Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 21, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 June 1892 — HEARTS OF GOLD OR THE HEIRESS OF MAPPLE LEAF FARM [ARTICLE]

HEARTS OF GOLD OR THE HEIRESS OF MAPPLE LEAF FARM

CHAPTER Xl-Contlnued. Ralph Prescott needed no lurther information on which to base rapid, progressive action. His eyes gleamed as if the happiness of a lifetime had come in one flashing second of space. His face showed .satisfaction, supreme confidence, victory. He started straight back to Ridgeton that very hour, only on the way he halted at a little town. It was the one the miller had referred to as the place where he had traced Kis Runaway daughter and her thieving husband. Ralph Prescott visited the clergyman of the village. He was closeted with him for an hour or more. When he resumed his journey, his evil 'ace was more victorious than ever. Plot and counterplot kept his thoughts >usy until he reached Ridgeton. He did not proceed at once to the former home of the recluse, Geoffrey Forsythe. A night’s rest and reflection were aeoessary to act clearly and make no mistakes. At dark the next evening he knocked joldly at the door of the house that low sheltered the disguised Ruth Elliott. She opened it timidly. Her glasses, raise hair and widow’s cap well concealed all traces of the youthful face beiind them. “I wished to see you on a matter of business, Mrs. Easton,” said Prescott plainly. The woman did not ask him in. Slightly nervous, she said: “I do not see what business you can have with me, sir?” “It is in reference to Mr. Forsythe’s will.” “You had better see his lawyer, then.” “No, I must see you. Please admit me. It is a matter of intense personal Importance to yourself alone. ” Reluctantly, the disguised Ruth admitted her unwelcome visitor. She was more disturbed at the proximity of a man she dreaded than at any thought of his penetrating her disguise. The lamp in the room was shaded so +s to cast her face in shadow. She had successfully adopted a tone that little resembled her natural voice. “Be seated,” she said, calmly. “Thank you. Now then, Mrs. Easton,” pursued Prescott, briskly, “I have come to see you about—Paul Dalton!”

CHAPTER XII. CRUSHED. Ralph Prescott fixed his eye 3 penetratingly upon his hostess, as he emphasized the name he had spoken. Something sinister in their expression caused Ruth to start slightly. With masterly control.of the role she had assumed, however, she said simply: “Proceed, sir.” “You know this man. You have been seeking to find him. ” “How dare you interfere in my affairs.” * “Because —I know you.” That was the climax. The words were simple, but they comprised a volame in expression and significance. “You know me?” faltered the disguised girl. “Yes, Ruth Elliott, I know you.” The mask was down. He had expected a scone —agitation, hysterics. He was mistaken. Only a flutter of the false hair, a slight contraction of the muscles about the eyes, and Ruth looked up steadily. “Yes, Ralph Prescott, you have penetrated my secret> but I warn you I am no longer the timid girl who shrank at vain threats ” “Indeed!” sneered the nettled Prescott. “But the wife of a man for whose sake I have st?eled my heart to surprises, sorrow, and pain. You know me. What of it? My story will show nothing criminal in my being here disguised—rather merit, necessity.” “I know all your story, all your plottings, all your hopes ” “I doubt it.” “And I come to warn you, to aid you, Ruth,” and the schemer’s accents grew tender. •“'We were friends once. We must be again.” “Must!.” “Yes; for if you ever needed a friend, a Counselor, it is now. You believe me sordid, heartless, selfish. It is not so. For your sake I come here—for yours alone. You havm been, you are being, wretchedly, wickedly deceived. Your husband " “Stop!” The imperious mandate rang forth clear as a clarion note. As Ruth rose indignantly to her feet, her eyes flashing, her voice vibrating ■with firmness, the craven cowered. “I will speak!” he muttered, doggedly. “I say you are being deceived.” “By my husband?” “By the man you believe to be your husband.” “Do you dare insult me by doubting?” “His honesty, his fidelity? Yes, Ruth Elliott, Ido not come with idle words. I bring proofs!” “Proofs!” uttered the girl, scornfully. “Yes ” “Of what?”

“Of the fact that you are not, and never were, Paul Dalton’s wife. He is a scoundrel, a thief, a bigamist. Bead!” His words dazed Buth. The paper he had suddenly extended startled her, for her eyes read on its exterior the Indorsement “oopy,” and the further words, “certificate of marriage of Paul Dalton •and Isabel Danby.” “He was married before, his first wife is alive. He was a thief then, he is a thief now. The clergyman who gave me that document will swear to him— Buth—Buth—it has been too much for her!” No need to urge further conviction. The last blow had told. With a moan, Buth Elliott tottered and fell in a dead swoon. Balph Prescott looked anxious, but triumphant. He lifted her to a couch. He applied a flask of spirits to her nostrils. He grew alarmed at the icy. coldness of her brow, at the marble, whiteness of ter hands. “If it has killed her!” he panted. “No, ao, it is but a shock, but—l must get

BY GENEVIEVE [?]LMER.

help—some neighbor, some woman. Tfie worst is over, she knows, she believes. Henceforth, it is plane-sailing. ” He hurried from the room, intent on summoning help. He rang at the doorbell of the next house, briefly informing the woman living there that Mrs. Easton, the nurse, had been taken suddenly ill, and accompanied by her, returned to the Bickroom.

