Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 14, Number 32, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 2 February 1884 — Page 2

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THE MAIL

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

TEttKE HAUTE, FEB. 2, 1884.

Emily Lennox in Godey.

C"\.,

Wedded to Misery.

CHAPTER V.

THEY MKT BY CHAXCE

Mi«s Lois Langley sat in ber pretty boudoir toasting her dainty feet on the brass fender.

Tbe room was famished throughout in the Japanese style. Tbe soft, pliant matting on the floor was literally covered with embroidered rugs, tbe walls were hung with rich flowered silk, and the lacquered furniture shown with gilded storks and bamboo leaves. Scattered about on tbe mantel, cabinet and tables wore rare pieces of bric-a-brac—exquisite porcelain, carved ivory and wood, brilliant fans, cnriously wrought metal and wonderful needlework.

It was perfect treasure house of Japanese art, and it bad cost a small fortune.

Lois jumped up as she heard the front door close. Dr. Langely ran down the steps, entered his coupe and drove off. "Tnere! He's gone, Toinette!" she cried, clapping her hands in childish glee. "Get me my dolman and hat." "Oh, Miss Lois her maid exclaimed in unaffected horror. "You are not going out alone at this hour of the nigbi!"' "Indeed. I am!" retorted the wilful little beainty, shaking out ber skirts saucily.

"You

•a •y

1 delS

tones, rnal.

W^The

needn't look so shocked

Toinette. It's only eight o'clock, and its very different here from what it Is in Paris, where a girl daren't put her nose out of the door after vespers, and hardly daro walk uuattended in broad daylight!" "But it so daric and stormy," the maid remonstrated. "There is hardly any one on the street, and—" "So much tbe better! It would be a terrible shock to propriety if I met any one whom I knew!"

She laughed gayly, and went to the mirror to adjust her jaunty hat. "Don't say another word, Toinette she cried, as her maid was about to utter another remonstrance. "I am going. There is no use talkiug about it! 1 don't want Uncle Ellis to know, and there's no other way to do it. Come now—• there's a good Toinette !—don't say anything more about it."

She buttoned her sealskin dolman about her and fluttered out of the room. "Good-bye!" she called gayly from the staircase. "I won't be gone more than an hour."

It was indeed a dark, stormy night. It bad begun to snow, and tbe wind was piling white drifts on tbe sidewalk.

As Lois descended tbe steps of Dr. Langely's elegant brown stone mansion she felt a little nervous, in spite of her stout defense of the undertaking. "1 will walk very fast," she observed glancing up and down the Avenue, not without shrinking from its gloom and solitude.

Then stepping down upon tbe pavement, she put her words into executiou. Her journey was to Argent and Orr's tbe jewelry store in Union Square, where she wished to purchase secretly a Christmas gift for ber uncle.

She reached her destination in safety, and, with quickened steps, turned her JteQjft.bQinfl»Ard, bearing her littlo package under ber arm.

She was thinking how she would tease ber uncle with a tale of this exploit, When fudckinly «b» stopped. "WbsTthey only gave

ten dollars

in change!" sho exclaimed, feeling for her pocket book. "I was iu such a hurry I never thought of it's being wrong."

She walked on to the next gas lamp, and drew out a little sealskin satobel, emptying several gold pieces into^ her

haud" anti running over the bills tucked away in aside pocket. "Ten—fiftoen—twenty-five—forty-five

in aside poe -„n—fiftoen—t

fifty—sixty—sixty-five—why,

I ought to

have eighty dollars! That was very careless of Mr. Argent." She turned reluctantly and started back to Union Square but before she had walked a blook she heard a step behind her. "You're in need of an escort, Miss," said a muu's voice in her ear, "May I have the honor?"

Lois' heart gave a wild bound of terror, as she felt a ruffian band on her arm, and a towering form thrust itself in front of

^For a moment she was absolutely speechless with fright, Then a shril scream arose to her lips, but it was stifled by a hand clapped quickly over ber mouth.)! «... "Not a word, or you'll

Buffer

for it! a

brutal voice hissed in her ear. "Your purse, my little beauty I'll take charge of all that money."

Lois had two portemonnaies—the one containing the bills and another little one in which she kept car tickets and small

^Ajnfdden inspiration came to her, and she drew this last from her pocket. Tbe man clutched It greedily, and iu doing so loosened l»ls hold on her arm.

