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,,-,x‘e,.~ mm, » y a

 

 

It was a bear. It stood gazing down into
the gorge as if debating with itself as to how
it could get down into the valley. _

“ Boys,” said Wild Dick, “we’re growmg
desperate hungry, ar‘n’t we? Another oppor~
tunity for procuring food may not be offered
soon; and if we all pour a broadside into that.
bear where he stands, he’ll tumble down here
at our very feet.” .

“But the report of our rifles will bring the
enemy down upon us, will it not?”

“ Just as ‘ Well die fighting Ingins—better.
too—than to stay here and starve to death,
hiding fromthem.”

S 01136. ., , 1' . , . ,.  I

pBoth Dick and Billy raised their r 5 
fired almost -simultaneously.-,2  
and a lively'scrambling on ,the" '4 dgb, were
succeeded by h" shower of.dirt;;aad,ngbbles.
Then the huge body of hotbedr, toppled over
the cliff and came thundering to the earth with
a crash that fairly shook the ground 'beneath
their feet. What little there was left of life

in the beast was crushed out by the fall.

  

“ There is a king’s feast for be, boys,” cried,

Dick. “ Roast rib, roast sirloin and roast
liver would make a dead man smack his lips.”

“ Sure, and the rhibs and sarline isn’t rhoast-
ed now, be they?” asked Billy Brady. _

“I never knowed a live bear go totin’ roast»-
ed ribs around with it.” ‘ ‘ ‘

“ Won’t a fire be another object to draw the
attention of the savages?” Perry inquired.

“ We’ll make that in a niche under the ledge
and behind some bushes,” explained Dick,
“ I’ll look out a place the fust thing I do, and
strike a fire. I’m hungry as a vulture.”

The Boy Hunter departed and soon return—
ed with the intelligence that he had found the
entrance to a large cavern—an admirable
place for their purpose. .

While Dick was procuring the coveted por—
tions of the bear, the others set about gather-
ing dry sticks and chunks of wood‘forfuel.
Thesesecured, the party retired to the cavern,
Endangering it a rod or two, lighted a fire in
a deep recess at one side of the main passage.

'As the fire burned up, its light reached out
through the cavern; revealing the large di.
mensions of the subterranean passage, whose
unexplored extremity was lost-to sight. in the
distant gloom. / : -

All were too deeply interested in the forth-
coming feast, the preparation of which was
being superintended by Dick, to feel anxious
about the dimensions of the cavern, just then.

It ~ required some time to. prepare supper.
which was got up in true hunter style, and which
demands no little skill and knowledge in order
to retain the flavor of the meat and at the
same time impart a tender juiciness to in

’ But Dick, boy though he was, proved equal to
the task, and finally distributed among his
friends a feast that would have tempted the
palate-of a king.

All ate with avidity and in a silence which
attested their hunger. The repast being at
length finished, a guard was stationed at the
mouth of the cavern. This duty devolved up
on Perry, who took his post without a word of
dissent. Although the youngest of the party.
he was-a brave and fearless boy, and shrunk
from no ’duty or danger.

And now the restless Billy Brady was on tip—
toe in his anxiety to explore the cavern; and
finally he resolvedto venture alone through
the labyrinths of the unkn0wn vault. His
friends tried to induce him to postpone the ex
ploration until morning, but no persuasion
could allay the inordinate curiosity of the
youth. V .

Preparing a flaming torch of pine sticks he
set out upon his journey. Frank Caselton
watched the receding light until it had disap—
peared.

With great anxiety the return of the young
Irishman was awaited. Those around the fire
did not think. he would be long away; for if
the cavern was but the continuation of the
gOrge, it was possible that it did not extend
far. -

An hour wore away and Billy did not return.

His friends thought it barely possible that he.

was slipping around, trying to play some joke
upon them; and so their fears for his safety
were not excited until another hour passed and
found him still absent. Then they «began to
mistrust that all was not right- that Billy we.
either lost in the cavern or had fallen into
danger. ‘

‘Wild Dick shook his head dubiously, and ex-
pressed his fears in grave tones.

Frank Caselton and his friends had pledged
each other, before starting out son that sum
mer’s tour, to stand firm by his companions
come weal or woe. And so Frank thought i»
a sacred duty to go at once in search of th»
absent one. Dick tried to persuade him to
wait till morning, but the youth was deter
mined, and procuring a torch, he set ofl’
through the cavern.

