i ““ You have done that—or at least I believe
hg have—which precludes the possibility of

‘orgiveness on my part. The evidence in my

possession is very strong, and yet, believing in

ustice, I shall listen to your side of the story.

We need not be sworn enemies because friend-

ship is impossible.” .

t She would have given half she expected to
‘possess to conciliate him. She sprung from her
chair in honest, desperate eagerness, and step-
ped up near him, so fair, so beautiful in her

" ‘pleading, :

“Don’t say-such terrible things to me, uncle!
Let me have my own old place in your affec-
tion! Let me be your daughter—your loving
child—your—” : :

_- He stepped sharply away from her, his lips
curling under his gray mustache.

' “How dare you use those sacred words to

me? ‘My daughter,’ Olga! My little child’s

‘ave yawns between you and me. And I be-

_ lieve, as much as I believe I am speaking to you,
that it was your hand who put her in it! hen
I think of it, when I dare stop and think of it, I
could curse you! I could strike you down at
my feet! She was all I had, all that was left to
me, and you, in your jealousy, conspired to rob
me of her, and bring my gray hairs in scrrow
to the grave!”

Olga recoiled in utter horror from before him;

her ae dilated, her lips pale and quivering.

“Uncle! Uncle? How can youaccuse me of

such an awful crime? How can you?” she went
on, vehemently. ‘‘She was my cousin, my own
blood, and yet you think—you dare to think—
such an awful thing!”

“JT do dare to think it, and accuse you to
your face. Until I married, you were my legal

eiress. After I married, you were envious and
jealous of my gentle little wife, and when my

_ daughter was born your rage and envy knew
no bounds, You remember what followed—

my wife’s decline into consumption, the physi-

- gian’s orders that she was at once to be taken

to Florida for the winter, my inability to ac-

- company her in consequence of a prolonged at-

tack of rheumatism to which I was a prisoner
_ for months in myroom. You remember you

_ went with my wife and the child. You remem-
ber—they both came home—in their coffins!”

- and a huskiness came into his voice which told
that seventeen years had not worn the bitter-
ness all away.

Olga listened, fascinated, her breath comin
in iatoven gasps. It seemed toher that an awf
horror had suddenly ingulfed her. ;

“TJ pbelieve my wife died in the ordinary
course of nature,” he went on, ‘‘and until a few
weeksago I believed my little child had inherited
the same constitutional malady. Hei emaci-
ated little body seemed proof of this reasonable

_ fact, and it never occurred to me to even think

of anything else until—now, I charge you, Olga

- Osmond, with having caused her death. Not

by poison, not by blows, not by vulgar weapons,

but—when her mother lay dying and you were
in sole charge, and I far away, helpless to inter-
fere, I solemnly believe you cruelly neglected
and starved her, deliberately and systemati-
ally, and sent her little emaciated body home

- to me—that you might once more be installed

as my heiress.” 7

“Uncle! How can you—how dare you say

such words to me?” she exclaimed, indignantly,

for she was recovering from her cowardly ter-
rors, as if by some miraculous agency.

_ Mr. Severn did not answer, but turned his

face toward the fire, away from her, to hide

the bitterness the interview had called up—to
hide the sight of her from his eyes. For several

- moments he stood thus, struggling for calm-

ness, and, at least outwardly, succeeded, for

- when he resumed his position, with his back to

_ the mantle, his grand face was cold and impas-

sive as that of a marble statue.

“Enough has been said. Although you have
not, in so many words, denied the charge, yet
it is not because you did not intend to. It may
barely ible that I am mistaken—barely

fey ible, mind you, but, feeling as I do, you

- will understand'the position you are to occupy
in this house—as my guest, nothing more,
Have you seen Claremont since his return from
Canada?” ;

_ Hechanged the subject with an imperative
abruptness that was quite startling, and with a

_sigh of rapturous delight Olga accepted its dis-

by

     
     
   
  
   
  
     
 
    
 
   
   

 
 
 
  
  
    
    
    
   
   
  
  
    
      
  
 
   
   
   
  
   

 
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
  
 
 
    
   
 
    
   

™m .
 “T have not seen him yet, although I expect-
edhim. What a long time he has been gone!”
All her cowardly fears had vanished, and she
‘was once more the polished, elegant lady of so-
ciety, leaning gracefully back in her satin-
Pestioned chair, twisting her diamond rings in
~ idle thoughtfulness. “y
Mr. Severn looked down at her really won-
drous beauty, j

  
  
     
  

    

   
  

   

 

“Are you engaged to Claremont, Olga? I
have heard it several times.” :

Her face flushed warmly, and she drooped
her dark head in coquettish confusion.

“Rumor is somewhat too soon in speaking,
uncle. We are not exactly engaged, but—”

She hesitated, in charming embarrassment.

“T will puta plainer question. Do you like

im?

-An answer was almost superfluous, so elo-
quent was the sudden delicious glow on her
face, so soft was the half-smiling curve around
her mouth.

“Indeed I like him,” she said, with an honest
frankness. ‘‘Yes, more, uncle; I—love him
with all my heart. He has been so good and
kind and attentive tome in so many ways. I
am sure [can bring him to my feet in a very
little while—whenever I choose, now.”

Mr. Severn’s lip curled.

“Don’t build your air-castles toohigh. There
are several things to take into consideration:—
first, you are too nearly the same age, with the
difference on your side. On my way home I
met a gentleman who has been spending several
weeks up in the St. Lawrence valley, and who
had seen considerable of your cousins, and he
said that Roy was undeniably smitten with a
lovely young girl they met, a_ perfect little
beauty, fit to queen it anywhere.”

Olga leaned back in her chair, suddenly

pale.

“Impossible!” she said, hoarsely. ‘‘ Who
could it be?”

“You can take the rumor for what it is
worth,” he said, coolly. ‘‘The name I did not
hear. Another thing: Claremont is one of the
noblest of men, generous, frank, honorable—a
man to command any woman’s reverence, and
to win any woman’s love. He is rich, enjoys
high social distinction, and his wife, when he
marries, will be lifted to a hightsof enviable
happiness that few women reach. He deserves
all the good the gods can give—but, Olga, if you
are the weman I believe you to be, I would
rather see him in his grave than your husband.
If—if—it is possible Iam mistaken, his love for
you, and yours for him, may elevate you into
anoble woman. And now I think we under-
stand each other. If Roy Claremont marries
you, I shall accept it as a proof that fn are
not the woman take you to be, for I believe
his instincts would lead him from you if you
were, If he marries you, I will be on friendly
terms with you, and will formally make you
heiress to a very considerable portion of my
wealth. As for the young girl up among the
islands, wait until you know more about it.
And now, I will dress for dinner, for I see the
hour is growing late.”

He bowed courteously and withdrew, leaving
Olga alone with her thoughts. :

ale and dismayed she walked up and down
the room, filled with a vague, shrinking pain,
and sickening apprehension as she strove to look
into the future.

‘‘What shall I do?” she asked herself in pas-
sionate earnestness, as she twisted her rings
uervously round and round, quite unconscious
of the troubled motion. ‘I am beset on all
sides. I love Roy Claremont with all my heart
and soul—I love him, [love him! And he has
met a fair young girl, a ‘little beauty, fit to
queen it anywhere,’ and, in all human proba-
bility, is in love with her! Jerome Welsh swears
to marry me, and I hate him—loathe him—de-
spise him—I am afraid of him! I am lessafraid
of death than of him! What can I do? I
will not marry him; I would take my own life
first. All my hopes depend upon my marry-
ing my cousin--even to the disarming uncle
Severn of his suspicions, that cut so near—not
quite—home! And yet—if I make Welsh an-
gry with me, if Ido not give him his desired
answer—he can plunge me into hopeless despair
and infamy and ruin!” and flinging herself
down upon the floor before the elegant lounge,
she gave way to a passionate burst of grief, as,
with upturned face that was impressed with the
pallor of horror, she continued:

‘What shall I do? What can I do? Iam
standing upon the verge of an awful abyss,
with pitfalls and horror on every side, and a
tae way means danger to the death.”

as it any wonder her whole nature recoiled
in dreadful apprehension from the fate that the
future held?

 

CHAPTER VII.
BAD BLOOD WILL TELL.

THE handsome suit of rooms in the Fifth
Avenue Hotel, that were permanently at the
disposal of Mr. Claremont, were brilliantly
lighted and generally warm, and dinner was
spread for two in.one of the pleasant Pree
for Mr. Claremont had invited Clifford night
to dine, and it was a preference of his never to
take a guest to the table d’ héte.

Both gentlemen were in plain evening dress,
and Knight seemed in eaeny, good spirits,
that made him look even handsomer in his
dark, robust beauty than usual, whereas Clare-
mont was graver than usual—and had been,
with a careworn look about his eyes—ever since

 

he had parted from the girl he loved, a week
before, .

ee

He loved her with all the strength and ardor

of his grand, passionate soul. He had spoken
only the truth; when he had told Mr. Leigh he
never had loved a woman before he saw Stella

Carizelle, and to her he gave the full power and
might of an affection reserved until his mature
manhood, and to be compelled to bide his time
of waiting, was a discipline bitterly hard for
him to endure.

As they sat together over the dinner, the dif-
ference between the two men was most sin-

larly marked—Claremont, grave, noble, fair,

night, gay, yet with a watchful, sinister look
in his eyes, which, as though he were unplea-~
santly conscious of the treacherous part he had
set himself to play, never quite fully and stead-
pe met Claremont’s.

‘We are due at the old gentleman’s at eight,
are we not? I can imagine Olga’s impatience
to see you, Claremont,” Knight said, in an off-
handed manner. ‘I wonder what she will say
when she learns that you have lost your heart
to the little island beauty. I imagine you will
find opposition, old fellow.”

“‘T do not know any reason why it should so
seriously interest her,” he returned, thought-
fully. ‘‘ You persist in saying that my cousin.
Olga honors me by considering mea favorite
of hers, and you_will allow me to persist in
correcting you. Ishould be more sorry than I
can say to find opposition to Miss Carizelle-
from any of my family, but at the same time F
should be governed entirely by my own feel-
ings.

e Of course you should be,” Knight answered,,
sympathetically. ‘‘ But, on the other side, it is:
only natural that people will believe Miss Cari-
zelle a fortunate adventuress in having so suc-
cessfully secured a good parti. It is the way of
the world, you know.” ;

Claremont’s fair face flushed warmly. —

“Tt never occurred to me that any one would
think of such a thing in connection with a
woman I loved. You who know her, Knight
who can judge ina perfectly cool, dis assioned.
manner, will find it a delightful task to con-
vince any one whoshou d fall into such an error.”

“T should be most happy to be of service,”
Knight returned, scarcely: able to conceal the:
distasteful bitterness Claremont’s words caused
him. ‘I tell you in all frankness,” he went on,,
with apparent cordiality, ‘‘that I do antici-
pate opposition from both the old gentleman
and Olga. It will be only human that they do
disapprove, until they see and know how charm-
ing a girl Miss Carizelle is. Allow me to ask
one question, Claremont. Are you formally
engaged to her?” : : .

Iam not,” he returned, gravely, “and yet
I consider myself so. I promised Mr. Lei
would go back in six months and ask her to be:
my wife—in deference to his peculiar wishes.
I how I love her with all my heart, Knight,
and I am almost certain she loves me.

His handsome face lighted up as it had not
done for days, and in equal proportion Knight’s.
darkened, and he frowned.

“Well, it is all rather curious. Su the
old gentleman refuses to countenance Miss Cari-
zelle? Suppose he tells you, in that lordly wa;
of his we both know so well, that he has set. his
heart upon other things for you? That his
great desire is to see you make a brilliant mar~
riage, in a social sense?” ‘

e watched Claremont closely. He knew so
well that Claremont had a great affection and
respect for Mr. Severn, and that it had always
been his aim and effort to please him, even in
trivial things. ‘

“There would be but one course to pursue,”
Claremont said, gravely. ‘I should arrange:
for him to see Stella, and after that I would
have no fear of his withholding his cordial ap-
proval. If you will excuse me just a moment,,
Knight, while I write an urgent letter that must:
be mailed before I go?” :

Knight arose from the table, and walked up
and down the room, his hands plunged im his.
pockets, his eyes bent on the floor, his face evilly
exultant.

““What an unsuspicious fellow he is! Sup-
ose he knew all that [know? That I love Miss
Jarizelle, too, and have sworn to take her from

him? That I had that very delightful interview
with Mr. Leigh, and how auspiciously it pro-

ressed? 1 wonder what he would say if he
nee I intended to pay a visit to Alexandria
Bay in a month or so, on my own responsibility ?
And how, while he is securely absent, I shall
have it all my own way? A few dainty pres-
ents to the fair Stella, a few plausible lies; sym-
pathy and devotion is almost sure to win the
day. If not—I’ll win it anyhow!”

When Claremont returned, ten minutes later,
ready to start for Mr. Severn’s house, all signs:
of the dark exultation and evil deli ht were-

‘one from Clifford Knight’s face, and he linked
fis arm familiarly in Claremont’s as they-went:
through the wide corridors and down-stairs to:
the close carriage waiting at the door.

A few minutes’ drive brought them to Mr.
Severn’s home, where the lights streamed from —
the many windows, giving a peculiarly cheer--
ful appearance to air mansion, and Clare-
mont’s ae lighted with pleasure at the antici--
pation of seeing his uncle again. © Hewifon 3h

 

 

 

  

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

‘IN MORTAL PERIL.

 
 
  

7

 

 

“After all, there is no place like home,
Knight,” he said, as they went up the brown-
stone eg and were ushered in by the servant
who looked his delight at sight of them.

Claremont stopped to say a kindly word to
him, in that pleasant, courteous way that made
his inferiors almost idolize him, while Knight,
with a careless nod, went directly into the li-
brary where he was almost certain to find Mr.
Severn, and where, as he expected, that gentle-
man was seated.

Olga was with them, and they had been talk-
ing of the two young men when Knight en-
tered, smiling, at ease.

Mr. Severn looked up, and bowed, not with

rticular delight in his manner, and extended
is hand toward his nephew.

“T am glad to see you. I rather expected
you. Howare you? Where is Roy?”

Knight grasped the outreached hand in re-
spectful greeting, and answered Mr. Severn’s
stately remarks.

“He is with me. I am delighted to be at
home again, to have the opportunity of seeing
you at looking so well, sir. Cousin Olga, this
is indeed a charming pleasure.”

He went up to her, and stooped and lightly
kissed her cheek.

** You should be scolded for so tardily paying
our devoirs, Clifford,” she said, with a little
augh, but he saw the glance toward the door

by which Claremont would enter.

‘*We arrived only yesterday, tired and
travel-stained, after a dusty, tedious journey,
and—

A rap at the door, followed by a servant, in-

aes Knight.

“Mr. Claremont,” he announced, and Roy
entered the room, Mr. Severn’s eyes lighting as
they had not mie at sight of Clifford Knight,
while Olga’s cheeks flushed warmly and her
dark eyes sparkled as she went forward to meet
him, giving him her hand, and feeling the con-
tact of his, warm, thrilling as a gentle electric
force.

“Tam glad you are back. It has been very
long since you went away,” she said, lifting her
wondrously beautiful face, and Mr. Severn
ones. his other hand with glad cordiality.

“The sight of you is like a draught of wine to
a fainting man, my dear boy! Sit down—sit
down, Clifford.”

A pleasant little interchange of questions fol-
lowed, and Mr. Severn closely watched them
all—these three cousins, whose fates were so
closely intertwined.

He was endeavoring, as he sat there, and lis-
tened, to reconcile himself to Olga Osmond, to
lay aside the bitter feelings against her, and the
desperate effort made him even more dissatis-
fied than ever.

“Tt must be that I have wronged her,” he
thought, as he looked at her beautiful, intel-
ligent face, and listened to the sweet, low tones
of her voice; ‘‘she surely cannot be as bad as I
have thought, and yet—the proofs I have in my

sion! I wish I had never known. I wish
could conquer the awful thoughts. I will try
to, with all my strength, and Twill do what
can to make a better woman of her by advising
her marriage to Roy; that she loves him is easy
to see.”
From Olga and Roy his gaze went to Clifford

_ Knight, standing in a graceful laziness of atti-

tude beside the low silver mantle, sustaining his
share in the conversation with well-bred ease
and entertaining skill.

“T wonder why f[ never liked him as well as
Roy? Perhaps because I despised his father so
thoroughly—a mean, unscrupulous, designing
man as eyer broke a woman’s loving heart.
Handsome as an angel, vile asadevil. YetI
never saw any of the father’s character in the
son; justice should prevent harsh feelings to-
ward hith. He is a gentleman and has man-
aged well on the income I allow him—remarka-
bly well. He ought to have a rich wife. It
would be a pe pleasure to me to see my
nephews both well provided for. Roy married
to Olga—if she is not the woman I take her to
be—and Clifford married to the heiress of Vin-
cent Place.”

He looked keenly out from under his bushy
gray brows at Knight’s dark, handsome

‘ace.

“That face of his should have won him some
girl’s heart before this. I wonder it he is heart-
free? I wouldn’t have any one marry where
there was no love to give.”

“Clifford,” he said, so abruptly, that he star-
tled them all for a second, ‘would it not be a
good idea if you and I left Olga and Roy to dis-
cuss their summer dissipations, while we enjoy
a quiet smoke in the billiard-room?” ‘

night instantly assented, and accompanied
Mr. Severn up-stairs to the billiard-room, where
choice cigars were ordered.

“J have brought you here, purposely, Clif-
ford,” he said, pointedly. ‘‘Thereis a matter
about which I have thought, more or less, for
some time past, and which I oe to lay be-
fore you to-night. Are you heart-free?”

Knight looked puzzled, and, for a moment,

uncertain. >
‘‘Heart-free, sir. I have never given much

thought to love and marriage.”

1
1,

 

In his mind he was revolving what Mr. Severn
could mean.

“Very good, so far. Perhaps you may be
aware of the fact that I am desirous that your
cousin Roy and Olga should marry—at least you
willsoregardit. You, too, are my blood kin, and
I think it is only natural that I should also like
to see you well settled. I have in my minda
young lady, heiress to a superb fortune, a

andsome young woman of about twenty, who
would make a desirable parti for you. What
do you say to trying your luck?”
night’s dark face flushed, then paled. He
was thrilled with wild ambition at the golden
prospect, yet the pure, sweet face of the girl he
oved with all the fierce strength of his per-
verted nature, came between him and the bright
vision. To be Stella Carizelle’s husband, seemed
the hight of human happiness; but—to marry a
rich woman, to be higher in social position than
he ever could hope to be, as a poor young man
on a thousand a year, to live in, and be master
of the luxury he loved—was a temptation too
subtle to banish.

Nor was he sure he wished to banish it. His
ever ready brain, fertile with invention, had
already suggested a thought that brought a
bright glitter to his evil eyes, and, despite him-
self, his voice thrilled with triumph as he an-
swered:

“T would be more or less than buman if I
would. let sucha chance slip by. With your
consent and approval, I would very much like
to meet this youn; pay, Who is she, uncle?”

“Her name is ‘Siby Vincent—ah, I thought
you’d recognize the name.”

Sibyl Vincent! In Knight’s wildest imagina-
tion, he never would have aspired to the hand
of a girl so reputedly fabulously wealthy.

Sibyl Vincent, of Vincent Place! To reign
master there was almost too much to dare hope,
and for a moment he forgot Stella Carizelie.

“Miss Vincent and her household have just
established themselves in her town house for
the season, arriving to-day, as I learn by a note
from her uncle, Mr. Rivers. I have an invi-
tation from Miss Vincent for you and Roy to
call upon her when convenient. We will wait
upon her to-morrow.”

And Clifford Knight, full of exultant satis-
faction, sat up half the night looking over his
prospect. :

“T will marry the heiress of Vincent Place—
in a hurry, too, before some other fellow has a
chance. Dll be the richest man about here,
with an establishment the envy of all who know
me. And”— and his dark, bold eyes glittered,
and a flush reddened his face, as he clinched
one hand on the table beside him—‘“‘I will not
give Stella Carizelle up, either! Ill go ahead
with my securing the heiress, and then I'll off
to the little island girl!”

And no warning voice told Stella Carizelle,
that moment on her knees in her little chamber,
praying for guidance and direction, of the pit-
falls awaiting her young, innocent feet!

CHAPTER VIII.
A BETROTHAL NIGHT.

Lone after Roy Claremont and Clifford
Knight had said good-night to Mrs. Osmond
and Mr. Severn, and long after the house was in
darkness and silence, a bright light burned
steadily in Olga’s room, where, in her white
cashmere dressing robe, her long black hair un-
bound and streaming like a vail around her, she
sat alone before the fire in her dressing-room,
thinking, thinking, thinking, until it seemed to
her her brain would turn.

A deadly approberecn, a cold sick terror was
strongly upon her as she sat alone in the silent
midnight and reviewed the condition of affairs
that interested her so keenly. Just before her,
yet just out of reach of her eager grasp, were
all the desirable things she wanted—assured
wealth, assured social ition, assured pride
and happiness as Roy Claremont’s wife. Just
before her, and yet a menacing hand thrust it-
self between her and them, and awful peril, un-
speakable ignominy stared her in the face if she
did not, of her own accord, deliberately yield
up all her dreams of love, of a. of ambition;
deliberately surrender herself the wife of a man
she loathed and despised.

To-morrow—no, to-day, Jerome Welsh was to
have his answer, and, as she sat there, still asa
statue, turning it all over and over in her busy
brain, her face grew more palely desperate,
and a cold hard glitter was in her dark eyes.

“T need not attempt to deny to myself
the one fact that I am_in Jerome Welsh’s

ower,” she thought. ‘‘He knows my secret.

e has stumbled across those old letters of
Fielding’s, and—there is no way out of his
paren. I cannot see a step ahead in the hope-

ess darkness and danger all around me. Could
I buy him off? He has riches enough to laugh
at such an offer, even though I could afford to
pay my ransom with a fortune. What can I
do? what can I do?”

' She wrung her fair hands in a spasm of hor-
rible fear and dread.

 

“Tf I could gain time,” she said to herself,

‘‘if I could temporize with him. He may force
me to the length of my tether, but not till then
will I turn upon him—not till then will I swear

av

 

  
   
   
   
    
   
 
   
 
   
  
 
     
  
   
    
   
   
   
     
 
     
       
         
     
       
     
     
     
   
   
       
     
     
     
     
     
       
     
         
     
     
     
     
       
     
       
         
     
     
     
       
     
     
     
       
     
     
     
       
       
 

to him that I would kill him and myself, too,
before I would marry him!”

Her beautiful face was full of evil light, the
reflection of the fierce flames of the wicked
passions warring within her. . x

‘J will marry Roy Claremont—I must secure
him this winter, while I have the chance. I be-
lieve he does not care in the least for me, but, it
will be strange if I cannot induce him, in an un-
guarded moment, to say something which 1
will pretend to construe into a proposal. He is
honorable to the very soul, and his pride would .
forbid him to withdraw from what I should
claim as an engagement. If only it were not
for this girl with whom he has become en-
tangled! I wonder if it is true? I would like
to know who she is—and I will learn to my own
satisfaction. Then—it will be strange, if, not-
withstanding the fact that he is in love with
her, if my woman’s wiles and wits do not suc-
ceed in securing him! Of winning him, the .
man I love, I have not so great a fear—but—of
ridding myself of the man who loves me and
whom I hate and loathe as one does a reptile, ¥
am in doubt! What shall I do, for I swear ¥
will never marry bim!” ‘

They were indeed problems intricate enough.
to weary any brain, and Olga sat there until
the early hours of the morning, pondering and
meditating, scheming, planning, until the fire
died out to desolate ashes, and with- the creep-
ing chill and gloom that followed the death of
the cheery fire, her dark eyes slowly grew more
and more desperate, her thoughts more deter~
mined and terrible and eager.

The chiming of a bell in a church tower near
startled her as it rung four o’clock—four o’clock
of a gray, cheerless, cloudy fall morning, and
with a little terrified shiver Olga glanced
around her into the shadows of the corners, her
face livid with gare, and pallid with some
strong emotion.

“Té will not be my fault,” she told herself.
“Jerome Welsh has pushed me to the wall; he
forces it upon me, and self-defense isa law of
nature. I will do it, at all risks. Ah! Jerome
Welsh little knows the woman he has degraded.
by asking ber to marry him—him/ the toad—
the serpent!’4

She undressed herself, and went to bed, and
fell asleep as easily as a little innocent child on
its mother’s breast, and awoke at ten o’clock in
her usual cheerful, pleasant mood, and was
dressed and down-stairs at her customary hour,
and performed her duties at the breakfast-
table with ease and grace, under the very eyes |
of both Mr, Severn, whom she knew had not
absolute confidence in her, and Jerome Welsh,
who watched her with grim, courteous atten-
tion, knowing perfectly well that beneath the
mask of pleasant ease there was a deathless
turmoil raging. etna

“But she will have to yield,” he assured him-
self, his heart thrilling with prospective trium)
as his eyes gloated over her superb beauty
“She will have to: yield—there is no alter-
native. She isin my power, and she knows it, —
and her consciousness of guilt, her known merit
of the utmost punishment the law can inflict,
will make-her defenseless, willrestrainherfrom  —_
defying me. She will rave and rage and
struggle like a chained animal in a cage; then,
when she is tired out she will yield because she
has to, and I will be a lucky fellow! Knowing
what I do, Iam positive Severn will make her
his heiress, much ashe dotes on Claremont. I
will add to my already snug fortune; I will be
the most envied man in New York society.” om

He looked at her ashis thoughts ranon,his
heart swelling with anticipations of future de- ;
light, and his lips compressed in a kind of cruel
satisfaction as he noted how persistently she |
avoided his eyes, how, to his ears, her pe :
was mirthless and constrained. 2

“You hate me, my beautiful Olga, and you
fear me—all the same; you'll marry me, and
then we’ll be treated to all the docility imagi
able, when once I am master. Laugh on! I
can see beneath your wonderfully controlled
face, and I can see the rage and fury that is
bubbling there when you think you will have to
come to my terms.”

All through that day Olga avoided Mr. |
Welsh, and although he was accurately aware . _
of it, he made no sign of observing it; and, —
when they met a few guests that evening, both
were at their best to all appearances, although
the hour had passed by when Olga was to have
given him her answer. ¢

But, finally the guests have gone; Mr. Severn
had said good-night, and Olga was standing —
alone before the fire, thoughtful and expectant, —
when Mr. Welsh reappeared, a smile on his
face, his eyes eager and keen, his whole man- _
ner full of a half-subdued, proud masterfulness —
that Olga could not possibly have failed to no-

~s

 
         
         
       
     
       
     
         
         
       
    
     
         
       
     
       
      

 

 

ice. :
‘‘Allow me to give you a chair, Olga,” he —
said. ‘I have been all impatience for thi op-
portunity of hearing sie! answer to my pro-
fone as you may well suppose. I have -
orward to it as I never looked forward to any
event in my life.” 3

He wheeled a luxurious silken chair nearer
the fire, and Olga sunk indifferently upon it,
while he took up Lis position against the man-

j

          
     
         
       
     
       
8

 

‘IN MORTAL PERIL:

r

 

 

tle-piece, his elbow upon it, his head on his
hand, and looked at her, a slow, complacent
smile coming to his eyes as he saw how radi-
antly beautiful she looked, how like a duchess
_ she was in her mauve-lemon and scarlet silk
_ toilet, the diamonds and rubies she wore.
_ Olga did not speak. She’ sat with her fan
idly in her jeweled fingers. He waited several
» seconds, a full minute, and finding she did not
manifest the slightest intention of answering
: aoe remarks, he directly put the ques-
i:

“T do not suppose it is necessary to remind

you of what passed between us yesterday. I re-

y Peat my declarations and my offer of marriage,

liga; I am here to receive your affirmative an-
swer.”

A look of irritation flashed over her face at

his familiarity, but she had not come to this in-

en lew without having herself well under con-

rol,

*‘And I do not suppose it is necessary for me

“to remind you that such an offer was a startling
a rise to me. Not only a surprise, but a
ipodlive shock. I have been accustomed to look
“upon you as a faithful, well-paid servant, and
“Ww as soon have thought of marrying my
~ w‘anecle’s coachman or his valet.”

Welsh’s face flushed with anger.

*¢ Be carefull” he said, warningly. ‘I have
no intention of being insulted by you, Mrs. Os-
mond. Understand, I woo you as my social
equal, and that I have honored you beyond
your merits in asking you to marry me. Insult
me at your peril.” 4

Aes Olga bowed, with a slow, sneering smile.
eh “Really? But you will perhaps allow me to
_ explain that I desired to convey to you just the
astonishment I felt at your presumption. I per-
ceive you have seized my idea Senet ou
appreciate the insult. So far, so well. 6 will
be perfectly frank with each other.
Ihad planned a different—”
“T know,” he interrupted; ‘‘you want to
_ ‘marry your cousin, Roy Claremont.”
Which even you will doubtless admit
would be very suitable in all respects. Mr.
ty Claremont is rich, young, handsome—in every
way desirable. My uncle favors the project.
Peer. kG ; Pe him I will be immensely rich—rich
enough to pay you well for giving up this ab-
surd idea of yours.”

He laughed, seornfully.

“You cannot buy me off, Mrs. Osmond. I
will make no terms. I insist upon your uncon-
dition yielding tomeon my terms. I demand

_ your surrender.”

oat eyes began to glitter, and she bit her

red lip in furious agitation.
_.. “Don’t be foolish,” he went on, ‘I have al-
ways given you credit for being a shrewd, sen-
: sible ‘woman—be so, now. You are, completely
- inmy power. . Refuse me, and in an hour your
uncle, your cousin, all the world shall know. the
truth, and when New York shall read the sen-
_ sational story in to-morrow’s morning papers,
you, the beautiful fiend, will be languishing in a
cell, looking forward to a day of trial, when—”

_ A shiver passed over her, and she started up

in her chair, .

‘Hush, oh, hush! You will drive me crazy!
You need threaten me no longer!”

‘“‘Then you consent to marry me?”

Their eyes met in a glance in which soul read
soul. His, triumphant, exultant, hers, loath-

ing, frightened, conquered.

“T consent, since you force me to it.”

But not even his eyes saw all the full tide of

hate and vindictiveness in her eyes.

“Then, we are engaged,” he said, in a satisfied

- tone. ‘ You will marry me—when? Name an
 eauly day.”
- “Anearly date is absolutely impossible—ab-
solutely impossible. I surrender to you only
on consideration of naming my own time for
this marriage. Under no consideration before

ene
He looked calmly in her cold, hard face,
J will permit no such delay. I will give
_ you until the Holidays. Not a day longer.’
Ey Olga shaded her face with one hand, in intent
thought. Not three months! And yet it wasa
blessed reprieve. Three months--what might
not be accomplished in that time?
_ “Very well,” she said, with such apparent
honesty that it was irresistible even to him. ‘It
- ean make no very great difference,” she added,
‘i a:
“Thanks, Olga, In return for ear charmin
acquiescence, 1 give you my full and cordia
_ permission to paler your three months of grace
as you think best—you may even flirt with my
unfortunate rival our heart’s content for
three months, Then, I shallclaim you.”
_ “While I, on my side, demand this engage-
ment be kept strictly secret,” she said, haugh-

Stile,

ee. Ba bowed gallantly.

“That shall be-as you wish, my dear. I have
_ detained you later than I meant to, and you
a losing your_ beauty-sleep. Good-night,

  
   

To begin,

4

_ He stepped. up to her, and suddenly took her
- in his arms and kissed her, despite her haughty
si ‘le to free herself. ;

“You may as well resign yourself, Olga. I

geet

 

am a man who always demands—and gets his
full dues, and being betrothed to such a beauti-
ful woman as you are, my dear, I intend to be
treated to a lover’s full shave of respect, devo-
tion and affection.”

Again he bent his head and kissed her, in a
smiling, complacent way, and left her.

She sprung to her feet like an enraged ani-
mal, he tore her handkerchief from her
pocket, and rubbed her face almost fiercely,
her eyes flashing like sword-blades.

‘*How dare he, how dare he! I would die
before I would marry him! Oh! I am sickened
with a loathing and disgust that is intolerable!
Three months’ grace! ‘Twelve little weeks!”—
and as she walked up and down, her jewels
flashed, her silk train rustled, her breath came
quick and labored, her eyes fairly scintillated—
“in three months I shall be free of him and his
disgusting caresses, for before that time there
will be no Jerome Welsh in existence!”

CHAPTER IX.
e« SURVEYING THE WAY.

In accordance with his expressed intention,
Mr. Severn had invited his two nephews to ac-
company him in paying respects to Miss Vin-
cent, and it was at a fashionable house for _per-
forming such calls of ceremony that the three

entlemen sent in their cards by the pompous
iveried servant who had ushered them into the
reception-room. :

Mr. Rivers was the first to receive them, with
a friendly cordiality that gave them pleasant
assurances of welcome.

Several minutes elapsed before Sibyl made
her appearance, during which time Mr. Rivers
had engaged their guests in conversation, while
Clifford Knight looked all about him, in a quiet,
well-bred way that was unnoticeable, yet made
him thrill with exultation as he realized the
glory of his possible future, and as he heard the
sweeping of a silken train on the stairs, and the
firm patter of tiny boot-heels across the hall, it
was with an absorbing interest that he only
concealed by a strong effort.

Miss Vincent came in the room, bright, hand-
some, perfectly self-possessed, her eyes shining
with an excitement that only herself and Mar-
cus Rivers understood, and a vivid rose-warmth
on her cheeks.

As she advanced, the gentlemen arose, and
Mr. Severn went forward and took her hand
cordially.

“Tam glad to see you, Miss Vincent, glad to
know you have decided to make our city your
home for the winter. Allow me to introduce
my nephews, Mr. Clifford Knight, Mr. Roy
Claremont.”

The gentlemen acknowledged the introduc-
tion <Claremoath with a courteous bow, Knight
with a very much deeper one, both of which-ac-
knowledgments Sibyl returned with quiet self-
possession, begging them to resume their seats.
and taking her own near Mr. Severn, devote
herself to her callers with a gayety and girlish
vivacity that very soon placed them all upon
the most cordial terms, and made them all teel
well acquainted with her.

And while she laughed and chatted, in a way
that Mr. Severn thought ki grs tet refreshing
and unsophisticated, Sibyl was keenly studying
the two young men who were sustaining their
share of the entertainment so admirably. She
admired Knight’s dark, bold beauty infinitely
more than Claremont’s fair, aristocratic ele-

ance, and, narrowly observing the manner of
Eni ht toward his uncle, and Mr. Severn’s to-
war him, drew her conclusions to her own
satisfaction long before their visit was ended
mae they, in turn, had as faithfully studied

er.

At length they rose to leave, Mr. Severn
apologizing for having prolonged their call so
far beyond the prescribed limits,

‘Tam so glad you have staid so fon Sibyl
said, in an impetuous, charming little way.
“You are not to be cla among ordinary so-
ciety callers, dear Mr. Severn, You are an old
friend, whom I have known for years. You
and your nephews will always be more than
welcome.”

Mr. Severn did not see the affectation, the
pretended/ enthusiasm Sibyl manifested. He
was remarkably free from suspicion, as all
grand, generous natures are, and to him Sibyl
was what she fully meant he should think her—
a frank, honest girl. :

“Thank you, my dear,” he said, tenderly,
gravely. ‘‘ You must consider my house your
second home. My niece, Mrs. Osmond, with
whom you have some acquaintance, will al-
ways be pleased to see you. You ought to see
very much of each other this winter.

“Tam SSO a most eerie season,”
she said, eagerly. ‘Vincent Place is so dull
and quiet, and lam enraptured with the ro
we of endless gayety before me. Do you think

will enjoy myself?’ ;

She looked at Knight as she put the sudden
question.

“Tf you do not enjoy your season, society
will be more the Icser than yourself,” he an-
swered, with ready galaiey that pleased her.

Shortly afterward her visitors left, and Mr.
Rivers took up his position at the mantle-piece,

 

 

 

and looked questioningly at her as she sat
ee thoughtfully in the fire.

‘* Well, Sibyl, what is your impression?”

She laughe a

‘J think if I could have my choice, I’d marry
Mr. Severn rather than either of his nephews,
uncle Mark.” :

“Don’t talk foolishly; such a thing is too ab-
surd to even think of. What do you think of
Knight?”

She knitted her brows in a half uncertain

way.

Of hardly know what I think. I admire his
style of beauty far more than Mr. Claremont’s,
ie I prefer* Mr. Claremont’s elegant, languid

igh-toned air. If I were to take a secon

choice, I think, uncle Mark, it would be Mr.
Claremont. But, as it is, I have already begun
my conquest of Mr. Clifford Knight, in whom I
may plainly see the fact of his being Mr.
Severn’s heir—partly because of there being
such pleasant familiarity between them, partly
because Mr. Claremont has no need of it.”

Mr. Rivers smiled slowly.

“IT give you credit for considerable astute
ness, Sibyl. As you say, itisas beg a fore-
Care onclusion as anything can be, t!
ord Knight will inherit the bulk of the Severn
estate, and it seems also an equally foregone
conclusion that he admires you greatly. Isaw
that myself.”

“Yes, so did I,” Sibyl returned, compla-
cently. ‘And why not? I am young and
handsome, and Mr. Knight sees in me the mis-
tress of Vincent Place, the heiress of an im-
mense fortune. He is already my suitor, uncle
Mark, and I am. confident I Gold bring him to
my feet at my’ own pleasure.”

‘I think you are correct in your estimate,”
Mr. Rivers returned, deliberately. ‘I think
you have the cards as you wish, and have only
to play a winning game. Win him, Sibyl, and
do it as soon as ycu can. Follow up Mr.
Severn’s warm invitation to visit Mrs. Osmond,
and, there is no reason in the world why you
should not be as rich at the end of the cam-
paign as you appear to be at the beginning.”

Sibyl Jaughed.

‘Don’t be afraid, uncle. The first thing you
will hear will be the engagement of Mr. Clifford
Knight to the heiress of Vincent Place.”

ile, at almost the same moment, Mr.
Severn and Clifford Knight were discussing
their call,

‘How did you like our young hostess?” Mr,
Severn asked, interestedly. s

“She is one of the handsomest girls I ever
saw,” Knight returned, enthusiastically. “I
candidly admit I expected to find a very differ-
ent sort of girl, for such immense wealth rarely
is accompanied by such grace and beauty and
charm of manner. I admire her, exceedingly.”

Knight’s eager enthusiasm was most admir-
ably assumed—even Claremont did fot note
the forced ring in it. But—it was forced. Of
course, he admiréd Miss Vincent—most men
would have admired her in a more or less
degree, but, as he compared her with Stella

Carizelle, his heart sunk with dismay at the
contrast. _Yet—he wanted Sibyl Vincent's
money. He admired Vincent Place; above

every other earthly consideration he coveted a
place high in social position, backed up by
wealth, and, thinkin h

ceeded in banishing the thought of the girl he
did so hopelessly love for the time being.

‘* Well,” Mr. Severn went on, ‘‘have you any
intention of expressing an opinion, Roy?) What
do you think of her?”

aremont’s face was too well under control
to show the real feelings he experienced.

“T cannot indorse all of Clifford’s enthusi-
asm,” he said, gravely. ‘‘ Miss Vincent is hand-
some and showy, and will create a sensation in
society beyond a doubt. Beyond that, I feel I
am not called upon to express an opinion.”

Knight smiled, sarcastically,

“‘T could scarcely expect you to be as enthu-
siastic as I, Claremont, when I know that you
are so absorbed in another quarter.”

Claremont’s handsome face flushed.

“T certainly have met my ideal, and as cer-
tainly Miss Vincent is very far short of it.”

“In what respect, Roy?” Mr. Severn asked,
seriously.

“In many, sir. I fancy Miss Vincent is in-
sineere, and scheming—but, I would rather have
nothing to say. If you admire her, Clifford—
allright. If you love her and want to marry
her, do it. A man should marry the woman he
loves.” t :

‘Provided it is decided by judgment as well
as impulse, yes,” Mr. Severn added, thought-
fully, and all three of the gentlemen, each in his
own way, thought of Stella Carizelle.

At the Fifth Avenue Hotel, Claremont said
good-day, and left the carriage, and Mr. Severu
and Knight continued their drive alone.

‘‘ A few words about this ideaof mine regard- —

ing Miss Vincent, Clifford:—I ‘like her; [ like
her frank, ingenuous way. She will be a credit
to our family and to her husband. You have

been attracted by other considerations than her

wealth, since ag have seen her, and since you
are so favoral
to win her, if you can.”

 

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IN MORTAL PERIL.

9

 

 

Knight’s eyes shone with satisfaction he did
not attempt to conceal.

“T do notsay it will be an easy matter to win
her,” Mr. Severn went on. ‘‘ Her appéarance
in society will create a furore, and she will
count her admirers and suitors by the score. To
be beforehand will be to your own interest, if

ou really believe you will be happy as her hus-
Lani, and can make her happy as your wife.”’

“‘] shall try my very best: sir. lready I am
in love with her, for the first time in my life
with any woman.”

‘<I will increase your allowance,” Mr. Severn
wenton. ‘ You will need a great -deal of mo-
ney to pay court to Miss Vincent, and, in case
you marry her, I will give hera warm welcome.”

Knight looked the intense delight he felt.

“You are very good; I hope to merit your
kindness by presenting my bride to you before
long. I will win her—depend upon it.”

He reached out his hand in an impulsive way
not usual with him, and Mr. Severn took it
promptly,

‘Nothing could give me morepleasure. [live
only to see you and Roy and Olga: eligibly set-
tled in life. If you marry Miss Vincent, that
will be one object attained, and grandly at-
tained. If Roy marries Olga, there will be
nothing left to desire!”

Knight looked suddenly troubled—a look he
intended Mr. Severn should notice.

“Tf be marries her, sir. I would not, for any
consideration, be guilty of turning informant
on Roy, but—but—I think—I regard it very
doubtful if he marries his cousin.”

‘“‘Then there was some sort of an entangle-
ment with a beautiful young girl during your
vacation? I wish to know the truth, Clifford.”

Knight hesitated. Should he tell Mr. Severn
that the girl Claremont loved was young and
gloriously lovely and gracious, and fair as'a
star? Or should he say she was an ambitious
adventuress, who had infatuated Claremont
with her, clear out of his senses? Which course
was the best to pursue in order to interfere with
Claremont’s plans?

“There is not much to tell, sir,” he said,
gravely. “TI believe the girl is very beautiful,
and_very poor, and—and—ambitious. At any
rate, I am only too glad Roy came away fet-
tered by nothing more binding than a promise
to return ata later day. But, I beg of you to
consider this a most sacred confidence.”

Mr. Severn bowed his grand, gray head
Ser ah

““T think you may trust me. You have done
me real service intelling methis much. It shall
be my object to save Roy from the machina-
tions of this girl, whoever she may be,”

And when they alighted from the carriage,
Knight’s eyes were smiling like the eyes of a
demon, for, with every step he took, the way
opened. rosier and wider and fairer to his feet.

And the end was yet afar off.

CHAPTER X.
A VILLAIN’S LUOK.

THOSE early days of her bereavement were
days of w le dreariness and gloom to
Stella Carizelle. At first her natural grief had
burst forth uncontrollably, as she realized how
satively alone, how friendless, she was left,
but, after that first natural outburst, there fol-
lowed resignation and a patient acceptance of
her lot, that bore its noble testimony, to her
pure, simple religious faith, for 8 was a
thorough, earnest Christian girl, able not only,
through her faith, to be resi ed to the sudden
loss of her friends and benefactors, but, as the
days went on, to rejoice that Mr. Leigh and
his gentle wife were so soon reunited, never to
part again.

So, poring all thoughts of morbid indulgence
in her grief aside, as unworthy and selfish,
Stella schooled herself to be brave, uncomplain-
ing, and patient. ;

At the first, she scarcely knew in which di-
rection to turn... She felt sorely the need of a
counselor who should advise her what was best
for her to do, but, besides the one faithful ser-
vant, old Elsbeth, who had lived with the Leighs
as long as Stella could remember, there was no
one to whom she felt she could candidly speak
of her future.

“‘T don’t like to see you so quiet and uncom-
plaining, Miss Stella,” Elsbeth said, a few days
after . Leigh’s funeral, as Stella stood at
the window in the twilight, her sweet young
face pale and grave, her eyes sad and thought-
ful, a look of utter weariness on her drooping
mouth. ‘Mr, Leigh would not have you grieve
for him so, Cheer up—try to think the world
is all before you yet.’ Py

“TJ don’t think I am grieving for him, Els-
beth,” she said, ‘‘ but, somehow, a strangely
shrinking feeling has come to me to-day, when-
ever I try to look forward to my future. I
cannot remain here—the silence, the isolation
would be unendurable. I shall go away, Els-
beth.”

“Go away! And where would you go, Miss
Stella? You have many friends here, any one
of whom would be glad and honored to have

you make your home in their family, Where
would you go where you would be so much. at
home as around this vicinity?” :

 

Stella’s sweet blue eyes were full of unutter-
able sadness.

‘‘But there isnorone else on the island, Els-
beth, and I couldnot live here alone. .1 would
rather make a decided change. I will sell the
lease of the cottage if I can, and with the
money I have I will go away where I can earn
my living—which I never could do here. Uncle
educated me, and in New York I shall best find
room to use my education. I shall go to New
York, Elsbeth.”

The old woman shook her head and com-
pressed her lips in respectful disapproval.

“To New York, alone, and friendless—a
ma girl like you? Oh, don’t think of it! It is
like driving a lamb into a den of hungry lions.
Inall that big wicked city you know no one but
those two gentlemen who were so much here all
summer—Mr. Claremont and Mr. Knight, Miss
Stella! You would not seek them?”

A look of sudden hauteur spread over Stel-
la’s face—only for a moment, howéver.

“Do you think I would, Elsbeth?”’ she asked,
in gentle reproof. ‘‘ I have no need to seek Mr.
Claremont, for he is my lover and is coming
backrhere for me next May, when I shall be
here to meet him. And until then I shall not
see or hear from him.”

Elsbeth listened in grave attentiveness.

“And what shall you do when you get to
New York? If you are sick, if il-luck over-
takes pea

““ Whatever comes will find me in the path of
what I believe to be my duty,” Stella said,
reverently. ‘‘And God will take care of me.”

“T believe God will take care of you,” Elsbeth
averred, stoutly; ‘‘all the same, you’re not
going alone. If you’re determined to go, Miss
Stella, then PW go, too, to take care of you and
look after you. There’s nothing to keep me
here after you’re gone.”

The tears sprung to Stella’s eyes.

‘Oh, Elsbeth, you are so good! I did not
dare ask you to share my uncertain destiny,
but I am so glad you will go too.”

She kissed the loyal old servant affectionately.

“We will go at once—to-morrow,” she said,
Perel “Everything is in readiness to leave.

have money in-‘my possession and nothing re-
mains but to pack our clothing and what else we
want to take. I will put the house in thé hands
of;a real estate agent in Oswego as we pass
through there. There is nothing more to do but
to say good-by to a few friends. _We will go to-
morrow then, Elsbeth.”

And, upon the morrow, at the close of the
beautiful October day, Stella and Hlsbeth left
the island, and started for their new home,
reaching New York the next day—a day of wet,
and gloom, and unspeakable dreariness, a day
that seemed to hald no cheer or comfort any-
where.

According to Stella’s prearranged plans, they
were driven at once to a quiet hotel, whose
name she had taken from a list of several she
had found in Mr, Leigh’s library, and, entirely
unaccustomed ‘though she was. to the way of
the world, her intelligence, her quiet, intent ob-
servations of all that passed around her, her
natural wit, made her soon acquainted with the
suitable methods of procedure. At the hotel,
they were shown a quiet, pleasant little room,
and, Stella, bravely struggling against the
homesickness that threatened her, kept her. spir-
its up, and comforted poor old Elsbeth; by or-
dosing a tempting supper to be served to them

ere.

“And to-morrow we'll find furnished rooms
somewhere, Elsbeth,” Stella declared, brightly,
as she buttered her toast, while Elsheth poured
the steaming hot coffee. ‘‘I will get_a paper in
the morning, and we'll take the addresses of
those we. think will suit, and have a pleasant
time finding them out.”

But—for all Stella’s sturdy philosophy, and
resolute determination not to give way to sense-
less. regrets, her pillow was damp with her
tears that night as she lay awake, through all
the solemn hours, realizing that she was indeed
face to face with the world.

‘When morning came, the bright sunshine was
flooding all the world, and with the passing of
the rain-storm had also departed very much of
Stella’s temporary disheartenment. ‘ter a pa-
latable breakfast, a hack was called, and to-
gether she and Elsbeth drove from place to place,
to return at lunch unsuccessful. e afternoon
was spent in the same way, and night. found
them still unsuited; Stella somewhat discour-
aged. and Elsbeth poonougnly dismayed.

“Tt has been the har day’s work I have
done in many a year,” Elsbeth said to the pleas-
ant, gossipy chambermaid, that evening when
she brought the fresh water and towels. ‘‘ Miss
Carizelle has looked at dozens of places, but out
ob paces all yeordtday nothin, eer lied,

t seems rather strange,” the girl repli
Sneed” “Perhaps you were hard to
ease.
. “Miss Carizelle wants four rooms in a re-
spectable neighborhood and at. a moderate
price, :

You should have found them, it seems to

me.

u So it seemed tome. Several places suited
Miss Carizelle very well, but all the landladies

 

required references, which of course she could
not give, being a perfect stranger.”

The girl looked at Elsbeth narrowly.

“You do not know any one in New York?
How singular!”

“Not a soul. Miss Carizelle has just buried
her people, and we have come here to earn our
living. No, we have no references.”

Elsbeth shook her head sadly as she said it.

‘“ Any one ought to have perception enough
to trust such a ‘face as your mistress has. I
have been in hotels, seeing this, that and the i
other sort of om all my life, and I know a
lady where I see her—and your lady’s one. If
you’d let me serve you, I can direct you to a
quiet, respectable house, where you will find
the accommodations you are after. An old
friend of mine owns the place, and she’ll take
Miss Carizelle, I’ll promise.

Elsbeth’s face glowed with pleasure.

“You are very kind—I thank you with all
my heart. I will give Miss Carizelle the ad-
dress, and we will see about it the first thing in
the morning.”

And the first thing in the morning, Stella and
Elsbeth went to look at the rooms so providen-
tially vacant—and found them desirable in
every way, while Mrs. Parsons, the motherly
landlady, was at once captivated by Stella's
winnitig sweetness of manner.

Arrangements were instantly made, and
Stella paid for a month’s rent of the rooms in
advance.

“T will take immediate possession,” she said
to Mrs. Parsons. ‘‘Elsbeth shall stay here
while I drive back to the hotel and settle my
bill and order my luggage brought here. I feel
already that I am not homeless.”

A contented little look was in her eyes as she
drove away, while Elsbeth bustled about the
pleasant, pretty rooms, changing a chair here,

ushing a table yonder, adjusting a curtain,

reshening the fire in the bright little cooking-
stove, feeling, as Stella had expressed it, that
— were at home once more, e
e rest of the day, after the trunks came,
was devoted to settling themselves in their new
home, and beginning the cosey little house-keep-
ing. And when the gas was lighted, and the
little round supper-table drawn u under it} set
with its white cloth, its shining glass and blue
and white china, and bearing the the tasty, hot
supper of broiled steak, stewed potatoes, but-
tered toast and tea, it was indeed a home-like
place, with the warm crimson carpet, the pretty
oo aad the comfortable lounge and rocking-
chair.

“We have so mtich to be thankful for, Els-*
beth,” Stella said, reverently, as they sat down
together at their first meal, and then she
donee her bright, bonny head in silent thank-
offering.

The next day Stella was fully occupied in go-
ing from store to store in pursuit of employ-
ment. She took with her several samples of
beautiful fancy-work of her own design and
execution, that commanded immediate atten-
tion in almost every place where she exhibited
it, and on which she took a number of orde
enough to keep her fully occupied for seve:
weeks, and at very fair prices.

She rettirned to her quiet, cosey little room in
pleased elation.

‘““We are succeeding famously, Elsbeth. My
fancy-work is greatly admired, and I have four-
teen written orders to be filled by Christmas.
To-morrow I shall buy my materials, and get
to work at once. I can be at home all the time,
which suits me so much better than having em-

loyment elsewhere. Oh, Elsbeth, I feel ost

apPy t

nd her lovely face was full of gratitude and
contentment, as she laid aside her jacket and
hat, and sat down in the rocking-chair to rest
herself, ‘while Elsbeth bustled about preparing

supper.

The next afternoon, Stella started out to pur-
chase her materials for her fancy work—this
time not calling a carriage, for she realized
now that workaday life had actually begun,
and she must haveniion dispense with all super-
fluous luxuries.

She had made her purchases, and was on her
way home me Sa when, turning a corner, she
came face to face with a gentleman who hastil
seoieeee: lanced at her carelessly, then, with
a sudden glow on his face, lifted his hat, and
Petts it posible? Con it really be you, Mins

s i le lan it real ou.
Carizelle? ee

— had recognized him at the same mo-
ment. :

“Mr. Knight!” she said, a rich glow shining
in her pleased face.

““Yes, Clifford iat, and very glad indeed
_ see you, although I.can hardly believe it is

e

And he looked at her pure, lovely face with a
great thrill of passionate y: ing in his heart,
a flash of exultant delight in bis eyes: \

“What luck! Stella Carizelle here, in New
York, and it must surely be unknown to Clare-
mont! What a glorious streak of luck—my
running across her so miraculously! Truly,
Satan never deserts his-own! And now, to in-
vestigate!”
 

    

40

IN MORTAL’ PERIL,

 

 

.o-, CHAPTER XI.
ENTANGLED.

THosx few words Roy Claremont had spoken
when riding back from the call upon Miss Vin-
cent had caused Mr. Severn serious thought.
Knowing Claremont’s quiet resoluteness, his
high standard. of honor, his one disposi-
tion, he was persuaded that if Claremont had
really fallen in love with a young girl who
suited him, he would marry her at his pleasure
and judgment.

What Knight had told him distressed him.
He had honestly accepted every word as abso-
lutely truthful, and believed that his favorite
nephew had fallen a prey to the subtle wiles
of an adventurous girl.

For several days Mr. Severn revolved his
thoughts in his mind, taking counsel of no one,
and then decided upon fons speaking to
Claremont on the subject.

During these days, to all outward appear-
anes everything was progressing satisfactorily
in Mr. Severn’s household. He was endeavor-
ing to feel reconciled to Olga, and his manner
toward her was faultless, even while there was
a gravity about it that Olga felt although she
could not see. Severn himself felt it, as
well. He could not make himself blind and
deaf toward the painful suspicion that had
come to him during the summer; and. while he
tried to force himself to believe he had wronged
her, there was a distrustful, dissatisfied feeling
constantly with him,

“Vile as I am atraid she has been, I must not
forget she has the Severn blood in her veins,

so cannot be all bad. Surely, surely, when
I reason it out eee she cannot be so wicked
as I have thought. he has good qualities—she
certainly loves Roy with all her heart, and
there is little doubt but that as his wife she
would be a happy woman—happy, thankful,
therefore good. I will speak to Roy upon the
first occasion that presents.”

The occasion presented itself while the
thoughts were yet in his heart, for Claremont
entered the library at the moment, so hand-
some, so manly, so courteous and grave in his

ful greeting that Mr. Severn’s heart
went out in a thrill of pride and joy at sight of

““Your coming is particularly favorable,”
Mr. Severn said, as Roy wheeled an easy-chair
in front of the grate fire. ‘‘Olga and Welsh
have gone to hear Gerster, and 1 was anxious
for a quiet talk with you. Have you seen Glif-
ford to-day?”

“T left him at the door.
Miss Vincent’s.”

Mr. Severn smiled.

“Tt seemed a clear case of love at first sight on
his side, at least. Well, you heard me express
my sentiments. A marriage between him and
Sibyl Vincent would be desirable in every way.
I sincerely hope he will win her affections.

I want to talk with you on a purely per-

He is on his way to

sonal matter. You know how you stand in my

- love
asa father would fo his bo:

estimation, You know that if you were my
own son I could not be more proud of you, or
better. ‘You will let me speak to you

?
He looked tenderly; a Title wistfully at tho

: . calm, handsome face that met his.

“Whatever you wish to say to me, sir, I
shall be most glad to hear.”
“Very well, then.

Answer me ‘this, a ae
and, understand I do not ask from idle curiosity.

Tell me, if you will, if a and your cousin

happy woman,” he went on.
mm: when'she married Field Osmond, but I

se erica beautiful, more charm

Oiga are good friends?

au ery good friends, I
si think s0, I hope so,” he answered, prompt-

Fighe is a very handsome woman—as hand-:

some as ever I saw.”

“Yes. Olga is decidedly handsome,” he ad-
mitted, in a somewhat hesitating tone; ‘‘ that
is,” he added, “‘if one prefers k beauties.
For myself, I like fair women best.”

Mr. Severn appeared ‘not to be surprised at
the answer. j

“Olga hasi not been a: very wise or a very
) ‘She made 4

think she has regretted it sufficiently to atone
for the error. I-would like to see her settled
once more—settled well, married toa rich man
who would be justly proud of her. Roy—why

don’t you make her your wife?”

Claremont’s fair face grew graver than be-

fore.
_ *Unele, there is one — reason why I could
not marry my cousin Olga. Ido not love her,

I would not ask any woman to be my wife
whom I did not love.”

His words were slow, quiet in tone, but Mr.

‘Severn heard the underthrob of passion in

them.

‘And why could you not love her? Young,
beautiful, accomplished, elegant?”

And then Claremont’s facé flushed with pas-
sionate pride. : 4

‘* Because I have already given my love to
g, more

lovely than any woman who walks the earth—

wo Sa: a fair. sweet youn, 1 whom you would
x love fi ocn tanew her.” cum bn
. rs

 

Mr. Severn rose from his chair, and walked
up and down the library.

“My dear ~~ this is not news tome. Com-
ing from Mt. Severn I met a gentleman who
had been long enough at Alexandria Bay to
hear of your mad infatuation for a pretty
nameless — up there. I heard it, but, my
dear boy, I scouted the idea as unworthy of
you—a relative of mine. I would not believe
you could have become the prey of an ob-
scure—” :

Claremont’s face flushed, and he rose impetu-
ously from his chair and took a standing posi-
tion beside the mantle-piece.

“You would not speak so of her if you knew
her as I know her, sir. She is poor, she is an
orphan, she does not know her parentage, but
she is the peer of any woman. She is the
sweetest, noblest little darling that ever won a
man’s heart, sir.. She has won mine by her
loveliness, her beauty of character.. I am not
her ‘prey,’ I am honored above all men in hay-
ing found favor in her sight!”

r, Severn paused in his walk and looked a’
Claremont, somewhat amazedly. i

‘‘This is indeed infatuation. And you _are
not a boy, but a man, at his maturity. It is
astonishing, Roy. ‘And you actually mean that
you would bring this—this girl—here, into the
society you frequent, into my house, to your
home, as your bride?” f

“You do not know how you wrong her, sir.
Miss’ Carizelle is worthy a place on a queen’s
throne; she would do honor to me, to you. If
you will go and see for yourself—”

A cold, haughty smile interrupted him.

“No, thanks, Roy. I wowld not lower my-
self so much as to further cater to the girl’s

ride and satisfaction by going to see her. I
bara seen the results of just such unequal: mar-
riages; you would sicken of her in a month—
then, you mi i at your leisure. Roy—
a plain question. Do you intend to marry this
—creature?” o

Claremont’s blue eyes flashed.

‘Pardon me, sir—you mean Miss Carizelle,”
he said, in a quick a ty way. ‘Yes, I
shall marry Stella Carizelle if she will accept
my offer, which Iam in honor bound to defer
until next May, by a promise given her —
dian, Mr. Leigh, who adopted her when a babe,
and who was most
a his niece without due deliberation. Does
that look like preying upon me?”

“Tt is a shrewd game from beginning to ‘end.
The man has cunningly contrived to whet the
edge of your passion for the girl, and you—have
fallen a victim.”

Claremont slowly straightened to his full
hight, and folded his arms over his broad chest,
standing there a very god, doing valorous de-
fense for the girl he loved.

‘Now let me say a word,” he said, with deep
earnestness. }‘‘ You know, sir, I have never
loved a woman before, I have not frittered
away my capacity for love ona dozen pretty
gras I never even have had my boyish fancies.

ntil I saw Stella Carizelle I never cared for
any woman in the slightest po ee and the mo-
ment I saw her I loved her with a deathless af-
fection, and that affection has come to be a
mighty overwhelming passion that never can
be stayed, never diverted, never conquered.
Stella Carizelle will be my wife, or no woman
will ever be.”

Mr. Severn did not answer. He continued
his slow promenade up and down the room, his
hands crossed at his back, his heavy gray eye-
brows contracted in a thoughtful frown.

.“In your present frame of mind further
words are useless,” he said, finally. ‘‘‘You say
you are pledged not to communicate with—the
—giri‘until next May. Between now and then
much may happen. For your sake, my boy, I
hope this infatuation will have lost its power.”

aremont smiled aabetly

‘“When you shall have seen her you will
change your mind.”

Shortly afterward Claremont took his leave,
and Mr. Severn walked up and down for an
hour in deep thought. - ¢

At eleven o’clock Olga and Mr. Welsh came
home, and after a few minutes’ general conver-
sation Mr. Welsh retired.

“T have seen Roy this evening,” Mr. Severn
said, abruptly, the moment he and Olga were
alone. ‘‘Make up your mind never to have
him for your husband, O] He is infatuated
as I never saw a man infatuated’ before, with
this girl he has met. He declares he will marry
no one’ but her. It isa serious case with him,
Olga, and there is no reasoning him out of it.”

ae hand clinched the chair-back against
which she leaned with a sudden passionate
strength, and her face paled so perceptibly
that Mr. Severn involuntarily pitied her, and
for the first time in a long while his feelings
softened toward her. © ;

“Tt is terribly to be deplored,” he declared,
with gentle graveness.  ‘‘It will be a blow to
me to see’ Roy married to an adventuress—for
such she is—a nameless, obscure nobody whom
a benevolent couple, traveling in the West,
ad bey when an infant, sixteen years ago—
a Mr. Leigh, who—”

Olga suddenly uttered a strange little ox-

itively averse to my mar-

‘| all.

 

clamation, and shivered from head to foot, as
though an electric shock had thrilled her.

Mr. Severn paused in his sentence, looking
amazed at her sudden agitation.

“Never mind me,” she said, with a ghastly
smile; ‘‘ goon. It was another—of those pains
in my chest. I—have had—them all the even-
= It is past now.”

he was pale as death, and trembling so she
was.forced to sit down.

** You had better have a doctor if you suffer
such twinges as that, Olga,” Mr. Severn said,
sympathetically. ° “Tt looks like some heart
trouble. Are you better?”

“Oh, yes! Go on, please, with what you
were saying. This—girl—” ;

“Ts an adopted child of a Mr. Leigh and
wife, who took her while they were traveling
West—notwithstanding which obscurity of her
birth, notwithstanding her poverty, Roy will
marry her. I am convinced of it:”

Olga. sat quite still, her face averted, and
shaded with her fair jeweled hand, a look of
white terror and helplessness on her face that
Mr. Severn took for her disappointment and
dismay at learning of Claremont’s passion for
another woman.

But—it was a far difforent cause, a cause that
was making her blind and dizzy and cold with
consternation. 3

‘* Did he mention her name, uncle?” she asked
in a calm voice, that wonderfully concealed that
awful whirl of agitation beneath. ,

“They do not know her real name. Mrs.
Leigh called her ‘Stella Carizelle,’ partly on ac-
count ofa picture—”

Olga felt that same deathly horror seizing
her again, and she bit her pale lips until the
sharp: little teeth brought a salty taste to

em.

‘‘Rather a pretty name,” she said, in a tone
that sounded to her own ears as though it came
rolling down through centuries. “‘Sheis young
and—fair, did he say?”

Mr. Severn’s voice insensibly took a tender
tone at her question. She was not young and
she was dark, and he must tell her the man she
loved preferred another style than hers. E

‘‘She is seventeen years old, Roy says—old
ae to be cunning and shrewd. She is a
blonde, blue eyes and golden hair, slender and
willowy—I heard as much on the train that

da: 7
Bive oe and golden hair! And seventeen

years 0. 3

‘*And he will marry her,” she whispered,
huskily. 4

“T see'no prospect of breaking him of his

ion,” he returned. ‘Some romantic pledge

¢ has made keeps him from formally propos-
ing to her before May coming, but, then—he
will and marry her. Olga, I have failed
si . He does not love you—you wi
never be his wife.” ,

_ Olga sat silent for several minutes, then she
li her face, so 7 and set and terrible in
ae ony, that . Severn involuntarily re-
col

so heavy. Go to your room, Olga, and try to
forget it for a while in sleep,” —
e obeyed him, and, with a faint good-nigh
went slowly up-stairs to her room, and locked
the door the instant she was inside, and, with-
out removing hat or gloves, sat down heavily
in the nearest chair, her hands clasped in a
fierce gripe, her eyes full of a terror and a
horror struggling together, an agony of bewil-
dered d ration on every line of her face.

“T shall go mad between them ” she
thought, eran “* A horrible fatality fol-
lows everywhere [ go—what does this new.
worst horror mean? Seventeen years old, and
blue te bon and golden hair! He shall never
m er—never, never, never! Tam appalled
by this sudden crisis that has come—for: Roy

laremont to marry her would be worse than

He must not see her again. At all ep
at all hazards, he must never see her again.
will tell Welsh—he will help me, he must help
aa ala girl must be got rid of. But, how—
Ow

And her breath came in hard, labored
as she sat there, beautiful as a siren, cruel, des-
perate, merciless as a fiend.

CHAPTER XII. ©
A GAME OF TETE-A-TETE.

Tue intervening days since Clifford Knight
and Sibyl Vincent had met, had not been lost
re to them, and what with a bouquet
of flowers accompanied by a Coser message
upon one occasion, a drive in Central Park on
another, an invitation to the opera, a delight-
ful chance meeting at a matinée, it was not a
week before they were on admirably friend!
terms. Knight was fascinating, genial and gal-
lant to Miss Vincent and she was genuinely

leased with his ardent devotion, his charming

 

tteries, while he, heart and soul. intent sures
th,’

the one grand object of securing her and w.
would not allow himself to be annoyed or turn
back by many gine about her that were ex-
actly opposed to his ideal of a woman—for, like
other

admired in woman the sweetness, the womanli-

“My poor child! I had no idea the blow was |

unprincipled men, Clifford Knight -

 

 

 

 
ceabedecaiee ae aeeteeiecicaaee

sienenks- hime

 

 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

14

 

 

ness, the delicacy, the reserve that was fur-

thest removed m his own standard, and
wee Stella Carizelle possessed in such a high
ee.

