Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 20, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 October 1898 — DOUBLY WEDDED [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

DOUBLY WEDDED

BY-CHARLOTTE M. BRAEME.

CHAPTER XXL— (Continued.) Never had hansom seemed so ponder•m, horse so lazy, driver so listless! He didl not know why Lilith sent him to MacdtaoaM or what he was to do; but he obeyed her as if she were his queen. Arrived at Prince’s Square, his knock was answered by the butler, more solemnly discouraging in his manner than ever. Mr. Macdonald? He did not think Mr. Macdonald could see anyone. Perhaps Mr. Rawson might. Would he wish to see Mr. Rawson? Of course be would; and, sis he gave his card to the man, Michael slipped a gold coin into his hand, which, although it considerably softened Mrs. Law's factotum's manner, exercised his mind; and, aa he took in the card, he felt, as he afterward told the cook, “upset.” Mr. Rawson came out; and, although ho wondered at seeing Druce just then, he asked him into the library. “These are my credentials," said Druce, handing him Lilith's letter. The rector sat down in a library chair and read Lilith’s letter—seemingly with great deliberation; but he was thinking—rapidly. “Do you mean to help us, my dear boy?” he asked. “With all my strength. I cannot say more,” said Michael. “I am not clever, as you know, sir. lam barely a man, as men go in these days—much less am I a man of the world; but, to tell you the truth, I love Miss Drew. I told her so, and she rejected me on the spot. But it made no difference to me; and, I tell you candidly, I hope to win tier some day. Meanwhile I would go to the end of the world for her; and, you see, she does me the credit of knowing that.” He spoke ingenuously. The rector appeared slightly amused; but he was not the one to underrate an enthusiastic ally. They had a long talk. He took Druce greatly into his confidence. Michael knew much of the state of affairs already; but this recent phase astonished him. “Do you mean to say they have actually put themselves out about an anonymous letter?” he asked contemptuously. “My dear sir, you should be a publie person who has made —I don’t even say a great •access —but some success! You would care for anonymous letters less than you would for a slight shower like this” —it was raining—“when you are provided with a good stout umbrella. You protect yourself by indifference, and go on just the same.” “That would scarcely do in this case,” mud Mr. Rawson sadly. “To begin with, we have to deal with adventurers. The woman who ran away with Captain Drew was plausible; she could write eloquent tetters and assume the saint at will—a way that would hoodwink anybody; but ■he may liave lied all the time. I cannot but fleel that she did. We have seen Gen. Drew’s executor—a Captain Mayne. He found no paper whatever that was an authentic witness to the death of Captain Drew. The colonel himself has started ffor Ilfracombe, to hear every particular of the unfortunate actress from the doctor and his wife under whose care she died. A detective is searching for those depraved old people, her parents, who will be compelled to stand and deliver what they know, if indeed it is to be got out of .them.” Here Willie Macdonald came in. Two days of this disturbance had changed him. His cheeks seemed hollow, he was of a ■allow pallor, his hair was rough, and he looked altogether unkempt, us if he had .been up all night. * “Ah, Druce, how are you?” he said carelessly; then he went and asked Mr. Rawson in a low tone if “they” had come tank with that ‘Bradshaw.’ ” “You can speak loud, my boy. Mr. Druce, our friend, knows all about this." “And pray who told you?” asked Willie •aurliV <*tf Michael. “I hirve had a letter from Miss Drew, asking me to offer you my services—and that I do most heartily,” said Michael, rising and going up to Willie, who was leaning with folded arms against the din- . ing talde. ! “Thanks, but there is nothing to be • done,” returned Willie, in the hard tone which is so often the index of despair. "1 am now starting for where that wornjoa wrote from, stating that her paramour Iwas dead. I expected that they had brought the latest Continental ‘Bradshaw’ to my uncle there; I was waiting for it; but they are such a time over everything!” be said irritably. “Patience? Job'£ patience would have been of no use these Mays!” Here the butler brought in the thick Bittle book with the flimsy yellow cover wtdeb lots made its appearance ah often •mid the greatest misery as in the pres■ewe of happiness, and the three, with •earnestness that was almost desperate, began to consult time tables of mail Crains, expresses abroad, and the hours to arrival and departure. Michael Druce was of great service. As at constant traveler, he was a man who bod lived in foreign countries and know their “ways” better than ho knew the raanners and customs of his own country, lie had an intention to carry out, so ho •wss unusually gentle and forbearing with Willie, who, when Michael said presently, in a determined manner. “I will nccompony you,” did not refuse. He had prewioauly refused the rector's companion ■hip, feeling that if ho failed, if lie found that Captain Drew had not died ns stated, be would have no man living witness tc Mk agony, if indeed he did nut end it by muckle there and then. Michael was inwardly gratified, though Jk» wnukl not show it, lest Macdonald, id hw irritated state, should change hW nsind. Ko he arranged everything in r a*vy methodical ami matter-of-fact manner. lie sent a note to his mother, wit A Brortru for packing, then he wrote W TABfh.