The night wore on, and to the surprise o:‘
Dick and Perry, neither Frank nor Billy cam-
back. The same unknown fate detained both

Wild Dick and his cempanion were com»
pletely astounded. They knew not what to
do. That Billy and Frank had fallen into
troublethey had not a single doubt; and that.
the same trap awaited them, was also mor.
than probable. ' "

"‘Well, what do you say, Perry?” asked
Dick, at his wit’s end in the matter.

“ I cannot desert my friends withdut knou -V
ing that they are beyond all eartLly aid, ” re-
sponded the heroic little fellow.

“ Then I’ll stand by you, Perry, through th:
whole.”

Their future course being thus settled, they
prepared to set oil? through the cavern. I
was thought best to go without torches, the:
the enemy, if concealed about, might not knOu
where to strike. n . »- a '

Dick took the lead, and keep' g his. hand
upon the wall to guide him, moved softly for
ward, picking every step with caution.I,‘ Perry
with his hand on his companion’s shoulder.
followed: ‘ . '

V : In. this manner they groped their way on»
ward, for many rods. The cavern seemed
endless—semblematic of eternity. They be-
gan. :to despair of ever: reaching its extremity.
when, suddenly, a faint twilight pervaded the
gloombefore them. '  , p _ _ .
 They had reached the outlet of the chamber
or tunnel. , - v ‘ r
7; Creeping onward to the end of the passage,
the boys saw that it, opened into .a little,_ob-
long valley, upon allesides of which rose per-
pendicular walls of solid rock.
- The faint gleamvof a light before them ar—
rested the boys’ attention. The wrangle and
gibber like that of a hundred wolves caught their
ears. The dim, dark outlines of a tall build-
ing loomed up against the wall of gray rock,
\grim-and foreboding. ' 7
The boys could not help shuddering. The
secluded valley seemed overshadowed with
some awful mystery.
_ Suddenly a dull, thunderous noise came
rolling through the cavern, in startling intona-
tions. The youths drew back and pressed
themselves close against the worn, fluted walls.

“Blaze away, then,” was the   I
, i.   in x.
. , ,_

 

That strange sound drew nearer. It ap-
peared to be the pounding of hoofed feet upon
the stony way. ‘

The youths held their breath in a horrible,
suspense. l“ -

The next moment a light held aloft by a?
man burst into view. The man was mounted
upon a fearful—looking creature—~21 creature
with great shaggy mane, gleaming eyes and
smoke—streaming nostrils.

It was a huge buffalo. With a, the: "

beast brushed past the trembling
plunged into the little, rock—bound valley. ':‘  '5'

The youths followed to the mouth if the
cavern, to'watch the grim, bearded :ridgr.
Something like théé'fllill, crunching rumbleof :ai
:heavy: body relied upon trucks, soundedi‘in the
passage behind. them’. , They turned to, seek

:safetyagain under cover  the cavern walls;
built) their surprise and sherror, found the pas;
sage blocked! Ahuge stone, reaching from wall
‘to wall, and ,ceiling‘to floor, that their united

strengthcould not move, hal been rolled out
fromits secret recess in the wall across the
opening, cutting the youths off from eaca ,
imprisoning them in that mysterious valley
over Which brooded the shadows of death. ‘

 

CHAPTER XII.
IDAHO TOM AT #an “ OPHIR.”

WEIeft Idaho Tom at the cabin of Zedekiah
Dee, the Mad Trapper. ’

Straight from the old borderman’s quarters,
Tom made his way toward Virginia City. He
walked briskly, his spirits buoyed upby a re-
membrance of the fair, girlish face which had
made such an impression upon his young

It was nearly morning when he reached the
slumbering village; and, ere he was within his
own headquarters, the rosy sky hadyburst into
flame. ‘ ., .  i ‘ ‘

The first thing the youth did was tomake
a thorough ablution of his person, change his
dress and then throw himself upon a couch to
rest his wearied body and recover that strength
which only sweet and peaceful sleep can re-_
store. ' -

It was late in the afternoon before he left ‘1

his bed. When he did, he repaired to a restau-

rant and ordered a lunch which he ate with a.

keen appetite. , I .

From the restaurant, he went directly to
the “ Ophir Exchange,” a mild name for a
fashionable gambling house wherein fortunes
were made and lost in a single night. ,

By this time the lights were ablaze in the
“Ophir.” The house was filled almost to
overflowing with men of nearly every nation—
ality. All was peace and quiet, if we except
the Babel of voices, pitched in the common
tone, mingled with the clinking of glasses and
rattling of dice. .