“She never will compare with her,” Knight
found himself telling himself, one late after-
noon, a week or ten days after he had first seen
Sibyl, and as he sat lazily back in an easy-chair
listening to her perform a brilliant polonaise on

her Chickering grand.
“*She is as inferior to Stella as a paste dia-
mond to a real jewel. She is handsome, but

her eee coarse and soulless. Sheis stylish,
but it is of the loud, conspicuous chgracter. She
seems highly accomplished, but her real educa-
tion is deficient, and it is her consummate tact
and_keen perception that passes her off at far
more than her actual value. But I will marry
her. I would marry her if she were fifty years
old and as homely as a Medusa for the sake of
the fortune she possesses, At forty she’ll be a
horribly fat creature—puffy eyelids, a treble
chin, and a waddle to her gait—yet rn marry
her, and be her master too! And—with the
riches I shall have gained, it will be strange if
TI can’t afford to lead the life I please, to follow
my own inclinations. Yes. I’m resolved to
marry her—and that too before some other fel-
low with an eye to the main chance appears on
the scene. She’s too much of an heiress, too
much what they call a deuced fine woman to be
kept long in the shade. I saw Van Alwyn star-
ing at her through his opera glasses last night
with a deal too mnch interest on his bloated old
face. J’ll go in for a hurried, secret marriage—
it’ll just suit her romantic sensational ideas,
and then we’ll present ourselves to the old gen-
tleman and—”

He smiled as he stroked his black whiskers,
while Sibyl banged away at the piano, never
doubting but she was performing in a most
scholarly manner, and her own thoughts run-
ning in very nearly a parallel direction with
Knight's.

‘« He’s not nearly as handsome as that distin-
ined cousin of his,” she said to herself, ‘‘ and

imagine he could be very dictatorial and dis-
agreeable if he chose. ata farce it is! He
thinks he will marry me for my money—and I
know I will marry him for his assured pros-

ts. He is anxious to secure my promise and
are impatient to know I have landed my
fish. He is ready to fall at my feet, and I—
think it will be as well to give him the op-
portunity. He shall propose to me—at once!’

She struck the final chords in the brilliant
performance, and turned arotind with a smile.

‘Yes, Pll bring him to the point to-night—
Il be sure of succeeding at Mt. Severn before
he leaves me,” she thought, while, aloud, she

said:
pre a showy piece, Mr. Knight, isn’t
it ‘

‘Superb, and you rendered it to a fault,” he
answered, while his heart beat fast and hard as
he thought—* Tl settle this matter here and
now! incent Place shall be mine before I
leave this house to-night!” ;

He arose from his chair and followed Sibyl,
as she sunk guest ina aie low velvet
chair near the fire, and took up his ition a
little fo} ber. He i ae bras ae ant ae
dazzling er magnificent toilet of peacoc!
blue satin and damasse silk, the long train
lying in shining billows around her, a diamond
cross glittering at her throat where her bodice
was cut low, and pointed. Wide gold bands
clasped her arms that were bare to the elbow,
and the toes of both slippered feet peeped co-
quettishly from the bottom of her dress. A

fine woman,” beyond the shadow of a doubt,
whose vast possessions gave her almost price-
Jess worth.

As he looked at her, he was somewhat at a
loss to know how to proceed, He had known
her such a snort time, scarcely a fortnight, and
—suppose his presumption should be rebuked
by a refusal? Sup) Miss Vincent had set
her standard much higher than him? Suppose,
after all, he failed? :

His heart throbbed heavily, and a cold chill
trembled from his head to his feet. It seemed
to him that a crisis had come, that all of luck
or misfortune was trembling in the balances.

But—unless he asked her, Sibyl Vincent
would never be his wife, or Vincent Place his.
‘That was an assured fact. Yet how?

A stupid little silence that was becoming mo-
notonous was Sieipsiod by Sibyl, who had des-
perately resolved that the opportunity should
not be lost.

“You seem to be in a a. study, Mr.
Knight. I can imagine the subje-t of four
thoughts. It was—your beautiful cvusin, Mrs,
Osmond. Js it true, Mr. Knight, that you and
she are engaged? Because, I want to be assured
of having such pleasant neighbors at Vincent
Place.”

to speak CORAM but her
‘voice trembled despite herself.

ere smiled and arose from his seat, and
stood Ie carelessly against the silver man-
tle-piece, loo: straight at her flushed, up-

lifted face. .
“*T was thinking of the lady I love, Miss Vin-
cent, but not of my cousin 0 Iam not en-

er, ra

 

gaged to her, or any one else, and never shall
be, unless the one I love will accept me. I
have known her but a short time—she is so
vastly my superior, that I am doubtful of al-
lowing her to know the effect her beauty,
her charms, her loveliness have had upon me. i
was just then thinking, Miss Vincent, of askin

your advice. Would you ignore the dictates o

prudence, et aside. the demands of propriety,
and tell her how hopelessly I love her?”

Sibyl twisted a blazing sapphire ring thought-
fully, and drooped her eyes, lest the exultant
glow that leaped to them should betray her.

‘Tt would depend much on circumstances, I
should say, Mr. Knight. I thiak—if I were the
lover, and ed the same nature and tem-
perament I do now—one not ruled by set, staid
laws of heartless etiquette; a heart that was
not ashamed to be warm and true and tender—
as I think I have—I should as out, a to
hope that the spark in my own soul had kindled
an answerin aiid in hers. I would not wait,
I would tell her the truth—don’t You know the
woman does not live who does not like to be
told she is beloved?”

She had controlled her voice admirably. She
had made her advice appear purely disinter-
ested. She had looked and spoken gravely,
thoughtfully, until the last sentence, and then
she flashed him a little look that made his pulses
throb with hope.

‘You tempt me to dare all, Miss Vincent,”—
and a real, honest passion would not have
made his voice tremble more—‘‘ Sibyl! can you
not guess? Have you not seen? Do you not
know it is you—yes you whom I love, whom I
loved from the very moment I saw you?”

She suddenly lifted her averted eyes, in a
pretty, astonished look. Then, a flush surged
over bar cheeks, and she dropped her eyes again.

‘*Ts it—possible! Oh, Mr. Knight—what have
F said to you! Oh, if I had known, if I had
imagined—”

She hesitated in well-simulated maidenly
shame and confusion.

“You spoke like the angel you are, Sibyl!

Tell me, am [ too presumptuous} Can you:

overlook my haste, my impatience? I love you
with all my heart, my darling. I want son to
be my wife. Sibyl— ee ro marry me?”

The Rubicon was crossed, and Sibyl Vincent’s
breath came in a little quivering flutter of
scarcely concealed exultation. Then she slowly
lifted her face, and met his eager, impatient
eyes.
wes, she murmured. ‘I will be your wife
—TI have loved you all the time.”

He took her in his arms, and kissed her, and
she drooped her head on his shoulder, each
heart swelling with its own sense of secured
victory.

It was an awful mockery—and as Knight | edl

stood there, holding Sibyl in his arms, he
thought with a fierce pang of how he would
have felt, what he would have said, how he
would have kissed and caressed her, had it been
fair Stella Carizelle; and at that moment he
loved her with a pe yearning he never
had experienced before.

Yet—he had no regrets. He was on his road
to fortune, and he was not a man to give u;
the ambition of his life for a sentiment. But,
as he stood there, a sharp, bitter rebellion en-
tered his soul against the destiny that gave him
for a wife a woman he barely endured, and de-
prived him of the clinging and sweet up-
turned glances of her for whom his whole soul
and strength cried out! ’

Then he lifted Sibyl’s handsome face from his
shoulder with a lying smile on his lips.

“Let me look at oa dearest! I am so
happy that I dare not believe it is true that you
ove me. :

“But I do—Clifford,” and she looked at him
archly as she coquetted with his necktie, ‘I
do love you, and it is, for me, the happiest mo-
ment of my life.” :

Which was only too true.

‘‘ And now about our engagement,” he said.
“My uncle and Mr. Rivers will both be de-
lighted, I am’ sure.”

“They assuredly will be. I will tell uncle
Mark at once. But, Clifford, I don’t want any
one else to be told—just yet.”

In her heart, Sibyl was resolved that she
would crown her so far achieved success with
the crowning rn immediate marriage,
which alone would place her beyond fear of
possible ete pes f :

He looked at her, a trifle disconcerted.

“Why do you not wish our engagement an-
aoieided Sibyl, my love? If you were as proud
and happy as I am—”

She interrupted him with a little laugh.

“ You foolish boy! “Don’t you know I mean
to be a belle this winter, and have a crowd of
admirers at my feet? ‘I intend to achieve a
great social success, Clifford—but not as al-
ready gnanced. Don’t you see?”

A thrill of alarm came suddenly to him.
What if—he lost her? :

“You shall haye ‘your season and achieve
your success, my darling. But—why not as a
charming young bride? You will be feted and
adored wherever you go; there is no adulation
like that paid a beautiful bride. Why not

}

 

marry me at once, Sibyl? Iam impatient. TE
detest long engagements. Consent, dearest, if
you love me.” .

Sibyl listened attentively.

“A bride! I never thought of that. But
what would Mr. Severn say, Clifford?”

““We would not tell him until I introduced
you to him as my wife. He would be amused
and delighted and open his house to us, and give
us his ek Darling, I pray you. grant me
this request. Iam jealous lest some other suitor
er n you from me.”

was desperately in earnest. He urged her
with all the eloquence he could command; and
because she was as eager to secure her position
at Mt. Severn, as he was to become master of
Vincent Place, she finally yielded with well
simulated graciousness, and he bade her good-
night, a little later, with a heart swelling with
wildest delight.

‘*T have won my game! I will be the hus-
band of the richest girl in America! My for-
tune is made, my social success assured. Hence-
forth I have only to live the life I please, to
pee wherever my re lead!” :

nd, turning a corner of the busy, —
lighted streets, just as the clock struck digi, ee
came face to face with Stella Carizelle.

While at the same moment Sibyl was stand-
ing in the library, beside the table where Mr.
Rivers was looking over some papers, her eyes
gleaming, her cheeks burning, her voice vibrant -
with suppressed excitement.

“Uncle Mark—I have done it! I told youLE
would! He proposed to me to-night, and he
thinks he has persuaded me into an immediate
private marriage, when it was I lured him into
it! Weare to be married—soon. Congratulate
me, uncle Mark—the future Mrs, Clifford
Knight, of Mt. Severn!”

 

‘CHAPTER XIII.
THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT.

ALTHOUGH Stella Carizelle had never thor-
oughly admired or genuinely liked Clifford
Knight, and although there had been times
when she had experienced an instinctive distrust
of him during those weeks of summer acquaint-
ance, yet, meeting him now, she a stranger in a
strange land, made her reg 88 her former aver-
sion to him, and sent the thought through her
heart, that had often been there before, when
she had censured herself for’her unjust preju-
dice against him—the thought that he was Roy
Claremont’s loved, trus friend, whom he
would not have chosen as his companion had he
been unworthy—never thinking that Clare-
mont was as capable of being deceived as any

one,

Meeting Clifford Knight, then, so
, Stella realized, with a little thrill of de-
light, that he was one of the very few connect~
ing links between her and the utiful past,
and the sweet future. He was her lover’s
friend—and, in that moment of sudden ao
Knight’s face was to her as the face of a dear
friend, while her own lighted up with undis-
guised pleasure.

‘How glad Iam tosee you, Mr. Knight! It
is a very great surprise—”

He ae reached out his hand and pressed hers
warmly.

SA rise as great and as delightful to meas
it can possibly be to you.. The moment I was
turning the corner I was thinking of you, Miss
Carizelle—thinking of you as in your island
cottage, little oe you were in New York.
Are you visiting friends or relatives?”

His polite interest was very pleasant to her,
but she could only by the most desperate effort
of will-power command her voice, her face,

“T have no relatives or friends here, or any-
where, Mr.’ Knight,” she answered, sadly,
touchingly. ‘‘Uncle and auntie are dead, the
cottage ‘has passed into other hands, atid Els-
beth—you remember good old Elsbeth—and I
have taken up our ein New York city.”

Knight had listened iri almost startled amaze-
ment. Mr. Leigh dead, and this fair young gi
thrown on her own resources, friendless and ig-
norant of the world and its snares, its miseries.
Alone, with her servant, a simple-hearted wo-
man, in the same city with himself—and Clare-
mont. His busy brain took in all the ca’ i-
ties and possibilities of the situation at a glance.
If he could—and he swore to himself, he would
—keep Claremont in ignorance! In the second
while Stella was speaking, he made up his mind,
and, when’ she had concluded, his face was
wearing an expression of gravest astonishment

and kindly rs *

‘““My poor little friend!” hé mded, fer-
vently. ‘It does not seem ible! I- must
hear all about your troubles, I must do what-
ever I can in your emergency. But, this is
hardly the place, Miss ‘Carizelle. Will you al-

low me to walk with you to your—home, and
talk with you there at our leisure?” . pine
Stella consented, and giving him her address,
he signaled a street car, and they entered it
and were soon conveyed to an adjacent corner
from Stella’s rooms. :
Thesant ile sking aptly Shae tameaee
ni -room, W:
Pesogulkad hice with wenuing

m with genuine delight,and en-

 

 
    

42

IN :-MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

tertained him while Stella went to her own
room and laid aside her street wraps.

As she reéntered the little sitting-room,
Knight’s dark face lighted up with warm ad-
miration, and he found himself mentally com-

aring her with the girl who kad, an hour be-
‘ore, promised to be his wife.

She looked so lovely, almost spirituelle, since
the discipline of suffering through which she
had passed. Her face was so patient, so proud
and brave, and her lovely mouth was the very
incarnation of womanly sweetness and tender-
ness. Her ivory pale complexion was radiant
in contrast to the black cashmere dress she
wore, and her golden hair was coiled in a mass
of thick lustrous braids low at the back of her
head, while at the forehead, each side of the
parse , little soft tendrils curled loosely on her

road brow. .

Knight’s pulses quickened at sight of her,
and his love for her seemed at one bound to
leap into a passion that absorbed his whole
soul, Yet he did not permit the slightest token
of his true feelings to betray him.

“You do not seem changed in the few weeks
since we parted,” he observed, as he placed a
chair for her, which she took, while Elsbeth,
her knitting in her hand, sat an interested lis-
tener in the corner by the fire.

“Perhaps not, to outward observation,” she
said, ‘‘but I feel so much older and graver. I
dare say it is the sudden responsibility that has
come upon me.”

Knight looked at her, intently.

“But you should not have to shoulder re-
sponsibility, Miss Carizelle. Surely, in all the
world, somewhere or other, you_have those to
whom you are near and dear. I know a por-
tion of peat story, Miss Carizelle—that. you
were 0 an adopted relative of the Leighs;
but—pardon me, my dear friend—have you
not any idea of who or where your parents
are?

Stella’s face flushed slightly. .

“J do not know, Mr. Knight. And I do not
desire to know. T would never love or respect

arents who abandoned me when I was « help-

Ce child. Dear uncle and auntie were my
foster-parents, and to them I gave my love. I
do not want to know who it was was who de-
serted me when I could not resent the inbu-
manity.”

Her voice was intense with spirited pride,
and her blue eyes flashed.

“T believe you are right,” he said, gravely.
‘“‘T honor you for your womanly spirit, and the
high courage you snow in coming here to fight
your battle with the world. ould you. tell
me, Miss Carizelle, what you propose to do?”

“ Certainly I will tell you;” and then she gave
him a charming little account of her wonderful
success in attaining so many orders. Knight
congratulated her, admired her pleasant little

-home, and the conversation went quietly and

leasantly on, while every moment there was
ix one uppermost thought in Stella’s mind—
Roy Claremont.

She dared not mention his. name. She felt
that her cheeks would flame at sound of it, and
so, in her sweet maidenly shame, she bore her
pneoe well.

ntil, very abruptly, Elsbeth spoke out from
her dim corner.

“You haven’t said anything about Mr..Clare-
mont, Mr. Knight. How is he?”

Knight smiled—a quiet, slow smile, so signifi-
cant that it was plainly noticeable. He had
been waiting for the question, and had pre-

ed his answer. He knew, perfectly well,

that Claremont loved Stella with the ardent
passion of a strong man’s heart. He believed,
with equal assurance, that Stella returned that
affection just as truly. He knew that, as yet,
there was no formal betrothal, and thai, con-
trolled by his grand sentiments of honor, Clare-
mont would not see or hear from Stella in a
long while, unless by accident. He knew that
his own marriage with Sibyl Vincent would be
a wretched farce so far as love or companion-
ship went, and he meant—deliberately and
resolutely—to estrange Stella and Claremont
and win her love himself. He intended to so
arrange his plans, that in her wounded pride, in
her righteous anger, in her loneliness, Stella’s
extremity would be his SPRINT in which
he should have everything his own way.

He did not gjause at Stella, as Elsbeth put
the point-blank question, but answered it

easily :

a Oh, Claremont is well and happy, and en-
oying himself thoroughly. I lunched with
im, and he and Mrs. Osmond were to go to the
matinée. _You may remember hearing us
apeak of Mrs. Osmond—a very beautiful and
charming lady; a cousin of Claremont’s and
mine?” : 4

He turned to Stella as he said that, and he
saw the slight pallor on her face—sent there by
the swift pang of jealousy his eppereptly. care-
less words had caused. She did not answer,
however, and Elsbeth continued the conversa-
tion: :

“JT remember hearing of her, if Miss Stella
doesn’t. Mr, Claremont did not admire her

r big, tender heart was throbbing with

vor much, did he?”
ae

 

kindly, jealous sympathy for her young mis-
tress, and she put the question entirely for
Stella’s sake.

‘Every man who ever saw her admired her
—very few have escaped falling in love with
her. She is an heiress, a great belle and a
magnificent ey s and Claremont has not es-
caped the gene: doom. He is the only fa-
vored suitor, however. They are engaged.”

He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, with an air
so plausible that it would have been hard for
even one who knew him well to believe he was
deliberately lying.

Elsbeth looked up at him, her knitting falling
to her lap in silent surprise, while Stella grew
deathly white, and her sweet blue eyes turned
almost dark with anguish. Yet she did not say
a word—there are some wounds so deep that
speech is trivial.

“Engaged to her,” Elsbeth said, grimly,
picking up her knitting. ‘‘I would never have
thought that of him. Fie did not act much like
an engaged man last summer.”

“No?” he said, quietly. ‘‘That is because
you did not understand him. Of all men,
Claremont would be the last to wear his chains
outside, however he delighted in them.”

Stella sat with her face slightly averted, en-
during a struggle too terrible for words. Els-
beth looked anxiously at the death-white face
and anguished eyes that Knight could only in-
directly see; and, to cover Stella’s silence, went
on, in pitying kindness, liké the firm hand. of
the porapyn who probes the wound in order to

eal.
“Mr. Claremont will be married, soon?” she
asked, a little sharply.

‘Between now and spring,” Knight said, readi-
ly. ‘The fair Olga is desperately in love with
him, and will hold him closely to his promise, for
she, like the rest of the family, knows his peculiar
failing of falling in love with every new pretty.
face. Heis the best fellow in the world, gen-
erous and manly, with only the unfortunate
trait of fickle inconstancy, which, of course, his
betrothed naturally dislikes. When he is mar-
ried, however, he will drop all that, and will
be a model husband with a wife ho will wor-
ship. The marriage is greatly desirable for
many reasons, and will be a brilliant social
event. But how long I am keeping you, Miss
Carizelle. You look tired. I will go now, and
call. again, if you will allow me.”

He took his hat and gloves, and arose to go,
while Stella bravely answered him:

“JT shall be glad to see you, Mr. Knight.
And—if you please, will you remember me to
your friend, and convey to him my congratula-
tions?

Knight bowed, and left the room, Elsbeth
escorting him to the front door below.

“Tam glad youcame down,” he said, confi-
dentially. ‘‘I wanted to speak to you about
your mistress, Elsbeth—as I cannot speak to her
myself. You know that Claremont was her
lover last summer—but how can I explain to
Miss Carizelle that he had quarreled with his
betrothed, and, in a spirit of pique, was ready
to commit any imprudence? Since his return,
he and Mrs. Osmond are reconciled, and more
in love than ever, and are to be married, as I
said—this winter. To do him justice, Elsbeth—
for he is really a good fellow at heart—he is not
a little troubled to think that he may have
caused Miss Carizelleto think more of him than
was quite right, and—”

‘Well, he need have. no fear, then,” Elsbeth
interrupted, indignantly. ‘Miss Stella will
survive his love, I dare say. Iam only angry
to think we all thought him so perfect,”

““No one is ere he said, thoughtfully.
“But, of Miss Carizelle, another word, She is
absolutely friendless here in this great city, but
for you and—me, Elsbeth. I sincerely wish to
befriend her. I would doanything to serve her
—asI think you know, I think you must un-
derstand—I love her, I love her with all my
soul, and it shall be the business of my life to
win her love, to comfort her in her sorrow, to
prove to her that I love her as my cousin never
did. Iam able to give heran elegant home.
Every luxury shall be at her command, and her
life si be as happy asI can make it. You
shall always be her confidential ‘servant, never
soparated from her, Elsbeth—do you think I
have any shadow of a hope? Is there the least
chance of my winning Miss Carizelle’s love?”

She looked in his dark, handsome face, glow-
ing with earnestness and genuine tru O88,
and her kindly, simple heart warmed toward
hie because he loved her young mistress so
truly.

‘“T dare not say, sir,” she said, after a pause.
“Tt would be the joy of my life to see her
placed as you have said. But, I dare not say
you havea chance. Not yet. Wait a little, be

tient, and I will use my influence with Miss

tella—and I have not a little. After a while
she may listen to you.”

He took her hand and pressed it eagerly.

“T will wait. I will be patient. I will hope.”

He went away, exultant, his black eyes gleam-
ing as he hailed a pane onne and seated him-
self indolently in it.

“Tam rof the situation,” he told him-
self, with an evil smile on his lips.

 

While Stella stood in the middle of the room,
when Elsbeth reéntered it, every vestige of
bloom and brightness stricken from her young
face, and the shadow of an anguish far too
deep for tears in her eyes.

“My poor child,” Elsbeth said, pitifully, as
the tears sprung to her honest eyes. ‘‘It breaks
my heart to see you like this—all for that bad,
cruel man who—”

Stella lifted her heavy eyes, wearily.

““No—you must never say that of him to me.
He is good and noble, Elsbeth. It is only that
he did not love me as I thought. I can’t blame
him for that.”

Elsbeth bust out in an indignant invective,
but Stella interrupted her in a little authorita-
tive way.

“You must not attempt to speak of Mr.
Claremont to me again, Elsbeth. All you can
say—all the world could say would not make
me hate or despise him. He is grand and
and noble—too good for me, ‘Elsbeth. f he
loves his beautiful cousin—ought he not to
marry her? If he thought he loved me—I—am

lad—to know in time. I hope he will be

ppy,” and her sweet voice broke down in a
heart-broken little sob. ‘Don’t speak to me.
of him again, Elsbeth. I don’t want to be
cross, but—I—I haven’t been cross, have I? I
will go to my cwn room a little while—I will be
all right directly.”

And she smiled a little ghastly smile with her
quivering lips, and went into her room and
locked the door—alone with her sorrow,

 

CHAPTER XIV.
A NEW ENEMY.

Mrs. Osmond had been thoroughly fright-
ened at the information she had received, and,
at the very first opportunity that offered itself,
arranged for an interview with Jerome Welsh
—an opportunity that presented itself the same
morning after that terrible vigil she had kept
into its early hours.

It was shortly after the nine o’clock breakfast
that she sent a message to Mr. Welsh to meet
her in the library, and in the brief interval of
sending and awaiting him, she paced to and
fro, too completely unnerved to be her usual
mistress of herself.

Welsh appeared promptly, pleased, surprised
at the summons, with a smile on his face that
was dissipated the instant ho saw her pale,
keenly anxious face, her manner of restless,
suporessed fear.

‘What is the matter?” he asked, instantly.
‘What has happened? Are—”

She turned suddenly toward him, and looked
at him with her feverish, frightened eyes.

“Everything is the matter. I have con-
sented to. marry you, have I not, Jerome
Welsh?” she asked, in a tone so fiercel abrupt
that the red blood rushed to his face as Sie heard

it.

‘Oh, I understand,” he retorted, savagely.
‘You have sent for me to tell me you purpose
to back out of our agreement! But you can’t.
accom—”

“Be still,” she interrupted him again, scarcel
less fiercely than before. ‘Don’t be an idiot.
Something has Lappened. If] am to be your
wife, your inte: ard mine are identical.
Mine are threatened. You promised me dis-

race and the punishment of the law if I re-
Hosen to you. Suppose I tell you that
even ifI keep my word to you, there is even
greater danger of the same punishment? What
would you doin suchacase? Befriend me, or
denounce me?”

He looked at her in a bewildered way, as her
rapid passionate words were beihg en.

“You are aking in riddles. No possible
disgrace can threaten you, except. that which

could fall upon you through me, What do you
mean, Olga?” he asked, suspiciously. ‘Do you
mean to test my power by owing me

over?”

She was walking excitedly up and do and
paid no attention 5 what 4 said. pia.

“Danger threatens you and me—if I have
been unscrupulous and seheming, you are not a
whit behind me. We are in the same boat, Je-
rome Welsh. If I sink, so do you. Which shall
it be—sink or swim together?

He frowned in absolute bewilderment.

“Evidently something has transpired. If
you are capable of talking coherently, explain
yourself, eit

She paused in front of him, and looked in hig
eyes, her own desperate and dark, —

“Can I speak more plainly? I tell you I am
in awful peril. I am desperate. Ruin, dis-
grace, appalling ruin and d e threaten me
—the very punishment you have been holding
over my head.”

“You are mad, Olga! I tell you it is abso-
lutely im ible—”

‘‘And I tell youitis true! I shall in truth
be mad unless you give me your help. Do you
know this gl whom Roy Claremont has fallen
in love with and is determined to marry?”

Welsh’s face flushed again, angrily, at the

ound of mont’s name,

“So there is some jealousy at.work, is there?
Very—”

 

 
 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

    

13

 

 

‘“‘T ask—do you know who she is?’ she de-
manded, not heeding his words.

“How should I know? I do not care. It is
nothing to me—or you.”
“Tt issomething to you and me. She isan

adopted child—that a family named Leigh took
as their own while traveling in California—six-
teen years ago.”

Her voice sunk to a sibilant whisper, and as
though a serpent had stung him, Welsh recoiled
several steps.

“Sixteen years ago, in California!” he re-
‘peated, incredulously.

“And a blonde—a perfect blonde! What
shall be done? What fearful fatality is coming
upon us?”

His florid face was pale and disturbed.

“There must be a mistake. She would be a
coarse, unlearned, common servant—that was
bargained for. Roy Claremont would never
fall in love with such a girl. Olga, it is a mis-
take. There are dozens of blonde girls, seven-
teen years old, who—”

“Yes, yes,” she said, impatiently. ‘‘ But it
is not a mistake. Look facts in the face. You
know, and I know, who she is, and if there has
been a fearful mistake in ha g her educated
and brought up a lady, it is too late to help it
now. I am ruined, utterly ruined! Roy will
£0 back to Canada for her. He will marry her.

e will bring her here—”

A wild groan burst from her lips, and she
‘wrung her hands in mortal agony.

“There is no use in becoming so excited that
‘you lose your ee Iga,” he said, his
own coolness rapidly returning. ‘‘ If it is true,
she must be got rid of, and immediately.”

“ But thereshall be no crime—remember that,
Jerome Welsh. There has been enough evil
done—I never will consent to another. Yet
something must be done—instantly!”

“T willdoit. I will start at once for Canada
and see her, and ae for her removal from
there—where there will be no possibility of her
ever crossing our path again. I will go to-mor-
row. As you say, our interests are one, and,
after planning and hoping for years with the
prospect of making you my wife, I have no idea
of stopping just here, and noe the de-
struction of my schemes. I will go, Olga, and
when I return you will be safe.”

A thrill of hope went all through her at the
sound of his resolute tones,

“Save me, Jerome, and I will be your slave
all my days! I trust you. I believe you will
accomplish what you go todo. How will you
do it?” she suddenly asked.

“That must be decided in my way. But I
will save you, at all costs.”

She shuddered, as he laid his hand on her
shoulder, shrinking as if in contact with a snail.

‘* And lam in his power so completely,” she
thought. Then aloud—‘‘it is all so awfully,
fatefully strange! Who could have foreseen
that the Leighs would educate and adopt her,
after being told she was— I een iy will not

think of it! 1 shall go mad if I do! hen shali
you start?”

He See toa railway guide and consulted
it, then looked at his watch.

‘There is a direct express to Oswego at eleven
fifty. I will go in it. In a week, Olga, your
mind shall be at rest concerning her.”

At lunch, at one o’clock, Olga was her own
brilliant self, and expressed her well-bred sur-
prise when Mr. Severn told her that Welsh had
been called away for several days on private
business. She was devoted and untiring in her
efforts to entertain him, and so far exceeded
herself that he was conscious of a feeling of al-
most aversion toward her.

She did not go out that afternoon, but re-
ceived a call from Sibyl Vincent, and passed an
hour or so in social gossip. In the evening, Mr.
Claremont and Mr. Knight called for a little
while, and Olga tried as she never had tried in
ail her life to fascinate him. She had imagined
he would come, and had aimed at looking her
best, and had succeeded. Her toilet was per-
fection, her jewels elegant, and her personal
beauty at its very best—her dark eyes flashing
with excitement, her cheeks glowing, her whole
self full of a subtle, magnetic influence, that
combined with her sweet, soft voice, her grace
of manner, her alluring smiles, made her indeed
attractive and ench-nting.

But Claremont was proof against it all. The
memory of Stella’s fair young beauty, in its
fresh girlish bloom, the splendid glory in her
blue eyes, the dazzling smile that showed her
magnificent teeth, her slender, graceful figure,
were like a strong fortress around him, and in
comparison with which Olga Osmond’s mature
— seemed almost coarse and common-
place.

It was a sort of test to which Olga subjected
him that evening, ond when he hi ne away
she admitted to herself that she had failed.

‘He will never love me as I love him, that is
certain. But—he never shall marry that girl!”
and she compressed her lips till they made a
thin, pallid line. ‘‘He never shall marry her.

and he shall marry me! Jerome Welsh shall
serve my turn in ridding my path of the girl,
and then I shall serve myself in my turn by
ridding myself of Jerome Welsh, I'll do it~at

 

any cost, at any cost! Before I would marry
him I’d commit any crime!”

She shuddered and paled, but the resolute
look in her eyes did not falter.

The next day she was continually in a state
of suppressed nervous excitement, in momentary
oe of a telegram that should announce
to her Welsh’s successful efforts to find the girl,
and at a late hour in the day the dispatch came
—just before dinner—a dispatch that more
thoroughly terrified her than anything had yet

one.
And this was Jerome Welsh’s message:

“She has permanently left this place. Is living in
New York city.”

If a thunderbolt had fallen at Olga Osmond’s
feet, she could not have been more startled or
panic-stricken. For the moment, she was
wad to rush away and leave are to
blind fate. It seemed to her that Stella had
obtained clews to her own shadowed life-story,
and was on her way to followitup. It seemed
to Olga that she was on the very verge of a
precipice, whose dangerous edge might any in-
stant crumble and let her §° crushing down to
hopeless ruin. Her only hope was in Jerome

elsh. If he failed to accomplish his ends—
then what? She shivered with mortal dread at
the thought.

‘*To think she is here—actually in the same
city, breathing the same air, treading the same
streets! The very thought is madness to me.
What if she should meet Mr. Severn face to
face? What if Roy sees her before Welsh can
hunt her down and dispose of her? Has she fol-
lowed him here—the graceless creature? I
wonder—could Clifford Knight tell me anything
about it?”

By exercise of her wonderful will, Olga con-
cealed her alarm and terror from Mr, Severn,
nor, when the gentlemen called that evening as
usual, did either Claremont or Knight notice
anything about her that betrayed her feelings.

. Severn and Claremont were having a
oe of chess, and Knight and she had with-
rawn apart from them, and were engaged ina
little conversation that Olga gradually brought
around to the important subject on her mind.

“‘T have wanted to ask you so many questions
about your summer’senjoyment,” she said, with
a little confidential smile. ‘From what I have
pier Tam afraid you and Roy flirted a great
dea,

Knight laughed.

“So that’s the game, my fair cousin, is it—
jealous of Stella Carizelle already, and actually
believes she can pump me,”—were his thoughts,
while aloud:

“T think Roy will have to plead guilty. A
plain, old-fashioned fellow like me is not very
phe be the recipient of attentions from your
c ing sex.”

‘Then Roy did flirt with this Miss—Miss
Carizelle, I believe the name is. Is she so very
beautiful, Clifford?”

““Remarkably so, and as dainty and intelli-
gent as refined and modest,” he answered, con-
scious of a sense of amusement as he realized
how he was making Mrs. Osmond’s attempts a
vivid failure.

“Judging from what you saw of her, do you
think she is very much in love with him?”

‘I think so. And Roy loves her with all his
heart.”

Olga found that none of her questions led to
any information not already possessed. She
dared not ask him outright if he knew her city
address, because she did not wish him to know
she knew of Stella’s presence in the city. So
the attempt failed, miserably.

“ He thinks I am jealous,” she said to herself.
‘*He little knows why I have questioned him.
But, he is very deep. Evidently he knows not
as much of her as I do.”

While Mr. Knight, with a smile on his lips,
that his beard concealed, thought to himself:

“You can’t make anything out of me, my
lady!”

 

CHAPTER XV.
‘(4 MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE.”

HAvinG obtained Sibyl Vincent’s consent to
an immediate and secret marriage, Clifford
Knight did not permit any time to be wasted,
or any eae a oo interfere with the
speedywaccomplishment of his purposes.

That he iad not the first feeling of affection
toward her, was of no consequence, whatever,
in his estimation—and that he did love Stella
Carizelle better than anything in the world ex-
cept his greedy, avaricious ambition for riches,
did not make him falter in his determination.

Yet, that night, after having seen Stella, so
suddenly and unexpectedly, Clifford Knight
found himself too excited and agitated to sleep.
Hour after hour he paced the floor of his rooms,
strangely conflicting emotions holding com-
plete possession of him, now torn by passionate
yearning for Stella, and filled with sharp re-
tTorse as he realized the treachery and sin
which he had enacted and yet contemplated,
now exulting in his grand prospects, his won-
derful suecess in having won Sibyl Vincent for
his wife.

“Tf only things could be as I would have

 

them,” he thought, as he quickened his pace,
and his dark face glowed with excitement.
““Why could not Stella Carizelle have loved
me, and had the fortune and position? Sheisso
— lovely, so innocent and sweet and re-

ned and proud—of all women the one I love
with all my soul. AndI detest Sibyl Vincent!
What a cruel thing Fate is to some of us!”

The excitement died slowly out of his face,
leaving it pale and haggard.

at atif Ido hate the woman I will marry
for the sake of her money? It will be a mar-
riage of convenience for me—I shall gain every-
a it—except the one love I crave. e
will be a model fashionable pair—Sibyl and I.
She will be happy in her own way, with her
hundred petty interests, that will never clash
with me. She will have her dressmakers and
milliners to amuse her, the shopping tours that
are the delight of a woman’s existence, her
horses and carriage, her dinner jes and her
box at the opera and theater. will have my
yacht, my fast horses, my club, my own amuse-
ments, my own friends. e will not run across
each other’s path—but if we should, I shall lose
on —— = teaching her Cee master. —

0 as ease in every possible respect—I wi
be able bo afford to do as I please and I shall
permit no one to criticise or attempt to control
my actions.”

et, notwithstanding the look of complacency
on his face, there was a certain wo! ig fear
that intruded —, into his thoughts.

“If Stella should learn of my marriage! It
will be a risk I shall have to run, and it will
take all my precaution and shrewdness. Can I
carry it successfully out, I wonder? Dare I go
on with my scheme?”

And, alone with the silence of the night, he
sat before his fire, blaming destiny for his own
wickedness, shrinking from the sin in his heart,
yet inflexibly resolved to pursue the path laid
down for himself.

The next evening he saw Sibyl, after the
hour spent at Mr. Severn’s, and arrangements
were made for a private marriage on the day
but one following, Sibyl insisting that since she
was obliged to forego all the display she had al-
ways anticipated at her wedding ceremony,
she must haye time to furnish herself a bridal
dress, at least.

Of course Knight consented to a delay so
trifling, and the time was arran: for a morn-
ing wedding, secret and quiet, in St. Guelph’s
church, a plain, unfashionable little house of
worship in a quiet part of the city, where even
mice passer-by would not be very apt to in-

e.

A little before the appointed time, on the
eventful day, Knight drove up to Miss Vincent’s
residence in a handsome close clarence, his dark,
handsome face full of satisfaction as he bowed
to her from the steps as he ascended, for Sibyl
was standing at the window, a look of eager
anxiety on her face. She was very hand-
ot almost too elaborately for the house, he
thought, and as he gave her a lover-like greet-
ing he thought what a coarse, vulgar old wo-
man she would make,

ab) ere ready?” she asked, trying to
appear afrchly careless, in reality obliged to use
a stern self-control not to betray her anxiety.

“Everything is in readiness, and awaits the
charming bride. I have spoken to the rector,
and the sexton, and the chapel is now open.
But why are you not ready, Sibyl? You surely
do not mean to withdraw from your agree-
ment?”

He had seated himself on a sofa, and drawn
ot to his side, his arm encircling her waist,
his hand caressing one of her plump, braceleted.
wrists.

She laughed—a little uneasily. It seemed to
her she never would be at rest again until se-
curely his wife. .

“What an idea, Clifford! I was only think-
ing perhaps you—perhaps reteset have
happened to prevent our wedding. How strange
it seems to think there are to be no guests, no
flowers, no grand breakfast, no anything! I
will console myself by enn a most magnifi-
cent trousseau afterward, Clifford. Iwill have
my dresses from Worth, and my laces made to
order. I intend to create a sensation to recom-
pense me for this quiet secret marriage. Ishall
make my hay while—”

She abruptly hesitated at his look of surprise.

““What do you mean by that, dearest? Surely
you donot imagine that your income will dis-
appear with your name? You will retain full
control of your property, Sibyl, and you will
find that your slightest caprice shall be my duty
and delight to indulge and gratify.”

She smiled, but a great throb of terror nearly
choked her as she realized how nearly she had
betrayed herself.

“You are so good, Clifford,” she said. ‘TI
shall buy the rarest jewels money can procure,
and costly India shawls, and priceless silks and
velvets. I want you to be proud of me, I want

to have your wife the best dressed woman in
New York. And now tell me more about the
marriage.”

He drew her to him in an affectionate way.
‘It is time for you to dress for your bridal,
my darling,” he said, ina low, eager tone—for
 

 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

44,

 

the same fear Sibyl was experiencing was strong
upon him—the horrible fear lest something, he
knew not what, should interfere with the mar-

riage. z

“Tt is time for us to be going. The carriage
is at the door, and the rector is in waiting.
Have your maid get you ready at once, dearest,
and we will be off. Is your uncle at home?”

“‘He went out an hour or so ago for his usual
walk,” she said, carelessly. ‘‘I will go dress at
once, Clifford. I will be ready. in a very short
time.”

It seemed an eternity to him that he waited
although it was not half an hour before Sibyl
came down, dressed in a magnificent, toilet of

white lace and satin, and sprays of lilies and |

orange-blossoms, and Knight’s heart. thrilled at
sight of her.as he thought that in a little while
| her vast possessions would be safely and for-
ever his own. !
- “You-are beautiful as a dream, Sibyl,” he
said, with an enthusiasm he felt, and. that
pleased her vanity. ‘‘ But how are you to es-
notice in such attire?”
he laughed, and bade him give her the dark-
colored light. textured circular that lay on a
chair, and that, clasped all the way down the
front, completely concealed the snowy dress
beneath. |

Her eyes were shining like stars as they drove
away in the carriage, and she laughed and
chatted in gay excitement all the way to the
quiet little church of St. Guelph’s, where Knight
assisted her out and escorted her in, closing the
door carefully after them, and removing her
hat and wrap for her in the vestébule. j

The rector was in waiting, and the gray-
headed sexton stood in respectful readiness to
act us witness if so aesined and in a moment
the bridal pair were in position at thealtar, and
the solemn beautiful service was said, and Clif-
ford sanighh and Sibyl Vincent were man and
wife, and the bitter mockery was over.

‘A look.of elation was on night’s face as he
greeted his bride. He had accomplished his
aueone he had married a fortune, while Siby]

wa long breath of relief, as she realized
that she was at last virtually mistress of Mt.
Severn, and that the rightful owner of Vincent
Place might return as soon as he pleased now.

The marriage-certificate was made out, and
Knight had alipned a generous fee into the
clergyman’s hand, and Sibyl was buttoning her

dong white kid glove, when Mr. Mark Rivers

_ Sibyl with a little easy nod that she returned as

congratulate
dear

stepped up to the little party, and greeted
ingl

stall g) y
Then he turned to Knight, with a look of
«complacency.

_ You romantic youn lovers have stolen a
march upon us all, have you? Well—I was
young and hotheaded once myself and I can ap-
preciate {ust how you came to do it. Let me
you—my children. Sibyl, m

Mrs. Knight, I wish you all imaginable

happiness. Clifford, my boy, I congratulate
you with all my heart.”

He kissed his niece cordially and shook hands
with Knight.
__ ‘*But how came you here?” he asked. ‘‘How
did you know of our intention? When did .you
arrive upon the scene?”
“Tt all occurred naturally enough, my dear
fellow. J was walking past the church on the
other side. of the street, when I saw you and
Sibyl alight from the carriage. Of course I at
once § ised what was to take place, although
I failed to see the necessity of such a romantic

_ way of proceeding. But as I said, young peo-

coun

pial) e young pecnle, but I must confess I
1d no idea you two were so desperately in
love with each other. Shall you spend your
oon in town, or traveling or at your
'y-seat, Mr. Knight? Of course, you are
master at Vincent Place now.”

Knight’s heart thrilled at the words. Yes—
he was master at Vincent Place—one of the
finest estates in America.

_“Weshall remain in town,” he said, easily.
“Tam glad you receive the knowledge of our
escapade so pleasantly, Mr. Rivers. @ were
afraid you and Mr. Severn would be angry—

but really we have only hastened what would

have occurred a little later. I hope Mr. Sev-

_ ern will be as cordial as you are.’

x

“TT hope so—but we cannot tell. Take my
advice and tell him at once, Knight. He is
fond of Sibyl, and even if he feels a temporary
yexation, I think he will be reconciled when he
knows you have confessed at once.”

“Ves, let us go to him at once, Clifford,”
Sibyl said, eagerly. ‘‘Ishall not be perfectly
happy until I know your uncle is not angry
with us.” ‘

She was indeed full of anxiety in regard to
Mr. Severn’s possible reception of the news,

_ while Knight, with Vincent Place as his own,

ed none of her feelings, and merely felt de-
sirous of having the news broken and over with.
“‘Perhaps it would be as well,” he said.
“‘Wo will drive down at once, and tell my
uncle and Mrs. Osmond. I have no idea he
will be angry.”
“T dare say he will think as I do, that you
chave been ueey and absurdly romantic, but we
will trust to Sibyl to reconcile him, Clifford,

1

 

Women are natural diplomats, and if Mrs. Os-
mond adds her influence, it will all be well.
There is but one thing for me to regret in this
hasty marriage, knowing as I do that it is true
love that prompted it; and that is, Knight, that
there should have have been no business ar-
rangement. In justice to Sibyl, there should
have been. She is immensely rich, and—”

“Mrs. Knight will retain the same exclusive
control of her property that Miss Vincent did,”
Clifford interrupted, with a smile in. his bride’s
face. “I think Sibyl and I perfectly under-
stand each other on that score. E

And so. they proceeded to Mr. Severn’s resi-
dence, reaching there just as lunch was an-
nounced,

 

CHAPTER XVI.
TAKING UP THE CROSS.

As Stella Carizelle, in her delight at seeing
a familiar face ina place where she was so to-
tally a stranger, forgot her former distrust of
its possessor, so Elsbeth, glad to see Clifford
Knight’s face in the city where all faces were
so strange, forgot her own’ previous dislike: of
him woe een period: of his stay in the Cana-
dian neighborhood.

His little private conversation with her, at
the close of his eall upon Stella, had changed
her honest, simple. mind. toward him, and she
was conscious of a sensation of keen pleasure to
know Mr. eaten so earnestly loved her young
mistress, and desired to befriend her in every
way in his power.

She had believed every word he said, both
about his love for Stella, and Mr. Claremont’s
defection toward her, and in her thankfulness
that she'and Stella had learned so promptly of
Claremont’s cruelty, Elsbeth was more than
ready to use all her influence with Stella to’ in-
duce her tolisten to Mr. Knight’s suit.

“YT have wronged him—I thought last sum-
mer that Mr. Claremont was the better one
of the two, and now I know that Mr. Knight is.
He is a gentleman, and a friend, and Miss Stella
could desire no better one, While I am with
her, I can guard and protect her, but if I should
die—what would she do, young, friendless, beau-
tiful as she is? Yes—she surely will see it as I
see it—that it would be a good thing for her to
marry Mr. Knight and secure the delightful
home, the comforts, the independence for life.
And since Mr. Claremont has treated her so
cruelly and has shown his villainous heartless-
ness, it seems to me that after a little, Miss
Stella’s pride will come to the rescue and she
will marry Mr. Knight—if only to prove that
Mr. Claremont did not break her heart.”

Thoughts such as these occurred continually
to Elsbeth during the evening, when no sound
came from Stella’s bedroom to indicate the bat-
tle going on between her wounded love‘and her
wounded pride.

She did not appear again that night, but the
next morning she came out to breakfast at her
usual hour, dressed with her customary care
and neatness. Her sweet face was very pale,
and a great, unspeakable sorrow was expressed
on her lovely mouth. Calm and composed in
voice, and look, and manner, there was yet un-
mistakable signs of what she had eer through,
cf the pitiful desolation that had swept so sud-
denly across her young heart.

She smiled as she saw Elsbeth—a sweet, yet
wintry little smile whose gentle patience went
like a barb through the faithful servant’s heart.

‘So you are up betimes, Miss Stella,” she said,
cheerily.

“Oh, yes,” Stella rejoined, as she sipped her
chocolate slowly. ‘‘ You remember I must go
to work in g earnest to-day, Elsbeth.”

Elsbeth toasted a slice of bread in thoughtful
silence, and then delivered iton Stella’s plate,
and deliberately stood opposite her. —

“T want to speak a word with you, Miss
Stella,” she said, in a resolute, respectful way.
“Last night, when I went to see Mr. Knight
out of the front door, he kept me to say some-
thing tome. Miss Stella, you have misjudged
Mr. Knight. We have not given him credit
for his good qualities—I have already discovered
that much, eis good, and kind, and thought-
ful, and he told me if there was anything what-
ever he could do for you, he would be proud
and happy to do it. He bade me say to you
that, if you needed a friend, he begged you
would honor him by allowing him to be that
friend,”

Stella listened gravely.

‘Mr. Knight is very kind, but I shall not
have occasion to call upon him. Did he say—
anything more about—about Mr. Claremont?”

er voice trembled just the least imaginable.

“Yes,” Elsbeth admitted, ‘‘he did. He told
me that when Mr. Claremont met you last sum-
mer, he had had a lovers’ quarrel with his cou-
sin, and that it was as much pique as anything
that caused him to pay his attentions to you.
So I suppose,” she added, reluctantly, ‘‘that he
was not so very bad, after all, when he asked
Mr. Leigh's permission to marry you.”

A sudden radiance shone all over Stella’s face
—a light as when a sunset breaks through pale
misty clouds.

 

“Did he tell you that? Mr. Claremont was
honorably free when he asked for me! Oh, I

knew it, Elsbeth! I knew he could not have

been so traitorous to me and to another woman.
who loved him. I knew it!” “ar?

Her blue eyes were full of radiant light.

“Tt may not have been dishonorable, seeing
that he had broken his engagement with his
cousin, but—his renewal of it, as soon as he re-
tarned, proves that he did not love you—for-
give me, Miss Stella—and that he has easily
put all the remembrance of you and his sum-
mer at the Thousand Islands out of his mind.”

Stella’s face suddenly. flushed.

“You are wrong. there, Elsbeth,” she an-
swered, her voice ee with sudden pas-
sionateness—“‘ Mr. Claremont has not forgot-
ten’ his summer trip, nor has he put. me out of
his remembrance.. No one could make me be-
lieve that of him. I would stake my life on his
honor and his faith and his nobility.” .

Elsbeth looked amazed,

‘*Miss Stella! You mean to say you. do,not -

believe that Mr. Claremont is engaged to be
married to his cousin?” :

“T believe it, but such a belief has no effect
on my opinion of him, Mr. Claremont never
was engaged to. me—he had a right to renew
his betrothal to his cousin, for . Leigh told
him he did not consider a marriage between us
suitable. I can understand how it is. After
Mr. Claremont returned, he thought it.all over,
and decided that. Mr. Leigh was right. His
beautiful cousin loved him, he cared for her—
he is honorable and noble, Elsbeth, he could not.
be otherwise,” j

Elsbeth listened, and looked at. her youn
mistress in amazement. Such logic was far -be-
yond her comprehension. f t

‘Then, Miss Stella, you did not love Mr.
Claremont'so dearly, after all?”

A perfect glow of passionate glory shone in
her blue eyes, and a look of dazzling radiance
was on her face. carl

‘‘Oh, Elsbeth! Love him!”—and her sweet:
voice was strangely pathetic in contrast with
the jones on her face. ‘‘ Yes, yes, I love him.
with all my heart. Ishalllove him as long as
llive. I never shall forget him, or believe him
dishonorableor unmanly. Ishall pray for him,
that he may be happy, whenever I pray for
mryeelt yet I never shall see him again, Els-

eth!

Elsbeth’s lips unconsciously quivered. at Stel-
la’s ardent, passionate tones.

‘‘T cannot comprehend you, Miss Stella. You
love him, yet you give him up—-” i

‘‘No—he gaye me up, because he discovered:
he loved another better,” Stella said, softly.
“You would not have had him make himself
and his cousin miserable ony to as me?
What a blessed woman she is, Klsbeth.”

“And you will pray for her happiness, too,
Miss Stella?” All the solemn brightness sud-
denly vanished from her face, as though one
had extinguished a brilliant light.

“No! No, I cannot a ‘or her,” she an-
swered, a bitter thrill of jealousy striking like a
cruel dart through her. “I could not wish her
happiness with him—not yet,” and a great pas-~
sionate thrill was in her young voice.
want him to be happy, aud he cannot be because
he will remember me and how 1 love him, and
how I must suffer, and it is because only God
can make him happy that I shall pray for his
welfare.”

“Then,” Elsbeth said, promptly, seeing that
her time had come, “then, Miss Stella, you
fear he believes you are suffering because he de-
serted you, why do ae not prove to him that
i are not pinin;

‘ollow his example and marry too?” —
Stella smiled faintly.
“T shall never marry, Elsbeth. Besides, my

circle of gentlemen friends is not extensive, you —

ow. ”

‘“‘But I know one thing, and that is, Miss.
Stella, that there is one gentleman who wor-

ships the very ground you walk on, who has.
loved you all the time, and who asks no greater
honor and happiness than to have you for his.
wife. Miss Stella, I mean Mr. Knight.”

A look of intense surprise dawned on Stella’s:

face.

‘““You have made a strange mistake, Elsbeth.
Mr. Knight never had any thoughts about me.”

Elsbeth looked positive.

“But I am not mistaken, Miss Stella. If I
am a plain old woman Ican read a man’s looks.
and actions as well as thenextone, Mr. Knight
loves you—I know it—and he would marry you
out of hand. Why wouldn’t you marry him,
Miss Stella? He is well off, he would give youa
pleasant, comfortable home, he would introduce
you into good society. You would never have.
to work any more, you would ride in your car-
riage and have your servants, Why wouldn’t
you marry him, dear Miss Stella? I wish you
would.”

The look of utter surprise on Stella’s face
deepened at Elsbeth’s earnest words. :

“T cannot imagine why you speak so. I

cularly like

always thought you did not
. Knight.” . ry
“T have changed my mind. I think he is
good and kind and thoughtful, and I know he

or him? Why do you not

‘Bue I

1

 

 

 

gtimebay

ca

 

 

 
ne

» >

{a

“IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

‘loves ou. It would be the best day of your

life when you marry him.”

“Do not speak go, dear old Elsbeth. Sucha
thing could never be—no marriage can ever be
forme. We will get on well enough together.
We will be happy and cheerful, and you’ shall
be my dear best friend. You remember how
you counseled me to control Oe ae when—
they died? Now advise me to brave, Els-
beth. I will be brave, and bear my sorrows as
a woman should, and not give way to tears and
ees and useless regrets. You ‘can
help me, Elsbeth. Please do not talk to me
about Mr. Claremont yet.. After a while I will
bé better able to bear the sound of his name. I
shall work hard, Elsbeth, to drown my thoughts.
There is nothing like work for trouble, I have
heard.” -

She arose from the dainty little breakfast
table, and, in a to her bright, cosey corner
where she had arranged her sewing-chair and
materials for work, she gave Elsbeth an af-
fectionate little caress on the cheek.

She sat down at her work, a fea of dainty
azure silk embroidery on azure flannel, and her
needle flew fast and silently, while Elsbeth ate
her breakfast.

“T wish I could see this Mrs. Osmond,” Stella
said, abruptly, and a pitiful little smile on Els-
beth’s face showed how she understood that
already the poor hurt heart had forgotten its
resolves.

But, nothing further was said, and Stella
hushed down the sudden little jealous up-rising
that had prompted the spoken wish'to see Olga
Osmond.

Nothing more was said then on that day, nor
for many days. Elsbeth was wise, and decided
she had done her duty for the present, so far as
introducing her subject was concerned.

While Stella resolutely kept watch and ward
over herself, and put in practice her deter-
mination not to speak Roy Claremont’s' name.
She devoted herself to her work, sitting. at it
early and late, and adding to it the branch of
hand-painting, in which she was an expert.
She found even readier sales for her beautiful
plaques, and panels, and handscreens, and fan
and between tho two artistic industries, an
her indefatigable efforts, earned a comfortable
weekly amount. }

But, she grew paler and thinner, and her
sweet blue eyes seemed to be larger, and cer-
tainly were sadder and graver, and many a
oe there were dark circles under them
that told of the sleepless night—and of silent
erying alone on her pillow.

et Stella never complained, and no one but
her God knew of the hours of struggle in prayer.
the heart-crushing storm of sobs and tears tha’
almost broke her heart in her desperate fight
for endurance. ;

During those days, Mr. Knight called occasion-
ally, conducting himself with admirable gravity
and quiet thoughtfulness that unconsciously
won him a place in Stella’s esteem, and that in-
creased Elsbeth’s ardent wish that Miss Stella
would marry him—and the while—his wife
awaiting him at home!

 

CHAPTER XVII.
“ SHOURE.”

NOTWITHSTANDING her determined efforts to
be courageous, Sibyl’s heart sunk and thrilled
in alternate hope and fear, and. her face paled
as the little bridal party entered the parlors of
Mr. Severn’s mansion—Knight and his bride
first,and Mr. Rivers following, for that worthy
gentleman considered it best to remain dis-
creetly in the rear until he saw how the land

lay.

Despite her ag pton; however, Sibyl could
not forbear looking around her at the mag-
nificence and luxury on every hand, and ber
heart thrilled with exultation as she real-
ized that, when she gave up Vincent Place to its
rightful owner, it would be, in all human

robability, to be mistress of this splendid home.
She realized that she had played a darin;
game, and, so far, played _it Greedy well, an
the next half-hour would decide her destiny be-
yond dread of change.

Knight inquired of the servant for Mr. Sev-
ern, and was told he was alone in the library.

‘* We will go in without being announced,” he
said. ‘‘Come, Sibyl, take my arm. Why!
You are actually trembling. You are not
afraid?”

She gave a little nervous laugh.

“T believe I am afraid, Clifford,” she an-
swered, as they crossed the wide hall, ‘‘ Sup-

se your uncle refuses to forgive you, Clifford?
Bnppeee he ordersus from his house and refuses
torecognize us? Oh, Clifford, I am afraid!”

“Well, su) he does?’ Knight rejoined,

ndly. ‘Not that I for a moment imagine
it, but, if he does, it cannot matrrially affect
our happiness. We have no reason to tremble
for fear he will withhold his smiles. All his an-

r, allhis frowns, cannot deprive us of your

ortune and our home at Vincent Place. We
can exist without him, Sibyl.”

A cold shiver passed over her at his words.
Ah, how little he dreamed that her colossal for-

tune, her glorious estate, were all melting out
of her grasp as snow before the sun. How little
he dreamed they were actual di dents on Mr.
Severn’s bounty, unless they chose to live on
the amount granted yearly to Knight. He saw
how’ deathly pale she was, and he laughed.

“You are a coward, Sibyl. Comeon, and let
us know all there is to know.”

As they crossed the great wide hall, Sibyl had
loosened ‘and removed her circular; and Mr.
Rivers laid it on a Gothic chair, and, in all her
radiant bridal attire, clinging to her husband’s
arm, she went into the library.

Although only Iunch-time, the great deep
room was dusk and dim, for the curtains were
dropped at several windows. <A fire crackled
and glowed behind the silver base of the grate,
and a pleasant hush was in the room, broken
only by the traveling over the paper of the pen
in Mr. Severn’s fingers.

He looked'up, smiling, courteous, as he heard
them enter, and went forward to welcome
them.

“This is as poers as unexpected, Miss Vin-
cent. Clifford, good-morning.' It cannot be
possible you are only just returned from a last
be masquerade ball?”

e glanced at Sibyl’s dress, and her heart
bat almost stopped by its panic-stricken
ats.

““Oh, no, sir! ‘We—that is—I—we—”

She hesitated, her voice trembling painfully,

Knight smiled, and relieved her from the ex-
planation.

““We have not been masquerading, sir. We
have come to tell you that we love each other
very dearly and ardently, and: wish above all
things your blessing, and approval of our mar-
riage, which was privately solemnized an hour
_ St. ties

r. Severn listened as though he had been
petrified.

‘¢ Allow me to present my wife, sir, Mrs. Clif-
ford Knight.”

A look of amazement and anger was in Mr;
Severn’s blue'eyes.

““What! your wife! You are married? Or
is this a miserable jest? Remember, I do not
—_ practical jokes, Clifford.”

‘It is no jest, sir. Sibyl and I were married
this morning. We love each other, and were of
the same mind that there was no use in waiting
while cards were issued, and elaborate prepara-
tions made. Our marriage is not a secret one,
it was only ee and all we care for, or ask,
is your kind sanction.”

r. Severn compressed his lips, and his eyes
grew cold and stern.

“My sanction! Why did you not behave
like a man, Clifford, and marry your bride asa
man would? I consider you have done a con-
temptible thing.”

night’s face flushed, but he controlled him-
self well.

“T thought you would willingly bestow
your approval, sir, since, you remember, you

ld me you would be pleased if I won Hiss
Vincent.’

“Yes, I aa so, but I did not suppose

ou would act like a ee. in the matter.

ou haven’t been acquain long enough to
even know each other yet, and—you have run
off and got married! I supposed you would
cultivate each other and—Clifford, I never
would have believed you were such a fool. My
approval, my sanction—such a hot-headed mar-
riage as this! You cannot have'either. I am
surprised, displeased, offended at your unpar-
donable want of common-sense and good taste.”

His blue eyes were full of indignant fire, and
his grand voice rung out cold and uncompro-
mising. 5 :

Knight smiled indifferently and bowed—the
husband of an heiress, the master of Vincent
Place could afford to do it. :

‘* As you please, sir. We have done our duty
in telling you. Come, Sibyl. We have our
own home to go to.”

‘Go! You are not welcome here. I had
thought better things of you, madam, but we
will let that pass.”

Knight offered his arm to his wife, but she re-
fused it. She knew how awfully important it
was that there be a reconciliation between Mr.
Severn and his nephew, and all her eager anx-¢
iety was on her face as she suddenly rushed for-
ward, and seized Mr. Severn’s hands, her lips
quivering, her eyes full of desperate tears.

“Ob; Mr. Severn, please don’t be angry with
us! eee do not send us from you in
this way! e love each other so, and we both
thought you would be pleased! Won’t you for-
give us—won’t you forgive me?”

Her passionate pleading was hard to resist.
All her soul was in her eyes, and her pale,
handsome face, as it was uplifted to his, was
full of a woman’s heartfelt entreaty. Mr. Sey-
ern’s face involuntarily softened, and Sibyl fol-
lowed up her slight advantage with an agony
of passionate earnestness that Knight could not
are ikehotasweliatangiie depended

ut she knew that upon her prayers de)
2 weal, in-

 

all her hopes. She realized with a
tensity that nothing would be too at to do,
to further effect this restoration to Mr. Severn’s

favor, To her, it was a matter scarcely less

 

important than life and death, and her words
were urged by that conviction.

‘** Oh, sir, we have been foolish and hasty, but,
indeed, indeed, we meant no wrong. We
thought you would not only approve, but be

leased at our little romance, Mr: Severn!

Will you not take back what you said? Uncle
Mark has forgiven us—will not you? I will be
so good. I will love you and be your own
child and do ste I may to' make you
happy, to make you glad Clifford married me
Won't you forgive us, sir?” :

It would have been a harder heart than Mr.
Severn’s that denied the girl’s passionate prayer.
He looked at her as she spoke. He remembered
how Olga Osmond had disappointed him. His
life was a lonely one at best; was it possible that _
this girl might be a sunshine in it, anew blessed.
élement of comfort and joy? ’ j

He leaned forward—conquered. }

“You have won; my dear, I forgive you,
Sibyl.”

And he kissed her cheek, ‘in token of his full
free pardon, and then turned to Knight. © = '

‘““We will make the best of it, Clifford. Per-
haps I was a little hasty in my judgment; at all
— we will begin again, ‘for this fair ride’s

e

Mr. Rivers vette forward from his position
in the hall, and a few more words were ex-
changed that placed the entire party entirely on
a delightful footing. « Hit £ @

“And now we will all have lunch together,”
Mr. Severn said, hospitably: “It isnot exact-
ly what I would wish for a wedding breakfast,
but we will do the best we can. I-willsend for
Mrs. Osmond to offer her congratulations before
we adjourn to the dining-room:” Aud

“The = ele is waiting, Mr. Severn, that
conveyed our bridal party from St. Guelph’s, _
and which was to take them home. Iwill order
it home, shall I?? Mr. Rivers said, pleasantly,
and when he had'sent the message by the porter,
he found a moment in which to speak privately
to their host. i

“ After all, sir, what real difference does it
make that these young people fancied'a romantic

uiet marriage, at their own convenience, when
they knew that you and myself had ii ted
our satisfaction if they betrothed themselves?
They have only accelerated matters for they
surely would have married a few months later.
For my own part, I confess: I am satisfied and
even rama with this romantic ardor. It is
refreshing in these days of artificial sentiment
and marriages of policy and convenience, to
know there are some hearts in whom love is
paramount,”

Mrs. Osmond came in as Mr. Rivers ceased
speaking, and a brief explanation followed,
after which Olga expressed her surprise and her
satisfaction and offered her congratulations in a
charming way. P

An elaborate lunch was discussed, and an
hour or so given to conversation, and then the
little bridal party took their leave, and were
driven home, where Mr. Rivers had p:
them by a few minutes, and, upon their arrival,
invited them into the reception room.

“T have a word to say to you, Mr. Knight,
that I hope will please you, perk show you thatI
do not hold any disapproval o your stolen mar-
riage with the heiress of Vincent Place. Assoon
as {conveniently could, dfter your marria;
ceremony—while you and Sibyl were in the li-
brary with your unele—I dispatched a telegram
to the steward at Vincent ‘rina, announcing
your marriage, with orders to have a wedding-
feast instantly prepared, and the house deco-
rated and illuminated for this evening. ‘There
is to be a ball in the servants’ hall, and the tower
bell will be rung in honor of the event. I de-
sire that my niece spend her honeymoon in her —
own home, where you will be installed and re-
cognized as master. Iam aware you had ar-
ranged to remain in town, but I think you will
concur with me that my plan is more desirable
—and it is only natural that you should wish to
£0 to yourown. Thereis atrain at four-fifteen
that will be met by the Vincent Place coach,
and you will reach home by six.”

His rol pre was greeted with delight by
both Sibyl and Knight, and Sibyl at once be-
gan her preparations to go to Vincent Place.

The evening was bright and ¢old, and Vincent
Place looked gay and glad as they dashed up to ~
the grand entrance, between six and seven
o’clock, to find the servants in holiday attire
and wedding favors waiting to receive them, —
the immense house lighted from dome to base-
ment, and ms and floral devorations in
every desirable place, and Clifford Knight felt
an exultant thrill of delight as he led his bride
into the — hall, where servants greeted

them, and Rivers presented him as their
new master a
It was the first time Knight had ever been in-

side Vincent Place, and i
lendor was amazing to him, a
though he was to luxury and elegance, and he

looked slowly about him with kindling eyesand =

quickened breathing.
‘aon ‘Sibyl an a I Se ;
2 Si intently watchi is face, read 4
his exultant thoogitte plainly, and suiled qui- 5

etly. i

 

extent and royal ‘a
\

 
 

16

 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

 

**T will go to my rooms, if you will excuse me

for a while,” she said. ‘Dinner will be served

at eight o’clock, and while we are waiting, un-

clo Mark will show you your rooms, Clifford,”
said,

Mz. Rivers was all attention, and conducted
Knight to a magnificent suit of rooms, leading
into Sibyl’s by a connecting door between the
dressing-rooms.

Mr. Wives withdrew, leaving Knight to him-
self, and a little while afterward returned to
the drawing-room, where he found Sibyl, stand-
ing alone before the glowing grate-fire, in full
evening dress of salmon satin and diamonds,
her cheeks flushed to the tint of a wild rose, her
eyes shining with excitement and satisfaction,

he entered the room she laughed.

“Well, uncle Mark, I have conquered Fate
itself. Ihave succeeded in securing myself for
_all_time.” .

, de looked pemizingty at her.
‘By Jove, that you have, Sibyl! I congratu-

‘late you as being the cutest girl in America.

‘Yes, you havesecured your position as Clifford
it’s. wife, but even yet you have a
, work to do. You have to insinuate
yourself into . Severn’s gi graces
until he shall have installed you mistress of his
home, until he thinks you are the one woman
inthe world. You can doit, Sibyl. You have
fooled husband into Abinking you are in
love with him—you must dupe Mr. Severn as
well—until you aré actually his heiress. And—
be continually on your guard never to betray
ourself, so that when the owner of Vincent
lace comes back, no one will be more astounded.
and epens rok than yourself.”
‘sie. id with that advice, Sibyl began her wedded
dt
They remained at Vincent Place a fortnight
or more, during which time Knight visited the
city several times, each time calling upon Stella
Carizelle, and learning that the news of his
marriage which had been kept from the papers
in a sensational point of view, and only pub-
lished plainly in. the usual. column, -had not
been observed by her. Had it been, he intended
to deny it, and attribute the publication to a

cruel jest.

But, Stella had not seen it. She resolutely
avoided reading the daily papers during those
days of struggle, for fear lest she should read
of Roy Claremont and Mrs. Osmond—and. she
could not bear that yet.

At the end of a fortnight Mr. Severn wrote a
note to Sibyl, in which he expressed his regrets
that he had ever been at all harsh on the sub-
< of her marriage, and invited her to make

is house her home during the remainder of the
winter, adding that he anticipated much hap-
piness from her presence, and intimating that
as he expected to make her husband his heir, it
was well for them to be at once established on
an intimate footing.

Her eyes gleamed as she read the letter.

_ “Tam satisfied—satisfied at last,” she thought,
exultantly, ‘‘I shall be mistress of Mt, Severn
—and Clifford: believes he is master of Vincent
Place. Let him abide in his false hope—he
will awake to the truth soon enough, and find
for what a price he has sold himself! I shall
not care, however—I am secure!”

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE FINGER OF FATE.

