People's Pilot, Volume 6, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 June 1896 — THE NEXT HEIR. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE NEXT HEIR.

A Thrilling Recital of Adventure and Loye.

Founded on Actual Occurrence in American Life.

Baek numbers of the Pilot containing this story will he kept on hand at this office. New subscribers can begin their time with the first chapter of story and receive all hack copies. Ten cents pays for the Pilot thirteen weeks, from April 30 to July ‘23 inclusive, to new subscribers only. ■ You poor little girl!” he said, almost involuntarily. “You deserve a better fate, upon my soul!” Then he walked hurriedly away- a vision of her tearful eyes and tremulous lips, an echo of her sweet, low. sorrowful tone, pursuing and tormenting him. “I wish to God I could spare her! Poor little guileless baby, with no one weapon but her innocence and truth to ward off my deadliest blow! They stood her in good stead tonight. I should have compromised her with Cyril else, perhaps fatally. And they must be parted! I shall have another knot in my already tangled skein if this thing goes on much longer. Already my poisen works; he feels the yoke he has placed on his own shoulders hard to bear. And May has no small attraction for him. tight against it as he will. All works well. Hirst to part him and Dolly by means of May. then to estrange him from May by means of Dolly—that’s the game! They are all mere puppets in my hands: I pull the strings that set them moving. A bold game, and difficult, but the stakes are large- nothing less than the Huntslord fortune!” So he kept on his course remorselessly, regardless of whom he trampled or destroyed. He put away the thought of Dolly’s face.” “It is not forme to suffer for her sake. She belongs to Cyril, heart and soul. The fool! Why is God so good to fools, I wonder? I do not love the girl—l. love no one; but had her beaut belonged to me no man living should have parted her from me as I shall part her from him as I must, part them, in justice to myself, though I pity her, poor child, upon my soul! Poor little Dolly!"

CHAPTER XXI. CHANGE MAKES CHANGE. “He said that I 'deserved a better late;' those were his very words as he turned away. What better fate could be for me than to be my own darling Cyril’s wife? Oh! Rose. what could lie mean? She had turned at last in her craving for sympathy, to the one friend that was left, her still the nurse of her infancy, her servant now, but no less her faithful friend. Rose spoke indignantly. Many and bitter thoughts and fears had been tormenting her of late; again the old-time misgiving possessed her mind— “something's going wrong." Having the opportunity at last, she spoke out vehemently: “What better fate? Oh! my darling, a better and a brighter fate 1 hoped for you. That you are his wife I believe, indeed but. alas my dear, unacknowledged one. And are you not a stranger from your home torn from your father, you. his only’’’child— and still not acquainted with your husband's family? For which of them have you ever seen but Mr. Fred? and I misdoubt me but you would do better to have never seen him. Dolly look no notice of the last remark. One sentence alone of Rose's speech absorbed her whole attention. “I deserve sorrow! I deserve it. for my treatment of poor papa! Oh. how he must have grieved for me; how ill they must of thought of me at home; how much poor Frank must have suffered! Did they love me as 1 love Cyril. I wonder? Can men love so? Oh. I have deserved to suffer. 1 ’ And she fell weeping on Rose’s faithful breast. “You think perhaps, that 1 don't grieve for poor papa, because I seldom speak of ' him. Oh. Heaven! When is he absent from my thoughts? Sometimes I dream of him- sick, dying, dead and I start from sleep, even in my husband's arms, and cry myself awake. It is only Cyril’s love that has kept my heart from breaking for sake of poor papa!” She was lying in Rose’s arms now. as she had done when a child, rocked to and fro, and hushed and soothed, upon her old friend's tender bosom. The ice of her long silence was broken up. and her secret sorrow burst forth freely. “And my darling does not like to see me cry. He thinks lam not happy, that I repent my sacrifices for his sake—so, much less, 1 suppose, than he has made for me. Oh. Rose can any one sacrifice anything much more precious than fair fame in one’s own house, and a tender father’s love? And 1 don’t repent what I have done—only the cruelty to papa-all the rest I would do again for Cyril’s sake. I love him—l love him—oh! I love him. My darling, my husband, my life! He is a million times dearer to me than he was as my lover; I would lay down

my life gladly for his sake! Don’t blame him Rose—never say ore word against him; let me come and talk to you when my heart aches too sorely, but never say one word against my love!*’ And Rose agreed to all. Her object was, first of all, to calm and soothe the agitated girl, and console her for her husband’s absence, “He’ll soon come back,” said Rose cheerfully. “And when he does I’ll never complain again - oh! never. To think that he left me without a kiss. Oh. my husband!” The tears broke forth afresh. They were not the first tears Dolly had shed since her marriage, poor child—they were neither to be the bitterest nor the last. Cyril came back in about" two weeks.* He greeted bis pale wife with a warmth of affection that soon brought back the roses to her cheeks. “Why you have been fretting,” he said, “silly child!” and he kissed her again and again. He had not fretted. Why should he. being sure of her love and truth, and knowing so exactly when and where he could find her at his will. He offered no explanation of his absence, and she was too timid, now. to ask for one. -He loved her—she would be content with that herself. She would ask no questions that might make him frown perhaps leave her again without a kiss. Her tender loving heart found it hard to get over that. And yet his silence pained her. Was it not hard that Fred should have his confidence in preference to her—his wife? “Does he think Fred can love him as I love?” she said to Rose. “Ah, never, never!” Fn short, her secure confidence in his love for her was shaken, although she realized it not yet. A shrinking timidity began to grow into her manner with him; she doubted her own power; she was sad and almost shy, where formely she had been joyously secure and innocently bold. She loved him more than ever, but shrank almost unconsciously from showing it so plainly as of old.

