Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 6, Number 31, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 29 January 1876 — Page 2

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1

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TERRE HAUTE, JAN. 29, 1876.

J)OKPT TAKE IT TO HEART.

BY GBOW.IANA C. CUAttK.

Tb» re's inany a trouble Would break like a bubble.

And Into the waters »f I/Ft he depart, Did not wu rehearne It, And tenderly nuroeU, And give It a prominent place In the uenrt.

There'* many a sorrow Would vanish to-morrow!

Were we not unwilling to furnish the wings So sadly intruding And quietly brooding. It hatches out all norf* of horiible things.

JIow welcome the seeming Of looks that are Ixsatitliig,

Whether one's wealthy or whether one jjoor. Eyes bright an a lerry,

Cheeks ml a* a cherry,

The groan and the curse and the heartache can cure. Resolved to be merry

All worry to ferry

Across the famea waters that bid us forget, And no longer twirful. But happy and cheerful, Wc feel life has much tlist worth living for yet.

The Mystery at Blackwood Grange.

B* MltS. MAY AGNES FLEMING Author of "A Wonderiul Woman," "A Mad yf

Marriage," Ac., Ac.

CHAPTER I.

KEEPING TKYST.

I pause an instant on the threshold of this story. You will cull it perhaps, incredible, impossible. Be it so—but it is true. Twenty years ago its principal incidents were wonderingly chronicled in every paper the length and breadth of the land. Incredible it sounds—true it is. It is but one moro proof of the veracity of that hackneyed axiom— truth is stranger than fiction."

A raw and gusty March day was closing in a rawer and

gustier

There was but one. A tall oung man, with a light overcoat thrown across his arm sprang off, and walked into the station. "All aboard," shouted the conductor and with a demoniac shriek the train plunged forward, and was lost in the blackening evening.

The hulf-dozen stragglers turned their twelve eyes upon the tall young man with the overcoat—a stranger to them— a stranger in Hollisville. A handsome and gentlemanly fellow, with dark, bright eyes, a black moustache, and a magnificont ring blazing on his ungloved left hand. It flashed like a great eye of fire as he stood under one of tho gas jets and lit a cigar.

Nasty night, sir," suggested the sta tion-master, rather impressed by this superb stranger: "we'll have it hot and heavy before morning."

The stranger nodded carelessly, blew a fragrant cloud of smoke in tho face of tho nearest straggler, walked to the door, and looked long and earnestly 'j»rclown tho road. The dull little village (dull at its best and brightest) was unspeakably forlorn and forsaken this bleak March evening. Not even astray dog wandered through its one long, straggling street everybody was shut up behind thoso lighted windows, in square, whito, wooden dwellings, with the inevitable green blinds—houses as much alike as peas in a pod.

The stranger shrugged his shoulders significantly. 14

A gay and festive place, this Hollisville of yours, my friend. Existence dragged out hero must be a priceless boon. There's an hotel, I suppose?" "Five of 'oro," replied the stationmaster, triumphantly "tho Hollisville House, tho Farmers1 House, the United States, the—" "That will do. Which Is the best?"

Wall, the Hollisvllle's the dearest and the nearest—and a pretty fair hotel, I reckon. Thero It stands, sir, with them air benches In front of it." "Thanks I'll try it. Whereabouts does Mise Hardenbrook live?"

Miss Hardenbrook Will, you can't •ee Miss Hardenbrook's from here it's pretty nigh 'totber end of the village. Be you a friend of Miss Hardenbrook's, stranger with a curious stare.

The young man laughed, a peculiar short laugh, as he Hung away his cigar, an«t invested himself in his overcoat.

I dont know about that. If I'm not, however, it's Miss Hardenbrook's ftuilt I'm not at all proud. Good-eve-ning to you."

He strode away the stragglers watched him out of sight. Not prowl, ain't vow?" said the sta-tion-master "maybe not, but you're conskleable cheeky. What's he

est*

Mfce Hardenbrook, I wonder? She never ha* no visitors." One of ber handsome niece's beaux, I calk'late «ogMsted one.

Mies Hardenbrook's very poorly today," another temarked. "She ain't expected to live the week out. Miss Isabel will drop into good thing when 3 the old girl goee off th« hooks. She'll be the richest and bandeomest gal In

And thie yeuaff obap, with the black moostaohe and diamond rin*, eomes down beforehand to make sure of his Mine. A

fortune hauler, or a ganger,

most Hbe*y. They «jj Jo** ife black monetae bee, diamond rings, ttt| kat end )oCe of

cheek."

