Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 10, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 31 August 1878 — Page 2

THE MAIK

4 A PAPER

FOR THE

PEOPLE.

T»BR1C TTAT7TK, AUGUST 31,1878

SOMETIME.

Sometime youll think of these summer Breanolfy fading ID purple haze. Sometime, with a thrill of passionate pain, YouH long for their sweetness over again. Sometime you'll liBten in-silence lone, For a girlish voice that was all your own*. Sometime when the starlight is shining bright, /H P* the moon drops low in the summer night, Ym will watch for a White-robed Sometime in your dreaming a little hand WIU linger in yours at love's sweet demand And gazing tfeep in the luminous eyes, That made for your light its paradise. 'the

light, the music, and odorous calm Of this golden crowned summer with lln goring balm, ^v Till, starting, I waken, to clasp but air, Ana list to a flitting footfall there. Sometime you'd give all the wise world'i praise' For one of these vanishing summer days For Just one leaf ol the swaying bough— {Sometime you'd clasp it ah, why not now, E*e the lingering light of the perfect days Has faded,forever, in mystic hare?

The Tragedy at Hamilton Hall.

m.t

BY

at* 1 8ff {let' ma

ELLA WHEELER.*,

33!*

I"1 rfl*

I know the whole story—know it from having lived in it, and through it, to the last act—know it from having told it over and over, as I tell it now* But this much I will swear, to. Whatever the sins of my darling were—vanity, love •f power, imprudence, whatever crimes resulted from them, she herself was pare and nnsullied to the last. No one •instever cast an aspersion upon her character, who expects any favor from old Rachel Savoy.

I was her mother's maid, you understand, before isbe married wild, young Bosh Hamilton. Indeed, I was in th® green room, when he first came behind the scenes, between acts, to see her. I xetoember well bow his blue eyes shone upon ber, my sparkling young mistress, who was fairly bewildering in her beauty, that night. Not two months later, Bh» left tlie French Theatre forever left it to become the wife of her AmericanJoVer. v. a -I own I was surprised for I had tended my mistress was wedded to her stage Hie, aud so f'otid of it that nothing bM death could win her from it. She did plead to be allowed to remain beTore the public, but he would have none of it. 'My wife must be my wife,' I heard him say to her, one day, as be Was going oatj 'and* not a joint possession of the' public: If you do not love me well enough to make thisaacriflce for me, theoyou do not love toe as the woman wbote to be my wife, must.'

So she married him. and gave up ber brilliant life of excitement, that, in every way had ministered to her vanity, and accompanied him to London, where ber husband bad placed her in elegant lodgings, and anticipated ber every WMD. But I SAW that my lady was pining In spite of it. The love, the tenderness, the luxury, could hot satisfy her. She longed for the admiration of the multitude, for ber old lite of power, and success and exitement. Many a time I have seen the poor thing throw herselfupon the floor of ber room, and beat herself in very frenzy of despair, after my yonngmaster bad gone out. •Oh, Rachel» Rachel,' she would cry, 'thislifo will kill me—It is killing me Why can't he see—why can't he see— why can the understand—how terrible It lef

It dawned upon him at lask He brought home to her, as fc present, upon the first anniversary of their marriage, a beautiful linnet, in a costly gilded cage. My lady received the gift listlessly and I saw pain in my poor young master's face. He went out slowly, and did not return for hours. But wLen he did return, he Svas surprised to see bin young wife sitting by the open window with the cage upon her knee, and its door open. 'What are you doing?' he cried. *Why, Corlnno, your bird will fly out, if yen d» not take care.'

Bven as he spoke, the linnet flitted through the open door of the cage, hop*ped topon the window sill, spread its wings and wasgono.

She tamed to him. with a look of delight iu her lace, aud a sigh of relief apon her lips. 'Oh,' she said, *1 am so glad the poor thing thing is free—so glad. How happy Ik must be. to leave its gilded prison, aad fly forth once more, into the great

She seemed to forget to whom she was speaking. She had risen, and as she ttldtho last words, 'once more into the great world—free,' she spread out her arms, with a gesture of infinite longing —with an expression of infinite pain In her great eyes.

I ml Jufrt ontsM* tb« door, hnt where 1 asnld see and bear ali that occurred, mt I mended a bit oflaee lor my lady, MMh I could 1 could do most exquisitely. before my eyesight failed me.

