Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 9, Number 19, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 9 November 1878 — Page 6

THE MAI I

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE®

WHICH

iThe foliawing i» olo, but It will always toe good. It u*U« Its owu story, a*d a beautiful oie It lit, too-to be read best, aad sounding *wet*U^»t vheD the family circle have gathmtl around the evening lamp perhaps. It cannot but teuch a fatber's-a mother'* heart, an1 make them appreciate the inorv tbelr household darling*.]

"Which Mhall It be Whleh Khali It bet" 1 looked at John John looked at me, (Dear patient John, who love* me yet, A* W'Tl a* though my lo-ks were Jot) Ana when 1 roand that 1 niuct speak. wut'u IWMUM •*rv~-» Mv voice ttceracd »tranmly low and woak, ••Tell roe again what Howrt mild And then F, llnt'nlng, b*nt my bead,. •This 1M the letter "1 will give

ff,house

and land while you shall live

In return from out your *T ven. One child to me for aye 1h given."

I looked at John's old earmr nts worn I thought of all that John had borne Of poverty, and work, and care. Which 1, though willing, could not afcare I thought of seven mouths to f«ed, Of sev«n little children's need, And then of th "Come, John," said I "We'll cbosse among them as thev lie AsleepHO. walking hand in hand, Pear John and 1 purveyed our baud, Flint to the cradle Ikluly epped, Where Lillian, -he babv, slept, Her flaxen hair In ringlets light A glor% 'gainst iheplil white, Boftly her father stooped, to lny Hterough baud down its loving.way. When dream or whisper made her stir, And bus telly be said," ^ot her—not her.' We stood beside the trundle bed. And one long ray of lamplight shed Athwart the bo lsh fac«s there, Jn sleep so pitiful and fair I saw on Jamie's rough red cheek A Ui*r uudrled. Kre John could sp«ak— "He's but a baby, too," said I, And kissed him as we hurried by. Pale, patient Boble's ang I race Mtill in his sleep ire sult'cring's tract).

MNo,

for a thousand crowus, not him," He wbispored, while our eyes were dim. Toor DicS bad Dick our wayward son, Turbulent, reckless, idie one— Iftuld he be spared "Nay, he who gave. Bids us befrieHd him to the grave •*. Only a mother's beat can be 4. Patient enough for such us be." "And so," said John,' I would not dare To s$ad him from her bedside prayer." Then stole we softly up above. And kneilby ilary, child of Jove. "Perhaps 'or her 'twould letter be, Bald I to John. Quito silently He lilted up a curl that lay Acrois her cheek in willlol way, And sn' ok his bead. "Nay, love, not thee," The while my heart beat audibly. Duly one more, our eldest lad Trusty and faltbful, good and glad— Po like his father "No. John, no— 1 caano', will not let him go." Awd so we wroU» in courteous way. We would not give one child away: And af.erward toll lighter seemed. Think lng of thai of which we dreamed, Happy, in truth, that not one face We misled from its accustomed place Thankful to work for all the seven. T-af'tog the rest to One iu Heaven.

The Haunted Hotel

OR,

A Mystery of Modern Venice.

BY WILKIB COLLINS.

I" The Haunted Hotel," Wilfeie Oollins's ka.it and best story, was commenced In The Mall, August 2i, 1878-Vol. 9, No. 9. Back •umbt H, Ave cents each, ean be had at The Hall office, or of news agents In this city •nd neighboring towns.]

CHAPTER XXIV.

Henry and Agnes were left alone in the Room oJ the Caryatides. The person who had written the description of the palace—probably a poor author or artist—bad oorrectly pointed Oat tbe defects of tbe mantelpiece. Bad taste, exhibiting itself on the most cost

and splendid scale, was visible in every part of tbe work. It was nevertheless greatly admired by the ignorant travelers of all classes partly on account Of ita imposing size, and partly on account of the number of variously colored marbles which the sculptor had contrived to introduce into his design. Photographs of tbe mantelpiece were exhibited in the public rooms, finding ready •ale among English and American visitors to the hotel.