TiTyvu* Ma, thus unflatleringly

iEsftrSS

ud ate it wMh an appstits. Hkwrtdi pointed to sU*Moe«e ft wea crake dark pew-moonless and iLJIwTweelr, hitler night. piMMSt (Me," the jwm* men muttmd '"en Mv sfcjr atoeve, an Inky Shbdo?.' venture out in Okie Marc* tornado but, like a true kaiffci.1 menta, and beet ike place el

TJX .£?£

and the lighted were so «b•cured by tossing treee. that t4t»ey illuminated hia WU'e. The park werWange tofim, loe but he plunjred «asdetfi£ /OTirt nrj

irort to

My ftither he hwi locked the door, "i My mother keeps the key But neither belts nor bare een part

My own true love and me.

11!

Isabol."

twilight. One

lurid barof blood-red streaked the black sky where the sun had set wrathful]y all else was murky, troubled, darkness. A wailing wind moaned through the gaunt trees, and sent the March dust whirling in blinding clouds before it. In the ominous sky, in the groaning blast, fcbc coming storm lieraled its approneh

The ive P. M. train from Boston came thundering into the dull, little station of Hollisville. The lamps flared in the numberless draughts, and the little waystation looked unutterably dismal and desolate in the eerie gloaming. Half a dozen stragglers lounged about, hands deep in their pockcts, hats drawn far over their eyes, waiting to see the passengers alight.

1 1 fhat was character!s- But the next Instant be laughed again HCii\nh«^^humminI[Uefi^ of and kissed the quiveriog Hps. tie of the man, humming a My dear little tragedy-ou an old ballad.

an' otemicSon! ^Mim" Hwd^b^k Wildkir'7teiutiftil wife, would lock the door and keep the key, too if she dreamed George Wildalr was within a fcore of miles of this delectahin hannv village. I hope Issle will keen trvst one dw^sn't mind breaking ono^s shins for the girl of one's heart but if the girl doesn't oome to be the spot, I think.'

He was out on the vergo of a bleak niarsh. just discemable, and no more. Pollard willows waved and cracked, and low clumps of furze-bushes dotted it— black spectres, this bad March »l?ht. "This is the sj»ft. and this is the houT"^Mr George

couldn't

himiir"indimore desolate spot, and When I do I pray that I .nay die!" a more dismal hour, my adored Isabel

have chosen, if sho had tried

for a lifetime. May the gods ttiat spect

ally watch over fools and lovers send her soon, or I will be found here tomorrow morning, frozen as stiff as I^ots

W

hard

He started forward, Ins arms outstretched.

An hvSerical cry of delight, and the outstretched arms were empty no longer. Dear G«*rge—dearest CJeorge, how good it is to see you again! she•cried, in tho samo hysterical ,^h

little, ill-used darling! So you are enduring daily martyrdom for my sake. Time doesn't improve Miss Hardenbrook's temper, I suppose but as it doesen't improve her health, either, there is reason to hope your martyrdom will soon end. How is she?

Verv,

very

The girl looked up at him earnestly. But in the darkness tho expression his face wore could not be seen. «you would not love mo less, Georce?"

You foolish child! As if any loss in this lower world could make nie do that."

Then why would its loss bo terrible I should like to be rich, George to live luxuriously, to dress superbly, to have all that is beautiful and bright in life around mo but I could give all up and go forth to beggary with you, my beloved, without one pang. Nothing in this wide eartli could be terrible to me, but the loss of yonr love, George."

Mr. Wildair laughed and kissed her. But the laugh sounded cynical, and the kiss was not at all tho rapturous proceeding it might have been.

A very pretty speech, my dear, and a very llattering one. But thero is a homolv old adage, which is as true as truth itself to my mind, 'When poverty comes in at the door, love flies ont of the window.' The going forth to beggary sounds nice and sentimental in theory but when it came to practice, I should quicty stoat a razor and cut my throat. Tho story of King Cophetua and the Beggar Maid, as told by MrTennyson, is a very charming story, indeed and if I were a King Cophetua, and Miss Ilnrdonbrook disinherited you, I should take my dark-eyed begger maid, and make her my queen ns promptly and romantically as he did. But, you see, being only a briefless barrister, just able to earn the bread and salt of daily life, and nothing more, begger maids are not practicable. So, my pretty Issie, if we are to be blest for life Before our hair turns gray, you mu become heiress of Miss Hardenbrook's thousands." "Then it is Miss Ilardenbrook's.for tune you marry, not Isabel Vance?"