I ahall never forget tbe look that came ever my young master's face. It was as If a hand had dealt him a terrible blow. All the youth and hope and joy went dot from his h*hds»ome face. He grew white, ami rigid, and old. He took one Mtp tow*rdjs hiwife, •I understand.' he aald, and may it never be my lot to bear a voice like that again. 'I understand. Yon are tired of MM. You %**ht your freedom, aud the world again I Am I right f»

My lady looked him fearlessly in the eyes, thongh ahe.was white as the dead SfW* 'yea,' alia answer*-!, quietlr. 'yea, you gn right 1 am timi or it all I'

My young master's rage was now aw111 to witness. Yoa am tired of It allf he cried. 'Tired ot an honorable loye? T.red of aa bonar*bl»t life You, for whom

you know what my slater wrote to me, bmijyflat#rd* "We have beard that am are married to an actress, but our fiber will not credit the report he is tfcrribly angry, notwithstanding, aad swears to disinherit you, tulm *m write and rvtute the aUU»uitiU" God issowa I would rather have died than JUT* told ytwa of this, when it came— rather have died than to have given yon a pang it mattered little to me what I •jsse up, what I relinquishpd, so long as Fkad yon. But iijs different now. Take

I

jom. Go back to the life you tor. -Never will 1 look upon yoqjF Hsjj faas $gain,?

He flung himself fronwthe room, and I beard hia step echo down the stain. But before he reached tbe landing, my lady had fallen, hp a- swoob. pqpon the floor. I shrieked aloud, and tan alter master and grsajped this ^arm jost as he was rushing in£ the street. *Ob,,jDr God's sake!' I oiled, 'cdme back. Swis dying!'

He did not writ for a second call. All hia great love came back into his face and Beautified it and in a moment he waa kneeling by my lady, holding her in his arms, sobbing over ber, calling ber every endearing name. For a long while she never heard.! She lay In a dead swoon till we thought life bad departeds But at last she recovered, but only for a few hours. At daybreak, her child, Felise, was born, and Corinne, the mother, was a corpse.

Can yon wonder that Felise was a strange,- wayward creature? Can yon blame her for all that followed 9 I say we are partly what onr mothers make tu before we see the light or breathe the air of life. Felise came into this world with all those longings for power and admiration, all that love of tbe world, all those inclinations for excitement and sensation, which bad made Coriune's married life so galling, so miserable. Could she help it? Was she responsible?

We boarded, JFelise and I, for many years, in London. My broken hearted master roamed about, seeking in vain to find contentment and peace. Felise was three years old, before he went to his native land. 'Good bye, Rachel/ he arid, the morning be lfeft. 'I am going to my father's and I hope to send for you and Felise very soon. I will supply you with money regularly but if you need anything write to me at once. I trust that you will be sent for very soon.'

But we were not sent for. Instead, my young master came back to us Walter a year's absence, looking sadder than ever and with a reckless air I did not like. •We will go to America, Rachel,' he said, 'though not to my father's. My family are more cruel than the grave, Rachel and they tell :me that the daughter of an actress can never enter Hamilton Hall. But my father is old and foiling and needs my love and care. Tou and Felise I want near me—and you may as well be in New York as in London. We will sail next week.'

Felise was four years old the day we landed in New York. My master had prepared rooms for tie and to this day I cannot pass that house where I spent such happy hours with my darling, without a swelling of the :beirt and a dimming of the eyes. Ten happy, happy years we lived in our pleasant lodgings together.. My young master came to see us at least twice every year. But he was cot the handsome young man .of old. He .had grown reokless looking, and one night, the night Felise was fourteen, he came to tell us that he had married a wife, a rich heiress, at the wish of bis father. 'And now,- Felise,' he said, you must go to school. You have been taught all the common branches by good .teachers, and your French I well kndw is perfect. But you must have other accomplishments jfou will be heiress of Hamilton Hall, and I want yen -fitted for the station. Two years at the best boarding school in the State* «nd then two years of travel will make you a young lady, hey, Felise

So my darling was sent away. But I was near to het where'I oould watch over her. It was there at school that trouble began that the latent inclinations burst Into life thtft the propensities I have striven so hard to eradicate blossomed into full bloom.

The rules of the sahOol were most strict*. How F&ise found opportunities foe. such escapades I never knew. I only knew she had them.: She made me take charge of the bouquets, baskets of fruit, boxes of gloves, and trinkets of all kinds that were showered tipon .her by demented swains. In vain I pleaded with her. In vain I.told her that to receive such gifts, to allow such freedom from gentlemen was immodest—improper. She only laughed kissed me, ran away, aud came again the next day vrith tbe memento of some new lover.

Her dancing master was ber last victim. He was Fmnqh, and Inflammable and Felise rendered him tbe laughing stock Of the whole aehool. Yet no one ever beard her intimate by word or tone that she knew. oi: his inratnation. She took his gifts and glances aud In mv heart I knew she despised him for his folly, but she never said it.