Henry led Agnes to the figure on the left, as th(y stood facing tbe empty fireplace. 'shall I try the experiment,' be asked, •or will you!'

She abruptly drew her arm away from birn, and turned back to the door. *1 can't even look at it,'she said. 'That merciless marble face frightens met'

Henry put his hand on the forehead of Iho figure. 'What is there to alarm you, my dear, in this conventionally classical lace?' he asked, jestingly.

Before he could press the head inwards Agnes hurriedly opened the door. 'Wait till I em out of the room!' she tried. 'The bare idea «»t what you may find ther horrifies me!' She looked back into the room as she crossed tbe thresh hold. 'I wont leave you altogether,' she said 'I will wait outside,'

Khe closed the door. Left by himself, Henry lifted his hand once more to the marble forehead of tbe figure.

For the second time ho was checked

£aetbe

point of setting the machinery of biding place in motiou. On this occasion, tbe interruption came from an outbreak of friendly voioes iu the corridor. A woman's voice exclaimed 'Deare«t Agnes, how glad I am to see you again!'

A man's voice followed, offering to introduce some friend to '.Miss Lock* wood.'

A third voice (which Henry recognised as tbe voice of the manager of the hotel) became audible next, directing tbe housekeeper to show the ladies and gentlemen tbe vacant apartments at the other end of tbe corridor. 'If more accommodation is wanted,' tbe manager went on, 'I have a charming room To let here/

He opened tbe door aa he spoke and found himself face to faoc with lienry Westwick. 'This Is indeed an agreeable surprise, fir,'Raid the manager, cheerfolly. 'Yon •re admiring our famous ehlmneyplece, I see. May I ask, Mr. Westwick, bow yon And yourself in the hotel this time? Have the supernatural influence* affect* 4d your appetite again?' 'Tbe enpernatural influence* have {pared me this time,' Henry answered. ^Perhaps you may yet find that they have affected some other member of toe family.'

He spoke gravely, resenting tbe familiar tone in whiota tbe manager bad •starred to his previous viait to tbe ho* leL 'Have yon just returned?' Henry aaktd. by was of cbangiug the topic. 'Just this minute, sir. I baa tbe honor tTtrareflng in the same train with mmo! fiends of your* who bave arrived at tbe total—Mr. and Mrs. Arthur BarvUSe ilB their traveling companion*. Miss

Lo-kwood is with them, looking at the rooms. They will be here before long If they And it convenient to hate au extra room at their disposal

This aunoncemeut decided Henry-on exploring the hiding place before the interruption occurred. It bad orossed his tniud, when Agnea left him, that be ought perhaps to bave a witness in the not very probable event of some alarm ing discovery taking place, Tbe too familiar manager, suspecting nothing, was there at his disposal. He turned again to the Caryan figure, maliciously resolving to made the manager hia witness. 'I am delighted to bear that our friends bave arrived at last,' he said. 'Before I shake bands with them, let me ask you a question about this queer work of art here. I see photographs of it down staira. Are they for sale?' 'Certainly, Mr. Weetwick.' 'Doyon tbiuk the obtmneyplece is aa solid a* it looks?' Henry proceeded. •When you came in I wasju»t wonder lng whether this figure here had not accidentally got loosened from the wall behind it.' He laid hia hand on tbe marble forehead for tbe third time. 'To my eye it looks a little out of tbe perpendicular. I almost fancied I could jog the head just now when I touohed it.' He pressed the head Inwards those words. '\r

A sound of jarring Iron was Instantly audible beblni the wall. The solid hearthstone in front of the *fireplaoe turned slowly at the feet of the two men, and disclosed a dark cavity below. At the same moment tbe strange and sickening combination of odors, hitherto associated with the vaults of the old palace and with the bedchamber beneath, now floated up from tbe open reeossand filled the room.