Tom crowded his way throfigh this throng.
and entered a private room, separated from
the main apartment by a curtain only. The,
room was furnished with a table, easy—chairs,s
and all pertaining to a first-class house.

A tidily—dressed waiter drew aside the
tain—door, and asked: ‘

“ What are your orders, sir?” 1. _

‘_‘ Send a messenger for Jack Hill to come
here at once. Then I will take a bottle Oi
Madeira.”

The man in white apron retired and soon
returned with the wine and information that,
a messenger had been dispatched for Jack
Hill.

Idaho Tom soon found himself alone. With
a nervous movement and look of disdain, he
pushed the wine and goblets aside, refusing to
touch the costly beverage.

Throwing himself back in his easy-chair.
the youth sunk into a reverie. The murmur
of voices. around him disturbed him not. The
sullen boom of a blast, far down in the mine
beneath the city, where men worked and
slaved night and day, he took no note of. His
thoughts ran thus:

“ Oh, Tom, Tom! outlaw as you are called.
vagabond as you are! what ails you, my boy:
Are you really in love?-—~in love with the mys
terious maid of Tahoe’l—the daughter of the
Mad Trapper?
angel, and you’re a rollicking young scam‘p.
No pure, innocent girl would marry the Out—
law of Silverland. But then, Tom, why can’.
you do better—reform? Reform l—hal ha!
that’s good! Talk Of a boy of eighteen re
forming! That's fast, devilish fast] But.
then, Tom, you can give up that growing taste
for wine; quit cards and rambling about like
a lost lunatic, and go to work and make your—
self worthy of any girl in the‘land.”

Having thus lectured himself,- his thoughts
turned to the future.

“I will,” he mused—“ I will quit all bad
habits that make me an enemy to no one in
particular but myself. I have done nothing
mean nor criminal to debar me from the pro—
tection of the law and woman’s love, although
crimes without number bear, in connection
with them, the name of Idaho Tom. But 1
know, and God knows, what I have done, and
what I have not done. Yes, I will cast off
my sins and turn my whole life toward Win-
ning that girl’s love, if it can be done by hor-
orable means. I will take no unfair advan-
tage of her, and if I win her love and hand,
my interest in the mines, judiciously invested,
will be a good competence, and—”

The door opened, and the waiter said:

“Mr. Hill refuses to come unless it is abso~
lutely necessary.” .

“It’s absolutely necessary,” said Tom, and
taking a book and pencil from his pocket, he
wrote upon a slip of paper the following:

our.-

“ Dear Jackz—Hurry to the ‘ Ophir.’ Your dear
est friend lies in room 4, dying. TOM.”
‘Away went the waiter with the dispatch to

the messenger of the house. . « .

v In a few minutes Jack Hill came blusterin
into the .“ Ophir,” a look of, the deepest sur-
prise and regret upon hisface. w ’

‘.‘ Was he shot or stabbed?”,he asked of the.
proprietor, as he pushed along toWard room 4.
~ “ Wilda—what do you mean, Mr. Hill?” de—
mandedzthe astonished proprietor. , - ~ ~

Min-Hill made no reply, but pushed on and
entered the presence of Idaho Tom. 5 ~

«The latter burst into a roar of laughter:
rose to his feet, and extended his hand, my

“Soyou- have come, eh? You do care some
thing for your old friend, after all.” . v ‘5 I i

“ Come! yes, and by the gods, I’ve a notion
to shoot you, that your words may be in
truth,” and Jack Hill’s hand. sought his
pistol in his belt, for hclvwas made—in earnest.

“Keep your temper,:Jack,” replied Tom,
placidly; “ I see you’re out of sorts .to-night.”

“ Out of. sorts? 'thwouldn’t be out of
sorts to receive a message that a friend. was
dying, and find out that itIWas a lie?”

“ I wanted you, Jack; but,.for the world
can’t see why you’re so mad.
am not dying?” " ' ~ ‘

Hill looked puzzled by the question. His
black eyes snapped, his lips twitched, and fi-
nally he burst into a peal of pleasant laugh~
ter.‘ ‘

“Tom, you young vagabond, you always
get the best of me,” he said, and the two sat

1
Is it because I

But s’pose you are? She’s an_

tween them. Then, Hi1 n’went on: “But the

‘Hill, some strange people reside there.

 faces.