I waa glad when the two years were over, ana we were ready for OUT travels. We isvere to spend half a year in Paris, and tbe remainder of tbe two years In different parts of the continent. We had good introductions, and Felise srfw the best society. She bad no end of affairs during her two years abroad. I do not like to recall them I could not be induced to relate them, tbongh there Is little I do not know she kept nothing from me. But I wiil-'S&y this, that' though she was Imprudent, reckless and wayward, though vanity and love of exciteftient often led her to violate conventionalisms, yet she wafe ever pure in heart, and in life. It Vras as ir two different natures, by turns, controlled her, as if the fire of ber French mother drove her to the brink of a precipice, as if tbe oool blood of her American father enabled her to turn baok unbanned.

Her victims never blamed her. could not understand it. But while *he made fools and wreoks off ibeat, itiey loved her, and Messed her to the end. Rven ig Ponsonby, the second Son of li Ponsohby, who, they said, accidentally shot himself, died with her name on Ms lips.

I fancied ray young lady would be very different after that, thongb I had always believed she had really loved him, and had only trifled with him because it was her natare, because she could not help It. She was different for several months. At this tiui-% too, We were summoned home. Our two years were up, and her tather wrote that he wished her to return, and to take ber

proper place, as heiress of Hamilton Hall. 1 believed, most hnpUcitly, at that time In tbe final an« complete change which I thought had come over Felise. The dreadful end of young Ponsenbv, I was convinced, had aohered ber forever*

It was quite five yean since Master Hugh Hamilton had taken anew mistress to the Hall, and Feiiee was now nineteen. The old uiaatar had died during our absence in Europe, and immediately upon tint return Sir Hugh, as I called him despite his being an American, came to take us both to tbe Hail. 'I am master there now,* he said, *and Feliae is my Jbeirem. Sba must take ber Hgbtftil'plaoci a*mv dangbteT add you, Racteal, must stay with us alwaya.* 'But, air,* I qnearied, 'will we be welcome at the Kali? I would rather stay In our home bare, where we have been so happy, than to go where Miss Felise and myaelf will be looked upon as Interlopers.'

The bine eyes of Sir Hugh flashed asf he made answer. •I bave lived apart from my daughter for fourteen year* at the wish of my fiUber: »il I married as he desired. Now tbat I art maaterof Hamilton Bill

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

cy no inmate ot it insinuate that my oldest daugbteif ia an I%t6rloper. Yo» wilj^ makf refdy *b g*

f^M»«ve%e«rl oel|l»ealEn o&enS or presentiments. But f$om tbe ipoment tbe door of Hamilton Ihll closed behind my jonng Jady ahd me that autumn dav, I knew, as well as I know now, that terrible woe was to eome to us all.

I will never forget that first evening at tbe Hall. When we arrived the servants had assembled to welcome us, but there was no one else visible. A dark flaah 8MnedSlr#Hngh'sfitteashelooked about, and stepping forward, he spoke a few words in flow tone to Mrs. Jamison, the housekeeper then he turned to Qg, 'Excuse the absence of Mrs. Hamilton,' he saidi. 'Mrs. Jamison informs me she is confined to ber room with a severe headache, and that her sister, Miss Mo Allister, is In attendant on her. Jamison will show yon to your rooms. Dinner will be served at sevein.

I can see my young lady now, as she went down to dinner. She wore a rich, wine-colored silk, that fell about her in soft, sheeny billows a rare India silk it was, and fitted to her lithe figure by the hands of a Parisian artiste. Her smooth, brown arms were exposed from the elbow, and were as perfect and beautiful as the arms of a bronze ststue. She was not handsome, my lady Felise, according to rule. She was a little above medium size, lithe and supple. She had great, dark eyes, and a brown, oval face, with no color eave in the crimson Of her perfect lips. But she was wonderfully attractive to most people, especially to gentleOien.

I took dinherwitli Mrs. Jamison, and, of course, was not an eye or ear witness to what occurred in tbe great family dining hall that night. But I have heard it all many a time from those who were, and first of all, from my darling herself.

I was back in our room, and had been unpacking my lady's trunks and shaking out her dresses, and arranging her wardrobe generally, when I heard her step the hall and she glided in and Stood before me.

It must have been long after -ten o'clock. As she came in, I saw that her great eyes were full of a dangerous light, and she was twisting her fingers together in away she had when annoyed. •Rachel,' she said, abruptly, in her quiet, firm voice, 'Rachel, I came here, as you know, determined to be kind and good to every rpember of this household. O, Rachel, I never made, such noble resolves in all my life before. Bqt it is no ttse. It is to be war—war to the knife.'