With a frantic movement, Lois wreuched her sleeve from his grasp, and away she sped like a deer.

But in a moment her rush was discovered. She heard a cry of baffled rage, then a deep oath and tbe sound of ringing footsteps told her she was pursued.

On she sped, panting and pale with terror, while every momeut shortened the distance between her and her pur-

8UShe

looked up wildly at the gloomy ramparts of brown stone on either side of the street, but not a sign of life was visible anywhere. All was shrouded in that peculiar gloom which hovers a fash ionable quarter, where inside shutters and lieavy curtains shut off every particle of light, and leave the outside world to sombre solitude. ••Help!" was the agonised cry that burst from Lois' lips but ere she had uttered It, she was caught up In a man arms and forcibly held there. "Let me go!"

she

The tone in which those nerrled ques tions were put, and th© which she was held, calmed her a little.

She looked up, and saw that she bad encountered gentleman. O, air!" she cried, clinging to the arm from which she had at arattried to extricate herself. "Save me Save me from that awful man 1"

Lois' pursuer now. came op to tbem and, trusting her behind him, tbe gentleman leaped at tbe ruffian's throat.

The assaalt was so wholly unexpected tint tbe shock of the sudden concussion

the earth. "Rap on the curbatone!" the gentle-

He took her band and tried to see ber face clearly, but could not. "There is no occasion for gratitude," he said, with tbe utmost courtesy. "I am only too happy to have been of service." ««I—it was very imprudent for me to come out alone, she said in an embarrassed way, for she felt that he must think her presence iu tbe street alone at that hour peculiar, to say the least. "New York is not the safest place in the world for a nocturnal ramble," be saidi a voice whose accents rang pleasantly in Lois'car. "I came out for a Christmas present," she explained. "It was for my uncle, and I didn't want him to know when I bought it."

The gentleman bowed politely, but in rather a cold way, as though he would not have required any explanation at her hands. "If it is agreesble to you," he said, "I will walk home with you." "Oh, you are very kind she cried, as be offered ber bis arm, and together they made their way to Dr. Langley's door.

At the foot of a long flight of brown stone steps were twp gas lamps that shone biigbtly through the surrounding dftrko688»

As Lois turned, and held out her hand to him ere they separated, the light fell full upon her lovely face, and her companion started with a smothered ejaculation on bis lips. '•Mv uncles name is Dr. ElLs Langley,"she said, with a simplicity that was one of her chief charms. "You must give him an opportunity of ttanking you in person."

The gentleman bowed, and, as with striking courtesy he stood, for a moment with his head uncovered, Lois' romantic little heart thrilled within her breast.

He was tbe handsomest man she had ever seen. "Good night," he said, as he put into her hand a visiting-card. "I hope you may suffer no ill effects from your fright, Miss Langley."

As he disappeared from the street, Lois looked after him with eagerieyes. Then running up the steps, she read the card by the light in tbe vestibule.

It bore tbe inscription, engraved with extreme elegance: "REGINALD 1RESHAM,

Her Majesty's Riflqs, Hotel Brunswick, New York City."

CHAPTER VI. THE WOOING O'T.

It was February. Col. Tresham stood by the open fare in Dr. Langley's parlor, with his arm resting on the mantel, and his eyes fixed on the blazing logs. "What malicious spirit can have prompted tbe child to love me!" he exclaimed bitterly "me,of all men Oh, if I only knew what was best. I do not believe that Neil really cares for her. If I thought that be did—but no Iam sure he was only joking. And she? She loves me, poor child! Ah! I wish I were not so sure ef that."

He heaved a deep sigh, bis arm dropped to his side, and be begar^.tp. pscethe roouft with restless steps. "Sometimes I think that Heaven has vouchsafed me this chancfe for atonetoent he cluttered, as he walked baG*

be oi uttered, as he th with his arina-^'^-,^

across his Tnww&r-•-—men again it seems like a cruel

wrong

y^Never!"

screamed frantically

"Let me go 1" "Whatls It?" said a reassuring voice In her ear. "Do not struggle so! What is the matter? Tell me! Are yon In danger How can I help yon

which I cannot, must

not contemplate. O, God What have 1 to do with love I who go about with the brand of Cain upon my brow and a sepulchre in my heart!"

liismiad was iu a tumult. after years of unswerving fidelity, his heart had foresworn its allegiance, for Tresham did not love Lois.