 

l

dOwn facing each other with the table be-

fact is, Toni, I’m harm the devil’s own luck.”
s‘,‘ Don’t your onim ‘pan10ut’l”' '

“ “Nd”, twefitydive cents to the ’toni'  
Tomi I’m déadgbroke.” -‘ ‘ 4 ‘2, EM

- “Can’t you make'a.‘raise"buckingi‘the t2»;
ger',’ or sell your
Tom. _ , , g...

‘,‘ Sell thunder! ‘Dol‘you suppose anybody’g,
goiflg‘to buy worthlessstock? Just listed“ 

’that blast, in the mine} under this very town} 2‘

claim!” questioned Idaho ,.

  

 

 

I’ll 'it loosened a thousand: dollars’ worth” ‘

011,116 raw material, an‘dyyon,‘ Tom ’  g
the lucky stockholders,“ mg. 1.0 ‘19. . s .: ,5,

.

ifitYes, but, spendth’dit 
that I’ll get out offitg‘ in he? "
here to-night to raiseéethe‘wmd.»
Hill, let me advise you.” I ~  i .  ‘ h 3.", i,
L “Certainly; by all means,'rif’there is" Ellyfi‘
thing in your advices—money, 11 mean,” rel;
turned Hill. w- _ .  ‘3," 'fi

“ There is; salt your claim and sell at,
value of a ton. You’ll have no t'rOuble ' in dot?"
ing so. ” ' ‘ ‘H

i “I know that, Tom; but,~Lord A’mighty;

I can’t raise the saline crystals.”

“ Trust to tonight’s luck. :‘The salocn’s full
of millers who, I dare say, have come here
with bags of the precious evil.” \

‘ .“ What of it? I couldn’t raise a. single
‘breeze.’_ I’m in a dead calmon the equator.
of total bu’stedupness.” ‘ » _ : '  r

“I have mywatch, some jeWelry, and the
ring; that I‘ will put up;” saidrTom, and he
produced a beautiful gold ring with a costly
diamond setting. " That,” he continued, “ was
a present to. me, and I prize it. very highly;
but I will let it go upon the stand. I must
make a raise, then I propose‘to lead a difl’er—‘
eat-lifewabetter life, Hill.” , w A. .   

,‘f’Whewl what’s at the bottom of .thatreso-
lution?”

“ A woman.”

Hill burst into a peal of merry laughter.

.“I knew it would come to that,” he said.
“I-clways saidnydu were so constituted that
youjcouldn’t the wiles of woman.” '

“ Ay, 1 but she's angel.” .

"‘ Then she has never flapped her celestial
wings in Virginia City. I know all the: girls
here, and, I daresay, none of  even havs
the prospect of becoming- angels.” - ,

“ I did not mean an angel in a literal sense
of the word,.Hill, ,But she livery beautiful
_—a flowsr blooming! in the desert, as it were.
Away, amid the hills that. environ the waters
of Tahoe, resides that idol of my heart. And,
They
say they are trappers+perhaps they are.” p
. " And perhaps they are the men who com
mitted the robberies that have been accredited,
to Idaho Tom.” . ,r . ' '

“They may be, but that does not lessen my
love for the angel among them.”

 “ She may be some man’s wife.
must: go carefu ” ‘

“ I’m not a fool, Hill. She’s a girl not over
fifteenor sixteen years of age.”

' The voice of a stranger near them, proposing
a gamecof poker to some one, arrested Tom’s
attention Pandasthe person addressed declined
to play; Tom pushed aside the curtain, and
said: " ‘ 9. _ .
“ on? .9; baths! aswfll play you. ”

Therei‘xpfonwtwogmenfiegitered the curtained
apartment. Both were‘siaiangers, with rough
\ They wore slouched hats, arid
licted as men would Who wished .to keep their
identity concealed. - :5,

' The men proposed: a game of poker, and
showed their honest intention by producing a
bag of gold-dust. . - .

Tom put up his watche-a magnificent gold
timer.

The four sat down, and'the game began.

Tom and Hill played the strangers. Tom
and Hill won.

“Salt,” mused Tom, pushing the gold-dust
over to his partner. '

Again the watch was staked, and again Tom
and Hill won.