I waited until she was calmer, knowing she would tell me more in horo-wn good time, and that it wasuseless to question her. It was ber way question her,' and she would be closer than the grave. Ask ber nothing, and she would tell me all. wa 'You see, Rachel,'shenvent on. throwing herself down on a fleii shawl "that I bad just unpacked, *yoa see, I knew by my father's] face to-night that tbe absence of his wife when ve- arrived was/ sot owing to her headache, that it was an intentional neglect. But I passed it over and resolved not to feel it. But when I went down to the dining room there was no lady present to receive me. My father was there, walking up arid down restlessly. When seven o'clock stmck he looked at bis watch and frowned* He waited for ten minutes -more, and then sttidy "the dinner, Felise." And offering his arm, he conducted me to the dining room, saying, "take tbe bead of the table." I hesitated, but be made an imperious gesture, ana I took my seat. The sevvaht was just bringing in the- soup when two ladies fewept into the room. The foremost and oldest I knew at once must be my father's wife. She was a tall, eleganV blonde, with a handsome, fretful filce. and thin hands loaded With jewels. Behind her came her- sister,. Miss McAllister, looking as .Mrs. Hamilton must have looked five years before,'*1 fresher, fuller faced, golden haired and gracefbl', and- most becomingly attired in blue silk. 'Mrs. Hamilton's eyes flashed when she saw us alroady seated. "I think you are in great hasoe^Hugb," were hex first words. But my father replied only by presenting me, as his daughter, to both ladies. 'They bowed, coldly, and took seats, Mrs. Hamilton directly at' my left. ''John," she said, addressing'the footman, "You have made a mistake. Bring the soup tureen here, am mistress of Hamilton Hall," .v. 'John stood irresolute. My father spoke, in his cold, clear voice. "Allow the am llton, when dinner waits I Install as mistress. Serve tbe soup,'Felise.?!. 'The next half hour was.. full of constraint. 1 Strove lo rembve it. afad endeavored to be agreeable, especially with Mrs. Hamilton and Miss. McAllister. But their ill ooneealed contempt and dislike of me was evident In their haughty glances and monosyllabic replies. At length I abandoned my attempts. They have chosen their line. I bear there is a Mr. Meekler, who lives In that handsome villa we passed, near tbe park gates, and that, he is very rioh and very attentive to MteS McAllister. Let her loot to it. Oh, Rachel, I tried to be good, but they would not let roe. Those yellow haired women have thrown down the gauntlet, aad It must be war to the end now.* .f

I confess I could bardly blame my dear young lady. At least, I could not blame ber for her angers Her threat of revengfe But of that by and bye. Even that, however, wamaturai.

I found out-through Jamison the next day the exact condition of aflhirsconcerning Mr. Meckler and Miss McAllis ter.

Oiuy Meckler was the list Kefon of an old family. His mother teas French, bis father Kngiish. Tbe elder Meckler bad lived in princely style until he had squandered all but a remnant of bis eatate, and than bad died, happily for those who had survived: him* His only child, Guy, a boy of ten, had lived to grow to. manhood to work his way up, to reseoe the old homestead from the hands of strangers awl to acqnim an mtste valued at not leas than half a million. •A most 'andsome nm he la,' said Jamison, who bad been born In England, and who could never arrange tier bVpropetly, *a moat handsome man Is Mr.Gigr, and *aa seen a blto'Hfo— roanin'toaa' fro betwixt Franca, Germany, HamerLca and Hengland, *m hall ns, to arrange la propwrty but though 'e 'aa been tempted by ail kinds winlln' ladisL't boen cold has bice to the fair sex bail Is life. Bat wada think has *e'as Is beye upon Mias Oraee McAllister now, for 'e oomea 'are halmoet daUy. tbough 'e sits with lir. I most o* tbe time, we do think 'e^w tentions and Miss Qraea baets very *appy horer it.'

So I got at the bottom of It without asking one question *nd I told my lady Felise that very day, aad begged ber to be careful*

They will not 1& ajpriae like (hat be taken from them witfcput a struggle,* I

said, 'and you will be only bringing the bouse down about your eank, Beaide, I fancy this man with the mixed blood in bis veins, who has now the liameof an iceberg* among women, woald not be safe to trifle with. Bach natures, when aroused, are always more dangerous than men of fire and I do pray you. Miss Felise, hot to mike a victim of Guy Meckler.Something warns me that dire%oe%lll come of it. If you do.'