THosE early days of Clifford Knight's mar-
riage ; those spent by Olga Osmond, after
Jerome Welsh’s unsuccessful return from the
Thousand Islands; and her own equally unsuc-
cessful attempts {o discover an:

from Mr. Knight concerning Miss Carizelle,

_ during which time she was forever on the alert,

- wealthy an:

oe

always scheming and planning, were days of
quiet industry and gentle patience on Stella
8 4 ;

Her work was engady: sought for, and the
ee of one of the most famous Broadway
ouses had tobe her so many orders, from its

aristocratic patrons who had seen
Stella’s exquisite workmanship and unique de-
signs in fancy embroidery, that she found her-
‘tat obliged to devote herself entirely to its
commissions, and even then she was forced to be
up ear and late to supply the demand.

She did not complain, however, and although

- Elsbeth expostulated with her, Stella invariably

freak of Fate she shoul

came off victorious in their little argument.

“It is good for me to_be thus occupied,” she
would say, gravely. ‘‘ It leaves me less time to
think.”

_ Asshe had resolutely decided, Stella did not
spt herself to speak of her troubles, nor al-
ow Elsbeth to discuss Roy Claremont, True,
Clifford Knight made his friendly calls, and oc-
casionally. Claremont’s name, and Mrs. Os-
mond’s name was spoken, but beyond the mere

_ eonventionality, nothing further was permit-

Every time that Stella had occasion to visit
ore for —— she pean, she
took especial pains to wear her vail when pass-
ing through the street, lest, by some avenge
come face to face with

|

information

the man she loved—and she felt that with her
face covered, she could better avoid a recogni-
tion which would be so painfully eruel to her,
passionately tuough h:r young heart longed to
see him again.

It was one crisp, cold day in early winter
that she had occasion to visit her employer’s
place of business to return an articleof rare
elegance that one of the lady patrons had or-
dered—and it was at the fashionable hour for
snopping that Stella entered the emporium and
made her way to the department devoted tothe
sale of her style of work.

The lady in charge was at the moment occu-
pied with a lady customer who was seated on
one of the velvet-cushioned stools at the coun-
ter, and with her native modesty and refine-
ment, Stella stood back at a short distance un-
til the pene abonla be disen; rel
task o: laying the same le 01
some of the very articlesStellahad made. _

“T see nothing that I like,” Mrs. Osmond said,
discontentedly. ‘I want a combination that
no one has ventured on, yet. Gold, rose and
azure, for instance, Haye you no vests em-
broidered in those shades?”

The on looked at Stella, sitting quietly
@ little way off.

‘We can have you one made to order—this
is the young lady who does our fancy embroid-
ears i iss Carizelle, please step this way a mo-
ment.

If Olga had been electrified, she could hardly
have suffered a more horribly startled sensation
as the name ‘‘ Miss Carizelle” left the sales-
lady’s li She looked suddenly around, and
saw 8! , and a new thrill of excitement and

sweet, pale face, the beautiful, mournful blue
eyes, the proud, thoughtful mouth, the waves
of bright gold hair curling in love rings beneath
the edge of the little velvet Derby.

‘*Who did you say? Miss—”

She repeated it, wondering if either of them
could detect the agitation on her face, or the
wild excitement she felt pulsing hotly all over

her. ‘

Stella herself stepped forward.

‘“My name is Stella Carizelle, madam. I can
embroider you a vest in the colors you desire.
I can draw the design and submit it to you for
approval.”

Y. a desperately violent effort, Olga con-
trolled her face, her manner, her voice, while
Stella spoke, although her heart seemed throb-
bing to suffocation as she heard the low,+ weet,
cultured tones that went like a sharp knife
through her—tones, the sweetness and modula-
tion of which she had heard before, and knew
only too well. ‘

‘‘T should be delighted,” she said, with just a
dash more of eagerness in her tones than was
natural to her. ‘‘I will order the garment of
you now, at your own price,” she said to the
saleslady, in her sweet, imperious way; and
then to Stella: ‘‘I would like to see the design
you propose. Could you have it to submit to
me to-morrow?”

“Tf I may be at liberty to lay aside other
work upon which I am busy,” Stella returned,
looking at the saleslady, while she, appreciating
the social position and wealth of Mrs. Osmond,
who was one of their most extravagant custom-
ers, ab once consented to Stella’s immediately
executing the order.

“ You will find me between eleven and one
to-morrow—Mr. Severn’s, — Fifth avenue,”
Olga said, in her courtly way, and then, with a
little imperious nod: ‘‘ You will be sure to
come? any unforeseen event should occur,
where could my maid find you?”

‘*T will not fail to come, madam.”

And then they separated—these two whom
Fate held in such strangely close grasp.

After making a few purchases, Olga was
driven home, experiencing a sensation of wild
excitement that in all her life had never been
hers before.

“To think—only to think that she should be
thrown into my path so strangely, so fatefully.
It is fate, if ever there was an example of it! I
must see Welsh at once, and he will counsel me
how to get her safely out of my way; and now
I have seen her—how marvelously lovely she is
}——I am so afraid, so jealous, that if Welsh did
not help me I’d attempt it myself!”

It had not been upon the impulse of the mo-
ment that Olga had arranged to have Stella call
at her house the next day. She had remem-
bered, in the instant of thought, that Roy
Claremont and Clifford Knight were to accom-
pany Mr. Severn to one of his farms on a tour
of inspection, and that in all probability Sibyl
who had a day or so before taken up her resi-
dence in the house—would be out, or if at home,
her presence could make no difference.

Stella went back to her room and at once
busied herself in sketching the design for the
artistic work on the white velvet vest, and she
worked steadily and interestedly until the early
dusk obliged her to desist, and, laying aside her
tissue-paper and pencil, she went to the win-
dow, and stood looking down into the busy
streets where people were hastening along in
the cold dusk,

 

A strange sense of homesickness and heart-

agitation quivered over her as she looked at the.

 

sickness crept over her as she stood there, with
her lovely little head droo; her Ss

clasped: together and hanging istlessly down at.

arm’s-length, and the tears gathered one by one

in her piteous blue eyes.
“*T wonder if in all this t busy city there
0 one to come home

is any one so lonely as I?

to me when the day is done—no happy, inno-
cent pleasures to anticipate, no prospect in life
but to go on as 1am going—alone, unloved! It
is so hard, so hard,” and the tears dropped
faster and thicker, and a rebellious gloom was
in her blue eyes.. “I have done nothing to de-
serve such a lonesome, loveless life—oh, will it,
must it always be the same? Why was I born,
why has all this misery been sent to me?”

It was not often she thus allowed herself such
abandon of thought, but to-night, asif the dark
shadow of the future was pressing relentlessly
on her heart, she found it more than she could
endure to repress her thoughts.

Elsbeth, coming in the room to set the table,
seemed to dissipate her reverie.

“It is late, Miss Stella, but I have been mak-
ing you some waffles on the landlady’s kitchen
stove, so the smoke wouldn’t annoy you. We
have coffee for supper to-night and some de-
licious broiled chicken. Are you ready, Miss
Stella?”

A throb of regret that she had thought her-
self so lonely and uncared for, made Stella’s
face suddenly light up.

“You are always so thoughtful, Elsbeth.
We have so much to be thankful for. What is
that?’ she added, as she took ape newspaper
from the table, the coke addressed to her-
self, and stamped with the city post-mark.

‘The landlady handed it to me—the letter-
man gave it to her when he passed, an hour or
soago. It must contain some special news of
interest to you. I wonder if Mr. Knight sent
it, as he did the magazine?”

Stella tore off the wrapping, to see a copy of
the Sun of the day before—Sunday—which she
unfolded and carefully examined, to find in the
column headed ‘“‘ ve Is sents On a So-
CIETY,” a para inclosed in r entheses,
and the ‘mitiale R. C.” at the naar it—Roy
Claremont’s initials in the bold handsome style
of handwriting she had seen once or twice and
would never forget while she lived.

A little, breathless emotion seized her at sight
ofjthe penciled letters,

‘The paper is from Mr. Claremont,” she re-
marked, with forced quietness, the first time in
so long that his name had passed her lips, and
the very sound of it made her heart. thrill with-
in her.

credulously.
live?”

“T presume Mr. Knight has told him,” Stella
answered, still with that strange hush in her
— and then she read the few lines, asjfol-
OWS: ‘

“One of the most delightful announcements we
have been called upon to make in this season’s
chronicle of fashionable events is that of a marria;
shortly to come off in high social circles. We refer
to the marriage of Mr. Roy Claremont, one of our
bachelor millionaires, and a most popular \ society
gentleman, and Mrs. Olga Osmond, well known as
perhaps the most beautiful, as she is one of the
te accomplished and elegant ladies in New

ork,

There were other announcements of a similar
nature, but this was the only one of interest to
Stella. For a moment she stared at it, the
letters seeming to dance and whirl madly before
her, while a sensation of mad bitter jealousy,
desperate anguish, and resolute increduli
flamed over her, Then she sat down, her eyes
resting on those two penciled letters, trying to
think, She had believed she was gaining
— in her awful struggle with herself; she

ad thought she was prepared to hear of the
er between Roy Claremont and Mrs.
Osmond; she had assured herself over and over
that hope was dead within her, that she expected
nothing, that she was resigned, in a certain
measure, to simply know that Roy Claremont
had loved her, if only for a little while.

But she realized now how falsely she had
reasoned, how awfully she had deceived herself.
She knew now, she had, under and back of all,
hoped. And she knew now, that the final blow
i fallen, and—his own hand had sent her the

at.

With a little ee gasp for her breath
Stella went staggeringly into her bedroom, and
fell faint and writhing on the bed. :

“There is nothing else—nothing more for me
now! What shall I do? Oh, my God, what
will become of me? I cannot, cannot endure
it!

And, while she suffered and wrestled with he
hopeless despair, Mr. Clifford Knight was won
dering if she had yet received the Sun he had
tbat morning sent, in which he had caused to be
published the notice, which, cruelly false as his
own wicked self, he had marked‘with Roy Clare-
mont’s initials, closely imitating Claremont’s
style of writing, and which was meant to a’
pear as if coming from him, and to dissi to
any lingering hope there might be in Stella
Carizelle’s mind.

And it had done its work, only too well!

‘“How does he know where you

 

her.
“From Mr. Claremont?” Elsbeth said, in- '

 

j
;
|

 
 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

17

 

 

CHAPTER XIX.
AN HOUR OF DESTINY.

ARRIVED at home, if was Olga Osmond’s first
business to oe if Mr. Welsh ‘was in, and
upon learning that he was not, she went directly
to her room, where with every moment her ex-
citement and agitation increased.

It seemed almost incredible to her that she
was on the very verge of success.’ She could
not realize that she had met Stella Carizelle
face to face, and as she paced the floor, in mo-
mentarily deepening excitement, her dark eyes
grew darker and shinier, her cheeks more hotly
flushed, and around her tightly -compressed
mouth came a line full of cruel, merciless mean-
ing that well matched the sinister delightin her

@

eyes, .

It seemed incredible to her that her hour of
triumph had indeed come, that she might revel
in the joy that the strangely fateful discovery
had brought her.

For an hour or so she controlled ‘her impa-
tience fairly well, pacing up and down the
room, flinging herself in a chair, or gazing
eagerly out of the window, watching for
Welsh’s return. After a while, however, she
grew unendurably anxious and restless.

“‘] wonder why Welsh does not come? * Why
doesn’t he come to consult about this important

‘matter with me?” she a feverishly, as,

nearly two hours having’ passed, she rung for a
servant to inquire if Mr. Welsh had returned.

“There is so much to arrange, so much to de-
cide upon to be done immediately. What will
he say? What are we to do?” r

The servant brought back the message to her,
as at fever heat she was walking up and down
the room, busy with her thoughts—that Mr.
Welsh had that moment returned and would at
once await Mrs. Osmond in the drawing-room.

Without a second’s delay, Olga descended to
the drawing-room, her silk skirt trailing rus-
tlingly after her, her whole manner that of
strong, suppressed excitement, her eyes glitter-
ing, and full of evil fire. ‘

t. Welsh, standing in his favorite attitude
beside the mantle, looked admiringly at her as
she swept impetuously into the room.

‘‘ What seems to be the trouble, Olga? Par-
ker says you have been waiting some time for

She walked up to him, so near that her hot,
hurried breath fanned his face.

“‘Jerome!. What do you say when I’tell you
she’s found? She’s found! .I met her to-day
face to faec!”

He frowned in a bewildered sort of way at her.

** Wound! Who's found? “You met her. face
to face—what are you talking about, Olga?”

‘What am I talking about? The girl for
whom you searched in vain in the Thousand
Islands! The girl whose life and liberty mean
ruin and despair for me!” she said, in a fierce,
husky whisper.

“Olga! ‘You don’t mean—”

‘Yes, I do mean her;” she interrupted, im-

tuously. ‘‘This afternoon, ‘scarcely three

ours ago, I mether, face to face, while I was
shopping. I spoke with her, I heard her name,
and, Jerome, to-morrow she is coming here!
Only think—here, to this house, to see me!”

Welsh’s florid face had paled a trifle.

“Stella Carizelle?” he exclaimed, stupefied
and amazed almost beyond belief. :

‘Stella Carizelle! She is employed on fancy
work for one of the Broadway houses, and to-
day she happened in while I was lamenting the
want of vaeed ae tewk style of work. The
saleslady called her to me, and she is to em-
broider me the garment to order. To-morrow
she comes for explicit. directions. Stella Cari-
zelle—that is she. She gave the name, Cari-
zelle, herself.”

‘ But it may not be she.”

“Tt is she! The name is a strange, uncom-
mon one, and a similarity not apt: to oceur.
Besides, Jerome, her appearance, her manner
and—her voice! It was ‘hers’ over again.
Oh, there is not the shadow of a doubt.”

He stood silent and thoughtful several sec-
onds..
‘The first thing for you to do is to calm your

excitement, Olga, and when the girl comes learn |

all you can and betray nothing.’

‘*T know all that. But what shall we do with
her? She must not be left at liberty—it will
kill me with the continual terror I shall be in,
I dare not risk her discovery by Roy Clare-
mont, or Mr. Severn. Whatever is done, she
must somehow be got rid of.” ;

Mrs. Osmond’s voice sunk to a fierce whisper.

“‘T understand,” Welsh returned, coolly.
“ She is in your way, therefore in mine. What-
ever you do, I will share with you, or, in other
words, we will together remove the obstacle
that menaces us—your safety, my possession of
you. She must be removed from our path, re-
morselessly as an insect is brushed aside. Is
that it?” :

Olga shuddered at his deliberate coolness.

‘She must be removed, but there is to. be no
crime! Understand, Welsh—there must be no
sin committed—1 could not endure that.”

‘*No? Since when, Olga? Well, if you wish
it so, we will do what we can—without resort-
ing to violence. But—the time was'when you

-fear, and a guilty terror struck icily home to
ri,

 

did not feel so morbid on the subject.. And now
—give me a few hours to arrange my plans be-
fore she comes here. I will see you again-on
the subject.”

By the most resolute will, Olga maintained
her usual self- ion and. ease during the
evening, but it was a relief unspeakable when |
the hour ‘came for retiring to her own room
where no eye was'upon her,

The night was almost sleepless to her, and the
most venturesome dose of chloral ber maid
mixed was powerless to lull the intense excite-
ment she felt; yet, when morning came, she
was in her place at the breakfast-table; and
neither Mr. Severn or. Mrs. Knight or her hus-
band detected: what Jerome Welsh saw in her
suppressed manner.

irectly after breakfast Welsh found the op- |
portunity he was watching for, and met Mrs.
Osmond alone for a few minutes in the library,
where in a quiet, deliberate way he placed be-
fore her the result of his night’s scheming.

‘Are you satisfied with my way out of the
difficulty?” he asked, when he had told her all.

“Tam satisfied,” she said. ‘‘I will do just as
you say when she comes. I will have her
shown to my boudoir, and, after she has been
with me a while I want you to come into the
room on some pretext or other, sothat you may
see her for yourself.”

“Then we. understand each other ai
And, Olga, just as soon as thé girl is safely
disposed of, you will marry me. It will not
hasten our marriage very much, but even a
short curtailment of the time of waiting is a de-
oe reality to me, You promise me that,

ga? ;

“Yes,” she returned, with feverish energy,
“]T will marry you then.” :

Afterward, according to Olga’s information,
Mr. Severn and Clifford Knight drove to Clare-
mont’s hotel, when Claremont joined them, and
the party left the city for the day, thus leaving
the coast clear for the visit of Stella Carizelle.

The hours between Olga’s interview with
Jerome Welsh and the moment when her maid
announced that. a young girl had inquired for
the coe of the house, and had given her name
as. Stella Carizelle; were hours of tormenting
doubt and fear, that culminated in almost a
panic for one little moment when the servant
was sent to escort the young girl to her.

Olga’s heart was beating wildly, and her dark,
handsome face was full of suppressed excite-
ment as she waited those few seconds, her
back toward the door by which ‘Stella »would
enter.

And then, she turned slowly, languidly
around as Stella gers - oe and a
sight of the young girl, so lovely, so graceful,
so perfectly self*possessed, was like a dagger
through her.

She looked at her in amazement and jealous

 

her—this girl, like a young duchess, with her
proud, splendid head, her eyes like azure stars,
her unconscious royalty of manner, her sweet,
girlish dignity; seemed to her to be a self-
avenger come to search out and demand her
own rights, instead: of the humble, obscure
one glad of a wealthy patron’s smile!

- For that one minute when Olga’s dark eyes
took in all Stella’s rare loveliness, she realized
how utterly hopeless it would be for any woman
to attempt to win Roy Claremont from such a
sweetheart. She. understood fully now~ one
woman can perfectly and oe eee have an
unconquerable. desire to mutilate all the fair
beauty in a rival’s face. Stella’s low, sweet
voice broke the’ silence,

‘You ‘desired me to come, madam, I have
brought you asample of the work lam to do
for you. Will you look at it?”. ‘

at exquisite contralto voice! It. stirred
Olga Osniond’s wicked soul to its very lowest
deeps.

“Yes. I will attend toitina moment. You
find me not feeling well this morning, Mi
Carizelle. Will you be seated?”

Stella took the seat indicated, conscious of a
vague singularity in Olga’s manner, as well as
of a peculiar impression given her by the
haughty, handsome woman, She had no time
to analyze her strange swift sensations, how-
ever, for Mrs. Osmond, her perfect self- s-
sion regained, had taken a chair near Stella.

“I am delighted with the specimen, Miss
Carizelle,” she said, intently examining the
sketch Stella had brought. ‘You learned to be
such an artist abroad, surely—in Paris, I dare

say.” :

hy have never been abroad, madam,” Stella
returned, gravely. ‘‘My adopted mother was
an expert in the art and taught it.to me. as an
accomplishment. I am very glad if my work
pleases you. I would like to fill a number of
orders for you.”

“Then you are an orphan, Miss Carizelle?
Pardon me, but you spoke of your. foster-
mother, and in the past tense. Is she, too, de-
ceased?”

‘“*T have no parents,” she said, her face grow-
ing slightly paler and graver; and a tinge of
go reserve coming in her tones, for she
was full of wonder in consequence of the inter-

 

est Mrs. Osmond took in her personal history. |

“Your name, as well as your workmanship,
created the impression that you were of French
nationality. ind your parents are dead! Why,
child, I sympathize with you.”

“Thank you,” Stella said, simply. ‘Mr.
Leigh and his wife were very good to” me; al-
though they were not my own kindred.”

A brief little satisfaction made Olga’s lips
curve in a sinister smile. She had satisfied her-
self of the young gir!’s identity, and she grace-
fully changed the subject of conversation.

“‘ About the embroidery you are to do for me, |
Miss Carizelle: I am delighted to findsuch a’
person as yourself, and I would like to engage
your exclusive services for several weeks. /
may as well be frank with you, and tell you
that it is we my wedding outfit I shall em-
ploy you. Il expect to be married shortly.”

Stella bowed, a sharp pain darting duGogh
her heart as the thought rushed over her that
it never would be her. great happiness to an-
nounce thus proudly her own marriage, and as
the thought of that marriage notice in the pa-
per recurred to her, her lips quivered in spite
of herself.

“JT dare say if you hear any reports from
fashionable society or if you read the — in
the newspapers you may have heard of my ap-
proaching marriage—to Mr. Roy Claremont,
nephew of Mr. Severn. Iam Mrs. Osmond.”

f. the whole created universe had suddenly
been wrecked upon her head, Stella could not
have been more awfully startled. She grew
deathly white to her very lips, and a look of
frozen horror was in her blue eyes as she listened,
breathless, bewildered, to Olga’s words. Then,
she remembered herself, and, by a fierce, des-
perate effort, et a comparative self-pos-
session, while Olga bent over the specimen in
her lap to conceal the smile of cruel exultation
on her mouth.

“She loves him—of that there can be no
doubt. . I have learned that most. conclusively,
and Roy Claremont would never give her up
for me—no man would! Iam more than ever
resolved to get her out of my way!”

The moment of her bending her head in such
intense, exultant thought, served to permit
Stella so regain still more of her self-control,
and when Olga renewed the conversation, she
— only the sweet, pale, grave face as at

t.

5

“T desire everything to be of the handsomest
and most unique, and I am willing to pay most
liberally for it, and as if will not only demand
all your time, but your most careful thought
and inventive genius, I would suggest that you ;
prosecute your work at my winter residence—a
quiet pleasant — im the country where you
will be delightfully and comfortably situated.
My servants are in charge, and everything
would be done to conduce to your comfort the
few weeks you would be there,”

Stella looked the surprise she felt at the nov-
elty of the order.

“JT do not think I could accept your offer,
Mrs. Osmond,” she said, after a moment’s hesi-
tation. ‘I can accomplish it just as well at
home, and: besides, I have with me an old ser-
vant from whom I would not wish to be sep-
arated.”

‘*There would be no need whatever of a sep-
aration, Miss Carizelle. Your servant could ac-
company you, and, I really am yery anxious
that my trousseau—such as you will have in
hand—be kept in studied privacy. If —_ will
consent, I will pay you twenty-five dollars a
week while you are at ‘Bonamy.’”

Stella ‘hesitated before she replied. It was a
magnificent offer, and when the work was com-
pleted there would be a nice sum to place to her
credit on her little bank-book. There would be
no living expenses for the remainder of the
winter, which would also be money saved, and
there would be the feeling of free, glad delight
at breathing the sweet, pure country air which
she so sadly missed. ‘

But to work for Roy Claremont’s betrothed
wife! To be employed and paid money by the
woman who was to marry the man she herself
loved and always would love all her life, with
all her heart, althougi she would never see him
again! All her passionate young soul thrilled
with jealous pain at the thought. ;

As she sat there, looking at both sides of the
question, Olga watched her as a cat watches a
mouse, seeing the pitiful oa going on in
the tortured young soul, and relentlessly await-
ing its conclusion.

“T have not told’ you that‘ Bonamy’ is far up
among the Catskills, a most charming and ro-
mantic place. Of ccurse you will be virtual
mistress of the place during your stay. Can
you consent to undertake my commission?”

“‘T cannot give you a definite answer at pres-
ent,” Stella —— rising to go. ‘I will con-
sider it, and let you know to-morrow, if you
will kindly give me until then.”

A look of chagrin deepened in Olga’s eyes,
just as, in apparent carelessness, Jerome Welsh
sauntered into the room.

“I beg your pardon,” he said, to Olga, while
he fixed his eyes on Stella with a keen scrutiny
that, while it was perfectly respectful, brought
the red color to her face.

“Jam onacommission from Sibyl,” he ex-
 

- about it—and, of course, because

 

48

IN. MORTAL. PERIL.

 

 

 

lained. ‘*She requests the loan of your ‘Quo-

tions,’ Mars. Osmond.”

' And coneluded to come for it herself,” a gay
voice said, at the door, and Mrs. Knight en-
tered and staring in surprise and amazement at
the-splendid beauty and rare loveliness of the
young stranger.

“T would not have followed you, Mr. Welsh,”
Sibylsaid, afterrecovering from her momentary
surprise, *‘but uncle Severn has unexpectedly
returned, and desires. it. Oh, he has followed
my example in following you, Mr. Welsh, He
has come for it himself.’

And, as she laughed and left the room, Mr.
Severn entered it,

CHAPTER XX.
A POINT GAINED.

THE marriage of Miss Vincent, the heiress of
Vincent Place, to Mr: Clifford Knight, was, of
course, duly announced and discussed in the ex-
elusive, fashionable circles in which the young

ple moved. A round of entertainments was
inaugurated upon their return from their honey-
moon at their country-seat, and Mr. Severn
gave a grand ballin honor of the event, and the
wi

life of the newly-married pair started |

off in great apparent auspiciousness—so far as |

the world, or any one but themselves knew.
Already, they had both manifested their en-
tire absence of acraving for each other’s so-
ciety, and spent little of their time alone to-
gether. Sibyl, in her supreme selfishness and
greéd, was absorbed in her efforts to extract the
greatest possible amount of amusement, pleas-
ure and profit from the possession of her in-
come before it should be taken from her, and
she spent: appalling: sums of money that, how-

-ever, she took care no one but Mr. Rivers should

know. 4

Her secret—that the rightful owner of Vincent
Place was soon to return to his own, was sacredly
guarded by, both herself and her uncle, so that
of course Clifford Knight had not the remotest
idea of the treachery that had been used. in se-
curing him. He believed himself owner and
master of Vincent Place, and conducted him-
self as such, discussed improvements and altera-
tions and additions to what already seemed per-
fection, interviewed Mr. Riversas to itsrevenue
the possibilities of its being increased, and in all
possible ways showed that he regarded Sibyl’s

- possessions as his own.

‘What a discovery it will be for him when
he learns the truth of ‘it all,” Mr. Rivers said to
Sibvloneday. ‘But, raveas he will, he can’t
undo the marriage, and deprive you of your
position in the family —and _— Sibyl, there is
much to be accomplished before you are. abso-
lutely secure. Mr. Severn must formally ac-
cept Knight as his heir. He must be induced
to make his will in his favor, orvelse, if he should
die suddenly, your chances would be ruined,
and Mrs. Osmond and Claremont would come
M gibyl had sab buttoning:-her 1 leg

ibyl had sat buttoning: her long, pale-gra
kid gloves; as Mr.. Rivers spoke, while abe
waited for the carriage.

“‘ He has promised to make Clifford his heir,”
she said, ‘‘and I think he is a man to keep. his
word.”

‘(That is all very wellso far as it goes, but I
have called this afternoon expressly to see you
wanted to
see = It’s dreadfully dull without you at
the house, Sibyl. I am almost tempted to sub-
let it, and take rooms at the Fifth Avenue.”

‘* There’s no-need of doing. that,” Sibyl said,
carelessly.‘ You can keep bachelor hall this
winter well enough, anes I dare say you
are lonely. It is delightful here,” she added,
with a complacent glance around, which he fol-
lowed with approving eyes.

‘‘T should think so., Yow are accommodated
like a princess: And how does Mr. Severn like

ou? !

‘To judge by his generosity, he ‘is very fond
of me. He seems to think nothing is too good
for me, and treats me with the greatest kind-
ness and consideration, and does not diserimi-
nate in the slightest degree between me and
Mrs. Osmond.” ,

“And what of Mrs: Osmond? You get on
with her?”

Sibyl: shrugged her plump shoulders sug-
gestively:

‘“We geton. She’s no fool, and neither am
I, and we are the most affectionate friends im-
aginable.”

Mr. Rivers: laughed lightly at her compre
hensive answer; then; a gravity spread slowly

over his face, and he glanced toward the door |

to make sure it was securely closed.

“ About this will business. I am anxious to
havexit done, and soon, I know Severn better
than you'ever can, and I don’t believe a man
lives who. detests falsehood and deceit and
trickery more than he does. If once he discov-
eredwhat has’ been done—that you. knew you
had no right to Vincent Place when you mar-
ried, that you secured your husband toestablish
yourself ina home, I am positive that he would

send you adrift in his righteous rage and dis-
pleasure. He must make his will, Sibyl, and it
4s you who must persuade him tordo it.”

 

 

His earnest, eagerly-whispered words made
her stare in unfeigned astonishment.

“Tmaust persuade him! What an idea!, Why
—such a suggestion from me would be the hight
of suspicious presumption. He would not listen
to me,”

Mr. Rivers frowned thoughtfully, then nod-
ded briskly.

£4 apes reflection, I think. you may be right.
It had occurred to me that, in being near him,
hanging upon him, flattering him, making him
love you as his) own, there would occur op-
portunities you might. cunningly use. But—

erhaps it would be better if 1 should speak to

im. He can impute no personal motives to me
and it will appear only just that I should guard
your interests. I will see him at.once; and use
all my influence upon him.”

Sibyl arose and crossed to the window, and
looked impatiently down at the carriage just
driving up to the door.

‘*T don’t suppose you will care to accompany
me on my shopping tour,” she said, coolly.

‘The servant announced the carriage and
Sibyl nodded carelessly to Mr. Rivers at the
grand entrance and drove off, while he went at
once: to the library where Mr. Severn greeted
him pleasantly, and, pushing aside his papers,
invited him to adjourn to the smoking-room for
a quiet cigar,

t was the very opportunity that Mr, Rivers
wished, and he accepted the invitation with
well-concealetl satisfaction. i

“ET mast’. expected to find you,” he said, as

0

they went to the smoking-room.
“Thave just come in, Walk in—sit down,
Rivers.”

Mr. Severn motioned his guest to a luxurious,
low, leather divan and himself sunk into a wide
easy-chair beside the ,center-table, on which
stood.a square bronze and. gilt coffer which he
unlocked, and from which he selected a cigar,
and: then pushed toward Rivers, who followed
his example, 43 4

Near at hand wasan exquisite little statuette
of a flower girl offering her basket, which was
filled, with parlor matches, from which both
gentlemen’ helped themselves, and for a few
minutes after the smoke of their dainty-flavored
cigars floated over their heads—there was a lux-
urious quiet between them cunies which Mr.
Rivers looked thoughtfully about him, and ar-
ranging in his mind how he should introduce

the subject upon which he was anxiously inter-
mask

ested, and which he almost dreaded, now that
the moment had come, yet knowing he would
never have a better chance. ;

“T had a little visit with Sibyl before she
went out for her drive,” he observed, presently.
“She is looking very well, and seems to feel
very much at home here, 1 prophesy for her a

and success in society, for she is, to my think-
ing, one of those handsome women whom’men
admire.”

‘“‘She is very handsome,” Mr. Severn re-
joined. ‘‘ And I am glad to know she feels, at

dme with us.” § Blin

“You will learn to know her many good
ee as you see more and more of her, Mr.

evern. Despite her popularity abroad, and
her many social duties, Sibylisat heart one of
the most loving, gentle women Lever knew. In
the domestic circle, in the nursery, at the sick
bed, is where. her real.worth will shine most
brightly. And she is so truly. attached to you,
sir. I know from little unconscious words she
has let drop, that she loves you as though, you
were her father.” ‘

Mr. Severn’s handsome face flushed with un-
concealed pleasure.

“Is that so? That gives me: real. delight,
Rivers,”*he said, quickly, in’a gratified tone.
‘‘T- am, glad she has given me the affection
her father would have possessed, and I-can
assure you I return it equally. Her presence
here is very pleasant to me, and, when Olga
marries and leaves me—as is only natural she
should sooner or later—TI shall not be the lonely
old man I had anticipated,”

Mr. Rivers looked interestedly at him.

‘“Y ou ought not to bp a ‘lonely old man,’ Mr,
Severn, .You,are only just slightly past man-
hood’s prime—indeed, to my thinking, men are
at-their very best at your time.,of life. .Have
oe never thought. you would.marry again?

ome of, the MepHat marriages I ever knew
were contracted late in life.”

Mr; Severn’s face chilled somewhat.

‘TL ishall never mae ye he said, haughtily,
and another silence fell between them, that he
broke himself in,an entirely changed man-

ner. ‘ ‘

‘*No, bshall never marry again—I have never
for a moment contemplated such an act. As I
said, I am, literally, a lonely old man, inas-
much as [have no one. nearer of kin to me than
my ‘nephews and nieces. ’ My: life looks sueccess-
ful to you, I have no doubt, as well as to the
world. I have accumulated great riches. I
have acquired.a high social position. I possess
great financial influence. name isa power
in politics. I have all that Fortune can bestow
upon mortal man, and yet, Rivers—there is a
worm in the bud, a rift in the lute. Lam not
unhappy, but there are times when I would
willingly, gladly exchange all that I have in the

 

world for the clasp of my little child’s arms
around my neck, for the sound of her voice call-
ing me father. She died’seventeen years ago,
Rivers, but the wound is not healed yet.”

Rivers had listened in surprise—it was some-
thing he had never suspected—that Mr. Severn
ever permitted himself to indulge in such a
mood.

“Such longings are an honor to you, and it
seems to me are more nearly being gratified
than ever before. Siby] will be your daughter,
Mr. Severn, even as her husband will be your
son. - Already he has carried out your wishes
to the full extent of his ability by marrying the
heiress of Vincent Place, which, you remember

you not only desired but declared. your inten-

tion of making him your heir in. case, he suc-
ceeded. As he has succeeded, why not settle
upon some adequate income,.appropriate to
your heir—such an income as you would grant
your son? I imagine it would be very much
pleasanter for him than to feel he was spending
his wife’s money.”

Mr. Rivers’s quiet, commonplace, business-
like remarks drove every vestige of emotion and
sad gravity from Mr, Severn’s face, and long
before Rivers was shrougis speaking, Mr. Severn
was in his/usual cool, clear-headed self-posses-
sion again.

“Clifford already has an income that. has
supported himself handsomely. There is no
reason why he should draw upon his wife’s
resources,”

‘Very true—an income sufficiently large for
a single man even of exalted ideas. But you
must take into consideration, that in his new
pritie, as husband of the heiress of Vincent

lace, he will, have many new expenses. He
will keep his hunters, his yacht, his polo ponies
—and. one senly has no idea how such things
cost, how terribly inadequate even a liberal in-
come.is to meet them. If then, Clifford has
only his present income—say during your life
Stee ange thirty years we hope and expect,
you see how he will be cramped and straitened.

hy not then, so long as you. fully intend to
make him your heir, do so now, rather than
have him live upon his wife?» You would not
have her support his children, educate and
dress them?. You would not have her spend
her money in the thousand and one ways where
money must be spent, and which a husband
should provide.in-his household?”

Mr. Severn listened, attentively, a thoughtful
frown gathering between his eyes.:

‘What you say is just and sensible,, I had
really given no thought to it, but you have
thrown. out, suggestions I will at once follow
out. I will talk with my lawyer about it at
my earliest.convenience, although: Iwill make
no promises at present.”

A gleam of satisfaction was in, Mr, Rivers’s
eyes as he realized he had gained thus much.

‘¢ You understand that the young people have
not the remotest idea that I have ventured to
speak thus—indéed Lam sure, that Sibyl would
be offended if she imagined such an unromantic
idea entered my head as that of her idolized
husband not enjoying her income. As I,told
you, she is. warm-hearted and, generous, to.a
fault, and nothing would afford her greater
pisoeane than to Javish her wealth upon Knight.

ut, you and I have old heads on our shoulders,
and must do their common-sense thinking for
them. And, since life at best is uncertain, why
not settle the matter at once by making your
willin Knight’s favor, and thus forever place
him on his proper footing; and proyide for his
children after him? . You will pardon me, but
I consider it a subject that cannot ‘be post-
poned.”

Mr. Severn threw his cigar in the grate, and
walked several minutes up and down the room,
Rivers watching him anxiously.

“You are right, Rivers: » There is no. telling
whata day may, bring forth, I will make my
will to-morrow.”

CHAPTER XXI.
FACE TO FAOE,

A CONSTERNATION too great for, expression
followed the awfully unexpected entrance of
Mr. Severn. Olga’s face. grew livid with sud-
den pallor, and her eyes seemed to. actually
darken with horror, She clutched frantically at
the back of the chair against which she was
standing, fiercely fighting the deathly faintness
that hadseizedher. Jerome Welsh wasscarcely
less ‘horrified, and, for a second, he stood. star-
ing, pale, and momentarily panic-stricken, as
Mr. Severn advanced into the room, surveying
them both in. amazement, for their agitation
was too plain. not to be observed by the most
casual glance. ‘ ‘

‘T hope Lave not intruded,” he said, rather
stiffly, as he bowed ceremoniously to Mrs.,Os-
mond, and attributing her confusion to an en-
tirely different. cause from the true one. ‘I
am in somewhat of a hurry for a book that is
here, I think. If I had known you were so
particularly engaged I would not have disturbed
you. ; 5
Olga had made a desperate struggle for her
self-control while he was speaking.

‘*You do not at, all intrude,” she said, her
voice sounding frightened and quivering in spite

 

 

ar

 
 

<r

IN MORTAL; PERIL

19

 

 

of herself. ‘‘You are always welcome, and I
am delighted to see you.”

A caustic little smile flashed from Mr. Sev-
ern’s blue eyes.

“T should not imagine it from your looks,”
he said, dryly. ij

Just at that moment Stella, who had arisen
to withdraw, made a slight. movement that at-
tracted his attention, and, not having previously
observed, her, he looked at. her, surprised, the
surprise changing to almost.a species of fasci-
nation, as if something in the pale, spirited,
yet gravely lovely face touched his Ney heart,
oras if the tender, wistful, unconscious beseech-
ing in the beautiful blue eyes appealed to him
strongly and strangely. 6 saw her rare, fair
beauty, so glorious and striking, her queenly
grace of attitude, and, recognizing in her the
lady born and bred, and without a doubt sup-
posing her to be a visitor of Mrs. Osmond’s,
turned to Olga, and awaited an introduction.

She dared not refuse, and in the swift look of
pe poy amazement she exchanged with Welsh,
she saw that he was as entirely bewildered as
herself. ;

‘““T was just discussing a new style of orna-
mentation with this young woman, whom 1
employ to do fancy work for me,”

e looked at Stella, who looked more like a
young duchess than a sewing-girl, and, in his
grand, courtly way, inclined his handsome gray
head as though she had indeed been of royal
blood, while Stella bowed, her cheeks flushing
delicately at lis acknowledgment.

“T will let you know my decision as I agreed.
Mrs. Osmond,” she said, turning to Olga, an
the low, rich tones of her voice sent a thrill
like electricity through every nerve of Mr. Sev-

.ern’s body, and he looked earnestly and eagerly

at her. 2

‘Don’t let me intrude upon. your private
business, Olga,” he said, his grave, respectful
gaze still upon the fair young face that im-
pressed him so. strongly. ‘I will retire, and
you. may conclude your arrangements.”

“Tam quite ready to go, thank you,” Stella
answered, and, bidding her good-morning,
bowed and took her leave.

The door had scarcely closed upon her, when
Mr. Severn turned enthusiastically to Olga,

“She is the most exquisitely lovely girl I ever
saw in my life! Where did you find her, Olga?
Can it be possible she is a working-girl? ho
is she?”

Mr. Welsh had. quietly and discreetly left

. the room, having decided to follow Stella to

learn her address, leaving the two alone_to-
gether, and the very eager ignorance in Mr.
Severn’s questions lifted a great burden from

Olga.
“T yeally could not tell. you,” she said,
lightly. ‘‘Her name is Smith, and she says—

despite the name—she is of French origin. She
paints and does silk embroidery most artistic-
ally, and I have engaged her to work. several
weeks for me.”

“Tt seems incredible, incredible! That beau-
tiful, refined girla sewing-girl! She is a lady
well-bred, well-educated, and as little calculated
to.do manual labor as you are.”

Olga looked at him with a well-assumed, air
of playfulness.

“T am afraid her
you. Miss Sarah Smith—although. I. believe
she prefers to be called ‘Saidee ’—has been so
much among pee of refinement and high so-
cial position that she has acquired a very pleas-
ant veneer of self-possession and anparent good-
breeding, while her notes, her. bills, are; most
shockingly spelled and scrawled, She certainly
has her appearance in her fayor, and as cer-
tainly is a most desirable workwoman.”

Olga.spoke with, eve
lute truthfulness, and evern frowned, as
if convinced against his wish.

‘<Tf this young girl is not well born and bred,
a lady:in reduced. circumstances, then I never
again will believe the outward signs that in my
opinion have constituted sueh., TheJook.in ber
eyes, her manner; as unconscious in its haughty
grace as,a child’s might be, her very move-
ments, and her yoice—the sweetest music I ever
beard come from a woman’s mouth—all tend to
prove that she is not of vulgar ancestry.”

Olga smiled at his ardent espousal of Stella’s
cause—she was momentarily regaining her self-
possession now.

“You are an enthusiast,” she said, ‘‘ and al-
though. your theory is.very charming, yet you
must allow me to assure you you are mistaken.
Miss Smith is of humble, foreign extraction,
and has never shown the slightest shame in
frankly admitting her obscurity.and her com-
mon connections,”

‘I can well believe that of her—whoever and
whatever .she.may be. Those. pure, frank,
sweét eyes of hers tell that, although she is
proud, she is.not, yain, and although her. ac-
quirements and her appearance have raised her
above her fellows—granting for the sake of ar-
gument that you are right and I.am_wrong—
she would never scorn those less highly fa-
vored,” ¢

A faint, half-smiling sneer curled Olga’s lips.

*«- You speak as though you knew her well.”

““¥ speak as a student of physiognomy is

| away from me.

retty face has bewitched’

pppertance of abso- |
r.

 

qualified to speak. Thereis.a beautiful soul be
neath that speaking face. She has interested
me. and impressed me peculiarly, and her voice
—it thrills me yet Olga. I must know more of
her. What is her address?”

A new shiver of alarm. swept coldly over
Olga, but she tried to conceal and control it.

“That I do not know, but as she will either
be here or send during the next week, I can
readily procure her address ee wish it,” she
said, with well-pretended indifference.

Mr. Severn stood thoughtfully beside the fire,
looking down in the bed of glowing coals.

“Tf my little Viva had lived she would have
been just about the age of this young girl,” he
said, slowly, seriously. ‘‘ And there is some-
thing in her eyes, a wistful entreaty amid the
sunny frankness that somehow reminds me’of
those,baby eyesI saw so. very few times, that
were so. soon closed upon, this world.”

Olga turned away and crossed the room, her
breath coming fast. and labored, her face
strangely pallid and desperate. Mr. Severn
did not see the look, nor suspect the sudden
movement, for she handed him the volume for
which he had come.

“T had forgotten it; thanks,” he said. ‘The
young girl has driven all other thoughts out of
my mind; she set me,thinking, as indeed all
young girls of her age always do, of what I

ost—what I cannot but think, at times, I might

yet have had but for you, Olga! And to-day”
—and his. voice grew cold and menacing—‘‘ I
feel that I never can forgive you for not letting
me know how she was pining and dying so far
en I remember her bonny
beauty and baby sweetness when I kissed her
good-by, and how you sent. her home to me—
cold, emaciated in her tiny coffin, I feel that I
will never forgive you while memory lasts!”

Olga pressed her little handkerchief to her
eyes,

“You are so cruelly, cruelly unjust to me!
Day and night I nursed her, as I would have
done my own, and you blame me for what I
could not any more help than—”

“And just there is where I stop, stagger-
ingly. If I only could be sure—absolutely,

sitively sure you could not bave helped it!

ut I doubt. you. In spite of all my desire to
believe you I doubt you, for her little life was
all there was between you and an immense for-
tune.

“And you think I—/—killed her, by cruelty
and neglect while her mother lay dying! Oh,
it is too terrible, too terrible! was only a
young girl myself, I—”’

‘“‘Thatis true, so far as years were concerned,
but, do you know, Olga,
ever were a girl in single-heartedness and guile-
lessness? I can only realize that you were the
wife of as great a villain as ever lived. And
that, by my little Viva’s death, your interests
were advanced. Imay-wrong you—I pray God
I may be shown I do wrong you, but there are
times when everything rises up.in undeniable
accusation against you.”

“And I cannot, will not submit to be accused
of such an awful crime! You know I have no
one in, the world but you; you know but for
you I am homeless and friendless, and yet.
under the only roof where I can lay my head, 1
feel I am barely endured! Since your return
in October, I have lived a life of constant
misery on your account. You profess to care
somewhat for me, and yet you rehearse these
cruel scenes. I cannot, I will not endure them.
I would rather beg my bread than listen to
such heart-b ing, falsely cruel charges.”

Her passionate outburst appealed to his
generosity, and he listened gravely, already
regretting his outburst,

‘We will have.no more such scenes, Olga,
for it is only occasionally that old memories
oe relentlessly over me, only occasionally
that I remember I am:so nearly alone in the
world. Itis true I enjoy the society. of both your-
self and Sibyl Knight, but—frankly, you can
neither, fill the place in my heart that is to be
foreyer.vacant.. But I will spits you the ex-
piswicn of my feelings, and 1 tell you again,

iga, that dearly as I love your cousin ‘e-
mont, still I would like to see him marry you,
if for no other reason than to know he was _se-
cure from the machinations of the girl who has
so. infatuated him. I would like to see him
take you. and make a good woman of you, Olga.
Such a marriage Sent turn all my suspicions
of you. aside forever, for Claremont would
never marry. a woman against whom his in-
stincts warned him. I should then be entirel
alone; and, Olga, I would seek out this fair

oung girl who has pleased me so, and adopt

er.for, my daughter, and give her the oppor-
tunity to adorn the sphere for which nature has
intended her.”

Asudden panic. seized Olga, but the next mo-
ment she realized that long before any such step
could be decided, Stella Carizelle would be out
of reach, i 4

“T think you are Quixotic, and I think you
know people would talk,” she said, “‘ but—”

‘*But, fortunately, [amin the habit of con-
sulting my.own interests and not ‘people’s.’ I
have taken a great interest in this young sew-

ing-girl, and if I could brighten her life, and

cannot conceive you |”

she cheer and comfort. my old age, I. do not
think ‘ people’ who know me would dare ‘ talk.’
To change the subject, Olga. I wish to say a
word regarding your very evident embarrass-
ment when I entered the room so suddenly. I
am aware of the cause of it.”

Olga drew a long breath.

‘* Tmpossible,” she said, a flush spreading over
her face.

“T repeat I know the cause, and you must
know I disapprove most cordially of, the in-
bigs I have observed growing between you
and Welsh. He is all very well in his place,
and I have a certain respect for his judgment
and financial ability. e has heretofore main-
taizied his proper position, ‘but he is transcend-
ing it when he presumes upon your personal
friendship.”

‘‘He does not presume uponit. Ithink you
do bim injustice—”

‘Perhaps when I tell gat that_I was openly
asked a week ago, if Jerome Welsh was not
your lover, you will understand me.
such a question being put to me! I supose
people think, since you married such a villain
as Fielding Osmond for your first husband, you
are capable of almost any choice the second
time. You must put a stop to it, Olga, at once.
And now, I will take my book and leave you.”

He went out to the carriage that was wait-
ing at the door; and Jerome Welsh returned to
the room immediately, his florid face red with
indignation.

‘““Of course you heard what he said about
you,” Olga said, sheeringly.

“And he'll find that in spite of Roy Clare-
mont, himself or the devil, P’ll be your hus-
band,” he answered, angrily. ‘‘I’ll be revenged
upon him yet. You answered him well on all
points 1 think.”

Olga walked slowly up and down the room,
her dark eyes flashing.

‘Was there ever sucha complication of af-
fairs? He has taken a fancy to her at sight—it
is as if Fate itself brought them face to face!
But who could have foreseen the encounter?
Do you know I have a feeling that it is an un-
equal battle we are fighting—as if everything
was marshaled in invisible, yet powerful array
against us? I feel as though we were sneering
at Fate itself. Only think of it—securely as
everything was thought to be arranged, Roy
Claremont met her and fell in love with her.
and here Mr. Severn is fascinated by her an
wants to adopt her! Iam tempted to believe,
that after all, there is a Providence.”

CHAPTER XXII.
A STEP IN THE DARK.

It so happened that the very next day after
Mr. Severn’s pe, with Stella Carizelle, it
was convenient for him to pay a visit to his
lawyer, whom he informed of his determination
to make a new will, and gave him various
memoranda of the schedule he had himself pre-
pared, but without mentioning the name of his
intended heir; instructing Mr. Thomas to leave
the blank for filling until evening, when he
desired the document brought to him for his
signature.

At the hour designated Mr. Thomas presented
himself, and was at once shown into the library,
where Mr. Severn was waiting to receive him.

“As usual, promptly on time, Thomas,” he
said, as he shook hands. ‘‘ You find me all
ready for business, you see. I have been look-
ing over various papers and documents for an

our.

Mr. Thomas glanced at the table, strewn with
a formidable array of papers, bundles of deeds,
piles of mortgages, in the center of which an
Argand gas-lamp pret with mellow bright-
ness. _The doors of the large safe stood open,
revealing more papers, the gleam of gold coin,
and piles of bank-notes.

“You are alone, Isee, Mr. Severn, and as you
remark, in readiness for the business of the
evening,” the lawyer said, as he anuee up be-
fore the fire and stood with his hands crossed at
his back. : ; ;

““Yes, alone. My nephew, Knight, is out on
business of his own, and his young wife is en-
gaged with Mrs, Osmond entertaining callers in

e drawing-room. You remember she was a
Miss Vincent, a very handsome girl, and the
heiress of Vincent Place.”

“T remember very well. Knight did a re-
markably good thing for himself when he mar-
ried her. understand tne young people are
spending the winter with you.” . :

“Yes, and I can assure you that Mrs. Knight
is a most charming addition to our family circle.

y I have learned to regard her almost as
my daughter.”

A faint, scarcely. perceptible sound came from
the adjoining room, so faint that neither Mr.
Severn or his lawyer heard it. There was total
darkness in the room—a charming little apart-
ment that was devoted to no special purpose,
but which was used for readitig, or lounging,
or for little téte-d-tétes, as was desirable—and,
close beside the door, that was closed, there
crouched a darker shadow among the shadows
~—Sibyl Knight, deliberately watching and
waiting to know the exact issue of the interview
of such vital importance to herself.

Fancy

 

 

 
 

20

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

She had ane her plans well, from the
beginning. Mr. Rivers had notified her of the
result of his conversation with Mr. Severn, so
that when she heard him give an order at din-
ner that he would not be at home to any one
that evening, except Mr. Thomas, she sus-
pected at once for what object the lawyer was
coming. She had expected to be at home to
chance callers in the evening, but instantly
began preparations for a headache, so that,
shortly after dinner she sent word to Olga to
excuse her for the evening, and gave her maid

_ orders that she was not to be disturbed, under
any consideration.

he had waited and watched her time, and
slipped into the little room adjoining the library,
deliberately determined to hear all that was
said, to know all that transpired, and her heart
beat loud and fast as the two gentlemen began
their conversation, and she realized that her
curiosity was now to be gratified, her anxiety
set at rest.

A flush of ware pleasure rose to her cheeks
as she heard Mr, Severn’s allusion to herself.
that augured his good intentions, and she bent
her head intently to listen.

“T have brought a draft of the will,” Thomas
said, taking from his pocket a formidable-look-
ing document, tied with red tape. “I think
you will fivd it all correct, in the smallest par-
ticulars. I have followed your instructions to
the letter, and all that remains to be done is for
the name of your heir to be inserted and your
own attested neta added,”

Sibyl heard the rustling of the paper as Mr.
Thomas opened it.

“All right. Now read it tome. Be seated
here, Thomas,” Mr, Severn said, as he took his
accustomed seat ina huge revolving-chair, and
leaning back, fixed his steady, listening atten-
tion upon his solicitor. ;

Mr. Thomas reud the will, slowly, almost
monotonously, and Sibyl’s eyes glistened with
excitement_as she heard the long enumeration
of valuable properties and estates, while a feel-
ing of jealous grudging seized her as she listened
to thé legacies and annuities bequeathed’ to ser-
vants and distant relatives, so greedy was she
to possess the entire fortune for which she had
schemed.

“*T have not mentioned Claremont’s name for
any special amount, you perceive, Thomas,”
Mr. Severn said, thoughtfully, ‘‘ because he has
more than enough of his own. He’s a grand
good fellow, a splendid fellow, and if he were
poor he should be my heir.”

‘*Then, I conclude, you have not decided be-
tween your niece, Mrs. Osmond, and your
nephew, Clifford Knight.”

‘IT have decided,, Clifford Knight is to in-
herit the bulk of my property. Olga will, in all
probability, marry her cousin Roy, and will not
need anything from me. Besides, Thomas, I
am not exactly comfortable in my mind about
my niece. I cannot get clear of that thunder-
clap of suspicion you unearthed last summer.
But—about the heirship. Yes, Clifford Knight
is to be my heir.”

Thomas's face clouded, and he knit his brows
in a thoughtful frown.

“There is justice in what rey say, Mr. Sev-
ern, but people say that Knight is not a man of
irreproachable habits, that he is dissipated, and
extravagant beyond expression,”

“T can scarcely credit that, and I think I
should know. Doubtless, as all young fellows
are, more or less, Knight has been wild, but he
has sowed all his wild oats and his successful
marriage will steady him and call out all his
best nature. I do not respect and love him as I
do Claremont, but, he certainly has shown more
deference to my wishes than Roy does. He has
married to please me, while Claremont persists
in an infatuation very distasteful to us all. I
do not expect that Knight is, or will be a model
of perfection, but Ido know he tries to please
me and I believe will worthily wear the great
Neon his riches will-bestow upon him.”

ut—despite the words Mr. Severn spoke,
there was to Thomas’s shrewd intuition, the
evidence that Mr. Severn was not as perfectly
suited with his chosen heir as he would have
wished to be. It was evident, that although
Mr, Severn fully intended to abide by his deci-
sion, he was not satisfied; and, comprehending
and sympathizing fully with Mr. Severn’s un-
avowed, honest sentiments, Thomas took advan-
tage of his years of business and, in a measure,
friendly intimacy with him,

“Why make your will at all, just at present,
Mr. Severn? You are scarcely past the prime
of life. You are healthy and hearty and
good for twenty, thirty years yet. Why rnot—
pardon me for any seeming intrusiveness—why
not defer this question until you have con-
sidered it further?”

“Kindly counsel, and as disinterested as
yours is, Thomas, can never be intrusive. But,
there is no need to defer the matter. I have de-
cided, Give me the will, and I will go over it
myself, And then I will sign, after you have
filled in the blank with Clifford Knight’s name.”

For an hour or more almost cee silence
reigned in the library, broken only by the rustle
of the paper in Mr. Severn’s hands, or an occa-
sional word or two from one or the other of

 

them. Mr. Severn went slowly, carefully,
scrupulously over the document, clause

clause, weighing every word with keen careful-
ness, while Sibyl Knight, scarcely breathing,
never stirring, crouched like a beast of prey in
the darkness, waiting, with a patience that was
only equaled by her daring. ;

But at last the reading of the will was com-
pleted, and Mr. Severn expressed his entire
satisfaction, Mr. Thomas added the clause that
gave Olga Osmond a generous provision, and
tuen filled in the blank with Clifford Knight’s
name. Mr. Severn rung for his housekeeper,
his butler and the book-keeper of one of his fac-
tories, who had been in waiting, and in their
presence wrote his signature, to which their
names were appended as witnesses.

“Tam glad it is over,” Mr. Severn said, re-
lievedly, when the three witnesses had gone.
“* After all, what matters it who has my money?
I would have given half my life to have left it
to my little child, but, such happiness was not
to be for me. Knight may as well have it as
any One—no one will give a thought to me after
I am pone, and they are reveling—what non-
sense Il am talking,” he added, sharply inter-
rupting himself in the ee little complaint
his secret unrest made him utter. ‘‘I have
heard making one’s will made one morbid.
Take it away, Thomas, and keep it in your safe,
It may be years before you will be called upon
to open it.’

“TY doubt if I ever open it,” Mr. Thomas said,
cheerfully, ‘‘ You will outlive me by many
years, I think. At any rate, one never dies a
aay sooner from being ready for it.”

e shortly after bade Mr. Severn good-night,
and took his departure, while Mr. Severn busie'
himself returning his array of papers to their
respective places in pigeon-holes, drawers and

fe

safe,

With a long, ecstatic sigh of relief, Sibyl stole
softly from the place of concealment, and, as
noiselessly as a cat, crossed the floor to the door
that gave egress to the hall, and which was only
a few steps from the private corridor that led
to the more retired flight of stairs, by which she
intended to reach her room.

She opened the door silently, slowly, and
listened. From the drawing-room came sub-
dued sounds of voices in conversation, which,
with the rustle of papers, and occasional foot-
steps in the library, would effectually cover her
escape from her place of hiding. p

After vent a moment, she slowly and
ear, peered out through the door, to as-
certain if no one was insight, and—

Encountered the gaze of Mr. Thomas, whom
she fully believed had left the house’ several
minutes before, and which he had done, but had
returned for his gloves which he had left on the
hall table. He had just secured them, and in
another second would have been gone again,
when he had been rised to see a womans’
head protrude slowly, cautiously from the door
of the room adjoining the library.

He paused in the act of drawing on his gloves.
He instantly comprehended that she had been a
secret listener during his private interview with
Mr. Severn, and the suddenly frightened look
in her eyes as they returned his gaze, the swift
pallor that spread over her face, the general ex-
pression of consternation about her, only deep-
ened his belief.

He was a quiet, unassuming man, not given
to sensations, and a detesting scenes
of any sort, notwithstanding his profession, but
he instantly walked down the hall to the door
of the room where Sibyl stood, utterly discon-
certed, and trembling in her complete loss of
presence of mind. He looked past her into the
room, and saw that it was in total darkness
and then, he looked at her, his keen, scornful
a making her involuntarily shrink before

em.

She was handsomely attired in a pink cash-
mere and satin robe de chambre, and her hair
was fashionably dressed, while solitaire dia-
monds gleamed in her ears and on her fingers—
all declaring that sbe was no curious servant,
or inquisitive guest, but, a lady, and a aoe oe
the house; and, since he had distinctly seen "
Osmond as he passed the drawing-room door,
this was, then, the other lady of the house, the
wife of the heir, the heiress of Vincent Place.
Although it was a principle with Mr. Thomas
never to be betrayed into display of astonish-
ment, no matter what happened, yet, as it
flashed upon him who this eavesdropper was, he
more nearly violated his life-long habit than
ever before, as he lifted his hat and bowed.

“Have I the honor of addressing Mrs.
ar idl

“Yes, you .have,” Sibyl said, ees val-
iant effort to regain the mastery over herself.
**T left my book in this room this afternoon and
have just come to look for it, but I find the
lights are out. Whom have J the pleasure of ad-
ok sir?” :

Mr. Thomas could scarcely restrain a smile at
the exceeding transparency of her excuse. Her
face was yet pale and dismayed, and despite
her effort to Bee unconcerned, he easily de-
tected her terrified anxiety. He looked at her

in a way perfectly respectful, yet that assured
her that he perfectly comprehended the true

 

status of affairs, a look that’ thrilled her with.

secret alarm.

“T beg your pardon, Mrs. Knight, for ad-
dressing you. Iam Mr. Thomas, Mr. Severn’s
lawyer, and I have been closeted with him pri-
vately during the evening, and I did not know,
at first, but what our interview had had a se-
cret listener. Again I beg pardon. Good-even-
irra,

ith a bow, he left her, and quitted the
awe busy with the thoughts that troubled
i

m.

‘“What does it mean? Why should she be
listening? Evidently she is up to some game of
her own, and Mr. Severn ought to know. But,
what earthly need has she to play eavesdropper
at the making of a will? Sheis an heiress, she
doesn’t need Mr. Severn’s money. What does
it mean? That she is a shrewd, aaa
and dangerous woman is evident, and that she
has designs of her own I am so sure that I shall
study her at my leisure. Yes, my lady, I shall
keep my eye on you henceforth.”

hile Sibyl went up to her room, undiscov-

ered, but conscious of the suspicions she had
aroused, and her limbs tremblsd, and her eyes.
blazed with fury and desperation. :

‘* What a fool I was,” she told herself, fiercely.
“Why was I so unlucky as to arouse the scent:
of that bloodhound? He will pursue me until
he learns my secret—I know it, I feel it. Wilk
he tell Mr. Severn what he discovered? What:
shall I do? Iam terrified beyond measure, for
I may have frustrated all the plans that were
so near accomplishment? I must do something
—something to save myself from the curse
fate of this night, I must save myself from Mr.
Severn’s anger, from disgrace and poverty,
which will be my portion if his lawyer tells
him what he discovered. But what can I do?”

And she sat, thinking, thinking, thinking.

CHAPTER XXII.
DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.

WHEN Stella returned home and told Elsbeth.
of her visit to Mrs. Osmond, the faithful old
woman’s surprise was almost as great as her
own had been, and when she heard of the offer
Mrs. Osmond had made for Stella and herself
to spend several weeks at ‘‘Bonamy,” she ex-
pressed the longing she felt to once more get:
away from the streets and people that seemed

 

‘to oppress her, and eagerly urged Stella to ac-

cept the offer.

‘It will be like water to a thirsting man for
us to once more be in the country, Miss Stella.
It will be a season of prosperity in one way, be-

ond doubt, and you will save money. Mrs.

smond’s mone as good as any one else’s,,
even if she is to be Mr, Claremont’s wife. You.
will never see him out there, Miss Stella, while
every time you go out of the house here I am in
mortal fear you will meet him face to face. Do
consent to go to Bonamy,, Miss Stella.”

Stella’s blue eyes were full of indecisive, wist-
ful thought as she listened to her servant's.
strenuous persuasions.

‘* What you. say is reasonable, Elsbeth—it is:
false pride that urges me to decline the offer.
Yet I feel it will be something to spend several
weeks: in the same house where he will often
live in the future,” she said, drearily.

“And you will improve in health, too,
breathing the free, pure air cu have always:
been accustomed to. ‘You will lose those dark
circles under your eyes that I hate to see,
Miss Stella,” Hlsbeth urged, with tender re-

tfulness.

* But, if I rag te we must give up our home,
we could not afford to pay rent for it if we
were not using it. Could we give it up, Els-
beth?”

“We can give it up on a week’s notice, or for-
feit a week’s rent, you remember. I think you
had better decide to go to Bonamy, Miss Stella.
Our few ons can be stored for a mere
song, and when we return we will find a new
lod; ing much more easily than we did this, for
we know more of the ins and outs of city life:
than we did when we came.”

Stella stood ea thoughtfully out of the
window, and Elsbeth seeing the look of wistful

pain and patient loneliness in her face, thought. -

that, in case it was decided to go, she would, on
her own responsibility, tell Mr. Knight if he
called before their departure, or, if he did not,
she would leave a letter for him in the land-
lady’s hands,

e will follow us, and have a better chance
for winning Miss Stella than here,” she told
herself, just as Stella turned her face toward

er.

“We will BO, Elsbeth. I will send a letter by
this afternoon’s mail to Mrs. Osmond, accept-
ing her offer, and uesting her instructions,,
w ile you may tell the landlady of our pur-

And so it happened, that entirely of her owr
free will, all un icious of the devilish scheme
laid to entrap her, Stella prepared to walk into
the trap her enemies laid for her,

Olga showed Stella’s letter to Welsh, with her
handsome face full of an evil delight ‘that would
have made the young girl faint with terror it
she had seen it.

‘She has swallowed the bait, and everything

 

ee

 
IN MORTAL PERIL.

21

 

 

is in our own hands, now. Write her at once,
and instruct her to eonvey her servant and lug-
sage with her in a hack to the Grand Central
pot at five o’clock to-morrow afternoon,
where I will meet her and escort her to Bonamy.
She will be there, her tickets will be bought,
‘her trunks checked—but, my dear Olga, no one
-will ever see her at Bonamy. She will disap-
ear from the knowledge of the few who know
Pat as effectually as ee the sea had swal-
lowed her. She will be beyond the reach of
the keenest detective in the service, and if, by
chance, any inquiry is ever made, it will only
be to add another to the list of ‘ mysterious dis-
appearances,’ that are reported not infrequently
in the daily papers. I amimpatient for to-mor-
row, for we shall not be absolutely safe until
then. To-morrow ‘Stella Carizelle’ will be
where she can never annoy us again!”

Olga’s eyes glowed like a basilisk’s as she
looked at his exultant face, so repulsive in its
smiling evilness.

“You have not told me your arrange-
ments,” she said. ‘‘I will at once write the let-
ter of instructions to her, aud you will mail it

ourself. Then I will send a telegram to the

ousekeeper at Bonamy, announcing the girl’s
coming, which will remove all suspicion of my
knowledge of—her—never reaching there. And
then—what?”

“For you, nothing, my dear. ‘The rest I have
already partly arranged, and will complete
during the day. Suffice it, that to-morrow, at
five o'clock, Stella Carizelle goes out of your
life forever. Suffice it, you, norno one else will
ever see her again. And then, my dearest, our
marriage is to come off—despite the affection-
ate protest of Mr. Severn.”

Olga was equally divided in her mind between
exultation at his successful management of his
nefarious plan, and an uncontrollable hatred
and di for him, and as be bent forward and
brushed her lips with his mustache, it was onl
by a superhuman effort she restrained herse
from betraying her true feelings.

“ Reluctant though Iam, I must leave you,”
he said, gplantty “ Besides considerable col-
lecting to do for Mr. Severn, I have still several
details to complete before my arrangements are
perfect, and my tracks covered beyond defiance
of detection. Afterward, I will tell you what
Ihave done. Foran hour, then, when I will re-
turn for your letter and telegram, Olga, aw re-
voir.”

He bowed himself away, and Olga went up-
stairs to her private rooms to write the letter to
Stella, and to dress for her drive. |

While, at the same moment, Clifford Knight
stepped out of one of the bay-windows, before
which the satin curtains had been closely
drawn, and walked over to the smoking-room,
a look of speechless amazement and blank con-
sternation on his face.

‘““The deuce!” he said, as he walked up and
down, in an effort to actually realize the almost
incredible interview to which he had been a
forced listener. ‘‘ What can it mean, what can
be at the bottom of all this bewildering mys-
tery? Olga and Welsh sworn enemies of the
girl of whose existence I did not know they had
ever heard! Enemies so relentless that a plot
has been laid to remove her from their way! I
cannot realize it, even with the witness of my
own senses, What is the mystery? When or
gehere or how did they ever know of Stelia
Carizelle? What is the motive?”

He plunged his hands in his kets, and
-walked up and down with decreasing speed, his
dark brows frowning, his face expressive of the
greatest puzzled bewilderment.

“Of all people in the world to think Stella
should have an enemy in Olga! Can it be pos-
sible that jealousy is the cause of this strange

uzzle? Scarcely, for it seems that Jerome
elsh hasa claim on my proud cousin! Mys-
tery of mysteries!”

His brows grew more heavily contracted,
and his eyes more intense in their earnestness,’
as he paced to and fro.

“Leaving the mystery entirely out of the
‘question, I think the conspirators will find a
counter conspiracy, Luck or the devil has fa-
vored me thus far in everything I have under-
taken, and £ will undertake something in a new
line entirely. We'll see if Stella is allowed to
~walk into the trap Olga and Welsh have so
cunningly laid! see my opportunity clear
enough—the very chance for which I have been
waiting. Stella Carizelle will never reach Bo-
nam, bat--it will be I who knows where she
does Bo, and not my fair cousin and her plot-
= riend.” > ;

is eyes were scintillant with excitement,
and for fifteen or twenty minutes he kept up
his restless promenade, and then donned over-
coat, hat and gloves, and went directly to
Stella’s lodgings, where old Elsbeth received
him joyfully.