She spoko in a cold, constrained voice,

Wildair qntof hand, I should have to

thousand dollars from Olympus with her. Don't be silly, Isabel, and don't be sentimental Miss Hardenbrook will dio shortly, and if she wasn't an unconscionable old spider she would have died long ago and when your six months' mourning has expired, we'll be married, and live happy forever after."

1

He took her In his arms again, and

kissed

tho fece that, even in the gloom, was dimly beautiful. But his words chilled her, and his earel«ss caresses could not satisfy her troubled heart.

But, George. Oh, stop! let us look the worst In the face. 8be may disinherit me—who knows She is as capricious as the wind she has made half a dozen different wills already: and the will that loaves all to me Is not yet signed. It may never be, George—end then T"

And then," said Mr. George Wildair, In a herd, resolute voice, "we will have crow's feet under owr eyes, and our heads will be beantlfelly slivered by the frosts of lime before our honeymoon

k^No"" cried the girl, as If with a sodden Inspiration, "I know better than thdu When I loee my fortune, I lose yoaMfcou will go look lor another heiress yO« will new grow grey waiting for me. 'And

And t*ar' the yonng nan seld, with alight Worn., "ftobh your prediction, my prettyayhil." lie would uavdly have laughed so Mtfdly bad be seen bow her face altered in the dark«ien» Her eyes biased up, her hands denetd, her teeth, shut *nvHlsively together.

Don't ash me! Don't ask me, George 1 I grow afraid of myeelf when I think of It. Belter for you you had never been born than to tamper with whit is b»rel"

She stmck h*r breast heavily MM she spoke, and emnrtbing In h*r tfcamrHr voice went with a thrill to hie heart.

My deer little tragedy-oueen! Yon vow vengeance like the heroine of

VUW YDIIJJWillW "V

high-pressure novel. We wont suppose suoh horrid things, weH look on the

,rue rove bright side. Isabel Vance will be Doro«t in he stumbled over thy Hardenbrook's heiress, and George

wild air's beau ti fit 1 wife. Well, where are you going?"

It is striking sevon—hear it! Miss Hardenbrook may miss me. and send Ellen Rossiter in" search. If she does, all Is lost. Oh, George! George!" with

mi? uDm v, a sudden passionate cry, a sudden pasThls ought sionate clasping him in her arms, it 1 lose vou I shall die! bt meiro-niy fortune is at stake. cannot afford to lose my fortune now—God help me!

Something in her voice, in her clinging clasp, touched his frivolous heart— and it was a frivolous heart to the core.

My dear little girl! I were the bas

Wildair muttered to est villain on earth to prove false to you

A 1

Amen!"

He shuddered as the ominous word passed her lips he openod his arms and lc

et her go. When shall I see you again "Not until all is over,"

1 Bogton t0

ill. and liable to die at

any moment. Ellen Rossiter hardly loaves her ni^ht or day." "Ellen Rwssiter is the toad-eating, tuft-hunting old maid cousin you told me of, who hopos to supplant you in Miss

Hardenbrook's will?

And who will

supplant

me, George,"

.George," surely as you are

girl said, solemly, "as Aunt H.irdenbrook finds out you

the

here, anil that we have met." But she must not find it out, Mr. Wildair said, in rather a startled tone "and she must not know we have met. It would be a terrible thing for us, Isabel, if you lost yonr aunt's fortune."

she

replied,

steadilv. "I will risk again the for-

Austen sounded on the road—baked tune you prize so highly, George, as

as .Pron with black f.ost-a quick, have risked it this night. You will go hard as iron wuu

iigbt, woman's step. An instant later, and a slender female figure stood belore him, dimly outlined against tho gloomy night sky.

.,

the

last two months have seemed like eternity, never to see you, never to hear from vou And Miss Hardenbrook has been .so cross, and *o susmcious and Ellen Rossiter has watched me as a cat watches a mouse. Oh!" clinging to him with something between a laugh and a sob, "one may buy even gold too dear,

dear littlo Issie! My precious

norr0w

morning."