CHAPTER XXII. The next dny, Sunday, wan wet, but fctftth insisted on going to church. She 4V*.w her godfather, whs csinforted he; us

well as he could. Everything that could be done was being done. “But have you heard from any of them yet?” asked Lilith. “Surely there has been time! At least the colonel might have found out something—vou sny he is only in Devonshire. Then Michael, and Willie?” The rector explained £hat thieir business might be an affair of weeks, and during that time he could not write —how could he? Two days more, and the rector determined to face Lillian Ware —as he called her in his own mind, in his horror of what her legal name might still be. He started forthe Hall in the early morning; the harvesters were at work, the dew sparkled in the sunshine on the grassy hedgerows, the meadows looked fair and peaceful, the birds sang happily in the wood. Gazing at the lovely landscape spread out before him, at the violet haze above the wooded hills, at the streamlet curling in and out, bordered by willows under which the cattle herded, some lying down, some standing and switching their tails, it seemed impossible to him that this beautiful world could be the stage on which such a soul-tragedy would be enacted as that which threatened the innocent, loving Lillian, her husband, their boy—in fact, the whole family. He was in the lane. The next turn would bring him out opposite to the park gates. Just as he said the words aloud he turned. He heard galloping, a shrill voice urging a panting horse. He had barely time to stand aside before Lilith cantered up—she was on the squire’s black horse. “What a mercy I have met you!” she cried, springing down. “My mother—l think she is dead or dying; some lettcf—it is clinched in her hand! They have gone for Doctor Fyres—l came for you! Get up—let me ride behind you!” The rector, stunned for a moment, mounted the great creature as if he had suddenly become a boy of twenty again. Lilith sprang tip lightly and held him round the waist. Thus they arrived at the HalL ‘.‘The dining room—at once!” cried Lilith, flying before him. The rector threw the reins to a groom, who was awaiting them, half scared out of his wits, and followed her. Lillian was lying stretched upon the floor in the great dark room. At first sight the rector thought life must have left the motionless body; there was the grand, awful calm of death upon the expressionless features. Madam Ware was crouched by her daughter; she and Mary, the maid, were quietly chafing her hands, sprinkling her face, using the prescribed means of restoration. The squire was standing apart, the tears rolling down his quivering face. He looked shrunken and aged. “They have killed my gal, Rawson!” he said. “They have killed her—my only gal! But I don’t know how—l don’t know how!” Then he sobbed like a child. “Look at this!” whispered Lilith, slipping something into the rector’s hand. Walking to the window, he saw it was a crumpled letter. He smoothed it out and read: “Madam—As I find that your friends are trying to keep the truth from you, 1 feel it my duty to inform you that your husband, Captain Drew, is still alive. The woman who lived with him placed him in a lunatic a.sylum abroad before she declared him dead. Your servant, "A WELL WISHER.” “Heaven help her!” said the rector, thrusting the paper into his pocket. “The vipers! What is it for? To extort money?” It seemed impossible to him that creatures capable of writing these anonymous letters would have the courage to proclaim a lie—so his heart Tailed him. "It would be as well perhaps if this were death," he thought, seating himself sadly and silently near the prostrate figure. The squire sat nt a distance, his face buried in his hands, afraid to inquire what all this meant, with an intuitive perception that the first marriage was somehow the cause. Lilith stood alternately watching her mother and the window by which Dr. Fyres must pass to reach the entrance. The clock ticked away heavily. The seconds seemed whole painful minutes. The rector felt stupefied, bereft of ideas. If no news came, what was he to do? He told himself ho must telegraph. Hut where and to whom? “The affair has come to n deadlock," he thought, just ns cheerful, active little Dr. Fyres arrived, and came in rubbing his hands ami nodding pleasantly around, as if it were the most ordinary experience to see beautiful patients laid out Corpse-like upon the floor. "You have not moved her? Quite right, quite right. Let her lie, poor soul!” he said, feeling her pulse. "She wants rest —nervous shock. Fray do not alarm yourself, my dear lady"—to Madame Ware—“and you, rector. Why, I should have asked your help by ami by to assist in carrying Mrs. Macdonald to her room; but by the time she is in a tit state to be moved some one else will be here who has a prior right." "What?" gasped the rector. , "Oh. yes, there is little doubt of the prior right!" said tb«« little doctor aside to Mr. Rnwaon. smiling and squinting slightly as he dropped some liquid from a little vial he drew from his breast pocket into a wineglass. “In the station road I passed Mr. Macdonald and that foreign look-' ing young gentleman who was at the wedding. Mr. Macdonald looked so changed, so worn, that I at once said to myself, ‘A little matrimonial breeze!’ Of course 1 may be wrong,' he added, rending horror in the rector's sac I hope not. for these things so soon blow over, and no harm done. May I trouble you for the water jug? Thunks!" As Dr. Fyres went back his patient to try to administer the draught, the rector was giddy with mingled fear and hope. They were coming, but what news would they bring? Surely Willie would not come there to break to Lillian newa