It was the first time he had ventured to call
upon her since his cruel blow through the col-
umns of the New York Sun, a paragraph which
had made >. experience a secret delight, and
Jerome Welsh a jealous bitterness, while Clare-
mont had looked grave and wondered how such
an error could occur. : mse

While Stella had been crushed by it; and

 

with prudent discretion, Knight had stayed
away while she was recovering from it. He
knew her brave, resolute nature, her strong,
noble soul so well that he was confident that,
however she might be hurt, she would not
weakly yield to her sorrow.

He had er te =i much of her since his mar-
riage. He had notin one degree conquered or
tried to control his passion for her, and had de-
liberately decided, when he had asked Sibyl
Vincent to marry him, that his marriage
should not stand in the way of his intentions
toward Stella.

He loved her as he never had loved any one
before, but it was a cruel, selfish love, that had
no qualms of conscience be gp the wrong he
contemplated. He honestly intended to make
the young girl’s life as happy as it was in his

wer to make it, and he meant that she should

ive all her life in ignorance of his wife’s exist-
ence. He was rich, and he could afford to give
the woman he loved a beautiful home in some
retired place, and he believed he could success-
fully manage his double life. .
ntil now, he had never séen his way abso-
lutely clear, but since the interview between
Olga and Welsh everything was presented to
him with the bright clearness of an electric
light, and, as Stella’s faithful old sewing-woman
admitted him, he decided that he would at once
prosecute his suit to her young mistress.

‘Tam so glad you have come, sir,” she said,
joyfully, as he shook hands cordially with her.
TE wom have written you a letter this eve-
ning to have told you that Miss Stella has be-
come acquainted with Mr. Claremont’s be-
trothed, and that Mrs. Osmond has offered her
several weeks’ fancy sewing at her country-
seat. Ihave urged Miss Stella to accept, and
she has done so, and we are waiting a letter of
instructions.”

‘* Which will reach you by the next delivery,
at eight o’clock this evening. My cousin, Mrs.
Osmond has sent me with a message to your
young, mistress. I suppose I can see her, Els-

t

**Most certainly, sir. And while I’ve the
chance, let me suggest that you visit us while
we areat Bonamy. I think it will be a great
opportunity for you to gain Miss Stella’s favor.”

lifford nodded and smiled, and went up the
stairs to Stella’s little partor, where she greeted
him inher sweet, fon way.

“You perceive I am busy packing some books
and my writing materials, Mr. Knight,” she
said, “‘ You wi rdon me if I continue? I
have been engaged by—by Mrs. Osmond to go
to her country-seat, ‘Bonamy,’ for several
weeks’ ee

Her face paled a little but she spoke her words
bravely.

“T- know all about it, Miss Stella, and I
honor you for your noble independence in ac-
cepting her offer. She has mailed you a letter
of instruction, requesting you to meet Mr. Je-
rome Welsh, Mr. Severn’s personal man of busi-
ness, at the Grand Centra depét, to-morrow at
five o’clock, with Elsbeth and your luggage.
But, directly after mailing the letter, Mr. Welsh
was telegraphed to Boston on urgent business,
and Mrs. Osmond has requested me to assume
his place, if agreeable to you. I should be
a proud to
Stella.”

His manner was grave kindliness and honesty
ra and impressed Stella just as he in-

ndeditshould.  .

“T would much rather you escorted us to
Bonamy,” she said, frankly. ‘Please tell Mrs.
Osmond I thank her for’ her thoughtful con-
sideration. Her letter will instruct me to meet
the five o’clock train?” -

“Yes, but we went over the guide together
after Welsh left, and mutually agreed that the
two-thirteen train was preferable. Mr. Welsh
had selected the later train, but I told my
cousin I was quite sure, if you could be ready,
that an early train would suit you better,
whereby you could reach your destination at a
more convenient hour.”

Stella "age her little portfolio in a corner of
her trunk.

“T would much prefer the earlier train, and
Elsbeth and I will be ready for it. Where is
Bonamy, Mr. Knight? rs. Osmond said
among the Catskills, but I would like to know
just where.”

A look of satisfaction that he instantly con-
cealed was on.his face—if Olga had not told
Stella precisely where her little mountain cot-
tage was, his own plans were so much the

easier. Bonamy was really in Rockland county, *

but there was no ring of falsehood in his an-
swer.

“Tt is quite a journey, being situated well
north mo the mountains, in Washington
county. But you will be amply repaid by the
pure air and magnificent scenery. It is not an
extensive place, but well ordered and luxurious
in alldetails. I fancy you will quite enjoy your
visit there.”

**T shall be busy all the while. I would be
contented anywhere with my work.”

He winced under her quiet, womanly reply.

“T will not detain you any longer, Miss
Stella, I have delivered my message, and I

e of any service to you, Miss-

 

will return your acceptance of Mrs. Osmond’s
corrections. And to-morrow at two o’clock I
will be in attendance at the Grand Central
depét, to escort you and Elsbeth to Bonamy.
Until then—au revoir,”

He would have given half of his fortune to
have taken her slight form in his arms and
kissed the sweet, pale face, but he told himself
to be patient—his time was coming.

And he went away, exultant, excited,

“The counter conspiracy is successful, so far!
Now to telegraph for the mountain retreat I
have in my mind, and to order it in readiness to
receive its mistress, and to instruct the agent
to christen it Bonamy for the present, and to so
direct the servants he will put in charge. And
to-morrow when Mr. Jerome Welsh goes to
meet the five o’clock train, he will find—what
he will not find!”

CHAPTER XXIV.
A REVELATION.

Tux day following the discovery by Mr.
Thomas that Mrs. Knight had been a secret lis-
tener at the interview between Mr. Severn and
himself, was a day of much perturbation to<
Sibyl. She had been unable to rest well, so
harassing were her thoughts, and the morning
had brought her no relief—the morning of the
same day that witnessed the discovery by her
husband of the mystery that lay between Stella
Carizelle and her relentless enemies.

A few minutes after Clifford Knight had fol-
lowed Jerome Welsh’s departure from the house,
Sibyl sent a note to Mr. Rivers, asking him to
call upon her as soon as he could, upon impor-
tant business, and in an hour or so Mr. Rivers
was announced, and shown at once to Mrs.
Knight’s boudoir, where he found her awaitin;
him, scarcely able to conceal her anxiety nual
the trouble that dismayed her.

She was standing beside the low mantle-piece,
her arm crv § on it, her head drooping dreari-
ly forward, as he entered the room.

‘““What a charming pose, Sibyl! Have you
sent for me to witness a private rehearsal?”

Mr. Rivers’s voice was mockingly pleasant,
but Sibyl’s anxiety was too thorough to return
the Yo She looked up, quickly.

“T did not hear you rap, uncle Mark,” she
said. ‘I thought I locked both doors.”

“You | did not do so, my dear, and
I am constrained to tell you that it is extremely
careless and inexcusable in you to leave your
doors unguarded. ‘Your jewels, your—”

Sibyl gave an impatient sigh.

“Oh, uncle Mark, spare me a lecture on pru-
oe and watchfulness, and talk of soebething
else.

Mr. Rivers sek lazily in a low, wide Turkish
chair standing pleasantly near the fire.

“JT imagined from your note you had a seri-
ously important communication to make. In
the absence of it, or until you are prepared to
speak, I will give youa bit of information. I
have received another letter from—”

His pause was most significant, and no word
could have been so distasteful to her as the
blank was. A heavy sigh escaped her, as if she
realized that all her troubles had come upon
her at once, and in her preoccupation of mind,
and Mr. Rivers’s intent watching her, neither
of them heard or heeded the light, scarcely per-
ceptible sound of footsteps coming through the
corridor, or the faint noise of the opening of the
door from the hall into Sibyl’s dressing-room
that adjoined the boudoir.

But, there had been secret steps, as silent and
secret as Clifford Knight could make them.
He had just returned from his visit to Stella
Carizelle, and had been told by the hall porter
that Mr. Rivers was calling upon Mrs. Knight,
and failing to find them in the reception-room,
or the drawing-room, the te or music-
room, had of course known that his wife was
receiving her uncle in her private apartments.
And, knowing that, instantly sprung to the
conclusion that the reason Siby! took him there
was because the nature of the interview was of
a peculiarly private character. He had several
times come suddenly upon them when they were
conversing, and remembered now, that invaria-
bly the conversation appeared to take a marked
change of course; and, with a dark, angry look
in vo eyes, he started up-stairs, silently and
swiftly.

“T understand the whole business. Between
them, they are arranging, or trying to arrange
a plan whereby I may be debarred from draw-
ing too generously on the Vincent mt Sibyl
is selfish to the very core, and she will move
heaven and earth in order to be able to have
the exclusive right to her immense income, and
if I detect that hypocritical old Rivers using
his influence against me in that matter or any
other, out he = from the management of the
property. Ill just find out for myself what
these secret interviews amount to.”

Such thoughts occurred rapidly to him as he
went up the stairs, with no more scruples
against deceitfully a possession of the
information he wanted than his wife had shown
the evening before. Utterly devoid of princi-
ple, wholly lost to the delicate sense of nicety
that is so much of the gentleman, whatever his
outward veneer, Knight silently made his way
}

an

;

‘

- investigati

. me enoug

  

2a:

 

IN MORTAL PERIL. .

 

unobserved into his wife’s dressing-room, noise-
leaky turned the key in the lock to protect him-
self from intrusion by Sibyl’s maid by way of
the hall and slesping-room, and_stealthily crept
as near the communicating door as he could.

“They are gloriously out of, their reckoning’

if they imagine they will keep the. money out
of my hands,” he pooughe, vindictively. .‘* This
very night Ishall need and will have five thou-
sand dollars for my necessary expenses in’ the
bogus Bonamy affair. But when a fellow is
forewarned as I propose to be, he. is forearmed.
I wonder what the
plan?’ ; - { 7
He was just a little surprised when the first
words: he heat were entirely foreign to the
subject. he supposed was under consideration,

“Don’t tell me anything about him or his let-_

ters,” Sibyl said, pettishly. ‘‘He has worked

h ill without haying to hear about it.

J want to tell youmy own particular trouble.

My nerves are, completely: unstrung. I have

actually trembled all day from the effects of a

baa fright. and annoyance I suffered last
night.

_ Mr. Rivers looked interested.
_ “An annoyance, Sibyl, last night? That
was the time Mr. Severn told me he would at-

tend to making his will. Has that anything to.

do with it?” ca

His voice was sharp and eager. i

‘*Tt has everything to do with it. Mr: Severn
made his will last night, and was closeted. with
his solicitor all the evening. I—that is—I went
into the little pink.anteroom just off the library
for a novel I had left there in the afternoon
and I happened to hear both Mr, Severn and
the lawyer read the will aloud. And I also
saw the houskeeper and butler and the book-
keeper from the Falcon Mills witness the signa-
ture. :

“Sibyl! You don’t mean it! You actually
ey ae i positively know the contents of the

“ Yes, I positively know.”
He looked admiringly at her, smiling slowly.

“‘ Sibyl, do you know you are a deuced smart.

woman? There’s not a cleverer woman alive
to-day. But what about, the terms of the
will?”
There was no disguising the anxiety in his
looks, his manner, his tones. : ;
“They are most satisfactory. Besides minor
legacies, some charitable bequests, and a gén-
erous income to Mrs. Osmond, the whole of the
residue is bequeathed unconditionally to Clif-
ford Knight.” ;
“And you can permit anything—any im-
aginable thing to cause you annoyance when
- you have learned youare the wife of the richest
man in America, and mistress of all the Mt.
Severn estates? I am surprised that you are
not wild with delight at the almost marvelous
perity of our schemes, at the knowledge

that your future is atdast secured beyond all |

possibility of trouble or danger.”

Sibyl’s eyes were gloomy and bitter.

“ But one thing in the world could make me
happy, and that would be to know that Mr.

Severn was dead. I wish he would die—to- |-by

‘ht. This moment, where he stands,”

‘Ah, L understand you at last. Despite the
angen have achieved, you fear that he will
not credit your protestations of unconscious—”

“J donot mean that. Imean that in all hu-
man probability Mr. Severn will not only de-
stroy the will he made by to-morrow this time,
but a me from his house,” Sibyl said; pes
voice low and full of vindictive bitterness, her
cheeks, blazing’a dull red. ‘I mean that as I
was making my escape from the. ante-room
after I thought the lawyer had left the house
I met him face to face, as I was in the act of
peering cautiously out ofthe door, He instantly
s up to me, and called me by my name,

knew aswell as I knew that I had listen-
dalibexstalyiand puxposely. Iwas alarmed,
and for a moment.
ness was on my features, for I lost.all my self-
possession: He-isakeen,shrewd man, and he
suspects I have a motive that would not bear
ion. He will tell Mr. Severn of the
ter—I know it as well as though I had

rencon
heard him say he would—and he will induce

Mr. Severn to destroy his will, and make some

one else‘his heir and drive me from_his. house.

a it again, uncle Mark—I would be the ha:
pm shy dat in the world if Mr. Severn would
ie to-night.” i

_ “Tf you are describing the condition of affairs’

accurately, I, certainly hope Mr. Severn..will
not die to-night, for then this lawyer would
suspect you of killing him.. I imagine you,are
needlessly alarmed, Sibyl. Had. the lawyer in-
tended to betray you he would have returned at
once to Mr. Severn, or, at furthest, before this
time. You haveitin your own power to fore-
stall any possible diselosure he may make.
Make a business of treating Mr. Severn to a
charming affectation of terror and grief. Tell
him youwent to get a book, and in coming

from the room was so startled at sight-of a

5 ne the hall, and you in your robe de

y to his abrupt greeting. Mr.

ourself 0;
eve you, and be angry with the

vern wi

euce they'll adopt for their ,

| know my guilty:conscious-;

>| parture to Bonamy.

that ron failed to preperly, excuse.

 

lanty et for he is the soul of gallantry and chiy-.

ry.
Sibyl’s face brightened at his ready instruc-

tions. ,
“TJ think I can’ manage jit. I will tell him

that I turned the.gas out instead of turning it

on,” she said, with a sigh of relief.

‘So you see your terrible trouble is easily
disposed of, Sibyl. From what you intimated,
I thought you and Knight had quarreled.”

She laughed lightly. ¢ -

“Oh, no, we never quarrel. Weare not fond
enough of each other. for that. Clifford treats
me well and respects Vincent. Place and what it
represents if he does not adore me, He is hand-
some, gentlemanly, and all that, and lam proud
of him—and shall be still more so when he takes
possession of the Mt. Severn property.” me
i A pau silence followed, that she broke impa-
jiently ; sar et
i Ih only it were not for.that horrid old map
coming to claim his own, uncle Mark? The dis-
agreeable secret wears on me, day by day, and
Tam in almost a. panic lest by some means or
other Mr. Severn or Clifford should suspect the
truth, should diseover I am not the heiress of
Vincent Place, that Iwas a beggar, lawfully,
when 1 was married, and that the true owner
whom we all supposed dead, will be soon here
to claim possession of his own,.”, !

Her words fell like an explosion on Clifford

Knight’s ears. .He turned. suddenly lividly
pale; he pve faint and dizzy, and an odd roar-
ing sound was in his ears.

the chair on which he sat, pasping for his
breath, like a man in a,panic of suifocation.

Sibyl not the heiress of Vincent Place! The
rightful owner coming soon to take possession
of hisown! His wife.a beggar! ,

For the second time that day he. was inca-
pable of realizing what had happened, but he
knew this—that he had been tricked, deceived,
‘froped in” by a cunning adventuress, to whom
he had been a willing, yes, eager dupe.. He
had congratulated himsélf on his own sharp
cunning in entrapping her, and now, as he be-
gan to understand that it was she who had en-
eeapnes him, his fierce rage and. fury began to

aze.”

‘But they do not know,” Mr. Rivers said,
quietly, ‘‘and they must not suspect that you
knew of the heir’s existence beforé. you met
Knight. You must appear to be the most as-
tonished of them all when the denouement
comes—you must play Aor cards of innocence
and truthfulness so well that they will believe
you incapable of a dishonorable act.”

A bitter sneer, cruel as death, curved
Knight's lips as he listened’ ‘He had obtained
somewhat of his usual mastery over himself
while Mr. Rivers was speaking. He restrained
his anger as one holds a bloodhound in leash,
with a grim, relentless hold. The fury in his
eyes died down, leaving a sullen, sinister

eam in them, and fastest of the livid rage on

is face was a.cold, set look.

He straightened up in his chair, and would
have arisen to step forth from his concealment,
but the brief little silence was disturbed again

‘*He has ordered certain changes made in the
stables at Vincent Place, He will bring with
him somé thoroughbreds and son aaa
speedy trotters. e says-he shall make. his
stables second to none in the country. He pro-
poses to keep half a dozen professional jockeys
and grooms in. addition to. the present stable
force, and he has submitted in his letter the

lans for me to at once see are carried forth.

here is no way of getting out: of doing it,
Sibyl. You must persuade Clifford to a new
frenzy in horse-flesh, and.lead him into think-
ing he has su pad the changes himself.”

And just at that juncture, Knight turned oe
knob of the communicating door, and stepp
into the presence of the ‘two conspirators, paus-
ing just within the threshold, an looked from
Siby] to Mr, Rivers, with a chilling, sneering
smile on his lips, and a hard, moeking light glit-
tering in his eyes.» ‘

CHAPTER XXV.
A WHISPER OF FATE.
Arter Clifford Knight had taken his leave of
Stella, both she and Elsbeth busied themselves
in furthering their preparations for their de-

not many, and. besides two trunks filled with
Stella’s small wardrobe, and a few choice books
and her writing and fancy work and painting
materials, there-was only Elsbeth’s portmanteau

to pack,

1
he late delivery of mail brought Mrs. Os-
mond’s letter, instructing Stella to.meet Mr.
Welsh at the five o’clock train, as Knight. had
said, and, all unsuspicious of the treachery at
work, Stellanever doubted butthat Mr. Knight's
correction had been in good faith.

The landlady had notified. of the sudden
change in her lodger’s prospects, and, while she
lamented losing Miss Carizelle, whom she en-
thusiastically believed was a pagent lady, and
the most a; ble one who ever lived in
her house, she was willing to pareber go, for it
was for Carizelle’s good, a j
one deserved a streak of luck it was she, And

'

e grasped hard on

‘heir possessions were’

if ever any’

 

when Miss. Carizelle returned, she could, she
would, make room for her.somehow.

During the evening Stella wrote a note to the
firm employing her, explaining. that she hdd
accepted a position, for several weeks which
would prevent her executing any further com-
missions for their house at present, and thank-
Tf nea for their kindness to her.

_ The next morning was occupied in- various
little tasks, and an early dinner was served, fur
the last time, in the cosey little sitting-room
that had come to seem very homelike to Stella,
and at half-past one the coach. Elsbeth had or-
dered called for them and their luggage. '

_ Stella stood at the window, pinning on her
little gray tissue vail, and watched the driver
place the trunks, one on the back, and one on the

ox seat, and toss Elsbeth’s little battered port-
manteuu. inside the coach, while .Elsbeth was
putting on her thick comfortable shawl. Both
were silent, and a curious, agitated look sud-
denly sprung into Stella’s eyes, and it seemed
to her that her heart sunk within her as, all at:
once, she realized that she was. about departing
from the only home, the 4 refuge she had in
all the world, and ina swift little. impulse. she
turned round to Elsbeth. . . .

“Tam not sure I will go after all,” she eried
out, impetuously. f ow .

“Not sure you will go! Why, Miss Stella,
what do you mean? You would not change
your mind at this, last minute? Why, what
would Mrs,.Osmond say? What would Mr.;
Knight think?” Seen

Elsbeth looked aghast at the surprising words

| from her young, mistress.

¢

‘*No, I don’t suppose I will change my mind.
—it is too late now. »I must go, of course,” she
answered, with a. sigh and a shiver, ‘ but, Els-
beth, such a horrible, deathly, sickening fear
came upon me at the moment.; It seemed as
though I was going directly. to some awful.
calamity.”

Her blue eyes were wild and frightened as.

she looked. appealingly at the old servant, and.
her face was.ashen to her very lips. _.

In spite of herself, Elsbeth was terrified at the
look on the young face, yet she sturdily re+
buked her, i ' :

“T never thought you were nervous, Miss
Stella, You drank your coffee too strong at
mas and I noticed you scarcely ate a morsel.
ol food, :

Stella shook her head wearily and picked up
her little hand sachel,

“Whatever the cause of this strange depres-
sion, I must, I will conquer it.. Only, from my ji
very soul, i wish—oh, I wish I had not con-f
sented to go to Bonamy.” ‘ + ed

She led the way from the room, stopping a
second at the door to look back at the sunny,
cheery little room where so much of anguish
had.been. suffered, overs objets in which was
associated with mémories of Roy Claremont;
and a little deathly shiver of faintness paled
her face again. .

“You are not going to be ill, Miss Stella?”
Elsbeth said, anxiously, as she saw the look on
her face, : ; »

‘“‘No,” Stella answered, resolutely, “I will
be myself now, ‘Come Elsbeth, we have no
time to spare.” ; .

She went rapidly down the stairs to the front:
door, where the landlady bade them good-by
and entered thecoach, followed by Elsbeth, and
were at once off, on their way to— Ah} if she
had but translated aright the agonizing pre-
sentiment that oppressed her! : wis
A or ro arate a halt am hour, that
was passed in almost absolute silence, b it
them to the Grand Central Dep6t, where Clif-
ford Knight was arene them with a nervous
eagerness he could hardly eonceal, but’ which
changed to exuberant exultation as he caught:
sight of them. ;

He instantly went forward, and was all re-
spectful attention.. He assisted them from the.
coach, re a aide superiniqnges the con-
veying of the baggage. to the -room
ponchaves the - me Penden na the.

runks, and escorted them to warm, comforta-.
ble seats aboard the train the moment. the gates
were opened. moka ert [jokes ‘been more
manly and delicate, nothing less presuming or os-
tentatious than his manner, and Stella was con-
scious of. a genuine, gratified satisfaction.

‘Mrs. Osmond is very kind to take so much.
trouble for us,” she said, as she ae Clifford.
Knight sat together in the car-seat, Elsbeth oc-
cupying the one directly back of them.

‘Olga never does anything by halves, She
is as generous as the sun in its shining, and
teqnahegal and considerate.” ti eh tian

Stella’s heart gave a little pitiful throb as she
thought it was not strange that Mrs. Osmond’s:
beauty and charming character had won Roy
Claremont’s love.

“She is one of the most beautiful. women I
ever saw,” she said, resolutely determined to
steel herself against her own thoughts,. ‘1
had wished to see her, but never exp to do

I heard you had met her, I confess I
was surprised. The probabi iy of ‘your know-
ing ber ina business capacity had entirely es-
caped me.” ’ :

bai
“

 

 

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_bagpage carried up, and personally

IN MORTAL PERIL.

23

 

 

“I met her very accidentally only a few days |

ago, and she was so pleased with my work that

she offered me this that Iam to do now at Bo-
ee eee Knight,”—and Stella lifted her.
ove:

fran ly eyes to his—‘‘do you think Mrs.
Osmond has any idea that Mr.—Claremont ever
knew. me?” i

Knight’s eyes were shining with exultation,
for he had discovéred from her conversation
that it had ouly been a short time that Olga had
known her, and, although he could not. yet ac-
count for it to his entire satisfaction, he firmly
believed that it was jealousy of Stella that
prompted the plot of removing her from her
own pathway.

‘‘T am very sure she never heard of any such |

thing,” he answered, promptly. ‘‘ Roy is nota
fellow to mention such a thing, and you may
be sure I have not—for your sake, Miss Stella.
And that reminds me of another thing my cousin
desired me to say to you—that if you did not
find the box of materials at Bonamy when you
arrived there, it was because of delay with the
express. You might take a day or so to look
around and become accustomed to your new
transient home.”

“T would rather get to work at once,” she

said, oo ‘“When do we arrive at Bon-
amy, Mr. Knight?’ i
“At daylight to-morrow morning. We)

change cars once, at midnight, and then go as
nearly as the railroad takes us to our destina-
ticn., Mrs. Osmond’s carriage will be. waitin
for us, and a cart for the trunks, and we wi
have to endure a rather tiresome, perilous ride
up-hill for several miles before we reach Bon-
a But you have noneryousdread of horses
and steep roads, I imagine?” ’
He smiled encouragingly.
“Not in the least, I amsorry to pu svgy toso
much trouble forme, but yet I am gla to have
such an escort, You are very kind, Mr, Knight,
and I appreciate your goodness.” aan
His face flushed with pleasure at her grave
words of commendation. ‘
‘‘I hope I may always. merit your Sper nal,
I would do anything to serve you, Miss Stella.”
As the afternoon wore on, Stella produced, a
boar which interested her for awhile, and at

ight produced a dainty little sup-.

per of cold roast. turkey and buttered biscuit,
canned pineapples, crisp pickles and marvelous
mince-pie, of which Stella, himself and Elsbeth
ate with a relish, :

‘‘T knew there was no place along the road
where a bite could be had,” he explained,.and
Stella thanked him heartily.

At nine o’clock they said’ good-night, and
only removing her hat and ue Stella Jaid
down in her berth, while Elsbeth: occupied the
one directly above her, and ao returned to
his chair in the parlor-car, and slept as best he
could, awaking in good time to assist in chang-
ing to the waiting train, aboard which, with no
stops, they dashed on until their destination was
reached; and, in the cold, pray gloom of the win-
ter morning, they found the carriage in attend-
ance, and at once started on the long, dreary
up-bill drive of three hours, arriving at the
house between nine and ten of a dull, cloudy
mre

Mr. Knight’s telegram had been obeyed, and
the house was thoroughly warmed, and the
man and wife in charge, with a couple of ser-
vants, stood waiting to receive the new-comers,
as they walked from the carriage to the piazza
of the house.

Stella looked curiously around her, almost
awe-stricken at the utter desolation and loneli-
ness of the situation of the house, that, built of

stone, stood isolated and lonely on a bold,
projecting crag from which a view sublime
eyen in its wintry wildness, stretched as far as
eye could take itin. A thick growth of scrubby
orn hid the house on one side—that near-
est the hill road, and directly back, rose peak
after peak of jagged, rock-bound hill,

The house was low and long, th

aS 16 windows

old-fashioned, and diamond-paned, the piazzas

wide and breézy, and eto Stella. shivered

with a strange, nervous dr /

in summer days Bonamy must be a paradise of

cool retreats. re cy
But now— —

face. I
“Let us goin at once. You will find it very
comfortable. Mrs, Grant, this is Miss Cari-
zelle, the young lady whom Mrs. Osmond tele-
graphed you would arrive. Show us into the
parlor, and serve breakfast immediately.”

Mrs. Grant bowed, and Stella smiled pleas-
antly, and the little party followed into the par-
lor, a large, handsomely-furnished room, where
a rousing fire blazed in the open fire-place. __

While Stella was warming herself, Mr. Knight

ve orders for one of the servants to show Els-

th Miss Carizelle’s rooms, and she had the
superin-
ed the comfort of the rooms, to which
Stella retired, to remove her wraps and refresh
herself with pperiel bath and some change in
her toilet, while waiting for breakfast. - 7

TES sponte Beet ng to Stella were large, ele-

and thorou

antly-appointe hly comfortable,
End Bisbeth expressed her unfeigned delight,

. won’t feel so Jonely after a. few days.

, She realized that

Knight saw the look of apprehension on her

 

a win will like Bonamy very much, Miss
a. - 2
“Tt is delightful inside—but—oh, how terri-
bly at we will be from all the world!”
*That’s only because it is winter time. You
We will
go. about and enjoy the wild scenery, and you

will be too busy with your work to haye time

I thought you liked

“TI do, I shall try to like it here. It is in-
deed very pleasant inside, and it is inside we are
to live.”

They went. down to a delicious breakfast of
smoking-hot buckwheat-cakes, broiled chicken,
and. coffee well.cooked and well served; after
which Mr. Knight signified his intention to at
once-return to the city. ‘

“‘T understand the box of materials Mrs. Os-

to grieve for the world.

the country, Miss S‘ella.”

mond expressed has not arrived, so that you

will have a day or so.in which to rest,” he said,
as he was bidding good-by to Stélla. ‘I hope
you will like Bonamy well enough to invite me
tosee you occasionally, Miss Stella. I shall miss
ye mR than I can tell. May I.come—when
can?” . ' 4 : he ite

He took her hand in his, and pressed it slightly,
and stopd looking down in her sweet, thought-
ful face. ; :

“You have fay earned my permission to
come to Bonamy when you please, Mr, Knight,
I thank you for your kindness to Elsbeth and
me, and Elsbeth and I do not forget our few
friends,” ivan « ' :

There was not a suspicion of meaning in her
words, and he knew it, yet he did not hesitate
in his determination to win her love.

“T am proud to be your friend—your best
friend,” he said, and she did not know the su-
perhuman restraint he held over himself, lest he
should snatch her madly in his arms and tell her
his passion for her.

e bade her farewell, and said We chee
Elsbeth, and then. sought Mr. and Mrs, Grant
in the kitchen, where alone, they were evidently
in expectation of a visit from him. :

“T shall return at once to, the city, and I wish
to repeat my instructions to you. You both
know, of course, when I telegraphed you that I
wished the lease of this place of yours, that you
occupied. in the winter alone, and opened to
summer boarders in the season, that it was for a
special object. The young lady is to be kept
here until further orders from me, and if you
carry out my instructions you shall be band-
somely paid. Sheis to have her personal liberty,
but under no consideration is she to be allowed to
leave the grounds. You will see to that, Grant.
Further, no human being is to be permitted on
the place, except those already here. Miss
Carizelle is virtually a prisoner, and will be
until L rescind my orders.’ The horses will not
return to the house, so that in case she should
attempt to escape it will be impossible. You
will remember that until further notice, you
are to speak of this house as ‘ Bonamy,’
and the Brg iy of my cousin, Mrs. Osmon
of New York city. You thoroughly compre-
hend? Your. daughters will implicitly obey
you?” : :

-Mrs. Grant smiled—a repulsive, cruel’ smile. |

She was a stout, dark woman, stolid and mer-
ciless-looking, from whom Stella had -instinct-
ively recoiled at sight. ;

“We understand, Mr. Knight. We know
you, and you know us. . It ain’t the first time
we've all been in. the same boat, nor the first
time we’ve helped you out of a scrape. What-
ever you say we'll do, and we know you'll stick
to your bargain,” aT

“Yes, that’s so,” he answered. “Yl pay you
another thousand this day month, if you’re true
to me. - If you’re not—remember I have been
in the same boat with you before, as you say,
and am aware of certain little larities
that would hardly bear repetition, “But—all
that’s past. Obey my orders, and I’ll take the
TR es Ceo :

d as the horses passed under Stella’s win-
dow, and Mr. Knight put his head out of the
carriage, and smiled, Stella was conscious of
that same horrible spasm of dread and depres-
sion, aa ee

‘Something will happen whileI am here! I
know it, as well as though it had already hap-
pened! I wish—I wish | had not come!”

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
\ _ A TEMPORARY’ TRIUMPH.

As Mr. Knight so suddenly and ‘startlingly
made his a rance in his wife’s boudoir,
Sibyl uttered a stifled shriek, and Mr, Rivers’s
face grew suddenly flushed a dark-red color,
while he started in his chair, yet maintaining a
remarkable outward composure. 2

“You came in very quietly, my dear fellow,”
he said, with a determined and almost success-
ful effort to be at ease. ;

Knight smiled snecreey : ;

“‘T came in just as I chose to do, sir. I would
advise you not to trouble yourself about my
comings or goings, as I believe I have a right
where I please in my own apartments. I

‘come in very quietly--so quietly, and so tong
ago, that for the Text fifteen minutes or so

 

have had the pleasure of listening to your con-
versation.” ; u '
A furious look was on Sibyl’s fac:

e—anger,
‘fear, astonishment, and her husband looked in?

solently from her telltale face to Mr. Rivers.

“T simply followed the illustrious example
you set me, my dear Mrs. Knight,” he went on, -
and as if until then ag had just realized that
he really had overheard their conversation, she
suddenly sat down on the chair nearest her,
nerveless and panic-stricken. —

Mr. Rivers had kept silence while the bitterly
insolent. words were being spoken, rapidly re-
viewing the situation; and now he took up his
part of the conversation. ¢

‘“€So you have heard everything? Weéll, Tam
really glad to know all need of future explana-
tions is so easily done. away with,” he said,
coolly, pleasantly. ‘“‘You have discovered our
little secret, and, indeed, I think it is as well
that you share it with us. Of course, you will
not venture to betray us to Mr. Severn; for’
your own sake as well as your wife’s. You
will, so far as my limited views permit me
to see the matter from the stand-point of com-=
mon sense, hardly care to blazon it abroad.”

' His cool, matter-of-fact manner and tones
went far toward making Sibyl recover her-as-
surance, and yet there was a Fa pret
her face quite unusual, as she looked up at her

usband, ;

“Our interests are indissolubly one, Clifford;
and if you revenge yourself upon me by tell-
ing Mr. Severn, he will revenge himsel or
you in turn. If 1 go to him and tell him ~
that instead of being the heiress of Vincent
Place, as he and the world believes, and
that therefore his cherished project of unitin,
the two vast estates has not been, and never will’
be accomplished, it will catise him to alter the ©
will already made in your favor. And as our
only hope hes in inheriting his: money, you will
not balk your own prospects for the sake of a
cheap revenge upon me.’

Her rapid, vivid words found attention, and
a sneer of half-contempt, half-admiration was
on Knight’s lips. oe

“You state your case admirably,” he® re-
torted, impudently. “I have been cheated and
entrapped and duped by a designing adventuress
and her worthy ally, a pair of conspirators
whose deep-laid schemes would do credit to the
columns of the Police Gazette—I who might
have made one of the most brilliant matches of
the day, as my uncle’s heir. You have- played

our little game well, Rivers, and your nieee ,
isan apt pupil, whom you have succeeded in:
foisting upon me. Really, lam almost in awe
of such a stupendously diabolical plan.”

““Yes? Thanks, but all the same, Knight,
nothing can alter the fact that you hays hand
the stupendous game played to our intense sat-
isfaction. Nothing can alter the fact that Sibyl
is yeu wife, acknowledged before the world,
and whom you are bound to protect. It willbe —
your policy to make the best of it, and, permit.

‘| me to remind you, Knight, that it was on con- -

dition that you married Sibyl that you were to
inkerit your uncle’s money.” z :

Knight’s face darkened:

“ And I hope he will be satisfied with the
charming result,” he returned, sardonically.
“However,” he went on, “ there is indisputa!
common sense in what you and Sibylsay. She
is my wife, whom I married in accordance with
my uncle’s wishes. - I cannot ree well go back
on her, nor my uncle uponme, J—” ~

“Certainly you cannot, nor will he,” Mr.
Rivers interrupted, quickly, SMe oat -
generous as the day, and depend upon it all the
sympathy and chivalry of his nature will come”
prandly to the fore when he learns that Sibyl

as lost her fortune. He will not change his
mind about the will—if you continue to play
the cards as well as Sibyland I have played
them. You must withhold the truth trol ih ,
until the owner of Vincent Place returns, and
in the meantime you must lose no .
of winning upon himand making yourselves in-
dispensable to him.” kis

Knight fully understood that thecourse point-
ed out was the only one to be pursued. He knew
that it would be for his interests to redouble his
zeal for the securing of his uncle’s property, and —
that he must go on in his usual way, f :
as well as he could what had happened. =~

But, for all, he did not choose to soften in his
manner, toward Sibyl or Mr. Rivers. He -
served a haughty, injured manner, although in
his heart he was decided to make the best of it,
although he told himself that, even as it hed
transpired, it was a cheap price’ for which he
had obtained the heirship of Mr. Severn’s prop-

erty. ; : a7
Sibyl was watching him closely, but his
stern, impassive face gave her no clew to his

pagan : aay
“Tf Mr. Severn should destroy the will he
igned last night—if that beastly lawyer should

urge him'to—how awful it will be for us, Clif-
ford! - Just imagine—Vincent Place gone, and
Mt, Severn closed to us, and we obliged to live
on rou personal income! What should we do?
It would drive me crazy, and it would kill you,
Clifford! At present, your uncle’s will is madé

just to suit us. It is our only hope, our salya-

'

 
  

24

 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

tion. Lwish he might die before the true heir
comes back, before he changes his will.”

She had _ be; almost disconsolately, but
when she had finished there was a furious de-
fiance in her tones, in her face, and in the bold
glance she bestowed upon the two men was a
strange, gleaming meaning. Mr. Rivers flashed
back a swift answering gaze of equal suggestive-
ness, and then both their glances were turned
upon Knight, who looked from one to the other,
half bewildered, half startled, with a strange
comprehension in his own gaze of the unspoken
meaning in theirs.

And so, for a second, the three pair of eyes
met, each questioning the other, each fully un-
derstanding the other, and each, more plainly
than words could have asked it, gathering cour-

sage from the other.

Mr. Rivers broke the silence, quietly.

“Sibyl, had you not better go down at once
to Mr. Severn, and eS your encounter with
‘his lawyer to him? in his entire belief in you
sand. your story before you leave him. And
while you are gone, I will explain to your hus-
band the details of the Vincent Place affair.”

“One moment, first,” Knight said, coolly,
‘‘T want your check, my dear, for five thou-
sand dollars, I have an investment to make in
Washington, where I am going to-morrow to
personally attend to it. We might as well got
all we can out of your supposed inheritance,
and I believe this is the first time I have pre-
ferred my privileges.”

‘¢-You shall have it with pleasure, my dear
fellow, and as much more as we dare venture
upon,” Mr. Rivers said. ‘‘I will hand you the
check at dinner, if that will do.”

“You are going to Washington, Clifford?’
Sibyl said, interestedly. ‘‘ Why may not I go,
too? I have always wanted so to see the city.”

An odd little smile was in Knight’s eyes, as he
thought how cleverly he was throwing her off
the track of his trip to the cottage in the moun-
tains.

“‘T shall only make a flying trip—go to-mor-
row and home the next night. You may go an-
other time—not now.”

She arose from her chair and slowly left the
room, on her errand to Mr. Severn.

She found him alone in his library and told
him her false story with such apparent truth-
fulness and well-feigned distress, that he im-
plicitly believed her and thought her the most
scrupulously honorable of women in thus com-
ing to him and so delicately and frankly telling
him all about the occurrence.

And not only did she succeed in impressing
him with her,own truthfulness and_ honor, but
she kindled his indignation against Thomas, for
having dared to suspect her of such awful base-
ness,, as peer listening, and completely
forestalled any story the lawyer might tell, and
entirely neutralizing any opinion he might
choose to express.

She went away, perfectly satisfied with her
success, and, five minutes later, Mr. Thomas
was shown into the library Sibyl had just left.

As he entered Mr. Severn glanced up, and
with his never-failing courtesy greeted him, but
with a reserve and lack of cordiality that was
as apparent, as unusual.

ro thought I should. catch you in at this
time of day,” Thomas said, respectfully, “I
came to see you on a matter that is as disagree-
able to me as it will prove painful to you, sir,
and only my strongest sense of duty could com-
pel me to speak to you.”

He paused, looking at the grand, handsome
face opposite him, that did not in the least in-
vite his confidence, or Jessen the unpleasantness
of ore the statement he felt it his duty to
make,

“JT cannot ae that you have anythin,
of a personal character repeat to me,

Severn said, gravely. ‘Be seated, Mr.
Thomas.”

The lawyer took a chair, and at once plunged
into the subject that troubled him so sorely.

“You will pardon me, Mr. Severn, but it is
of your niece by marriage, Mrs. Clifford Knight,
I am obliged to speak. She is not worthy Ce
esteem and honor. Distressing though it is to
me, I feel conscientiously bound to tell you
that the evening you and I were reading alou
your will, Mrs. Knight was in the ante-room
yonder listening to every word. She was there
with deliberate intent, meaning to assure her-
self of your intentions toward her husband. I
had left my gloves, and stepped quietly in to get
them, when I saw her peeping through the door,
and, fancying that it might be one of the ser-
vants, and knowing that no one had any busi-
ness in that room at that time, I went up to her.
Her face was full of terror and guilt, and she
was, for the moment, compleeeyy off her guard.
She made a feeble, bungling excuse, but, Mr.
Severn, it did not alter the undeniable fact
that she had been a listener at yonder door.
She has schemes and intentions of her own that
Tam unable to fathom—just yet. But, of this
Tam as sure as that I am alive—Mrs. Knight is
a dangerous woman!”

Mr. Severn had listened mechanically at the
beginning. It was asif he was forced to listen
toa story he already knew. But, as the lawyer
finished, his blue eyes were flashing.

 

‘Be careful what you say, Thomas! I did
not think you were a man to traduce a lady. I
happen to know all the particulars of the case,
and I know that you have not only wrongly
accused and suspected my niece, but deepl
wounded her womanly pride and delicate feel-
ings. And, Thomas, I tell you frankly, I am

so indignant with your action in the matter |

that, were it not for your past record of dis-
cretion and faithfulness, I would remove my
petronage from you. You have insulted Mrs.

ight, and through her you have offended
me. Common justice and manliness demands
an apology to her.”

Mr. Thomas’s face flushed, but he did not
manifest any further resentment.

“Mr, Severn,” he said, calmly, and in the
slow, deliberate way Mr. Severn knew'so well,
“TJ have spoken from a sense of duty, and while
I do not wish to prejudice you against Mrs.
Knight, I cannot retract a word I have said.
She is a base, designing woman, and whatever
the consequences to myself I cannot change my
conscientious opinion. Most certainly, Mr.
Severn, I shall not apologize to Mrs. Knight for
my estimate of her, and I only a of you that
you will study her closely—for if you do, the
time will come when you indorse my opinion
that she is a scheming, calculating, dangerous
woman,”

He had arisen, and so had Mr. Severn—Mr.
Severn’s face pale and stern and indignant.

“T will take my leave, sir,” Thomas said,
gravely.

‘*Yes, you may, and at your earliest con-
venience, hand mea statement of my business
status with your firm. I shall transfer my
patronage to a man who does not interfere in
my private affairs. Good-morning, sir.”

omas took his hat, and bowed, and left the
room, as calm and quiet as ever—to meet Sibyl]
in the hall, dressed in a magnificent street cos-
tume of black satin and seal-skin.

Her eyes were full of a mocking light, and a
faint sneer was on her lips as he bowed to her,
but in that one full glance he gave her, in the
swift smile that was on his lips, in the elaborate
politeness of his manner, Sibyl might have read
the warning that she had made this keen,
shrewd, far-sighted, quick-witted man her en-

Py ek dea y onemay

ut, elate with her own Se she thought
of nothing beyond, and swept haughtily past
him, and went out to the carriage standing at
the curbstone, attended by obsequious servants,
the petted child of fashion and fortune.

Thomas looked after her, a slow gleam kind-
ling in his eyes.

“That woman’s triumph will not be long-
lived! I can forgive Mr, Severn, for I respect
a man who has his own opinions; but I hope he
will find her out asTintend todo!” _

While, in his Har ery, Mr. Severn stood just
where the lawyer had left him.

“Tam afraid I have been hasty! A man has
aright to his own opinions, and I should not
have refused him the expression of them, and
that, too, after a lifetime of faithful, disinter-
ested service!”

He sighed, and ‘walked up and down for a
long while.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.

A DAY OF SURPRISES.

Promrrity on time, Mr, Welsh was at the
Grand Central Depdt, a look of triumphant self-
satisfaction on his face as he watched the door
of the waiting-room by which Stella and her
servant would a t

As the time for the departure of the train
drew very near, an anxiety began to be ap-
parent in his actions. He had already pur-
chased tickets for the little party, and then sta-
tioned himself at an outer entrance that com-
manded the approach of the carriages deposit-
ing passengers. As the minutes passed, and
there were no signs of Stella’s coming, he be-
came more and more preany and, at last, when
the whistle of the engine told him that the time
was up, and he realized that the girl had failed
him, his agitation was supreme.

Calling a coach, he gave orders to be driven
with all haste to Stella’s address, and in a short
time presented himself at the door when the
landlady of the house answered his imperative
knock, and request to see Miss Carizelle; who
lodged there.

is utter astonishment and alarm when he
learned that Miss Carizelle had given up the
rooms she had been occupying, and had gone
away, that same afternoon in a carriage, with
her luggage and accompanied by Elsbeth, were
totally indescribable. e actually staggered as
he listened to the incredible news.

““Gone away! Why, she was not to have
‘one until five o’clock, when I was to have met
er and escorted her to her destination! Can it

be possible? Gone—away? Can you tell me

where? Had she no escort?”
For a moment it had occurred to him that
erhaps, by some freak of fate, Roy. Claremont
d met Stella, and rescued her, and his face
grew lividly pale with fear at the thought. The
landlady’s answer that Miss Carizelle had been
accompanied only by her servant, somewhat re-

 

assured him, ogous the tn mys-
teriousness of the affair, the horrible, baffling
disappointment were almost unendurable.

He extracted all the information possible,
which amounted to but very little, from the
woman, and then reéntered the carriage and
was driven home.

He was full of the strongest excitement and
alarm at Stella’s departure. He instinctively
felt that there was a mystery he could not
fathom connected with it, and while he had not
shrunk from wreaking his own, and Olga Os-
mond’s vengeance upon her, he was filled with
terrified dismay lest something had happened
her—something that would effectually interfere
with his purposes regarding her.

As soon as he reached home he sought an in-
terview with Mrs. Osmond, whose fear and
fury and Or on can. were equal to his own.

“She must found—she must be found,”
she declared, hysterically, walking up and down
the room, wringing her hands with horrified
dismay. ‘‘We must never give up the search
for her, night or day! Do you think it is possi-
ble she has gone to Bonamy herself, not caring
to travel with you? You do not think Mr. Sev-
ern has seen her, or— Claremont?”

She fairly shivered with apprehension as she
looked at him eagerly.

‘*T don’t know what to think,” he said, slowly.
“She may have gone on alone to Bonamy, al-
though it seems incredible. As for the other
possibilities, I cannot think them. All we can
dois to watch and work in secret. Or, I will
put a detective on the case, immediately, if you
ony ss

er dark eyes flashed restlessly, and she bit
her lip in nervous agitation.

“T cannot think what is best to do,” she said,
pen “Tam so bewildered, so staggered,

hat I am incapable of thought. Why not tele-
graph to Bonamy to-morrow to see if the girl
went there on her own responsibility? If she
has, we can so easily manage the rest, yet.”

Mr. Welsh- at once decided to follow Olga’s
advice,

“In the mean time there is nothing to do but
to wait, Try to be patient, my dear—we will
run her to earth, yet. After a few hours’
thought, fresh lines of action will occur to us,
which we will follow out. Whatever your en-
gagements are for this evening fulfill them as
usual, let no one suspect the load you carry.”

“T was going with Clifford and Sibyl to
‘Hazel Kirke’ to-night, but now that Clifford
hasso suddenly and unexpectedly gone to Wash-
ington, of course—”

A leap of light flashed redly to his eyes.

“One moment, Olga! Has Knight gone to
Washington? What time did he go?”

Mrs. Osmond saw the strange, eager look in
his face, and, as if by inspiration, she under-
stood him.

‘* At half pastoneorso. Jerome! ‘You don’t
think—”

“YT do think that Clifford Knight has taken
Stella Carizelle to Washington with him! He
went at half past one—she left her lodgings
here about that hour.”

Their eyes met in a look that said what words
never could have said, and a look of intensest
interest crept into Olga’s suddenly flushed face.

‘What could be his motive?”

‘“He may have fallen in love with her. He
knew her as well as Claremont, you remember
—and naturally wished to remove her from his
wife’s vicinity. Or—he may have learned who
she is—and is biding his time. Olga, it seems
to me that Fate is stronger than we are.”

She drew a long-drawn breath of terror.

“Don’t talk so! We must find her, Jerome.
As you said, we must remain in idleness until
we decide which way to turn. When Clifford
returns I will make it my business to learn from
him whatever I can, If she is in Washington,
she ae be removed before he pays his secon:
visit.

The intervening hours of enforced idleness in
searching for Stella were exceedingly irksome
to Olga to endure, although they were passed in
around of gayety and arperety leasure. The
same evening that Clifford Knight was absent
from home, Mr. Claremont spent with the la-
dies, and Olga satisfied herself that he knew
nothing whatever of the condition of affairs.
He was more grave and quiet during these
weeks of his probation, and never dreamed of
the strange, pitiful romance so nearly connected
with himself, enacting almost before him.

During the evening, while other callers were
being entertained by Olga and Sibyl, Clare-
mont. quietly. left the drawing-room and went
to the library, where, as was his usual custom,
Mr. Severn spent his evenings when at home.

He welcomed Claremont gladly, and his stern
eyes mellowed and his mouth relaxed from its
firm, severe expression as Roy seated ‘himself
at the opposite side of the center-table.

“You don’t often come near me, my boy,
nowadays, and the sight of you is like spring
flowers, What do you do with yourself?”

“T find plenty to do, sir,” Roy answered,
sey ees ‘T dare say I would drop in oftener

ut that there are so pay continually around
o With my cousin Olga and Clifford and

is wife, you cannot be at all lonesome.”

 

*
Le

 
€
LAC,

a

IN MORTAL PERIL.

25

 

Mr. Severn knitted his white eyebrows re-
flectively.

“No, [am never lonesome. I would not be
if I lived alone entirely. And yet—neither Olga
nor Sibyl are to me what my own daughter
would have been, the young girl who would
have been the comfort and joy of my declining
years.”

Claremont was silent, but his face showed his
true manly sympathy.

‘Somehow I think so much more of my little
dead Viva of late than I have for years—it
must be because Sibyl reminds me of what
might have been, for she is about the age my
child would have been. And a short time ago,
Roy, only a few days ago it was, I saw a youn;

irl with just such a sweet, pure face, an

ainty, high-bred air, as it seemed to me my
daughter would have possessed—the loveliest
face Tever saw, Roy, like a pale pure flower,
and eyes like blue stars.”

A little passionate thrill shot through Clare-
mont’s heart as he thought of the loveliest face
he ever had seen, lighted by such glorious blue
eyes.
“She was only a sewing-girl, Olga said, when
I expressed my admiration for her, although I
cannot believe she is not the daughter of gene-
rations of refinement and culture. I was deep-
ly impressed by her unspeakable charm of man-
ner, and the tones of her voice went to my heart
as nothing has done for many a year.”

He leaned back in his chair, for a moment
absorbed in a swift mental contrast between
Stella Carizelle’s rare lovely beauty and that of.
Sibyl Knight and Olga.Osmond.

“You must have been impressed,” Claremont
said, interestedly. ‘‘You say the young girl
was a ar ager

‘Yes, in Olga’s employ, but I tell you, my
boy, she was never intended for any such. posi-
tion in life, and I have a strong idea that.I will
make it my business to befriend her. She is
educated and refined and would not disgrace
me. She is accomplished, for I saw a specimen
of her painting and drawing and embroidery
which she brought for Olga’sinspection. Rey,”
he broke off abruptly and changed the subject—
“Tam not as satisfied with Sibyl as I had hoped
tobe. I can give you no reason why, but I am
not thoroughly satisfied. Ilook to-you to give
me some one I may love—my boy, don’t bring
an ambitious, scheming creature to me as your
wife—give her up, and for my sake, choose else-
where.”

A thoughtful look was on Claremont’s hand-
some face,

“T am disappointed that you will not believe
what I have told you of Miss Carizelle. You
profess to be a reader of physiognomy—if I
should show you a faithful picture of the young
lady will you give me your honest, unpreju-
diced opinion of it?”

‘*T will tell you exactly what I think of the
face, Roy, but, still—”

Claremont smiled, a little sadly, and with a
proud flush in his face as he took from his pocket
a dainty velvet case, and laid it closed on the
table before Mr. Severn.

‘Tt is painted from memory, but it is a faith-
ful copy of her. Open it, sir.”

Mr. Severn took it up, with a courteous in-
difference that suddenly and sharply changed
toa look of astonishment and bewilderment,

‘Roy! Itis the young girl I have been talk-
ing about! Whatdoesit mean? This the girl
you love—why, it is Olga’s sewing-girl—the
same, the very, verysame! I would know those
sweet, grave, honest blue eyes anywhere in the
world, and the curve of that exquisite mouth,
and the pure white brow!”

‘** it is Miss Carizelle, at present living at the
Thousand Islands. I cannot think another could
resemble her so closely, sir.”

“But itis not another, 1 tell you. It is she,
herself, Miss Smith, who was in this house not

a week ago.”

He had arisen from his seat, and Roy was in-
fected with his agitation. !

“Tt certainly cannot be Miss Smith,” he re-.
peated, positively.

“And Isay itis. Call Jennyngs here—show

him the picture and ask him if it is not the
young lady who called to see Olga.”

A strange agitation possessed Mr. Severn,
and he instantly summoned the hall-porter to
the library.

“Did you ever see any one who looked like
that?’ he asked, showing him Stella’s pic-
ture.

‘Yes, sir,” the servant ee
“The young girl that came on Wednesday to
see Mrs. Osmond.”

Roy looked grave and puzzled.

“JT told you so,” Mr. Severn said, impet-
uously, turning to him.

Claremont looked at Jennyngs with that
grave, puzzled look deepening into a strange,
vague eagerness.

“Did she send ‘up her name to Mrs. Osmond,
Jennyngs?”

‘Yes, sir,” was the ready answer that ad-
mitted no doubt of its truthfulness. ‘She

ave me her name, and I’ll never forget it for
its oddness and Frenchiness, sir. Miss Carizelle,
sir, ‘

 

Roy gave an exclamation of bewildered
amazement and disbelief.

‘* Miss Carizelle! Impossible!”

“That’s the name, sir, she gave me,” Jen-
nyngs persisted, spaproiarly.

‘You may go,” Mr. Severn said to him, and
then, he turned a pale, agitated face toward
Claremont who sical. like a statue, utterly over-
whelmed by the startling revelation.

‘“‘There is some mystery. here, Roy: Ol
told me she was a Miss Smith—Jennyngs she
is Miss Carizelle. This is the face that has
haunted me ever since I saw it, the face of the
girl you love. What does it mean, Roy?”

 

CHAPTER XXVIII.
ON THE TRACK.

To say that Roy Claremont and Mr. Severn
were absolutely dumfounded by the strange
discovery so accidentally made, would be to
feebly express the intense amazement, the pain-
ful bewilderment, the distressing agitation and
vane suspicions that possessed them.

o Claremont it seemed incredible that such
a condition of affairs could exist,and yet how
could he help believing the evidence that came
so straight and eee Admitting then
that Stella had left her island home, why an
how had she come to the city, and, by what
strange freak of fate bad she been to Mr. Sev-
ern’s house? And why had Olga given her
name to Mr. Severn as Smith? hat was the
ener mystery around it all? For the re-
mainder of the evening while Olga and Sibyl
were with their callers, Mr. Claremont remain-
ed with Mr. Severn in the library, discussing
the strange affair from all possible standpoints,
both of them growing momentarily more rest-
less and anxious, Mr. Severn’s proud, high-bred
face wearing a troubled apprehension, Clare-
mont not attempting to conceal the keen dis-
may, and amazement, and anxiety that made
his face look worn and pale.

After the guests were gone, and Mrs. Knight
had retired to her rooms; Claremont sent a mes-
sage to Olga requesting her to remain a mo-
ment in the drawing-room, and for an instant
her heart sprung to her throat as she thought
perhaps he was to come to tell her his love for
her.

But a sight of his grave, troubled, stern face
instantly dissipated all such fancies, while he
noticed what he had not observed before, how
restless and nervous her dark eyes were as they
met his.

“T have requested you to give me a moment
of your time, as a matter of serious importance
to me, Olga. I wish to inquire about the young
lady whom you have taken into your employ—
Miss Carizelle.”

He asked the  Seaguetaaas question calmly
enough, apparently.

Olga started in her chair, so that the fan lying
idly across her lap fell to the floor, while Clare-
mont distinctly saw a livid pallor creep slowly
to her lips.

“ Miss—Carizelle!” she exclaimed, her very
brain seeming to seethe with fear.

“Yes,” he answered. ‘‘She was here a day
or so ago, and I am anxious to learn her ad-
dress, Perhaps you will know her better by
the name you gave my uncle—Miss Smith.”

“Oh! Miss Smith! Icould not imagine who
you meant. I really cannot give you the in-
formation you desire, as I have not her address.
She came to me for work, and I. never sent for
her, or to her. I cannot imagine what you
wish with Miss Smith, Roy.”

“T, in turn, cannot imagine why you should
have said her name was not Carizelle, Olga.
She gave that name to Jennyngs, to be an-
nounced to you.”

A sudden startled look was in her eyes.

“Tf that is so, I was not informed of it, and
the lady who—who recommended her to me
said it was Smith. She may have been mis-
taken.”

“Yes, she was very greatly mistaken if she
told you so. Give me your -friend’s address,
Olga, for she surely would not recommend any
one to your patronage not knowing her place
of residence and reliability. Your friend can
doubtless aid me.”

Give the “‘ friend’s” address! Olga grew des-

erate.

‘*T haven’t her address, either. I am not in
the habit of filing away the numbers of onary:
body’s houses, Roy,” she said, trying to hide
her alarm beneath an assumed impatience.

‘Then give me her name, and J will consult
the directory.”

He stood beside the mantle, his eyes grave
and searching. :

‘‘Her name?’ she repeated, stammeringly.
“Tt has been quite some time ago since Miss
Smith was recommended to me—really, Roy, I
cannot remember which of my lady friends it
was. Besides, I do not charge my memory

with such ridiculous trivialities as shop-wemen
and sewing-girls.”

Her extremity of desperation actually lent
her reckless courage, and as she spoke, haughti-
ly and imperiously, she arose, her cheeks flush-
ing, her eyes glittering.

“Then I am to understand, Olga, that you

feelings as these.

 

refuse to give me any information concerning
the Young lady?”

‘T have no information to give, I repeat. I
never saw her more than twice or three times.
Can I tell you what I don’t know?”

= looked steadily at her, grave and persis-

nt.

“Olga, shall I tell you what Ido know? Or,
shall I ask you if ycu know who the young lady
really is?”

‘* How should I know, or why should I care?
I know that uncle Severn took a disgracefully
violent fancy to her, and told me he would like
to adopt her or some such absurdity.”

“Tt was a marvelous fate that brought them
together, Olga.”

id he know? A horrible horror was coming
alciooninaty over her again, against which she
struggled furiously.

“Tt seems to me there is something remark-
ably romantic in the fact of a pretty-faced, in-
sipid sewing-girl coming for my work, as any
other hired servant would do.”

She looked him full in the face, and then
bowed, and bidding him. good-night, left the
room.

He remained some time alone in the drawing-
room, going over in his mind what Olga had
said, balancing her signs of fear against her as-
sertions, her assurances of ignorance against her
nee, displeasure.

“T think ay. hasty suspiciors of Olga were
not correct,” he decided, thoughtfully—‘“ that
is, the vague, painful suspicions that forced
themselves upon me and that I could scarcely
have formed into accusations. I believe that
Mr. Severn’s sudden fancy for Stella has made
Olga jealous, and fearing lest he put his ex-
pressed wish into effect, she will not further his
attempt. But I will solve this mystery. I will
find my darling—my little love, if I search
night and day.”

As he gave way to the feelings he had been
so resolutely restraining during the evening, he
began to walk up and down the room, the
sweat forced in great beads to his forehead, his
face pale and haggard, his handsome eyes
of real, terrible misgiving.

“What has taken her from herhome? What
brought her here? Why did Olga persist in
calling her Miss Smith? here is she now, my
little darling, my bright, pure pearl? Among
strangers in the city—a sewing-girl—an unsus-
picious, trusting child, come to this huge trap,
a lamb among wolves! Where can she be?
Great God! How shall [ find her?”

His face grew even paler as the torrent of
thoughts rushed over him, until, by a most des-
perate effort, he regained, partially, his self-
control.

‘‘Tt is madness for me to give the rein to such
1 need all my coolness, cour-
age, calmness, reason, in order to solve the mys-
tery about her. . 1 will brace myself to begin
my search. I will begin this very hour. Iwill
consult with Thomas, the family lawyer, and
put the case in his hands before I sleep this
night.”

e went back to the library, where Mr. Sev-
ern was slowly walking up and down, busy
with his thoughts. He looked up as Claremont
entered.

“What did you learn from Olga?” he asked,
eagerly, and Claremont told him the result of
the conversation, and his own conclusion and
determination to consult Thomas in the matter.

“There is no better man in the city than
Thomas to undertake and carry on such a com-
mission. But, Ihave dismissed him from my
employ, Roy, ina moment of indignation and
anger. I said what I will admit now might as
well have remained unsaid.”

He related the circumstances to Claremont

briefly.

“ Although Sibyl is not what I would like her
to be,” he said, ‘‘ yet I could not believe her to
be what Thomas declares she is—if she were she
should not remain under my roof another hour.
I don’t believe it, but, at the same time, Thomas
might be excused for his suspicion. I should
not have alienated him from me, even for his
pig-headedness.”’

* And we need him now, as never before. He
is shrewd, keen, secret and discreet, devoted to

our interests, and acquainted with your affairs,
Both personal and financial. It would be in
keeping with you sir, to recall him and re-
instate him, You have telephonic communica-
tion with his house and office—ring him up and
summon him. I cannot rest until something is
done.”

Mr. Severn paused in his walk for several
moments before the fire, his eyes fixed on the
glowing coal, his hands clasped behind him.

“You are right, my boy. I can afford to re-
call Thomas and tell him I was hasty. I will.”

He stepped to the telephone and sum-
moned the lawyer, who was yet at his office,
engaged in finishing some papers concerning the
Severn estate, before he handed them to his suc-
cessor, when he received the summons, and his
honest, faithful heart thrilled with pleasure as
he received the message, in Mr. Severn’s own
voice, and replied he would be with him as
quickly as a horse and coupé could carry him.

In less than half an hour he arrived, and Mr,

 
  

 

26

 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

Severn met him with a cordial grasp of the hand
that indicated the harmony of so many years
was restored. '

“Sit down,” Mr. Severn said, ‘and before
we proceed to a most serious matter of business
let me say just a word, Thomas, that while 1
must believe you were over-zealous at our last
interview, yet I regret my hastiness, and do
your motives full justice, and we will go on as
tefore. Here we drop the matter. Now, Roy,
bring up your chair, and let us to business.”

The three gentlemen entered at once upon the
subject of the interview, Thomas listening with
serious attention to both Mr. Severn and Clare-

mont, asking occasional questions, and jotting,

down items in his memorandum-book.

“You must find her, Thomas,” Mr. Severn
said, authoritatively. ‘‘ You understand that
no trouble or expense is to be spared, and that
the search must be Pee es
“Tunderstand, I will do m st. But, be-
fore I go 1 wish to ask you if Iam to under-
take this business precisély as I think best? Am
I privileged to make what inquiries in your

_own family my judgment indicates?”

“You are given carte-blanche,” Mr. Severn
said, Frompely: “You aré to come and go as
you ¥ ease—only find the girl for us.” :

‘Very well, sir,” Thomas ~ said, quietly.
“Now, for one more question, Mr. Claremont:
You say that Mr. Knight was your traveling
companion, during the summer, and that he was
also well Aakoees with the young lady?” -

Roy repeated that it was so.

-“ You had no reason to think he admired her
particularly?” : :

“T am sure he had no further admiration for
Miss Carizelle than any gentleman would neces-
sarily possess for her.’ oS

“ And—you will pardon me—Miss Carizelle
was in no way interested in him?”

Roy’s lip involuntarily curled. ,

** Miss Carizelleand I were to have been mar-

ried,” he said, quietly, .
Thomas bowed, gravely
: “J would like to see Mr. Knight, if conven-
ient,”he said. = agi ;
_ “ Heisin Washington,” Mr, Severn explained.
Wee at noon, and will return to-morrow
‘To-morrow night I will call again,” Thomas
returned, ‘To-morrow I will find Miss Cari-
zelle’s address, if it is to be found, and give you
me ort when I come.” —

__ He bade Mr. Severn good-night, and offered
Claremont a seat in the coupé, setting him
down at his hotel, __

poy CHAPTER XXIX.
hog ROY CLAREMONT’S FRIEND.
Tue next day nothing was mentioned on the
subject that so deeply interested so many peo-
Rie, each in a different way. Mr. Severn, by
fhomas’s advice, said nothing to Olga, nor did
she refer to the matter to any one, as Jerome
Welsh had not had the opportunity of a private
interview with her. ;

It was, however, a day of intensest interest
to all concerned, and the return of Clifford
Knight was most eagerly awaited by both
Welsh, Olga and Claremont, each of whom had

their own information to obtain, in their own-

way.

; velit brought Mr. Thomas, promptly at
the appointed time, and Mr. Severn and Mr.
Claremont received him ean an impatient
eagerness that was impossible to conceal.

‘I will plunge into my communication at
once,” he said, as he bowed and took the chair
‘indicated. “I have beén busy all day, and
_ Anderson, a professional detective, whose ser-

vices I have successfully pple, beforé, has
been on the track since I saw him last night,
after leaving you, He interviewed Jennyngs,
your hall-porter, sir, and learned that Miss
Carizelle had been SEV by. Mrs, Osmond,
who had left word with her imaid that a young
we from Stewart, Arnold and Lord’s would
call upon her at a. fied hour.” oe ;
Claremont listened as though his ‘life de-
pended upon what thé'lawyer said. v

1 oe goon me your discovery,” Mr. Sey-

ern said, eagerly. i : :

“With wash thread ven which to start, T

sent one of my clerks to the dry-goods house,
with a note, requesting the address of Miss
Carizelle, employed by them, and received, in
reply, information that was most desirable.
Miss Carizelle’s number and street were sent,
with the extra intormation; however, that she
would be found to be exclusively engaged upon
work for Mrs. Osmond, of Fifth avenue. Of
course, the party who wrote the note believed I
' was in need Miss Carizelle’s services, and
thus tuitously placed another link in the
chain in my hand. '
“© And then, what?” t
“Then I personally went to the address—
here it is, on this card; you see—and learned
that Miss Carizelle and a servant-woman whose
name is Elsbeth—” yy
- Rov’s face suddenly flashed with keenest
satisfaction, almost relief, as he interrupted

Thomas. _. :
ss Thank God, Elsbeth is with her to care for

her and protect her! Go on, Thomas!”

 

“That Miss Carizelle and her servant had
given up their rooms, and gone to Mrs. Os-
mond’s country-seat ‘Bonamy,’ to be engaged
upon fancy ae and embroidery and such
feminine folderols for several weeks.”

Mr. Severn looked utterly surprised, while
Claremont’s eyes brightened.

“ At ‘Bonamy!’
train.” : :

““And Olga deliberately played me falsely!
She sent Miss Carizelle to her husband’s little
mountain cottage to get her out of my way!”

His voice was low and full of restrained ‘in-
dignation.

‘Wait until you are in possession of all the
facts,” Thomas said, quietly. ‘After ascer-
taining that Miss Carizelle had gone to Bonamy,
I at once telegraphed to the nearest village that
a reliable persor at once inquire for her at Mrs.
Osmond’s place, and the answer, reaching me
since dark, is, that, although a dispatch was
received from Mrs. Osmond there days ago,
stating that Miss Carizelle would be at Bonamy
the following day, she had ‘not appeared, and
they knew nothing whatever of her.”

The relieved, excited look suddenly died out
of Claremont’s eyes, and a startling gravity
spread over his face.