But I may write to you, at least And you will answer?" "No my aunt's spv, Ellen Rossiter, would find it out anil betray ns. I am afraid of that woman. 1 will neither see you, nor hear from you, until I go to you tho mistress of Dorothy Hardenbrook's thousands. I will lay them at your feet, George, whore my heart has been for many a day. If I win, all is yours if I lose—"

Her voice died away. George Wildair, with a chill of ominous dread, broke the pause that followed. "You will not lose—you will be mj queen as you are my darling. Good-by, my own love, until we meet again. '•Good-by," she said, solemnly, "Good by, my love, mv darling and God bless 3'ou! Who knows whether I will no able to say that when we meet again

She fluttered away with the last strange words on her lips—-fluttered away, and tho black night swallowed her up. And Mr. George Wildair turned very slowly, and made the best of his way back to the hotel, with a very disagreeable prescience of impending evil troubling his usually serene mind.

It's an uncommon bad-looking pieco of business, George, my boy the young lawyer soliloquized. "If the old _cirl turns up trump and does the right thing by Issie, all will go on well, and Georgo'Wildair will iiavo a wife and a fortune to bo proud of. But if she doesn't—oh! it's an ugly hitch, and I can't perform impossiWlties and marry Miss Vance. And yet she is just the sort, is Isabel Vance, to go and kill her self, or somebody else—perhaps both She's tremendously in love with me, poor little girl and it's flattering, but not at all pleasant."

Before Mr. Wildair had come to the end of his soliloquy, and lit a consolatory segar, there emerged a figure from behind a clump of bushes, not two yards off the spot whore the lovers had held their interview. It was a woman. She had heard and seen all, and her sharp, sallow face was flushed with triumph. "At last!" she Raid to herself, under her breath, "at last, my lady, your hour "has come! You dread Ellen Rossiter, do you? Ah! if you only knew how much reason you have to dread her, mv proud and handsome young heiress! We will see what Miss Hardenbrook will say to all this we will see whether that unsigned will will ever be signed we will see what will happen when Mr Wildair jilts his penniless lad v-love."

She hurried away. And the sobbing wind, rising and falling, and the black spectral trees had the ghostly spot to themselves where the lovers keptlryst.

CHAPTER II.

ALL FOR IjOVE, AND THE WORLD WBLL LOST."

The night-lamp burned low in the sick-room, and the shadows crouched like evil things in the dusky corners. A largo room, "curtained, and close, and warm a wood fire burning dimly on tho hearth medicine bottles and glasses strewing the table the old-fash-ioned four-post bedstead standing in the contre of the floor, and old Dorothy Hardenbrook lying upon it, never to leavo it but for her coflln.

The sick woman was all alone, and wide awake. Tho glittering eyes looked out of a withored, wasted, wrinkled

wi face* like glowing coals her skinny 3 to be blest for j,an(j8 clutched a note, containing a few gray, you must

ljneg writton

lTiirnflnnrrmk'H iU./.A Over and over again, with a fierce and wrathful glance, tho sick woman had read these lines:

She spoko in a cold, consirainea voice, v'ourTick dragon*" and her drawing herself free from his encircling J^Xnt Ceffirus, the slip, give it to

ly, "you know better than that. I BAA vou and see you not a verv sentimenta young man and dyj? fhe 'vindictive^ I tell you tho plain truth. I love dearly,I would mary you without a si ild but I can't and

TOU

stiver

to-morrow, if I cou._ if the Venus Celestis were to come alivo on earth, and offer to become Mrs.

vop^n^at1aJit^^sSx6 ?am dying to see you, and see you I must, despite all the vindictive, dying old maids in Christendom.

Dovotedly, G. W."

The glare In the glittering old eyes, that devoured this oold blooded note,

was something

thank theradiant goddess, and respect- If she does! if she does, she pantfullv decline, unless she brought several ed aloud. "The heartless, ungrateful

horrible to see.

UL L.. A MTAAMLIU N TTV.FLNHNO1 NNN.

huzzv! A miserable play-acting pauper, that I took from the streets and the stage, and fed, and clothed,and cherished 1 And this is my reward. She knows 1 hate this George Wildair, and all bis race—faithless and false, and corrupt to the core of their bla.^k, bad hearts, one and all. She knows it and if she meets him to night—If she meets him—"

She stopped, trembling with suppresed rage from bead to foot. The room and the house were very, very still. Outside, the wind sobbed and shuddered, and the bare, wintry trees rattlod like dead bones inside, the loud tickling of a clock, the monotonous fall of lurid cinders, tho sleepy pnrring of a big Maltese cat, made a dull, drowsy chorus of their own.

