Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 20, Number 81, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 June 1899 — HIDDEN TERRORS [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HIDDEN TERRORS

I? CHAPTER IX —(Continued.) ■Many minutes slipped by before he summed courage to peruse the other letters the small box. All were signed “A. k JFilton," and all bore marks of being forfeelgn letters sent to someone across the * «ea. One passage particularly struck F*‘l inclose the draft of agreement pro- | posed. There is no time to lose; you F know how reckless he is. But there is one |l comfort; we are all in the same boat!” | “Is this the agreement spoken of ?” K thought Dick, unfolding a thicker sheet of E,paper, on which several items were jotted “Consents to settle in Oregon. Would I[like the climate. Would accept four thoui | wand pounds more. Has evidently no idea i t ms the real value of the property, or would il <4emand forty thousand. Is intent on IE Amassing capital, and intends to do so by •exporting horses. Is impatient to start, : «nd wants the money by the 25th of 'March. Demands a good gold English (E hnade chronometer, and a case of brandy 11 In addition. We are to be unmolested if Iwe comply with the above, which I have K cough ly thrown into an agreement. On i f his part he declares that he shall consider I that he has received full payment for all [ t cervices on pocketing this additional sum. || For heaven’s sake come, and get it over!” j I Startled as Dick was on scanning these fr- tines, he was yet more so on unfolding a K;>age which contained the names of him|K*Hf and of his sisters, with the dates of F their birth and of his own. His mother's 11 Christian name, “Theodora Ulvina Caroll Mne,” was added, followed by the date of 11 her weddipg with his father, “Richard It James Charlford.” Underneath was traccd, in strangely familiar characters: | £; “There must be no mistake about these.” | ' > But who would make a mistake conI, cerning such well-known facts? Not his 11?.father certainly—not his uncle, who had || lived in close intimacy with his brother all || his life. | | Rising at length in a sort of desperation K from his task, Dick replaced the papers, iKatore bewildered than ever, and with an || added sense of the certainty that there ■jpAras something disgraceful concealed—■Opomething which could not be shown to the IE World —connected with his family. K- CHAPTER X. I I The day of the fete bad dawned, and nothing outwardly had occurred of VK* particular nature to mark the flight of Bl the intervening time, yet a very great KrAeal had passed in those inner regions of ty the soul which form in truth the real life. Ki Dick had become more and more con»Winced that a dark mystery would some Rtday or other disclose itself; and it was the IE came with Mab, though she struggled ■Arainst the conviction, though Dick had ■Avoided going into details concerning the H contents of the box, and though her Bhpouthful heart was thrilling with that ra-K-Jiant dream of joy which comes with a ® ffirst and a pure affection. ■ t “Father will come back prepared to |B«nake Dick and me feel our iniquity,” Mabel, as she seated herself in the ■ barouche. “But no matter! I shall see ■ Neville Wynmore once again—l shall Blbave sweet recollections of the Manor. ■'There are some things which can never r be taken away from us!” ■ EI That day always seemed like a dream to | 4er. Midnight had sounded before the Efete was over. ■ f Mabel stood on the terrace, thinking ■ that she would soon now have said goodI by to Lord Wynmore. ■ ; “I have had what I wished so much! I ■ Ought now to be content —more than conB tent,” she said, within herself; but yet she Übfelt very sad. ■ ■"“Miss Charlford, I have been looking for K you everywhere!” said Lord Wynmore’s B voice at her elbow. “Won’t you take one l l turn with me in the grounds?” ■ Mabel's heart throbbed with wild, unIjy seasoning joy. One more walk with him, H * few more words exchanged between BEftfeem. which she would treasure for everK sore! Silently she put her hand upon Mhis arm, and under his guidance she soon B found herself apart from the throng which ■hfilled the flower garden, and in a broad, ■ •Teen alley overshadowed by trees. B F“I could not let you go away without BHAsking when I am to see you again,” he BBpaid, lightly clasping the slender