Felise made me ho answer,but isughed and went on with her toilet. She was going out for a walk, to explore the 'grounds about the Hall, ana to mill -aolhe lettera at the postefBce^-a'mile or more distant. She would not send them by tbe groom. She needed the wk, 'she said, to keep her fresh.

An hour later she.calne in with a fine glow shining under her dark skin, ehe was in high spirits, and I

BSW

ber

wmiiing softly, all the time she dressed for dinner. 'Such a lovely place as it is about here, Rachel—and such nine walk as I have had!' she mid, as she went down the stairs, just before me.

I was going to my quiet tea with Jamison. Jamison and I. sat and gossiped together, as two old ladies might, and when we came out into the hall, we found the ladies just ascending the stairs. Felise was between Mrs. Hamilton and Mias McAllister and as they reached tbe landing, she paused, before turning into our room, and spoke. 'By the way, ladies,: I am commissioned with a message for you. During my walk this afternoon I met Mr. Meckler. He begged me to inform you that he should doi himself the honor of calling thisevening, if agreeable—which I assured him it would be, at least to one of the trio.*

I noticed the angry expression of both faces. Mrs. Hamilton swept away without a word but Miss McAllister answered with a sneer. 'Mr. Meckler,' she said, 'need not have taken the trpuble to send word he is received here very informally and scarcely an evening passes, that does not bring him.'

My young lady Only Smiled pleasantly, and said, aa she passed into her room, 'Well, I knew nothing of Mr. Meckler's habits, or the rules of tbe house, and could do no less than to deliver his message.' And:then I followed her in, and closed the door.

She met me with a laugh, and a sparkle in her splendid eyes. •The conflict thickens, on ye bra vol' she said. 'Oh, Rachel* it is such sport!'

My poor, unfortunate young lady! My heart bled for her, cursed as she was, I Said to niyself, with the blood of her actress mother.

I managed to be down in the ball, that evening, when Guy Meckler .took his departure. He was full five minutes saying his adieu, and T, standing back in tbe shadow or the stairs, had time to study him Wlllr Tfiilf"M8 Jamison declared him'most handsome.'' He was full six feet in height, and grandly proportioned his hair as black as the r&Ven's wing, and' crisped about bis finely shaped bead, in dose curls a long drooping mustache concealed his mouth, but when he smiled, his whole face lit up as if with sudden sunshine. HIS Cyes, I thought, at first were black but later on, found they were a deep blue, with a peculiar light in their depths, which I haye never seen iq any eyes before or since. Hie Was slofr, and languid, even to laziness, in'movements, and in conversation and those deep blue eyes bad a slow motion, which wa» like fascination. I took a strong liking to the man, then, and there bdt as I told my vonug lady,'that same evenln be would be a dangerous man to trif with. 'He would not, be so apt to shoot, himself,' I safd. 'like youtog Pbnsohb as he'wOufd tie to shtfot the woman who trifled with him. •iranvftodv lis Grace

She looked as

if she would like to begin, ibis evening.' 'Did you do may thing to plague her I asked. 'I Oh, no,' answered niy young Tidy, so innocently. 'I Only set where Mr. Meckler could talk to me, In the pauses of the music, with which Miss Grace made tbe hours melodious and where, when she sang biitt thrilling love songs, becouldtell me, with bis eyes, what wonderful eyes they are, that he appreciated aud understood tbein.'.

It was not long before tbe servants began to whisper amodg themselves, that the masters Frenoh daughter bad bewitched Mr. Meckler, and that Miss Grace waa left to wear tbe willow. Others, too, saw it, among thein Sir Hugh and his wife. They had both conceived the ide» of a-marriage between Guy Meckler and Miss McAllister, and had worked with a view to this, ubtil my young lady came to spoil ali their plans, by a glance of her bewildering eyes. If ever a man was bewitched by a'woman, as tbe servants bad said, that man was Guy Meckler. 'I do say,' cried Jamison to me, one night, as she took her place at the teatable, 'I do say I would scarcely believe my ho wn heyea! Why, Mr. Meckler isno more tbe man 'e was, tftaA banotber being! wot with 'is pale skin a flush)n' wen 'e 'ears 'er voice, aad 'is blue heyes a-flash in', an' a glowin', wen 'e looks arter 'er—an' *is follerin' 'er an' takin' 'er ridin', an' walkln', and spendin' hevenings with

xet—wby,

ma'am, it is no more like that cold ice man of a Guy Meckler, than it Is like a wild Indian. An'we all do sa^ as the black-eyed young mistress tnuat be a witch, to so change a man, as 'as seen so mnch o' life—by a look, as it ^ere.—for ?e 'as not been the same since she entered these doers. A fine match it will be for the young lady, 'an'a sad loss to Miss Grace.'