The manager started. 'Good God, Mr. Weetwlokl' he exclaimed, 'what does this mean?'

Remembering, not only what' his brother Francis bad felt in tbe room beueath, but the experience of Agnes had been on tbe previous night, Henry was determined to be on his guard. 'lamas much surprised as you are,' was the manager's only reply. 'Wait for me one moment, sir,' sa'.d manager. 'I must stop the ladies and gentlemen outside Irorn ooming in.'

He hurried away—not forgetting to close the door after him. Henry opened tbe window, and waited there breathing tbe purer air. Vague apprehensions of the next disoovery to oome filled- bis mind for tbe first time. He was doubly resolved not not to stir a step iu the investigation without a witness.

The manager returned with a wax taper in his hand, which he lighted as soon as he entered the room. •We need fear no interruption now,' be tfaid. 'Be so kind, Mr. W estwick, as to hold the light. It is my .business to find out what this extraordinary discovery means.'

Henry held the taper. Looking into tbe cavity, by the dim and fiiokering light, they both detected a dark object at tbe bottom of it. 'Ithink lean reach the thing,' tbe manager remarked, 'if I He down and put my hand into the hole.'

He knelt on the floor—and hesitated. 'Might I ask you, sir, to give me my glovee?' he said. 'They are in my hat, on the chair behind you.'

Henry gave him the gloves. '1 don't know what 1 may be going to t-ake bold of,' tbe manager explained, smiling rather uneasily, as he put on his right glove.

He stretched himself at full length on tbe floor and passed hia right arm into the cavity. •I can't exaotly say what I have got hold of,' he said. 'But I have got it.'

Half raising himself he drew his band out. The next instant he started to his feet with a shriek of terror. A human head dsopped from his nerveless grasp on the floor and rolled to Henry's feet. It was the hideous head that Agnes had seen hovering above her in tbe vision of the night!

The two men looked at each other, both struck speechless by the same emotion of horror. The manager was tbe first to control himself. 'See to the door, for God's sake!' he said. 'Some of the people outside may bave heard me.'

Henry moved mechanically to the door. Even when he had his hand on the key, ready to turn it in the look in oase of necessity, he still looked back at the appalling object on the floor.

There was no possibility of identifying those decayea and distorted features with any living creatures whom he had seeu—and yet ne was conscious of feeling a vague and awful doabbt which shook him to the soul. The questions which bad tortured the mind of Agnes were now his questions too. He asked himself: 'In whose likeness might I have rec ognized it before tbe decay set in? The likeness cf Ferrari or the likenessof—?'

He paused trembling, as Agnes had paused trembling before him. Agnea! The name, of all women's names the dearest to him, was a terror to him now! What was he to say to her? What might bo the consequence if he trusted her with the terrible truth

No footsteps approached the door no voices were audible outside. The travelers were still occupied in the rooms at the eastern end of the corridor.

Iu the brief interval that had passed, the manager bad sufficiently reoovered himself to be able to think once more of the first and foremost interest of his life —the interest of tbe hotel. He approached Henry anxiously. •If this frightful disoovery becomes known,' he said, 'the closing of the hotel and tbe ruin of the company will be tbe inevitable results. 1 feel sure that I can trust your discretion, sir, so far!' •You can certainly trust me,' Henry answered. 'But surely discretion has its limits,' he added, 'after such a discovery as we bave made?'

rrhe

manager understood that the duty which they owed to tbe community as honest and law abiding men was tbe duty to which Henry now referred. 'I will at once find tbe means/ be said, 'of conveying the remains privately out of the bouse, and I will myself place them in tbe (are of the police authorities. Will you leave the room with me? or do you not object to keep watch here, and help me when I return?'

While be was speaking, the voices of the travelers mad© themselves heard again at tbe end-of tbe corridor. Henry instantly consented to wait in the room. He shrank from lacing the Inevitable meeting with Agnes if he showed him* seif in tbe corridor at that moment.