The elock s'ruck eight. As its last beat died away, the chamber door opened, and Ellen Rossiter walked into the room.

Miss Hardenbrook raised herself on ber elbow by a supreme effort, and looked with wild, eager eyes Into the iaoe of ber spy. She was a little, wiry body, this Ellen Rossiter female terrier, with lin thin mm knife blades, and pale, steel-blue eyes—like the sick woman herself, a soured, and sullen, and disappointed old maid. "Wellf" Miss Hardenbrook aaked, with a fleroo clutch at ber bedclothes. "Dont stand staring at me there, EUen Rnssdter, like a fxtl, but speak out! Was the note free—was It from him Was she there?"

Abe made the reply with oold deliberation, removing ber things and folding them up.

I wae at the place before her I knew it well, she often met blm there before. I hid behind the bnebea, and waited. He came flvel. singing and talking to rtftelf, like the Idiot that he is. She did itkeep him waiting Jo»z she came

hi no •all in arms, kiseing

•r. and pftftiffed Into hir him, and ceiling him her

love and her darting, in a manner that was perfectly sickening end diagnatlng. I saw it all, and I heard every word they said." $

What did they say Ellen Rossiter compressed he* thin lips until ber mouth was only a pale streak across her face.

You had better not ask me—you won't like It." "Tell me, I command you!" Miss Hardenbrook passionately cried. "Tell me, for

I

will know tell me, for

I

have

a right to know!" •'Very well." She sat down by the bedside, her hands folded in her lap, her steel-bino eves looking stolidlv into the burning black eves of the sick woman and then, word for word, with diabolical precision, repeated the conversation of the lovers.

Dorothy Hardenbrook covered her face with both hands with a convulsive sob.

And I loved this girl," she cried. "Oh! my God better than I ever loved Thee!"

Not moro than she loves your money. She will wait six months after you are dead and then Mr. Wildair will take possession of it and her, and scatter it to the four winds of heaven." "Never!"' The hands dropped, and the eyes blazed. "Never, Ellen Ilossiter never, never! Thank God, it is not too late yet! Give me that box."

She took a key from under her pillow. Ellen handed her a square, iron casket, which she knew contained two unsigned wills. Miss Hardenbrook opened the box^took out one of the wills, read it slowly through, and tore it into

atG,T1S'perish

W.J

So the hopes of George W ildair and Isabel Vance"! So are ingratitude and falsehood punished! Send for Mr. Benson, and call Susan."

Mr. Benson was her lawyer, Susan was the cook. Ellen Rossiter disap peared, and returned in half an hour with both. Tho second will was spread out before Miss Hardenbrook her face had grown hard and rigid as iron. 1 am going to sign my will, Mr. Benson," she said "the other I have destroyed. I have sent for you two to witness the proceeding."

She took a pen, and signed the will with a firm, unfaltering hand. The other two affixed their signatures. Then, with the same rigid composure, she locked up the document, and handed the key to the lawyer. "You will keep this, my friend. The dav 1 am buried, yon will read this testimony aloud, in this room, to those who attend my funeral. Now leave me —I am tired, and wish to sleep."

She turned away her face to the wall. The lawyer and Susan crept away on tiptoe. Ellen Rossitor lingered an instant. with an anxious look on her face.

The doctor said she was liable to die at any moment that any excitement would be fatal—and surely she has had exoitement to-night."

Miss Rossiter did not retire she descended to the parlor, and paced up and down. Ten, eleven, twelve struck. How awfully still the house was in its midnight hush how awfully clamorous sounded the storm without! The wind had risen, and the rain fell—wind and rain wailed and sobbed, like Cries of mutual agony.

A fearful night!" the lone watcher said, with a shudder "and she ia afraid of night and tempest. I will go and see bow she sleeps. Susan

She shook and roused the sleepy cook —sho was afraid to enter that room alone. Together they ascended, together they entered. The lire had died out, the lamp burned with a dull, red glow. The air of the room struck cold upon them. The raging of the midnight tempest sounded appallingly loud up thero. On the bed the sick woman lay, as they had left her—she had never moved. "Sleeping still," the cook said, in a whisper.

Ellen Rossiter crossed the room and bent o«er her a second, and sho recoiled with aloud cry.

Yes, sleeping still but the everlasting sleep. Miss Hardenbrook lay before them stark and dead.

It was a very long procession that, wended its wavfrom the prim, white, wooden mansion, following Dorothy Hardenbrook to her last home.