I said nothing, though in my heari I knew that what with nobility, and titles, and wealth, that hod been laid at my young lady's fleet, in En rope, only to be played with an hour, and forgotten tbia man oould offer ber no now honor, excepting himself yet I thought then, and think .now* he was by far the noblest, and truest, and beet of them a

She readied oat ber beautiful arms, wjtba gesture, ao like ber mother% upon that fateful day, that it, together with the similarity of the words, made my old body turn cold with terror. 1 sat down In ft chair, quite Adnf: bot my yoeng lady passed oot toe room, without noticing my emotion. Poor child, poor child, she bore about with her a ban, placed upon her before her birth bot she did not know.

There was a grand ball gives, soon

0^:

able heart ofi^Guy Meckler.: And a most radiant "creature did tjhiey behold, all olotbed In white silk,jrlchly brocaded, and with no jewehL bait a blood red stone at either ear, aria large one gleaming from the lace upotther bosom. Tfeeri was alight in her darlt b6e that I hid never seen before,, and I did not wonder that every eye was riveted upon her for abe waa like some rare tropical bird, placed In a northern wood—among all those pale and pnny women.

I thlak Gny Meckler never took his eye from her face, the whole night long. He did notstrive to conceal his infatuation, nor attempt to distribute bis attention -among the guests. He seemed content to watch his lady, ai she glided, to and fro, in the dance—she waa a rare danceir, my lady, in her languid, slow war. Bhe maae herself charming to old* and youngs and turned the heads of half tbe gentlemen present.

After the ball, Miss Grace McAllister went away, for the season. It was toot pleasant for her to remain there, and watch the devotion of tbe lovers, and so she paeked her trunks, and left for New York City, to visit some friends.

I was glad when she had gone, for she •was spiteful, and full of mean, petty trloks, of speech and manner, which hurt so much more than blows and she never lost an opportunity to wound my lady.

A more devoted lover, or a more affectionate, womanly sweetheart, I never saw, than those two—Felise and Guy. Though silent with most people, he talked eloquently with Felise. •I would never have believed, I could say such words to any woman,' he would sometimes say. 'No woman ever beard them from me, until you came.'

Then he would ask, man-like: 'Did any man ever say such things to you before, my sweet Did any one ever woo you as I do And she would always answer hlrn, 'Never, Guy, never.' Men always question so, and so women always answer, and both, I ween, are happier for it.

Once I heard her ask him a question, for I often in the next room, sewing, while they were together, and my heart stood still, as I listened for his answer. •What would you do, Guy, were I untrue to you?' This was my lady's question, and hia answfcr came, in hid slow, deliberate tones, 'Do? I should kill you, my sweet.'

I fancied my lady laughed, uneasily. 'You would not commit murder,' she said, 'because one woman, out of a world full, had been unfaithful

I do not know what the world might

the holiest emotions of my soul betrayed, I should feel it a Christian act to rid society of tbe traitor or traitoress. If I heard you listening, aad responding to any man's words of love—if I saw your form enciroled by any arm, not your father's or my own—If I saw your lips kissed, or knew them to have been kiased by another's—I would kill you, Felise, much as I love, kill you all the sooner that I had loved you.'

HIS 10W, even tones, without one trace of excitement, or passion, speaking such dreadful- words so calmly, struck a cold chill to my very heart. I shuddered all over. Feltse's voice quivered, abd she laughed, uneteily, as sne said: .., 'Oh, Guy, how came we to be talking ih this horrible strain? Let ua drop it, at once, dear—I could no more be untrue to you, than you could to me. 1 snail be your laving^ little wife, before five months have rolled over our heads.'

That was in May, and the next week, Miss McAllister came back to Hamilton Hal! looking somewhat jaded with ber winter of dlnlpation, yet seeming very blithe and happy. I made up my mind, at once, that she had won a lover, during her absence. But foyer, or no lover, she was riot so happy, or so changed, that she forgot to be cruel and unkind to my lady. The very first evening, as they all assembled in the drawing-room,

Guy

Meckler amongst them, she took Minstfe describe an adventuress, who had set New York wild for a season, and Closed^ saying, 'She called herself French, but she was so dark and foreign in her appearance, one was left in doubt whether it wss French or African blood that stained her skin, as one often is with that style of lace.' Little bartn did such remarks do any one but the speaker, yet they kept alive the old animosity, which I do believe my lady Felise* would have allowed to die out, bad Bbe been allowed.

