Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 7, Number 42, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 14 April 1877 — Page 6

S

THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR TIIE PEOPLE.

The Two Orphans.

,ji kj BY H. ARTHUR GRATTANV CHAPTER XVIL S

LOST!

An hour later, on the same evening, George Barnard sat tn Mr. Phipps' surgery, enjoying a short Interval of repose.

He had been worke 1 very hard for bo rue few days for influenza had appeared in tho village, and among ether victims bad selected poor Mr. Phipps, who was now recovering from a severe attack.

Bat the. worst was over, and George, •wrapped in a very old, and, consequently, comfortable coat, was luxuriating in asmoke, and the additional luxury of a number of the Lancet.

An impatient rapping at the door made him toss the hook on the table and the cigar into tbe fir ace. "'What's up now?" ne muttered, as he leisurely raised himself to answer the summons. "George Barnard, there's a night ride and no bed for you, I'll lay a •wager! If we go on at this rate the governor will have to keep two of ue!"

He li/ted the latch, and then his grumbling tone took another note. '•Mis- Vaughan! Is it possible?"

From the hour that he had accidentally learned her love, and witnessed its defeat, Estella had sedulously shunned this young man.

To her proud spirit the knowledge that he,or, indeed, that any one, had penetrated her secret, was galling in the extreme. To believe that she must be the objectof his pity, or, perhaps, contempt, was one of the greatest mortifications she had to endure.

But by no word or look had George seemed to perceive this. It they met by the bed of Mrs. Seddon's child, he Tgave her his usually frank, careless, greeting, and never seemed to notice the quivering lip, the downcast eyes, and flushing cheek, with which she stole away.

Although George had had sufficient tact to leave it to time for the restoration of a friendly footing, he was not indifferent to the eatrangem nt which had sprung up and it was not without a throb of something like pleasure that he now beheld her.

Something had happened to distress her_of that his first glance convinced him and it was graying to see that now her trust in bis ready and faithful services had returned.

He gently led her in, put her in a chair, and sat down beside her. She tried t« be very still to tell him what had occurred, and what had been unsuccessfully tried, with directness but when she came to Mr. Barnard's surmise respecting the fate of her missing sister, it was with emotion that almost startled him, accustomed though he was to witness so many phases of human agony. "Banish that thought, Estella," he said directly. "Amy would not do such a thing. She has too much kindly thought for others. A selfish person may strive to throw off the burden of life but sueh gentle, affectionate natures as Amy's patiently endure it." "Oh, George don't say this merely to reassure me! Don't unless you feel very,

Tery

certain!

If

—I am

But

it is so—it Amy ia dead

a murderess—the murderess of

my only sister!" "Estella, you must be calmer," said George Barnard, with a steady impressiveness that had instant effect. "I do not believe there is the slightest foundation for my father's ridiculous speech, and I shall do my best to ascertain where Amy is, and for what purpose she has left the Hall." "I must go with you." "No, you would only impede my movements. You must let me take you home. Perhaps something has been heard there by this time." "But I cannot stay at the Hall, tortured by my own thoughts it will drive me out of my senses! I might have averted this—might, and I would not! Oh, cruol that I have been!"

Georgo was firm, and Estella

returned

wlMi him

to

the Hall, where

everything was in the wildest confu-

"^r. Barnard was giving orders, and then as quickly contradicting them and had succeeded In frightening himself and his dependents till they were worse than useless.

But the coming of George remedied all this in less than half an hour by dint ol some sensible Inquiries, be sooiu discovered that Amy was last seen proceeding

toward

In

tho

the village, and this about the

time Estella first missed her. He hastened there, and learned tnore.

a cottage, not far from Mr. Phipps' residence, there lived a widow and her daughter, a pleasant looking, willing rl, who helped In tho kitchen at the

S

_al'l, occasionally, and was an especial protege of Amy Vaughan's.

It

was here that the yout)g lady had called, to entreat th« widow to permit

her

daughter L.vdirt to accompany her to Philadelphia, wheru, she said, urgent business immediately summoned

"I felt a bit uneasy like," saki the •widow "though I didn't know but what Miss Vaughan was going to hav* friends with her. But when I ventured to say it was growing latlsh and they'd hardly get there and back to-night, Miss Vaughan only nodded, and hurried Lydia the more."