Hie manager hastened his departure In tbe hope of escaping notloe. He was discovered by his guests before be oould reach the head of the stair*. Henry beard the reices plainly as be turned tbe key.

While the terrible drama of discovery was in progress on ono side of tbs door, trivial questions about the amusements of Venice and facetious discussions on' the relative merits of French and Italian: cookery were proceeding on tbe other, little by little the sound of the tellclng» grew fainter.

Tbe vial tors, having arranged tbelr« plans of amusement for the day, were!

iStsStlif

i-''?

rERRE HAIJTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

on tbelr way oujj of the hotel. In a minute ir two there was alienee ones more. Henry turned to the window, thinking to mliavw his mind by looking at tbe bright view over the canal. He soon grew weary of the familiar scene. The morbid fascination which eeems to be exercised by all horrible sights drew him hack again to tbe ghastly object on tbe floor.

Dream or reality, how bad Agnes survived tbe eight or it? As tbe question passed through bis mind he notioed for tbe first time something lying on the floor nesr the head. Looking oloser he perceived thin little plate of gold, with three false teeth attaohed to it, which had apparently dropped ont (loosened by tbe shock, when the manager let the head fall on tbe floor.

The importance of thia dlseovery and the neoesaity of not too readily communicating to others instantly struok Henry. Here surely waa a chat oe—if any chanoe remained—of identifying the allocking relioor humanity which lay before him, tbe dumb witness of a crime! Acting on this idea, he took possesion of tbe teetb, purposing to use them as a last means of inquiry when other attempts of investigstlon had been tried aud bad failed.

He went baok again to the window. The solitude of tbe room began to weigh on his spirits. As he looked out again at tbe view there was as^rt knock at tbe door. He hastened to open It—snd then checked himself in the act. A doubt occurred to bim. Was it tbe manager who bad knocked? He called out: 'Who's there?'

The voice of Agnes answered himrt 'Have you anything to tell me, Henry?'

He was hardly able to reply. 'Not just now,' he said, confusedly. 'Forgive me if I don't open tbe door. I will speak to you a little later.'

The sweet voioe made itself heard again, this time plesding plteously with bim •Don't leave me alone, Henry! I can't go back to the happy people down stsirs again.'

How could he resist that appeal He heard the rustling of ber dress as she moved away in despair. Tbe very thing that he had shrunk from doing but a few minutes since, was the thing that be did now. He joined Agnes In the corridor. Shd turned as she heard him and pointed trembling In the direction of tbe closed room. 'Is it ao terrible as that?' she asked, faintly.

He pnt bis arm around ber to support her. A thought came to him as he looked at ber, waiting in doubt and fear for bis reply. •You Bhall know all that I can tell you,' be said, 'if you will first put your hat and coat on and come out with me.'

She was naturally surprised. •Have you any objeot in going out?'

He owned what his object was unre served ly. •I want before all things,' he said, 'to satisfy your miud and mine on tbe sub jectof Montbarry's death. I am going to take you to the doctor who attended bim in his illness and to the consul who followed him to the grave.'

Her eyes rested on Henry gratefully. •Oh, how well you understand me!'

The manager joined them at the same moment, on bis way up the stairs. Heury gave bim the key of the room, and tben called to tbe servsnts in tbe ball to have a gondola ready at the steps. •Are you going out?' tbe manager

•In search of evidence,' Henry whispered, pointing to the key. 'If the authorities want me I shall be back in an hoar.'

CHAPTER XXV.

The day had advanced to evening. Lord Montbarry and the bridal party bad gone to the opera. Agnes alone, pleading the excuse of fatigue, remained at tbe hotel. Having kept up appearance by acsotnpanyiug bis friends to the theater, Henry Westwick slipped away after the first act and joined Agnes in the drawing room. 'Have you thought of what I said to you earlier in the day?' be asked, taking a chair at ber side. 'Do you agree with me that tbe one dreadful doubt which oppressed us both is at last set at rpst?'