He only felt that within the past two months during which, as the friend of Neil Vincent, he had become a frequent visitor to Dr. Langley's house, be had unwittingly allowed her heart to pass

Into

his keeping—that her happiness was at his disposal, and he could not bear to break her heart!

He had a right to refuse a love that came to him, unasked, unsought, merewith long-continued

brooding ©ver the past? Though his own heart was dead, be had still power to make or mar the happiness of another lifo.

But the memory of by-gone years haunted him. If the grave could speak, would It not upbraid him for the course he contemplated? "God knows I was innocent of evil intent!" he muttered with something like a sob. "0, my lost darling! Give me youtbeavenly counsel."

Tre&ham bowed hl« head and stood leanina against the mantel quite unconscious that he had been waiting there almost an hour.

Dr. Langley did not come. Tbe door of his office stood ajar. Tresham crossed the hall and entered the library.

As he stepped over the threshhold, the sound of his own name arrested his attention. "I mean it for your good, Lois, tbe doctor was saying, "I cannot allow you to see Colonel Tresham again." "I will see him!" Lois answered, passionately. MYou shall never separate 119 J*' "Child," said the doctor, in a pained voice. "This man does not care for you. Trust me, Lois! Nothing is dearer to me than yonr happiness but this is an infatuation you will blush for in after

she answered with vehe

mence. "If I am to be nothing to him, so be it! What am I, that he should care for me But my love Is his, and his alone. I will worship him to my dying day!"

Dr. Langley groaned aloud. "Lois," ne cried, in a voice of anguish "You don't know whatyooaresaying! "Yes, I do! 1 may be a child in years, but it is a woman's heart that beats within mv breast. On, Uncle kills, let me be! "If ycu take this love from me should die!"

Tresham stood aa though turned to stone. His face was deadly pUe. He heard Dr. Langley walking back and forth in his office then a storm of passionate sobs, as Lois threw herse down upon tbe lounge. "My poor child! mated, brokenly, _— suddenly seemed to come beck to life.

MV poor cniia Dr. Langley murmured, brokenly, and then Tresham

A look of determination dawned npon his face. He stepped a step forward,anl pushed open the office door.

A moment more, and he was kneeling at Lois' side. "Don't crv!" he whispered, tendert.v as be folded hi* arms about her, and ri feta* on either tear-wet

nrwwed a soft kiw on either tear-wet

He wai a perfect giant, hot bte pbeek "Lola, look up! I have »omeant was upon him In an thing to savto yon." bis knee on hia breaat, cruahing him to crimson tide of ahame swept over

her (ace.

fSSftl as

.vqu .u^,. "Let me go!" she wiedp^sionately,

'Three times—trie watchman's as she struggled in his close embrace. "You—you listened! How dare you?"

sound of bor little heel rang out Tresham let ber go then, and rose to his clearly on the frosty air, and in three minutes four policemen came, running from opposite corners. "I guess they can take charge of him! the gentleman said, carelessly brushing the snow off of a handsome overcoat, ad tbe officers laid hold of thecowed villain. "O, sir!" Lois cried, holding out her hand, which was still trembling with tbe shock of fear. "How can I thank you?"

I have Bome-

"I did hear," he said, turning to Dr. Langley, "but—on my honor as a gentleman—I did not listen purposely! Sir will you allow me here, in the presence of your niece, to make a formal proposal for her hand?" "No!" Lois burst forth. "You shall not marry me out of pity! I will not have you, Colonel Tresham."

With a sudden gesture, he seized her two hands and clasped them tightly in his own. "Child," he murmured, sadly. 1 have no one in this wide world to care for me. I thought that you might not be unwilling to brighten my life a little."

There was something in his voice that stilled the tumult in her breast. She raised her eyes to his, and with that mutual loek a strange, new tenderness was born in the heart of each. It was something wholly different from love, and yet it was love, for Tresham felt for the first time that she had grown very dear.to him.

As Dr. Langley looked at them, tbe tears rushed to his eyes. "Colonel Tresham," he said, in an un certain voice, "you are a* man among a thousand! I would trust ber to you without a single misgiving. It shall be as she says."