1L,

It was then Just possible, that, what-

ever

mysterious cause led Amy away in thisex:raordln-nj uia.iaer, she would s»on be with them again, and they should hear it from her own lips.

Relying up-in this, Stella waited with what patience she could muster, until

vehicle s»»nt to the station to meet

the last

train returned without 4wiy.

And now she confessed to George the suspicion which troubled her. "I cannot help fearing," she faltered, "that my helpless sister has tied to Lionel, to share nls poverty.'

He did not reply at first, but presently he uttered a

reluctant,

"I am afraid she

has." Estella blushed deeply for the inconsiderate Amy. "I must follow her. Will it be too late, think you?" Again George besitatod* "Miss Vanghan, I may as well say out frankly what ia in my mind. I should not feel very nneasy if I were gQr that Amy was sately with Leo lor ho would protect her with his life, and IT they perpetrated a hasty marriage no one could blame them."

But Estella, thinking of Lionel placed In an awkward position by this indellcite

conduct

He stopped, but Estella knew the rest. If the vessel had started, her sister mnst be in the big city with no protector and no better companion than a simple rustic, still younger than herself.

The thought was startling, for Amy _new no one in town except her schoolmistress, to whom she could apply for shelter, and Mrs. Dickson generally sp*nt this period of the year at the seaside. "We can do nothing till the morning," said George "and then I will make arrangements with Mr. Phipps, so that we may go to the town together, and either bring the truant back or wish her a happy voyage to her new home."

To this Estella wa3 forced to agree and as soon as an hour wa? appointed for starting, she slipped up stairs to her own chamber.

George Barnard, ever thoughtful, favored her retreat, for he saw she was in no mood to bear his father's fretful speeches patiently.

Mr. Barnard, now that bis dread was relieved lest: ia harshness had resulted in Amy Vaughan's death, went, as usual. to the opposite extreme.

Hailing against her as a headstrong, forward mi&s, who must be as mad as a March hare, and at Estella, as an idiot, for leading him to believe something had happened to her, be wound up by abusing MJss Barnard for not taking better caie of his ward during his absence.

George ventured a word in his aunt's defense, and brought the storm upon his own head. "It's all owing to your obstinacy," Mr. Bernard captiously exclaimed. "Jf you had paid your addresses to her when I first hinted my wishes, she would never have thou* ht of Lionel and all this worry and alarm could not have occurred. You've been a s: urce of unknown anxiety to me, you have. I wonder bow it is that I continue to feel an interest in you

He went on in this strain till quite tired out, no one caring to contradict him for George had l'arned long ago tho wise policy of turning a deaf ear to the taunts leveled at him.

With heavy eyes that told their own tale, Estella oatne down stairs at dawn. No one was svirring in the house, so sbe went to the front door, un marred it, and lot/kf out.

Itwsa bright, fresh morning, and before the suri peeped over the tops of the hills to greet ner, George Barnard rode up, accompanied by the widow whose daughter was with Amy. "You cannot travel without a companion," he said, in reply to Estella's inquiring glance "and 1 thought Mrs. Hunt, having an interest in the matter, would suit you better than a stranger."

To this the gratefully assented and in a few hours Mr. Phipps having procured the services of a friend, George was piloting his timid companions through the maze of the city streets.

Estella's heart sank when she learned that the ColGmbo cleard^ out early en the previous night. "Then there is no hope of overtaking then), nor even of ascertaining if Amy is on board, and"—her color rose as she added, and married."

Yes, George had learned there was a chance of overtaking them at where they were to take in some Government stores.

Before leaving the dock he made other inquiries, which ended in converting their suspicion respecting Amy's destination when she left the Hall into certainty.

A lady, young, well -dressed, and attended by a maid servant, had been observed asking if the Colombo had left her moorings, only an hour earlier in the day.

On receiving an answer in the affirmative, she had fainted and. from her assiduous attendant's hints, it transpired that she had left her home to follow the fortunes of a lover or newly-wedded husband.