Agnes shook her head sadly. 'IwiBh I could agree with you, Henry I wish I could honestly say that my mind is at ease.'

The answer would have disoouraged most men. Henry's patience (where Agnes was concerned) was equal to any demauds on it. 'If you will only look back at the events of the day,' he said, 'you must surely admit thst we bave not been completely baffled. Remember bow Dr. Bruno disposed of our doubts: "After thirty years of medical practice you think 1 am likely to mistake tbe symptoms of death by bronohitis?" II ever there was an unanswerable question there it Is! Was the consul's testimony doubtful in an}* part of it? He called at tbe palace to offer his services, after hearing of Lord Montbarry's death he arrived at tbe time when tbe oofflu was in the house he himself saw the corpse placed in it, and the lid screwed down.

The evidence of the priest was equally beyond dispute. He remained in the room with the coffin, rociting the prayers of tbe dead, until the funeral left the palace. Bear all these statements in mind, Agnes and how can you deny that the question of Montbarry's death and burial is a question set at rest? We have really but one doubt left we have still to ask ourselves whether the remains which I discovered are the remains of the lost courier or not. There is the case, as I understand it. Have I stated tho case fairly?'

Agnes could not deny that he had stated it fairly. Then what prevents you from ex~

rfeel

riencing

the same sense of relief that Henry asked. •What I saw last nigbt prevents me,' Agnes answered, 'when we spoke of tbe subject, after our Inquiries were over, you reproached me with taking what you nailed the superstitious view. 1 don't quite admit that, but I do acknowledge that I should find the superstitions view Intelligible if I beard it expressed by some other person. Remembering what your brother and I once were to each other In tbe bygone time, I can understand tbe apparition making itself visible to Me, to claim the mercy of Christian burial and the venveance due to a crime. I can even perceive some faint possibility of truth in tbe explanation which yon described as tbe mesmeric theory that what I saw might be tbe result of magnetic Influence communicated to me a* lay between tbe remains of the murdered husband above me snd tbe guilty wife suffering tbe tortures of remorse at my bedside. But what I do not understand Is that I should have that dreadful ordeal bav knowledge of tho murdt— lifetime, or only knowing hiin (If yon suppose that I saw the apparition of Ferrari) through the interest which I took In his wife. I cant dispute the reasoning, Henry. Bat I feel in my heart of hearts that yoa are deceived. Nothing will shake my belief that tra

are as far from having dlicovered tbe dreadful truth aa ever.' Henry made no further attempt to dispute with her. She bad Impressed bim with a oertaln reluotaut respect for ber own opinion, In spite of himself.

Have you thought of any uetter way of arriving at tbe truth?' be asked. 'Who is to help us? No doubt there is tbe Countess, who hss tbe elne to the mys tery in her own bands. But, iu tbe pvs ent stste of her mind, Is her testimony to be trusted—even if she were willing to speak? Judging by my own experience, I should say not.'. •You don't mean that you have seen ber again!' Agnes eagerly Interposed. •Yes. I had half an hour to spare be fore dinner aud I disturbed ber once more over ber endless writing,' •And you told her what you found when you opened the hiding place?' •Of oourae I did!' Henry replied.