Then without another word he turned and left tbe room. Lois was standing now quite still and subdued. Tresham drew her towards him, with extreme gentleness. "Lois," he fcaid, softly, "I am very much older than you—almost old enough to be your father. My best days are over. I have nothing to offer you but a broken heart—and a broken life. But, if you will let me try, I think I can make you happy. Will you give me a chance dear? Will you marry me?" "Yes," she answered, clinging to him closely, "if—you—will not try to love me a iittle." "I love you now," he said, kissing her on the forehead, but just as coldly and calmly as if she had been a child. "But I will not deceive you, Lois. All rhapsodies were still in my heart long ago." "You loved some one else!" she said, with jealous pain. "You love her still!" "She is dead, child! She died years ago. I would wrong you, if I withheld from you the truth. The best of my life is laid away in a woman's grave. If you are satisfied to take what is left. Lois, it is yours to dispose of as you will." "I will take it," she answered, tremulously. But oh, are you not afraid that —some day you may regret having married a silly child like me

Tresham looked down Into the lovely upturned face, which had grown so very pale, and smiled. "You will help me to forget," he said, kissing her. "You will teach me new thoughts, and take away the bitterness of past sorrow.'

hat night be went back to tbe hotel with a thousand thoughts surging through his brain.

As be sank into a chair and shaded his eyes from the glowing fire, hemurmured to himself two lines of Byron's, that seemed to suit his fancy "Nor was all love shut from him through his Of pafflion had consumed themselves to dust."

The Doctor paced the room sevenl times before he spoke again. His nefct words were: "Lois is dearer to me than anything this world, Colonel Tresham." "I know it, sir 1" "But you have not guessed the trut which is known to no one in New Yor except myself. Lois is not mv ni" She is in no way related to me.

Tresham started. He couldn't help 1 "You surprise me, sir he exclaim involuntarily. "But, all the same, she is my heiress, added the Doctor, quickly.

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING,MAIL.

CHAPTER VII. IN CONFIDENCE.

The following evening, Colonel Tresham mes Dr. Langley in his office by intment.

ppointment.

unusual. nervered himself to some painful ordeal. "Sir," be said, as he (hand with an trifeted you less tfeS^ontidence, am about to bestow uDon you, would be impossible." "Dr. Langley," the young officer answered, quickly, "any trust you may repose in me shall be sacred." "I know it 1 I am sure of it! I respect you, Colonel Tresham, with my whole soul. But it is not easy for me to speak the words I feel compelled utter."

Tresham raised his hand to deprecat further mention of Lois' fortune

any luriner nieuuuu Be that

It ?ay --/L-

0» no

non-l

k*«y0u area man of honor," the Doctor continued hurriedly. "This may seem to vou a disgrace too deep to be overlooked in the woman you would make your wife, though I swear to youthat the truth has never been breathed in this city before. No one knows it still, I would not hold you to an engagement

WhSir!"cried Tresham,

springing to his

feet and speaking with passionate emphasis. "Lois herself is pure and innocent—a fitting consort for a king. I ask no more." ...

The Doctor seemed overcome by tuts

^"G^bles^you!" he murmured brokenly. "I was not mistaken in yon. But, oh, swear to me, Colonel Treaham, that you will never breathe a word of this to her: swear to me that no word of yours shall ever suggest the truth to her —of her want of relatives." "With all my soul!" Tresham Mjid earnestly. "So help me God, no sylla ble of this ahall ever pane my lips under any circumstances or provocation.

Dr. Langley heaved a sigh of relief "You ere a noble fellow," he Mid, rasping Tresham's hand. "You almost reconcile me to my disappointment You know It has been my dre^p tor many a year to see LOJ the wife ox Neil Vincent.9 v.

Tresham started. "No," he said, "I was not awaro of that that yon tbonsbt of such a thing.

Dr. Langley sighed. "Neil's father and I were chums at

ways loved tbe boy. der bow he will bear it?" "What do you mesn?" cried.

The Doctor did not answer him, but drew from his pocket a letter of very recent date and put it in his hands.

Tresham glanced hurriedly over it till he came to these words: "I shall be back in a week or ten days, "bo not speak to Lois. I would rather

{ips

lead

my own cause, and learn from her whether my life shall be crowned with happiness or misery." "Good Heaven!" Tresham cried hoarsely. "Is it possible—oh, it cannot be that Neil really loves her!" "Yes," the Doctor answered sadly. "He loves her. He has loved her for years.

A smothered groan burst from Tresham's lips. "Oh, if I bad known this!" he cried in a voice of agony. I did not think be was in earnest. Wretch that I am, I have betrayed the trust of my only friend!"