'Therstrangers showing noudesire to relin»
quish the game, Tom put up his diamond ring
The strangers exchanged glances, and put 11;;
their third bag of dust.

Tom lost his ring, and the playing ended.
One of the men took the ring and placed ‘ii.
carefully away in his pocket. ' .

Tom ordered brandy and  The
strangers took of the latter, but declined to
drink, as did Tom also.

They talked but little. The strangers kept
their hats on and their. eyes bent. downward,
though it was evident to Hill, who sat in such.
a position that he could watch their move
ments, that they were studying things aroun-.
them closely. V . r .' . »

At length, Tom and Hill found themselves
alone. . > .

“ Who are they, Hill?” asked Idaho.

“ Don’t know—v-never seen them before.
Reckon they b’longiover to Carson; I’m in-
clined to mistrust them of some secret motive.’

“ Indeed?” . _ . .

“Yes;-—bnt, Tom, where did you get that
rin ’2‘” . _ 4 ,

“ Of a friend—why?" responded Tom, start-
ing slightly,

“ The men exchanged significant glances
when their eyes fell upon the ring; and they
quit playing as soon as they got it.- I’ll ven-
ture an assertion, anyhow, that you’ll hear.
from it again—~that it is a missing link to some
matter they’re sifting out.” r. : 

“ Do you really think so?” asked- Tom.
thoughtfully. r :. .i ‘

“ I do; I believe they are detectives.”

(To be continued—commenced in No. 284.)

Boy, ini

.H
‘4

 

 

.. Victgria;  7

O ’ ii. , u. ’ .
THE HEIRBSS or CASTLE .eL‘Irrs.
[BY MRS. MAY Asses FLEMING, Q .

AUTHOR orfi‘rnn DARK, SECRET,” “Awrui.
. TMYSTERY,” “run .vaL nnornnns,” Ere“.

 

 

CHAPTER XXY._,-,-CONTINUED. 

 “ WILLvyour - two or three words takelong
to say, Mr. Sweet?” asked Miss Shirley, still
smiling—~“ which means, am a I to .sit down. 0.
Stand}?! _ ~ . , . '> ;.

“You had better sit down, I think, Mia.

Shirley.” ‘ - V r '  ‘ A "

“Ah? I thought it was more than two or.
three words; but you had better be quick,for

I have not much timeto spare on this particu-
lar evening!” .-r ~ ~ , .. .. v. . . ,A

She sunk into a. fauteuil of scarlet velvet;
her gossamer, robes floating about her like
white mist; her graceful head,» with .its snowy
veil, and golden curls, and jeweled orange.
blossoms, leaning lightly against itsiglowing
back; the exquisite face whereon thesmile still
lingered, as she lightly waved him toa distant
chair. Truly, she was dazzling in ‘herTbeauty
and her splendor; but her companion was not
dazzled—he was smiling a little as he took his
scat.

 
  

“Well, Mr. Sweet, what is this terrible mys—
tery of which papa speaks?” '
R {,5 Colonel'Shirley has termed it rightly—it
shame. mystery.”

 “§l,§deedl‘ And it concerns me, I Suppose.
_ 'xr

vyééh.would not be so anxious to tell it to

'Yes, Miss Shirley, I am sorry to say it con-

   

W'Yoi} Very closely indeed.”

 .“ orry to say! Well, go on and let me
hear it then.” 5

.“It is a somewhat compleigéilifliory. Miss
Virley, and requires me to «go back a long

a:

   

    
  

  
 
     
   
  
 
     
    

  1   

 
   
  

  

     

   
  

 

 

 

  as
. 7 glanhii ‘fc   eve-m,  ry
 W'wfismt‘” ’

91¢th Wildmsnicgfijg ’37  ;_ r. ,5:  '
Atthistsmdsepouteemesgmsssmr—
.ley opened, her, blue eyes again, and, sm  .3,
flittle‘jamuiiied ,smil°,§§8’she-100ked,.at hi " 
. .ri *rv    r ' v  * 
$134 Mr.‘John’Wildman was by trade a
bricklayer, and often absent from home weeks
at a time. One morning, very early, during
one offlthese absences, a carriage drove up to
the door, and' ar;young ladyfand gentleman
-;made--‘theinjappearancc in the cottage. -The
"young ladynppeared to be ill, and the gentle i

should lodge there. Mrs. Wildman was not
many months married; they were poor; she‘
wished to help her husband, if she could; the
gentleman promised to pay well, and she con-
sented. He’w’emz awayiimmediately,‘and for
the next two orthree weeks did not make his.
appearance again, though money and furniture
"werenent'wrthe'cottage. At the endof that
time, fivo events. happened—a child we.s"b‘orn‘
and the lady died. Before her death, she had
sent a message to the young gentleman, who
came in time to see her laid in the grave, and
consigned infant daughter to the care of
Mrs. Wildman before departing, as he thought,
forever, from his native land.” ‘