A miserable March day tho rain falling ceaselessly tho wind sobbing the skv a leaden pall the earth black and 8ociden. A bad, bitter day and the fu-neral-train shivered 1n their wraps, and •lashed forlornly through the mire of je wretched country road.

spl the

in a big, masculine hand.

The dull afternoon was half over ore tho grave was closed, and the gloomy procession back in the prim, wooden mansion. Ghastlv looked the rooms, hung in the white trappings of the grave deadly was the chill and the silence that p.* rvaded it, in the dismal light the wet afternoon.

The staid parlor, never used save on stste occasions, was almost filled with curious expectant listeners. With a flush very foreign to her usual sallow complexion, hot in her face, with a glittering light rarelv seen in the dull, steelblue eves, Ellen Rossiter folded her hands 'to listen to tho reading of the will. The hour of her triumph bad oome—the hour for which she had watched, and waited, and played the spy. Sho, and not that tall, imperious young woman, who had queened -t so long, would be heiress to ©oroth Ha.-* denorook's thousands.

Miss Vance, looking very lianusomo and stately in trailing crape and sables, sat by the window, gating steadfastly out at the ceaseless rain. She was deathly white, and the hands, lying in her lap. were convulsively locked together. A sickening presentiment of what was to come filled heart and soul the flashing fire in Ellen Rossiter's triumphant eves the pitying glanced of Benson, the iawver, had gone thrilling with an awful fear \f her heart. She had staked all that life held of bliss, love, and hope, and bsppiness, on one throw of the dice, and she bad lost. She knew it as surelv sitting there, staring blankly out at the wretched rain, as she knew it an a

Mr. Benson slowly unlocked the box, drew forth the will, and began to read. Dead silenoed reigned. The document was brief and to the point. There was a legacy to Susan Turner, the oook, of one hundred dollars two hundred to Mr. Benson to buy a mourning ring and two hnndred to Ellen Rnesiter. in return for secret services faithfully ren-

There was shrill cry. Ellen Roailw rose, wildly excited, from her sent. There Is some awfol mistake! There muat be a mistake! Miss Hardeobrook never won Id insult me like thai! Mi. Benson you have read the viong name!"

I have dons nothing of the so»% Miss Rossiter—be good enough not Interrupt. The remainder or her property, landed and personal, amounting in aLLto one hupdred and eighty thousand aol lata, Miss Hardenbrook has bequeathed, abaolutely and without conditions, to"—a breathless pause—"to her third cousin, Miss Amy Hardenbrook Earle, of St Judo's, Maryland."

There was simultaneous exclamation from every one present* i- vsapirit of fage and de*psif from Ellen Koesiler,

and all eyes turned upon the stately figure by the window. Bnt Mies Vance sat like a stone, the faoe white and rigid, the dark eyes staring straight before her, with an awful, fixed, blind stare.

Mr. Benson folded up the will, relocked the box, and prepared to depart. The short, stormy March day was already darkening fast, and every one rose to follow bis example, and spread the astounding news through Hollisville. Isabel Vance disinherited, not even named in the will and an unknown young lady, in Maryland, left sole heiress of Miss Hrrdenbrook's wealth! Hollisville had not received so astounding a shock for ages before.

And tho figure by the window was left alono. No one had approached her no one had spoken to her there was that in her face that held them off. One by one they dropped silently away, friends who were sorry for her, enemies wl*o exulted over her. EUen Rossiter had rushed up to her own room, and was crying her spiteful, disappointed heart out in a passion of bitter, raging tears. But IsaWl Vance shed no tears, uttered no cry her dumb despair was far too deep for that. With the loss of wealth she had lost all—love, life. For George Wildair's sake she had risked the glory of the world for his sake she had lost, and he would be the very first to turn from her in her downfall.

The rainy twilight fell. Tho night wind, salt from the sea, rose and beat the rain clamorously against the glass. Isabel stood up, her face looking awfully corpse-like in the desolate gloaming, and with a steady step walked out of the room, and out of the house.

She went straight to the village—to the Hollisville House. Rain and wind tore at her, and buffeted her but she heeded them no more than if she had been made of wood or stone. The proprietor of tho hotel, standing in his own door

way,

looking out at the stormy

eveninsr, recoiled with a blank stare at sight of her, as he might at seeing an apparition* ,7 "Is Mr. Wildair in?"