Shaken with a bitter anguish, he bowed his head in bis bands, and sobbed. "Don't!" said tbe Doctor, gently. "You couldn't help it."

But it was long before he could escape the first bitterness of a stinging self reproach. "What does he mean?" he said at last, when he lifted his pale face, and took up the letter again. "What is this he says about his fortune "Haven't you hewd?" cried the doctor, in surprise. Neil has inherited one of the finest names and estates in Old Virginia." ."'V

What! Is it possible "It came through his mother. The heir-at-law was a young rake who brought about his uncle's death, and got himself disinherited. The property consequently descended to a maiden aunt of •Neil's mother, and she died three weeks ago, leaving the whole estate to Neil on condition that he adopts the name of Graham. Good heavens, Tresham! what is the matter "Nothing, nothing!" he gasped, with pallid lips. "Don't te alarmed."

The doctor rushed to the wine-closet for a glass of brandy, and pressed the stimulant upon him.

Tresham tried to drink it, but his hand trembled so that half tbe contents of tbe glass was spilled upon the floor. "Excuse me!" he faltered. I am feeling wretched. I think I will go home."

The doctor called a cab for him. As Tresham learned back upon the cushions and was driven rapidly back to his hotel, his face wore a pallor of death. "It is fate!" he murmured, in the accents of despair. "Fate, pitiless and inexorable!"

CHAPTER VIII.

MADAME DK BOX.

An elegant equipage stood in front of Dr. Langley's residence. A footman in dark-green livery bad just handed in a card, on which was delicately engraved the name of "Madame Stephanie de

Then the carriage-door was opened, and a woman superbly clad in black velvet entered the house. As she crossed the threshold of the parlor with the step of a duchess, the large mirror over tbe mantle reflected a face of wondrous beauty and a figure of exquisite shape.

The satin smoothness of her ivory white skin, unstained by a single fleck of color, proclaimed ber still a young woman and yet her hair, that fell in soft waves upon a pure Greek forehead, was like the driven snow—a wondrous silvery mass, that gave to her face a special charm.

Sinking languidly into an easy chair, she waited for Dr. Langley, but when she heard his hurried step on the stairs, a faint flush overspread her cheek, and

faint flush overspread ne

The expression of the lattpr's face ww£ ^heieaved forward eagerly inusual. He looked, like a man who haa «Madame de Roy the doctor claimj^Jn^^i^^i^^h^^an^

"Ah, doctor," she said, in a soft, winsome voice, as she returned his fervent hand-clasp. "How are you? You did not expect to see me—no? I tbrougbt you might have heard 1 was to sing in opera here this month." "No," he answered, with the look of welcome still shining on his face had not beard. When did you leave Paris?" "In December. I have been what they call'starring' it tlirQugh Germany ana Russia. I arrived here on Wednesday, in the Servia." "Ah, how glad I am to see you again It is all of eight years .since we parted in Paris. But you look just tbe same as you did then—a little better, perhaps." "You flatter me!" she said, with a sad, sweet smile. "How is my—how is Lois?' "Well, very well and happy, too, But she has grown to be a woman within the past year. Madame, the child is actually betrothed! "How?"

The voice that utterea that monosyllable had suddenly grown sharp ana incisive. The face of thp singer grew if possible a shade paler. "I would not have wished it so," the

"J.

Langley's wealth is a matter or no conidoctor said

•^bStow you!'- oried the Doctor.Ue^ several yeara older. She ia only "8°' !°u "Sixteen 1" murmured Madame with a

and acknowledge self. But to ——j fession. Perhaps I ought to have made it sooner. Lois is a nameless child |I adopted in her infancy. If it had not been for me, her life would have been blighted by the lack of a home.

Ibe Doctor spoke .very rapidly and with great agitation. "Good Heaven Tresham ejauclated when he recovered himself but it was sympathy more than horror that moved

wouia nw nave wisueu it bu, me

qujckly,

'Afc

"atleast, not until

love before I saw how

ings were going, audit was too late to oia the consequence-1. Fortunately, ougb, her lover is a man of excellent aracter. He is tbirty-five at least, and ols loves him dearly." Madame parsed her band over ber es.

I am sorry for this," she said, in tmulous tones. "What is his name?-' Tresham—Colonel Reginald Tresham is an Englishman, and quite wealthy, went to Africa to fight tbe Zulus, won both fame and fortune. I betye be discovered a diamond mine in

Colony." es," she said, somewhat impatient"But what of him? Is worthy of doctor? Are you sure he is worthy r?" would stake my life on that, Mad-

You may be sure he is worthy, I am willing to accept him as a In-law in place of Neil Vincent."