that Captain Drew still lived? But would h« not have telegraphed—would he not have hurried back—had his news been good news? He closed his eyes; he felt more tired and low-spirited through this late worry than he had felt after writing a difficult paper on “the connection of languages in regard to their origin,” which had kept him up for several nights. The moisture was stealing through his eyelashes, and he was telling himself that he was growing very old, when the door opened, and two people stood in the doorway. The figures were still—black effigies against the light; then suddenly there was a cry, and William Macdonald rushed forward and flung himself down by his wife. Some one, who really was Michael' Druce, went round saying: “Everything is all right; I give you my word it is.” Then the rector found himself begging each person present to “leave them alone.” “I think you are perfectly right,” said Dr. Fyres, offering his arm to Madame Ware. “Mrs. Macdonald has quite recovered from her fainting fit now”—dryly, with a glance toward Lillian, whose head was supported on her husband’s shoulder. “We had better adjourn to the drawing room, and I will prescribe for all this undue excitability.” When they were all seated Michael stood on the hearth rug and related the terrible scare, gravely, but with an admixture of dry humor which softened the pain of those who had been sufferers thereby, notably Lilith and the rector. They had met with no difficulty, he and Willie. Arrived at the town whence the actress had written to Gen. Drew informing him of his son’s death, they went straightway to the Protestant minister, who had seen Captain Drew constantly during his lifetime, had kept the certificate of death, had been present when the coffin was closed, and hud buried the corpse of a man whose ill deeds had caused such cruel pain to so many. On their way to Heathstde, they had stayed a couple of hours in London, and had seen the detectives who had found the old people, and also satisfactory proofs that the communications which had caused all the trouble had emanated from them. Heathside Hall, a year later, was so peaceful, so bright, that it would have required a powerful imagination and a lively faith in an onlooker who heard the story of the trials and troubles people within its walls had bravely gone through. Michael and Lilith lived with their sweet little French mother in the old house in the lane; but they paid constant, if short, visits to the old home—the place where they first began to love each other. Their match had been made very simply, so simply that it was a long time before Lilith ceased to blush, or Michael tolaugh, when their engagement was alluded to. (The end.)