George glanced at the listening Estella. Was it possible that the rash young couple, despairing of ever obtaining Mr. Barnard's consent, had been secretly united without it!

The young lady, as soon a" she recovered, had lett Philadelphia for -—, and thither went our party also. Estella fait as if a load were suddenly lifted off her conscience, when it was proclaimed that the Colombo lay oft the shore.

George began to whistle a merry tune, and the widow wiped her eyes, and hoped, with a sob, that sbe could be allowod to take hor child back to Aston for, though she was ready to do anything in the world for Miss Amy, yet she couldn't abide the thought of her Lydia going to a foreign country. "We will all go back to Aston," said Estella, kindly. "My sister'syouth and experience must plead her excuse for this mad expedition."

And now sbe began to prepare herself to meet Lionel with sisterly cordiality. It was a difficult part to play, and George, when he saw her agitation, refused. to let her go to the Colombo. "No, no there is no occasion lor it. I will send a message to Leo, and when he comes to us we can arrange matters as you think boat. Ifitisas you suspect, Amy will be afraid to see you until assured thai you oome in kindness."

A uiessonger was accordingly dispatched but the time seemed interminable before Lionel Aston appeared.

Even George grew restless, and fidgeted from window to window, or roamed up and down the stairs and Estella's color came and went continually.

Only the widow, satisfied that she would regain her daughter, covered her head with a pocket handkerchief, and made up for the broken rest of the preceding night by a comfortable nod.

At last George threw down the paper he had snatched up, and listened. There was no mistaking that footfall. It was Lionel's and the next moment he entered the room, greeting them heartily, delighted to see them, yet with anxiety and doubt in his looks, lest their presence foreboded misfortune. "Amy," he said "is she well? How is it I see you here?" "Sue to not with you, then?" cried the dismayed George i»r Miss Vaugbau's voice tailed her. "Amy with me? Good heavens! what do you mean? Amy with me!"

"If

she is not with you—and I cannot think vou would deceive us, Leo—sbe is oaitainly in this town for we have traced her hither."

That Lionel was not aware of, or in any way the instigator of her flight from Aston, was evident in the peturbation with which he beard this.

But Estella felt relieved that the lovers had not met. It would now be her pleasant office to reunite them—to whisper in the ear of

her

on the part ot his betrothed,

looked thoroughly distressed. Ani again, how would the delieate Amy, unprovided with the commonest necessaries of a traveler, endure the discomforts of along seavoyage? ••But this Is what troubles me," Georgs continued. "1 know that Loo lingered here until the last moment, barely leaving himself lime to fit himself out and

SUevening

ton board. If the vessel left the deck

enraptured sister that the necessity

for

Leo'svoyage

no longer remained—

that the sorrowful separation which had cost her so many tears was already OVCf

But Lionel heard George's narration

gone,

to bation. "I have seen the young lady of whom you speak. Sbe came on board the Colombo not ten minutes belore 1 left. She is a deceived and deserted youug creature, whom every one Is pitying

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

Amy cannot be

but her betrayer. here!" And so it proved. A were spent in ceaseless until even George—who clung to hope till the last—was forced to acknowledge that lingering any longer in would be useless. No one answering the description of Amy or her youthful companion had been seen there and, their party increased by the alarmed Lionel, they returned to Philadelphia.

iv and night Investigation,

CHAPTER XIX.

1

*"s FOUND.

Two—three days spent in this city, and still no tidings of the lost girls. In vain did Lionel and his faithful ally make every effort they could devise or others suggest.

Even Mr. Barnard, aroused into action bv this very untoward event, had came to town, and assisted them until he'grew quite weary of the unavailing quest.

An absolute mystery hung over the affair. Amy and her attendant had been traced to the metropolis.

At the station she had hired a cab, desiring the man to drive her and her timid companion to the great Square but, as tl?ey went along the streets, the vehicle in which they were seated came in contact with another, and the frightened girls—probably more alarmed at the abuse exchanged by the drivers than at the collision—had insisted upon being set down.