4 During this preamble, the, blue eyes had
opened to their widestezisent, and were fixed
on the speaker withla'little bewildered stare
that said -j  enough; she could make
neither head not tail of the whole thing.

‘ “Several months after this,” Mr. Sweet
went on steadily, “ this John Wildman, with
a‘few others, perpetrated a crime for which
he was transported, leaving his wife and child
—-for they had a child some weeks old—to get-
on as best they might; the strange gentleman’s
infant with them. It was by means of thi~
very infant they managed to exist at all; fot
its father, immediately on his arrival in India.
for which place he had Sailed, sent her plenti
ful remittancese‘a‘nd so, for nearly six year,
they got along tolerany well. At the end of
that time, {she-a fell ill, and her husband‘s
mother, who lived in some outsof~the~way place
in the north?” of England;:was sent for, and
cameto nurse her and the two little girls——
whose names, by thaway, I forgot to tell you.
were Victoria and Barbara”;“ '

During hil this time his .llstener‘had been
“far wide.” But now shqstarted as if she
had receIVed a galvanic 

“ What! Victoriaéfindngarbami It isn’.

possibleihatg—y-g . pg...

" Permit me to, matinee, Miss Shirley,” said
er.’ Sweet, bowing" without looking up, “and
you will soon  the characters. Yes,
their names Victoria mngarbara. Vic
toria, the, .eldergby': a few, menths, was th-
daughter of thegdead lady‘;iand Barbara, the
daughter ofithe”, transportedifztelon. Judith.
the mothersinflawiicame to take charge or
them, and  fur the first time the whole
story. . She a crafty old woman, wa-
Judith, with little love for the daughter-in~law
or granddaughter. whom she'had come to tak
care of. But she was wicked, ambitious,
and mischievous, and a demoniac plot at oncu
zen‘tered into her head. A letter was dispatched
to the gentleman in India—he was an ofllcer
too—telling him that the Wildmans were about
to leave for America, and that he had better"
come and take charge of .his daughter. 
Shirley, he came; but "it was not his daughter
hes-received from the old wOman, but her
granddaughter; The children. were not unlike;
both had the same fair complexions, and ,ligh
hair. and. blue eyes.: The real Victoria wa~
kept carefully out of sight, and he carried off
the false one in implicit trust and placed heu-
in a convent in France. Miss Shirley, I beg--“

' He stoppedand rose hastily, for Miss Shirle
had sprung from her seat, and was confront .
iing him with flashing eyes. ._ . « :

“It is false! Itis false! .Ishall never be
lieve it! What is this you have dared to tel
me, Mr. Sweet?” . , : _

“ The truth, Miss Shirley-” r . . .

“ My God! Do you mean to say that I am
really—«that I am 1103—9 Oh, it is too false
too absurd to hearl _.I will notstopand liste:~
to you any longer.” .  - '

She. turned excitedly to go; but he placed-
himself between her and the door. _ .

“ Miss Shirley,-I beg, I entreat, for Heaven‘s
sake hear me outl It is every word truer. Du
you think I would come here and repeat sum..
a tale, if I was not positive?” = ’ '

“ Oh, Man Dieu! what'is-he
dreaming or avi‘rake?”

:_:“.Ali;s S-irley,wwill, you .i,
me out?” r w l . , . . ~

“' Miss Shirley!” shesaid, with;a sort of wild
ness imher look; “ If what you have, dared to
say be true, I have no right to. that name. I:
has never for one poor .mo‘ment belonged to.
'mel” .. . . . _ .- _

“You are quite right; but;the*ncme, just
now, is of little consequence.  Will you'fi‘bt‘
pleased to sit down and listen while I finish?” a.
.‘ “I ani‘listening-i—go on.” a A  
:-:~She sunk back into the seahnot leaning back
this time, buttsitting erect, her little . white
handsclinging to :one armof the chair,_nthe
wonderful. blue eyesfixed upon. :him .wildnnd
dilated.- . Her cempanion resumed-his seat and
his-story; hisown eyes fixed on-the carpets: 