“Then where is she?’ he asked, in a voice
that thrilled both listenérs to their very souls. «
Thomas shook his head slowly. ‘

in y, investigations came’ suddenly and
sharply to an end just where the mystery is
deepest. Anderson and myself have spent ‘the
entire day in trying to find the hackman who
took them ‘to the train, but all our efforts, so
far, are of no account. There is another thing,
though, that I extracted from the landlady—
and that is, that a gentleman has been an occa-
sional caller upon Miss Carizelle, and, if my
suspicions are correct, it is your cousin, sir—
Mr. Clifford Knight. The old woman did not
know his name, nor have I seen Mr. Knight for
years, but by her description I should say it
was he.”

In a few words he described Knight’s per-
soual appearance as the landlady had given it
to him, even to the charm he wore at his
watch chain.

Claremont’s breath camie in quick, agitated
inspirations as he listened.

“Tt is Clifford! And he has known of Stella’s
residence in the city, and kept it from me.
How did he learn of it?) Why did she not com-
municate with me?) Why did she come at all?”

He began an impetuous walk up and down,
while Mr. Severn absently picked up the busi-
ness card of Stewart, Arnoldand Lord and read
the penciled address on the reverse side.

‘Olga told me she did not know where Miss
Carizelle lived. She deceived me about her
name, she told me she was of foreign birth and
one of a large family. She has deliberately de-
ceived me. She has deliberately lied to me
throughout, as she did to Roy.”

“ And her motive is easily to be understood,”
Claremont said, warmly. ‘‘Olga was alarmed
at your sudden admiration for Stella, and feared
you would carry out your impulse, and seek her
out and adopt her. She was jealous lest you
aa leave your money to a strange young

“ Precisely,” echoed Thomas. ‘‘ That is part
of my theory. Besides, Mr. Claremont, you
must remember that there are other reasons
why Mrs. Osmond would have wished Miss
Carizelle well out of her way—for a while, at
least. Rumor has it that your cousin aspires
to your hand, and she of course knows of your
intentions toward the young lady.”

“T think you do Olga injustice there,” he said,
gravely. Whee

“JT do not think Olga is capable of anything
good,” Mr, Severn said, impetuously.  ‘‘She is
false and deceitful, and I shall confront her
with the whole story, and thrust her falsehoods
down her throat. She shall tell us where Miss
Carizelle has gone.” ;

“Tf she can,” Thomas said, thoughtfully. “I
am inclined to think, however, that she does
not: know where the young lady is. It seems to
me, that in all good faith she telegraphed her
coming, and since Miss’ Carizelle has, for rea-
sons we do not yet understand, failed to reach
Bonamy, it is not Mrs. Osmond’s fault.”

“ All the same, Olga’s intentions were to hide
Miss Carizelle from public gaze. Thomas, go
ahead as fast as you can, and spare no expense,
however insignificant the clew you have to fol-
low. The young girl must be found. Great
Heaven, to think of the mystery going on
right at our own doors in this age of the
world!” ©

Claremont halted in his promenade.

‘* Possibly she may have returned to her for-'

mer home. I will telegraph at once. If she is
not there, the next—” - ‘ A
A servant ees at the door, and said that
Mr. Knight wished to see Mr. Severn a moment,
if agreeable. ; j
‘*Show him in here. Thomas, you and I will
adjourn to the smoking-room for awhile.”

‘ Datta the several seconds between the de-
parture of Mr. Severn and the solicitor, and the
appearance of Clifford Knight, Claremont
stood like a statue before the fire, his eyes full

will go to her by the first |

 

of gloomy apprehension, his attitude that of
stony despair. : sue

A low, familiar rap on the’ door peer
Knight’s entrance, and he entered, smiling and
plausible, not even taken aback when he saw
that it was Claremont aud not Mr. Severn’ who
awaited him. wong f

He went up to Claremont and held out his
hand with a pleasant cordiality that indicated
no apprehension of a failure to respond; but
Claremont refused to take it, and his face was
cold and stern as marble. ‘

‘Quite a surprise, Claremont, I assure you.
Glad to see you. How do?” + " t

He refused to see the S aciaial in his
cousin, and stepped up beside the glowing fire
in a familiar, easy way. ‘ :

‘*A beastly cold night, and I am dead tired,
too—just got in a while ago. You’re not look-
ing-well, Roy. Anything the matter?”

“Will you sit down?” Claremont said, with °
grave courtesy. ‘I wish to speak with you on
a subject that is more than painful to me. To
ask youif you think your conduct toward me
during the past few weeks has been that of a
friend?”

Knight looked at him, honesty and frankness
impersonated on his face. t

‘Of course it has been—it always is,” he said,
heartily. -‘‘Why do you put such an absurd
question to me?” ) ‘ : ‘ \

“Because ‘have only just found out that you °
were aware of the residence ih this city of Miss
Carizelle, and have been guilty of concealing'the
fact from me.” , ‘

“T plead guilty to the charge, Roy, but you
are bound to hear my side of the story. I
thought I was doing you an inestimable favor
in keeping Miss Carizelle’s presence in the city
a secret for a few days, until I had proved my
loyalty to you in the way I shall explain.”

Claremont looked intently at him, for the
prompt, honest, half-aggrieved manner impress-
ed him with a momentary indecision: ¢

‘*Tt was entirely by chance I met Miss Cari-
zelle,” he explained, gravely. ‘‘I met ber on
the street, as she was in search of embroidery
work at the stores. She gave me her address,
and I begged her to allow me to-be of any ser-
vice I could to her—for your sake, Roy, when,
to my surprise, she made it the condition of my
further acquaintance with her, that I would not
inform you of her presence here. She had
heard a false, cruel rumor of your engagement
to Olga, and in her prideand righteous jealousy
utterly refused to allow me to communicate
with you. I at once saw the unfortunate posi-
tion in which she was omg and I made up my
mind it should be my business to disabuse her
of the cruel mistake under which she was
laboring. I promised not to tell you, and she
honored me with permission to call upon her
and Elsbeth, which I occasionally did, never
once forgetting the object I had in view of
serving you and furthering your happiness,
knowing how you loved the girl. - And my re-
ward, it seems, is to be accused of being a@ trai-
tor. Roy, I did not think this of you. I ex-
pected to come to you, when I had accomplished.
my task—” j ;

Claremont suddenly stretched out his hand,
his handsome face = with agitation.

‘¢ Forgive me, Clifford,” he said, ee
“You will admit that I had ample cause to
wounded, not understanding the whole truth.
I see I have been too hasty in my judgment,
but my great sorrow has unmanned me. You
do not know the worst of it.” ; } els

‘‘My dear fellow, I know it all—and my trip
to Washington was one of search for Miss Cari-
zelle and her servant. Ilearned she was gone,
and my horror and amazement could scarcely
have exceeded'your own. I learned that she
had left the city to go to Bonamy, Mrs. Os-
mond’s country seat, and in my anxiety to know
if she had arrived safely, I ‘alagespeadl to find
she had not reached there. I immédiately con-

cluded there had been foul ss pe believe still
that t moved by jealousy, removed Miss
Carizélle beyond your reach. How strange,

how passing strange that they two should ever
have been thrown so fatefully together.”
‘‘But your Washington trip! You discov-

ered nothing?” 9

“Less than nothing. 1 had once heard Els-
beth say she knew parties in that city, and on
that slender chance I did what I could. But no
party answering my description had. been seen
at either terminus.” id

His face was grave and gloomy, as though he
experienced a disappointment too deep for com-
mensurate expression. . gs \

‘“‘The mystery must be solved,” Claremont
said, arousing from a momentary reverie. ‘I
have set Thomas to work upon it, and he has
the aid of Mr. Anderson, one of the best men in
the secret service. Stella shall be found, at
any cost of money or life. Can you advance
no theory as to why she left her island home
and came to New York?” i

“Did 1 not tell you_the reason?” Knight an-
swered, gloomily. ‘*Mr. Leigh died very sud-
denly and his wife followed him,  broken-
hearted. Miss Carizelle was left quite desti-
tute, and, being obliged to earn living,
brought Elsbeth to the city with her.”

}

 

 

a

 
 

 

27

 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

A groan burst from Claremont’slips, __

““My poor little darling! Forsaken and des-
titute, working with her needle for her daily
bread while I live in luxury and at my ease!”

“Don’t give up like that, Roy,” Knight said,
consolingly. ‘* With faithful o 4 Elsbeth, Miss
Carizelle can never be friendless, and although
she has so mysteriously and suddenly flashed
out of sight, like a comet, yet with so much de-
termination, and powerful influence and sleep-
less vigilance expended on efforts to find her,
success will surely soon follow, And think how
happy the reunion will be! I will never cease
in my efforts until I pat her hand in yours, and
then, Roy, you-will belieye I am. the stanch
friend I profess to be.” :

‘We will vork together. I accept your of-
fer of assistance, Clifford,” Claremont said,
warmly, grasping the hand of his enemy, all
his soul in his eyes.’ . ‘‘ We will begin at the be-

inning and go over the und .step by. step.

'o think she could believe I was not true to her.
my little love. How could she have gained
such cruel information, and she a stranger
here?” ie

“Don’t you remember the notice in the Sun
that annoyed you so, quite lately?’ he. ex-
plained, gently. ‘‘Miss Carizelle happened :to
see that day’s issue, and nothing I could say
madeé her discredit it. When I learned she had

accepted a position in Olga’s employ, I could |

only believe she meant to conquer
ings regarding you.”

“That accursed paper! The imbecile gossip
that some reporter has seized with the avidity
of a shark, Buds Perhaps, ruined her life and
mine! Where can she be? Great God, when I
think of all that might happen her I fear I shall
lose my reason!”

er own feel-

 

CHAPTER XXX:
OLGA ON TRIAL. ‘4
Krrniy anxious as both Olga and Jerome
Welsh were to.see Clifford Knight upon his re-
turn from his flying trip, such an interview was
skillfully avoided by him for the immediate

resent, while the two baffled irators were
orced to nurse their impatient fears for a little
time longer. b

The next day after the conversation between
Claremont and Knight, Olga received a mes-
sage from Mr. Severn requesting her to meet
him in the library—a summons t
with fear and horror; for she knew by instinct
what the nature of the interview: would be.
She dreaded to go, and she dared not refuse,
and between the two fires she became thor-
oughly nervous and terrified.

‘“‘Tf I only could see Welsh and have his ad-
vice,” she thought, as she paced the floor of her
room in indecisive fear. ‘‘He would tell me
whatlamtosay.”

The servant was waiting outside her door for
her answer; and she gained time by a sudden
inspiration,

“Tell Mr. Severn I-am ill with a most shock-
ing headache, but as soon as I feel the least bet-
ter I will at once go to him.”

Her pale, troubled face and burning eyes
corroborated her statement, and the servant
went away with her message, which he faith-
fully repeated.

Five minutes afterward, Olga was writing a
note to Welch, telling him that Mr. Severn had
sent for her, and that she had returned word
she was suffering from headache, and asking
him what she should do, requesting his reply on
the same paper her own note was written-upon,
so that she might with her own hands destroy

both. . ; ’

She dispatched the sealed note by her maid,
who found Mr. Welsh alone in the butler’s
office, going over the weekly accounts, —_.

He read the note, and instantly penciled on
the reverse side: ‘

“Keep your room as long as possible with your
meeacieoniien or ‘three ana if you ean, When
forced to an interview, admit that yousentS. C. to
B. in order to keep her out of Mr. S,’s way, and ac-
knowledge that you have no idea where she is, or
why she did not reach there.”

He resealed the note, and sent it to Olga, who”

read it eagerly, and then tore it into fragments
and burned it in her grate, watching the filmy
ashes until they were past all danger of tale-

telling.

She" followed Welsh’s adyice literally, Her
maid undressed her and she returned to her
bed, and lay with the room darkened, and
aromatic vinegar bound on her throbbing tem-
ples, for the excitement and apprehension had
given her a genuine headache.

During the day Sibyl came several times to
inquire of her condition, and once Mr. Severn
sent to ask if she was still suffering, and would

not see the doctor.

The nextday, although she did not go down-
PE es Olga did not keep her bed, but received
Siby] for a little while in her room, and the suc-
ceeding day, found herself unable to any longer
continue the farce, P

Nor did she care to. She had prepared her-
self, by many hours of shoNENt, or the inter-
view. familiarity with the subject had rob-
bed if of its terrors.

The morning she appeared at breakfast, Mr.

t filled her’

Severn gravely inquired if she. thought she

library. 3 ;
_ “Most certainly,” she said, promptly. “I
am so sorry I:was tooill to prenh you. the de-
sired interview day before yesterday, but I was
suffering so dreadfully that I could not.”

“Then I
Olga,” he answered, while in his heart he won-
dered whether she had been such a sufferer as
she represented herself to be—for certainly her
appearance did not indicate having passed

_through such an ordeal.
At precisely half-past eleven Olga entered the
library, and to her surprise and momentary

erturbation, saw that spas was also there,
Pu she skillfully concealed her dismay, and be-
stowed her most dareling smile upon him as she
bowed and sunk gracefully in the chair that he
pushed nearer the table for her.

‘*T will not detain you longer than I can help,
Olga,” Mr. Severn began, very gravely. ‘1

.wish to ask you a few questions.’

Ole glanced significantly at the lawyer.

“Thomas’s
fluous, but nec 5 ee : :

‘‘T cannot imagine why it should be,” she said,
chillingly. 2

“There are many things you perhaps do not
understand.. Olga, where is Miss Carizelle?”

He put the question so abruptly that in spite

of her determined efforts to be perfectly self-
controlled, her determination to meet easily
and honestly any question he might ask, Olga’s
face paled, and a swift, frightened look flashed
out of her dark eyes. :

‘Miss Carizelle! Why do youask me? Iam
not Miss Carizelle’s keeper.”

. She forced a defiance she could not compel
herself to feel, in her cold tones.

“So Cain asked his Maker after he had killed
his brother,” Mr, Severn said, with stern solem-
nity in his voice that made Olga’s blood curdle
as'she heard it, and involuntarily she. averted
her face, the look on which, cold, and pallid,
and scared, would have accused her to Mr. Sev-
ern and Thomas if they had seen it.

She did not answer—she could not for very
horror, and although she sat with averted face,
paralyzed by the awful words, both Mr. Severn

_and the lawyer construed her manner and atti-
tude into haughty displeasure,

‘I told you theday I first saw Miss Carizelle,”
Mr. Severn broke the brief silence by saying—
‘“‘that I had taken a peculiar interest in the
young girl. Her loveliness, her refinement, her
evident superiority to her station_in life, all
took so strong a hold upon me that I expressed
a desire to adopt her as my own, in anticipa-
tion of the time when you and Sibyl should

she was of low, foreign birth, one of a family of
common people, whose name was Smith. All
this was—deliberately false, and you knew it
when you spoke it.” ,

Olga swallowed nervously, for it seemed to
her that every slow-spoken word was like a
coal of livid fire scorching her throat. She
—e to speak in defense, but not a sound obeyed

er.

“By a remarkable fatality, I discovered that
the young lady was not Miss Smith, but Miss
Stella Carizelle, and I at once set Thomas at
the task of discovery of her address. He
learned it, and learned also that you had hired
. Miss Carizelle to go to your summer cottage,
Bonamy, and do some work for you. He also
learned, further, that Miss Carizelle has not
arrived at Bonamy, Olga, where did she

go?

*“T told you I was not the girl’s keeper,” she
retorted, in desperate, yet partly suppressed
fierceness, ‘‘How do I know where she is? She
agreed to go to Bonamy and spend several
weeks sewing for me, and it was arranged that
she be actompanied by her servant—an igno-
rant, credulous, simple old woman. It is more
than likely they lost their way, or misinter-
preted my directions. Perhaps the girl changed
fan mind, and has decided to give up the situa-
tion. Perhaps she has returned to her former
home—there are many natural reasons for their
not reaching their supposed destination. All I
know is, they have not Sapchied at Bonamy.”

“You. know where her former home is,
Olga?’ Mr. Severn said, pointedly, looking at

her, 1 :

‘I do not,” she answered, gradually recover-
ing her courage. ‘‘I am not in the habit of ac-
quainting myself with the antecedents of the
servants I hire.”

“ And you do not know who Miss Carizelle
really is?”

Mr. Thomas put the
ae at him, recklessly

m.
“From words Mr. Claremont let fall, I con-
clude she is the adventuress whom he met
during the summer, and who had the indelicacy
to follow him home.” ! ;

A little mysterious smile lurked for a second
around the lawyer’s mouth. ;

“You are correct in supposing Miss Carizelle
to be the young lady whom Mr. Claremont in-
tends to marry, but her coming to the in

uestion, and Olga
etermined to defy

 

i

would be able to see him that morning in his

will see you at half-past eleven, ,

presence is not. only not super-.

have gone to homesof your own.. Youtold me

 

search of honest employment, compat by

her servant, does not a r as incredible as
the fact that gtbctaiate tae your learning
who she is, you employ her, and—she suddenly
and mysteriously disappears.” ; :

Olga’s face flushed with rage. ‘
_ “How dare you speak so to me?. Asif I had
committed some crime, and it was your highest
ambition to alienate my uncle from me!”.

She rose from her chair in her well-simulated
spent:

‘‘ Be seated, Olga,” Mr. Severn said, sternly.

“Don’t treat us to any display of temper. You

know that I already am, in heart, alienated
from you, for, at every turn, I find you more
and more deceitfully false. You have invented
a tissue of falsehoods, because you desired to
get Miss Carizelle out of my way, because you
eared 7Os failure in winning Roy for your
husband. . You will not attempt to deny this?”
‘You cannot, you dare not.” ;
Olga compressed her lips a second, and
Thomas saw the hard clutch of her fingers on
the back of the-chair she declined to resume,
““T have no wish to deny it,” she said, slowly.
“T understood that the girl was of low bir
and Isaw you were strangely infatuated with
her beauty. I did not believe her worthy of
the honor you desired to offer her, and, as I. ~
needed her ‘services, I. frankly admit I en-
aged her to go to Bonamy, so that she might. .
Be out of your way, so that you might not act

-upon a generous impulse you. would after

regret. I may haye done wrong. I willown LE
was jealous of the place she might have taken —
in your affections. I have tyied to win your ,
confidence and love, and I believed I was suc-
ceeding, just as she step in. and threa'

ruin tome, If Ihave done wrong, I have suf-
fered for it. If you knew how much, you
would rather pity than blame me.”

She looked at Mr. Severn, her face and eyes:
indeed indicative of intense mental suffering—
but not the suffering she meant him to believe.

Mr. Severn returned her piteous, beseeching

gaze steadily. -
‘‘Are you speaking the truth, Olga? Will.
ou swear, by the living God, you have no |
Towieaxe or suspicion of Miss Carizelle’s where-
abouts?”

His voice was awfully stern and impressively

solemn. #3

Olga lifted her right hand, her diamonds
flashing as if in corroboration of her equally
solemn oath. :

‘*] swear I know no more of her whereabouts
than you do—as God hears me!”

A silence followed, and then Oiga broke im-
petuously forth.

““Of what do you ane me—this time? Let
me know the worst of it,” she said, plaintively.

“T do not know what Isuspect. I thought
you may have procured her a situation el
where, or induced her to return home, or—”

Olga interrupted him in a flash of seeming in-
dignation.

. J demand the fullest possible investigation—
T insist upon the best detectives being sent for,
and the mystery probed to the bottom! Twill
have my innocence proved—to yo my dearest:
friend, my nearest relative, who turn ¢
me at every side. I only wish I was dead.”
goer ae on pete pea es

e.chair- and gave way toa of sobs, |
which, while they wane Heatly the hysterical es-
cape of the high-wrought fear and agitation of .
the situation, passed very well for a storm of
grief andrighteous indignation.

. Mr. Severn regarded her gravely, and Mr._
Thomas watched him. And although he dis-
liked Olga and could not entirely disabuse his
ining what he suspected her in the past, yet
he dared not disbelieve the awfully solemn oath

she had taken, or relentlessly decide that she ~

was really base, and wicked, and depraved.
“There is no necessity for your ory ng,” he
said, at last. ‘If you have not done Miss

zelle any harm, through your foolish jealousy,

and have had no hand in her strange ,

ance, you have nothing to cry about.” :

She touched her dainty little handkerchief to
her eyes, to dry her tears. Oe a

“You don’t believe what I say,” she sobbed. .

“Whether I believe you to be a truthful wo-
man or not, Olga, I cannot think you would
perjure yourself by swearing falsely. Youhave
solemnly sworn you know nothivg whatever of
Miss Carizelle’s fate, and I accept your word.
We will find her. Thomas will continue his
search, most thoroughly and vigorously, and
when we do find her, I shall not only le-_
gally adopt her, and make her my heiress in-
stead of Clifford Knight, thereby f
all your aniiable efforts in my behalf, but Clare-
mont will marry her, and any hopes you may
have built in that direction will be without ful-
fillment.”..

‘“‘T do not think she can care very much for
Roy,” she said, quietly, “or she would never
have acted as she has done, You know that —
you wished my cousin to marry me, your
changing your mind cannot alter my ae
the matter. I will join in your search for
Carizelle with as much energy as one can dis-
play, and eeePey. not only prove to you I Pea

innocent of the treachery you

disconnect from her disappearance, but, to show —

¢

‘

'

.

4

;

‘

»

 
 
  

28

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

‘you as well, that, when she is found, my cousin
‘may not prefer her to me, after all. And now,
if you will excuse me, I will retire to my own
room to recover from my agitation.”

She bowed gravely and left them, a silence
following her departure that was at length
‘broken by Mr. Severn.

“Well, Thomas, what do you think about it?”

The lawyer frowned puzzledly.

“ Honestly, I don’t know what to think or
' what tosay. Mrs. Osmond acknowledges hav-
ing, through jealousy, tried to remove the young
lady from your-way, but has sworn to her ig-
norance ot her whereabouts.”

‘¢ And we must believe her,” Mr. Severn said,
gravely. ‘She would not dare forswear her-
self. he ie grows deeper than ever.
Where can Miss Carizelle be? Lose no time,
‘Thomas, in prosecuting the search, for I am

sitive there is some wicked secret involved in

er disappearance, and the longer we are in
finding her, the better chance her enemies have
to compass her destruction.”

‘One word more beforeI go,” Thomas said,
hae “You told Mrs. Osmond that you
should make Miss Carizelle your heiress, Am I
to understand you have fully decided to alter
-your will in her favor?”

**T have fully decided to do it. She will be
amy adopted child, and Claremont’s wife, and
my future home will be with them, Tear up
the will I signed the other evening, and draw
me up another, similar in minor details, and at
sed leisure I will decide upon the income I shall
allow Clifford Knight—one suitable to the hus-
band of the heiress of Vinc2nt Place. And be
relentless in your search for Miss Carizelle.
‘We will unearth the mystery that surrounds
her disappearance; whatever it be, we must
solve it!”

 

CHAPTER XXXI.
THE DARKEST HOUR OF ALL.

Roy Ciaremont had lost no time in prose-
cuting his search. During those days tha Ol
remained a voluntary prisoner in her room, he
and Clifford Knight had gone together to Stella
Carizelle’s late home, and obtained an interview
with her landlady, who was as alarmed when
she heard the news of Stella’s mysterious dis-
Cries as it was possible for her to be.
She spoke of her lost young lodger in terms of

highest admiration and praise, and lauded
’ faithful old Elsbeth as that trusty servant de-
served to be lauded, and unhesitatingly ex-
pressed her despairing conviction that some
terrible fate had befallen them.

According to Claremont’s urgent request, she
escorted him through the vacant apartments
that Stella had occupied, pointing out to him
her favorite window, her sewing-chair, where
she usually sat to read of an evening, and he
walked slowly through the rooms, his eyes
grave and gloomy, his heart heavy as lead.

“Such a perfect lady as she was I never did
see,” she said, sadly, the honest, heartfelt tears
in her eyes, ‘‘I never took such an interest in
a stranger before in my life. I loved her, and
she knew it, too—and Pd ’a’ Bere at nothing
for her. She was that quiet and gentle, with a
look in her beautiful b!ue eyes as if she’d often
the heartache, but never a complaint, or a long
face, and always her sweet, lovely smile when
I met her in the hall or around. ‘Poor, dear
lamb, God guard her if she’s safe yet.”

Knight was awaiting Claremont in’ the land-
lady’s little parlor, walking restlessly to’ and
fro, with a strange sinister sneer in his eyes
that suddenly changed to grave sympathy when
Claremont entered the room again, followed by
the landlady.

‘‘There’s one thing I can tell you that maybe
“will be of some use to you, sir,” she said, as
Clareniont and Knight were leaving the room.
“‘T have been puzzled over it eversince. There
was a gentleman drove up to my door, here,
about two or three hours after Miss Carizelle
had gone, and he seemed dreadfully agitated
and Siearpotnted, and asked me all the ques-
tions he could lay his tongue to, about’ where
Miss Carizelle went, and how she went, and
who escorted her, and all such.”

Claremont listened eagerly.,

““Describe the gentleman,” he said, impetu-
ously.

She did so, and while Clifford ig Ry in-
stantly recognized Jerome Welsh from her un-
satisfactory description, Claremont failed to do

S80.

‘Who can this man be? Whoever it is,
Knight, he is somehow connected with Stella.
Do you recognize her description?”

“T do not,” Clifford said, aa
*¢ At least, I can recall a dozen men who would
answer to it. But, Roy, I cannot understand
the importance of the information, since Miss
Carizelle was gone when he came. It may
have been one of the firm who employed her,
who was disappointed to find her gone.”

“It may have been, yes,” Claremont re-

turned, slowly, ‘‘butI cannot think it. Stella
had no friends here to regret her departure,
and it seems already clear to me that she has
enemies,”

“We will work together,” Clifford said,
eagerly. ‘I will assist you in any way possi-
ble. Heaven knows I would have spared you
ee trouble if I could have done so, old fel-
ow.

And he was resolved to share all Claremont’s
counsels and be completely in his confidence,
for thereby he would perfectly screen himself
and the more eas Pee his own plans.

“You are the best friend man ever had,”
Claremont said, gratefully, ‘‘and God will re-
ward you even as you are so true and unselfish
to me in my hour of trial.”

And as they sat opposite each other in the
carriage, Knight could not look steadfastly
in Claremont’s eyes, for what was meant as a
blessing on his head was clamoring in his ears
like an awful curse.

The next day the gentlemen devoted to visit-
ing the different hack-stands in the city, but no
one could give the least information. Since the
day Stella had hired the coach, men had been
dismissed, and substitutes had been employed,
so that no information was possible.

The day following advertisements were in-
serted in the Personal columns of the leading
New York dailies, begging “Stella C..” late
with Mr. L., deceased, to communicate with R.
C., at her recent city address.

In addition, Mr. Thomas sent one. of his
clerks to Stella’s old nome to learn whatever
there was to be learned, and whose only result
was that no one had seen or heard of Miss Cari-
zelle or Elsbeth.

Mr. Thomas also had private instructions

forwarded to the chiefs of police in all impor- |

tant cities, offering a magnificent reward for
information, and describing accurately the
personality of Elsbeth and her young mis-
tress.

In accordance with Thomas’s directions, Mr.
Claremont made a trip to Bonamy, accom-
panied by Mr. Severn, where they saw the dis-
patch Olga had sent the housekeeper, and the
immense trunks of material that had arrived
the day Miss Carizelle had been expected.

‘*T was bound to believe Olga’ssworn words,”
Mr. Severn said, when, the examination com
pleted, and there being nothing further to de-
tain them, they begun their tiresome, tedious
ride home, ‘‘and, yet, there was a strange dis
trust I could not rid myself of. 1 am glad to
see her story confirmed, for it makes our wa
clearer. We know that wherever Stella is, it 1s
not of Olga’s doing. We know that Olga en-
gaged her in serious earnest and perfect good
aith to come and stay here. Woe have learned, -
to my entire satisfaction, that the fault does
not lie at Olga’s door.”

‘Thank God, it does not! It was terrible for
me to be forced to endure the Link pd sus-
picion I had of Olga’s complicity in Stella’s dis-
appearance, and now that we have so conclu-
sively proved her innocence, we can not only
afford to pardon her jealousy lest my little girl
supplant her in your affections, but make
amends for our brief suspicions of her.”

“J dare say you are right,” Mr. Severn ‘re-
turned, in that constrained, involuntarily reluc-
tant way, that invariably marked his speech
and tone when he essayed to speak in Mrs. Os-
mond’s favor.

“TJ dare say you are right.. Olga’s innocence
is established, and she is exonerated from the
charges I made against her. And now, the
next step is to visit every depot and ferry—an
almost useless task, for it is exceedingly un-
likely that out of thousands of travelers two
quiet, retiring women would be noticed, un-
less the officials had been previously instruct-
ed,

‘Yet Icannot afford to overlook the unlike-
liest means that may lead to a discovery.”

He was looking very depressed and grave,
and Mr. Severn’s heart ached for him.

“There is another matter upon which I de-
sire to express myself specifically to you, Roy.
and.it is‘that 1 admit, here and now, that I did
Miss Carizelle gross injustice in deciding upon
her before I knew her merits. I want to take
back every word condemnatory of her that I
ever said. “I have seen her, and I know she is
ron and nobleand worthy even of you, whether

er parentage is obscure or even low. I have
already decided to adopt her for my own, to
fill the place that my little Viva would kave oc-
eupied. Olga will marry and leave me, and
Clifford will take his wife to Vincent Place, and
I want this blue-eyed, fair-haired girl to brighten
my old age for me, She will be my heiress
when we find her, Roy. I have already in-
structed Thomas to make my will to that effect,
and, when these perils that seem to environ her,
have all vanished away, you will marry her,
ae give her to me to be my relative, in-
dee

He reached out his hand, and Roy grasped it
in silent gratitude.

They reached the city in the evening of the
day after they ree for Bonamy, all un-
conscious of the knowledge that in the train
that had left New York just an hour later than
the train they took, Clifford Knight had trav-
eled to the Grant cottage—‘‘ Bonamy ”in Rock-

 

land ‘county, where he spent the day with Stella
and Elsbeth,

 

Ee was progressing to his entire sat-
isfaction. . The box of materials he had ordered
from a furnishing house the day he had ar-
ranged with Stella, had arrived at the station,
and Grant had conveyed it to the cottage, and
Stella had at once set to work upon the dainty
embroideries.

His visit was one of friendship, although
more than once Stella had observed a certain
eager ardor in his manner andlook, and Knight
went away feeling complacently satisfied with
the progress he was making.

He renewed his assurances of his love for
Stella to Elsbeth, and received in return her as-
surances that she would favor him and his
cause in all possible ways. To Mr. and Mrs,
Grant he repeated his cautions, peremptorily
forbidding any newspapers or kandbills to en-
ter the house under any pretext whatever, and
to keep ceaseless watch over the unconscious
young risoner lest her daily walks extended

ond the limits he prescribed.

eturning home, he reached the city an hour
orso before Mr. Severn did, casually mention-
ing he had been detained from home overnight
very unexpectedly, and did not telegraph for
fear of alarming Sibyl.

All this while, Jerome Welsh had been quiet-
ly and vigorously pushing his own line of inves-
tigation. He had ee | a detective to go
to Washington and make inquiries, which, of
course, resulted in complete failure, as, indeed,
did all the efforts made to discover the where-
abouts of the missing girl.

The days went by, and grew into weeks, and
with every added day Mr. Severn and Clare-
mont grew more disheartened and alarmed, and
Clifford. Knight more elated and secure. He
visited Stella several times, and saw that his
visits were not unpleasant to her, and upon this
special day that Mr. Severn, Claremont and

omas held a consultation, had decided that
upon his next visit to Stella he would confess
his love to her, and in the meantime perfect his
plans for the wicked farce he intended should
personate marriage.

Upon this particular evening, the three gen-
tlemen met for their usual weekly consultation,
and Claremont’s pale, haggard. face, stern-sét
lips and hollow eyes showed plainly the mental
strain under which he had been-living the past
few weeks, during which time he had failed in
his sleeping and in his eating, so keen was his
suffering anc impatience on Stella Carizelle’s
account. And Mr. Thomas’s heart smote him
at sight ot it, while the despondency on his own
deepened. ;

‘*Tt seems to me we have come to the end of
the rope,” he said, gloomily. ‘‘I am sorry to
say I have no news whatever to render, and not
only that, but neither Anderson or I see any-
thing further to.do. We have searched far and
near, in likely and unlikely places, we have been
in communication with numberless cities, we
have advertised and hunted, offered rewards so
liberal that it seemed they must bring success,
and yet, we have not advanced one step. Miss
Carizelle’s fate is as shrouded in rayless mys-
tery as ever?”

‘“And you mean, Thomas, that you intend to
abandon the case.”

Mr. Severn looked almost -reproachfully at

‘im.

‘What more canwe do? I wouldrather givo
a year off my life than have to say it, but, I
am afraid there’s been foul play somewhere. 1}
begin to fear Miss Carizelle is past being
found.”
ee face paled, as Thomas iooked at

im.

“T have never thought the case hopeless until
now,” Claremont said, his voice husky and hol-
low with the bitterness of his soul. ‘‘But now
I seem to feel a gloom darker than death itself
—a horror I cannot endure when I think of her
—dead,no one knows how or when or where,
in her youth, and loveliness, and goodness.”

He bowed his head on his breast, the very
en of a strong man’s despair, while Mr.

evern and Thomas exchanged pitying glanc-

es.

Afterward, the lawyer withdrew, and Mr.
Severn essayed to console his nephew.

yo Pt oh boy. God knows I would spare
you if [ could: Must we give up all hope? I
cannot, I will not—see if you cannot rise supe-
rior to this depression that has settled ee
you, and that Thomas's words have caused. Let
me speak to you on another subject—that is
troubling me very much. Perhaps you have
heard the report that went the rounds of the
clubs recently, and that I emphatically denied,
that Olga intended to marry Jerome Welsh?
It is revived, itseems, and although Olga most
positively branded the rumor as false, to me,

et I know on responsible authority that Welsh

as boasted recently he would marry ber within
& month, and that the affair would ‘have come
off at the -holidays but for unforeseen reasons.
What do you think of it?”

“That you are bound to accept Olga’s ver-
sion. Welsh is just the man to make his vile
brags, and Olga is justly insulted by them.”

Despite his own ceaseless sorrow, he was al-
ach ready with his rentle courtesy and in-
terest.

 

 
 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

29

 

 

CHAPTER XXXII.
AT BONAMY.

To Stella Carizelle. the weeks since she had
been at the mountain cottage had bi very
much as soe had expected they would.

She and Elsbeth were treated with respectful
consideration by Mr. and Mrs. Grant and their
daughters, and as yet, after spending five
weeks in the house, neither Stella nor Elsbeth
had the remotest suspicion that they were
prisoners.

And yet, many little things had happened
that occurred to them‘as rather strange—trifles
that had only momentary weight at the time—
such as there being no communication with the
world away down below them, no mail matter,
no visitors to the Grants, and no conveyance
except that which Mr, Knight secured to pay
his visits.

Stella had been very busy with the embroid-
eries and silk and satin painting that Clifford
Knight had ordered sent'her, with directions
from the modiste of whom he purchased them
and between her delightful employment, and
the rest and peace the novelty of the position
brought her, she had been not only satisfied but
delighted with her surroundings, and had thor-
oughly enjoyed the wildness and grandeur of
the scenery. She had every day taken long
walks, attended by Elsbeth and some one of the
Grants, to whom every foot of the mountainous
roads was familiar, until the keen mid-winter
blasts and terrible snow-storms forbade, and
then, only, when her heart and spirits began to
flag under the close confinement of the house.
she began to be oppressed. by the loneliness an:
isolated desolation of her surroundings, and to
long for the time when her work should be
done and she should once more hear the sounds
and see the sights of city life.

Upon this especial day of which we write—
the afternoon of the day when Mr. Claremont
and the lawyer metin Mr. Severn’s library and
it seemed to them: that hope must die, Stella
Carizelle was standing at the window of her
sitting-room on the second story of the cottage,
looking with wistful eyes out on the intensely
dreary scene before and below her.

It was a bleak, bitterly cold day, and a north-
east wind was howling through the mountain-
tops as it never howls elsewhere, with sighs
and shrieks and sobs and wails that seem
like the cry of a lost soul. A blinding snow-
storm was raging, and the white whirl was fast
coverin, eae ing, and blotting out the
dreary, lonely landscape that stretched around.

It was just before the early winter twilight,

earlier than ever in the gloom of the day, an
Stella had laid aside her work, a pair of olive
silk stockings she was embroidering in gold-
colored and azure floss, and had gone to the
window to look out on the depressing scene that
was not calculated to raise spirits or rest
her tired head and heart.
‘ The weeks of her steady application had told
upon her, since her out-door exercise had been
cut off. She was paler and thinner than when
she had come to a she believed it—
but her glorious young beauty was not spoiled
in a feature or line.

She was dainty, and graceful, and distin-
guished as ever, and her lovely eyes, blue as a
summer sky, were full of the old sweetness and
pride, despite the look of sad loneliness and
wistfulness in them that was like a thin vail
over beautiy’s face.

The room in which she was was handsomely
furnished and entirely comfortable, and Stella's
work-basket, and table, and sewing-chair occu-

ied the pleasantest window nearest the roar-
ing open fire—the window at which she was
still stan ling, when Elsbeth entered.

“Tt will be a stormy night, Miss Stella, and
growin’ colder and wilder every minute. Grant
says the drifts ‘ll be ten feet high by morning,
if it keeps on.”

Stella shivered as she turned away from the
ree gathering outside gloom,

‘I hope not. That means there will be
no getting away from here for a week or so,
and [ could not endure to stay any longer. 1
am so anxious to get. back to New York, Els-
beth,”

“AndsoamI. It has been the longest five
weeks I ever passed in my life, and I’ve seen
how you pined and fretted to yourself at. the

rison-likeness of this place, and how you’ve

en so brave and patient that not a word _has
esca) you, When shall we go back, Miss
Stella?” :

Stella sat down in her little low chaijr, her
hands folded weariedly on her lap, her blue
eyes looking steadfastly in the fire, a slow, glad
little smile on her mouth.

‘“‘T wanted to surprise you, Elsbeth, with the
news. I have but one more garment to em-
broider, when I have finished the stocking I be-
gan this morning. There is Mrs, Osmond’s
crépe fichu to be done in cardinal and cream,
and then my task is accomplished. After five
weeks’ continuous labor, I will have taken the
last stitch to-morrow, Elsbeth. I am so glad,
oh, so glad!”

“AndsoamI! You have accomplished your
work, and well, too. You followed: your own
tastes and made everything to suit Mrs. Os-

 

mond’s brunette beauty, and you’ve earned
yeur money I think. Only think, Miss Stella,
what a snug littlesum you will have to put in
the bank, beside what we’ve saved.”

‘Sometimes I almost regret we ever came,”
Stella said, thoughtfully. ‘‘1 cannot tell why,
unless it is because everything is so different
from whatI expected. Bonamy may be a de-
lightful place in the summer, but it is terrible
in winter. Only think, Elsbeth, we have been
house-bound for three weeks, and since we came
we have never seen a human being except Mr.
Knight and the servants in the house. e have
been completely shut out from the world—hem-
med in by the awful cruel mountains that make
me feel I am in a prison. Elsbeth, I never
want tolive in the mountains again. I never
want tosee them again. But—we will getaway
to-morrow or the day after, Elsbeth.”

‘*1f the storm doesn’t hinder, and glad enough
T'll be, too, Miss Stella, to set foot on city pave-
ments again, and to hear the sound of travel
oncé more. Shall I have the lights brought in
now, Miss Stella?”

As Elsbeth rung for lights, and was giving
the order for her young mistress’s supper,
Stella gave a last look out into the white dark-
ness without, and with a little nervous shiver
turned away from the window.

A little later, Mrs. Grant’s oldest daughter,
Abby, came to announce that supper was
ready, and Stella and Elsbeth went down to
the warm, cheerful dining-room where a hot,
tempting meal was spread, of which Stella ate
onl, eee for with her decline in spirits
and health, her appetite had partially vanished
too,

‘*You don’t eat enough to keep a bird aliye
miss,” Abby said, pressing the delicious broiled
steak and stewed potatoes and fragrant choco-
late upon her.

“Tam not at all hungry to-night, thank you,
Abby,” Stella answered, kindly. ‘I think it is
joyful excitement that takes my appetite, how-
ever. I finish Mrs. Osmond’s embroidery to-
morrow, and I will be home the day after.”

A little unwonted flush rose to her cheeks.

“Tf the storm keeps up, there won’t be no
getting away from here to-morrow, nor yet the
next day, nor the next week. Father says it’s
the worst he ever seen. It’s three foot deep
a’ready on the level, and it on’y begun at
noon.”’.

“But I must go,” Stella said, eagerly. ‘‘I
cannot stay any longer. I’ve hurried to finish
gi there was to do, and I must get away—some-

ow.

Abby looked grimly at her.

‘“‘T don’t know what you mean by ‘somehow,’
miss. If there ain’t no way of goin’, how can
you got A few days don’t make much differ-
ence.

“Yes, but it does,” Stella said, with a smile
at the girl’s ignorance of her eagerness to get
away. ‘‘I am so dreadfully tired of the soli-
tude, I could not endure it another week, nor
could Elsbeth. I will.see your father in the
morning, and he must contrive some plan to
convey us to the railway station below.

“It’s sixtéen miles, miss, and not a human
being to break a path, and most of the way
them awful drifts,”

Stella did not reply, and when Elsbeth had

finished her supper, and Abby had. removed.:

the pea, she returned industriously to her
work,

‘‘J shall finish the stockings to-night, Els-
beth,” she said, cheerfully, “while you pack
our luggage. To-morrow I will embroider the
fichu, and we will get to the railroad station
somehow, and take the first train. Only think,
perbans to-morrow night we shall be on our way

ome!”

She drew nearer the bright lamplight, and
devoted herself to her work, while Elsbeth
busied herself in her joyful preparations for de-

parture. s

“That shiftless Abby hasn’t brought a. drop
of water for your ewer, Miss Stella,” she ex-
claimed, impatiently, as she lifted the empt:
pitcher. ‘VIL just run down and fill it oot
and say nothing about it.”

She took the pitcher and went out, and in
four or five minutes reéntered the room, almost
tottering as she walked, her face pale as ashes,
her eyes glowing with excitement, her whole
manner full of suppressed agitation and ter-
ror.

‘Miss Stella! Miss Stella,” she whispered,
huskily, laying her hand on Stella’s shoulder.
“Hus - shat Don’t. cry out at sight of me
—put on your shawl and come with me—quick,

uick! For the dear Lord’s sake, come; and

on’t stop to ask any questions! There’s some-
thing going on I can’t understand, somethin
terrible, whatever it is! Come, Miss Stella, I’
take you—you must find out what it means!”

She spoke so strangely, she looked so strange-
ly, and her manner was at once so startled and
startling, that Stella was at once impressed
witb a vivid alarm, She instantly threw down
her work, and sprung to her feet, frightened,
yet self-possessed, and understanding she was
not to waste a second of time.

She seized her blue zephyr shawl that Els-
beth had snatched from the open trunk where

 

she had folded it away not ten minutes before,

and wrapped it around her head and shoulders,

and silently, excitedly followed Elsbeth down

the stairs, through the lower hall, and down

the basement stairs, a region to which Stella

— never penetrated during her stay in the
ouse.

It was chillingly cold, and she appreciated
Elsbeth’s quick thoughtfulness, as she drew her
shawl tightly around her, and they sped
through the long, dark passage that led from

| the kitchen stairs through the depth of the

whole house to the room the Grants used in
winter as their kitchen and living room, and in
summer, when the house was full of guests, as
a Jaundry.

‘Where are you taking me?” Stella whis-
pered, as she began to recover from the terror
that had made her so implicitly yielding to Els-
beth’s will.

‘‘Hush—sh! Wait one minute, Miss Stella,”
she whispered inreturn, warningly. ‘See that
ebink of light—yonder—that is the place.”

They had reached the heavy wooden door
that opened from the long, dark cold, hall into
the winter kitchen, and Elsbeth stoo and.
peeped cautiously through the keyhole for a
second. Then she silently moved away, and.
motioned Stella to follow her example. -

Almost involuntarily she obeyed, and looked
through the big, old-fashioned key-hole to see
the interior of the room—large, low-ceiled
ablaze with the cheerful light and warmth of
an immense open fire. In the middle of the
room was spread the supper-table, and the
Grant family were seated around it, evidently
enjoying the hot, bountiful meal.

here was nothing in the scene suggestive of
the slightest cause of either apprehension or in-
terest, and a sense of suddenly eae displea-
sure for so needlessly and unpardonably alarm-
ing her, made Stella attempt to withdraw in-
dignantly from her position, but Elsbeth shook
her hi and pointed toward the room, and
held her in her place determinedly.

Just as Abby’s keen, shrill nasal voice broke
the silence:

“She declares she’ll go one way ’r ’nother,”
she said, ‘‘She told me her work was done,
and she couldn’t endure it here no longer,
and go she would. -And I kin tell you, fa-
ther, if you think you’ve got an easy customer
to deal with, you’re mistaken. Miss Car’zelle
is soft-spoken and sweet and gentle and quiet.
enough in her ways, but the minute she knows:
she’s-a prisoner here, we've. got our hands
fuller’n they ever was yet.”

 

CHAPTER XXXTIL
FACE TO FACE WITH THE TRUTH.

STELLA suddenly started, as if some stunning
blow had been struck her, and Elsbeth felt the
shuddering shiver. that thrilled through her
slender young frame.

‘But she needn’t know she’s a prisoner for
some time to come,” Grant responded, gruffly.
‘““We are in for a snowy season and she will
have to.accept the situation for some weeks yet,
anyhow,”

“ But I tell you she won’t let the storm keep
her. She means to go, and go she will, un-
less—”

Abby paused, significantly, and Stella, half-
dazed with the strange words, saw the look
that was exchanged between the three pairs of

es,

“Unless we tell her the truth, you mean,”
Mrs. Grant said, coolly. ‘If you’re forced to
it, why, there won’t be no use mincin’ matters.
I'd like to be present at the tellin’; though, and
see how she takes it when she learns she ain’t
at Bonamy no more than she’s in New York
city, that this ain’t Mrs. Osmond’s house no
more’n ‘tain’t her own. It’s only a mirycle
to me she’s been so easy im on—if she
wasn’t a unsuspectin’, high-minded, hon’rable
creetur’ she’d ’a’ suspicioned long Age

“* And all them senseless gimcracks she’s been
a sewin’ onto—I wonder what she'll say when
she finds they’re a humbug, that Mrs. ond
never seen ’em and never will?”

“And better ’n all,” chuckled Mr. Grant,
‘when she diskivers she’s been a prisoner all the
time and we're her jailers, who she considers
a ae listen ad, t ted by the appallin

tella ned, fascina e ing
terror that bewildered her. at did it mean?

That there was some stupendous villainy at
work, that some awful threatening awaited *
her she began to slowly understand, and as the
mn truth forced itself upon her she grew
deathly faint, and leaned heavily against the
door.

“It’s the beastliest business I ever undertook,”
Grant went on, crossly. ‘I wouldn’t stay an-
other winter up here in the mountains not fur
twict what the boss’s promised me fur keepin’
the girl. It’s been a stupid, lonesome time, and
T'll be gladder’n Mr. Knight will when he takes
the off’n our hands. He’s comin’ next Tues-—
day, and he’s goin’ to. bring the young feller
along to personate the parson, and we’ll have a.
high-toned mock-marriage, all by oursel’s.”

“* And then he’ll take her away, and we'll git:
our money,” Abby said, complacently.
    

30

IN- MORTAL. PERIL.

 

“And a bi pile it’s cost him to keep the girl !

out 0’ his wife’s way, and—what’s that noise?”

For, as the horrible truth flashed over her, a
cold perspiration broke out upon Stella’s face,
and she involuntarily uttered a little, gasping
sound, and her heart seemed to be seized in a
cold, relentless grasp.

sf Rats,” Mrs. Grant explained, composedly,
* the old nest is full of ’em.”

“Fura minit I thought it was somebody a-
listenin’,” Abby said, relievedly.

‘Listenin’! Who'd be a-listenin’? Miss Cari-
zelle and her simple old servant, the on’y
folks there isin the house and they’re busy a-
gittin’ their trunks packed to go away to-mor-
row or the day after. Rich, ain’tit?”’

Mrs. Grant chuckled in cruel ‘delight, and
Stella leahed heavily on Elsbeth’s shoulder sick
and faint with nervous terror.

‘I never see a feller worse gone on anybody
than Mr. Knight’son her. I made bold to re-
xoind him it ‘was a dangerous piece of business
what he’s up to—havin’ a wife in New York,
and a-cheatin’ this girl into a_ mock marriage,
but, lauk, what does he care? He’s done worse’n
that, and he’s one 0’ them sort what don’t stop
till he has his own way.” f

‘¢ It’s been the cleverest thing I ever see man-

aged,” Mrs. Grant said, admiringly. ‘‘ Tothink-

she ain’t never mistrusted a thing.”
Abby curled her coarse lips disdainfully.
‘‘She’s as innocent as a baby,” she said.
“And her old servant's the ignoraritest I ever

‘* Well, they’ll soonknow enough,” Mr. Grant
said, gruffly. ‘‘What a blamed noise them air
rats makes,” he added, suddenly and silently
leaving his chair, and ‘opening the door—dis-
closing Stella and Elsbeth pale and terrified,
cowering over the threshold.

Mrs. Grant and Abby sprung to their feet, ex-
‘citedly, while Mr. Grant smiled sardonically.

‘*Rats,” he said, grimly, in the one second he
stood with the door in his hand.

And then, with a low scream of terror, Stella
turned to run down the hall, followed by Els-
beth, but Grant’s cruel, heavy hand fell on her
slender shoulder, and by main brute force he
dragged her into the kitchen, Elsbeth following
whiteas death, her hands wringing in fear an
apprehension.

“So, you’ve been a-listenin’, have you, eh?
And you’ve learned to:your sat’sfaction as lis-
teners don’t hear no good o’ themsel’s?”

‘He put the question with fierce vexation to
' Stella, as she stood, her sweet face upturned to
his in terrified surprise, her blue eyes fright-
ened and wild, cc full of a haughty courage and
scorn, of which she was totally unconscious,

It was a strange scene. The fair ycung girl
in the midst of her enemies, her one faithful
ally standing behind her, wringing her hands
and breathing hard in her horror for her young
mistress, the two evil-faced women staring at
their prisoners, Grant himself, stern, relentless,
sardonic, with a glare of pitilessness in his eyes
that sent a cold thrill to Stella’s heart, the
generously spread table, and, over all, the fitful
glare ‘of the roaring fire on the hearth, while
without the furious wind shrieked and moaned,
and the storm increased in wildness,

A moment’s silence followed Grant’s coarse
3 h, and then, as if just recollecting herself,

Isbeth dragged a chair forward upon which
Stella sat down, heavily, almost staggeringly,
trembling in every limb.

‘Miss Stella wouldn’t have listened if I
hadn’t heard something first, and went back
‘after her, to let her hear for herself, and—”

‘*S’pose you shes up,” Grant interrupted.
“Tt’s enough that you heard what wasn’t in-

, tended for your ears jest yet, and now, ’s long’s
Fa have heard, you can make the best of it.

ott ‘understand you’re a prisoner here, miss,
and have been all along?”

Stella bowed her head.

“You understand you ain’t at Bonamy, I
reckon, too?”

Although Stella’s heart was beating so fast
that her pulses were like little hot hammers, she
had already attained a remarkable outward
calmness.

“YT heard you say I was not at Bonamy.
Where am I, then?” she asked.

' A tittle hard laugh accompanied Grant’s an-

swer.
“Dye think Iam a fool? I sha’n’t tell you
whére you are!”
ae aor not Mrs. Osmond own this house?” she

- ** No, she don’t own it, and, what’s more, she
never saw it, nor heard tell of it, as'1 know.”

Stella’s voice began to quiver a little, so ut-
terly strange did she realize Grant’s abrupt
answer to her.

“Doés Mrs. Osmond know I am here?” she
asked again.

“No, she don’t know you’re here, and fur
that matter, nobody else knows you’re here but
Mr. Knight and us.” ?

Stella clasped her hands in an agitation she
conlAnd Mr. Knight h osely brought

n Yr. ght has purposely brought us
here! He is my enemy, and I thought he was
my, friend!”

*You’ve hit it square on the head, miss,

 

about him bein’ the party who fetched you
here, and who put us in charge.”

Stella sat several seconds, her sweet face
rowing paler and more horrified as she re-

ected.

“J cannot understand it,” she exclaimed,
piteously. ‘Mr. Knight has always seemed
such a friend of mine, and it is incredible, mon-
strous, that he should have had me lured here,
and made a prisoner. I cannot, I will not be-
lieveit. Itisadream, itmustbeadream. Tell
me, Mr. Grant, it cannot be true that you and

our wife and daughter, with whom I have
ived these past five weeks, who have been so
kind and respectful to me—are my enemies,
— been aiding in this great wrong against
me

She turned her beseeching eyes from one sin-
ister face to another, but there was no answer-
ing eae of compassion.

‘IT don’t know nothing about it, except we
had our orders to keep you here until Mr.
Knight took you away. And although it’s a
beastly shame -you heard what you did, never-
theless you ken settle in your mind it’s true.
He’s a-comin’ with a man what'll make believe
marry you—and you ain’t a-goin’ out 0’ here
afore then. After Mr. Knight comes, he'll take
charge, and I warn you, miss, the more quieter
and reasonabler you are, the better, fur it
won’t make no difference to him.”

Stella arose, haughty and indignant, -

**Come,’Elsbeth, let us return to our rooms,”
she said, calmly, her face wearing a hushed,
gentle look that was strange to see. ‘* We will
pray to God, who is mighty to help. He has
not deserted us. Come.’

Grant laughed brutally.

“Yes, pray, both 0’ you, but you'll find that
Tuesday an Mr. _— tll come, all the same.
Abby, you walk ahead of ’em, and I'll foller be-
hind with a light.”

The little procession returned through the
cold halls and up the dim stairways, to the
rooms that Stella occupied on the upper floor,

“Pll take the keys after this,” Grant said,
grimly. ‘*You’ll have to‘keep your rooms un-
til the boss comes, and Abby itl serve your
meals here to you. I hope-you'll be comfort-
able and content, miss.”

He turned the key, and left them locked
within, and as his and Abby’s footsteps died
away, Stella gave a little sob of mingled relief
and misery, and walked over to one of the win-
cet and peered out into the blinding, stormy
night.

a How unnatural ede deri seems,” she said,
drearily, as she turned away, end began to
walk up and down the floor. | “‘ I cannot believe
but that it is alla cruel dream, Elsbeth! Am I
really Stella Carizelle, who oncée—last summer
was the happiest girl in the world—or”— and
her blue eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed ex-
citedly, ‘is it really true what he said—that
one whom I had lately learned to think was
- ome has—has— Elsbeth! it cannot be

rue

Elsbeth had taken alow seat in the chimney
corner, her honest face pale and troubled.

“T cannot believe that your enemy is Mr.
ree she said, ory ““He has been so
B , he loves you truly, Miss Stella—I mean,

6 said so, and I am sure nothing could be more
perfect than his conduct to you. But—”

Stella paused before the fire, her eyes full of
gloomy woe, ie a curl of keen, womanly con-
tempt on her lovely mouth.

‘*We will not waste our time in speculating,
Elsbeth. There is but one thing to do—to
escape from this place. I dare not let myself
stop to think of what Grant said—we must es-
tae if we die in the attempt.”

he resumed her nervous walk, and Elsbeth
saw the resolute, yee pitiful look on her pale
face, the gleam in her blue eyes, as, for an hour
she kept up the same tireless tread.

Suddenly she paused in front of her servant.

‘* EJsbeth, I do believe it! All my first dis-
trust and dislike of Clifford Knight has come
back to me. I believe he is capable of any-
thing. I believe he’ contemplates this—that—
Grant says, and, Hlsbéth, I would rather fall
from the highest peak out yonder, I would
rather starve and freeze and die out in the storm
than-be found here when he comes on Tuesday!
Elsbeth! We must escape, we must !”

CHAPTER XXXIV.
. UNEXPECTED NEWS.

Despit@ the determination Mr. Severn had
expressed to Claremont that hope must not be
io up, he was conscious of a very hy 2

eeling regarding the probability of finding an
trace of the young girl who had ‘taken suc
strong hold upon his affection.

The day after that upon which, himself,
Claremont and Thomas had had their depress-
ing interview in his library, was a dark, stormy
day, with a bitter north-east wind shrieking and
whirling the snow that fell in a thick, blinding
storm—the storm upon which Stella Carizelle

 

“had stood looking, the evening before, when

her'desperate situation stared her so vividly in
the face.

Mr, Severn bad not gone out of the house that
morning, feeling slightly indisposed, which was

 

a very unusual occurrence with him, but, taken
in connection with the fury of the storm, it
detained him at home and he spent the morning
hours alone in his library, more busy with his
thoughts than he had permitted himself to be
for a long while.

Since he had made up his mind to make Stella
Carizelle his heiress, and had so expressed him-
self to his lawyer, Mr. Severn had been con-
scious of a feeling of relief which he was almost
at a loss to analyze or explain, but that had in
it equally a vague, unpleasant sense of dis-
satisfaction with Sibyl Knight, who would have
been his heiress, and a nameless delight and
pride, mingled with agonized fear, for the sake
of the fair young girl Claremont loved.

Into his grave, serious thoughts a servant in-
truded the announcement that Mr. Thomas
wished to see him, and a few minutes after they
had been engaged in the minor business that
had brought the lawyer, Clifford Knight
sauntered into the library, stopping as he per-
ceived Thomas, and apologizing for his in-
trusion.

But Mr, Severn requested him to remain.

“T am very glad you happened in, Clifford,”
he said, indicating a chair. “There is a little
matter of business I wish to speak about, while
Thomas is here. I a ee are comparative
strangers, are you not? You haven’t seen m,
nephew for several years, Thomas? Clifford,
this is Mr. Thomas, my lawyer. Thomas, Mr.
Knight, my nephew.”

Knight acknowledged the introduction with
a haughty superciliousness, Thomas with a
quiet self-respect and gentlemanliness,

The two were, as Mr. Severn had said, almost
strangers. It had so happened that not for

ears had they seen each other, and Mr.

homas looked keenly at the dark, handsome
face that had such condescension in it as Knight
took his seat, all unconscious of the scrutiny to
which he was being subjected, or the con-
clusions to which the shrewd lawyer was ar-
riving. * :

As Knight sat there, he did not seem to be
the same gay, carelessly-elegant fellow he had
used to be. In place of his olden distinguished
manner, was a restlessness, a cold determina-
tion, an anxiety that seemed continually on the
alert—for a man cannot cherish the ‘evil in his
heart and make its accomplishment the object
of his life, as Clifford Knight did, and yet com-
pletely hide it in his soul—yet not betray at
east some of his wickedness on ‘his face, in his
manner.

And during these days, since he had hidden
Stella Carizelle so securely in the mountain re-
treat, he was never free from the realization
of the awful wrong he contemplated, nor yet
able to sneer at the possible detection of his
crime.

And yet, he never faltered in his determina-
tion to ee the path he had laid
out for himself. He recklessly resolved to put
away from him all thoughts but those of his
own personal gratification, his selfish ends; and,
defeated in his ambitious hope of acquiring the
ownership and mastery of Vincent Place, his
energies and aspirations were now bent toward
securing the heirship of tle Severn estate.

And, looking keenly at him, Thomas’s trained,
shrewd glances read all the evil, the baseness,
the unscrupulousness that left their subtle
marks upon him,

‘Rivers and I had a conversation some time
since on the publed of your financial’ con-
dition, Clifford,” Mr. Severn said, plunging
with his characteristic straightforwardness into
the heart of his subject. ‘‘I understand your
income is inadequate to your wants, now that

ow have married, I presume the information
is correct?”

‘‘My income is not large enough, sir.”

“ Hxactly, and I propose to make some ar-
rangement by which to increase it. 1 can un-
derstand the natural reluctance you feel to liv-
ing on your wife’s money, handsome as her
fortune is, and ample asis herincome. I can
put you ina bf to earn a salary of five thou-
sand a year, under Government employ.”

Knight’s lip curled a little.

“Thanks. I should decline such an offer.
No consideration would induce me to be tied to
office hours and business habits, sir. I would
prefer to get along with what I have, and be
my own master.”

“T am sorry to see you aftaid of honcst
work,” Mr. Severn said, gravely. “TI work
myself as I doubt few men do, and J glory in it.
Of course you are at liberty to pursue your own
course. I regard it my duty to see that you
have a reasonable income, that shall render you
independent of Mrs. Knight. I will settle upon
you three thousand a year, which ought to be
ample, especially as your wife has twenty-five
thousand a year in her own right.”

A sullen look came redly to Knight’s eyes,
that was not unnoticed by Thomas—a look that
only partly betrayed the flash of thought that
swept through Knight’s brain as he realized
that his wife’s pretensions were utterly base-
less, that she had no income whatever, that
gh soon Vincent Place would be closed to
them. re
He knew that unless Mr. Severn offered them

 

een

ja

 
ern

de

 

‘ heart beating so slow]

IN MORTAL PERIL.

34

 

 

@ permanent home, which ‘was very unlikely,
he would have to hire a roof to cover their
heads out of his own income, and at the same
time’support his wife and be’denied his own
selfish ends.

“You are very good,” he said, a little stiffly
and sullenly, after’ the momentary pause dur*
ing which the lawyer was gravely watching
him, ‘‘ but it seems to. me three thousand is a
very small income for a man in my position,
who—”

He had almost piven expression to his
thought, and said—‘‘ who is down in ‘your will
as your heir.”

“And I regard it as ample, considering you
have EY tg to support. Your wife pays
her own bills, keeps her own carriage, and ‘the
estate runs itself, I think you can manage to
pay your tailor, keep» your coupé, and indulge
in many luxuries on your income, but. if you
can’t, you must deny yourself until you can.
Thatiis ali I shall do for the present.”

Knight became suddenly conscious that Mr:
‘Thomas was watching him keenly, and he grew
uneasy beneath the grave, persistent regard;

“T certainly will make it answer, sir, and I
am very grateful,” he said, summoning all his
courteous grace. ‘‘And now I -will retire, if
you do not need me any longer.”

He had only io spoken the words when a
servant entered the room, bearing a telegram
which he handed to Knight, who instantly
grew curiously pale, yet restrained his agita-
tion marvelously, for he instantly surmised the
dispatch was from Grant.

“A message from Washington, I think. You
will pardon me,” he said, carelessly as he could,
and signed the messenger’s book before he tore
the yellow envelope open. aes

There was'a single word, and it was signed

“*G.,” but the word sent such a thrill of amaze-

ment and horror and anger and disappointment
and fear through him that he could not, to have
saved his soul, restrain the exclamation that
rose involuntarily to his lips—an exclamation
neither Mr. Severn nor Thomas understood, al-
though his face betrayed his intense, yet brief
agitation, for, awfully conscious of the law-
yer’s keen gaze, he made a desperate effort to
regain his self-control.

‘I have—lost—an investment,” he said, “‘ and
being a poor man I will feel it, .You will ex-
cuse me, now.” ;

He bowed himself out, his limbs almost re-
fusing to carry him, his brain in “a’whirl, his
he'was faint, as he
looked again at the single word in the telegram,
that meant so awfully much for him, the one
word Grant had dispatched two hours before—
the word “‘ —- r

Mr. Thomas followed Knight as far as he
could see him, and ‘then turned with a quiet
smile to Mr. Severn. ;

‘Mr. Knight is nota man to take an unlucky
speculation to heart. That telegram contained
other news; and unless I ami very much mis-
taken, it isconnected with the mystery we are
trying to unearth. And I intend to know,” he
said, his face suddenly lighting up.

Mr. Severn looked at. him, in utter amaze-
ment, }

‘*Thomas! You don’t mean to say—”

“JT mean to say nothing at present,” he an-
swered, quietly. ‘‘In a day or so I will tell
you if I am at last on the right track.”

He took his leave, and Mr. Severn walked up
and down the library, his grand forehead cor-
rugated to’ a mass of thoughtful wrinkles,
his blue eyes stern’ and puzzled; grave and
anxious. :

A little half-timid tap at the door interrupted
his thoughts, and Mrs. Osmond ‘looked in, her
handsome face smiling and coaxing’as a young
girl’s might have been.

‘It is so lonely, uncle—may I:come in‘a little
while?) I will not disturb’ you in the least—and
I do so love to be where you are.”

She walked’ up to him, a charming little af-
fectation in her manner that instantly repulsed
him, and which he pretended not to see.

‘You may come in, Olga,” he said, Gravely.
‘Tam not engaged at this moment; Thomas.
has just left me.”

She took a‘seat-on a sofa between the win-
dows, and looked interested and animated.

“JT knew your lawyer was here, or I-would
have come before,” she said. ‘* Lam so anxious
to know if there is any news from Miss Cari-
zelle.. Have you any clew yet?”

‘“We have not,” he answered,’ briefly; con-
tinuing his walk up and down; and struggling
against the old consciousness of keen distrust
and almost dislike of her.

‘T would not know anything about it if you
did not tell me,” she went on, in a sad little
plaint. ‘* Roy seems to make it his business to
avoid me—I wonder if he means to give up all
his friends because he has lost one?”

‘¢ Roy-has his hands and his heart full, with-
out spending his time dawdling in parlors. He
is in oe in his search, poor fellow.” °

Olga lookedsympathetic and sorry, but she
said nothing—in her heart she was bitterly ea-

r to know that some terrible fate, some aw-

ly foul play had indeed befallen Stella Cari-.
zelle, and it was the knowledge that all efforts

 

to find her had proved so pitiably unsuccessful
that gave her renewed hope from -~ to day
that the girl was actally removed from her way.

Mr. Severn suddenly paused just opposite to

her.

‘*Now that oo are here, I will speak to you
again about Jerome Welsh. You remember I
told you some time ago I had heard rumors
very discreditable to a that you
were’ to marry him. ou denied’ the charge,
emphatically, and I believed you. But the
news is gaining again, and it does not suit me
to hear it.”

He looked at her keenly.

“T keg of you to deny it everywhere,” she
returned, emphatically. ‘“‘I cannot imagine
how such a disgraceful rumor could obtain—the
idea of my marrying a man once employed by
my husband as a servant, and now in your ser-
vice:

Her indignation seemed honest as the day,
but Mr. Severn still regarded her with keen
scrutiny. f .

“*Tt hurts me to have you, of all people, think
I should so far forget myself as to marry be-
neath myself, as I certainly should do if I mar-
ried Mr. Welsh. He has been very kind and
attentive to me, but it is with the kindness
and attention of a privileged employé. I would
not contract a marriage that would be distaste-

.ful to you, even if my dearest wishes were

thwarted. Besides,” and'she drooped her head
prettily, and blushed delicately, ‘‘ you forget
you know my secret, uncle. our wish and
mine are identical with regard to my cousin
Roy. Ilove him, and Ido not despair of your
old plans for us being realized. After a while,
when his grief for Miss Carizelle shall have
worn off, and he accepts the fact of her death,
it may be your well-known wishes will have ef-
fect upon him.”

His stern blue eyes were reading her face
closely.

-“Itis extremely doubtful that he will pur-
sue any such course, although he can do as he
chooses, I shall decline to use my influence.
When I conscientiously believed Miss Carizelle
to be a bold, scheming girl, I tried to save Clare-
mont from her by a marriage with you. But,
now that I know what Miss Carizelle really is,
how sweet and pure and modest and every way
worthy she is, I should feel a contempt for him
I could not express if he preferred you—if he
married you, knowing her to be dead.”

Her cheeks flushed at the stern, bitter words.