Wnither they went from that moment no one knew and what should, take Amy to the vicinity of the great Square —a district where she had not a single acquaintance—seemed equally extraordinary.

At first the search was prosecuted with as much secrecy as was compatible with its object no one caring to make the young lady's disappearance the subject of common talk.

But when the combined efforts of the half distracted Lionel, and the equally zealous George, bore no fruits, the services of the police were put in requisition.

Advertisements describing the missing girls, and offering an ample reward for any information which would lead to their whereabouts^ now appeared in every newspaper and on every blank wall.

Still no success and Lionel, now the ghost of his former self, would surely have sunk into utter despondency, were it not for George's cheering predictions.

But if Amy's lover suffered thus, what were the feelings of her remorseful sister?

Who shall portray them, as the days passed on, and brought with them no tidings—no hope for the morrow?

Everv bitter, envious feeling which sbe had cherished toward her innocent sister was now receiving its chastisement.

A self-condemned, guilty creature, Estella longed for death. She dared not even confess to any one the extant of her inward upbraidings, lest they should utterly shrink from and loathe her for she dreaded to be alone.

Amy's face—asit had bent over her on the day of Lionel's departure—no longer radiant with rosy beauty, but troubled and tear-stained, seemed ever haunting her.

George Barnard, whose keener dis criminations comprehended this, began to fear that her restless wanderings and sleepless nights would end in insanity.

By his advice, Lionel firmly refused to let her be the companion of their researches any longer.

She offered no resistance. Indeed, the very presence of Amy's lover, and his anguished looks, increased her own agony.

So, as sbe piteously entreated not to be taken to the Hall, they confided her to the care of an amiable family—one of the few with whom Mrs. Barnard had contrived to keep up tho friendly intercourse of earlier life.

From these good people—an elderly gentleman and his two maiden sistersshe received every kind and thoughtful attention.

Sometimes, just merely to arouse her froni the apathy of despair into which she wouid sit for hours, Mr. Eldon would talk to bei* of Ber father, with whom he had been intimately acquainted.

One of the very few things that her dulled ear received and ccfcnprebended explained bow the letters and miniature which had been made use of to arouse her mother's jealousy came into Capt. Vaughan's possession.

It appeared that, in an early stage of their engagement, Mr. Aston ana bis gentle Sophia contrived to quarrel desperately.

To such length3 was the disagreement carried, that even the letters of the lady were confided to hor cousin, that they might be returned.

But be, with much greater foresight than the young couple, had delayed executing "bis commission and, ere long, the breach had been healed by the intervention of one of Mr. Eldon's sisters.

Their nuptials taok place soon afterward, and the letters lay almost entirely forgotten in Capt. Vaughan's desk, until tho agent of the disappointed and revenge-seeking Antonia discovered the 31.

Mrs. Seddon, the young widow whose child Estolla had nursed, came intQ town, and took apartments at a neigh b»ring hotel, in the hope of being useful in her turn.

It was from her that Miss Vaughan had learned how tho mother of Lydia wai very seriously ill with grief and anxiety.

She was lying at the house of a relative, and was desirous of seeing Estella. She fancied that news had been received of her child, but that there was something amiss which those about her bed were keeping trom her nor would augbt pacify her but seeing Estella from whom she felt sure of hearing the truth.

In obedience to the wishes of her friends, Miss Vaughan went -but so dreadful was the sight af her tearless grief that the poor woman, breaking into tears and sobs, forgot her own sorrow, and prayed heaven to comfort the unhappy voung lady.

4

Do not, 1 pray you, Leseecb him for me," said Estella, mournfully. "He will not hear you. For my sins, He has forsaken me!"

But kydia's mother, with stronger and better faith, respectfully took the listless band extended to bid her fare-

"I'm but a poor and ignorant creature, miss, but I know enough to be sure that you're wrong. Heaven never forsakes

them

that pray to Him with

their whole hearts! My darling Is in His bands, and I ha'nt lost all my hope yet!"

Estella's gloomy despair melted before the simple trustfulness of the bereaved mother, who, despite her bodily weakness, clung to the hand that chastened ber.