“The little girl inthe convent, whaboa’e
the name of Victoria;Genevierve Shirley, but
who in reality was Barbara ,Wildman, remained
there until, she wastwelveyears old, whenuthe
Indian. officer, who : fancied himself .heriiathcr,
returned to England, his mother, and hisriaii‘ve
home, ands'zhis little girl, the i supposed heiress
of Castle‘Clii’fe,’ was senior and cameshene.‘
Miss Shirley, to tell yousany more of her. his;
torywould be superflifous;~. but perhapsyou
would like to hearthei stor'wa. the
defrauded. heiress, thereupposed .Barbaralil .11. \
.He. paused tenses if.sheiwouldxspeak,~aud
looked at herpbut oneiglance was: all he dared
venture, and he lowered hisey‘es and-went
hurriedly on: ,1“-  A

“ The sick mother knewnothing of the change
until it wastoo late, and thenshe: Went frantic
with grief. Old Judith, alalmed, asshe very,
Well "might be, managed to rem’ove her 'to
London, by telling her she would-recover her
child there; and when there, gave out she was
mad, and had her imprisoned in a mad-house.

saying 2’ Am .‘

down and hear

 

It is all very dreadful, Miss Shirley, but I

..  t
i  «,whsnpone day they were

 

“ "Extent wandering overEnglgnd‘together. Are

*mair'seenied exceedineg anxious that she .

v.1“ Notwelll, what have

{egrgt to repeat it is all quite true, neverthe-
ess. ,

She covered her face with her hands, and
sunk down among the enshions of the seat,
quivering all over for p. moment, then becom—
ing perfeetl‘y‘ still. , i

.“ The old” woman changed the more»: Wild-
man for. that qf Blackgand during  next
weer three yearslired on? the mdney paid her
by 09101191,. 11116,. "  “to give out,
sunsets...” vedfto‘g   Shirley’s
daughter “he, crimcrei‘i‘ ,  _ nae-the chil-
dren’s'names; ‘tbld yew, were changed-—
K98 ap‘rettylittle‘girl afgning'and attracted
 attention? of; the of a band of
.Wllins-'rhyerfié; Sh'sdnedflha band
< '7 he most,popular"iin§~among.them~and for

i‘e'w next ‘WfiflyMVShe her grandmother

 
    

 

t.
i at

gthoynloekedr‘for appearance of

. _ y m,  Who had made
 escaqu, titted found them out. He, too,
took the”  ' ev~o!;BlgckféPetér'Blwck-—attach—

 , -fi$f3&ifie,'cbnifimy,fand the (hue

 

 

You listeniii‘e'.  Shirle f?“- - .

'He really’tlioughtpshe‘iwas not, she lay so
rigid and. still; butat the question she partly
raised herself and looked at him. '  ,

“ Barbara Black that was—~your write that
is~—-is then the real Victoria Shirley?” -

“She is."

He did not dare look at her; but he felt the
blue eyes were transfixing him and reading
this very heart. It was only for a few seconds,
and then she dropped down among the cushions
again and lay still. ‘

“They came here to Sussex six years ago,
and strange enough settled here. The old
woman and her son had each probably their
own reasons? for so doing. It is an out-ofeiflw,F '
 little. Seacoast tow‘npamf- the;
returned convict was not ambitions to extend .
the circle of his acquaintance; and his moxher, ’
probably,   by‘h‘idesire to;see*..h»w
her wicked and cruel plot worked. So the real
and supposed heiress grew up, both beautiful;
but all similarity ended between them there—-
one in the lap'of luxury, envied, ‘and
happy; the other wretchedly poor,1it'tlé cared.
for and miserable. But I,‘ Miss Shirley, know-
ing nothing of all this, loved her and married
her; and it is‘only  the last day ontwo
these. facts havo comevto my knowledge. I beg
your pardon, but arefyou wally listening?”