“You are courteous.”

‘*T am not.complimentary—that is what you
mean. But Iam truthful, and you are not al-
ways that, Olga.”

Her eyes flashed’ with the rising anger she
could not conceal. ‘

“You add insult to injury! I am incapable‘

of false—”

Her indignant protest was eee the
entrance into the library of Jerome Welsh;
easy, smiling, Se but with a curious
gleam in his eyes that sent a thrill of vague ap-
prehension to Olga’s heart.

Mr. Severn returned his familiar bow with a
cold salutation. é

‘“We were speaking of you, Mr. Welsh,” Mr.
Severn said, with chilling courtesy. ‘I was
telling Mrs; Osmond of the absurd rumors in
circulation of a reported engagement of mat-
riage between you and herself. Will you for-
mally give me your authority to contradict
them?”

Welsh glanced at Olga, and read on every
feature of her face her imperative command to
eerie, with Mr. Severn’s request.

“No contradiction is necessary, my dear sir,”
he said, easily, “‘as I'am happy to inform you
that the reports are accurately correct. | Olga,
my dear, tell Mr. Severn of the little surprise
that awaits him—that.I will very soon have the
honor and pleasure of being his nephew by
marriage and your husband!’ ‘

 

CHAPTER XXXV.
FROM DARK TO DAWN.

TnE early part of the evening in their warm,
cosey sitting-room, which had ‘so suddenly
been transformed into a visible prison, passed
in strange quiet to Stella and her faithful old
servant.

No words were exchanged’ between them af-
ter that passionate» outburst of Stella, but she
epritihuel her thoughtful proménade for some
time, her blue eyes burning, her young heart
growing more determinedly defiant every mo-
ment, while Elsbeth sat in her low, wide chair

in the: chimney corner, looking with jealous ‘

concern at the slender bev walking so quietly
up.and down, with hands cl d and drooping
down, and head bowed toward her breast.

“T think I have’ decided what we will do,
Elsbeth,” she said, at length, halting in her walk
at the servant’s side. ‘To remain here is abso-
lutely impossible, and although to get away
seems almost as impossible, yet I shall risk it.
At first Iwas torpid with despair, now I am
wr with the energy of desperation.”

Elsbeth looked wonderingly at the pale, reso-

late young face. »
““What is it you will do, Miss Stella? What-

-and all lights out.

 

ever it may be, I will help you, if you tell me
to plunge off the house-top.””

faint little smile curved Stella’s drooping
mouth, and she gently Paes the rough hands
that were so hopelessly wringing and twirl-

ing.

you must not give way to your feelings,

Elsbeth, or our attempt will fail. We need to
be brave and strong and resolute if we mean to
escape. And the only way I’can see to do it is
to lower ourselves from the window to the
ground.”
. She gave a little shiver as she said this, for
both she and Elsbeth knew how far it was to
the ground below, and, as she spoke, the wind
shrieked and shook the house as if in warning
protest.

‘But where is the rope, Miss Stella? And—”

‘‘We must manufacture our own rope,” she
said, stoutly.. “‘ We will cut our bedclothes and
blankets, and if necessary our superfluous
—< into strips and knot them together.
We will fasten the rope around the bedstead
and dressing-case, and lower ourselves as well
as we can.” ;

“But we can never get down such & ladder,
Miss Stella! We will miss our hold, we will be
dashed to pieces on the'rocks! Oh, Miss Stella,
can ion not invent another way?”

“7 thought you said you would plunge off
the house-top, Elsbeth, rather than have me re-
main here,” she said, in gentle reproach.

“And I'd rather than trust my two hundred
pounds to a rope like that! But I'll do it, Miss
Stella—forgive me if I was afraid.”

“ There is no other way,” Stella said, thought-
~~ “Grant will take extra precautions
with the locks and bars now. .We must get
away by means of the window, or not at all.
No one will imagine we would even think of
trying to get away on such a terrible night, and
we can feel: almost sure of not being caught.
We have no time to lose, Elsbeth. i is now
half-past eight, and at nine they will be in bed
Let us begin at once.”

She immediately began to set the example.
She hurried into the bedroom ‘and’ brought
forth the thick comfortables and blankets and
counterpanes and sheets, while Elsbeth cut
them into the desired strips. Then they braided
them into a strong rope, and fastened the end
securely around the massive walnut bedstead
and marble-slabbed dressing-case, and raising
the window, lowered the other end to the
ground below, where it swayed in the wind like
@ lily stem in a storm.

For a moment a fresh. thrill of fear swept
over Stella as she tried to peer through the pale
gloom of the blinding storm, and realized with
a shudder how fearful the dangers were that
awaited her out in the wild night.

“T will commit my way unto God,” she said,
after a second’s struggle with herself. “‘‘ Surely
He has not deserted me. And if it is to be ”—
and she compressed her lips in stern, yet prayer-
ful resignation—‘‘ it would be far better than
to be here on Tuesday.”

She closed the window on the thick, soft rope,
and turned almost cheerfully to Elsbeth.

“Now let us dress for our journey. It is
half-past. nine, and we must be off. Put on
your thickest, warmest clothes, Elsbeth, and be
quick as ou can, for I fancy the wind is
abating somewhat, and we will take advantage

-of it.” é

She hastened to her room, while Elsbeth re-
tired to hers, and in fifteen or twenty minutes
both reappeared, Stella in a thick suit of brown
flannel, over which she wore a’ worsted jacket
beneath a long wadded and lined cloth sacque.
Over her little felt hat she had secured a blue
knitted hood, and she wore thick blue mittens
and leggings, and warm, fleece-lined arctics,
while Elsbeth was also warmly attired in a
thick cloak and muffler and gloves and arctics.

‘Tam ready,” Stella said, gravely, as she re-
assured herself that her pocket-book was safely
on her person. _‘‘Come, Elsbeth, let-us go.”

“And so am I ‘ready to go, Miss Stella,” she
erquncedal, solemnly. ‘‘But where are we go-
ing?” ;
tella made no answer, but a hushed look
came in her’eyes.

“You.may descend first if you wish,” she
said, as shesoftly opened. the window. ' “You
must cling tothe rope with your legs, Elsbeth,
and let yourself down slowly and carefully,
hand over hand. If you keep cool, there is not
any danger, fore the cords are strong, and no
one will hear while the wind wails so. Shall
you go first?”

‘‘Tf you say so,yet the good Lord knows it
is all blind faith,” she said, desperately, and
then, without stopping to look down, followed
Stella’s sensible directions, and committed her-
self to the swaying, swinging. ladder, and in a
moment was hidden from sight by the thick
snow-flakes,

Stella waited; calm and collected, for the sig-
nal from the ground that Elsbeth had reached
it, and then, when the’ violent shaking of the
rope announced that fact, she stepped out, and
swung herself lightly off and like some spirit
slid and swayed out of sight.

At the bottom, Elsbeth caught her, with an
ecstatic whisper of gratitude, :
 

82

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

Fk “Thank God, Miss: Stella—oh, thank God we
are over with that part of it,” she gasped,
panting and trembling so that Stella pitied her.

“Yes, I thank God we are outside the walls
of our prison, even though it be in the storm
and amid dangers on every hand,” she said, her
sweet voice full of unspeakable pathos. ‘‘ And
now, let us take the path we always took when
we walked out with Abby. It willlead to the
wagon-road, and we must find our way down to
the village somehow.”

Through the drifts of snow, that’ were three
feet high, Stella bravely plunged, slowly and
surely, Elsbeth following laboriously, until they
struck the road, which oer knew by the
ce of stunted bushes that lined it on either
side,

Not‘a word was uttered, for each was hoard-
ing her strength for the ordeal. before them.
S.ella’s eyes were shining like stars and her ™
were set firmly together as she resolutely
plowed her way through the unbroken path,
and for fully half an hour they kept on their
way, until, suddenly, they came upon a place
where the wind had blown all the snow off the
road, and left it almost bare.

There they halted and rested, and Elsbeth
handed Stella a little flask of brandy.

“ve had it by me ever since we left_New
York, fearing sudden sickness. Take.a swallow,
Miss Stella, it will give you warmth and
strength.”

Stella took a mouthful of the stimulant, and,
as Elsbeth had said, it sent a warm, brisk glow
all over her.

“How thoughtful you are,” she said, grate-
fully. ‘‘Take some yourself, Elsbeth, and then
let us be going. For a long way the road
seems clear of drifts, and I think the storm is
ceasing.”

To their — surprise and. gratitude, they
found that for two or three miles the road was
comparatively clear, and, buoyed up by des-
peration and determination, they walked
steadily along, alone with the silent loneliness
of night in the Catskills,

The wind was abating and the storm gradual-
ly ceased, and by the time they had traveled
several miles, the clouds had broken and: the
moon was struggling through them, revealing
in awful vividness, the solitariness and grandeur
of the surroundings. 5

But five or six miles through snow and cold
was telling on them both, aud more than once
Stella was forced tostop, with her hands pressed
on her breast to quiet the sharp pain that shot
through her heart.

‘* We havo come out into this awful place to
be starved and frozen to death,” Elsbeth wailed,
all her courage forsaking her at signs of Stella’s
giving out.

“We must not give up as easily as that,” she
said, with a wan little smile. ‘I am not cold
at all, only tired with such an unusual walk,
If we could only find a place to stop and rest a
little while.” :

“Tf we only could!” Hisbeth responded, bit-
terly, ‘‘I ‘can stand it, but you will not. Oh,
Miss Stella, what shall we do now?”

tan right on. I feel rested now and de-
termined to go ahead; Don’t you remember,
Elsbeth, the day we came up this road, we
spoke of ashanty just where the Bonamy road
diverged from the main road? It cannot be far
from here. I remember that group of pines
yonder.”

They paused on the little knoll off which the
wind had blown the snow as thoroughly as if it
had been swept. Down below them. the main
road wound in serpentine curves, outlined b
the fen poles that stretched in a dar!
dim line. Here and there were drifts of snow,
and all around them it lay thick and white,
Tbe wind was blowing gently, and the bare tree
branchesswayed with a weird, wailing sound,
while over all the gloom and uncanniness of the
scene the moon shone pale and cold.

“God preserve us,” Elsbeth murmured, de-
spairingly, as she looked about her fearfully,
aud then followed the glance of Stella’s eyes.

“Yonder is a light, the first we have seen,”
* she said, in a hushed, quiet voice, almost as if
she hardly dared credit the evidence of her,
senses. '‘We will get to it, Elsbeth—to
warmth and light and rest. Come! Be brave,
Be Srpeotane gaat a little longer, dear old Els-

th!

As Stella had said, down in the valley below
a light gleamed steady and vivid, and with
their hopes set, upon it, they toiled persistent!
along, now slipping on some treacherous spot,
now struggling on eens drifts knee-deep,
now climbing down a sudden steep little de-
scent where a false step would have n death
but ever up and on, God’s. angels Te and
leading, until, after seven miles of travel
through the me of the night and storm, after
nearly eight hours’ awful fatigue and terrible
mental strain, they knocked at the door of the
little cabin, — before the early dawn was ris-
ing gray and dim in the east.

CHAPTER XXXVL
A DECISIVE MOVE.
Tue look on Mr. Severn’s face as Jerome
Welsh uttered bis easy, smiling declaration was

 

one-of incredulousness and anger’, mingled with -

a contemptuousness that would have withered
more sensitive natures than those before him,
He stared steadily at Welsh, while Olga, com-
pletely oe at Welsh’s audacity, lost all
control of herself; and. went into hysterics.

For a moment no one spoke, after that bland
declaration of Welsh’s that had come so
promptly after Olga’s indignant protestations
to the contrary; then Mr. Severn broke the
silence, in sharp, caustic tones.

“TJ do not understand what you mean, I think.
If you mean what you say, you have a most
unparalleled audacity in mentioning such a
thing, which you are perfectly aware I would
not countenance.”

Olga’s gasping sobs received no . attention
from either of the two standing looking at each
other.

“Then, sir, I take it that you do not approve
of the marriage?” Mr. Welsh asked, quietly, his
face calm and impassive as a statue.

“ Approve! If Mrs. Osmond so far degrades
herself as to marry you, it will at once and for-
ever shut my doors upon her. Approve! Your
audacity is astonishing. ‘Approve’ of a mar-
ring? with you!”

r. Severn’s words did not begin to express
the jndignation and scormhe felt, but tne frosty
shine of his blue eyes, the ring of his voice be-
trayed what his courtesy forbade him to say.

e glanced at Olga, lying back .on the sofa.
sobbing and gasping hysterically, and it seemed
to him that all his half-slumbering dislike of
her, the suspicions of her of which he never
could divest himself; awoke’ with redoubled
strength, He was enraged at her lying deceit-
fulness, and he was conscious of the passionate
rage against her that amounted almost to posi-
tive hatred.

** Allow me to remind you, Mr. Severn, what
you seem to have forgotten, that I am a gentle-
man by birth and education, and therefore—”

“The accident of ‘your, birth or, the fact of
your educat.on are subjects of indifference to
me,” Mr. Severn interrupted, coldly. ‘* I know
what is enough for me to know, and that is you
were a bosom friend and. confidant of Field
Osmond, who was the greatest scoundrel I ever
knew, You were his chief friend, socially, and
his chief counselor, financially, as it seems you
are also to his widow, whom you have con-
cluded, it seems, to marry, notwithstanding her
solemn and. indignant asseverations to the con-
trary, made a moment before you entered the
room, Perhaps, morally, neither_of you could
make a better choice, but, if Mrs. Osmond
marries you, I decline her acquaintance. And,
you will make your arrangements for leaving
my house and my service as soon as sible.
You will recollect I employed you at Olga’s in-
stance, and against my. own judgment, and I
will gladly dispense with your services.”

Welsh smiled insolently, and Olga, recovered
from her hysterics, and half-frantic at the turn
affairs were taking, sprung from the lounge as
Mr, Severn started to leave the library, and
looked imploringly at Welsh. pdgt

‘‘Leave the room, do,” she said, in an ago-
nized undertone to Welsh. ‘“ Yoware spoiling
everything. Go, right away, and leave uncle
to. me.” '

Welsh’s sardonic smile did not leave his face,
He looked at Olga with an expression that made
her blood curdle, but made not the slightest
motion toward obeying her.

“One moment, if you please, Mr. Severn,”
he said, with grave suavit; 7, 28 Mr. Severn’s
hand. was on the door-knob—“ Olga wishes me
to add her pleading to. mine, My dearest, can
you not Reupiade your, uncle to look kindly
upon our little romance? Tell him how dearly
you love me, my dearest, and—” |

Olga staggered back to the sofa, with a low
ery of perfect horror, at the audacious impu-
dence of his'words, and covered her face with
her hands, while Mr. Severn ended the suave
flow of words b Seer leaving the room.

Welsh coolly.thrust his hands in his =
and took up his position directly in front of
Olga, who was indulging in a renewed burst of
hysterics, from which, after several minutes,
she struggled to @ sitting position, her cheeks
crimson with anger and fury, her dark.eyes
nes with the unbridled evil passions of

er heart. 3

“So ~— are ready to explain all of this re-
markable scene, Olga,” he said, at last. :

. She did not answer him, but tapped her jew-
eled fingers in angry rage upon the sofa pillow.

He stood regarding her with an unmoved, au-
thoritative air that he meant should, and which
certainly did, indicate his masterfulness over
her,

“I beg to know why you denied to Mr. Sey-
ern that you were engaged to marry me?”

She darted him. an angry glance.

“‘ You agreed that our engagement was to be
kept a secret~—and you have discovered for
yourself how necessary such an afrangement
was, You have ruined everything.. He will
close his doors upon me, he will cut off the hand-
some allowance he makes me—and all through
your stupidity.”

“Don’t use harsh words, my dear,” he said,
politely. ‘‘I don’t care if he does cut off your

 

allowance, for [have money enough of my own,
and I think you know I love 7 for your own.
charming self. So that is of no consequence.
As far as his withdrawing his countenance from.
us, that isa matter of regret. His favor and
friendship is worth more than money. He is
high insocial position, a power among the great:
men of, the day, financial: and political. His
favor can open the doors of the best houses in
society to us, and his disfavor can close them
upon us, Iam sorry if we are to be ostracised.
because—”

She interrupted him, angrily:

“You have brought it all upon yourself!
Why did you declare our engagement to him?
Why did you provoke him to the very course
you-deprecate?” ‘

He looked steadily in her flashing eyes.

“Because, Olga, I am tired of waiting for

ou. We have been engaged a long while.

ou promised to marry'me between the holi-
days, and they have passed, feel I am tired
of waiting for Mr. Severn’s favor, which T see
now is unattainable, I have been pursuing the
shadow while I have let the substance escape
me. I shall wait no longer.”

“We have waited on account of—Stella Cari-
zelle,” she said, in a low, intense voice. ‘I told
you I would never marry you while there was.
anything to fear from her.’ ;

_“ There is nothing to fear from her. Al-
though we have no itive proof that she is
dead, we know that the most expert detectives
in New York, backed by’no end of money and.
uiged by motives of deepest personal interest
have failed to bring her to light, which coul
not have been the case-were she on: the: face of
the earth. I have watched the proceedings of
the past few weeks most carefully and am con-
vinced that some fateful accident has done for
us what'we would have ourselves accomplished.”

“But the agreement was that no marriage
should take place until I had the proof positive
of my safety., I—”

He interrupted her, with a fierce impetuous-
ness he had not yet shown during the: inter-
view:

‘You have put me off from time to time with
excuses that I will no longer listen to, You
lack your usual wisdom in deferring our mar-
riage from any such cause as that you have
mentioned, because, if I become your husband,
our interests are identical, and I will be in a po-
sition to protect you in case of any possible de-
velopments. . That—”

‘* But—” she interrupted, desperately.

He went on, less fiercely, but with a persist-
ent resoluteness that was impressing her with a
horrid sense of her helplessness:

“We will not argue the matter, ‘The time has
passed for a renewal of reasonable or unréason-
able excuses. Our engagement: is already an-
nounced to Mr. Severn; and it shall be: an-
nounced to the world at once.”

‘Mr, Welsh—” she commenced, but ‘he ges-
tured her to be quiet, as he continued:

“This is the fifteenth of January, and the
marriage shall take place just one month from
to-day! Ihavesubmitted to your whims, and
allowed you to put me off indefinitely. You
have pr your time to suit yourself, and have
wasted more thought inscheming to getrid of me
and securing Mr, Claremont-than is altogether
the thing, while I have come.in and gone out of
this house, a hired employe, only tolerated in
the social circles in which Lintend hereafter to
bea qporet. Despite your uncle’s haughty an-
ger, will triumph. You have beauty and
style and are the center of a circle from which
I am inclined to believe, the more I think cf: it,
Mr. Severn cannot remove you. Ihave ample
wealth, and my home shall be luxurious and
elegant, and, with you at the head of my table,
I shall be the most envied as well as the

roudest, happiest man in New York, my dear

liga) We will be married on February fif-
teenth.”

He delivered his decision as though it were a
decree of destiny. Mrs. Osmond’s face grew
livid with fear and disgust, anger and hatred.
The prospect of a marriage with him was ap-
pallingly odious, and humiliating beyond ex-
pression.

In direct proportion as she despised and
loathed Jerome Welsh, she worshiped Roy
Claremont, and had: by no means given up her
fervent hope of winning him. As she had said
to Mr. Severn, she did not despair of winning
his love after he had given up all hope of Stella.
Carizelle, and in the face ‘of_the strong self-as-
surance this persistency of Welsh’s claims hor-
rified and frightened her.

She would not marry him, she would not, she
told herself, passionately, as she had done in
the early days of his courtship. She would'die
— han be his wife, she would do any
thing.

And then she remembered those dark and
terrible schemes she had considered when there
had seemed no immediate release from her» be-
trothal to him. .

She looked at him, a glittering light in her
dark eyes, a strange line gathering about ber
mouth.

‘‘T cannot understand why you wish to
marry me when you know the idea is so dis-

—

‘~

a mt

 

Se

 

 
 

rant

|
}
|
|

 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

33

 

 

tastetul to me, when you know I do not love

you, or—”
His low sneering laugh cut her to the very
quick.

‘Your reluctance to marry me is not very
flattering to me, Olga, and it is just possible
you may go a step too far, and force me, in my
revenge, to punish you after our marriage for
what you do before. People willsee you are an

, unwilling wife, and will naturally wonder why,

and conclude I had some hold upon you, which
suspicion would afford a clew to some transac-
tions you would not care to have divulged.”

She shivered and shrunk away with such per-
ceptible loathing that Welsh’s face darkened
with terrible passion,

“Thave appointed the day,” he said, hoarse-
ly. ‘Do you intend to submit, and proceed
with your preparations, and have @ fashionable
marriage at Trinity church, or—do you choose
to defy me, and md what would have been
your honeymoon in a cell in the Tombs? You
may take your choice, and abide by it.”

“IT choose to marry you,” she sai1, huskily.

*¢ And you choose well. Now, my dear,” and
the sudden change in voice, face and manner
‘was as marvelous as repulsive, “I will at once
attend to the little matter of the engagement
bracelet. 1 will go to Tiffany, who has your
measure, and select the most recherché article
in the establishment, and when I see the little
golden key hanging on my watch chain, I shall
indeed be happy. Afterward, I shall make my
arrangements for rooms at the Belmont until
we take possession of our own home. Au re-
voir, my dearest.”

He bowed, and lifted her cold hand to his
lips, and went away, and as the door closed
upon him, Olga sprung to her feet, and all her
repressed passion leaped to her eyes, her mouth,
and she walked to and froin quick, impetuous
movements.

““Did ever any one hate another as I hate
him? I willnever marry him. The announce-
ment may be made, but I will never marry
him. Hither he or I will not be alive on the
fifteenth day of February. I will play my last
eard—I will see Roy Claremont as soon as pos-
sible, before the report of this affair reaches
him—and then—I will make my ‘ preparations’
—preparations of which he little dreams!”

he left the library and returned to her own
room, and after calming herself somewhat, sat
down and wrote a note to Mr. Claremont re-
questing him to see her that evening and at
once dispatched it by a servant to his hotel.

Then, with her face pale and livid, she un-
locked a secret drawer in her writing-desk, and
took from it a small vial that lay there, and
smiled curiously as she placed it inside the cor-
sage of her dress.

“*Now, Mr. Jerome Welsh,” she said to her-
self, as she moved over to the window, “‘ we
will see who lives to see the weddin -day you
have appointed. One of us will be dead when
the fifteenth of February comes. This little
bottle will never leave my possession night nor
day, until its mission is accomplished!”

 

CHAPTER XXXVILI.
OUT OF THE NET.

TuE little cabinsituated in such a drearily
desolate location about half-way up the moun-
tain road to the cottage of the Grants, seemed
to Stella and Elsbeth as the cities of refuge
must have seemed to the children of Israel ‘of
old, and despite its forlorn, dilapidated condi-
tion, was the blessedest sight that had ever met
their eyes, for it meant the sight of a human
face that was not the face of an enemy, it
meant shelter, at the least, and rest and aid.

Stella’s imperative knock on the door was an-
swered, after what seemed an endless delay,
and the rude door opened by an elderly man,
whose face was wide-eyed with amazement at
the summons he had heard, for, in all the years
ho had lived in the hut among the mountains,
there never had been a knock on his door, night
nor day, during the long, cold winters.

He stood staring in speechless amazement,
and then, as if doubting the evidence of his
senses, rubbed his eyes in increasing astonish-
ment, asif still believing himself the victim of
a delusion. :

“Will you let us come in and give us shelter
and rest for awhile, sir?’ Stella asked, her
sweet, anxious voice ee: as she leaned
wearily against the rude door-post. ‘‘ We have
been traveling all night, and are very tired.”

For a second it seemed as if he were dum-
founded. Ue stared, and then, as if only just
recognizing the fact that it was no delusion,
but an actual reality, that two women stood
before him, and one of them young and beyond
doubt a lady born and bred, he touched his
shock of tumbled hair in an awkward salute of
respect. J

““You can stop and welcome, though it’s no
place for a leddy, ma’am.”

He threw the door wider open, and Stella
saw the one room, where the lamp whose rays
she had seen far up the mountain, shone cheer-
fully bright.

‘We shall be so grateful for any shelter for
a little while,” she said, almost gladly ;

 

“Then come right in, both 0” you. It’s clean
and warm, and that’s about all.”

** And enough. Oh, it is delicious, delicious,”
Stella said, as, following him in, she saw the
crackling fire in the rude open hearth, the
sanded floor, the old-fashioned wooden settee
with a calico cushion and pillow upon it, the
big Boston rocker, the narrow cot-bed from
which the solitary occupant of the cabin had
arisen to answer the knock.

‘““You’re welcome to it, sech as it is. It’s
comfortabler’n out-doors.”

He threw an armfu) of dried pine upon the
blazing fire, and the spicy, balmy era
and warmth seemed infinitely sweet to Stella,
as she sunk wearily down in the rocking-chair
Elsbeth pusued up near the hearth. She drew
a wooden stool beside her yorrg mistress and
seated herself, holding out icr chilled feet
toward the heat, while, standing back, the host
of the rude hospitality regarded them with
wonder and surprise.

That one was mistress and the other servant
was very apparent to him, but why they should
be among the mountains, unattended, on foot,
at that hour, in the storm, was unpreceden
—so strangely unprecedented, that he was un-
able to overcome the suspicion thet grew upon

him.

As if Stella intuitively knew his thoughts,
she turned around in her chair and looked at
him with ler calm, grave eyes, that were so
pure and beautiful.

“T think we owe you an explanation of our
strange intrusion upon you,” she said, with a
gentle dignity that was most impressive, ‘‘ For
the past five weeks I and my servant have been
living in a house far up the mountains, where a
family named Grant arein charge. We supposed
we were at a place called Bonamy, and only
learned last night, by overhearing a conversa-
tion between Grant and his family, that we had
been brought to the house by a secret enemy of
mine, who desired us kept there until an ap-
pointed time. The Grants are in the paid in-
terest of the man who is my enemy, and we at
once made our escape, and have come this far.
Will you out us until we reach a safer

i

place? Will you befriend and assist usif Grant
pursues us?”
He listened gravely.

“Tt’s a strange story, ma’am, a strange story.
I’ve lived in this hut fer nigh onto twenty

ears, fishin’ and gunnin’ in season, and doin’ a
Httle trappin’ in the winter, but it’s the first
time I ever knowed them Grants up there to
keep open house in the winter.”

“You do not disbelieve my story, I hope,”
Stella said, gently.

He scratchéd his head meditatively.

‘No, I don’t know’s I do. But it’s mighty
strange. How ever you come down that there
mountain-path in all the storm, with the drifts
and the slides and the wind—”

He paused, as if he could not credit the story.

“‘¥ told you,” Stella said, gravely. ‘ But
you have not answered my question. Will you
Boe us‘if Grant comes in pursuit of us?

ill you assist us to reach the nearest village
b ie there is communication with New

ork?

‘“While you’re in Jack McFarlane’s shanty
you're safe and sound,” he said, heartily, after
a moment’s hesitation. ‘‘ And now, the best
thing fer you to do is to have some steamin’ hot
coffee and a br’il o’ meat, I’ll have it ready in
a jiffy, fer I’m powerful fond of good hearty
eatin’, and I have it, too, if I do live like a her-
mit up here.”

He went quietly and intelligently to work,
and as neatly and rapidly as the most house-
keeperly woman could have done, had a break-
fast of hot broiled ham, fried potatoes, steam-
ing coffee and prepared-flour biscuits on the
table. He gave Stella the one cup and saucer
and plate and Elsbeth made good use of a tin
mug and platter.

After the wholesome, appetizing meal, Els-
beth prevailed upon Stella to lie down upon the
settee and try to get a little seer:

‘“‘T will watch by you, Miss Stella,” she said.
affectionately. ‘‘Itis not yet six o’clock, and
ae have not discovered our escape yet. It
will be several hours before they can overtake
us, and if you can get a rest of a couple of
hours, we will be away from here in time.”

Weary and aching in ory limb, yearning
for sleep and rest, Stella yielded to Elsbeth’s
solicitations, and laid herself down to sleep,
carefully covered by Elsbeth’s warm shawl,
while the old servant drew the rocking-chair
up beside the couch, and dozed and watched al-
lat ig

Jack McFarlane went gules. about the room,
his attention seemingly occupied with his
homely duties, in reality wholly absorbed by
the strangeness of the incident that had be-
fallen bim, and, while he was not wanting in
respect for the lovely, well-bred young girl, he
was conscious of a feeling of uncertainty re-
garding her story. Not that hedisbelieved her,
but, bis judgment was rapidly telling him that
although the two strange guests believed their
own story, it was the pitiful imagination of a
disordered mind.

“From all I can understand,” he said to him-

 

sell, they’re not in their right mind. I can’t
bring myself to believe no such goin’s on, as
they tell of up to Grant’s place.”

His big, bald forehead was wrinkled in
heavy frowns as he went outside and smoked
his pipe, leaning thoughtfully against the house,
while within, Stella slept soundly, worn out by
fatigue and anxiety, watched over by faithful
old Elsbeth, whose frequent little naps were
with one eye open.

Meanwhile, at the house up in the mountains,
where Stella had so ine. been a prisoner, Grant
and his wife and daughter had just made the
astounding discovery of the escape of their
prisoners, and for awhile the greatest excite-
ment and consternation prevailed.

After a little, however, Grant’s dogged cool-
ness returned, and he at onceset out in pursuit
of the fugitives, incredible asit seemed to him
it was that they had dared to risk their lives by
the mountain path in the night and during the
storm, when, by daylight, and in fair weather,
it was dangerous enough in the winter season.

But, since they had gone, beyond the shadow
of a doubt, and since there was only the one
way of getting away, it was a self.evident fact
that, despite the storm, the danger, the dark-
ness, Stella and her servant had risked it, and
Grant had no choice but to follow them.

Hastily taking his breakfast, he wrapped
himself well, and started, alarmed, furiously
enraged, and full of relentlessness against the
brave girl who had outwitted him.

Familiarity with the road, and his superior
strength, the fact of the day being well broken
Grant made more rapid progess than Stella an
Elsbeth had done, and in five hours after he had
started, and while Stella and Elsbeth wero
sleeping soundly and heavily, he came up to the
cabin door where McFarlane was chopping
wood in the sunshine.

‘Hello, Jack!” he said, familiarly, ‘‘have
you seen anything of two women along here,
traveling alone? A young one and an old one?”

McFarlane looked quietly up at Grant’s eager,
flushed face.

“Two women, travelin’ on their own hook?
And what of it?”

“A darned sight, I can tell you. They’ve
escaped from my place up there—two feeble-
minded women, what’s been stoppin’ with me
for awhile. I don’t mind tellin’ you, Jack, as
how I turned a pretty penny consentin’ to make
my house into a lunatic asylum for awhile, by
doctor’s orders, And them women escaped
last night, and I want’em. Ain’t youseen’em?”

McFarlane stuck his ax into a block of wood,
thoughtfully.

““Lunytics, eh? Well, I thought as much.”

“Then they’re—inside? I expected they’d
fetch up here, though the Lord knows how ever
they clim down the path alive.”

“Yes, they’re inside, and sound asleep, poor
crazy creatur’s! I couldn’t make out head or
tail to their story about being prisoners at your
place, and havin’ a secret enemy, and soon. I
promised I’d look after ’em, Grant, and—”

“Of course you promised ’em that—any man
would. And the greatest kindness you could
do’ be to help ’em back where they’re well
cared for until other arrangements is made. I
don’t quite like it, I kin tell vou—a-turnin’ m
house into a private asylum, but I’m paid well,

and no harm’s done, as I see. ‘Sleep, are
they?”
McFarlane nodded gravely.

The young one is the prettiest creetur’ I
ever laid my eyes on,” he said, meditatively.
‘* What a pity she ain’t right. But it’s kind o’
queer her servant's off, too.”

Grant laughed.

“Bless you, she ain’t no more her servant 'n
you are. It’s just a fancy they’ve took between
em. I wish they’d wake up—I must git ’em
back afore dark. And a precious job it is goin’
tobe. You'll have to help me, Jack.”

Within the cabin, however, the ‘‘two poor
creetur’s”” were not as soundly asleep as Mc-
Farlane honestly thought, for, tired and pro-
foundly unconscious as Stella was, so deeply
asleep that the noise of the wood-chopping did
not disturb her, she had been suddenly started
broad awake by the sound of Grant’s voice just
outside the door, and, in a panic of breathless
terror, lay and listened to the story he imposed
upon McFarlane, and which he so conscientious-
ly believed.

She knew that nothing she could asseverate
to the contrary would remove the impression
Grant had made, and that tallied so tatefully
with his own previous suspicions, and she tried
to accept the fact that McFarlane would only
think he was doing his duty when he used his
inflaence and assistance in returning them to
their captivity.

For a while Stella lay with her eyes shut,
silent and watchful, her active brain busy with
plans to outwit Grant, while Elsbeth slept and
snored in profound ignorance of what was
trans re

“You'll help me up the mountain with ’em,
and I'll help you with your choppin’,” she
heard Grant say, eagerly. ‘‘ We’ll let ’em sleep
it out so’s they’ll be fresher fur their home trip.
Give us another ax, Jack.”

For several minutes longer Stella listened to

 
 

84

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

the regular falls of the axes, and then, she care-
fully awakened Elsbeth.

“Don’t speak a word—don’t make a sound,”
she said, as Elsbeth looked startledly in the
girl’s pale, anxious face. ‘‘ Grant has overtaken
us, and has convinced Mr. McFarlane we are
escaped lunatics, and persuaded him to return
us to him.”

Elsbeth’s breath came in little gasps of re-
newed horror.

“ Hush-sh—” Stella went on, in her low, im-
ressive voice. ‘‘Thereis just oné chance. I
ave made up my mind what.todo. Thereisa

window at the back of the cabin, beneath that
curtain—we must get out that way, silently,
while they are chORPIpg the wood—and take to
the road again. Come, Elsbeth! You under-
stand?”

By this time Elsbeth was perfectly awake and
self-controlled, and she assured her young mis-
tress she was ready to start. It only took a mo-
ment or so to don their wraps, and favored b.
the alternate fall of the axes, that made an al-
most continuous noise, they stepped easily
through the little window that was only two or
three feet above the ground, and made their
way silently, and swiftly as possible over a lit-
tle level stretch of ground where the, snow was
not very troublesome, and gained the main
road, where tracks showed that there had been
travel since the storm.

At the turn, Stella looked back, and saw the
two men chopping sRaseTOnsly

“Thank God! We are on the high road at
last, and they have not discovered our absence,”
she said, gratefully. “Be patient and brave
only a little longer, Elsbeth, and our trials will
be at anend.” —

As she spoke a little exclamation of raptur-
ous delight burst from Elsbeth.

“Miss Stella! See! God is good—yonder
comes a sled loaded with wood! We will ask
for a ride—we are safe, safe!”

It seemed too good to be true, but there it
came, a sled of wood drawn by two powerful
horses, oe silently and swiftly along.

‘Stella signaled the man to stop and. take
them on, and, while they were speeding along,
thankfully, gratefully, Grant was waiting out-
side the door for them to waken.

Nearly an hour later, McFarlane discovered
their escape, and Grant’s fury and bitter disap-
pointment knew no bounds,

“Curse ’em,”’ he shouted, ‘‘ I’ll follow ’em if I
have to shoot ’em and haul’em back by the hair
of their heads! It’s a matter of money to me,
and I ain’t a-goin’ to be fooled out of it by no
sech ae, women as them!”

He dashed off, in bot haste, little knowing the
odds against him in that fruitless pursuit, or
that, two hours before he reached the village,
Stella and Elsbeth had taken the train for New
York—safe from his relentless clutches,

ae. his luck, he had but one alternative
left, and he te‘egraphed the one word to Clif-
ford Knight tnat wrought such consternation to
him, and aroused Thomas’s suspicions.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
ANOTHER WOMAN’S ENMITY.

Tue receipt of the ominous telegram from
Grant was an astonishment and terrified con-
sternation from which Clifford Knight could
not immediately rally. He went directly to his
oo rooms, after leaving Mr. Severn’s li-

ra: and, with the dispatch crushed in his
hand in a fierce grasp, walked up and down the
suit, ying to rea! all that was compre-
hended in that one word ‘‘escaped.”

That Stella was beyond his reach, at least for
the present, he understood, and that thought
alone filled him with passionate disappointment
and bitter regret. But—had she learned the
true condition of affairs? If not, why had she
‘not waited to be escorted from the mountain
cottage? If she had, how had it been accom-
plished?

Between racking fears and tormenting doubts,
fierce jealousy of her escape from him and keen
horror of the consequences, Knight spent two
or three days in an inward pandemonium that
betrayed itself. only by his unusual pallor and
the suppressed excitement in his eyes, upon
which Sibyl commented more than once, and
‘was told he was fighting with one of his un-
usual but formidable headaches.

The second day after the receipt of the dis-

tch, he went to the mountain cottage, where
Ha teded from Grant the full particulars of
Miss Carizelle’s obtaining the information that
led to her successful escape through thé storm
and darkness, and filled with bitterness and
rage against him, Knight had not spared Grant
an expression of his opinion, and. after paying
the price agreed upon for the use uf the cottage
and the services of the family, which amount
he dared not lessen, he took his final leave,
cursing his ill-luck as he went.

That Stella had returned to-New York he was
inclined to believe, and the belief was equally
full of apprehension and delight to him; appre-
hension that he believed she knew him at his
worst; delight at the opportunity he would
have of tryinghis chancesagain. e

The day following that upon which he had
made his final journey to “Bonamy,” he ac-

 

companied his wife upon a sleigh-ride to Cen-
tral Park, at her urgent request.

“You are so ungallant, Clifford. You rarely
ever escort me anywhere unless I insist upon it,
and lately you have been in a most incompre-
hensible mood altogether,” she had said, com-
plainingly.

“Oh, I will take a seat in the sleigh if you
are so very anxious,” he returned, indifferently.
‘“‘T had an engagement in another direction, but
I dare say it can wait.”

After a dash through the Park, the coachman
received his orders to drive to Stewart’s, and, as
the elegant turnout turned into upper Broad-
way, the throng of vehicles on the road obliged
the Severn sleigh to stop fora second, Only a
second, but, leaning luxuriously back among
the white fur robes, Sibyl looked carelessly at
the throngs of passers-by on the pavement, un-
til, just as the horses started on again, she sud-
denly spoke.

“Clifford! See there! It is the young girl
they are making such a fuss about—Mr. Clare-
mont’s sweetheart!—I saw her the day she
called upon Olga!”

As she spoke, excitedly, Knight followed the
direction she indicated by her glance, while the
sleigh went on, but the swift glance he took
showed him Stella Carizelle on tho sidewalk,
pale, haughty, disdainful as he never had
dreamed it was in her sweet gracious nature to
be. A sweeping glance, but one in which their
eyes met in recognition, while Knight’s face
suddenly looked as if chiseled from gray mar-
ble, so sharp and sudden was the brief, unex-
pected encounter with those flashing blue eyes
so full of icy scorn and contempt.

Sibyl regarded him in an amazement she
made no effort to conceal.

“What is the matter with you?” she asked,
angrily. ‘Is there anything in the ‘sight of
that girl to make you look as though you had
seen a ghost?”

““T—]—have a—sudden—spasm at my heart!
Don’t—talk to—me,” he gasped, leaning bacl
against the fur robe, his ghastly face corrobo-
rating his assertion.

‘*Oh!” Sibyl said, a little less ungraciously.
“Tf you are ill, I suppose we must drive home,
See Lam not ready to go yet. Could you
not call a hack and go home without me?”

Knight’s miserable, agitated face, palely
gray and haggard, did not elicit the slightest
sympathy from his selfish wife, who, ae
thoneh he was, might almost have pitied him
as he sat there, striving to regain his calmness
and self-control.

“JT will feel—better directly. The air is—
helping me.”

e almost crouched down in the luxurious
nest of robes, his seal-skin cap drawn over his
forehead, the fur collar of his overcoat drawn
up around his face, while Sibyl in no way re-
covered from her selfish heartlessness looked
smilingly about her as friends and acquaint-
ances passed her.

At Stewart’s the sleigh drew 4 at the curb,
and Sibyl went in to attend to her shopping,
while Knight drove to the St. Denis hotel and
procured a glass of hot stimulant which was
successful in strengthening his nerves, in a
measure; and his courage and self-control be-
gan to resume command of him.

So then, Stella had not only returned to New
York, but, she had come with a full knowledge
of his rascality, his unpardonable intentions to-
ward her; he knew that by the look there had
been in her eyes as she passed him, disdaining a
nod of recognition.

“What a look of supreme horror of me
flamed up in her eyes as she looked at me!
What can she do to ine if she chooses to tell
what she knows? Can I bearrested on a charge
of abduction? Will she seek out Claremont,
now that she has proved me a villain in one
way, on the assumption that [ have lied to her
about him?”

Despite the courage the hot brandy and wa-
ter had infused into him, his whole frame trem-
bled with nervous horror as he contemplated
all that might happen.

“*T must find her—I must see her, and dis-
abuse her mind of what those accursed fools
babbled about. I feel I am on a precipice,
until I have reinstated myself in Stella’s esti-
mation, and I will move heaven and earth but
that I will do it—curse it all! It hasn’t paid—I
begin to believe such a life as mine never does

.pay, with every hour full of harrowing fears
of consequences! I have played a high hand,
and I have lost on both sides. I thought I was
marrying an heiress, and I find all I have
gained by my scheming is the possession of an
unprincipled, unscrupulous vixen, whom I be-
lieve I hate already., I thought to gain at least
some happiness with the only woman I ever
loyed, and—”

His thoughts suddenly changed from bitter
retrospect as he recalled Stella Carizelle’s lovely
face, and a flame of passionate anguish thrilled
him hotly.

“How gloriously beautiful she looked to day
—like a bright, flashing star as high above me
as the stars in heaven above the reflection in a
shallow bse of water. She is the only woman
I ever loved, and I love her still with all my

 

 

macro |

soul. If I had only never been such an idiot as
to have tied myself to the beggar I hate, I
might, by patience and devotion, have won
ee for my wife. If I could only undo it
all!

He could scarcely repress a groan of anguish,
and as he thought of Stella, more unattainable
now than ever, he grew more miserably jealous
and angry.

For a few minutes longer he sat there, plan-
ning and scheming how to get track of Stella,
and then Sibyl appeared at one of the many
doors, and the footman sprung down to assist
her into the sleigh.

“Home!” she said to the coachman, as she
settled herself comfortably among the robes,
before addressing Knight,

“Do you feel better?’ she asked, indiffer-
ently, and then, glancing at him, her gaze be-
came more interested, and her manner more
inguisitive. ‘‘ You are actually looking dread-
fully, Clifford. You are almost green with
lividness, and your eyes are like a beast’s eyes.
You must have had a very strange shock, IL
never knew your heart was affected.”

He did not answer, and Sibyl did not seem to
consider it worth her trouble to pursue the
subject further, and they lapsed into a silence
eed ‘was not disturbed during the drive

ome,

At the reception-room door, »vhither Haight
listlessly escorted her, he would have left her
had she not suddenly looked angrily at him.

“‘T want you to go up to our rooms,” she said,
im ome

till listless, he slowly preceded her up the
grand staircase and into her boudoir, the door
of which she locked as she followed him through,
ih a hasty glance around to see if they were
one,
“Sit down,” she commanded, still imperi-
ously. “My maid is not here, and I wish to
may, few words to you.”
e carelessly took a chair near the glowing
grate, steeling himself desperately to what he
new she intended to say.

‘*Say them,” he said, coldly. ;

“Yes, I shall say them. Clifford, do you
think, for one minute, you succeeded in deceiv-
ing me to-day with that story about a spasm of
your heart?” ‘

“Deceived you?” he repeated, indifferently.

“*T don’t know in what respect [ should have

occasion to do that.”

She was unbuttoning her sealskin sacque hur -
riedly, and there was an ominous menace in her
voice. AR

“Don’t assume that air,” she said, impa-
tiently, angrily. ‘You understand me per-
fectly. “Your sickness in the sleigh was no sick-
ness. You looked frightened to death when
you saw that girl on the crossing. Don’t at-
ae to deny it—what does it mean?”

es What does what mean?” he asked, dog-

gedly.
“Bont irritate me beyond what I can en-
dure,” she cried, passionately. ‘‘There’s some-
thing I don’t understand between you and that
girl, Clifford Knight! You would have been
glad to have discovered her, if there was not
some mystery which you mean to keep from me.
‘You and she are not ordinary acquaintances—I
am no fool, I saw the look she gave you—what
is that girl to you?”

Knight arose from his chair, slowly, delib-
erately, and looked her steadily in her flaming
eyes.

‘See here, Sibyl, once for all, don’t let me
hear anything further on this subject. If-you
pos to develop into a eae wife, it will
be the one addition required to render my life
with you a hell on earth. Once for all, I refuse
toanswer your jealous cross-questionings. Once
for all, 1 forbid you to mention the girl’s name
to me again, for I tell you I scarcely know her.”

Sibyl’s eyes fairly pod epee in his.

“Tunderstand. You have got a secret, and
it is connected with the girl Roy Claremont is
in love with! But it won’t be a secret long, for
Vl find it out if it costs my life. Dll go to Mr.
Claremont, I’ll go to Mr. Severn—”

He interrupted her passionate words.

“Do it if you dare! By Heaven, you won’t
do it, then! If you so much as mention the
girl’s name to either of them, bey one hope of
being’ the wife of the heir of the Severn estates
is forever destroyed—for she will take my
place. Tell the fact of our encounter to-day,
and, as the Lord lives, I’ll expose you and your
real character to Mr. Severn. You understand
me, madam, once for all?”

e looked steadily in her eyes a moment, and
then left the room, leaving Sibyl in a fury of
wrath and fear.

‘So he has got a secret, and he dreads its be-
ing discovered! And it’s no ordinary one
either, or he’d not turn livid at sight of her!
What is between them? Ill know ”—and she
set her teeth together with a snap—‘“‘I’ll find it
out, be the consequences what they may!”

 

CHAPTER XXXIX.
BEGINNING AGAIN. __

DuRInG the three days that had elapsed be-
tween the time that Stella Carizelle came face
to face with Clifford Knight and his wife, and

r 1

7
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suit you

IN MORTAL PERIL.

35

 

 

the moment she and Elsbeth took their seats on
the piled wood on the farmer’s village-bound
sleigh, events had happened that had been most
momentous to her.

In that brief glance that Knight had had of
her, as the tee him on the crossing at Broad-
way and Union Square, he had only seen the
haughty disdain and womanly contempt in her
flashing blue eyes and chilling pale face, that,
for the moment, had completely dissipated the
expression of desolate ao and pitiful loneli-
ness that had been so deeply stamped upon it
since her return to New York.

For sore trouble had come upon her, and
Stella realized, as she never had realized be-
fore, what it meant to be utterly, utterly deso-
late, not‘a friend in the whole wide world who
cared for her, no face to brighten at her ap-
proach, no familiar voice to speak to her, or
sympathetic ear to listen to her.

For faithful old Elsbeth was dead, and, so
sudden and relentless had been the attack of

meumonia that had seized her in its fatal chill

hat day while riding on the wood-sled, that
even now Stella. could hardly comprehend that
the faithful heart was forever at rest.

Arrived at the village, that cold fair day,
Stella had found a train just ready to start out
for New York, and she and Elsbeth had taken
it, and reached the city, after one change of
po in the dim gray of the next day’s winter-

awn.

Full of gravest apprehensions about Elsbeth,
Stella had at once driven toa quiet hotel near
the dep6t, and called in medical attendance for
the sick woman, and tended and nursed her
with loving care.

And then—saw her die, and knew the only
dread death had for her was the fear of leaving
Stella so terribly alone in the world.

With almost her dying breath, Elsbeth had
counseled Stella to be brave, and trustful in the
God of the orphan, and left her honest, simple
blessing on the fair young head.

Stella buried her, piaaly and pitifully, and
went back to her little dull back room in the
hotel to look the future in the face—to begin
the bravery, the childlike trust that was to be
her strength. ’

Face to face with the stern reality of life,
Stella’s thoughts grew calm and collected the
more thoroughly she accepted her situation, and
she marsbaled her thoughts like troops for battle.

She had decided not to return to the old
rooms, for it was strongly her determination to
separate herself from everything that linked
her to the brief, pitiless past.

She knew there was a barrier between her
and the only one in the world she really cared
for, a barrier as hopeless as it was cruel. She
knew that even friendship had been taken
away from her, and that she was as alone as
though in the midst of a desert or on a lone
island in the sea. She could think of no pos-
sible refuge, and she was aware of the depleted
condition of her purse, that, when she paid her
bill that day and went away, would leave her
with not ten dollarsin the world.

For hours of that bright winter day she sat
there, alone, after returning from blsbeth’s
grave, pean the noises of the busy, cheery
city life all about her, but not heeding them
until outraged nature demanded the food an
drink she had quite forgotten.

A cup of steaming coffee for which she sent
sepinee. her, and almost at once she set out to
find a room somewhere, with a list from a
morning ipeper in her ket, as she had done
once before, when Elsbeth’s presence and
cheery voice enco her.

But, and she gratefully acknowledged the
hand of Providence in it, a position was offered
her by a permanent. boarder in the hotel—

a@ grave, motherly elderly lady who had re-

garded her with especial interest, and had more
than once been personally to inquire during
Elsbeth’s brief illness. |

Now, she tapped at Stella’s door just as Stella
was drawing on her little gray gloves prepara-
tory to starting on her quest for work and
shelter.

The great, sad eyes involuntarily brightened
as she opened the door promptly.

“Mrs. Redmond! Come in, please.”

‘You were just going out, Miss Carizelle, and
I will not detain you. Icansee you later just
as well; unless your business out will intertere
with what I have come hoping to arrange.”

Sho had a charming way of speaking, and
now Stella’s eyes met hers almost eagerly.

“T was going to look for a room, and for
work, Mrs. Redmond,” she said, gravely. ‘I
cannot remain here any longer.”

“Then allow me to sit down and tell you
what I have come for, Miss Carizelle. I am
glad 1 caught you before you had been on such
anerrand. Iam looking for a young lady as
resident governess for my daughter Alda—you
may have noticed her, a girl of eleven. Per-
haps I should hardly say ‘‘ governess” either,
for I should require other duties besides teach-
ing—looking after the child, driving with us,
being really one of us, Miss Carizelle, for I take
a t+ deal of personal care of Alda myself
Pie always to. Would such a position

 

Stella had listened with quickening pulses,
and her pure face flushed eagerly. ‘

“Tf I only might be so greatly favored as to
obtain such a situation! I could teach your
daughter to paint and embroider and—but,”—
and @ little wistful piteousness suddenly crert
into her tone—‘‘I have no references, Mrs.
Redmond, and you do not know who Iam.”

Mrs. Redmond smiled pityingly.

“My dear child, when you have lived as
many years as I have, you will be apt to know
a good face when you see it. You area lady,
and a modest, noble one atthat. Ido not mean
flattering compliment, understand me, but I
do mean that I would be glad to befriend you,
as I would pray Heaven that my Alda might
be befriended if she were a stranger, and deso-
late as you are.” ;

The tears sprung to Stella’s eyes.

“T will give the best I have to, try to repay
you,” she said, touchingly. ‘Only let me have
the position, and I willdo my very best. Might
1 take it‘at once?” she asked, wistfully; looking
at Mrs. Redmond with her lovely eyes that
thrilled her through and through.

“At once, my dear—only, you have not in-
quired my terms.”

“TY did not think of the pay,” Stella said,
with a little flush. ‘‘ I -was so thankful to think
I was to have a home, and honest) work, and—
and—a friend,” she added, half-deprecatingly.

“You may count on me as a friend,” Mra
Redmond said, heartily. ‘+ And now, since you
are in my employ, Miss Carizelle, and have
your street wraps already on, I wish you would
go to this address and select the text-books you
wish Alda to use.”

She handed Stella a card, and ten dollars, and
gave her minute description how to find the
place, and Stella went out into the bright, busy
streets, with a prayer of thanksgiving in her
heart, that God had raised up such a friend in
her time of need,

‘“‘T will try to be happy,” she ‘thought, as she
walked along. ‘‘I will devote myself to my
work, and do all J can to make my little pupil

row to bea good woman, and to make Mrs
dmond never regret her great kindness to
me. In work must be my relief from the
thoughts that otherwise would drive me mad.
In hard work I must forget that I love Roy
Claremont, another woman’s husband, by this
time,”—and, despite herself, her face paled
with bitter, jealous anguish,—“‘ or that the hus-
band of another woman dared deceive me
so.

And, almost as she thought these thoughts,
she glanced up at the sleigh that obstructed the
crossing, and met Clifford Knight’s guilty, con-
science-stricken eyes, fullon her own, and in-
stantly all her pride, and contempt of him,
flashed disdainfully in her blue eyes, and with-
out vouchsafing a glance at the lady by his side,
she erected her little head as hanghtély as a
princess, and went on her way.

She made her selection at the book-store with
thoughtful judgment, and taking the receipt
for the bil], ordered them sent to Mrs. Red-
mond’s address, and then took the opportunity
of making the purchase of a few necessary ar-
ticles of wear for herself, for the dress she wore,
of thick flannel, was her only toilet, the re-
mainder of her simple wardrobe being at
Grant’s cottage. as

Two hours were thus spent, and Stella, worn
out with fatigue, stood waiting at the curbstone
for a street car to pass that would take her
nearly home. She had thrown back her vail,
the better to read the routes on the cars, and,
standing there, all unconscious of jionage,
Clifford Knight, from the window of the club-
room on the opposite side of the street, to which
he had gone after that bitter interview with his
wife, saw her.

In an instant he was down on the street,
carefully ae out of sight, yet watching
her as a cat watches her prey.

‘“T must see her,” he said, fiercely, to himself.
‘*T will follow her, and if it is within the range
of human capability, I will undo the mischief
that idiot Grant accomplished; I will convince
her I am still her best friend. Failing to reés-
tablish myself in her estimation, I must learn
all I can learn of her, I must manage to know
= what terms she will keep silent and hid-

en.

Keeping his eye well on her, Knight beck- |

oned a hackman waiting at the curb for busi-

ness, and as Stella stepped aboard the car, he

ee orders to keep a certain distance be-
ind it.

All unconscious of her enemy’s pursuit, Stella
sat restfully in the crowded car untilit reached
the nearest point'‘of approach to her destina-
tion, and then she alighted and continued her
way on foot while Knight gave his orders to
the driver to keep well behind her, and so they
went on, Stella in her deliberate, graceful walk,
and Knight with feverish face and glittering
eyes peering through the carriage window—a
look which changed to exultation as he saw her
enter the ladies’ entrance of the hotel.

‘Can it be she is stopping there with her ser-
vant? Or, has she gone in on business? I will
wait and see if she is coming out.”

For half an hour or so, he had the coupé

 

drive up and down where he could command
the ladies’ entrance of the hotel, and then he
dismissed it, paid the driver well, and went bold-
ly in the office and requested to be’ shown to
Miss Carizelle’s room.

 

CHAPTER XL.
FIFTEEN YEARS AFTER—WHAT? “

Upon the same afternoon that Clifford Knight
and Sibyl had met Stella Carizelle in the street,
Mrs. Osmond had taken her usual daily ride in
another of Mr. Severn’s sleighs, a magnificent
two-seated affair, lined with white robes, and
attended by a coachman and footman in livery,
and with a pair of superb coal-black horses,
who wore their golden bells in the Russian style.

All the world seemed: out. The fashionable
world, to whose charmed circle Olga belonged,
as it seemed to her, by sufferance, knowing, as
she did, the hideous secret that would have
driven her forth, as Eve was driven from Para-
dise, the women of the élite—were nestled in
sleighs, wrapped in sealskins, and dainty, be-
witching hoods of rose and azure and: fleecy

white, smiling and bowing as they passed ac-.

quaintances and friends. The men of society,
famous for art, or literature; or science, or poli-
tics or for—nothing, had’ their places beside
their fair charges, and all the world seemed en-
joying a gala day.

n her magnificent turnout, equaled by none
on the road, Olga Osmond reclined against the
sloping cushioned back of the sleigh, her ‘seal-
skin sacque nestling warm around her neck, her
charming creation of rose satin and zephyr and
ribbon covering her rich, dark hair, and light-
ing up to its best advantage, her haridsome bru-
nette face, She was certainly looking at her
best that bright winter afternoon, and she
smiled charmingly, showing her flashing teeth,
and bowed languidly and —— at ing
acquaintances, as though she never had known
a care, or had suffered a ae conscience un-
rest in her life. : To look at her, no one would
have ventured to think that beneath the gra-
cious, sparkling beauty and princely style was
a seething volcano. of evil passions, that at that
very moment were in strong activity, or that
the great dark eyes, so slumberous and soft as
she iy back among the furry robes, were the
windowsof a wicked, scheming brain, and that,
as she sat there, admired by all who saw her,
envied by not a few, she was riencing such
bitter loathing and disgust for the elegantly at-
tired gentleman who sat beside her, or that she
was resting her seal-mittened hand beneath her
sacque, on the place at her bodice, where, be-
neath it, lay the vial of deadly poison—biding

its time.
She was angrily disappointed, too, for she had
failed to see Roy Claremont the evening before,

in answer to her note uesting him to call..
“A previous engagement had prevented his ac-
ceptance,” he had sent back answer.

ides all these causes of unrest and vexa-
tion, she had been dismayed and indignant
when, a half-hour before, Jerome Wels! had
smilingly signaled the coachman up to the curb
of the sidewalk, along which he was walking,
and, very coolly and matter-of-factly, had taken
his seat beside her.

He had left Mr. Severn’s employ, in prompt
acquiescence of that gentleman’s stern com-
mand, and he had not seen Olga since the pre-
ceding day, until now, when, greatly to’ her
alarm and annoyance he had intruded himself
upon her.

He was the very impersonation of im Cy
and could scarcely conceal his exultation in his
power over the proud woman who was so un-
willingly controlled by him. He rejoiced in his
position with a self-satisfaction he took no pains
to conceal, and bowed right and left with a

cious half-patronizing air that seemed to

im befitting the future husband of a star in

the soeial world of such magnitude as the wo-

man by his.side, who was loathing and hating
him murderously as she sat there.

“Tt has seemed an age since I left Mr. Sev-
ern’s house yesterday morning, my dear Olga,”
he said, affectionately, ‘and i regard it as a
special interposition of good luck that I met
youso conveniently. You see it is as I told you
—our engagement is no longer a secret; poo
already regard me as on charmingly intimate.
terms with you, and I have not the slightest
doubt but that many a poor fellow’s heart sinks
at knowledge of my superior good luck in car-
rying off such a prize as your sweet self.” ,

Olga’s lips curled with bitterest scorn.

“‘T should think people would regard me with

akable amazement that I should have
made such a choice,” she said, coldly.

He smiled—oddly.

“T quite agree with you, my dear. People!
are usually surprised at a genuine Jove mateh—
such as ours. And thatreminds me, I have had
notices of our approaching marriage given to
the different reporters of fashionable news of
the day, and they will om in an issue or so.
I have also selec my bridal present for you.
Olga—a set of pearls, pure as new-fallen
sO su; ive, you know, my dearest!”

_She flashed him a po hat would have an-
nibilated him, if a glance could have done it.
“How Ido

snow,

you,” she hissed, fiercely.
 

    

36

IN MORTAL PERIL:

 

 

He turned his gaze toward her—a bland, wor-
shiping smile on his face for the benefit of Roy
Claremont, whom he had seen coming toward
them, and a devil in his eyes that menaced her
with shivering horror.

“My darling,” he said, bending toward her,
**you cannot tell how you delight me by your
displays of affection. And—remember, I shall
a forget ‘to repay them, principal, interest
and— \

‘At that moment Mr. Claremont’ssleigh passed

_ them—a stylish little cutter, and his favorite
racer ‘‘ Ben Bolt.” He was driving himself, and
had his attention necessarily devoted to his
horse, but, as Olga and Welsh passed, she met
Claremont’s grave, perplexed look, and in an-
swer to the courteous bow he gave her, she was
conscious of a warm flush reddening her face.

Involuntarily she turned toward Welsh, and

he had never seemed oe so contemptible, so
d. ting, so mean and ignoble before, as when
ring by the vivid contrast with Clare-
mont’s glorious, manly beauty—his short, thick
neck, his small mean eyes, his gross, sensual
face, his contemptible assumption of impor-
tance; and in an uncontrollable disgust she
shrunk as far away from him as the limits of
the seat would allow.

While he, apparently not —— it, secretly
added it to the long list of debts she owed him,
and for which he would take his satisfaction in
his own way.

For a while nothing further was said between
them, and the sleigh dashed along into the Park,
when, es the throng of vehicles was somewhat

rplexing, the coachman brought his prancing

orses to a restive standstill, just seas a lit-
tle party of women—poor, forlorn-looking crea-
tures, not beggars, but not much better—wo-
men who perhaps had a home somewhere, and
a ey amount upon which to eke outa scanty
living.

One of them, the foremost of the quartette, a
thin, pale, consumptive-looking creature, with
a blanket shawl drawn tightly about her, and a
coarse gray scarf wrapped around her head,
suddenly stepped ward as Mr. Severn’s
coachman reined in the blacks, which seemed in-
disposed to stand quiet for a single moment.

‘ He nearly ran over me,” shesaid, nervously.
“But what if he did? I am nothing but a
wretched creature that’d be better out of the
world than in, if it wasn’t for the one hope
that’s never left me, night or day, for—”

She paused suddenly, and peered forward
into the Severn sleigh, her eyes wild and ex-
cited, her face paling, and her hand clutchin
atthe arm of the companion with whom she had

_ been speaking.

The other two women had passed on out of
sight, but she still detained her friend by that
ae on the arm.

re o is that? What’s her name? There!
Quick!”

“Where? Whodo you mean?” her compan-
ion asked, almost as excitedly as she had spoken
herself. ‘‘ Where shall I look, Lizy?”

“In the sleigh—right here—the lady with the
dark eyes and pink hood—it is the face I’ve been
looking for for years, for years.”

The horses began to pass on, in slow, statel
prance, and ‘‘Lizy” stared, as if bewitched,

Olga Osmond’s beautiful face.

‘* Why, that’s Mrs. Osmond, one of the big-

bugs in New York, I can tell you. If it’s
he one you've been lookin’ for these fifteen
years or so, you’re mistaken, that’s all.”

The sleigh had dashed on by this time, and
all unconscious of the Nemesis that had
mly started up in her tracks, was smiling

and bowing when occasion required, serenely
as ever.

“ Mistaken! I am not mistaken. I'd know
her in Africa, or Greenland, or Japan, _ It’s the
face I’ve dreamed of finding ever since I saw it
just, fifteen years ago, in California, and that
T’ve looked for every day since whenever I’ve
been on the street. And I’ve found her,” she
said, hysterically, ‘‘I’ve found her, and I’ve
m anf fortune, Janey. She’s in my power,
and she'll give me my price to a mouth
shut. ‘Mrs. Osmond.’ It wasn’t Mrs. Osmond
then, though. She must have married again.
Her name— Well,never mind. ‘Mrs. Osmond.’
I won’t forget that. I’ll find out where she lives
beforeI go home. Can it be true I’ve found
cher—after fifteen years? Janey, am I awake?”

* More like you’recrazy! Come along, or the
police ‘Il have you, you're that excited and
wild-lookin’.”

“ And you'd be excited if you’d had happen

§ you what has happened me since we stood here.
tte you all the world has changed to me in
the last ten minutes. There’ll be no more

inching and grinding for me—I can have all

jhe money I want now, for the asking—out of
her, Lam going straight to a drug-store and
consult a directory for her address.’

_ She started off, impulsively, her thin face
flushed with a spot of hectic red on either
cheek, her eyes glittering excitedly.

“There ain’t no need to do that. I can tell

you where she lives, because I know the second
Laat that works there. It’s at

on on Fifth avenue. I

ern’s, a big marble
know it well enough.”

Mr. Sev: |

 

‘ And to think I never saw her till to-day!
If you know so much about her, you must know
more, too—what does her daughter look like—
tall and slim and stylish, I dare say?”

* Daughter! Mrs. Osmond ain’t got no
children, and never did have. I know that
much, anyhow. Why, you’ve heard me speak
about her afore now.” i

“But how did I know it was she? No child—
no daughter—”

She paused, perplexed.

‘That's not so,” she said, firmly. ‘‘I—”

The look in her companion’s face restored her
calmness.

‘Mrs, Osmond, at Mr. Severn’s, Fifth ave-
nue.’ [ll never forget that. Come. I’m half
perished with the cold.”

But her flushed face and suppressed excite-
ment did not argue suffering from the sharp win-
terair. She did not feel it, for her thoughts
were running wildly in an entirely different di-
rection.

“No more work and half-starvation for me!
Even if the child is dead, Mrs. Osmond will
not refuse to give me money to support myself.
To think, I have found her after fifteen years,
and recognized her as though it had been yes-
terday! I'll see her before I’m a day older!”

CHAPTER XLI.
A VILLAIN’S VINDICATION.

Tue clerk in the hotel-office at once summoned
a bell-boy to conduct Clifford Knight to Miss
Carizelle’s room, to which Stella had gone after
her return from the errands for herself and Mrs.
Redmond; and that lady having gone with her
daughter Alda for a sleigh-ride, Stella improved
the opportunity to make a few little prepara-
tions for her new ition, before kk her
room, in the evening. Knight and thé bell-boy
had made no noise walking through the thickly
carpeted corridor, and a silver dollar thrust
into the youngster’s hand had made him know-
ingly retreat when he had indicated the door of
Miss Carizelle’s room, before which Knight
paused a moment, before he turned the knob
and entered.

Stella was sitting at the window, basting
fresh lace ruching in the neck and wrists of the
little blue jacket she had just purchased, and
she turned her head and looked up at the sound
of the closing of the door to see Knight stand-
i there, hat in hand, grave, respectful.

he instantly rose to her feet, after one second
of breathless astonishment. Her face flushed,
and her eyes flashed their blue, indignant fire.

“Sir,” she said, haughtily, ‘‘I do not permit
such intrusion into my private room. Be so
good as to leave it, at once.”

He lcoked at her with anxious, troubled eyes.

“Miss Carizelle, you will pardon this intrusion
when you learn why I have come, when—”

‘‘T do not wish to hear you speak—unless it is
to explain what you wish of me, how you dared
follow me here.”

She remained standing, in supreme hauteur
and coldness,

‘There has been a terrible misunderstanding
somewhere, Miss Carizelle,” he said, firmly,
‘and, in simple justice to myself, I have taken
the opportunity of seeing youaboutit. I heard
you had left Bonamy, and I know under what
a frightful delusion you made, what you hon-
estly considered, your escape from me—from
me, Miss Carizelle,”—he added, reproachfully,
then continued, straightforwardly: ‘‘ By merest
accident I met you to-day, as you know, and
seeing the look in your face, your manner, I
knew you were still awfully mistaken. And I
have come to clear myself in your estimation—
asxasimple act of imperative justice to myself.”

He chose his words well, and his grave, quiet
manner carried an involuntary weight with
them, yet Stella listened with her face full of
scorn.

“No explanations you could make would
avail. You pretended to be mysfriend, and
you,have proved yourself my bitterest enemy.”

“Miss Stella, L swear you are mistaken from
first to last. Than myself you never had, you
have not, a truer friend. ou are not only un-
kind, you are cruel to refuse to listen to my
vindication.”