Sinking on her knees, and burying her face in the bedclothes, she wept long and violently but Mrs. Seddon, who had been the companion offvecwalM, let

her weep on uncheoked. She knew the relief it would afford to the overcharged brain.

When the ladies turned their steps homeward, Sstella's face looked calmer than it bad been since Amy's disappearance.

But she did not appear at all'inclined to talk, and they walked on in silence, until a throng of people, gathered around a crying child, impeded their progress.

The crowd, however, seon dispersed, for the cause of the child's trouble was nothing greater than the fall of a paroel of clean linen, which, unfolding as it fell, bad come in oontact with the street mud.

But the little girl was in such great distress at the anger with which she knew her misfortune would be visited, that the ladies stayed to comfort her, and finally, as the distance was inconsiderable, they agreed to accompany ber to her home, and intercede with her mother, of whose wrath she stood in such tdrror.

This errand led'them into a back street, and detained them so long that they knew they must greatly hurry to reach Mr. Eldon's bp the regular dinner hour. So rapid, therefore, was their pace, that Mrs. Seddon unwittingly jostled a young woman, who was staring at some gaudy prints in a shop window. "I beg your pardon sbe began.

A shriek from Estella interrupted the apology. The stranger turned round. It was Lydia.

She clapped her hands joyfully. "Oh, Miss Vaughan, I am so glad—so very glad I began to think you were never coming!" "Amy—my sister!" was all that Estella could utter. "Oh. miss, she's better—a great deal better! How pleased she will be to see you!" "Where is she? Take me to her!" "Only just down this street, miss, and then we must turn to the right, and there we are! Number 4 Mrs. Mabley's." "And who is Mrs. Mabley—and why are you staying with her!" asked Mrs. Seddon, who saw that her companion was too much agitated to make the inquiry herself. "Mrs. Mabley, ma'am! Why, she's the good woman that knocked Miss Amy and me down—leastways, her pony did. and Miss Amy didn't come to for ever so long." "She is ill, then—she is hurt!" sobbed Estella, hastening on, and signaling the loquacious to lead the way, which she was delighted to do.

In a few minutes Lydia stopped before a small, but decent looking house, and, rushing in at the half opened door scampered up stairs, closely followed by both ladies.

In an easy chair, her arm in a sling sat the lost Amy. She received warmly the rapturous embrace of her sister. She saw her fling herself on her knees, breathing heartfelt thanksgivings, with looks of surprise. "Mrs. Seddon, you are very welcome pray be seated. Dear Estella, what ails you?—and why have you stayed so long away?"

She looked still more astonished when told of the search that was in prog ess, and the anxiety her friends had been, and, indeed, were still enduring, on her account. "But I wrote to you—that is, Lydia wrote for me—twice and I have been hourly expecting your arrival. In fact, I was feeling myself ill used and neglected

The mystery of Lydia's letters never coming to hand was not explained until months afterward, when an unusually clever clerk at the General Postoffice succeeded in deciphering the extraordinary hieroglyphics, of which they were composed, and "MeesForn" was discovered to mean Miss Vaughan.

Amy, instantly appeased, and full of contrition for her complainings, new confessed waat had brought her into the present dilemma.

While awaiting the coming of Estella, in the summer parlor at the Hall, she had listlessly scanned the columns of the morning papers.

An advertisement had strnck her eye, for a governess for two little girls, whose mother was about to voyage to the colony to which Lionel also was bound.

What Amy had designated as a very bright thought instantly entered her mind.

Sbe would see this lady endeavor to obtain the situation, and thus, ere long she should at least inhabit the same country that held her lover and, perhaps, be permuted to receive his visits occasionally.

The scheme looked so feasible—the prospect of their reunion was so enchanting—that Amy's tears were dried and she resolved to let no time elapse ere she carried it out.

Aware that she could not hope for assistance from Estella, she determined to say nothing to her, until opposition was

U86

QgtJj

With the address oarfefully copied and put in her pocket-book, sbe hurriedly left the Hall sought the cottage of Lydia's mother, and was soon en route for the city.

After the misadventure with the hack, the timid and easily alarmed girls had endeavored to find ^heir way on foot but, puzzled by the turnings and windings of the streets and the increasing darkness, strayed far out of the right direction.