As for him he found her less charming than at first, but refrained from asking himself “why?" Her spirits were less buoyant, her beauty less bright; 1 am afraid he sometimes compared her disparagingly with another beauty whose radiance had lately dazzled him. “It's strange how a fellow changes,” he would muse, “I never used to greatly admire May’s style, and I thought Dolly exquisite; Heigho! ” and he sighed impatiently. I t was thus that matters stood at the time of the ball when the young wife’s poor little plead ing note fell into the beauty’s hands and set her wondering, frowning meanwhile at her own fair’ thoughtful image in the glass. “Where is this ‘home,' now? And who is Dolly?" It was Prank Osoorne who gave her an answer.

CHAPTER XXII. HOW THE SEED BORE FRIT! . She sat waiting for him in her elegant boudoir. An heiress in her own right as well as a beauty, her surroundings were those of luxury and wealth. Throughout the twenty years of her prosperous, pampered life, never; until now, had she known a fancy crossed or-a desire ungratified. “She was at home to-day to Captain Osborne only. This was the order she had given. She would see him to whom she owed her life, and tell him of the sting, the mortification, the wound that had darkened and imbitter'ed it to-day. They would sympathize with each other's wrongs, she thought perhaps, help each other to revenge. “.lust as I. being a woman, may succeed in finding his poor little country girl where ha would fail, so he may follow Cyril for me. as I could not. and track this Dolly down! Oh. that he would come!” she added impatiently. She was not at all clear as to what she should do when she found her rival—that remained for after consideration. The first thing was to hunt her down, and to do'that she counted on Frank’s aid.

No doubt that this Dolly was a wicked, designing woman ever crossed her mind, while, with similar consistency, she pitied Cyril, regarding him as the victim of her snares.. It was curious with what persistency she had set her heart on winning this man. with whom she was certainly not in love. , Probably Fred's judgment was right it was her pride more than her heart that was engaged: that resented his long invulnerability to her charms and demanded his complete subjugation. Perhaps, too, another guess of that cunning schemer’s had not fallen altogather wide of t-he mark; there had been more of tenderness, more of real womanly feeling in the pitying interest she had bestowed on Frank in his distress last night, than ever—-in her most romatic dreaming, her most insatiable craving for conquest, or her most flattered vanity and pride—she had felt for the man whom she deemed it a point of honor to refuse or marry even Cyril Vernon Huntsford. “For it is natural that we should confide in each other, being such true and tried friends,” she said to Frank. “Why didn’t we fall in love with each other when you drew me out of the water that day—as the hero and heroine of such