fingers ■ which lay on his arm. B | She did not withdraw her hand, and he |Bpent on— B K' “You are staying some weeks longer at Kfthe Court, I hope?” B |F“Oh, no; my father is coming home next Mfcweek! We shall go back immediately,” ■ «he answered, faltering a little when she ■ alluded to her father. B l|“And are you not pleased to go home?" Hlhe said, quickly. K & “Pleased?” she cried. “How could we B/be pleased? Father is so stern; and Dick I have got into trouble! But we shall through it, as we have many a time |B|»efore —only it is worse a good deal this B is worse? Who dares to make jpEjiOU unhappy? Oh, Mabel,” he cried, forI getting his fears, forgetting all save that Bl*e longed to take her far away from every ■BEeautifnl face? Teach me how to win sobbing on his breast, and faltering incoherently a response to his passionB>te pleading. Bl BWfell me, dearest —is there any hope ifthat I may win you for my own? Oh, a&BK eried, covering her hands with kisses. « A And she, slowly raising her head, murrinured with a sweet and tender rapture: fj®o you think I can ever be unhappy

sure! There are things which might separate us.” “What things?” he asked, quickly. “Can anything divide our lives, since we love each other? Oh, my darling, you spoke as if there were some real obstacle to our marriage! Your father would not object after a time, surely?” “No, no; I did not mean that,” she whispered. “But Dick and I have been very much troubled lately. We both think that —that —there is some family secret which we have never been told—something that it is necessary to keep hidden. If there is then, Neville, that would separate us.” “It should not, dearest,” he said, holding her still closer. “Yes—l would never marry you then!” she murmured; and there was a quiet determination in her voice which alarmed him. "Mabel, my darling, you frighten me!” he said. “No family secret shall separate us.” It was not a well-chosen moment for two lovers to whisper confidences, for suddenly a light played across their sequestered path, the whole grounds were illuminated with colored rays, and a gay group at a little distance discerned the pair. Lard Wynmore had only time to whisper, “I shall be with you early to-morrow, darling,” when they drew near. There was no opportunity for more tender speeches; Lord Wynmore’s attention was claimed by half a dozen people. “Lady Efflngton begged us to find you,” said one. “The duchess is going,” remarked another. W’ith great reluctance the young fellow obeyed the call. He hastened to consign Mab to her uncle’s care, saying, as he did so: “Let me find you for a moment presently, Mr. Charlford. I will put the duchess into her carriage and return immediately.” Mr. Charlford uttered a very gracious reply. Exultation filled his heart as he leaned back in the carriage which was conveying him and his niece and nephew from the Manor. The great catch of the season, Viscount Wynmore, had been taken in the net of a mere schoolgirl, who had not even aimed at conquest, who had not yet been introduced into society. CHAPTER XI. The day had come when Mr. Richard Charlford was to return. Everybody at the Court was in a state of unusual excitement —even Caroline seemed to be partially roused from her indifference. The news of the week had startled servants, friends and neighbors—Mr. Charlford was expected home immediately, and his young daughter Mabel was engaged to be married to Viscount Wynmore. There was no need to announce the engagement, for it was done by rumor in an incredibly short time, so that long before Mabel’s father actually arrived everyone, from highest to lowest, was whispering that “it would be a splendid match.” And yet Mabel had refused to allow the betrothal ring to be placed on her finger until she had seen her father and received an explanation of the hidden mystery. But he would soon be here now. The carriage, with Uncle John, had driven to the station to meet him. Dick had offered to go, too, but Uncle John had negatived it. They went out. The carriage was quite near now, and Mr. Charlford could be distinguished waving his handkerchief in token of greeting. “I never remember him doing that before,” said Dick aside to Mab. Mab clasped one of her father’s hands and shivered. How was it that she always felt the same strange unnatural repugnance to meet her father after any of his absences? Nor did