And it was now that, while trving to decipher the name of a street, through which they had been told they wore to pass, that Amy was knocked down ty a cart, the approach of which they had not noticed.

She was on ber feet again directly but so faint—so shaken by the fall—that the laundress, to whom the vehicle belonged, was in mortal terror lest the police should come up. and her own careless driving be questioned. Giving the reins to the little boy who rode with her, she carefully led the almost helpless girl to her own bouse.

Here Amy's hurts were attended to. Her arm was quite severely Bprained. and she was so very much bruised and shaken that for some time sbe was scarcely conscious of what bad happen-

Tbo laundress—a good natured, motherly body—quieted tne fears of Lydia and, on learning that the young lady was well connected, proposed that she should remain at ber house until ber friends could be acquainted with her condition.

To this Amy languidly consented. The Hall she disliked for its monotony, now Mrs. Barnard was dead, and Lionel away. She ceuld weep his absence here as well as there and sbe scarcely noted the passage of time, as she lay fret ting over their separation except when she roused herself to inquire if Estella had answered the letters dispatched to the Hall.

Lydia waited upon her assiduously and to her ignorance and Mrs. Mabley's must be ascribed tho fact that the advertisements bad not, as yet, attracted notice.

Weak and feverish, Amy did not care to be removed, when Estella spoke of

an

procuring Mr. Eldon

a carriage to convey her to

,r. Eldon's* "Sbe would do very well where she was," she said. "In a day or two, she should be sufficiently recovered to go and ascertain whether tbe advertiser had already engaged a governess. Until then, Lydia could go to her mother, and sbe would continue to remain at Mrs. Mabley's.

But when it was cautiously communicated that Lionel was still in Philadelphia the effect was electrical.

Her weakness and reluctance were forgotten, she was impatient to so directly and Estella heard herself chided for keeping the welcome tidings a secret so long.

In less than an hour. Amy was in the arms of her lover—sobbing out her joy at the blissful meeting while Lionel's thankful team fell like rain on tbe head nestling confidingly in his bosom and his lips fondly pressed the fair forehead be had never thought to touch in life again

j*** CHAPTER XX.

M$T~P ITS, A HAWY TIME, FT-1'"1"* /"'F Estella Vaughan bravHy carried out her resolution to atone for'the past.

As soon as Amy was sufficiently recovered, the sisters returned to the Hall, by Mr. Barnard's.desire. *But his captious remarks and reproofs weie no longer to be beard and borne in silence.

Estella had put Antonia di Cordova's will into the hands of the trusty solicitor who had acted for Mrs. Aston and certain arrangements were makiug for half the property to be transferred to ber sister.

The marriage with Lionel would quickly follow. "At the expense of her fortune," snarled Mr. Barnard, when he learned this "for I shall certainly not let her have it, if she persists in marrying without my consent." "Perhaps you will not withhold that, when you learn all I have to tell you," said Estella, quietly. "I have found tbe long-looked-for deed of the California property."

Mr. Barnard fairly jumped off his seat, led his sister to the door, telling her that his interview with Miss Vanghan was of a business character, and her presence was not required, and then came back with eager, covetous eyes. "You have found it! Is it possible? You shall be rewarded—at ^east, I will look over Mrs. Barnard's trinkets and find you something among them. Where was it? Where is ii?"

Estella related tbe circumstances attending the loss of the packet, and its recovery. "lust as I always said and thought," was the remark her narrative provoked. "It was entirely owing to Mrs. Barnard's terrible carelessness, and her extreme indulgence. You must excuse me. Miss Vaughan, but, as a child, you really were a meddling, impertinent little girl. But we will not recur to the past. This packet—where have you put it? I should liko to have it at once." "Without any conditions?" Estella asked, significantly.

Mr. Barnard looked a little crestfallen but began to bluster. What did Miss Vaughan mean by pro posing conditions? Was sbe aware of the awkward position in which she would find herself if she attempted to withhold those papers?

She heard him, unmoved. "Stay, sir, I have made another discovery, which may also interest you. It re lates to the death of your first wife, Laura Eversleigh!"