said, In HO many word#, that I beld nor responsible for the discovery, snd tbat I expected her to revesl tbe whole truth. She went on with her writing as If I had spoken in an unknown tongne. I waa equally obstinate on my side. I told her plsinly that tbe head bad been placed under tbe care of the police, and that tbe manager and I bad signed our deolsrstions snd giver, our evidence. She psid not the slightest heed to me. By way of tempting her to spesk, I added that tbe whole Investigation was to be kept a secret, and that she might depend on my discretion. For the moment I thought I had succeeded. She looked up from ber writing with iwss ing fl-tsh of curiosity and said, "What are they going to do with It?" meanin I suppose, tbe besd. I snswered tbst was to be privately buried, after photographs of it had first been taken. I even went tbe length of*communicating the opinion of the surgeon consulted, tbst some chemical means of arresting decomposition had been used, snd baa only partially suoceeded, and I asked her point blank it tbe surgeon was right. The trap was not a bad one, but it completely failed. She said in the coolest manner, "Now you are here, I should like to consult you about my play I am at a loss for Some new inoidents." Mind! there was nothing eatirical in this. She was really eager to read her wonderful work to me—evidently supposing that I took a special interest in snob things becanse my brother is tbe msnsger of a theater! I left ber, making the first ex•cuse that occurred to me. So far as I am concerned, I can do nothing with ber. But it I" possible that your influence may succeed with her again, aa it has succeeded already. Will you make the attempt, to satisfy your own mind? She is still upstsirs, and I am quite ready to accompany you.'

"fi

Agnes shuddered at tbe bare surges tion of another interview with tbe Countess. 'I can't! I daren't!' she exclaimed. 'After what has happened in that horrible room she is more repellant to me than ever. Don't ask me to do it, Henry! Feel my hand—you have turned me as cold as death only with talking of it!'

She was not exaggerating the terror that possessed her. Henry hastened to change the subject. 'Let us talk of something more inter esting,' be said. I bave a question to ask you about yourself. Am I right in believing that the sooner you get away from Venir» the happier you will be?' 'Right?' she repeated excitedly. 'You are mere thaq right! No words cau say how I long to be away from this horrible place. But you know how I am situated—you heard wbat Lord Montbarry said at dinner time?' 'Suppose he has altered bis plans since dinner time?' Henry suggested.

Agnes looked surprised. 'I thought he received letters from England which obliged him to leave Venice to-morrow,' she said. 'Quite true,' Henry admitted. 'H bad arranged to start for England tomorrow, and to leave you and Lady Montbarry and the children to enjoy your holiday in Venice under my care. Circumstances have occurred, however, which have forced bim to alter bis plans. He must take you all baok with bim to-morrow, because I am not able to assume the charge of you. I am obliged to give up my holiday in Italy and return to England, too.'

Agnes looked at him in some little perplexity she was not quite sure whether she understood him or not. .'Are you really obliged to give up your holiday and go baok she asked.

Henry smiled as he answered her. 'Keep the secret,'he said, 'or Montbarry will never forgive me!'

She read tbe rest in hiB face. 'Oh! she exclaimed, blushing brightly, 'you bave not given up your pleasant holiday in Italy on my acoount?' •I shall go back with you to England, Agnes. That will be holiday enough for m«.'

She took his hand in an irrepressible outburst of gratitude. 'How good yon are to me!' she murmured tenderly. 'Wbat should I have done in the troubles that have come to me, without your sympathy? I can't tell you, Henry, how I feel your kindness.'

She tried impulsively to lift his hand to her lips. He gently stopped her. 'Agnes,' lie said, 'are you beginning to understand how truly I love you

Tbe simple question found its own way to her heart. She owned the whole truth, without saying a word. 8he looked at him—ana then looked away again.

He drew her to his bosom. 'My own darling!' be whispered—snd then kissed her. Softly and tremulously the sweet lips lingered and touched bis lips in return. Tben her bead drooped. She put ber arms round his neck and hid her face in his bosom. They spoke no more.

Tbe charmed silence had lasted but a little while, when It was meroilessly broken by a knock at the door.

Agnes started to ber feet. She placed herself at the piano the instrument being opposite to tho door, it was impossible, when she seated herself at tbe music stool, for any person entering tbe room to see her face. Henry called out irritably,'Come in.'

Tbe door waa not opened. Tbe person on the other side of it asked a strange question. •Is Mr. Henry Westwick alone?'

Agnes Instantly recognized tbe voice of the Countess. She hurried to a second door, which communicated with one of the bedrooms. 'Don't let her oome near me!' she whispered nervously. 'Good nigbt, Henry! goodnight!'