Dick and Caroline attempt to disguise from themselves that they dreaded this homecoming of their father’s. All the same, they must greet him with some show of affection, and hide their repugnance as best they might. The carriage drew up. Mr. Charlford jumped out, and at once went up to his youngest daughter, bent down and kissed her forehead. “Uncle John’s telegram brought me great news,” he said, smiling. “My darling Mabel, let me wish you all manner of happiness! Lord Wynmore will see me to-morrow, but of course it is virtually settled now. You are a very fortunate girl, my dear, and we shall all be very proud of you.” “Thank you, father,” she replied, almost inaudibly, though she tried to assume a resolute air; “but I do not know yet if I may accept such happiness.” “Not accept it!” exclaimed her father, with a smile. “Oh, you mean that you are too young just at present! True—it will be quite time enough to marry when you are eighteen; and indeed I should not let you think of it before.” “I did not mean that, father,” she murmured, repressing a shudder; but he had turned aside to say “How do you do?” in a more formal fashion to his son and to his eldest daughter; and soon, owing to Caroline’s talent for keeping up some sort of conversation, which she could always do on necessity, and also to Dick’s forcing himself to ask his father questions about his journey and about Frankfort, Mabel had time partially to recover herself. Happily for her, the bell shortly afterward rang for dinner, and she escaped to her own room. The tedious evening at length wore away, and Mab found herself exchanging the usual good-night with her father. Hurriedly nerving herself, she added, tremulously— “ Father, you will let me speak to you early to-morrow, won’t you—Dick and me?” “Certainly, my dear,” he answered, a little stiffly—“certainly; but what has Dick to do with it?” “Almost as much as I," she replied, with difficulty restraining her tears. “Well, Ido not understand it, I confess, my dear; but of course Dick may say anything he pleases and hear anything we say. So good-night, and pleasant dreams of the Manor!” “Oh, father, do not talk of that yet!” she cried, as if struck with some sudden fear. Mr. John Charlford, seemingly engrossed with a book at the other end of the room, pretended not to hear this, while

Caroline had retired a few minutes before. “I told you he would be completely altered toward you, Mab,” whispered Dick, as he and she went upstairs together. “He is almost civil to me!” “Ah, Dick,” faltered Mab, allowing her tears to fall, “I feel as if I should never marry Neville!” “Don’t say that!” rejoined her brother, quickly; and in the very haste of his reply she saw that he had fears which he could not lightly put aside. It was a fair summer night, with sweet odors in the air and a delightful temperature. Mab passed the hours, mostly waking, by her window; the silence and the aspect of the night soothed her. But soon the morning glory irradiated the earth; a new day had begun, and with it Mab’s anxieties returned with a force which was overwhelming, for that day would decide whether she dared wed Neville or not. “Whatever I suffer, I will not drag him into it. If there is disgrace, I will bear it alone,” she thought, as she went into the breakfast room. Her father was already there, reading his letters, but he looked up, smiling, as she entered,"to say: “Well, Mabel, I have heard from Lord Wynmore. He will join us at luncheon; it seems you laid your commands upon him not to arrive in the day.” “Yes, father,” she answered, gravely; “I do not want to see him again until—until I have talked with you.” “You are a good girl—that is just as well,” he rejoined, lightly. “Come —eat something—brace yourself for the coming ordeal. What will Lord Wynmore say if he sees you looking so woe-begone?” “Neville must not expect to see me quite happy,” she faltered, blushing. “Neville? Oh, ah, he will not be Lord Wynmore to any of us any more, I suppose, but Neville Wynmore! Fortunate Mabel! The whole county will envy you. Here, I must insist on your eating this morsel of fish, and on your trying to be more cheerful. No doubt your change of prospects is a little overwhelming; but, believe me, you have no cause to shrink from the sunny path stretching out before you.” At that moment Uncle John, followed by Caroline and Dick, came in.