“TI repeat I wish to hear no vindication.
You lured me to a place you told me was Bon-
amy. Youtried to palm yourself off as a single
man—nothing, nothing can alter those facts. I
heard of your villainy through the faithfulness
of my poor old Elsbeth, who tosave me has given
her life. Elsbeth is dead, and you, sir, will have
to answer for it.”

Her sweet voice trembled for all its chilling
haughtiness, and a swift, exultant feeling
seized him to hear that the old servant was
dead, that Stella was ret alone in the
world; for, friendly as Elsbeth had been before
the deplcrable dénouwement, he believed it
would have been more difficult to satisfy her
with regard to the affair, than to convince
Stella there had been a malicious mistake.

‘Elsbeth dead! Elsbeth dead—I cannot be-
lieve it, the faithful, noble old soul! Miss
Stella, if you would only believe my heart
breaks wit pity for you in your loneliness!”

She flashed him a look of keenest scorn.

“T ean easily believe that,” she said, sar-

 

 

castically. ‘‘ And now, if you have said your
say, please retire, and do not repeat the annoy-
ance of your visit.”

He looked reproachfully at her, and his
whole manner was that of apparent grief and
regret. ‘

‘I will go—only grant me a moment further.
Miss Stella, you say I ‘lured’ you to a oe
that was not Bonamy. ThatIdeny,in toto. I
escorted you to Mrs. Osmond’s country-seat, in
obedience to my cousin’s request, and because
it was a keen pleasure for me to have that
honor. I visited you upon your own permis-
sion so to do, and on my next visit, which
would have transpired last Tuesday, I meant to.
have escorted you and Elsbeth to thiscity. I

| swear that is true, Miss Stella, and I am pre-

pared to prove it in the most indisputable man-
ner.

Stella listened, her eyes never leaving his
face, the expression on which was superb in its
consummate assumption of grave, proud re-

gret.

‘ As to the other absurd charge, my being a
married man, it is too ridiculous to even at-
tempt to deny. I am not married, a fact
which you can satisfy yeurself regarding at
your earliest convenience.”

She stood before him, pale, passionate with
indignation, incredulousness on every feature
of her proud face.

‘“‘T have not been your enemy, MissStella. I
have been your truest friend, and the time will
come when you will be proud to admitit. You
have an enemy; bitter, relentless and cruel, but
itis not I—I would save you from her. Mrs.
Osmond is the arch-fiend who has paid Grant
and his people, not only to keep youa prisoner
at Bonamy, but to divert suspicion from ker-
self, by using my name as a blind. Mrs. Os-
mond never intended you to leave Bonamy
alive—she has always been jealous of you,
despite ber lover’s assertions that there was no
need for such an emotion. She intended that
you never should, by an ease a cross Mr.
Claremont’s path again, I learned the true con-
dition of affairs only a day or so before your
escape, and I was coming bring you away.
And, knowing all I.do, Miss Stella, can you
wonder I am hear'sick and horrified at the es-
timation in which you are holding me?”

All through the grave, yet suppressedly ex-
cited recital, her eyes had looked steadfastly in
his that never faltered beneath her searching
gaze.

“You have told your story, and—” with a
slight hesitation in her chilling tones—‘‘it ma:
be true. Perhaps I am doing wrong in doub
ing you. But, 1 will try to be just. I will
think of what you have said. Now, will you

‘o?

She made a queenly gesture toward the door.

It seemed to Knight, as he looked at her, that
all his heart was on fire with love for her. Her
royal grace, her beautiful face, so mers
saintly aoe) passionful, thrilled him as she had
never done before—for his was a nature that
coveted the unattainable, and she seemed be-
yond his reach now. He looked at her, the fire
gathering in his eyes, and involuntarily he
thought of ane with a loathing that made
him shudder. If only he had not committed
that fatal mistake of marrying the supposed
heiress of Vincent Place, he thought he would
have only been too blessed in winning this peer-
less girl who had only for her possessions the
clothes she wore. And, in his guilty soul, he
told himself anew he would possess her—sooner
or later, by fair means or foul, that he would
not give her up, but would devote every effort
to the one end of winning her,

‘*¥ do not ask anything but justice at your
hands in this matter,” he said, quietly, and his
tones were strangely at variance wit! his veke-
ment thoughts. ‘‘1 am convinced you will de-
cide righteously after giving fair consideration
to what Ihave said. But there is one thing I
wish to ask you, Miss Stella, and it is—until I
am in a position to absolutely prove the charge
I have made regarding my cousin Olga, you
will preserve the confidence. By doing that,
you will hasten the day when I shall, by her
own mouth, even more fully exonerate myself
in your opinion.”

tella bowed coldly.

‘T shall not repeat it,” she assented.

“T thank you for your forbearance in listen-
ing to me, Miss Stella,” he said, as he moved a
step nearer the door. ‘‘I admit you had great
cause for distrusting and despising me, but you
have wisely granted mea word in my own de-
fense. Before I go, please permit me to inquire
ZI can be of the least, the humblest service to
you?’

“Thanks, you cannot. I am able to attend
to my own interests. And now, Mr. Knight,
you will not wish me to again remind you to
go?

He sighed heavily, as if her persistent reserve
hurt him beyond expression.

“T have not meant to annoy you—believe
that, Miss Stella. I think you know your peace
and happiness and comfort are dearer to me
than my own is. Will you not shake hands
with me before I go?” a

She stepped backward quickly, § ~

 

 

—_ ere

pas

 

 
 

 

IN MORTAL PERIL.

O7

 

“Very. well,” he said, bitterly. ‘‘I will go.
Iam not the first innocent man who has suf-
fered unjustly, and I will try to be patient by
believing that truth is sure to shine out, sooner
or later.”

He bowed gravely, and opened the door and
departed, the well-assumed expression of sad
thoughtfulness on his face instantly changing
to one of almost devilish exultation as he made
his way into the crowded street.

“T could not have wished for better success.
I flatter myself I told a plausible story, and I
imagine my persistent patience and gravit;
were fair impersonations of truth. She will
think of what I have said, and, in her own un-
impeachable honor, her own scrupulous sense of
justice, she will be forced to decide that I am
the innocent victim of a devilish conspiracy. I
will see her again, somehow, I’ll keep a look-
out on her, so that her movements will be
familiar to me, and ten to one the next time we
meet, she will receive me favorably, as a kind
of recompense for the injustice she will think
she used to-day.”

While Stella, returning to the window, looked
after him with grave, thoughtful face.

“Did I do right to doubt his story?’ she
asked herself, as she slowly basted in the fleecy
lace. ‘It seemed horribly atrocious to believe
him guilty of that which Grant accused him—
he never seemed to me to be a bad man, al-
though I disliked him—that summer,” and she
drew a little sobbing breath as the sweet
memory came over her. But she put it reso-
lutely away, and forced her thoughts to the sub-
ject under consideration.

“T remember, now, how strangely Mrs. Os-
mond impressed mé the day I called at her house
to show her my samples—could it be possible the
work was alla blind to get me away? Away
from a man who does not love me?”

She laid her sewing down in her lap, and
leaned back in her chair, gazing out into the
gathering dusk of the winter day.

“‘Forgive us. our trespasses as we forgive
those ac trespass against us,” she repeated,
softly. ‘‘I would not wish to sit in judgment
upon any one—I wonder if I did wrong in
doubting what he said? I must think of it. I
will pray over it.”

And then little Alda Redmond came rushing
into the room and carried her off to her new
quarters,

 

CHAPTER XLII,
WHAT ONE WOMAN VENTURED.

AccorDING to Welsh’s cone ene orders,
the sleigh set him down at his hotel, and Mrs.
Osmond returned home in a sullen rage that
meant her intense abhorrence of him. She had
barely responded to his smiling farewell, givin
him the merest nod of disdain, and then, wit!
@ look in her eyesof all the wickedness of which
her evil nature was capable, she gazed a second
after him.

“Tf Thad only the eppartnit at this mo-
ment to administer this harmless-looking water
in his wine or his coffee! I could do it without
a qualm, and I will doit, I will free myself of
his odious attentions at the earliest possible mo-
ment, for I would sooner swallow the poison
myself than marry him—the repulsive mon-
ster!

She went at once to her rooms, where her
maid attended upon her and removed her
wraps, while Olga retired to her warm little
boudoir, and seated herself in a low crimson
velvet chair before the silver-barred grate, giv-
ing herself up to her dark thoughts, that brood-
ed over her like birds of prey.

“J will have my own way in this matter as I
have had it all my life,” she thought, sullenly,
resolutely. ‘‘In my girlish days I defied every
one and married Field Osmond because}I wished
to. Ihave had my wish in sweeping this Stella
Carizelle from my path—not by my own hands,
but yet the tis almost the same. And I
shall even more successfully sweep Jerome
Welsh out of my way, and then—”

A brilliant, exultant smile curved her hand-
some mouth,

“I ghall win the game yet,” she,went on, her
spirits rising from sullen anger and cold, cruel
resolution, ‘I am quite sure Roy Claremont
will call upon me this evening, and it will in-
deed be strange if I do not succeed in makin
an impression on_ his grand, generous soul.
Yes, I will win yet, With Stella Carizelle and
Jerome Welsh out of the way, there is every
reason to hope that I will yet be Roy’s wife.”

Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and
her dark eyes wereshining when she joined Mr.
Severn, Mr. Knight and Sibyl at dinner, and
no one, to have entered ne little cosa
seen the cious re of manner, the low,
wwell-bred tones, would have imagined that in
three of the hearts were seething evilest, eruel-
est passions.

After dinner, Mr. Severn escorted Sibyl to
the theater, and Clifford Knight went to his
club, so that, when, at half-past eight, a ser-
vant announced Mr. Claremont to Olga, she
was alone and prepared to receive him, ex-
quisitely dressed in a house toilet of black satin
and corals,

As she entered the parlor, she went hastily

 

up to greet him, an agitation on her handsome
face which she left him at liberty to interpret.

He took her extended hand, cordially.

“Tam sorry I could not wait upon you last
evening, Olga,” he said. ‘But I was deeply
engaged in following up a new, sudden clew
that was shown me. It has ended where the
others have, however,”—and his countenance
fell. How strange it is Stella never wrote to
cs about her broken contract with you. You

ve heard nothing whatever, I suppose?”

‘Nothing whatever, or most certainly I
should have instantly notified you. Sit down.
Roy. I am entirely alone this evening, and i
am so glad you happened in. I want to talk to

‘ou.

He took a large, luxurious satin chair, and
leaned his bandsome blonde head against the
azure cushions, resting his elbows on the arms,
and bringing the tips of his fingers. together.
Olga sat in a low rocker, almost opposite, and
her heart was thrilling as she noted how grand,
how regal he was.

“T want to talk to you about Miss Carizelle,

Do you know it seems to me almost un-
worthy of you to persist in searching for a wo-
man, who, if alive, certainly does not care very
much for you, or she would find some means of
communicating with you.”

“T do not at all agree with you, Olga,” he
said, very gravely, and Olga interrupted him
reproachtul y- .

‘You did not oe so chillingly to me in the

old days, Roy. do not know how to recon-
cile myself to your changed manner toward
me.
“Was I chilling? I certainly did not intend
to be. Since I have been so positively sure you
had nothing whatever to do with Stella’s disap-
pearance, and that youemployed her in honest
faith to go to Bonamy, [have more than once
nanatoet my hasty judgment of you; and I
wish to assure you now that your sympathy is
VES dear to me in my great trouble.”

§ “ ose quickly at mee 1 i

‘ y, is it, really? Is my sym y
sweeter to you than that of other friends ? For.
give me that I ask it—but I should be so glad

Oo have your sympathy in return. I have so

many troubles of my own, Roy, and I don’t
know how to bear them any longer alone. I
am weak, and you are brave and strong—oh,
Roy, there are often times when, instead of en-
during as you endure, I wish I was dead!”

She pressed her dainty little violet-scented
handkerchief to her vag

He looked surprisedly at her.

“You astonish me, Olga, You unhappy?
You, one of the most envied, beautiful, courted
women in society? What can be the matter
that you wish you were dead? Is there any-
thing I can do for you?”

She did not answer, but sobbed softly as if
her grief were too great for immediate words.

‘‘Has uncle Severn anything to do with your
trouble?” he asked, after a second.

She shook her head and sobbed out a wailing
little ‘‘No.”

Claremont looked even more surprised.

“Tt cannot—possibly be—a money embar-
rassment. You know Rou can command me—”

“*No—no, indeed,” a said, convulsively,
drying her eyes—for she had really shed tears.

‘Then I am utterly at a loss to imagine what
you mean. Speak frankly, Olga, if you wish
me to be informed, and do not think that, deep
and absorbing and agonizing as my own grief
is, [am so selfish as to remain indifferent to
that which so distresses you. You know lam
not only a friend, but a cousin, and will gladly
serve you in any way. Tell me what grieves
you so.”

His voice was genuinely sympathetic and
kind, and full of.brotherly interest as he moved
his chair nearer her ene lifted one of her hands
gravely, encouragingly.

Olga did not at once reply. Hardened as her
bold scheming and unscrupulousness had made
her, fully though she had decided to make‘a
bold effort to secure her cousin for her lover,
she hesitated at the repugnant idea of laying
aside her womanly delicacy, she skrunk from

ursuing the course she had marked out for

erself, even while she forced herself to be-
lieve, that in his noble chivalrousness of char-
acter she might win him.

She hesitated, as one will do when an awfully
decisive crisis is at hand, and it was only when
she remembered all there was at stake, all she
hoped and desired, that she mustered her cour-
age and plunged into ker subject, shivering in-
voluntarily as one shivers when stepping into
an icy bath, and her voice trembled with genu-
ine emotion as she spoke.

“TJ will tell you,” she faltered, ‘‘I—I—am in
love, Roy.”

In an instant his face clouded sternly as he re-
called the sight he had seen that afternoon in
the sleigh. 4

“T could scarcely believe the evidence of my
senses when I saw you with Mr. Welsh this af-
ternoon. I had heard vague rumors, but had
denied them indignantly. So that is your se-

cret, Olga? You in love with Jerome
h, and you me to use my influence
with uncle Severn!”

 

‘“No! No! No!” she repeated, passionately.
“T hate him with all my soul—and you did
right to deny the disgraceful rumor. eis a
servant—not my suitor. Do you for a moment
imagine I could love—him?” she said, between
contemptuousness and reproach,

“‘T am glad to hear you say so, for I don’t
like theman. And I know uncle Severn would
never be reconciled to such a marriage. Who
then, Olga, is your lover, if itis not Mr. Welsh?”

She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes
again, and sobbed out her answer:

“He is not my lover, yet I have worshi
him for years. He is the handsomest, rioblest
man in the world, but, Roy—I am afraid he
does not care for me!”

Claremont listened gravely, an uncomfort-
able realization of his position occurring to
him, and not a suspicion as yet crossed his
mind as to himself being the object of Olga Os-
mond’s affections,

A little pause followed her sobbing con-
fession.

“Tam afraid I don’t quite understand you,
Olga. You are too proud to give your love un-
sought, too womanly to confess to such a be-
stowal, even to your own innermost thoughts.
You don’t just mean what you say—that you
fear you are not loved in return. You mean
that. you have not yet been assured, in so many
formal words, of that fact. Perhaps the gen-
tleman is gh and too proud to address himself
to you. Is not that correct, Olga?”

“No, that-is not it. I said what I meant—
you may despise me as you will, but 1 have
given my love unsought, and—I dare confess it
to you, use I have endured my ae un-
til I feel as if Ishould go mad. I lovehim, llove
him, with all my heart and soul and strength. I
watch him come and go, and I mourn for him,
and pray that I may die if he does not give me
his love—the love he is wasting on one who does
not care for him as I do. I am unwomanly I
know, I know, but, oh—Roy, Roy, are you blind
that you don’t see?”

She rose from her chair, her voice ringing out
in its real anguish of soul.

Claremont’s face flushed to his very temples,
and he, too, arose from his chair, not affecting
ee tee her.

“You witness my humiliation,” she inter-

rupted him, passionately, ‘‘ but you will not ex- .

ult over it for I know you are the soul of no-
bility. I have said the truth—oh, Roy, why
waste your life in lamenting a girl who either is
dead or has ceased to care for you—if she ever
truly did? Ilove you. I love you, Roy—will
_ not accept my love and let me devote my
ife to making you happy? I will be your
slave, I will obey you in all things, only have
ity on me who have so humbled myself for
ove’s sake to you!”

She had played her last card. She had done
her best. She had staked all things on the one
throw of the dice, and—stood waiting, breath-
less, cold as ice, for his response, that was like
the tolling of a funeral bell to her.

“Olga,” he said, after a pause, and his voice
was grave, sorrowful, yet pitying and kind,
“‘you_are wronging yourself and distressing
me. Ishall never marry unless I marry Miss
Carizelle—in justice to us both I assure you of
that, and I am confident that, when you look
the matter over again, you will find I could
not be untrue to both Stella and myself.”

As he finished, he lifted her hand and touched
it to his lips, respectfully and with an exquisite
delicacy that only made her the more madly
despairing.

‘Roy! Roy!” she cried; passionately, and
made a motion as though she meant to throw
aon in — arms.

e fius| again painfully, but his perfect
manliness and breeding never deserted him for
asecond. He retreated abruptly, however, as
he os patiently a

“JY will bid you good-night, Olga,” he said,
and made his adieus with a courtesy and re-
spect that even her unwomanly behavior had
not seemed to impair.

While Olga, sobbing with disappointment and
anger and shame -and despair, returned to her
rooms, and locked herself in.

CHAPTER XLIII.
A VILLAIN’S FRIENDSHIP.

ALTHOUGH gf Knight said nothing further
on the subject to her husband, she did not for a
moment abandon her resolute intention to dis-«
cover, by some means or other, the myster
she believed existed between him and Ste
Carizelle.

She was of course perfectly aware of the con-
dition of affairs regarding Miss Carigelle, and
knew that her discovery would not only be a
matter of wildest rejoicing to Mr. Claremont,
but a source of extreme — to Mr. Severn,
who, as her husband had told her, would make
Stella his heiress instead of himself.

_ Of course that one fact alone closed Sibyl’s
lips as to having seen the missing girl, and ad-
ded to her wing hatred and vague jealousy

 

of ber; while she resolved to leave no stone un-
turned to discover her whereabouts and learn
for herself the cause of her husband’s agitation

‘

 
    

38

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

and his subsequent statements, after they had
assed her on the street, Fortune favored her

a most marvelous way, for while her thoughts
had as yet scarcely taken positive form, she
met Stelia again—this time while she was driv-
ing in the Park with Mr. Rivers.

Stella had gone with Alda Redmond for a
sleigh-ride, and at the child’s request had left
the sleigh and accompanied her to get a nearer
view of the skaters, and was standing a little
opens from the crowd of lookers-on, when the
sleigh containing Mr. Rivers and Sibyl had

passed, and instantly stopped at Sibyl’s orders.

She indicated her to Mr. Rivers, to whom she
had just finished telling the story, and uad re-
ceived the best advice he could offer at the mo-
ment, and he had sprung from the sleigh and
stepped up to Stella, raising his seal-skin eap
in grave courtesy as he addressed her.

_ I beg your pardon, madam, but 1 think it is
Miss Carizelle? My name is Rivers, and my
niece in the sleigh there would be greatly
obliged if you would step to her for a moment,
on a matter of business.’

, Stella bowed slightly, and listened, surprised-
ly, then looked toward the sleigh where Sibyl
sat, Sbe did not recognize her, so brief had
been her sight of her the day before, and Sibyl
was dressed in an eaively different style, be-
sides weartna a double vail over her face.

“JT am Miss Carizelle,” she said, quietly.
** Alda, dear, come this way a moment; this
at, wishes to speak with me.”

8 patepped up to the sleigh, wondering for
what an absolute stranger could want her.

‘Thank you for taking the trouble,” Sibyl
said, graciously, as Stella bowed beside her.
“‘T saw you several weeks ago—in the early
autumn, I think, at a store 1 have forgotten

ow, and you hadsome exquisitely-painted satin

‘ans, I have wanted some ever since, and have
inquired for you in vain, Miss Carizelle, I am
so delighted to have met you.. When can you
fill an order for me?”

Sibyl glared from beneath her vail at the ra-
diant, pure face that had made her husband so
uncontrollably agitated at sight of it, and as if
she had read it as a revelation, she knew that
Clifford Knight was in love with the fair-
faced, fair-haired, blue-eyed girl.

But the vail concealed the evil, jealous flash
in her own eyes, that deepened at sound of
Stella’s lovely refined voice.

“T am not painting at present, or I should be
glad to fill youanorder. Iam engaged in adif-
ferent business entirely.”

“But have you no time of your‘own in which
you could do it for me, without taxing yourself
too greatly? I shall be so pp disappointed
if, atier having found you at last, 1 cannot
have the fans, I will give you ten dollars each
for five, ‘arizelle.”

Stella reflected. She would have no difficulty
whatever in doing the work at odd times, and
the additional money she might so earn would
be very acceptable to her. She ae doing
the painting, and nothing prevented her giving
a itive answer but the sense of honor under

which she felt bound.to devote all her time and
talent to Mrs. Redmond.

She looked up at Sibyl’s vailed face.

“T would like to paint the fans, but I am un-
able to say that I will at present. I will speak
to the in whose eniploy I am, and if she
has no objections, I will do them for you.”

“You will have to content yourself with that
probably, my dear,” Mr. Rivers said, as he
stepped back beside Sibyl in the sleigh. ‘I
will give Miss Carizelle my card, and if she
will be so good as to call at the address and give

ou the answer, and, if possible, receive your

tructions.”

He gave Stella his card, which she glanced at

‘Mark Rivers, —— Fifth avenue.”

“That will be the best way,” Stella answered.
“T will let you know ina day or so. I think the

answer will be favorable.”

_ |» She bowed, and Sibyl sunk back in her robes,
and Mr. Rivers touched his cap, and the sleigh

lided on, while Stella and little Alda con-

inued their walk for a few minutes longer and
then returned to the sleigh and were driven
back to the hotel.

At the earliest convenient opportunity she
laid the matter of Sibyl Knight’s offer before
Mrs. Redmond, und not only received that
lady’s prompt consent, but her cordial, friendly
encouragement.

“Tt is charming work, and you will enjoy it.
pesides adding to your income, my dear. 1
think I shall have you paint one for me after you
have finished those for the young lady. By all
means take the order—only, I shall not permit
you to overwork yourself. And now let me—”

Alda came flying in with a message.

‘A gentleman to see you, Miss Stella—oh!
ever so handsome, in the ladies’ parlor.”

A conscious little flush tinged Stella’s cheek
as she hesitated a moment. She was almost
sure it was Clifford Knight, and she did not

_ know whether or not she preferred to see him.
Since the day before yes y, when he’ had
been to clear himself of the ch against him,
she had thought much of what he had said,

1 sense of honorable justice, her

truthfulness, she had gradu-

and in her hi
own unimpeach

/

 

ally come to have faith in his sincerity, and to

believe that it was Roy Claremont’s betrothed

who was naturally but oh! so pitiably unneces-

sarily her enemy,

; Mrs. Redmond smiled ‘at the faint stain on her
ace.

“Go, my dear, but remember T cannot allow
any lover to claim you just yet.”

‘*T have no lover,” she answered, so sadly and
gravely that the smile instantly died off Mrs.

edmond’s face.

Stella slowly went to the parlor, where, as
she had expected, Knight was waiting—eager,
impatient, for he was desperately anxious to
have his fate decided so far as. she was con-
cerned. Every moment she remained in New

. York was one of danger to him, for Claremont, |
or Mr. Severn, or Thomas, or her bitter enemies,

Welsh and Mrs. Osmond, might any time meet
her face to face.

The hours since-he had seen her seemed
years, and he had only by the fiercest restraint
kept away from her until now—when he meant
to put his fate to the touch.

tella went forward toward him, grave, po-
lite and reserved. He stepped eagerly forward
and looked at her.

**T will not offer you my hand until I know
he verdict,” he said, impulsively. ‘‘ Miss

tella, has your justice, your nobleness of char-
acter, your womanly intuition won the day for
me, or am I still the blackest fiend that walks
the earth?”

He could not have said fitter words, and he
saw that Stella did not resent them.

“*T do not think you would have taken the
trouble to find me to repeat such a solemn de-
nial of the accusations unless you were honest.
Mr. Knight, I confess to you I believe, in
weighing it all carefully, that it'was not you
who were my enemy.”

_ He reached out his hand, his face brighten-

ing. -

“T thank ee You have taken a cruel load
off my shoulders—off myjheart, Miss Stella. 1
have not been so happy as I am this moment
since I said good-by to you at Gran.’s cottage.
And that reminds me that I have had your lug-
gage sent to the city, and it awaits your orders
at the Grand Central depot. It is all addressed
to Elsbeth, however—poor soul, Elsbeth Oppen-
heim, for i-was afraid if your name was upon
it that by some means or other Mrs. Osmond
might hear of it, and cause you further annoy-

ce.
Stella looked beh yal a8 at him—would an
er have taken such thoughtful trouble for

er f

‘‘You are very kind, Mr. Knight, very kind,
and I thank you. I have needed my trunks,
and—I will be so glad to-have dear old Els-
bech’s belongings.”

Her voice quivered a little, but she resolutely
put back the tears so ready to spring to her

eyes.

“If I have served you in the least degree I
am proud and happy,’ he said, gently. ‘I
think you know that to guard you and your
interests would be my highest pleasure. I have
known no rest _nor joy since you came to this
city last fall, Miss Stella, alone among stran-
gers, unused to the ways of city life, unaware
of its pitfalls, I have only lived in the hope—
presumptuous it mayj be, but none the less
sacredly sweet—that the time would come
when you would give me the blessed right to
protect you, Stella! Stella, alone, friendless.
with your cruel, .relentless enemy who would
hesitate at nothing—will you not let me be
your friend, your lover, your husband? Ac-

‘cept my care, my devotion, my love—will you,

may darling, my lovely little girl?”

here ‘was no doubting the genuine eeeaee
the thrilling tenderness in his voice. His face
was pale with agitation, his eyes glowing with
the ardor of his feelings.

Stella walked away, frightened at his vehe-
mence, so sudden, so entirely unexpected, and
stood beside the door.

“Mr. Knight,” she exclaimed, but he inter-
rupted her, walking up to her side, and con-
tinuing in low, passionate tones:

‘‘Don’t be angry—don’t go away! I would
not alarm or wound your tender heart for all
the world, my darling. I—”

“* Please do not speee such words to me, Mr.
Knight,” she said, falteringly. ‘‘I am not
angry, but you must not repeat such words
again. You mean well, you have offered me
all a man can offer a woman, but I never
dreamed of such a thing. I pe you for—
a—friend because you were—Mr. Claremont’s
friend and relative—”

‘ Not his friend—never his friend since he be-
reper his baseness by trifling with yon Stella!
If he had won and worn you for his rless
yi Ishould have died before I would ever

ave confessed the love that had its birth before
he loved you! Surely, surely, you are too proud
to wear the willow for a lover of another wo-
man, Stella. You are too just to refuse me my

hap iness on his account?”
i at is not the reason,” she said, troubledly,
yet.

gent . “It is because I do not care for
you, Mr. Knight—at all—that way.”
“But, I win your love, if devotion and

 

love can command a return. I will be content
with what you can give me, Stella.”

She drooped her queenly little fair-haired
head sadly, and he saw a slow flush creeping
from neck to brow. ;

“You force me to give you the true reason,”
she said, pitifully. ‘‘It is becauseI love Mr.
Claremont still, because, in spite of aH, I shall
alwayslovehim only. I know 1 am perhaps un-
maidenly in avowing my love for the lover of
another woman, but, with me to love once is to
love forever. Mr. Knight, I have told you the
sacred truth—after your offer to me I feel I was
bound to, whether or not itis distressing to me.”

She lifted one hand, and covered her sweet,
girlish face, all flaming with womanly shame
and despair.

“T know all that, ef
bre! abe gratis gb “but I will take you, more
honored and proud of your calmer affection,
your sweet trust, your friendship, than of an-
other woman’s first, best love, I will take what
Roy Claremont has left, if you will let me have
it.

She shook her head wearily.

“Nothing could ever alter my mind, Mr.
Knight. Ishall never be any man’s wife, and
you will do me the highest favor in your power
never to mention this painful subject again.”

There was a hopeless, yet convincing firmness
in her voice that told him she meant just what
she said. He did not immediately answer, but
turned sharply away and crossed the room to
the window, apparently to hide his crushed
feelings, in reality to conceal from her the com-
bined expression of baffled passion, blind rage,
Ce disappointment. that made a tempest
within him

i :

If Stella had seen him at that moment, all her
now regretful pity for him would have fled at
once and forever, but she did not see, and when
he returned and bade her good-by, there was
only a pale sternness in his face that betrayed
nothing. ;

“Forgive me,” he said, quietly, ‘If I may
not be your lover, I will be your friend.”

He shook hands, and went away, swearing as
he went, that since fair means had not suc-
ceeded, foul means should. j

poor child,” he said,

 

CHAPTER XLIV.
A GHOST FROM THE PAST.

Since the hour Mr.-Severn had told Olga, in
the presence of Jerome Welsh, his intentions in
regard to her if she persisted in disgracing her-
self by marrying him, he had been more re-
served than usual in his manner toward her,
and although never failing in his courtesy to
her, Olga was conscious of his displeasure and
took every means in her power, despite her
personal feelings, to disabuse him of his pre-
possessions against her.

, for almost the first

During these past da;

time in his life, Mr. Severn had been made
aware of his fallibility, physically, and more
than once, or twice, or oftener, after an unusual
amount of work, or a serious, grave interview
with Claremont or Thomas eoncerning the
missing girl, Mr. Severn was forced to admit
suffering from headache and a languid gloomi-
ness he could not shake off, that perplexed and
depressed him. .

t was the day following the interview Olga
had had with Roy Claremont, that Mr. Severn
drove down-town to Thomas’s office, and was
shown into the lawyer’s sanctum, where, after
a moment, Thomas joined him—the first time
he had seen Mr. Severn for a fortnight, and an
involuntary inquiry accompanied his greeting.

“T am glad to have ycu drop in. But are
you sick, Mr. Severn?”

Mr, Severn laughed, and drew off his gloves
and threw them on the table, as Thomas wheeled
up a large easy-chair before the fire. ;

“Sick? Why, no, of course I am not sick.
When did you ever hear me complain of feeling
badly in my life? You look at me as though
you didn’t believe me. I came in to speak
about that mortgage on the Boulevard property,
Thomas. Mavray has about decided to buy.
Just look it up, will you, while I wait.”

Thomas obeyed, but continuing to regard Mr.
Severn with half curious concern, surprised at
the change he detected in his grand, handsome
face, and yet unable to tell where the change
was—a vague, unnatural languidness of ex-
pression, accompanied by a ‘curious brightness
of his eyes.

The desired documents were brought forth
from the safe, and a short time devoted to
them, after which, as was always the case, con-
versation drifted to Stella Carizelle.

“Tt is wearing on me, I sometimes think,”
Mr. Severn said, gloomily—‘‘ and as much for
Roy’s sake—perhaps more than for my own.
etal there’s no news, or I’d have been
told.

“There is no news,” Thomas said, quietly.
“YetIam at work keeping up the search, I
am convinced the young lady is alive, although
‘ ‘pe ates made up my mind it could not pos-

ry, be. hee meena

‘And what has changed your mind?”

Mr. Severn’s eyes looked at the lawyer with
that strange, keen brightness in them so dif-
ferent from his usual steady gaze.

1 f

 

 

a

 

 
 

 

when I knew you, the name was Mrs,

 

 

iN MORTAL PERIL.

389

 

 

‘*-You remember the telegram Mr. Knight re-
ceived? You remember, his suppressed agita-
tion? I suspected then there was more to that
dispatch than we knew. know now. I can
give you that message, Mr. Severn, for it was

ut one word—‘ Escaped.’ On that one sug-

estive word I have based an entirely new
theary, which I am slowly following out—with
no results as yet, but the very first ray of light
I see I will tell you and Claremont what I am
doing.

Mr Severn looked astonished.

“The telegram was ‘ Escaped, Thomas—you
do not suspect Clifford Knight of—”

‘Wait a little, Mr. Severn. I dare accuse no
one yet, and, for the sake of what I hope
complish, I dare not mention my suspicions, I
think I shall find her, sir, and make . Clare-
mont the happiest man in the world. By the
way, Mr. Severn, Mr. Knight does not know
of your destruction of the will that made him
your heir?”

‘How should he know? votainly, he does
not, nor is it necessary he should. T shall re-
member him handsomely, and he will not need
more.” : .

Thomas’s stern, bald forehead wrinkled
Ne ee, and anxiously.

““You have not accepted. my opinion of his
wife, Mr. Severn?”

“No, I haven’t. Sibyl is most devoted to
me, and was almost the first to tell me of the
change in my looks, and beg me to send for Dr.
Edmeston.”

‘‘And I think you would do well to follow
her advice in this instance, for you certainly
are not in your usual health and vigor, or—”

Mr. Severn interrupted him almost testily:

“Nonsense! Don’t you be a croaker, too,
Thomas. It’s bad enough for Sibyland Olga to
amuse themselves over a few symptoms of fa-
tigue and mental depression consequent upon
the excitement of the last few months, but
don’t you do it, too.”

He arose from his chair, and took his leave
directly after, going directly home, where, a
little to his surprise and annoyance, he found
himself thoroughly weary—so that he was ob-
liged to rest for awhile upon the lounge in the
ante-room off the library.

At luncheon that day Sibyl waited upon him
with affectionate devotion, pouring his coffee
herself, and recommendin, erent dainties,
laughing and chatting with him, and dexter-
Git drawing Olga into the conversation, while
Knight, rather quiet, was yet attentive and

fa i

ee luncheon Sibyl poe husband wat
to their own apartments, and Olga prepared for
her oe a drive, ordering a cutter
from the stables, in the determination of baf-
fling Welsh in case he attempted the second
time to intrude upon her.

Her maid had nearly completed her toilet,
when a servant rap on the dressing-room
bearing a message—that a woman wished

“You should have known better than to have
brought me such a message. I do not receive
beggars,’ she replied, haughtily. ‘‘Send her to
the housekeeper.”

The servant retired in confusion, but returned
several minutes later, in a most deprecating
manner, bearing.a scrap of paper on a tiny sil-
ver mtg Ea ae er ave! .

not a beggar, ng your pardon,
Mrs. Osmond, She says se conan on a matter
of most important business, and that you’d be
pleased to see her when you read the mes-

2. ”
“Ol ’s eyes flashed impatiently as she snapped
the ond buckle on her bracelet.
“T told you I would not see her,” she said,
imperiously, ‘You may tell her—”
But she had glanced casually at the scrap of
paper whose coarse writing was legible several
‘steps distant, and as she caught sight of it
two words—‘“‘ Mrs, Sargent,” a sudden, startled,
desperate look came to her haughty eyes, and
she drew alittle hushed breath, and then quick-
ly reached and took the scrap, that read:

“‘ Mrs, Eliza Conners has news of Mrs, Sargent.”’

Olga’s voice had a strange, repressed hush in
it as she twisted the paper around her jeweled
fingers, and said:

_ Ah—an old servant, Show her up, Peter-
son. And, Christine, will you go at once to Le

_ Boutellier’s for the lace I need for my fichu for
this evening?” |

Peterson withdrew, and a moment after

+ Olga’s maid had left the dressing-room, ushered
4 E Conners into the boudoir—a pale, wer §
\ shabbily-dressed creature, with a flush of bold
tation on her face that struck a terror to
’s heart for one little second. The next,
possessed, haughty self again—

she was her self-
out ly. :
_You ‘wish to see me, Mrs.—ah—yes, Mrs.
Conners?” she said, languidly, as if by an effort

memory. .
“I \wish to see you, Mrs. Osmond, rake
ir. Sar-

gent.”
Olga stared, as if astounded.
[ eee Dr. Sargent!” she repeated. “What

)

to ac- |

 

do you mean by saying that was ever my
name?” se

“‘T mean just what I say—that was the name
I knew aon by, sixteen or seventeen years ago,
in California. Your memory don’t seem as
good as mine, madam.”

Olga was sitting back in her chair, tapping
one boot swiftly beneath her skirt, regarding
the pale, determined woman before her with
feelings she did not in the least betray.

“You are laboring under a strange delusion.
I am Mrs. Osmond, my name was never
Sargent, my good woman. ‘You have mis-
taken me for some one else,”

Eliza Conners stepped closer up to Olga, a
slow, sarcastic smile on her thin face.

«Wor years I have made it the object of my
life to find you, and I would ’a’ known you if
V’d‘met you in Kamtschatka. Is it likely I’d
forget you, do you think? And isn’t it natural
I should call youu by the name you gave me out
in California? Yesterday I saw you driving in
Central Park, with your velvets and sealskins
and your liveried servants, rich and aristocratic

and eg in luxury, and me—poor, half-
clothed, half-sick, afoot. I’ve got natural feel-
feelin: mond, I mean,

, Mrs. ata
and when I remembered the time you adopted
my little girl, I felt as though I would have to
fly to get to you, to inquire about her and
see if you’d not do something for me. What
became of my little child, Mrs. Sar—Osmond?
There’s no need of your playing off ignorant!
I know you and you know me, and, knowin
that you have no child, and hearing from
authority that you never had one, of your own
or adopted, I want to know what you did with
mine. If you don’t tell me, Pl go to your
uncle, Mr. Severn, and ask him.”

Olga’s desperate eyes suddenly drooped be-
neath Eliza Conners’s steady, inquiring gaze,
and she compressed her lips in the struggle she
was suffering between fear and desperation and
horrible anxiety—a struggle that lasted so long,
that, in impatience, Mrs. Conners repeated her
question:

“TY want to know—I will know—where is my
child?” 3

Olga made more than one effort before-her
parc! riehar would syllable the answer:

‘*Tt’s—dead.” ;

Mrs. Conners suddenly sat down, a little cry
coming from her pale lips.

“Dead! Well, I almost expected it would
die, and yet it cuts me to the heart to know it.
Dead! Poor little sickly thing—if it had been
strong and healthy I never would have let you
had it, but, being as your husband was a doc-
tor—leastwise I thought so then—and you told
me that it should have everything in the world
that money could buy, I thought it was my
duty to my baby-girl to let you adopt her.”

‘*And so she had everything that money
could buy. . Yet she died, in a short time,”
a managed tosay. ‘‘Shewasa pretty little
thing, with her blué eyes and yellow hair, and
Ihoped she would—live.”

Mrs. Conners looked curiously at her.

“It never was quite clear to me why you, a
rich, newly-married lady, scarcely more than a
girl yourself, should have wanted to adopt a
little delicate child like mine—and if we hadn’t
been too aes to give her the medicines she
needed and the dainty food you and the doctor
said would build her up, you’d never got her.
I didn’t know then, but—Mrs.—Osmond, I
know now, I think.” :

Olga looked startledly at the cold, heartless
my oe ee 4a ty

on’t know w! ‘ou mean,” she gas|

“T will tell you. Lf have been ieating in.
quiries, and this is what I have learned—that
after the death of Mr. Severn’s wife, there was
only his bay daughter between you and your
inheritance of his fortune. If that little child
died—you would be benefited. You dared not
remove ‘her—but—you dared to take my little
consumptive baby and palm her off as your
real cousin. What you did with her I don’t
know. She may be dead, she may be alive—
but, so strong are my suspicions, that unless
you pay me well to kee my mouth shut, I'll

o to your uncle and tell him what I believe.
am Goan I am ignorant, I am nobody, but,

Mrs. Osmond, I can cause you trouble, if no
more.”
Olga’s hand shaded her face that was white

and desperate. Her heart was beating slowly,
heavily, and every labored pulsation throbbed

against the little crystal vial beneath her cor-

set. $

“You have come to extort money from me,”
she said, at last, ‘and while I neither acknowl-
edge nor deny a word you have said, I still, in
pity for your evident poverty, am wii to
assist you. I will give you twenty-five do!
now. Every week you may have a i
amount, which I will send BG through the
ree to your address, ill that satisfy
ou

you?’
‘‘For the present—it will satisfy and silence
me

She took the bills and went away, and Olga
threw herself on the low satin couch, with a
moan of bitter desperation, .

“Where is all this to end? Oh, where will it

 

all end? Enemies are on every side, at every
hand, and my spirit is failing before them!” °

Truly, Olga Osmond, rich, beautiful, courted,
admired, envied, was realizing that “the way
of the transgressor is hard!”

 

CHAPTER XLV,
A DAWN OF LIGHT.

In accordance with her promise to Mrs.
Knight, and the advice of Mrs. Redmond,
Stella went to the address on the card Mr.
Rivers had given her, the afternoon following
that on which Clifford Knight had made his
proposal of marriage to her.

‘The confession of his love for her was hardly
a surprise to Stella, for she had known for a
long time that he regarded her differently from
an ordinary friend, and yet, coming as it did,
under such peculiar circumstances, after such
peculiar circumstances, she was perhaps more
amazed than she would otherwise have been.”

As has been recorded, Stella had sifted the
evidence Knight submitted to her—the evidence
of his own word, only, to be sure, but, in her
own high sense of honor and perfect Ake of
nature, she felt conscientiously bound to give
him the benefit of the doubt that arose in her
own mind, when he had presented his calm,
grave array of facts. She had refused him, of
course. Even if she never had seen Roy Clare-
mont, and given her whole affection to him,
Stella would not have cared for Clifford Knight;
and, having dismissed him, gently, she did not
further dwell upon the matter, nor did she be-
tray in the least degree, to Mrs. Redmond, the
nature of the interview that had been so im-
portant to at least one of the two.

That evening, after Alda was asleep, Stella
peut a couple of hours drawing designs for
the fans she intended to paint for Mrs. Knight,
and placed them carefully ina book Mrs. ~
mond loaned her, until the’ next day, when, her
morning duties accomplished,’ and luncheon
over, and Mrs. Redmond and Alda gone fora

riding and ie ing expedition, Stella went to
the address on the card. ;
Her summons at the silver gong on’ the wal-
nut door was promptly answe by the hall
rter, of whom she d to be shown to “‘ Miss
ivers.” :
The servant looked surprised.

“There is no ‘ Miss Rivers’ here, miss, You
must have made a mistake.”

Stella looked —S at Mr. Rivers’s card.

‘Perhaps itis Mrs. Rivers—I call by tan
ment to see the young lady whose name I sup-
posed was the same as this on the card.” *

The man glanced at the card Mr. Rivers had
given her. :

“Oh, that’s all right. It’s Mr. Rivers’s niece

fhe mean, miss, buf her name is Mrs. Knight.

ease to step in a moment.”

Stella followed him into a little ante-room
Cant way down the hall, her suddenly
mbling as she walked, her face curious!
pale and agitated beneath the blue tissue v:

she wore. : :

“Mrs. Knight!” What a strange coincidence,
if Sear anne it eats ; can a

e aj rance of a spruce young
maid dissipated her thoughts. : ne
aa come with me; Mrs. Knight ex-
s you. k ,

She followed the servant up the grand stair-
case, and through a wide, elegant corridor into
the room that was still especially at Sibyl’s ser-
vice, where Sibyl was seated, elaboratel
dressed in a pink velvet robe de chambre, with
. a of white ep black lace = re it.

er bluish-gray eyes ‘a curious, hungry
brightness in them as she nodded at Stella,

“Come in, Miss Carizelle, I was expecting
tosee you. Tam toconclude you will under-

take my commission, I suppose, or you would
BH totes: Be seated.” rs

She was condescendin: ious, and Stella
bowed gravely utting backther little vail, and
taking the chair indicated. ,

“T am at liberty to undertake the commis-

sion for you, madam, and have brought you
cimens of the different designs. Mrs. Knight

Ethink the servants said yourname was? Iin-
quired for you by the name on the card.”

Sey laughed. ; J

“Yes, Tam Mrs. Knight—rather an ordinary
sort of name, isn’t it?” ~~ d

“‘T have heard it before,” Stella said, quietly,
but there was a little curious paleness still on
her face. ‘Allow me to show you these de- —
signs. This half-wreath of lilies and lily-buds|
and leaves would be suitable on a blue satin

und. This spray of Safrano roses and vio-

ets and white hyacinths on a cardinal satin.
This group of a humming-bird and a butterfly
would suit a white rca These others would
be ppprupciate on almost any color.”

Sibyl examined the sketches attentively.

“They are exquisite, Miss Cari: a
have the handsomest fans of any one I know.
I like them all équally. Where did you learn
to do such fect work? Do you paint as well

as you di "
a T think so; I was taught the art thoroughly
“Ab! T imagined I detected a foreign air

i

 
 

40

IN- MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

 

about you. French Canadian, I presume? And
yet ee do not have a foreign look.”

“T am American, madame,” Stella said, quiet-
ly, rolling up her tissue-paper designs. ‘‘ If
you will be so good as to give me your
fans—

Sibyl interrupted her, with a little laugh.

“Are you in such *aste to get away, Miss
Carizelle? I must confess to quite an absorbing
interest in you. You are so talented, and so
beautiful—I dare say you have plenty of
lovers?”

Stella drew herself haughtily up, and Sibyl
at once saw she had gone @ step too far in her
impatient eagerness,

“T beg yur pardon if I spoke too freely—I
am in the habit of saying whatever I think—
uncle and my husband spoil meso. You must
pardon me, Miss Carizelle. But before you go,

would like to have Mr. Knight see these de-
si you intend for me. I will call him.”

he arose and went into the dressing-room, a
baleful light in her eyes, a look of evil exulta-
tion on ber mouth, as she thought, with feverish
impatience, that now she should kmow for her-
self if there was anything between these two
that it had been intended she should not know.
Since Stella had been there, her suppressed ex-
citement, her pale face, had not escaped her,
and she felt that her suspicions were almost
verified—it needed only to bring them face to
face to make them a certainty.

Stella sat and waited, strangely still, listening
to Sibyl’s call.across the hall to the billiard -
room where Mr. Rivers was keeping him until
the eventful moment.

“T want you a moment, Clifford—at once, if

you will!”
And his familiar tones in answer:
“ All right.. Coming.”

Sibyl returned, a smile she could not conceal
on her face as she reseated herself, with a
glance at Stella’s grave face,

And then, careless footsteps crossed the hall,
and Clifford Knight sauntered in, his glance
falling directly upon the slender, haughty
figure which arose at his entrance and turned

its blue eyes full upon him,
He looked at her in dead silence for several
seconds. His face ually turned livid. He

stood like an animal suddenly brought to bay.
For several seconds not a word was spoken, and
then St laughed, a low, harsh, jeering laugh,
that suddenly aroused him from his momentary
petrifaction, and brought a savage fire to his
eyes, and a curse to his lips that betrayed his
uncontrollable fury and raging desperation, and
then, stung even more madly by the consum-
mate disdain and unspeakable contempt in
Stella’s face: realizing, now, that an absolute
end of all his hopes, his wicked schemes had in-
fallibly come, he strode up to her, so menacing,
so terrible in his passion that she involuntarily
stepped back a pace or so. :

is voice actually hissed ashe spoke to her—
that, twenty-four hours before, had plead for
her love:

‘What are you doing here? You have dared
to track.me to tell your lying story to—”

; A look as stern, as commanding as the ma-
jesty of death was on Stella’s face as she inter-
ru him,

‘Stop! -I have a question for you. Are you
this lady’s husband, Clifford Knight?’

Sibyl interrupted his answer.

Bs ou know that he is. Did I not tell you
80

Stella did not remove her eyes from Knight’s

jion-pale face.

“Answer me, You are her husband?”

A perfectly satanic smile parted his lips be-
neath his mustache.

“She is my wife!”

“ And your accusers were just ones, after all.
You are, then, the man I thought you before I
tried to believe your vindication.”

The supreme, quiet scorn in her voice, the su-

rb hauteur in her face and manner, the gall-
ing knowledge that she had not only escaped
him, but knew of his ignominious villainy, com-
bined to make him nearly beside himself with
furious passion.

“How dare you speak such lying, insulting
words? How @ you track mo here, to re-
peat your infamous story—”

“ Thave not tracked you,” she said, quietly, his
words suddenly ceasing in sheer breathlessness of
rage. ‘I came by appointment, on a matter
of ess, not knowing you lived here, or that
the lady was—Mrs. Knight. This discovery is
by purely fateful accident. And this lady is
your wife?”

She looked at Sibyl in grave pity, receiving
in return a flashing glance of jealous hatred.

“She is my wife,” he repeated, doggedly.
“Sibyl, what has this girl been saying to you
about me?’

An evil little smile made Sibyl show all her

teeth,

“You are getting ahead too fast, Clifford,”
sho said, coolly. ‘She has told.me nothin
whatever. You remember I said to you I ha
my es and I would ferret the thing out,

cost what it would? I met her accidentally in

the Park, and arranged far her to meet you
, judging by the mysteriously vague

 

words that have passed between you, I_ am
uite sure my suspicions are correct. Clif-
ord, what is there between, you and this girl?”

“There is nothing between us. now
nothing of her, except that she entertained
Claremont and me last summer, I have never
seen her since, until the day Isaw her in the
sleigh. There is no mystery—unless she chooses
to make one.”

“* Indeed!” Sibyl said, chillingly. ‘* Miss Cari-
zelle, does your side of the story agree with
this? Is there anything between you and my
husband?”

Stella’s lips curled with & scorn she could not

repress.. She gathered up her papers again, and |

drew on her gloves. i

“There is nothing between your husband and
myself, madam—you may rest assured of that.
Do not think I could sink so low as to permit
such a contamination. I am poor and obscure,
but Ihave no intention whatever of exposing
what I know of your husband. You need have
no fear of me, Clifford Knight.”

Of the three, she was the only cool, self-pos-
— one, and she walked quietly toward the

oor,

‘“ As though either of us feared you, you bold
creature,” Sibyl said, insolently. ‘1 suppose
you understand the fan business was merely an
excuse to get you here—you may go, now, and
you needn’t trouble yourself about the hand
painting:”

Stella bowed her lovely little head with a
queenliness which Sibyl’s coarse vulgarity had
no power to disturb, and went out into the hall,
followed by Knight, whose tempest of insult-
ing.rage had spent itself, leaving him terrified
and appalled at the prospect in store for him, if
Stella so chose.

In a hurried, eager tone, he implored her not
to expose him, to keep the whole disgraceful af-
fair a secret.

She listened, as an angel might listen to the
wail of a lost soul,

“T told_you you need not fear me, Mr.
Knight. I have no intention of heralding
abroad your wicked infamy—your conscience
will be your own accuser. I do not know what
is true or what-is not true.in the whole affair,
but I do know that you have treated me shame-
fully. And yet—I leave you to your own con-
science and to Him.”

She passed on, and went down the stairs to
find, when the porter opened the door, that it
was snowing fast and furiously. There was no
horse-car at hand, and she went rapidly along
facing the wind and driving sheets of snow.

At the corner of Union Square and Four-
teenth street she paused, almost breathless from
her laborious walk, and lifted her vail the better
to watch for the stage she wished to take.

And, as she stood there, the wintry wind
blowing about her, now whirling the snow-
flakes blindingly around her, now revealing her
distinctly, Roy Claremont, from the window
of his parlor in the hotel opposite, where he
was standing, grave, thoughtful, in one of his
most anxious, depressed moods, suddenly gave
a cry like a madman.

“Stella!” he called, and rushed down the
stairs into the street, utterly regardless of what
might be said.

ut, when he reached the spot where she had
stood, she was gone, as utterly, as though she
had been a spirit of the storm, or a cruel delu-
sion of his heated imagination.

 

CHAPTER XLVI.
A FATEFUL DISCOVERY,

Uron Lavine Mr. Rivers’s residence, Stella
had returned directly to the hotel, all uncon-
scious that she had been seen and recognized By
Mr. Claremont. Her unexpected meeting wit!
Clifford meat and the startling discovery of
his villainy, ad unnerved her, despite the pers
fect. self-possession and cold disdain she
shown during the interview.

Now that the story Knight had told her about
her secret enemy being Mrs. Osmond had been
exploded by his sullen, desperate admission of
his own horrible treachery, Stella naturally
epee are upon what Mrs, Osmond must have
thought at her failure to keep her engagement
with her. : '

Thinking made her grave and quiet durin
the evening, and although Mrs. mond di

not speak of it, Stella was aware she observed

At night she could not rest, for it
than

her manner,
seemed to her that life was a harder thin

‘she was able to bear, and faithful old Elsbeth’s

loss, her own isolated friendlessness, weighed
heavily upon: her, in view of the cruel treachery
that had been visited upon her by both appar-
ent friends, that when the morning came, the
marks. of her sleepless, tearful vigil were plain-
ly revealed in. her bister-circled eyes, her pale,
sorrowful face,

Yet her sweet, gracious gentleness was not
disturbed, and she performed her duties con-
scientiously and cheerfully, until Mrs. on!
reminded her that she was to devote an hour or
80 to her painting, ;

To her curprise, Stella’s face flushed a trifle.

‘*¥ am not to paint the fans,” she said, grave-
ly. “The lady has changed her mind.”

 

Mrs. Redmond looked at her, in quiet amaze-
ment,

Bante her mind! And she was so over-
joyed at having found you.” :

*Yes,” Stella said, a little sudden faltering
in her voice, and then the tears rushed to ‘her
sweet blue eyes.

‘(My dear,” Mrs. Redmond said, very grave-
ly, “‘1. am your friend, if you have any trouble
you wish to confide, or advice to ask. I am
aware you are not like other young girls of
your age, gay and merry and happy. f know
you are grave and thoughtful and womanly be-
yond your years—as though trouble greater
than your old servant’s death weighted you
down. Your disappointment at not getting the
lady’s commission for the panning, would not
affect you as you seem to affected. Can I
hel you, OF comfort you, my little motherless
girl?

The sweet, tenderly compassionate voice spoke
the first words of affection Stella had heard
since Elsbeth had left her, and, besides Els-
beth’s, the only words of honest tenderness she
had heard in all the we: months since she
had left her island home. Her lips quivered,
and. with a little cry,of heart-sickness, she
buried her face in her hands, and cried blessed,
relieving tears.

Mrs. Rigmond did not attempt to restrain
the stormy grief that shook the girl’s slender
frame, but gently smoothed the fair, shining
hair in loving silence, until, presently, the sobs
ceased, and Stella lifted her pure, tear-stained.
face.

“You are so good,” she said, softly. ‘“T
should not have given way so, but—everything
seemed so hard to bear, and it has been so long
since any one spoke to me—as you did. Mrs.
Redmond, I need _a friend, a woman friend, to
whom I may tell my story, who will tell me
what to do.” ’

“Whatever you wish to say to me, dear, will
be a sacred confidence, and.I will advise you to
the best. of my. ability, as 1 would have any one
advise my Alda,” °

Sitting on a hassock beside Mrs. Redmond,
Stella poured forth her pitiful story, from the
hour Roy Claremont had first seen her, until the
moment she returned from the interview with
Clifford Knight and. his wife. She spoke in
quick, impassioned tones, every word of which
thrilled with unimpeachable truth and honesty.
She felt she could implicitly trust Mrs. Red-
mond, and she kept back nothing, and an-
swered the few questions Mrs. Redmond asked
her, in perfect honesty.

‘When she had finished, there were tears stand-
ing in Mrs. Redmond’s gentle eyes, and she bent
over and kissed the pure, saintly forehead of.

the xoung fy '

“Child, I believe every syllable of your
dramatic story, and I will be your champion
and your friend more than ever. You have had
your darkest days, Stella, 1 think—certainly
73 will never be friendless again while I live.

cannot give you your lover again, dear—I wish
I could, but, with God’s help, even that will not
be so sore a burden as the time goes on. I need
time to think over itall before I tell you whether
or not it is your duty to see Mrs. Osmond, or
Mrs. Claremont I presume it is by this time.
To-morrow we will talk it over again.”

She kissed her again, tenderly, and left her
alone, while she and Alda went out, as usual.

For a little while, Stella walked slowly up and
down the room, and then went over to one of the
lace-draped windows, and, standing back of the
curtains, looked gravely out on the passing
crowds, The brief snow-storm of the previous
day had cleared away, and the bright sky and
clear, frosty air had enticed gay throngs to the
thoroughfares, and Stella looked almost sadly
down at the happy-faced women who passed,

And then, a cutter, drawn by a magnificent
bay trotter, whose silver bells clanged pyeiy.
was forced to a temporary stand-still just in
front of her window, and, with a little heart-
breaking, passionate cry, Stella looked down on
Roy Claremont’s beloved face for the first time
since he had kissed her that fair autumn day in
Mr, Leigh’s study.

She had a perfect view of him as he sat up-
right, holding his restless, prancing horse with
taut lines, and steady, strong hands—so hand-
some, so kingly, so gloriously above all other
men, and with a little sob of passionate Sogent
Stella cropped to her knees, and_pitifull
reached out her arms toward him, and cried h:

name,

And then, the blockade was broken, and he
went on, out of sight of her longing, yet heart-
sick gaze, and she buried her white face in her
hands and moaned in absolute anguish and
jealous pain—until, her grand pride rose up
and reproached her for so worshiping another
woman’s lover—perhaps her husband. Not that
her pride could in the least degree banish her
love, but, she permitted it to hush her com-
plaining and bury her sorrow deep in the silence

d-| of her faithful heart.

An hour earlier than her custom, Mrs. Red-
mond returned, and at once sent for Stella to
come to her sitting-room, where Stella found
her, her street wraps scarcely removed.

“T have something absolutely marvelous to

\

 
 

ie alee

+

 

ee et

   
   
  
    
  
  
  
 

   

  
 

ried to Mrs.
_ ners’s story be true—he may learn how un-

- qminute’s time, Stella. We will attend to

“IN MORTAL PERIL.

4A

 

 

tell you,” Mrs. Redmond said, with a sup-
pressed excitement about her whose forced
quietness infected Stella at once. ‘‘Sit down,
and [ will say it as concisely as possible.”

Stella obeyed, wonderingly, a strange, vague
agitation seizing her in spite of herself.

‘* Alda and I drove directly to the tenement-
house where the woman has rooms who has
done my laces. for several years—a Mrs. Con-
ners. 1 found her in a state of high excite-
ment, confined by fever to her lounge, and
upon asking her what was the matter, she as-
tonished me with a story so amazing that I see
plainly the hand of Providence in directing me
to her to-day of all days. My dear, this Eliza
Conners has solved the mystery of your fate
for you. Hush—don’tspeak, but let me tell you.
It was seventeen or so years ago that Mrs.
Osmond, under an assumed name, then a young
wife of seventeen herself, adopted Eliza Con-
ners’s infant girl, while she—Mrs. Osmond (or
Mrs. Sargent, as Eliza knew her), was in at-
tendance upon her aunt and infant, Mrs. Sev-
ern and daughter. rs. Severn died, and the
adopted babe—Eliza Conners’s child, was taken
home in its coffin, and Ear off upon its fa-
ther as his infant, while the real daughter of
the Severns, a beautiful little blue-eyed, fair-
haired child, was placed in an asylum at San
Francisco, and taken therefrom by a gentleman
named—Leigh. Stella, you understand? Hush!
not yet, my dear! In course of time—”

But Stella had sprung to her feet, white as
death, her eyes shining like lamps, her hands
clasped on her breast, in a perfect bewilder-
ment of almost unendurable astonishment.

“You may wonder how Eliza Conners dis-
covered this,” Mrs. Redmond continued. “It
seems she has been looking for ‘ Mrs. Sargent,’
or—Mrs. Osmond—your cousin, Stella, for

ears, and only discovered her—and estab-

ished her identity a wet or so ago, when Mrs.

Osmond admitted the little Conners child was
dead, but would neither deny or admit more.
Eliza is a keen, shrewd woman. She had
learned that by the death, or supposed death of
the heiress of Severn, Mrs. Osmond would in-
herit a large fortune, and, her suspicions taking
form, she spent almost the entire amount of
money Mrs. Osmond gave her in telegraphing
to the Foundling Asylum in San Francisco for
necessary information, and received the undis-
putable fact that a irl had been left there, at
abuut the supposed date, with fair hair and
blue eyes, who ha.l, sort ge been adopted
by a gentleman named .Leigh, information cf
which was forwarded at the time to ‘ Mrs, Sar-
gent’ in New York city. My darling—there
seems very little doubt but that the little fair-
haired child is—you.” :

Stella had been walking up and down while
Mrs. Redmond was talking, her face growing
paler and more wonder-stricken at each word of
dramatic revelation. Finally, as if rousing
from a trance, she spoke, for the first time:

“Tt almost frightens me! It cannot be true,
it could not be: that I1—/—have a father who
would love me, whom I could love!”

“JT think the story worthy of every belief,
yet I want you to test it, Stella. It may be—
it must be—that Mrs. Osmond has somehow
learned of your being in the city, and through
fear of possible discovery, she planned to re-
move you—just how, I am_ not able to under-
stand, or how it happened that Mr. Knight was
transformed into your jailer. But, what I ad-
vise a to do is ee a the position
tor which the housekeeper at Mr. Severn’s told

‘Mrs. Conners a quiet, intelligent, ladylike per-

son was required—a sort of day attendant upon
Mr. Severn, who is quite ill, whose duties will
be to read to him, act as his secretary, wait
upon him generally, a task which it seems he
will not permit either of his nieces to per-
form.”

Stella’s blue eyes flashed excitedly.
_**Oh, Mrs. Redmond, yes, I will
the position. It is the place for me—if 6 is
my father—oh, how I should like to see him
again, how I should like to meet him, and de-
vo myself to him, day after day, unknown to

im!

mt

“T think it can be r:adily managed, Of
course, you would meet Mrs. Osmond every
day, but there would be no danger of her recog-
nizing you, as you would necessarily be suf-
ficiently. disguised. I can give you a recom-
‘mendation which will assist you in your plans
—your commendable plans of discovering the
secret of ane parentage.”

‘*T will bless you all my life,” Stella said,
warmly. ‘Help me to procure this situation.
I feel I have strength and courage to meet any

one, day after day, secure beneath my disguise.

“And perhaps— Mrs, Redmond!” she said,

; aay: pleadingly—‘“‘is it wrong for me to

hope that, since Mr. Claremont is not re mar-

Osmond, that—if all Mrs. Con-
worthy she is of him?” ;

“‘Tsit wrong? it would be a just duty to
perform to disenchant him. We will not lose a
our
disguise to-night, and to-morrow you shall go
among your enemies and bring their counsels to

“naught—God willing!”

/ CHAPTER XLVII.
t IN THE MIDST.

Mr, Severn was alone in his library, where
for an hour or so he had been engaged in look-
ing over certain items of business that demand-
ed his personal attention.

The day was cold ard dull, and he bad not
thought it prudent to go tohis Wall street office
in consequence of the increased sensation of fa-
tigue and prostration that, during these past
days, had developed into severe spasmodic at-
tacks of faintness and deathly weakness that
had several times sent him reeling to the lounge
in the anteroom, and set him to seriously ask-
ing himself what the strange illness was that
had so suddenly and inexplicably seized him.
He had fought against it, determined to master
the horrible sensations, reso ved to conquer the
foe that seemed to have him in a crue ipe,
but, so soon, he had learned that he cculd not
fight it, that he could oy, yield when the dis-
tressing paroxysms seized him. :

Such an attack seized him now, and he stag-
Sabre to the lounge, pale, faint, gasping for his

reath, the perspiration standing in great drops
on his face, his heart throbbing heavily and

ainfully. It was decidedly the worst attack

e had had, and it seemed to him it must surel:
be his death-agony. He had sped the bell-
rope and rung a peal that instantly summoned
the housekeeper to his side, who reached him
just as Mr. Thomas was ushered into the
room.

A glance showed them both that Mr. Severn
was in extreme suffering, and the housekeeper
approached him anxiously.

‘Shall I not send for your physician, sir?
Or at least let me call Mrs. Osmond or Mrs.
Knight?’

‘“No—no,” Mr. Severn said, faintly. “I don’t
want either of them—any one. It will pass
over presently, I think. A glass of water,
Thomas—quickly. I am scorched from my
mouth down.”

The lawyer poured a glass of ice-water, and
Mr. Severn drank it eagerly, with a sigh of re-
lief as he drained the last cooling drop.

‘“‘It relieves the agony for awhile,” he said.
“T am better now—I will be better until I take
another dose of the horrible stuff the doctor
persisted in my swallowing. It always affects
me just so—worse, this time, than before.”

He dismissed the housekeeper and lay for
several minutes quietly on the lounge, his eyes
closed, the faint color ens. returning to
his lips and face, while Thomas stood watching
him, attentively, deliberately.

‘You say youalways have these attacks after
taking the medicine Dr. Turquand leaves for
you? What does hesay is the matter with you?”

“He says, an insidious form of gastritis—and
I believe he knows about as much as I do about
it. I have no faith in him. I did not want

him. I would not have had himif Sibyl and
Olga had notinsisted. ‘Gastritis!’ It’s agony,
nearer.”

He was recovering from the paroxysm, and
struggled up from the lounge, although still
bathed in cold perspiration.

“JT will not annoy you with a little item of
news I have for you,” Mr. Thomas said. “I
will see you again, when you are better and
stronger. Iam amazed and distressed at your
condition, Mr. Severn. I had no idea you were
as ill as this.”

He looked keenly, searchingly at the hand-
some, pallid face. .

“T fought the knowledge myself as long as I
could. ButIgiveinnow, Thomas. Something
has got hold of me, and I believe unless relief
comes scon, I shall not be here long. About
that item of news Thomas. Have you learned
anything more about the telegram? Sit down,
and tell me all there is.”

Thomas wheeled an arm-chair toward the
lounge and seated himself, plunging with his
usual straightforwardness into the very pith of
the matter.

“T have had Anderson at work again,” he
said. ‘‘At the telegraph-office I saw on _ the
book that the dispatch to Mr. Knight was from
a little station in Rockland county, towhich
place I dispatched Anderson, who had no diffi-
culty in discovering the sender of the message
—a man named Grant, who lives away up in
the mountains, and from whom, for a hundred
dollar bill, and his oath not to betray him, he
learned that Miss Carizelle had been a prisoner
there for several weeks, and that your nephew
was the perpetrator of the plot. Miss Carizelle
escaped, and hence Knight’s chagrin. Where
she is, remains a mystery yet, but I sball have
your nephew watched and followed, night and
day, so that if he still knows where Miss Cari-
zella is, I will also know before many days.”

Mr. Severn listened, amazed, and speechless
for several seconds.

‘Can it be possible! Thomas, can it be pos-
sible! What motive would Clifford have to
lead him to perpetrate such a conspiracy?”

Thomas shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

“You know my opinion of him, Mr. Severn.
You remember he had met Miss Carizelle when
Mr. Claremont did. She is very beautiful and
lovely, from all accounts, and—Knight is hu-
' man—he may have fallen in love with her bim-

 

+

 

self, ard attempted to keep his wife’s existence
a hidden fact.”

“Tt is monstrous! It is incredible! I knew
Knight was wild, I believed he had been fast,
but I bonestly thought he had long ago sown
his wild oats, and had settled down into a
respectable married man. Your theory is in-
credible, Thomas.”

“Possibly—to you, sir. Nevertheless, I shall
keep an eye on him, as I am doing on his wife
and I believe before I am through with them
shall prove them a pair of monsters. I ask you
not to permit any change in your manner to-
ward your nephew, but to be patient and leave
it all to me.”

Mr. Severn had ariscn from his couch, and
was sitting languidly in his cushioned chair, his
grand gray head leaning against the back of
it, his eyes gloomy and troubled and anxious.

“T cannot seem to come to a realizing sense
of such villainy—”

A rap on the library door interrupted him,
and Thomas opened it.