If Henry oould, by an efiort of bis will, have transported tbe Countess to the uttermost ends of the earth, be would have made tbe effort without remorse. As It was, he only repealed, more irritably than ever, 'Come in.' 8be entered tbe room slowly with her everlasting manuscript in her band. Her step was unsteady a dark flush appeared on her face, in plaoe of Its customary pallor her eyes were bloodshot and widely dilated. In approaching Henry she showed a strange Incapacity of calculating ber distances—she struok against the table near which be happened to be sitting. When she •poke, her articulation was confused, and her pronunciation of some of the longer words was hardly Intelligible.

Most men would have suspected ber of being under tbe Influence of some Intoxicating liquor. Henry was a keen observer. He said, as be placed a chair for her, 'Countess, I am afraid you bave oeen working too bard you look aB if you needed rest.'

She put ber hand to her head. 'My invention is all gone,' she said. 'I can't write my fourth act. It's all a blankall a blank!'

Henry advised ber to wait until tbe next day. 'Go to bed,' he sugges.ed, 'and try to sleep.'

She wsved ber hand impatiently. 'I must finish tbe play,' she answered. 'I only waut a niut from yoa. You must know something about plays. Yoor brother baa got a theatre. You must often bave beard bim talk about fourth and fifth acts—you must hsve seen rehearsals, and all tbe rest of it' She abruptly thrust the manuscript into Henry's bands. 'I can't read it to you,' she said 'I feet guilty when I look at my own writing. Just run your eye over it, there's a good fellow—and give me a hint.'

Henry glanced at the manusoript. He happened to look at the list of tbe per sons of the dra*ua. As be read the list be started and turned abruptly to tbe Countess, Intending to ask ber for some explanation. Tbe words were suspended on bis lips. It was but too plainly useless to speak to ber. Her bead lay back on the upper rail of tbe cbair. 8be seemed to be half asleep already. The flush on ber face deepened sbe looked like a woman who was in danger of having a fit.

He rang tbe bell and directed tbe man who answered it to send one of the chambermaids up stairs. His voioe seemed to partially rouse tbe Countess sbe opened ber eyes in a slow drowsy way. 'Have you read it she asked.

It wai necessary ss a mere act of humanity to bninor ber. 'I will read it willingly,' said Henry, 'if you will go up stairs to bed. Yon shall near what I think about it to morrow morning. Our heads will beclesrer, we shall be better able to make tbe fourth act in the morn* ing.'

The chambermaid came in while he speaking. 'I am afraid the lady is ill,' Henry whispered. 'Take her up to her room.' The woman looked at the Countess and whispered back, 'Shall we send for a doctor?'

Henry advised taking her np stairs first, and then asking the manager's advice. There was great difficulty in persuading ber to rise and accept the support of the chambermaid's arm. It was only by reiterated promises to read the play that nigbt, and to make tbe fourth act in tne morning, that Henry prevailed on the Countess to return to her room.

Left to himself be began to feel acer tain languid curiosity in relation to tbe manuscript. He looked over the pages, reading a line here, and looked up from the manusoript like a man bewildered. 'GoodGJd! wbat does this mean?' be said to himself.

His eyes turned nervously to the door by which Agnes had left bim. She might return to the drawing room she might want to Bee what the Countess had written. He looked back again at the passage which had startled him— considered with himself for a moment —r.nd suddenly and softly left the room.