He could not tell what to make of her. She
lay drooping over the side of the chair so
immovably that‘shemight havo been dead, for
all the signs of life - she exhibited. But she
was very far from dead; for she answered as
she had done before, and at once; “and the
sweet voice was almost harsh, so full was it of
suppressed inward pain. ‘

“ I am listening. Why need you ask. Go
on.” A

“This miserable old woman was fond of you
-—excu$e me if I pain youaand her excitation
began to come out when she found you were
to be the bride of the first gentleman in Sus-
sex. Her reputed granddaughter, whom she
feared and disliked, was my wife; all her
schemes Seemed accomplished, and, in her tri-
umph, she droppedghints that roused mysus—
picions. I followed them up, suspected a great
deal, and at last, boldly accused her of all.
She was frightened-and denied; but her deni-
als confirmed my suspicions, V and at last I
forced from her” the whole  truth.
It wasn’t over an hour ago. [came here 
mediately. And that, Miss Shirley, is the
whole story.” ' V 

He drew a long‘breath, audlooked. rather
anxious. ' She neither spoke nor moved.

“ Miss'Shirleyl” ' *

“ I am listening."

“ I have told you all.
now?” i ,

“ You are togorand leave me.”

He rose up and walked to the door.

‘ “ Yes, Miss,.Shirley; but I will remain here.
Lady Agnes. and Colonel, Shirley must know
all tonight.” ’

He opened the 'doormnd‘ passed out; The,
hall, in a blaze of light, was deserted; but he
heard the murmur of . voices from the room op-
posite and from below. . ,

“ Yes,” he murmured to himself; “yes, my
dear Barbara, thanks to you, it is all mine at
last. " ‘ ' ‘

 

"What is to is done

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.

THE interview between the lawyer and the
bride-elect had notlasted over a quarter of an
hour; :but, as he stood in the hall he felt that a
strange and ominous silence seemed to have
fallen over the house. As he was about to do;
scaled, the door of the rose more opened,de
the pale and haughty face of Lady Agnes look-
ed out. ~ . - - i

 ‘4 Is yourctmference over?”- she asked.

“Itis over-“my lady.” . . . .

‘f And whereis my, granddaughter?"

“:lnthe drawing-room, my lady.”

,~‘.‘,Why. does she notcome} out?” . .

-.‘ She—she—I am afraid she is not quite
fwell, my lady.” «As. , .- . ~
,.‘;‘ Not well-F’- exclaimed Lady Agnes, fixing
fiber piercing eyes in. stem suspicion on: .him.
you been saying to: her,

When?” . V. . 
‘ “ My lady, pardon me; but I thinkyouhad
better go to Miss Shirley directly.”

“ Very well, sir!» And you will have the
goodness tostay whereyou are untilthis mys-
terious matteris cleared up.” . ;

She swept proudly pastzhim with a majmtic
rustle of hersilk skirts,,and opened the door
oaths wintqrdrawingroom. But she
on, the threshold was a shrill shriek—such a .
shriek as made Mr. SWeet turn ashy white, fer:
rifled the guests below, and made her son come
from the lower hall in half a dozen fleet bounds
togherside. _- :__,U., i « x, '1.“ l.....'
:aYSNia, had fallen: tothe floor, notquite pros;
grate, but her hands  the arm of the:
chair, her headgon mom, and henwholeattie:
tude  It was a mmnge
sight—the , glowing; groom filled withgamher
},ighu, menthesmnden shape with
floating rubeqmisty Nail, :and ' sparkling bridal
wreath,  downin that strange, wmh-
ing,- positiog—its profusion of long ringlets
sweepipfisiiihe.wpet.m3-:  , , .-: V  " *r :

“ The child has fainted I” screamed Lady
was, (for  wretchhas killed her!”
_;.;,;‘,Vivia,a my darlingl’,’.crie.d her. father, fly;
ingdnendsliftiug hen-.inhls “main.“~V.ivia,i
my child, What is the matter?” _ :«  '

,z; My; Agnes was wrong; she had; not faint
ed. , Her eyes were wide open, staringhtraight
before ,her. with a fixed, immoral: look; her
face was quite ghastly; but she smadca feeble
motion~when,raised,_,as if struggling. to get
“Wadi. ._;7i. ., *j  v... .. I.  .-. ‘1‘ , :_ ‘*.<'t

“ Vivia, for Heaven’smaficdotnot. 1001:2802

Yivia, dearest, do you not. know mel”,   '
_The. glazed and fixed. intensity slowly left
her eyes, and they came back to his face with
8. look of. unatterable lo We. _ 1 :
“Dear papal” ’ 
‘,‘ My darling, what is, this? What ails

 

you?” he asked, pushing back the curls from “

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Li
:9 ’fi ’3