Then that old dream is over has become of your favorite? I— thkht he was fond of Lois." fond for his own good, poor fello4 But he is winning a name in bis prteion, and fortune has smiled on bit He has inherited a fine name and anltate in Virginia. He is no longer NelTincent, but Neil Graham." ham!" Madame grasped, half stahg from her chair. "In Virginia?"

A very fine estate, I am told, vens! Madame are yon ill no!" she cried, sinking back into "It* was notbin g—only Iile you for

«an,i w-v- J' In a of relief. "I hope you do not JT" »•!•»«»•. T." "hat you

Tieshsci

you for a

water, Doctor." rried away to get it, and left her ie slender wbith tend pressed vely over her eyes. all these years!" she muimurity. "Ah, Heaven! How weak ut Lois sbonld never have martiedjhat hatred name—never, never!" returned with a tray con talniboth water and wine. 1 pou look better now," he said,

have doing." "T is not much to tell," she answeiiritb an effort. "But you shall

hear it another time. I only have a little while to stay. We rehearse this afternoon, and I would like to see Lois before I go." "You will find her changed," the Doctor said, as he rang the bell. "She has grown very pretty/' "I_I would like to meet this lover of hers," Madame said, slowly, as the Doctor dispatched a servant for Miss Lois. "Of course! I am anxious that you nhould. I think you will like him. Ah! Here she comes! See here, my ladybird, do you know who this is?"

In training robes of pale pink cashmere, Lois stood for a moment on the threshold, hardly crediting her eyes. Then she uttered an exclamation of joy, and flung herself into the arms of Madame de Roy. "Ma plus chere tauie!" she cried. "Sst ee possible qiteje te wais encosef"

Tears rushed'to the eyes of the beautiful singer, as she clasped her to her heart in a passionate embrace.

t,Ah,

mignonne! she said, smiling.

"You have not forgotten me or the French I taught you in the Elysee Monmartre?" "Dear Madame!" Lois cried, warmly. "I could never forget you

The great singer gently disengaged herself, and held the girl off at arm's length.

As she looked down at Lois' lovely face lighted by arpair of large, dark eyes, and framed in a tangle of jetty curls, soft as silk, many strange emotions chased each other over Madame's pale face. "So like him in some ways," she murmured, "and yet so unlike him in other!" "Child," she said, aloud, "you are very pretty. But I suppose your lover has told you that many a timd."

Lois' face flushed sweetly. "You have heard then she asked shyly. "I am going to be married." "Not right away, I hope! You are 'o'er young to marry.'" "Not till next fall. I shall be sevent06D then*"

Madame de Roy smiled slightly "I wish you had waited longer, Lois.'she said.

Yon^won't say that when you see Colonel Tresham. Oh, he is—" Sho paused in thd midst of her eulogy, and dropped her head with sudden confusion. "I have no doubt he is everything that is desirable in a lover," Madame said with a low laugh. "But I shall not take him on faith, child. I insist upon seeing him before I form an opinion." "I am Bure you will like each other," Lois said earnestly. "I hope so. But really I must be going: I shall see you again. Doctor. I just came to tell you I was in town. I will talk to you again, Lois, about— stay! Why can't you come and take luncheon with me to-day My carriage is at the door." "Where are you stopping?" the Doctor inquired. "At tbe Brunswick." "The Brunswick!" cried LOIB. "Why, that is where Rex boards." "Rex?" queried Madame. "Oh—Colonel Tresham! Indeed Well, so much the better! Now I am sure you Won't refuse me. Go get your wraps, child." "It is love," she murmured "and yet —it 1r not the love that I knew."

Once in the carriage, with Lois at her side, she clasped the girl in A close em brace, and cried with passionate vehemence "My darling, my darling! Are you glad to see me again

In a kind of mute wonder, Lois looked up at the pale, beautiful face that-was bending over her. Hot tears fell upon her cheekB the eyes that methevown were full of an unutterable love. "Yes, madame," she said softly. "I

A1%l&alfie?unc^M

that day"'in the din

ing-room. She and Lois bad just taken their seats when Colonel Tresham en-

He noticed Lois with extreme surprise. "Here be is!" she exclaimed, and then .half unconsciously, she touched tbe vacant chair at her side.