For an hour the woman worked on the inanimate Ruth, startled at recognizing her, divested of her disguise^ “I can’t understand it t Mr. Prescott,” she said. “I fear her condition is dangerous, ” —* “Oh, don’t say that!” bieathed Prescott. “You had better get a doctor.” A physician was soon in charge of the invalid. He looked serious as he left the house. At its door he said to Prescott: “That woman had better remain near her all night, and give her the medicines I have left regularly. She seems to have sustained a terrible shock to her nerves. Good evening, Mr. Presoott. I will call in the morning. Had you not better send for her father?” “He would not come if she was dying.” “Hum! an extraordinary case (altogether,” mused the Doctor. Prescott stood in the open doorway, lost in anxious reverie. If Ruth died, what could he hope to gain? He started slightly as he noticed the figure of a man lurking in the shadow of the trees. “What do you want there?” he called out sharply, advancing a step or two. The lurker came into the radius of the hall-lamp, shining through the open front door, at that moment. “Mercy!” gasped the startled Ralph Prescott; “Paul Dalton, or his ghost!”

CHAPTER XIII. WHAT A CHANGE! “Paul Dalton or his ghost!" Ralph Prescott had apparently spoken truly. The intruder was now fully revealed, and at him the startled schemer stared wonderingly. The first shock of the strangeness of the appearance passed away quickly, however. It did not seem to be because Paul Dalton had returned, because he was here, that Prescott was bewildered, it was the suggestion of the unreal, of the uncanny, that had jarred his nerves and left him a gaping, dubious marveler For there was something unusual, something unnatural, in the appearance of the intruder. His lurking actions were rather cautious than stealthy, and as he returned the look of his challenger it was with an expression in his eyes entirely foreign to the keen, penetrating look that the former farm superintendent ordinarily wore. Again, a few days had made a great change in Paul Walton’s features. He had shaven his face perfectly clean, his hair had been cropped close, he dressed in a loud, affected style. His eyes seemed to have grown smaller, his face was more puffy. Such a change Ralph Prescott would scarcely have believed possible had he been told of it, but personal inspection was his, and he could only look and wonder. Into his mind crept a solution of the mystery, quick and tangible. Paul Dalton had probably been away visiting his other wife —seeing other friends, and had modernized his appearance from the farm employe to the polished gentleman and villain of society. Ho had heard of his good fortune, doubtlessly. He could now throw down the mask. From the smooth, courteous hypocrite, he would become the haughty, domineering tyrant. Every fine sentiment seemed to hare left his face. He looked like a man who had been dissipating heavily. In fact, only that the general contour of features was the same, one might have believed him some person slightly resembling Paul Dalton, but by no means the refined, frank-eyed lover of Ruth Elliott.

“You’re Prescott,” he remarked, and the man addressed started vaguely, for the intonation sounded as if the speaker had a cold—as little like Paul Dalton as possible. However, Prescott scowled, drew back, and, jerking his head over his shoulders, said: “She’s in there.” “She, who? Oh! the girl?” * The intruder edged away a little. “Sick to death,” supplemented Prescott. Paul Dalton look relieved. “I don’t care to see her,” he said. “I’ve come on business; just got word about the fortune. See here, Prescott, where does the lawyer who made the will live?” “A worse rascal than I thought him!" muttered Prescott, studying the sensual, selfish face of the intruder. “He thinks little enough of Buth now. Maybe the fortune was his scheme all along. I never in my life saw avarice change a man so. If I had met him casually I actually would not have taken him for Paul Dalton.” Aloud, he did not at once reply to Dalton. Why should he bandy words with the man who had robbed him of bride and booty? And then, the glow of sinister curiosity led him to the semblance of a friendly interest. “The lawyer? Only a few squares distant,” he replied, finally. “Show me where.” “Don’t you wish to see your—your wife?” “No.” “You’re in a tremendous hurry to grab your fortune, it seems to me. ” “I am.” Terse, practical, the replies came. Prescott closed the door of the house. “Come,” he said. “I’ll show you the way to the lawyer. Say! ” He halted with a suspicious start. He stared piercingly at his companion. “Well?” placidly demanded the other. “It’s strange you ask me to show you the way to the lawyer’s. You knew it well enough when you lived here. ” “Eh! Of course, why, yes. But, you see, I didn’t know which lawyer made the will, I only got a hint of the fortune being left me, in a roundabout way.” “Oh! that’s it?"

“Exactly.” “Well, you know the way to old Drew’s. He’s the lawyer. One word, Paul Dalton. I won’t go any farther with you, so one word before we part. ” “A doaeu, If you like." “You and I are mortal enemies ” began Prescott, with lowering brows. “II you will have it so."

“lou robbed me of Ruth Elliott—you got old Geoffrey Forsythe’s fortune. I am e wronged, plundered man.” “Go on,” nodded Dalton, with provokIng coolness. “I warn you, now and here, that you have no right to Forsythe’s money. I warn you, now and here, that you will have to.flght for its possession,” continued Prescott, hotly. “Very good, I’ll fight for it then.” “You are a scoundrel. Your acts show that you care no more for the brokenhearted girl dying in yonder house than for the dirt under your feet. I warn you to leave here—to renounce the fortune rightfully hers and mine, or ” “Well, young mau, or what?” blandly demanded Paul Dalton—this new Paul Dalton, all avarice, all heartlessness. “I shall make my first move.” “And that move will be?” “Your arrest for bigamy!” cried Ralph Prescott, with flaming eyes, flaunting before his companion the copied marriage certificate, that proved Paul Dalton to be the husband of two wives. [to BE CONTINUED.)