Mr. Barnard's manner changed directly. He stammered out, "What do you know? What do you mean? Who has been telling you "Telling me what?—that the shadow of a dark crime rests upon you?'! "It is false! Who dare say that I had any hand in her death?" he exclaimed, trying to gather up a little courage. "A mistake—committed by the nurse, or by herself—am I answerable far that?" "You are evidently in ignorance of tbe fact that Mrs. Barnard made a deposition, when dying, which has been properly attested and carefully preserv-

He fell back on a chair, and looked so death like that Estella thought he was about to faint.

But he rallied sufficiently to ask, "Where is this? Who has it?"

"Then heaven help me, for you will use your power!" and he covered his lace with his hands. "You will disgrac me, although I—I protest that I am an innocent man."

Estella gaz?d at him with mingled loathing and contempt. She longed to bring the interview to a close.

This was quickly done. To secure and destroy those papers Mr. Barnard would have conceded anything, for he was no bold villain.

He agreed to make over to Lionel the Aston Hall estate, reserving for himself tho valuable property in California.

As soon as this was legally arranged, the sordid man quitted Philadelphia, intent upon realizing many thousands bv speculations, lor which a fair field offerea.

George Barnard dutifully assisted his preparations, and saw him off when his voyage commonced. But the father and son parted without regret on either side and when, a few weeks later, the ship in which Mr. Barnard sailed foundered at sea, and all on board perished, George, although greatly shocked, tnade no professions of a grief it would have been impossible for one so neglected and unloved to experience.

The death of Mr. Barnard without a will put Lionel Aston in full possession of all his mother's property, for George stubbornly refused to retain anything that he did not regard as jpstly his own.

To the Hall, newly painted and hand­

somely

furnished for tne occasion, Lio­

nel Aston drought bis Amy, after their wedding trip.

E3tella—always

calm and cheerful-

had been the leading spifit^f all their plans. It was her bands that placed the

orange-blossoms

and bridal veil on

Amv's bead—ber voice that first congratulated the youthful pair as they came from the altar—her smiling face they beheld, brightest of all in tbe bridal party assembled at tbe porch to see them depart, to dream away a happy month in Italy.

And wbo guessed what a continual struggle it was to assume that cheerfulness er to utter those smiling congratulations?

Perhaps none, but Mrs. oeddon, wbo was too delicate to appear cognizant of Estella's depression and tears when any one waa not by, and George Bar-

^Tbe latter said nothing, bat when Estella suddenly announced that she had resolved to travel, and Mrs. Seddon, with ber family, woald accompany her. he applauded the plan although Lionel had warmly remonstrated, and Amy used all her eloquence to set it aside.

But Estella was not to be persuaded. As soon as Mr. and Mrs. Aston were comfortably settled at tbe Hall, she bade tbem farewell, secretly determining never to revialt Philadelphia until she could meet Lionel without the faintest shadow of a regret that he had loved another.

WfM

Years passed by, and still Estella waa a wanderer. Her letters from Aston assured her that Amy was happy in tbe society of her husband and children.

Bat she oaoae at last, drawn back to her native land by a newspaper report. It told ber tbafe the very clever young physician, Dr. Barnard, was dying. That his almost superhuman exertions among the poor, during a visitation of cholera, had prostrated him.

Still accompanied by Mrs. Seddon and her children, Estella hastened to America.

Within the hour of landing, while her friends were yet recruiting themselves after ths fatigues of traveling, she started off, attended only by her maid, and knocked at a door in a fashionable equare in Philadelphia, where George now resided.

Here she expected to find Amy and Lionel, who had, doubtless, flown to him at once, as soon as they heard of his illness.

But no it was George himself—a little older and paler, with all the awkwardness of the boy giving place to the polished bearing of a true gentleman—who emerged from bis study at the sound of her first inquiry.

Seizing both her bands, he drew her into the room, and put her into his easy chair. "I knew the voice directly! I should have known your voice anywhere, Estella, even if you were altered, which you are net." "And yet,* she answered, with a pensive smile, "I am older and graver than in those days when Amy and I used to plague you." "But the true beauty of expression has nothing to do with age," saia George regarding her so intently that her color deepened. "To my mind, your faoe is sweeter now than when it wore the first bloom of youth."