Tnree weeks after Miss McAllister's return, came tbe lover I bad expected. He was tall, and handsome, and distinguished looking, with the sunniest hair, the warmest hazel eyes, and the moat winning, frank smile in the world. His name was Fenton Ramsay, and he was a banker's son, and heir to a vast fortune, it was said. Tbe finest dancer, tbe best shot, the boldest rider, tbe most delightful young gentleman, overy wsy, that I had ever seen, excepting, Of course,Guy, fori bad come to think, by this time, that there was nobody like Guy Meckler.

Very proud was Miss Grace to show her prise to tbe inmates of HamHton Hall. The moment I saw him, my heart failed me, for I knew my lady, and I feared that, In revenge, sbe would seek to take him away from Miss McAllister. Bat I wss' greatly relieved when I saw that she scarcely gave him a glance. I felt that, indeed, was. she changed aud purified by love.

He had been *t Hamilton Hall, about a week, the opeuly aeknowled lover of Miss Grace, when, one evening, they

were

sll Wtting out on the wide veraudail. It was moonlight, and I sat, by an open window of my room, alone, dnd heard tbe clear tenor of young Ramsay 's voice, as be addressed Miss McAllister. •Do you remember Rose Mackey, Miss Grace,' be asked, 'the girl those two students fought the duel over, last

•R«ise Mackey? Oh, yes, 1 remember her name, and the affair.

languidly. She goi that Yell-'

•81

He picked the loveliest one of all, and I meant to save it for you—oh, now, I remember, be" placed it in my hair, so I would te sure and keep It separate for you. No thanks, we enjoyed oulling. them.' Then she was back in onr room,, with the old, dangerous light in her eyes.

They played croquet on the lawn, that afternoon, and I sat near and watched it all. Suoh glances as my lady exchanged with young Ramsay! They were enough to make a cooler and more sensible woman wild with jealousy. And MissMcAllister wss too shallow to hide her feelings. She was jealous, and she showed it..

As fate would have It, Guy Meckler,.\ about this time, was called West, on im-

Eim

erative business which Would detain a month, perhaps. Felise was very Btrangely agonized at the parting. She sobbed upon my breast for hours after he left her, moaning, 'why did he go, oh why did he go?' Ajad all night lone she started and moaned in her sleep, like a troubled'chlld. I was Surprised, fori bad not tended she oould care so much for any man,—she had too much of her vain, French mother, you see?

All tbe day following she staid very quietly in her room. But at night, there was tube a grAnd/efe, with Chinese lanturns, and a full band, and my lady arrayed herself for It, but listlessly. 'Guy told me I must go asked me to, as a special favor,'she said. 'But for that, 1 would not leave my room,'

Once in the garden, however, her spirits rose, as they always did, under excitement and! heard ber merry voice and gay laughter, until long after midnight.

She came into me, at last, drooping and wan but the bright light had not left her eyes. 'I am so tired, Rachel, dear,' sbe sighed, 'so tired. Mr. 'Ramsay is such perfect waltzer. I do believe we danced ono hour, without a pause!'

Ah! well, well! why need I describe it all! It was the old Storyi just over and Over again tbe old play I bad seen so many times, and grown so weary of. The game, began to punish ah oflense, and tnen continued from love of it, and tbe excitement and admiration consequent on it.

Fenton R&msaiy fouud, as did most men who came under the spell of thisenchantress, that tbe charms 6f other aud. more beautiful women were, after all, but'as moonlight unto sunlisht,' compared to tbe glory of her dazzling

smile. He found that the bold another woman had upon bis heart snapped, like a thread of lint, before the emotions this dusky faced girl awoke within his breast. One if pllftfea glance' of her splendid eyes, one touch of her thrilling fingers, made him forget maubood, truth, honor, everything. And my lady, Watching the development of this.new passion, reveling in the pleasure of this new excitement, forget for awhile, Guy .Meckler.

It, was a still, August night,.so still tfcbt'ttOt a leaf stirred in'the garden as I Walked up feud down tbe pleasant paths, to dispel a strange restlessness that haf taken hold upon me. The moon shone down in patches, and lighted paths here arid there, while others were all in Bbad^ ow. Suddenly, aal wandered aimlessly about,'I came upon two people, strolling slowly, and ip perfect silence* 1 wss about to pass them when, pausing in.t^he firll light of the moon, the young man, who was no other than Fenton Ramsay, caught hold of the lady's hand, and be-. gan to speak. 'Felise, my love, cried, '£cat: hot keep God help ns both, Feliu.. ... are, but I will say it—I love you—and I believe you love gae.'