CHAPTER XII. Directly the meal was over Mr. Charlford rose briskly, and, turning to his younger daughter, said, with a smile: “Now, Mab! Dick, you are to come, too, I believe!” —and he led the way to the library, which was empty. “Now then, what is it, my dear? Sit down in that comfortable chair, and tell me as briefly as you can, for I perceive that it is something which annoys or pains you.” With a sinking heart Mab began to speak, but Dick stopped her. “Let me explain, Mab; you can listen. Father, the fact of the matter is this —and circumstances compelled us to own the truth to Uncle John —a night or two after you started for Frankfort, Mab went down to the boat house to bring in a box of flies belonging to my uncle. It was late —past ten o’clock—and when Mabel heard voices in the boat house she was alarmed, and crouched out of sight. Oh, father, need Igo on? She saw you there with a man who spoke to you, calling you by another name, addressing you as ‘Filton.’ Why was it, father? For you were in disguise; and you crept away as if fearing lest any one should see you. Is there any disgrace connected with our family ? That is what Mabel wishes to know; for, if so, she would die rather than marry Neville Wynmore, much as she loves him. That is what we want you to explain, father. Perhaps what happened took place long ago, and you had nothing to do with it Let us help you—trust to us, tell us the truth, and, if it is anything which had better not come before the worid, you shall see we can be silent. But don’t hide it from us, for Mabel cannot allow her engagement to be announced until she is assured that she may accept Neville Wynmore’s hand without fear. We have not spoken of this to Caroline, so you see you may have confidence in us, father.” Mr. Charlford had been silent all this time, regarding Dick as if with the utmost amazement; now he exclaimed, in a tone of dazed wonder: * “My dear children, forgive my bewilderment! Really it is excusable in the circumstances! What have you two been running your heads against? I was near Frankfort at the time you name; I know no stranger who would dare to speak to me in the way you mention, nor have I any reason for acting in the extraordinary fashion you describe. The likeness to myself which struck you in this stranger exists either in your own imagination, heightened as it was by fear, or there is another possible explanation of it. These men were probably bent on no good object. They were prowling about your uncle’s premises—that is pretty clear. Well, they wished to do so with security, and one of them personated me. They may have been lurking about to steal the young pheasants or the poultry, and they hoped doubtless to walk about unquestioned by the gamekeepers through one of them being got up to look like myself. That is the only explanation of the affair that I can give you—and I am as anxious to obtain one as you yourselves can be. But even you admit that this man was addressed by the other as ‘Filton,’ or some such name; that shows that his companion used the fellow’s real name, not dreaming that any one was within hearing.” “But, father,” cried Mabel, breaking silence, “I heard you speak? Could I mistake y.qur.yoice? And, besides, I overheard that other man address you as ’Charlford’ also. And then you asked if he was not mad to use that name, and he laughed—laughed horribly! Then you came out of the boat house and slunk away!” “Father, you have not heard all!" said Dick, coming forward. “Mabel found a box, which on opening was found to be full of letters —apparently in your hand-writing-written years and years ago, all signed ‘Filton,’ all written from abroad; and allusion to us, each by name, is made in one of them. The dates of our birth, the date of my mother’s marriage, and her Christian names are written in detail, with a line underneath to the effect that ’there must be no mistake.* What does it mean?” “You make me gasp for breath, Dick!” said Mr. Charlford, as if overcome by amazement “May I see the letters? I assure you I know nothing about them. The man Filton does, no doubt; but then he and I are two widely different persons. However, perhaps you will favor me with a sight of the documents.” ' “Certainly, father! I wish you to examine them,” returned Dick gravely. “I feel confident the resemblance to my handwriting has no more foundation than my identity with the man Filton,” said

Mr. Charlford, severely. “Well, is there any other accusation you have to bring against me?” “There is something else to tell you of, father!” exclaimed Mabel. “Look at this paper which Dick" picked up in the boat!” —and she held out toward him the small, square piece of paper on which were written the four names “Branley,” “Joyne,” “Froyle,” “Bushel,” with the mysterious line beneath—“ Revenge, if not success.” Mr. Charlford examined it carefully with a very grave face. “Upon my word, there must be a nice gang of fellows prowling about!” he remarked. “I shudder to think of the danger you were exposed to, Mabel! Do yon seriously believe''that I, a wealthy man and a person of some position, could assist the schemes of a set of Fenians or housebreakers?” “No, father —not that!” cried Mabel and Dick together. “Then what can I have to do with them? If my word is not sufficient I am ready to make oath before you, now and here, that I have not the remotest knowledge of the men named on this paper. In fact, I am altogether ignorant of its meaning. De you or do you not believe me?” There was such a ring of truth in what he now averred that both Mabel and Rick assured their father that they were convinced on that point. Indeed, Dick was beginning to give way on the other point, too. He was inclined to think that Mab had been thoroughly frightened and had imagined the resemblance which had made them both so miserable. (To be continued.)