The housekeeper stood there, accompanied by
an elderly-looking lady, dressed in a soft black
cashmere dress and a thick woolen shaw], and a
small, modest felt bonnet over which a dark
vail was neatly fastened.

“Will I disturb Mr. Severn if I ask to see
hima moment, Mr, Thomas?’ the housekeeper
asked. ‘‘ Please tell him a lady, Mrs. Wood,
has applied for the position he spoke to me
about. She comes well recommended, and
would like to see him about it.”

«Thomas repzated the message, and Mr. Severn
requested that Mrs. Wood be shown in, and as
she entered, he bowed with his customary chiy-
alrous ge

oe This is . Wood, sir,” the housekeeper
said,

She threw back her vail, and no one who had
ever seen Stella Carizelle’s radiant, blonde love-
liness would have recognized her in the dark-
haired, dark-complexioned, somewhat stout, el-
derly appearing lady who bowed in such quiet
self-possession and took a chair Mr. Thomas of-
fered her.

‘* You know what service I require, madam,”
pa Severn said, kindly. ‘“You write a good

and?’

Mr. Thomas handed her a writing-board, on
which paper was po. and gave her a pen.
She copied several lines off a newspaper at
hand, which Mr. Severn asked her to read aloud,
which she did, in her sweet, contralto voice that
was richest music.

“You will suit me,” he said, promptly.
‘There will be no arduous duties—to give me
my medicine, to read to me, copy something oc-
casionally—be at hand all the time, during the
day and evening. Give Mrs. Wood a pleasant
room,” he said to the housekeeper, “‘and ar-
range with her regarding her salary. You will
stay now, madam?’

Stella removed her bonnet and shaw] and
gloves, which the housekeeper took delightedly.

“*T will see that your room is comfortable
and pleasant, Mrs. Wood,” she said, cheerily.
“Tam very glad Mr. Severn -has decided to
accept your services. Shall you show him Mrs.
Redmond’s recommendation?” ?

“Tt will not be necessary,” Mr. Severn said.
“I engage you upon your own merits, Mrs. —
Wood. lam not often mistaken.”

A few minutes afterward Thomas retired,
and Mr. Severn requested Stella to read to him
from the morning paper: She removed to a
convenient distance from him, and read to him,
her low, rich voice clear as bells, sweét as
music, whose tones thrilled him to his
soul, like a strain of long-forgotten melody. He |
lay back upon the lounge, watching her in a
sort of fascination, and becoming every mo-
ment more and more conscious of a pleasant, —
magnetic influence she seemed to exert over
him, and, scarcely aware of it, he gradually -
dropped into a light sleep. :

Several times Stella glanced up at him, be-
tween agraphs, or* different articles, and
when she saw he was sleeping, she gently and
by degrees ceased her ae and looked at
him as he lay there, so gran ly handsome, so
thoroughly the gentleman and the man. Her
face flushed through its delicate brunette color-
ing, and the hot tears came to her as she tried
to realize he was her own father, that she was
his own child, who might some day put her
arms about his neck and feel his kisses on her

ace. :

She had admired him the first time she had
ever seen him: she knew now how easy it
would be to love him, she was conscious of
a struggling waymth of tenderness already in ~
her heart for him, and it seemed as though the
highest privilege she could ask would be to
kneel beside him and ask him if the marvelous
story were true, and, if it was, to give her the
love, the tender, protecting care she so yearned
for, in return for the loving obedience she
would render him. , ‘

But she was forced to dash away the tears,
and hush the emotions of her heart, lest they
betray her, and so long as Mr. Severn slept, —
she sat silent and thoughtful. te

He awoke suddenly. ing !
“Ts it possible I fell asleep? And have &

 

 

 

      
 
   
  

  
  

 

 

- IN MORTAL PERIL.

\

 

 

really slept two hours? If you will prepare m
medicine for me, Mrs. Wood, I will take it.
take it every two hours. On the lower shelf of
the medicine-case yonder you will find it—a
short, thick bottle, with Dr. Turquand’s label
on it. A teaspoonful, please, in the glass you
will see, and fill with water.”

Stella opened the elegant little medicine case
that was hung against the wall like a bracket,
and beneath which stood a little marble table,
on which were two silver trays, one containing
a dainty crystal goblet in a silver stand, the
other a gold-lined measuring spoon.

Sbe carefully poured a teaspoonful of the
medicine, and was about to add the water
necessary to dilute it, when, to her surprise, the
library door unceremoniously opened and Sibyl
Knight entered the room elaborately dressed in

‘a pink cashmere dressing robe, trimmed with
pale-blue ribbons, her chestnut hair banged low
over her heavy eyebrows, her plump hands
shining with costly rings.

She Hg ee short at sight of Stella, a look of
haushty displeasure on her face, while Stella,
who had no idea that Mr. Severn’s house was
Clifford. Knight’s home, trembled with the sud-
den excitement of the moment, and involunta-
rily turned her head.

‘I am promptly on time to give you your
medicine,” Sibyl said, after a second’s stare ati
the quiet, dark-robed figure beside the ice-
water pitcher.

“You need not be troubled in the future,

_ Sibyl,” Mr. Severn said, promptly. ‘‘ This lady,
Mrs. Wood, is my personal attendant, and wil

relieve you and Olga hereafter. Mrs. Wood,
Mrs. Knight.”
Stella bowed slightly, quietly, in return for

Sibyl’s insolent, prolonged stare and sarcastic

_ “Oh, you have hired a nurse,” she said.
“That was hardly necessary, with Olga and I
to devote ourselves to. you. Why did you not
allow me to select a trained nurse for you, if
you needed one, instead of this person?”

She was regarding Stella with insolent ha-
tred.

“‘ Because I consider I am competent to select
for myself. Mrs. Wood is a lady, Sibyl, and I
desire you will treat her as such.”

“Oh, of course. If she conducts herself

roperly she will be treated well. Do you un-
Mead nursing?’ she asked, peremptorily, of
Stella. }

et follow the physician’s directions,
moudam,” Stella answered, quietly, wondering
if the sharp look Mrs. Knight fae her meant
that she recognized her voice. But, with a little
relieved sensation she saw there was no recog-
nition, ;

‘A skilled nurse should be a physician her-
self, Mrs. Wood,” eri returned, coldly. ‘It
is possible you have the ability to attend to m
uncle’s lesser necessities, but the task of ad-
ministering his medicines, which are very pow-
erful, and require the utmost nicety in measur-
ing and diluting, should not be intrusted toa
stranger. Iam accustomed to Dr. Turquand’s
orders, and have been in the habit of giving
Mr. Severn his medicines, and I shall continue
to do so.”

“Tt is entirely unneces
instruct Mrs. Wood, a
from your task.”

Sibyl paused on her imperious sweep toward
the medicine-case, and looked at Mr. Severn, as
though greatly hurt at his words.

“Don’t you wish me to give it to you, uncle,
dear? It has been such a sweet privilege to do
something—anything for you, in return for all
your kindness to me. But—if you would rather
not—if you mean to drive me away—”

She pressed her handkerchief to her eyes and
sobbed softly.

‘Thad no idea you regarded the matter so
sensitively,” he said. ‘If it affords you so
much gratification, of course you may con-
tinue it.”

He spoke gravely, and wearily, as if the sub-
ject bored fain, and leaned tiredly back with
closed eyes, while Sibyl, her sobs ceased, recov-
ered her haughty coldness.

“Bring me the medicine, and pour out the
quantity already in the goblet. And bring me

the srnall pitcher of water.”

Stella obeyed, and while bringing the small
pitcher of water, she just caught a glimpse of a
tiny vial which Sibyl was slipping hastily in
the pocket of her dressing-robe.

“There,” Sibyl said, after she had added a
_ certain hight of water to the medicine-glass;
“take it, uncle, dear, and I do hope it will do
ou good. Sometimes I am tempted to fear
hat Dr. Turquand is not helping you as he
ought—those terrible paroxysms do not de-
crease. as he positively assured me they
would.” :
_. Mr. Severn drained the glass, and Sibyl

haughtily gestured Stella to take it.

“TY will go now, and you must not allow your-
self to talk or become excited. I will in
again in time to give you the next portion.”

She sweptaway, without alook at Stella, who
knew now that she need not have any fear
aac her admirable disguise would be  pene-
-trated. ' :

ry, Sibyl. You can
she will relieve you

 

She bad only been. gone a few minutes when
a groan of anguish from Mr. Severn brought
Stella in alarm to his side, to see him writhing
in pain, his face pallid and wet with cold sweat
his chest heaving laboriously—in a spasm of
agony that was terrible to see.

CHAPTER XLVIII.
ON THE BRINK.

Since his dismissal from Mr. Severn’s house-
hold, Mr. Welsh had not called upon Olga Os-
mond, although he had snecessfully managed to
see her several times, and had written to her
regularly by every day’s mail—notes which she
dared not ot unanswered, intensely as she
loathed paying any attention to them.

Altogether, these past days were full of ter-
rible unrest and anxiety to her. Filled with
mortification and dismay at her signal failure
with Roy Claremont, annoyed beyond measure
by Jerome Welsh’s persistent letters, alarmed
at the ominous appearance upon the scene of
Eliza Conners, disturbed and afraid because of
the uncertainty of Stella Carizelle’s fate, there
was not much from which to draw either com-
fort or courage, and yet she never faltered in
her horrible, desperate determination to save
herself from the man she detested and loathed,
even at the cost of her soul.

In a brief, chilling reply to a letter from
Welsh in which he had inquired after Mr.
Severn’s health in his peculiarly sarcastic way,
Olga had mentioned the condition of alarm and
almost helplessness into which Mr. Severn was
daily further descending, and in a prompt re-
ply he had notified her of his intention to take
advantage of Mr. Severn’s confinement to the
library to pay her a visit on the ensuing eve-

 

ning.

The appointed time had come, and Olga, after
a little call upon Mr. Severn, had gone to the
drawing-room to await Welsh’s coming. She
was restless and nervous, and her dark eyes
ae and glittering unnaturally, She had
dre:sed herself with her most exquisite style—a
pale lemon silk shot with cardinal points, and

reat burning rubies were in her ears and at

er throat. She had given orders that she was
not at home to any one but Mr. Welsh, and had
the drawing-room brilliantly lighted for his
coming—for she had nerved herself to accom-

lish her awful deed before he left Mr. Severn’s

ouse that night, and on a silver tray on an ele-
gant little malachite and ebony stand ina dusky
corner of the great room, were conveniently
placed two champagne glasses, inthe bottom of
one of which—and Olga knew which it was—
was a tiny portion of the colorless, tasteless
liquid which would doits fatal work in an
hour’s time after it had passed its victim’s
lips.

There was something strangely solemn in the
condition of affairs as they stood that dull,
weird wintry night beneath Mr. Severn’s roof
—and if each one had only known the truth
as the others knew it! As yet, Olga and the girl
she hated with such fierce, jealous hatred had
only met face to face once or twice, and Stella’s
disguise had been eee perfect in Olga’s
case as well as in Sibyl’s, and it seemed like the
very sarcasm of fate itself that, all uncon-
scious of the presence of her dearest foe, Olga
Osmond was going on in her iar patient
hee to accomplish that which would never
avail.

At an early hour Mr, Welsh was announced,
and found Olga restlessly walking up and down
the room, her silken skirts rustling with a low,
aristocratic frou-frou, her jewels gleaming, her
face flushed, her eyes full of a brilliancy that
a strangely unnatural, restless and passion-

‘ul,

As Welsh entered the room, she swept for-
ward to meet him, with an eagerness of wel-
come that, combined with her magnificent
toilet, dazzled and delighted him, and he em-
braced her ardently—to which she submitted,
and then accompanied him to his seat.

““You are the handsomest woman in New
York, Olga,” he said, enthusiastically. ‘‘I am
prouder of you than ever. Your toilet is su-
perb—are you expecting honored guests, or—
dare I hope it is for me?

He expected her to scornfully resent his sug-
gestion, and to his astonishment she answered
with pane kindness:

“T gave Jennyngs strict orders to admit no
one this evening. You are my only guest,
Jerome, and [ dressed for your eyes alone.”

He looked keenly at her while she spoke, com-
pletely taken by surprise by this wonderful
amiability. It was the first time since his pro-
fo of marriage a that she had not re-

elled against it by word, manner or look. She
had treated him with an invariable scorn and
contempt except when he was serving her pur-
poses. He had been perfectly aware not -only
of her aversion. to him, but ber passion for
another man, and he had familiarized himself
with the fdea that he would endure it all until,
asher husband; his own triumph attained, he
would revenge himself as he thought best.

But—this new, sudden amiability aroused his
suspicions at once, and he smiled, cynically.

‘“You are contemplating some new deviltry,
Olga, What is it? It is not in keeping with

 

yourself to accord me such a delightful wel-
qa What new treachery are you up to, my
lear

If her face had not been already flushed crim-
son, Welsh would have seen a swift blush spread
over it that meant horror at the possibility of
his reading her thoughts. As it was, she as-
sumed an admirably frank manner.

“Tam not ‘up’ to any treachery, Jerome. I
am aware you are surprised at the change in
my manner, and since you seem not able to
read its meaning, I will translate it for you. I
don’t love you, and you know it, and I never
shall. But, I have become resigned to the in-
evitable, and since I am too proud to appear in
society as an unwilling bride, I have deter-
mined from henceforth to at least affect a hap-
piness I do not feel.”

He looked intently at her, and her ap-
arently honest, plausible explanation disarmed
is rising suspicion.

“T give you credit for better judgment than

I imagined you possessed. As you say, your
marriage to me is as inevitable, as inexorably a
fact as doom itself. I love you, despite your
cat’s elaws, and I would not give you‘'up to
save my life.” 4

He had seated himself beside her upon the
sofa, and easily passed from the subject under
consideration to that which was always of such
morbid interest to Olga—the fate of Stella Cari-
zelle. She related to him the circumstance of
Eliza Conners’s fateful appearance, and re-
ceived his unqualified approval of the way in
which she had treated with her.

“Tt will not be long that you will be an-
noyed with her. After our marriage I will
take her in hand, and if I cannot succeed in per-
suading her to leave the country I will not
scruple to adopt more silencing measures, As
far as the bone of contention herself is con-
cerned, we have every reason to rest assured
she is well out of the way, or else the admirable
means taken to discover her would long ago
have unearthed her.” - ’

“Yes, agree with you. She must be dead,
or we would have heard some news. No news
is good news.” \

" “ And all things are ready for our marriage,
Olga?”

“Yes,” she repeated again, with a deathly
little shiver thrilling icily over her—‘‘ every-
thing is ready.”

And she thought of the little crystal goblet
awaiting the sparkling draught his own hands
should pour a little later.

“You discover no signs of relenting in Mr.
Severn?”

‘None whatever. He is civil to me, but I
am plainly under the ban of his displeasure, al-
though I believe when he learns of the in-
evitable he will listen to reason.”

“People usually do. We will go abroad for
a year, my dear. We will visit Italy and
France, and by the time we return, my ador-
able great-uncle-in-law will have cooled off
mightily. Olga, I am a very proud, happy
man to night.” 5

He took one of her hands in his. It was cold
and moist with nervous excitement, and he re-
marked upon it. She hastily withdrew it,
laughing. (

‘“T have been more or less nervous all day.
I feel feverish, thirsty. Ring for Lawrence,
please, and open me a bottle of champagne,
will you?”

She leaned back in her chair, trembling and
excited. He bowed, gallantly, and instantly
obeyed. \ :

‘““With the greatest pleasure, my dear,” he
said, lightly. ‘I find no champagne anywhere
so much to my taste as Mr. Severn’s.”

He nodded familiarly to the servant, and or-
dered the liquor, that was brought several
mivutes later. :

“You will find a téte-d-téte set in the corner
yonder,” she said, and she wondered that he
did not start in astonishment at the unnatural-
ness of her voice

But, he brought the dainty little crystal
glasses, and filled them, Olga’s burning, fasci-
nated gaze never leaving the accursed cup.

He carried the tray to her, and bowed, gal-
lantly. She reached out ber hand and chose
the one in which no death lurked, while Welsh
lifted the other toward his lips—

Just as there sounded a commotion in the li-
brary in the hall opposite, and Mr. Severn en-
tered the room, accompanied by a slender,
graceful young girl, at whom Olga stared in
slowly freezing horror, as, in tones she never
had heard before, Mr. Severn said:

“Olga—allow me to present to you—Stella
Carizelle!”

And with a shriek of horror, Olga shrunk
back, falling in Jerome Welsh’s arms, as though
suddenly smitten by the avenging angel.

 

CHAPTER XLIX.
AT THE END OF THE TETHER, .
AT sight of the little vial that Stella detected.
ea Knight returning to her pocket, a sudden,
horrible suspicion flashed instantly over her,
which was so monstrous, so appalling that she

  

rejected it almost as soon as it presented itself

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__IN MORTAL PERIL.

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to her; and ye, she could not understand why
the vial had been used surreptitiously. :

But, when the alarming attack of agony
seized Mr. Severn, and she had attended to his
immediate wants, bathing his face with dilute
ammonia, and chafing his cold, clammy hands,
and he had emerged from the paroxysm weak
and trembling, and lay prostrate on the lounge,
then Stella allowed herself to think about it.

‘Does your medicine always affecf you so,
Mr. Severn?’

“« Always.
not know how horribly it burns me: Of course,
there is great internal disturbance, and the
remedy seems to irritate me.”

‘J think I will further dilute the next few
doses, and try the effect. Do not become dis-
couraged, Mr. Severn, for I am sure you will
be better soon. Sometimes an unusually se-
vere attack is the turning point of the trouble
—TI cannot help thinking so in your case, At
any rate we will hope so.”

ie cheerful, courageous words were not
without their effect upon him, and he expressed
his warm gratitude for her prophecy. ies

A little later the housekeeper sent a dainty
lunch to the library, after which Stella was
summoned to hers, in the housekeeper’s room,
while Mrs. Osmond sat with Mr. Severn.

Later still, promptly on time, Sibyl Knight
returned to administer Mr. Severn’s medicine,
and again Stella caught a swift gleam of the
little crystal vial.. A second later, Mrs. Knight
handed the goblet to her to add the customary
small portion of water, after she had herself
ostentatiously dropped a spoonful of the medi-
cine.

Stella quietly took it, and returned to the
medicine case, to which she had previously re-
moved the little ice-pitcher, and quickly push-
ing the goblet Sibyl had prepared into a little
recess, drew forth a second one which she had
obtained from the housekeeper, and into which
she had previously poured a spoonful of medi-
cine. Into this she slowly poured the necessary
quantity of water, and gave it to Mr. Severn
who obediently drank it.

Sibyl lingered several minutes and then of-
fered to read to him before she went out for her
drive, but was refused the offer, and with-
drew, leaving Mr. Severn to rest a while, while
Stella, nestled among the shadows of the corner
where a wide easy-chair stood, enjoyed a short
physical rest that was refreshing and desir-
able. ;

An hour or so later, Mr. Severn awoke from
a gentle sleep, with a look of cheerful refresh-
ing on his face that was more like himself than
had been seen for some time.

“Ts it possible I have been asleep, Mrs. Wood?

Why—positively, I did not have one of those’

awful
cine!”

He was walking about the room, slowly, but
with a more eager, contented face than usual.

“T diluted your medicine, Mr. Severn,” Stella
said, quietly, as she lighted the gas. ‘I told
youl believed you had reached the turning
point, and, sir, will you please promise nie this
one thing—you will receive your medicine from
no hand but mine?”

Her earnest words and manner made him
pause, involuntarily.

“You think you have reached the proper
stage of dilution? Certainly, Mrs. Wood, I
will take my doses from no hand but yours.
And now, if you are not too tired, will you
read to me a while?”

In such duties the remainder of the day was
assed, and until ten o’clock in the evening.
here been no callers, and although the la-

dies of the house had zone out, Sibyl did not
fail to be promptly on hand both before and af-
ter her absence, to ostentatiously prepare Mr.
Severn’s medicine; and although Stella did not
again see the mysterious little vial, she was
none the less morally sure it had been em-
ployed. :

At ten o’clock that evening, Mr. Severn re-
tired to his room up-stairs, attended by a male
servant, and Stella went to the pleasant large
room assigned her, on the third floor, front,
where a brilliant light and a
made a delicious sense of restfulness and home-
ness.

She carefully secured her doors, after Gideing
the good-natured housekeeper good-night, an
removed her plain dark wig, beneath which her
magnificent suit of golden hair was closely, com-
nactly braided around her head, and, undoing
he rippling tresses, she sat herself down ina
little shalt before the fire, to think over the
strange complications in which she was involved.

She had seen very little of Olga Osmond, but
her bright intuitions had taught her there was
enmity between Mr. Severn and the beautiful
woman Roy Claremont was to marry. It was
amazing and incomprehensible to her, that,
with the marriage so near athand as Clifford
Knight had affirmed it to be, there were no vis-
ible preparations for it, or that there existed a
grave coldness between Mrs. Osmond’s uncle,
who, Mr. Knight had said, had been so anxious
- for the marriage, and the bride-elect.

All through that day, Stella had been fearing
‘and hoping that Claremont would call upon Mr,

urning agonies after taking my medi-

I think sometimes, Turquand can- |

lowing grate fire’

 

Severn. It had seemed to her that to hear his
voice once more, to be in his presence, would
be an exquisite pleasure for which she would be
almost willing to suffer the inevitable pain that
must ee the indulgence. But he had
not come. Of Sibyl Knight, Stella’s most hor-
rible suspicions were roused and confirmed. She
shrunk from the thought of her with absolute
horror, for she knew she was deliberately de-
stroying Mr. Severn’s life—urged by what mo-
tive, she could not imagine,

Her coming, however, had been Mr. Severn’s
salvation; but, Stella asked herself, what would
Sibyl Knight do when she discovered that she
was baffled, arid learned who it was who had
been on her track?

Her reveries kept her awake until midnight,
after which she retired and slept soundly, and
was bright and fresh and watchful for her du-
ties when she entered upon them at eight o’clock
the next morning.

She found Mr. Severn looking better than on
the previous day, and when she congratulated
him upon that pleasant fact, he told her he felt
better, less weak, more improved every way
than be had been in some days.

“Your magical care even in so short a time
has worked wonders, Mrs. Wood,” he said, as
Stella daintily arranged his tempting breakfast
of broiled birds, soft-boiled eggs, cream toast
and coffee on alittle table beside his easy-chair.
‘‘Thave a conviction that I shall get well, and,
my, life will be due to you.”

he looked up se surprised at his words.

“To me, sir? I have only done but very lit-
tle for you—it is only a little I can do.”

“You have done the greatest things of all.
You have read to me, and quieted my quiver-
ing nerves. You have encouraged and cheered
me. You have given me my medicine. You
have indeed done all you cduld do, and not a
little either.”

He was thoughtfully stirring the sugar in his
coffee, and Stella glanced at him, imagining she
detected a peculiar significance in his voice.
But, his face did not indicate such cunscious-
ness, and with a little feeling of relief, Stella
opened the morning paper and read aloud to
him as he slowly, and with somewhat of a relish,
partook sparingly of his breakfast, listening fas-
cinated and charmed by her low, sweet voice
that never failed to arouse half-painful, half-
pleasurable, wholly vague sensations.

But, in seeing the impassive look on his
face, Stella deceived herself in supposing she
had been mistaken. There had been a signi-
ficance in his tones when he spoke the words
that had meant so very much more to him than
their outward meaning conveyed—for, when
Stella had requested him so earnestly, the
evening before, to take his medicine from no
hand but hers, he had been surprised and
startled, and strange, vague suspicions had risen
within him which had been promptly met and
promptly solved during the early wakeful hours
of the night.

Keen and far-sighted, Mr. Severn had come
to his own conclusion since he had said good-
night to Stella, yet he had no intention of
making known what he believed to’ be his ter-
rible discovery until the proper time should
come.

An hour or so after his nine o’clock breakfast
a note was brought him, from Mr. Thomas, in
which the lawyer stated that he had most im-
pent business to communicate, and that he

ad called the day before, but was denied audi-
ence by Mrs. Knight’s orders, and he especially
desired Mr, Severn to arrange to see him.

A look of astonishment and anger was in Mr.
Severn’s eyes as he reac the note, and dictated
the answer to Stella. :

“And ring for Jennyngs, please, Mrs. Wood,
when you have dispatched the note. Mrs.
Knight is rather premature in assuming com-
mand in this house.”

He was frowning darkly when Jennyngs en-
tered the library, to whom he issued ‘an order
that admitted of no possible misconstruction,
that the cards of all callers upon him, whether
social or business, should be immediately sub-
mitted to him.

“Tt is remarkably strange that Sibyl should
have denied me to Thomas, when I am well en-
ough to see any one who comes. |] wonder if so-
ciety in general is under the impression that I
am too low to be seen?” :

As usual Sibyl had regularly mixed the medi-

cine, and, as usual, was most. markedly ostenta-

tious in doing so, while, quite as regularly, her
draught was substituted by the one Stella
mixed, and, to Stella’s keen satisfaction, Mr.
Severn continued t6 recover, walking about the
library and ante-room at intervals, and being
greatly more cheerful, as both he and Stella
were not slow to notice, to Sibyl’s astonish-

ment.

“You look better,” she said to him, as punc-
tually at two o’clock, she stood beside him, gob-
let in hand. ‘Actually, uncle dear, you are
getting better. How rejoiced we will all be!” _

She smiled treacherously upon him, an anx-
ious, evil gleam in her blue-gray eyes as she
watched him drain the draught of harmless
tonic Stella had substituted.

‘*T shall soon be around again, never fear. [

 

am eyes better,” he said, briefly, as he
handed Stella the empty glass, just as Clifford.
Knight and Mr. Rivers were ushered in. .

Mr. Severn received them with grave cour-
tesy, and listened to their profuse expressions
of sympathy.

“Tt is really most eee ae know you are
so much of an invalid,” Mr. Rivers said, sym-
pathetically; ‘‘ but in common with all your
friends, I most sincerely hope you will soon be
out again.” ;

“ And I hope so too,” eehoed Knight, smooth-
ly, sinking lazily into an easy-chair. ‘‘ Yet you
are far from looking in your usual state of
health.” ;

“T am decidedly better,” Mr. Severn said,
coldly. ‘I intend to be out and around again
in a few days, and personally resume con-
trol of my household, where I am still master,
despite my illness, and which I propose to be, so
long as I live.” :

Something ominous in his tones almost startled
Stella, who had withdrawn to the ante-room
and that same something made Rivers and
Knight exchange quick meaning glances.

“Why, certainly,” Knight said. ‘‘You are
of course sole master in your own house, my
dear uncle—” :

‘And I intend to remain so,” interrupted Mr.
Severn, meaningly.

Sibyl stepped forward from the curtained
window from which she had been eagerly
watching for the paroxysm that failed to follow
the administration of the medicine, a strange,
vaguely terrified look in her eyes.

“ Clifford means—” .

Her smooth extenuation was suddenly inter-
rupted by the entrance of Mr. Thomas, with the
air of one who is not only expected, but who
pa, ease and ee. news,

second glance of apprehensive inquiry
flashed trom the three ale pair tt aie
hee did it mean? Certainly no good to either
of them. f

 

CHAPTER L.
THE PERFECT DAY. 5

As Mr. Thomas entered the room Si
shrunk back for a second, cowed by the look
his eyes as they met hers—a swift, contemptu-
ous glance, whose keen detestation he did not at-
tempt to conceal, as he bowed coldly _to her,
and then to Mr. Rivers and Clifford Knight,
both of whom were conscious of a decidedly un-
pleasant sensation. :

“Tam glad to see you, Thomas,” Mr. Severn
said, warmly. ‘‘ Be seated.” 2

_ ‘Lam glad to see you so improved in health,
sir. I called yesterday and the day before but
was denied admittance by Mrs. Knight’s orders.
She sent me word you were not able to be seem
—but, Mr. Severn, you are better. I see im-
provement on every feature of your face.”

Anexpression of strong relief and satisfac-
tion was on Thomas’s face as he looked keen]
at Mr. Severn. aos

“JT am better, much better, despite Mrs.
Knight's officiousness—and very kind inten-
tions. :

_ He spoke with a chilling sternness that de-
lighted the lawyer and alarmed Sibyl.

‘“‘T have come with most important news, Mr.
Severn, which, with your permission, I will
mention in the presence of your household and.
your guest.”

He bowed slightly, toward Mr. Rivers,
whom Knight introduced hastily at that junc-

ure.

**You will remember, Mr. Severn,” Thomas
said, impressively, ‘‘that I assured you I should
follow up the mystery of the telegram received _
in this room by your nephew, Mr. kai
he bowed with almost mocking courtesy to
Knight, who suddenly recoiled, as though a re~
volver had been presented at his head.

“T did so, and have learned, by keeping An-
derson continually on the gentleman’s tr }
that the young lady in whose discovery we
were all so interested is alive and well, and that
Mr. Knight had an interview with her at the
hotel where she was employed as a t
governess by a lady boarder.” é -

Sibyl uttered a low, indignant cry as she
oe too utterly dumfounded to utter a
word, :

“Then Miss Carizelle is found! Thomas, isit —
possible! And alive and well!” ;

“Found, and alive and well, notwithstanding —
the damnable attempts of your nephew to com-
mit a crime that hanging is too good for. Iam.
Nee oa to prove every word that I say. r

adip personal interview with the lady who be-
frieyded Miss Carizelle in her greatest ex-
tremiity, and to whom Miss Carizelle told her
marvelous story.”

eyes flashing like fires, his grand face working
with passionate indignation as he glared first —
at Knight, who sat as if transfixed, then at —
Sibyl, who had struggled to her feet, almost
gasping for breath. a sell
‘or a moment he said nothing, but stood in
awful, majestic, terrible silence that was ap-_
palling to endure. pest ices

  

 

 

looked at her husband, who stared, aghast,at

   

Mr. Severn “arose from his chair, his blue

  
 
  
  

S 4

IN MORTAL PERIL.

 

 

 

 
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
    
  
  
    
  
    
  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
  
   
 
   
  
  
   
 
 
    
  
  
   
  
 
 
    
    
   
 
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
    
    
  
  
   
   
   
 
   
  

* A precious pair you are,” he said at last, in
low, scornful tones. ‘‘ You”—and he bent his
lightning glance upon Knight, who was pale as
marble—‘‘you, a villain, double-dyed in the
wool, treacherous to your best friends, too vile,
too degraded to breathe the same air with an
honest man. And you”—and he turned upon
Sibyl with an impetuosity that made her shrink
down in her chair, paralyzed with swift fear—
“you, a would-be murderess! You think I do
not know how you have tried to poison me, you
viper? And but for the keen-sighted; honest-
handed, true-hearted lady who came, by God’s
own direction, I verily believe, to nurse me, I
would be lying dead before younow. But—
you wouldn’t have inherited my riches. You
would have been disappointed when you dis-
covered you had hurried me out of the way for
nothing—for, although you learned, by eaves-
pwd | at yonder door, you serpent, that I
intended to make your husband my heir, you
weuld have also learned I had changed my
mind, and named Miss Carizelle, who will be
Claremont’s wife and my adopted child, for my
sole heiress. And now—out of my house, you
serpents; you vile, treacherous creatures, and
be thankful I am merciful enough not to punish

you to the full extent of the law!”

Sibyl sunk to her knees with a low, heartsick
cry, while Mr. Rivers covered his face with his
trembling hand as he realized the hopeless, awful
ruin into which the guilty trio had fallen.

A deathlike silence followed, that Mr. Thomas
broke after asecond.

“Mr. Severn,” he said, quietly, ‘ will

- $0 good as to
a people for a, short time? I have taken the lib-
_ erty of requesting Mr. Claremont to meet me
here at seven o’clock, and as it is nearly that
hour, I—”
Footsteps in the hall interrupted him, and in
a second Mr. Claremont entered the library,
_ glancing around him with bewildered surprise
at the tableau presented.

With wildly-fluttering heart and deathly-
white tace, Stella Carizelle, herself unseen,

_ heard al, as she stood at the furthest corner of
the bay-window in the ante-room.

As Claremont entered, and she heard his be-
loved voice, for the first time in so many weary
moni it seemed to her her very heart would

_ burst; but she clasped her little hands in silent
self-control and waited, with wildly-beating
pulses, for whatever was to come, ,

oie) Mr. Severn gr ed Claremont’s hand heartily.

» ‘§T see by your face you are aware that Stella

ds alive and well, my boy?” he said, warmly.

‘Thomas has told me the marvelous story,

‘ou be

postpone the ejectment of these

and I have just ordered these vipers from my
house.”

For several days Claremont had not seen Mr.
Severn, not nen called at the house since his
interview with Olga, and not desirous of sub-
jecting her to the mortification of meeting him
too soon, consequently he had not informed Mr.

_ Severn that, two days before, he had seen Stella
on the street.

But there was a look of eager hopefulness on
his handsome face very different from /the

_ despairing gravity that had been its expression

: ware

__ *T know she is alive and well, or was, two
days ago, sir, for I saw her. And I believe we
willfind her before many hours, by means of
the lady who wrote the note instructing Thomas
_ tocall here this afternoon. I wish to see Mrs.
Wood, if you please.”

There was a suppressed excitement in Clare-
mont’s manner that was contagious, and the
slow, quiet smile on Thomas’s face did not tend

to lessen it, as Mr. Severn called her, and
_ Stella, with a wild prayer on her lips, trem-

bling and frightened, entered the library from

the anteroom—a little, middle-aged lady, at
_ whom Mr. Severn looked SHOP ANELY

‘Please come along, Mrs. Wood. Allow me

sa Pa gia my nephew, Mr. Claremont,

 and—

: A sudden rapturous exclamation from Clare-

mont interrupted the cordial presentation. He

stared a minute, then rushed forward, clasping

Stella in his arms.

_ My little darling! My little lost love, I—”

But she drew back, grave, almost haughty,
and stood proudly aloof.

“You forget yourself, Mr. Claremont!” she
said, with a ery of anguish, as she retreated
again. ‘You have pierced my disguise—it is
‘indeed I—but you have no right to address me
$0; you are the betrothed lover of your cousin,
_ y Mrs. Osmond.”

“Tt is not true,” he cried out Serpentis,
“TJ have never been any woman’s lover but

se

_ yours. I will never love any one but you,
gi Beta! Oh, darling, come tome! Won’t you?
_. Come!”

  

His face was full of mgnty passionate ap-
- peal and truth and honor. She looked at him
-_asecond, hesitated and trembled.

_ “ Wait—one moment,” she said, agitatedly,
and ped back into the anteroom, tore off
her wig, hastily washed the dye off her face
- and hands, and stepped forth in all her radiant |
- blonde loveliness, fair as a lily, with her golden |
hair flowing down her back, her blue eyes full |

mn, passionate feeling, and as Claremont

  

 

of sole

  
 
 

uttered a little tender ‘‘ Come” and opened his
arms, she sped forward with a strange low cry
and was clasped to his breast in a passionate
caress. :

It was asight not seen twice in a lifetime. Mr.
Severn stared, speechless and dumfounded at
her magnificent beauty. Sibyl Knight stood
in the background, as if paralyzed between
fear and fury, Jooking like a very demoness as
she glowered ou the fair girl in Claremont’s
arms.

Thomas looked on in grim, satisfied approval,
content with his grand success, and tne over-
throw of Mr. Severn’s enemies.

Mr. Rivers stared aghast, while Knight ut-
tered a curse that made every ear tingle that
heard it.

Claremont turned toward him, noticing him
for the first time since he entered the room—his
face stern, merciless.

“From this moment we will never meet
again. I will leave my share of your punish-
ment to your own conscience, Your diabolical
baseness and treachery will bring you yourown
es while they have not gained you any-
thing.

Knight lifted himself to his feet, with a visi-
ble effort, a ghastly smile on his livid face.

‘*T should say the game is played out,” he
said, doggedly. ‘I’ve lost on every hand.
First the woman I love; second the fortune I
craved; last, my reputation. Life here does
not contain any further attractions for me, and
I shall not trouble any of you with nty presence
after this. But, before I go, I wish to inform
you that when TI married this she-devil here I
thought she was what she represented herself to
be—the heiress of Vincent Place. But she is not.
She is a beggar, and between herself and he,

recious uncle there they entrapped me. To-da,,

received a telegram that the true heir will by
on hand to take possession in a week—and,
wish you joy,” he said, sardonically, to Sibyl:
then, turning to Stella, whose slight figure was
nestled within her lover’s arms, with a look of
rage and passion and baffled disappointment on
his face—‘‘ You are the only woman I ever
loved, from first to last.”

Without a word he left the house, and was
never heard of by one of them again, while Mr.
Rivers and Sibyl were given. just ten minutes
to leave, during which time Sibyl collected her
jewels and money, left her orders for the dispo-
sition of her wardrobe, and then went away to
lead a life of horror—loathing to live, yet
afraid to die—unable to get away from herself,
a life than which God reserves no more awful,
just judgment for a soul who has crossed the
dead line. :

 

CHAPTER LI,
THE LOST LINK RESTORED,

AFTER the departure Mr. Severn and Clare-
mont, Mr. Thomasand Stella spent an hour alone
in the library, during which time Stella related
her story with all its thrilling details, while
Mr. Severn seemed fascinated by every word
she spoke, and Mr, Thomas listened with his
eyes fixed thoughtfully on her pure, fair face.

‘¢ There is something beneath all this we have
not yet fathomed,” he said. ‘‘It was Mrs. Os-
mond who engaged you to go to Bonamy, Miss
Carizelle? She was very anxious and eager to
have you go? There must have been a motive
beyond those we know. Mr, Severn, I would
like to have Mrs. Osmond summoned ”

A message was at once sent, but the servant
returned with the word that Mrs. Osmond was
engaged with a caller, and declined to be dis-
turbed.

Mr. Severn’s eyes flashed at the answer.

‘Since Mrs. Osmond ard not come to us, we
will go to her. My dear,” he said, tenderly, to
Stella, ‘if you will give me your arm to the
drawing-room, we willintrude upon Olga and
her exclusive guest. Claremont, stay behind
with Thomas, You may trust your treasure to
me, I think.”

His pale, 1 face was expressive of bewil-
derment as he went slowly across the halls to
the drawing-room, the first time he had been in
that part the house for days. He was ut-
terly at a loss to understand why it had been
that Olga had been so intensely eager to secure
Stella’s services, and why Jerome Welsh had
interested himself in Stella’s getting off; and he
was resolved to cut the knot of difficulties by
going direct to Olga herself.

Stella’s heart was beating fast as they neared
the room where Olga was engaged. Shehadnot

et determined upon the method of ascertain-
ing positively, whether or not she was Mr. Sev-
ern’s child, nor did she venture to speculate
upon the manner in which the knowledge, if
correct, would be made known.

It was little wonder then, that between her
excitement, her new, rapturous happiness, at be-
ing restored to her lover, Stella was agitated as
she went into the drawing-room, where, with-
out preliminary words, Mr. Severn had ab-
ruptly presented her to Mrs. Osmond.

Aud the reception of that presentation has
been seen.

Fora seeond a deathly silence reigned. Welsh
nervously replaced both champagne glasses on
the tray, while Olga, in despair and horror, lost

 

all her self-possession, and stared piteously at
Stella’s sweet, grave face.

‘‘Why are you so appalled at the sight of
this young girl?’ Mr. Severn asked, pointedly.

Olga essayed to speak, but her tongue seemed
suddenly stricken with dumbness, and Mr. Sev-
ern’s pers blue eyes seemed to penetrate to
her very soul.

Welsh did not speak a word, and Mr. Severn

did not notice him more than if he bad been a ©

og.

“T ask you, again, Olga, why are you not
glad that we have found Miss Carizelle? Why
are youso dismayed at sight of her?’

“TY will answer, sir. It is a guilty conscience
—that is what is the matter with Mrs. Sargent
—I mean Mrs, Osmond.”

A long, quivering sigh burst from Olga’s pal-
lid lips—a sigh of utter hopelessness, for, Eliza
Conners had slipped in the room, after a visit
to the housekeeper’s quarters, and had an-
swered Mr. Severn’s question.

He turned abruptly around upon her.

‘““Who are you, madam? What do you
mean?”

“T am Eliza Conners, at your service, sir.
and I can supply a link in the chain you would
not otherwise obtain. I am the woman of
whom Mrs. Sar—Osmond, yonder, under the
name of Sargent, bought my child, seventeen
years ago—when she was. but a child, you
might say, herself—a bride, with a husband
twice as old as herself, out in California, then.”

Mr. Severn started aghast. Stella loosened
her gentle hold of his arm and stepped toward
the door, beckoning Mr, Claremont and Thomas
toward them.

And then, in the midst of the awed, silent
group, Eliza Conners told her story, with an
honest conviction, a straightforwardness that

seemed scarcely to require the proof she brought _

to bear, the telegrams from the managers of
the foundling asylum.

Mr. Severn stood, white as a statue, his breath
coming in gasps.

“The little dead child in your lot at Green-
wood is mine--this fair young girl is yours—

our own, your daughter, your true heiress. I

eave my story with you, with its proofs, and
my reward to your own generosity,” she con-
cluded, and before any one could speak Stella
gently keld out to him thé little dim, faded pic-
ture she had cherished all those years,

“They told Mrs. Leigh it was concealed in
my clothes; do you know it, sir? Is it’ my
mother?”

Mr. Severn clutched it eagerly, and a great
stormy sob broke from his lips. :

“It is my dead wife! Oh, child, child—my
daughter—my little lost Viva!”

He stepped toward her, impetuously, and
took her in his arms—a look of joy unspeakable
on his face, while Claremont lifted one ot her
hands and caressed it lovingly, his rapturous
happiness and surprise gleaming in his hand-
some face.

Olga Osmond had sunk down in a chair,
still supported by Welsh’s encircling arm, her
eyes glaring about, haggard and awful to see,
until, suddenly, Mrs. Conners rushed forward.

“She’s fainting! Give me that stuff there—
quick—!”

Welsh sprung to the little table and seized the
nearest glass—the one containing the deadly
poison, and put it to her lips. Mechanically she
drained it to the dregs, and, with a sudden,
blood-curdling scream as she tasted_the last
drops, she fell forward, prostrate in Mrs. Con-
ners’s arms, and only survived a short time—the
victim of her own horrible wickedness!

Welsh slunk away, and after the grand fune-
ral, and Olga Osmond’s committal to the grave
in Greenwood, he vanished from the lives which
henceforth were to be more full of beauty and
happiness than most lives are.

rs. Conners was nobly rewarded, for Thomas
thoroughly investigated and proved all her
statements.

Stella—or ‘‘ Viva,” as they learned to call the
fair young girl who crowned Mr. Severn’s and
Mr. Claremont’s lives with such happiness, was
formally presented to an admiring world as
Mr. Severn’s Ganges) and although there was
the usual nine days’ wonder, the tenth day
Lie aga some new surprise which drove it from
mind, ‘ x

A few months later, Stella or ‘‘ Viva’ and
Claremont were married, and chief among the
honored wedding guests was Mrs. Redmond, al-
ways first and foremost of all women in Mrs.
Claremont’s affection. ,

We leave them, then, on the eve of their new,
beautiful life—young, happy, rich and allin all
to.each other. ; es

What other good could the gods give to her
who had been, once upon a time, in such mor-
tal peril? 4

THE END. Lien
THE FIRESIDE LIBRARY,
113 Tae Dap Secret. By Wilkie Collins.

114 CLoups np \SunsHINE. By Charles Reade. i

A new issue every week,

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BEADLE’S

 

DIME

 

 

32 Large Three-Column Pages.

1.A Hard Crowd; on, GENTLEMAN
Sam’s Sister. By Philip S. Warne.

2. The Dare-Devil; or, THz WINGED
Wircn oF THE Sx. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

3. Kit Carson, Jr., THe Crack SHOT oF
THE WEST. By puckakin Sam.

4. The Kidnapper; or, THe Great
SHANGHAI OF THE NorTHWesT. By Philip S. Warne.

5. The Fire-Fiends; or, HeRcULES, THE
Honcusack. By A. P. Morris. -

6. Wildcat Bob, THz Boss BRUvISER ;
OR, THE BorpER BLoopHouNDS. By Ed. L. Wheeler.

. Death-Notch, THE DESTROYER; OR,
Tax Sprrir Lake AveNGERS. By Oll Coomes.

8. The Headless Horseman. A strange
story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.

10. Vidocq, THz Frencu Pouice Spy.
Written by himself.

11. Midshipman Easy. By Capt. Mar-

ryat.

12, The Death-Shot; or, TRACKED TO
Deatu. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

13. Pathaway; or, Nick WHIFFLES, THE
Op TRAPPER OF THE NorTHWEST. By Robinson.

14. Thayendanegea, THE Scourcr;
or, THE War-KAGLE oF THE MonAwss. Ned Buntline.

15. The Tiger-Slayer; or, Eaaiz-
Heap To THE Rescur. By Gustave Aimard.

16. The White Wizard; or, Tur Great
PROPHET OF THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline.

17. Nightshade, Tue Rosser PRINCE
or Hounstow Heats, By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

18. The Sea Bandit; or, THE QuEEN
or THE Istz. By Ned Buntline.

19. Red Cedar, Tue Prarrim OvuTLAw.
By Gustave Aimard. :

20. The Bandit at Bay. By Aimard.

21. The Trapper’s Daughter; on,
Tue Ovrtaw’s Fate. By Gustave Aimard, .

22. Whitelaw; on, Natrim oF THE LAKE
Snore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

23. The Red Warrior. By Ned Buntine.

24, Prairie Flower. By G. Aimard.

25. The Gold-Guide; or, Stern Arm,
Tae RecutaTor. By Francis Johnson.

26. The Death-Track; or, THE OvT-
LAws oF THE MounTaAIN. By Francis Johnson,

27. The Spotter-Detective. By Aiken.

28. Three-Fingered Jack, Tue Roap-
Aaent or THE Rockies. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

29. Tiger Dick, Toe Faro Kine; or,
Tse Casnrer’s Crmme. By Philip S. Warne.

30. Gospel George; or, Fiery FRep,
Tar Ovtiaw. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

31. The New York ‘S ? on, THE
Fuassu or Licutninc. By Albert W. Aiken.

32. B’hoys of Yale; on, THE Scrapxs
oF A Harp Set or Cotuscians. By John D. Vose.
83. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken.

34. Mountain Rob. By Aiken.

35. Kentuck, the Sport. By Aiken.

36. I Dick. By Albert W. Aiken.

34. Hirl, the Hunchback; or, Tam
SworDMAKER oF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

38. Velvet Hand; or, THE [Ron GRIP OF
‘Insun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. ;

39. The Russian Spy. By Whittaker.

40. The Long Haired ‘Pards;’ OR,
‘THe TARTARS OF THE Ins. By Jos. E. Badger Jr.

41. Gold Dan; oz, THe WuitE SAVAGE
or THE Great Saur Lake. By Albert W. Aiken.

42. California Detective. By Aiken.

43. Dakota Dan, THE Reckimss RANGER;
or, Tam Bee-Hunters’ Excursion. By Oll Coomes.

44. Old Dan Rackback, Tur Great
EEXTARMINATOR. _ By Oll Coomes,

45. Old Bull’s Eye, Tue Licurnine
Sot oF THE Prams. By Joseph E. a i JR.

46. Bowie-Knife Ben. By Oll Coomes.

47. Pacific Pete, Taz Privcz or THE
Revouver. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
48. Idaho Tom, Tur Youne OuTLaw
oF SmLvERLAND. By Oll Coomes.

49. The Wolf Demon; or, THE QUEEN oF
vHe KaxawnHa. By Albert W. Aiken.

50. Jack Rabbit, Tox Pramm Sport;
By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

51. Red Rob, Tr Boy Roap-Acenr.
0} Y Fy
y 52. Doath Trailer, THe Cumr or

Scours. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.)
53. Silver’ Sam; or, Tue MYSTERY OF
Deadwoon Crry, By Col. Delle Sara.

 

LIBRARY.

 

 

 

 

54, Always on Hand; or, THE Sportive
Sport or tHe Foot Hits, By Philip S. Warne.
55. The Scalp Hunters. Mayne Reid.
56. The Indian Mazeppa. By Aiken.
57. The Silent Hunter ; or, THE ScowL
Haut Mystery. By Percy B. St. John.
58. Silver ife; or, WICKLIFFE, THE
Rocky Mountain Rancer. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
59. The Man From Texas. By Aiken.
60. Wide Awake; or, THe Ip1oT oF
THE BLuack Hits. By Frank Dumont.
61. Captain Seawaif, THe PRIVATEER.
By Ned Buntline.
: 62. Loyal Heart; or, Toe TRAPPERS OF
ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard.
By Aiken.

63. The Winged Whale.
ight, the Death Shot.
r.

64. Double-
By Joseph E. Badger,
65. The Red jah. By F. Whittaker.
66. The Specter Barque. Mayne Reid.
67. The Boy Jockey. By J. E. Badger.
68. The Fighting Trapper; or, Kir
Carson TO THE Rescur. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.
69. The Irish Captain. By Whittaker.
70. Hydrabad, THE STRANGLER; or,
ALETHE, THE CHILD OF THE CorD. By Robinson.
71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, Taz Man
SHARK OF THE MississrppPr. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
72. The Phantom Hand, By Aiken.
73. The Knight of the Red Cross;
or, Toe Macricr1an ofr Granapd. Dr. J. H. Robinson.
74. Captain of the Rifles. Mayne Reid.
75. Gentleman George, or, PARLOR,
Prison, Stack AND Srreet. By Albert W. Aiken.
76. The Queen’s usketeer $ or,
TuissE, THE Princess PaLmist. By George Albony,
79. The Fresh of Frisco. By Aiken.
78. The Mysterious Spy; or, GoLpEN
FEATHER, THE BUCCANEER’S DAUGHTER. By Grainger.
79. Joe Phenix, Potick Spy. By Aiken.
80. A Man of Nerve. By P.S. Warne.
81. The Human Tiger. By Aiken.
82. Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster.
By Col. Thomas H. Monstery.
83. Gold Bullet Sport; or, THz Knicuts
OF THE OVERLAND. fee Bill.
84. Hunted own; Or,
Wrreu. By Albert W. Aiken.
85. The Cretan Rover; or, ZULEIKAH,
vax BEAUTIFUL. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
86. The Big Hunter; or, Tar QUEEN
or THe Woops. By the author of “ Silent Hunter.”
87. The Scarlet Me or, THE
PRISONER OF THE TOWER. By Col. Delle Sara.
88. Bi George, Tue GIANT OF THE
GuLcH; or, Toe Five Ovrnaw Brotuers. By Badger.
89. The Pirate Prince. By Ingraham.
90. Wild Will, Taz Map RancHERoO;
or, THe TERRIBLE TEXAN. By Buckskin Sam.
91. The Winning Oar. By Aiken.
92. Buffalo Bill, Taz Buckskin KiNG;
By Major Dangerfield Burr. :
93. Captain Dick Talbot, Kine or
rHE Roap. By Albert W. Aiken.
94. Freelance, THz BuccANEER; or, The
Warr or THE Wave. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
95. Azhort, THe Axman. By A. P. Morris.
96. Double-Death; or, Tux Spy QUEEN
or Wyomine. By Car. Frederick Whittaker.
97. Bronze ack, THE CALIFORNIA
THOROUGHBRED. By A. W. Aiken.
98. The Rock Rider; or, Tue Sririr
or THE SmrRRA, By Capt. Frederick Whittaker,
99. The Giant Rifleman; or, Wirp
Lire IN THE LuMBER Recions. By Oll Coomes.
100. The French Spy; or, THE Brive
or Paris. A Story of the Commune. By A. P. Morris.
101. The Man from New York; or,
Tre ROMANCE OF A Rich Youna Woman. By Aiken,
102. The Masked Band; or, THz Man
Wirnovur A NAME. the te L, Aiken,
103. Merle, Mutineer. Ingraham.
gaem ae a Merciless ; or,
£ EAGLE AND THE SERPENT. By Col. P. Ingraham.
105. Dan Brown of Denver, THE
Rocky Mountan Detective. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
106. Shamus O’Brien, Tux BouLp Boy
or Guinea. By Colonel Delle Sara.
107. Richard Talbot of Cinnabar;
or, THE Brom OF THE Rep Hanp. By A.W. Aiken.
108. The Duke of Diamonds; or, THE
Friower or Catcurra. By Capt, Fred. Whittaker.

THE WHITE

 

Each Number Complete. Price 10 cts.
109. Captain Kyd, Tue Kine or THE
Buack Fuac. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.
110. The Silent Rifleman. By Herbert.
111. The Sruggier Captain; or, THE
Sxrerer’s Crive. By Ned Buntline.
112. Joe Phenix, Private DETECTIVE;
or, THe LEAGUE OF THE SKELETON Keys. By Aiken.
113. The Sea Slipper; or, THE Ama-
TEUR FREEBOOTERS. By Prof. J. H. Ingraham.
114. The Gentleman from Pike; or,
Tue GHosT OF THE Canyon. By Philip S. Warne.
115. The Severed He $ or, THE
Secret or CAsTLECovucy. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.
116. Black Plume, THE Devi or THE
Sr; or, THE SORCERESS OF HELL-GaTE. By Ingraham,
117. Dashing Dandy, Taz Hotspur oF
THE Hits; By Major Dangerfield Burr.
118. The Burglar Captain; or, THE
FALLEN Star. By Prof. J. H. Ingraham.
119. Alabama Joe; or, THE Yazoo
Man-Huntrers. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
120. The TexanSpy. By N. M. Curtis.
121. The Sea Cadet. By Ingraham.
122. Saul Sabberday, THe Ivior Spr;
or, LULIONA, THE SEMINOLE. By Ned Buntline.
123. Alapaha, the Squaw; or, THE
RENEGADES OF THE BorDER. By Francis Johnson.
124. Assowaum, the Avenger; or,
Tue Doom or THe Destroyers. By Francis Johnson.
125. The Blacksmith Outlaw; or,
Merry Eneuanp. By Harrison Ainsworth.
126. The Demon Duelist; or, THE
LeaGus oF STEEL. By Colonel Thos. H. Monstery.
27. Sol Scott, THE Maskep Mrnzr; or,
Dan Brown’s Dovustz. By Joseph E. Badger.
128. The Chevalier Corsair ; or, THE
HeriTaGe OF HatreD. By the author of “ Merle.”
129. Mississi pi Mose; or, A Srronc.
Man’s SACRIFICE. 2 dward Willett. :
130. Captain Volcano; or, THz Man
OF THE RED REVOLVERS. By Albert W. Aiken,
131. Buckskin Sam,THE TEXAN TRAILER,
or, THE BANDITS OF THE Bravo. By Col. Ingraham.
132. Nemo, King of the Tramps; or,
Tue Romany Girw’s VENGEANCE. By’ Whittaker.
183. Rody, the Rover; or, Taz Rin-
BONMAN OF IRELAND. By William Carleton.
134. Darkie Dan, THE CoLoRED Derxc-
TIvE; or, THE Misstssipp1 Mystery. By Ingraham.
135. The Bush er; or, THE
Haur-Breep Bricape. By Francis J 5
136. The Outlaw-Hunter; or, Rep
Joun, THE BusH Rancer. By Francis Johnson.

OU Coomes.
138. e Border Bandits; or, Tam
Horst-Tursr’s Tra. By Francis Johnson. ‘
139. Fire-Eye, THE Sra HyYENA; or,
Tue Brive or A BuccaNEER. By Col. P. Ingraham,
140. The Three Spaniards. By
George Walker. ;
141. Equinox Tom, THz BULLY or RED
Rock. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

142. ora ee Crimson, THE MAN OF THE
Iron Face. By Major Dangerfield Burr.

Leacug. By Col. Thos. Hoyer Monstery. ‘

144, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame.
By Victor Hugo.

145. Pistol Pards; or, Sort Hanp,
THE SILENT SPORT FROM CrINNABAR. By W. R. Eyster.

146. The Doctor Detective; or, THE
Mystery of THE Gotpen Corrin. By Geo. Lemuel.

147. Gold Spur, THE GENTLEMAN FROM
Texas; or, THE CHILD oF THE ReGiMENT. By Col,
Prentiss Ingraham.

148. One- Armed Alf, THE Grant
Hunter oF THE Great Lakes; or, THE Mar oF
Micuiaan. By Oll Coomes.

149. The Border Rifles. By Gustave
Aimard,

150. El Rubio Bravo, THz Kine or |

THE SWORDMEN. By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery-

151. The Freebooters.
Aimard. Ready September 14th.

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1 Was SHe His Wire? Mrs. Mary R. Crowell 20c | 52 A Romance or a Poor Youne Girv. Ellet.. 10c ; 88 Fiorerre.
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3 Two Giris’ Lives. By Mrs. M, R. Crowell.
9 Taz War or Hearts. Corinne Cushman, .
11 Tae Fatse Wipow. Mrs. J. D. Burton. ..
12-13 Lost ror Love. Miss M. E. Braddon.. ..
14-15 Totters or THE Sea. By Victor Hugo...
16 Taz QuapRoon. By Catharine A Warfield.
17-18 UnciE Siias. J. S. Le Fanu 49
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29 A Giru’s Heart. By Rett Winwood .....
80-31 Rep as A Rosz is Sue. Rhoda Broughton.
82 Tue Lity oF St. Erne. By Mrs. Crow ....
83 STRANGELY Wep. By Mrs. J. D. Burton....
34 Tue Gipsy Brive. M. E. O. Malen. ....
385 Anne TEMPLE. 7 v. J. H. Ingraham,
86 Wirnout Mercy. By Bartley T. Campbell. 10c
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88 Brave BarBara, By Corinne Cushman .. 10c
39 A DANGEROUS WoMAN, Margaret Blount.. 10¢c
40 Ovma’s Love. = Henrietta E. De Conde.. 10¢
41 Lost: A Wire. By Corinne Cushman ....
42 Winnine Ways. By Margaret Blount. .
43 A Woman’s Heart. By Mrs, M. V. Victor.
44 Taz Deap Letrer. By Seeley Regester. .
45 Lorp Liste’s Daueuter. By C. M. Braeme.
46 A Woman’s Hanp. By author ‘ Dead Letter.’
47 Viats or WratTH. By Mrs. Mary R. Crowell.
48 A Witp Girt, By Corinne Cushman... . 10c
49 Tae Mappest MarriaGe Ever Was. Burton.
> 50 Love iv A Maze. By Mrs. E. F. Ellet......
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|

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Daughton gece cots. ame at | sient past

Reed Crowell... 10c

59 A WickED Woman. By Lillie D. U. Blake.. 10c

60 BLIND BARBARA’S SECRET.

61 AN AMERICAN QUEEN. By Grace Mortimer. 10c

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By Philip S.Warne. 10c
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Daughter. .... 4g eGR a et A NA CCE RE =
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75 Prerry AND Proup, By Corinne Cushman. 10c
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90 For A Woman’s Saxe. By Watts Phillips.
91 ‘He CometrH Not,’ Sam Sar. By Thomas.
92 Tue New Maepauen. By Wilkie Collins.
93, AN OpEN VERDICT. By Miss M. E, Braddon,
94 SworD and Gown. y Geo. A. Lawrence.
95 A Beaaar on Horsepack. By James Payne,
96 Her Face Was Her Fortune. By Robinson. i

Mary Halpine., 10c | 97 Janz Eyre. By Charlotte Bronte, ....

98 WRECKED IN Port. By Edmund Yates...

99 Taz CoLtEEN Bawn. By Gerald Griffin...

100 An Amsrrious Girt; or, She Would Be an
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101 Foun Puay. By. Charles Reade and Dion
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102 Carita. By Mrs. Oliphant............... +.

103 A Woman Harmr. By Charles Reade.

104 Arter Dark. By Wilkie Collins....

105 Harp Times. By Charles Dickens

106 Grir. By B. L. Farjeon............

107 Fenton’s Qurst. By Miss Braddon.

108 Ture Featuers. By W. Black........... 1

109 Jonn Hauirax, GENTLEMAN. Miss Mulock.

110 Murpuy’s Master. By J. Payn... ... i

111 Hears or Money. By W. E. Norris....

112 In Mortau Perr. & vert R. Crowell. .

118 Taz Deap Secret. By Wilkie Collins....

114 Ciroups anp SunsHine. By Charles Reade. 1

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The Only Young Ladies’ Library of First-Class Copyright Novels Published. Price, Five Cents,

1 The Masked Bride; or, Wm. Sue Mar-
ry Him. 7 Mrs. a Crowell,
2 Was It Love? or, CoLLEGIANS AND SWEET-
HEARTS. By Wm. Mason Turner, M. D.
3 The Girl Wife. By Bartley T. Campbell.
4 A Brave Heart, By Arabella Southworth.
5 Bessie Raynor, the Work Girl,
By Wm. Mason Turner, M. D.
6 The Secret Marriage. By Sara Claxton.
7 A Daughter of Eve; or, Buinpep sy
Love. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell.
8 Heart to Heart; or, Fam Puy.us’ Love.
By Arabella Southworth.
9 Alone in the World; or, Taz Youne
Man’s Warp. By the author of ‘ Clifton.”
10 A Pair of Gray Eyes; or, Tae Emzr-
ALD ‘Ngckiace. By Rose Kennedy.

11 Entangled, By Henrietta Thackeray.

12 His Kawful Wife; or, Myra, raz Camp
or Apoption. By Mrs. Ann'S. Stephens,

13 Madcap, the Little Quakeress, By
Corinne Cushman. :

14 Why I Married Him: or, Taz Womsn
mn Gray. By Sara Claxton.

15 A Fair Face; or, Our iy THE Wor~p.
By Bartley T. Campbell. p :

16 rae er Not; or, Taz Tros Knicut,
-By Margaret Leicester.

17 Loyal Lover. By A. Southworth.

18 Mis Idol; or, THe ILt-SrarruD MaRRLGe.

By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell,

19 Bhe Broken Betrothal; or, Love ver-
sos Hate. By Mary Grace Halpine.

20 Orphan Nell, the Orange Girf3 or,
Tue WitcHes or NEw YORK. ile Penne.

21 Now and Forever; or,’ Wxy Pio Sx
Marry Him. By Henrietta keray.

22 Whe Bride of an Actor. By the author
of ‘ Alone in the World,” ete., ete.

23 Leap Year; or, Way Sun Proposep. By
Sara Claxton,

24 Wer Face Was Her Fortune. By
Eleanor Blaine.

25 Only a Schoolmistress; or, Har Un-
TOLD Secret. By Arabella Southworth. °

26 Without a Heart, By P..Ingraham.

27 Was She a Coquette? or; A Srranaz
CovurrsHip. By Henrietta Thackeray. i

28 Sybil Chase: or, Toe GamMeier’s Wirt,’

By Mrs. Ann 8. Stephens.
29 Hor Her Dear Sake. By Sara Claxton.
30 The Bouquet Girl: or, A Mmuron oF

Monzy. B .
31 A Wad By Mary A. Denison.
the rima Donna: or,

iriana
me Bosus AND Es, By A. Southworth,

 

1/65 The Wife's Secret,

 

3
| 39

| 42 eer

33 The Three Sisters. By Alice Fleniing.

34 A Marriage of Convenience: or, Was
He A Count? By Sara Claxton.

35 Sinned Against.By Clara Augusta.

36 Sir Archer’s Bride... By A. Southworth.

37 The Country Cousin. Rose Kennedy.

8 His Own Again. Arabella Southworth,

Flirtation. By Ralph Royal.

40 Pledged to Marry. By Sara Claxton.

41 Blind Devotion. By Alice Fleming.

the Beautiful, or, His Sxc-
onD Lovge. By A. Southworth.

43 The Baronet’s Secret Sara Claxton.

44 The Only Daughter: or, Broraer
AGAINST Lover. By Alice Fleming.

45 Her Hidden Foe. Arabella Southworth.

46 The Little Heiress, By M. A. Denison.

47 Because She Loved im; or, How
Wuit Enp, By Alice ee

48 In Spite of Herself. By.S. R. Sherwood.

49 His Heart’s Mistress; or, Love ar
First Siext, By Arabella Southworth.

50 The Cuban Heiress 3 or, Tox Prisonzr
or LA VinTRES&E, By Mrs. Mary A. Denison.

51 Two Woung Girls; or, Tae Brive or
an Earu, By Alice Fleming.

52 The Winged Messengers or, Risxina
ALL For A Heart. By Mary Reed Crowell.

53 Agnes Hope, the Actress 5 or, Tax Ro-
MANCE OF A Rusy Rine. W. M. Turner, M. D.

54 One Woman’s . 3 SaveD
FromtTut Srrzer. By.George 8S, Kaime.

55 She Did Not Love Him; or, Stoormne
To Congumr. By Arabella Southworth.

56 Love-Mad3 or, Brrroraep, Marrmp,
DIvoRCcED AND ——. W. M. Turner, M. D.

57 A Brave Girl. By Alice Fleming.

58 The Ebon Mask. Mary R. Crowell.

59 A Widow's Wiles, hel Bernhardt.

60 Cecil’s Deceit. By Jennie Davis Burton.

61 A Wicked Heart. By Sara Claxton.

62 The Maniae Bride. By M. Blount.

63 The Creole Sisters, By Anna E. Porter.

64. What Jealousy Did; or, Tax Hem or:
Worsitny Graner. By Alice Fleming.

Col, Juan Lewis

66 A Brother’s Sin. By Rachel, Bernhardt,

67 Forbidden Bans, Arabella Southworth,

68 Weavers and Weft, By M. E. Braddon,

‘| 69 Camille; or, Taz Fate or « Coquerrs.

By Alex Dumas. es
70 The Two Orphans, ‘By D’Ennery.

71 My Young Wife, By My Young Wife's
Husband. 4
72 The Twe Widows. By Aanic Thomas

| 98 Aliee Learmont.

 

73 Rose Michel; or, Tae TRIALs or A Fac
tory Girt. By Maude Hilton.

74 Cecil Castlemaine’s Gage. By Ouida,

75 The Black Lady of Duma, By J.S8.

By Mrs. Rowson.

Le Fanu.

76 Charlotte Temple,

77 Christian Oakley’s Mistake. By the
author of ‘“John Halifax; Gentleman.”

78 My Young Husband. By Myself.

79 A Queen Amongst Women. By the
author of “Dora Thorne.”

80 Her Lord and Master.
Marryat.

81 Lucy Temple.

82 A Long Time Ago,

83 Playing for High Stakes. By Annie
Thomas.

84 The Laurel Bush. By the author of
“John Halifax, Gentleman.”

85 Led Astray. By Octave Feuillet.

86 Janet’s Repentance. By George Eliot,

87 Romance of a Poor Young Man,
By Octave Feuillet.

88 A Berrible Deed; or, Aut ror Gorn,
By Emma Garrison Jones.

89 A Gilded Sin.

90 The Author’s Daughter.
Howitt.

91 Whe Jilt. By Charles Reade.

92-Eileen Alanna; or, Tar Dawnine oF THE
Day. By Dennis O'Sullivan,

93 Love's Victory. By B.-L. Farjeon.

94 The Quiet Heart. By Mrs, Oliphant,

95 Lettice Arnold. By Mrs. Marsh.

96, Haunted Feared: or, THE Broken Br-
TROTHAL, By Rachel Bernhardt.

97 Hugh Melton. By Catharine King,
By Miss Mulock,

99 Marjorie Bruce’s Lover. By Mary
Patrick. Ready October 4th. A
Water. By

100 Through Fire and 'e

_Frederick Talbot, Beady October 11th.
101 Hannah. By Miss Mulock. October 18, |
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