1

i, reuieuiDer What Of her?'

married oe off to Burope,

has

4

My dear young lady thought so, too, It seemed for not two months from the day they first met, she came and told me that Guy Meckler bad asked ber to be his wife, and that ebe had consented and tbe marriage was to be tbe following ember. This wss in January, die wants an earlier day,' she said, 'but though I love him dearly—dearly, Racbol, ye| I don't like giving up my girlhood yet and be must wait until mber not a day sooner will I nquish my freedom. It la such a irlous thing. Rachel, to be free free, this great world.*

title, last week, aud In grand style

'Married a title?* There was surprise and acorn, In liu* AioA 11 later*a metallic voice. 'Why, what is society coming to! She was tbe d*(i*bu»r ot an scire**, so I hat heard. I never saw tbe girl—abe was not, of course, In my seW

There was dead silence for a moment, and I knew thoa, as I knew afterward, that Miss McAllister bad sealed her own doom.

The west morning, my lady, contrary to her lunuti custom, was up with the lark. She awoke OS by coming Into iny room, with her bands tall of white roses, all wet with dew. *SeeT she said. 'Are Ibey not lovely? Ibave been down in tbe garden a tail bour, with Mr. Ramsay, culling thees beauties. I must go, and carry them to Miss McAllister.'

I heard ber rapping at Miss Grace's door, a moment later, and calling, in sort dear tonea,

'Open

tbe* door, Gracie

1 have something sweet for you. Th^n tbe door opeced^I heard her add. Me tat Beantiasl Mr. Ramsay aad I have

v6, my life, Felise,' to keep silence ah longer, i, Felise. bound as WON

Sbe did not answer. Her face was turned 4way. A slight sound caused me to turn my head there, by my side, stood Guy Meckler.

He clutohed my arm, as I started at sigbt of him. His potoerfargrasp enforced silence, though b6 never looked at me, or spoke, 'Felise—Felise,' cried the tremulons voice of young Ramsey again, 'only speak to me^-teil ma that am riot mad to love you so wildly. Why,'I would die for you, as you kuow.'

As he. spoke, he slipped bis arm about her drooping figure, And would have drawn ber bead to' bis breast. Whether toy lady would have avowed, or resent* ed this last act, we can never know for there was tha sharp crack of a pistol— then hnother, arid ydbrig Ramsay and my beautiful lady fell together in the moonlight.

I felt my arm dropped* and Guy Meckler strode past me, qhd leaned over the body of Ramsay. 'Dead/ be said, 'quite dead/ And bin voice was calmer than mine, at this mo-, oicnt. f-s

It was tben I threw my*elt, with a terrible shriek, at tbe feet of my lady. 'Hush.' said Guy, sternly, 'you will disturb ner. Sbe is not dead.'

As be spoke, sUe opened her eyes, half raised berielf, looked him full in tbe face, and whispered faintly, bnt oh, so swootly •Ab, Gtiy. was it you, dear? I—had— forgotten—but—I love you, Guy.'

Then sbe fell back in toy tffma, Stone 'dead. ,• I shrieked again, shriek after shriek, until the vyhole household came rushing into the garden with awe-struck faces.

Guy Meckler stood (quietly by tbe dead, wiping bis pistol with his hand. He waited until the last servant, had arrived, ftfaB then iJ6rMlenced the Babel of voice* theories of fainting women, and men roy own shrieks, bytwo words spoken in bTs clear, low voice.-, ,4 'Be Quiet!' he fraid, and there was tbe h^sh of death. 'Let me silence 8ll inquiry over this scene forever. 1 killed Fenton Ramsay, purposely, I killed—that—other purposely. She had forgotten words I once spoke to ber---trifled with her vows— and I killed her—just as I now end my own existence.'

The last word was lost almost, in thereport of the pistol. He fell, without a groan. •Sir Hugh Hamilton went abroad, within a week, with bis family, and they have never returned to the Hal). But 1 stay here, because, strange as It may seem, I prefer it to any other place. People call the place haunted. But I cannot sav. I myself am so much more a ghost of a past, than apart of any present, that I might not notice gbosts and phantoms, as other people would.

Sir Hugh cannot live lonjr, I am told, and I have but one wish, to have him return and die here—when, the last link of my past being severed, I think God, In mercy, would let me follow, ft fat fseitla'a Xlsfertaafc

Some of tbe savage tribes enter their dwellings through a hole in the roof, and when a person becomes so fat that he cannot get in, he la regarded aa an outlaw. Had tbia system Been adopted In tbe United States, the "out-laws" could not have made a more active demand for Allan's Anti-Fat than now exists. Hundreds who have lived in constant fear of sudden death have, by its use, been fiednced to a oomfortable living weight. The Anti-Fat is purely vegetable £nd perfectly harmless. Sold by druggists.