CHAPTER

'Allow me, dear Mr. Francis West wick, to introduce to you the persons In my proposed play. Behold them, arranged symmetrically in a line. •My Lord. Tbe Baron. Tbe Courier. Tbe Doctor. The Countess. 'I don't trouble myself, you see, to invent fictitious family names. My characters are sufficiently distinguished by their titles, and by the striking contrast which they present one with another. •The First Act opens— •No! Before I open the First Act I must annonnoe, in justioe to myself, that this Play is entirely the work of rov own invention. I sooru to borrow from actual events and, wbat is more extraordinary still, I have not stolen one of my ideas from the Modern French drama. As the manager of an English theatre, you will naturally refuse to believe me. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters—except the opening or my first act.' 'We are at Hombnrg, in the famous Salon d'Or, at the height of the season. The Countess (exquisitely dressed) is seated at tbe green table. Strangers of all nations are standing, behind the players, venturing their money or only looking on. My Lord is among the stranRora. He Is struck by the Couutess personal appearance, in which beauties and defects are fantastlcially mingled in the most attractive manner. He watehes tbe Countess' game, and places his money where he sees her deposit her own little stake. She looks round at him and says, 'Don't trust to my color I have been unlucky the whole evening. Place your money on the other color and you may bave a cbance of winning.' My Lord (a true Englishman) bluthes, bows and obeys. The Countess proves a true prophet. She loses again. My Lord wins twice tbe sum he has risked.

The Countess rises from the table. Sbe has no more money, and she offers My Lord her cbalr. 'Instead of taking it, he politely places his winnings In her hand, and begs ber to accept the loan as a favor to himself. Tbe Countess stakes again, and loses again. My Lord smiles superbly, and presses a second loan on ber. From that moment ber luck turns. She wins, and wins largely. Her brother, the Baron, trying his fortune in another room, hears of wbat is going on, and joins my Lord and tho Countess. 'Pay attention, if you please, to the Baron. He is delineated as a remarkable and Interesting character. •This noble person has begun life with •single minded devotion to tbe science of experimental chemistry, very surprising In a young and handsome man with a brilliant futnre before bim. A profound knowledge of tbe oocult sciences has persuaded tbe Baron that It is possible to solve tbe famous problem, called the "Philosopher's Stone.' His own pecuniary resources bave long since been exhausted by bis eostly experiments. His sister has next supplied him with tbe small fortnne at ber disposal, reserving only the family jewels, placed In charge of her banker and friend at Frankfort. The Countess' fortune also being swallowed up, the Baron has in a fatal moment sought for new supplies at the gaming table. He proves, •t starting on bis perilous career, to be a favorite of fortune wins largely, and, •liis! profanes bis noble enthusiasm for science by yielding his soul to the all debasing paaston of the gamester,'

'Attbe period of the Plav the Baron's good fortune has deserted him. He sees his way t» a crowning experiment in the fatal nearoh after the secret of transmuting the baser metals into gold. But how is be to pay the preliminary expenses? Destinv, like a mocking echo, answers,

How?'' 'Will his sister's winnings (with my Lord's money) prove large enough to help btm? Eager tor this result, he gives tbe Countess his advice how to lay. From that disastrous moment tbe ntection of his own adverse fortune spreads to his sister. She loses again and again—Loses to the last farthing. 'The amiable and wealthy Lord offers a third loan, but tbe scrupulous Countess positively refuses to take it. On leaving the table she presents ber brother to my Lord. The gentlemen fall into pleasant talk. My (ord asks leave to pay bis respects to the Countess the next morning at ber hotel. Tbe Baron hospitably invites bim to breakfast. My Lord accepts, with a last admiring glanoe at the Countess, which does not escape her brother's observation, and takes bis leave for the night. 'Alone with his sister, the Bsron speaks out plainly. "Our affairs," he says, "are in a desperate condition, and must find a desperate remedy. Wait for me here while I make inquiries about my Lord. You bave evidently produced a strong impression on bim. Ir we can tnrn that Impression into money, no matter at wbat sacrifice, the thing must be done.'" (TO BB OOCTINCKD.]

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XXVI.

Entering his own room on tbe upper floor, Henry placed the manuscript on bis table, open at the first leaf, His nerves were unquestionably shaken his hands trembled as be turned tbe pages, he started at chance noises on the staircase of the hotel.

The scenario, or outline, of tbe Conn tess's play began with no formal prefo tory phrases. She presented herself and her work with the easy familiarty of an old friend.

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