romatic affairs generally do? It would have saved much pain and sorrow to us both; for I should be faithful if once I loved I am very sure; and you are worth a good true woman’s loving!” A strange speech from lips so young and sweet, and beautiful they might have seemed a challenge to another man, or from another woman’; but the beauty was for her outspoken,fearless candor. and Frank understood her well. For all that, the vision of a day five years ago —before he had learned to build, his manhood’s hopes on Dolly’s tender beauty—arose beforhim; again he saw that madcap, self-willed girl, whose pranks and frolics had made her famous half the country round—struggling madly in the rushing mill race, her lovely face distorted, her dark eyes'wild with fear. Again he felt the tor ture of suspense, the putting forth of all his proud, young, untried strength, the agony of the brief, strained, desperate endeavor: the fear of fatal failure, the joyous pride of hardly-won success. Again he felt her soft, wet. clinging arms about his neck, as he drew her up the steep and muddy bank, and realized that, of a verity, he had saved her. “I wish we had!” he cried impulsively. “I wish to heaven we had May; as you say, it "would have spared much suffering to us both. But neither of them seemed to remember that their own fate was in their own hands to-day, as well as five years ago to make or to mar; neither asked the question: “Is it even now. to late?” And, aftei’ all, our hearts are not in our own hands, whatever our fate may be! “You shall finish the history of your poor little lost love 'first,” said May. “After that I will tell you what troubles me. Let me see—it was Greendale where this sad affair happened; name is familiar to me. Mr. Huntsford to whom I introduced you last night, and whom ‘rumor assigns me for a husband, stopped there for quite a long time last summer. He may have met your little country girl —perhaps if you should choose to confide iq him. may give us some clew to her lover. What was the villian’s name?” She spoke earnestly. Ail her sympathies were enlisted in Frank’s cause and because he so tenderly spared and pitied the girl who had betrayed him. she spared and pitied her too. The girl had been an innocent, ignorant child, she thought- all her anger.was for the man who had deceived her. “His name was not a comman one." said Frank, “and sometime, since I have failed so to find.him, I have thought that it may have been assumed. He was an artist by profession—or so he said -adark, fascinatiag, handsome man. just I the one to charm my simple darling. He called himself Cyril Vernon. “Cyril Vernon!” His fair companion sprang suddenly up from his side white to her very lips. “Cyril Vernon! No. no, it is impossible!” Then she sank down again, trembling visibly, and covering her face with her hands. Frank caught them and removed them, gazing into her eyes—scarce knowing what he did. “It is the name he gave at the hotel. Do you know him? For God's’ sake, speak do you know him?” “No. no, no! But I have heard the name. Lt belongs to one whom I have believed a man of honor. Some villi-an has assumed it, as you say. beyond all doubt. Cyril Vernon—Greendale. Oh. Heaven, what does this mean?” She paused a moment, then uttered a sudden cry as a new suspicion dawned upon her mind. “You have not told me her name! A little country nameyou said was it was it- Dolly?’ ’ “It was!” She whipped a little letter from her pocket. “Do you think that she wrote this?” He seized it eagerly glanced at the wpll known writing, read the timid tender words, that told so simply such a pitiful tale, and sank down with a groan of agony. “It is her hand. Poor child! Poor unhappy child! Pleading already so humbly to the wretch for whom she has periled her soul!” Then he rose up. grand in his wrath and thirst for vengeance. “But lie shall answer to me for all! God bless,you, May; it is you. not I who saves her. Tell me where to find this man—this Cyril , Her answer was a death-blow to his hopes. “I can tell you nothing. 1 know no more than you do where this ‘home’ may be. The letter came into my hands by accident . I found it trailing in the lace of my ball dress last night where some one had dropped it on the floor. On the impulse of' the moment 1 put it into my bosom aid carried it with me home.” "And Cyril Vernon? You know him at least —and through him We shall find her?” “You are wrong. I only said I had heard the the name, as that of a man of truth and, honor. But have patience—trust in me— give me time to think—for good or ill. I swear I will find Dolly!” “For good or ill?” “Ay, who can tell what the end will be? All night—all day, I have been wondering who she was, and Fate sent you to tell me. You served me once—well, lam not ungrateful. Have patience. wait, try to have faith in me. It is I, not you that must find Dolly!”

He caught her hand in his pleadingly, despairingly. “Oh, May! And ydu think that you will find her?” “I know that I shall find her. Frank Osbdrne! For what I know not. lam wronged as well as you—the end of this Heaven must determine! But," she set her proud lips, her dark eyes flashed and lightened—the power of a firm and - resolute purpose ennobled her lovely face “I defy one man to hide from my revenge! Sooner or later I shall find Dolly!”

CHAPTER XXIII. * MAY PAYS A VISIT. A certain proverb informs us that “when once a woman has the will, she never rests till she finds out a way.” Without in the least desiring to question the veracity or sagacity of this time-honored saw, which is-doubtless quite as wise and as true as old saws in general, I would suggest that unless this never-resting woman possesses the means to follow the “way.” when she has found it, it is likely to be very little use to her. As the famous Susan Nipper pertinently remarks: “I may wish to take a voyage to Chancy, but I mayn't be able to leave the London docks,” May Ellis had the will to find Dolly.' Without expending any great amount of energy on the endeavor she discovered the way also. It was simple enough and she had the, means to follow it. The modest fee of fifty dollars, placed in the hands of the eminent private detectives. Messr: Ferret and Findem, obtained for her speedy and accurate information of the private life and habits of hei‘ admirer and intended husband, Mr. Huntsford, who. it appeared, was transformed into another woman's husband, and known as Mr. Cyril Vernon whenever he went up-towp.

Startling and humiliating to her pride' as the discovery was. her recent conversation with Frank Osborne had prepared her for it. “He is a villain, and shall never be my husband,” was her first resolve. for as yet she did not realize or believe that he had already really been married to another. “He has deceived the girl, of course.” she decided, mentally. “A-mock marriage probably, since he calls her his wife. He can't have really married her. or why juggle with his true name!” She mused long and deeply, rising and walking up and down the room with slow and thoughtful steps. “I promised Frank that I would find Dolly.” she muttered presently, “and I have found her. What's to be done next?'’ Frank not being present to answer that question. she went on pondering deeply, her red lips sei, ner black brows drawn into one frowning line. “What did I want her for at first? To be revenged on her and Cyril. Poor, miserable girl, her wrongs need vengeance more than mine, I fancy. Besides. I want no vengeance now—what do I care for Cyril! Frank is worth a thousand Cyril.-. I have B e.nse to appreciate that, if Dolly had not.” A half smile dimpled her -pretty mouth fora moment then a sigh chased it away again. “Poor Frank! How much he loved’her! What do men see in these pretty baby-dolls to charm their hearts so utterly? lam curious to see this girl who has been beloved by the t wo men whom I ” She paused suddenly in her half-uttered thought, ami placed herself before a large mirror, gazing at her own haughty and beautiful image with a curious smile, half of amusement, half of scorn. 7>V- (jtyitinued.