He came over and shook bands with her. "Rex," she said, with a happy flush on her face, "this is Madame ae Roy, an old, old friend whom we knew iu Paris when I was only five years old. Madame, this is Colonel Tresham."

Tresham's dark melancholy eyes were lifted to the beautiful face of tbe Binger and then he started slightly.

Not a line, not a feature of her faee was familiar to him—except perhaps tbe eyes. But no! they are different, too. She did not in tbe least resemble any one whom he had ever known, and yet as be met her earnest, questioning gaze, he felt a strange thrill that might have been accounted for by that mysterious law of "elective affinities."

All in a moment be knew that this singularly beautiful woman wasin some unknown way associated with bis innermost self.

It could not be-in tbe past, he thought, for he bad never seen her before. What was the presentment that influenced him so strongly He could not tell.

Meanwhile, Madame de Roy regarded him with extreme earnestness but ber face, schooled to mask her feelings, betrayed not the slightest emotion. "A very handsome man," she mar mured, as Tresham took tbe vacant seat at Lois' side. "But much too old and too grave for her."

Lois was in high spirits. Her eyes sparkled, and her cheeks were like roses, Jresham watched ber with a kindly, indulgent smile that did not escape Madame.

He does not love ber!" she exclaimed, with much misgiving. "Or be loves ber only as a child. My darling, my darling, God keep you from sorrow and suffering! I could not bear life blighted, too

to see your

suffering! ighl -, She did not enter much into the conversation, but, from time to time. Tresham met her eyes, which were fixed him as though she sought to know his innermost soul.

More than once the rich blood dyed his dark skin for though his face was turned away, he knew that she was looking at him, and his pulse qnickened. "He will never deceive ber," thought Madame, as she noted tbe lofty contour of his brow, tbe noble carriage of his bead, and the manly look that characterized his whole bearing. "He will never deceive her but he will not—he cannot love her as Lois deserves to be loved. Oh, God, save her from that cruel fate that is worse than death—the fate of one who love, yet is not beloved!"

They rose from tbe table presently, and Tresham walked ont of the diningroom at tbe ride of Madame de Roy. "I have heard of you so often!" he said. "Your name was familiar to me long before 1 came to America but Lois has it on ber lipsdaily. Madame de Roy seems to embody ber idea of all that is lovely and excellent in woman and," be added, gallantly, "I'm sure I don't wonder."

Tbe great ringer smiled. It pleased ber to know what Lois thought of her the compliment was simply ignored. "And new," Tresham continued, "I hope to learn what is ber idea of a voice. Low always said to me that if she conld ring like Madame de Roy, she would be qnite satisfied." "I think she will, some day," Madame

said, musingly. "The child had a very quick ear. and her middle register is unusual. If her voice were cultivated, I should not be surprised to hear her in opera some day." "I hope that time will never come!" Tresham exclaimed, with a quick frown. "Do not encourage her in any such fancy, Madame, I beg you!" "Sir," she answered, coldly, "J never try to influence Lois iu any way. I have no right. But I am sorry to say you must excuse me now. I have an engagement this afternoon, and Lois—" "No apology, Madame!" he said quickly. "Good afternoon! I hope to have the pleasure of meeting you again.'"

Lo'

•How jois asked.

ou like him?'

proudly, as her handsome lover walkea away. "Like him?" echoed Madame, as her eyes followed the manly figure till it ~assed out of sight. "Very much! But is different from what I expected—entirely different."

Mm A

CHAPTER IX FAITH.

Colonel Tresham was pacing the floor with restless strides. On the table lay two of tbe special librettos of the Royal Opera Company— "Norma" aud "Lucia di Lammermoor" —containing the opinions of the press concerning the voice and vocalization of tbe celebrated French prima donna, Madame Stephanie de Roy.

Besides these yellow-covered books lay a pair of kid gloves, an opera glass, and envelope continingcomplimentary tickets for the evening at the Theater.

Tresham paused In his reckless walk, and bis eyes fell upon a picture of Madame de Roy, that was printed on tbe front of the libretto.

It was nothing but a wood-cut, which could not portray the splrituelle beauty of the great singer's face but at the sight of it, Tresham's pulse began to throb. "What madness is this?" he cried, passionately, as he turned tbe pamphlet over, and had the face from view. "She fascinates me. I can tlflnk of nothing but the smiles she gave me I see nothing but that look of earnest appeal I hear nothing but her name! Madame de Roy! I must not—I will not suecumb to this strange influence."