To change the conversation, which was growing embarrassing, Estella asked for Lionel and Amy, adding, "I thought to find them here in attenaanoe on you." "No, they are at the Hall both well and happy. Then you have seen that very exaggerated report of my illness. Pooh! it was nothing. I was meditating a trip to the Tyrol, on purpese to see you when it seized me."

I am glad to find that we have had our journey for naught," Estella said. "Mrs. Seddon and I came home on purpose to nurse you."

George Barnard stooped forward and kissed the hand he still held in his. "Then you thought of me sometimes— you thought of me kindly?" "I must have been ungrateful, indeed, if I ever thought otherwise of my trusty friend," Estella replied, her eyo sinking beneath his. "But I must return to Mrs. Seddon and relieve her anxiety on your account." "Don't go yet, Estella. I have often thought that if I could only be with you face to face, as we are now, I would confess how, from the very first day I beheld you, you have been inexpressibly dear to me."

She started, bat did not attempt to draw her band from his gentle grasp. "I never forgot my own imperfections," he went on, "but at the same time I never relinquished the hope of overcoming tbem but with little expec* tation of ever winning you, for I knew that you dreamed not of the wild aspirations of your loutish playfellow. I used to think I could have borne to see you the wife of another so that I saw you happy! Perhaps, even now," he added, agftatodlv, "you are no longer free, and I am making this confession to a betrothed wife?" "No," Estella murmured, with an effort to speak playfully "I am alone In the world. Amy bus others to love her and my exacting nature will not rest contented with the small share of her heart that is left for me. And now you must let me go.'.'

He made no opposition but rang for her attendant immediately. However, he insisted upon being her or el

An inexplicable something which was in their faces, when they presented themselves before Mrs. Seddon, made her look from oue to the other, earnestly. "I don't know," she said, taking their hands in hers, "I may be wrong, for I am very often, as Estella ssmetlmes tells me, a foolishly impulsive little woman. But jou are—Doth of you—mv very dear friends and I have long hoped that "Ob, hush!" said Miss Vaughan, crimsoning deeply.

She felt half ashamed of the belief that sbe might yet know a vast deal of quiet felicity in the world, which was last stealing over her.

It was so riifTereht to what she had often told herself her life must henceforth be!

But George Barnard was one. not who hesitated when so much was at

St"Dear

-4

Estella, Mrs. Seddon sees that I

love you with a firm and enduringaffectian. I would not ask you to be mine, if I did not feel that all a man can honestly endeavor to Insure a woman happiness I should cheerfully do."

Estella's head sank. "You think too well of mr. iou know that I have loved another, but do not know all tho wrong tnougbt I have cherished."

irnnw that no

mortal man must ex

full of little foibles myself—apt to be saappish when I come home wet or weary, and to feel myself aggrieved when I have too much to do, or not enough—" "You need say no more," said Mrs. Seddon, putting Estella's fingers In bis. "This dear and true woman will henceforth share your toils, and lighten them by her sympathy. Together, you will seek out the sick and needy, and find one of the blessings of your life in lightening the burdens of those on whom tbe Creator has not bestowed the competency, tbe health and abilities, with which he has endowed you." "Is it to be so, iSstella?" George asked, tenderly.

Her "yes" to his question has never been repented. Lionel and Amy are happy at Aston Hall, where fair children are springing up around tbem butl doubt if they are happier than George Barnard, tbe

hard-working

physician,

and bis faithful and ever-generous helpmate, Estella.

[THE END.]

J. W. BABIFJSTT. W. H. PAMTKR. M. A. SWIFT. ARBLE WORKS.

BARNETT, PALMER A SWIFT,

IXPORTKBS AJfD DEALERS IN

Rose and Gray Scotch Granite AND ITALIAN MARBLE MONUMENTS, Tomb B, ad Stones, Vaults, Man tela, East Main street, between Twelfth and

Thirteenth streets, TERRE HAUTE, IND.

All work warranted to give satisfaction.