1

'V

That voice, hollow and strange, was not the melodious voice of Isabel Vance. The man's face softened into a gaze of unspeakable pity.

Yes. Miss Vance this way, if you please."

A

He ushered her up stairs, and into the private parlor, sacred to Mr. George Wildair's learned leisure. "Miss Vance, sir," he said, and disappeared.

Mr. George Wildair, seated before tho window, his chair tipped back, bis boots on the sill, a segar in his mouth, and his eyes fixed moodily on the darkening prospect, got up with a spring. He flung away his segar, and came forward with a face that was anything but the radiant face of a lover.

You here, Isabel! This is an astonisher! You surely have not walked all the way in this pouring rain

She glanced down at her drenched garments, as if conscious, for the first time, of the wet.

I did not know—it does not matter! I wanted to see yon before you left." Who told you I was going to leave? Sit down, pray, whilst I light the ga*."

She waved her hand impatiently. "We need no light for what wo have to say. Thanks, I will not be seated. I onlv came to say good-by."

You need not have come th?ougb this pouring rain to-nigbt for that," Air. Wildair remarked, rather sulkily. "You did not suppose I was going to quit Hollisville without calling to see you, Isabel •'I did. You would not have come, George." "Thanks for your good opinion. Miss Vance. Think so by all means, if it suits you."

You never would have come, George." sho repeated, steadily. "It was Miss Hardenbrook's hoiress yoc: courted—and I am not that."

Confound the cantankerous old hag!" burst forth Mr. Wildair. furiously. "Why the deuce did she disinherit you,Isabel

Do you need to ask Bccause I met yon that night Who told her?"

Ellen Rossiter, I presume. Don't let us talk of that—it is too late now. I have lost all you cared for there is nothing left for us but to shako hands and part forever."

Not forever, I hope." But the voice in

which

ho said it was a very hesitating

one. -'Don't think me altonether heartless, Isabel. I wAnted Miss Hardenbrook's money, I don't deny but I loved you as well. I would marry you tomorrow, if I could but I can't. I am a poordovil, as you know, living from hand to mouth. I cannot afford the luxury of a penniless wife."

I know it." The voice had fallen to a dull caltn without one trace of emotion. "You cannot afford to marry me now, and you never can. You have deceived me from first to last. There is nothing left but to say farewell, and go our different ways through life."

The unnatural calm deceived him. He had expected tears, reproaches, hysteric?, *a stormv and passionate scene. His fac« flushed j" and he drew a long breath of relief.

I hive no wish to sav farewell forever, Isabel," he said, gently "but you have, and you know best. It would bo selfish In me, I dare say, to keep you bound by an engagement that cannot be fulfilled for half a lifetime. I love vou, but I will not be selfish. I release you, Isabel, though heaven knows how bitter it Is to say those words. I set you free, Isabel and when I hear you are married to a better and richer man, I will trv and rejoice for your sake. It is destiny, I suppose, but it is very hard."

He turned hastily away to the window, and. for the instant, the self-de-ceiver believed he felt what he said. The young girl stood regarding hira with a fixe*!, steady glance, reading all his falseness and baseness, et loving him despite it all. The friendly darkness bid from him the gleaming light in ber eyes, the unearthly expression of her faoe. He only heard that low, monotonous voice—and that deceived him.

And you, George," she said, after a little pause, "you will woo and wed another heirev, I suppose? This Miss Amy Earle for Instance. 8hels young and pretty, no doubt if not, what does It signify since she inherits Miss Hardenbrook's one hundred and eighty thoussnd dollars7 There will be a Mrs. George Wlldslr, will there not, before theyeareods?"

Mr. Wildair wheeled round from the window, wrapped in his dignity as in a mantle. ..

You might havo spared me the taunt, Mim Vanee. I am not altogether the mercenary wretch you lake me to be. But we will not recriminate—^ws wlu part friends." "Yes, we will part friends."

Her voice rose. 1bei-eyes »ul

she

held out ber band, and looked him steadfastly in the faoe. «rtll p"t friend*. Farewell,

George

Wildair. You have deceived mj

more cruelly than man ever decelved woman before. You have blighted my life, you have broken my_heart but, as TOO say. let us part friends. /Farewell, iienrpe—but not forever. We t^all meet oHcSMorcT* 8b* nwinrhi* Hand, dropped it tfbddenly, turned, and was gone like a Oaeb

-lost in the black, wet night and Mr. Wildair was left staring aghast. Devilish odd!" he muttered, at last, recovering from his stupor. "Has tho loss of her fortune, and the loss of her lover turned her brain? 'We shall meet onee more,-' shall we I hope not. Did she mean that as a threat, I wonder BvJove! I'll keep out of your way, Miss Vance, for the remainder of ray mortal span, if I can."