Once more he began to pace his room, Jbut an imperative rap arrested bis footsteps.

It was Neil Vincent—Neil Graham— that entered the room. His face was deadly pale, and wore a look that Tresham could not mistake, rri He knew Instinctively that his friend believed be had deceived him, and bad come to demand a reckoning. "Nell, my dear boy!" he stammered, faintly, but Graham's hand was at his throat, and choked his utterance. "Traitor!" he cried, with flashing eyes. "You have deceived me! You have stolen Lois from me!" "Nell, Neil! Hear me for God's sake!" "Silence! No cavilling, no lies, Tresham. Answer me, yes or no. Is it true that Lois Langley is your promised k. wife Wjjfi "Yes!" Tresham answered, wrenching m, himself from Graham's desperate clutch. "Stand back, Neil, before you do what.1 you may repent." "Repent!" hissed the frantic man. "I could kill you in cold blood. Tresham, you area liar and a knave."

The Colonel's face blanched to a*.*, ghastly whiteness, but he still controll- -t ed himself. "Nell," he said, sternly, "listen to me!'6No! You shall hear. I did not deceive you. 1 swear that I told you the truth. I do not love Lois with such a love as vours. She is to me little more than a t&j torirtrte cMld. I Always thought of her as such. Never once did I seek to win her. Her love came to mo un- si/' sought. It was only when I- found her« happiness at stake that I asked her tor' marry me. Neil, as God hears me, I would gladly give her up to-night, if I thought she would be happy."

His voice and manner stirred the storm of passion in Graham's breast but bis words awaked thoughts of unutterable bitterness. "She loves you!" be cried in tones of anguish. "I have loved ber for yers. I have loved her as a child, a girl, and now, 1 as a woman. There has never been a moment since I have known her, when I would not have laid down my life to serve her. And yet she gives ber love— her love, to another—a stranger who says he does not prize it! O, God! This is too much."

In the utter ecstasy of despair, be sank dowq in a chair, and bowed his head upon the table.

Tears were rolling down Tresham's cheeks. He trembled with an emotion he could not master.

"Neil," he said, looking at his friend with unutterable grief and tenderness, "I never dreamed of this. O, my dear boy, believe m6! I would sooner have died than have done this thing deliberately. Why did you not confide in me? Why did you not tell me all?" "A man does not ley his heart bear for nothing," be said, bitterly. ... "But you could have trusted me." "You!" "Yes, me! Ob, Neil! Look into my eyes. I am telling you tbe sacred truth. I did notjenow, or I would have stayed away, if it bad cost me my life!"

Graham lifted bis bead. His friend bad sunk upon bis knees, with tbe tears still wet upon his cheeks and a look in his teyes that silenced every doubt.

For a moment he gazed at him, and then, with a sudden impalse, be grasped his hand.

-'''7

I cannot doubt yon, Rex!" be cried hoarsely. "But—0, God! How can I bear it?" ,•

It is not too late," Tresbsm said, eagerly.' "Vou may win ber yet. Neil, if you can make ber love you, I will give *. her up gladly." "No," Graham answered, hopelessly, "it is you whom she loves. You have won ber—my darling, my beautiful little love!"

A mighty sob shook bis stalwart frame, and bis bead sank again. It was long ere they spoke. When be raised bis bead, bis eyes met the sorrowful gaze of his friend. "Tresbam," be said, huskily, "swear to me tbat you will bold ber happiness sacred—swear that you will never, by look or word or deed, whatever tbe cost to yourself, give her a moment's suffering that you can spare her. Swear tbat vou will do this."

I will," bis friend answered solemnly. "Her happiness shall always stand before my own—I swear it!" "Rex," cried Graham, springing to bis feet, "I trust you in toe face of all evidence, because I love you. Ob, for God's sake, do not deceive me!"

I never will!" Tresham answered with passionate emphasis. "Neil, you shall trust me implicitly, because I give you faith for faith. To prove to you how absolute is ray confidence, I will tell you tbe story of my wretched past, I will reveal to you the secret of my life. Neil tbe name you now bear is mine, also, am Roland Graham!" "You!'- be cried, staggering back. •You tbe man who murdered Commodore Graham!"

Continued on Seventh Page,