Through darkness, through falling rain, through driving wind, Isabel Vance hurried borne. "For the last time," she said, between her locked teeth. "My old life ends to-night, my new life dawns to-morrow. Isabel Vance is dead aad buried a fierce and pitiless avenger shall rise in her place. From this hour, let all who have wronged nie, boware

She reached the house, soaked to tho skin. She ascended to her own room, but not to change her saturated aarineuts Deliberately sbe set to work. She drew forth her trunks, collected her clothes and valuables, packed them rapidly, wrote her name and address on cards, and tacked them securely on. Then sho sat down by the table, dropped her head on her foklod arms, and lay there as though sho never cared to lift it again:

All night long she never moved. The rain beat and the wind blew but tho storm in her burning brain and bitter heart, raged more fiercely still. Morning came, and with the first pale glimmer of the now day she lifted her head, and showed a face so haggard and worn, eyes so wild and unearthly, that every trace of her bright beauty was gone.

Two hours later, Miss Rossiter, descending to breakfast, found Isabol dispatching her trunks to the station, and she, herself, traveling array, waiting to follow. The haggard face and hollow eyes, made Ellen Rossiter recoil with a cry of dismay. "Going!" she exclaimed, "so soon!" "The sooner the better. Good-by, Miss Rossiter! If ever it is in my pow-er-to repay the many good turns yon liavo done me, believe me, I shall repay tbem with interest."

She turned and walked out of the house Ellen Rossitcrr looked after her with a shudder. "And il ever the arch-demon himself looked out of two human eyes." said Miss Rossiter, in a violent tremor, "ho looked out of Isabel Vance's just now. That girl has some awful decM in her mind, or I'm no judge of faces." |T° BK CONTINUED.] "a

GOLDEN WORDS,

She that is loved is safe. Habit is the deepest law of huuian nature. *.

A foe toGod was never a true friend to man. Vows made in storms are forgollon in calms.

When not promptod by vanil v, we say* little. The trial is not fair where allV-trtion is the judge.

Power hath not one-luilf the might of gentleness. A handful of good life is worth a bushel of learning.

True love is grounded on esteem.'— [Buckingham. Good manners area part of good morality.— [Whaley.

If fun is good, truth is better, unci lovo best of all.—[Thackeray. Better make penitents by gentleness than hypocrites by severity.

Hate makes ns vehement partisans, but love still more so.—[Goethe. He who can at all times sacrifice pleasure to duty appreachcs sublimity.

Lovo, one time, layetli burdens: another tiinogiveth wings.- [Sir P. Sidney.

Men show their character in nothing more than by. what they think laughable.—[Goethe. "A prudent man," says witty Frenchman, "is like a pin liis head prevents his going too far."

An indiscreet person is like an unsealed letter, which one may read, but which is seldom worth reading.^

The measure of civilization in'a people lies in its just appreciation of the wrongfulness of war.—[Helps.

There is no wild beast moro to be dreaded than a communicative man having nothing to communicate.

We ought not to judge meti's merits ly their qualifications, but by the use they make of them.—[Charron.

Rigor pushed too far is sure to miss its aim, however good, as the bow snaps that is bent toostifil}'.—[Schiller.

If you do when you are alono what you would not do in the presence of acquaintances, you respect them moro than you do yourself.

Some folks don't seem to have any faculty to got ahead except by banging to the coat-tails of others. This i.iay bo honest, but it is poor.

Some people carry their hearts in theif heads very many carry their heads in their hearts. Tho difficulty is to keep them apart, and yet bath actively working together.—[Augustus Wm. Hare.

He who denies all freedom of will to a man, neads no other argument than a whip or a cudgel to confute him, for surely the smart would quickly make him find liberty enough to run away from it.

Happiness depends on the prudent constitution of the habits and ft is tho business of religion not so much to extinguish our desires as to regulate and direct tbem to valuable and well chosen objects.—[ Palev.

Sunday schools are excellent in thoir appointed place and work. But they must not be looked upon as a kind or spiritual laundry where children's morals may be sent for a weekly wash. Paternal responsibility cannot be thus lightly shifted.—[Dr. Vincent.

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