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PEARL-LILIES.

BY FRANK M. IMIUIIE.

 

Tonight I ope’d the casket,
* Where your gifts lay cool and fair;
1' Placed one spray upon my bosom,
w And the heart-beats throbbing there
, Shook the pearl-formed valley-lilies
‘ Like flowers trembling in the air.

, Then on memory’s outward billows
 Salled my freighted barque of thought,
f; And I touched the summer glory

Of a dream-land, fancy-wrought—
Drank the wondrous, Witching glory
. Of ambrosia, poison fraught. 1

Ah, the fate-spilled, wasted nectar
Touches quivering lips to—night;

And the gift-pearls glow and glimmer,
In the borrowed splendor’s light;

As the sweet, dead hours grow vivid
By the tear-drops, flashing bright.

In this misty, tear-(Iron mirror
1 see you waiting there

For the rustle of my coming—

4 For my step upon the stair,
,, Smiling when you see your answer,
" On my bosom, in my hair.

’Twas a quaint, suggestive answer
To that dear request of thine:

“ If you love me. oh, my darling,
Let those fair pearl-lilies shine

On your bosom, in your tresses—
Then I’ll know your heart is mine I”

And the wooing semi-darkness
Could not vail my answer sweet,

For your glad eyes learned the secret
Of each vibrant, wild heart-beat;

And Love’s stron enchantment held us,
In a triumph a! complete.

Then—but why recall that moment?
Why livo o’er a dream like this?
. Let it perish with the memory!
24.: Can it? Ah, that deathless kiss
‘ Holds again my maddened pulses
In the thralldom of its bliss.
Force the bands around the casket;
,_ Hide the fated gift from sight,
 For I cannot fuel the wisdom
’ ()f a Father's hand to-ni ht:
Cannot see why life’s fair ilies
Faded in their flower—time bright.

Thorle “Inton’s

Publication Office, ,
’9 William St" New York.

 

 

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—-: OR, :—

THE TWIN BROTHERS’ DOOM.

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‘ Cl IAP'I‘E It IV.

MOTHER AND SON. I’LO'I‘TINH.

 

! 0L1) Mrs. l)enby looked at her white-faced
son in surprise.

“erat is it, my son?"

But Abner did not answer. He was now
holding the sheet close to the streaming gas-
jet, his eyes bent upon it, reading it word by
word.

“What is it, my son?" repeated the old
woman. “What, in that letter, has so up-
, set you?”

LU». i“Didn’tI just tell you?” he answered,

“' roughly. “In this letter to his daughter
Old Grayling shows signs of losing faith in
my houesty, thinks that the income from the
business is falling off too much—#which is an
unaccountable circumstance to him. Bah!
 ; 'But if he was just certain that I was trusty
'1' and faithful ”
' 5 He paused and laughed.

“Well?” impatiently from his mother.

“ Why, he would not object to me even as

 his son-in-law!" muttered Abner, grimly, his
'  eyes flashing over the letter.
_ Q “What! He who once flung my love
'  awn would not object toone of my blood-—”
' ' _ “ listen. 1’]! read you this precious
* letter."

In a low voice he read it through. The
t , mother did not lose a single word.

A  “So! so!" Hhc muttcrcd, as Abner folded
‘ the sheet and slid it back into the envelope.
“That is certainly a comcdown- for old
Gilbert Grayling! Perhaps it, is remorse?
But, think you, my son, that (lracc Gray-
, ;r ling cares anythng for you?”

" I “Not a button! Conformal her, she de-
spises me! But, for all that, l Wouldn’t
mind havngr hcr for my wife-~not 'l! \Vith
her father’s inllucncc to back me there’s
more than a chance that I can win her. lly
Jove! he shall have conlidcnce in me; Grace

rayling is a stake worth playing for."

He arose and promenaded the room for ten
minutes.

“How can you reestablish his trust and
.g. confidence in you, Abner?" asked themother,
f r unable to be Silent
3'! “Just what I was thinking about,” he re
 n plied, pausing and throwing ,himself again
‘ nto his chair. “I think l have hit upon a
. plan that will work, though I’ll have to
' sacrifice something—— that is for a time.”

' “Sacrifice? I hope not money?" _

“Yes, money, for— There, don’t inter-
 . mpt me! You see, I have managed to lay
if T away two thousand dollars, withoutaceount-
* f, ing for it in Gilbert Grayling’s books. I had

i intended it for my own pockets. Butl Wlll

, turn it over to him. telling him that l. have
.’ "a ferreted out {someiirregularities, and forced
‘ 3 acollection of that money; you sec?"

1 “Very good. But then you—”
“I understand you ; don’t distress yourself.

 

 

 

 

 

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z. :Z’urncr, M. D.

vr

I’ll get it all back, will bring down two birds
at a shot, and all this very night!”

“ llow? I would like to know!”

“You heard the letter, ch?" and as his
lcaden-blue eyes rested upon her a sinister
smile swept over his white face.

“ Yes—e very word."

“Grayling directs me to hand to his
daughter as much money as she may wish,”
pursued Abner.

“ What of that?”

“ A great deal! I have a ‘ pocketful ’ with
me; and I never pay out money without
taking a receipt.”

“ What in the world are you——-”

“ You are stupid, mother! Don’t you take
my drift? I mean, in plain English, this:
I’ll give Grace Grayling five hundred dollars,
and take her receipt for one thousand! Ha!
ha! She'll never look at the receipt, or
think of counting the money. Old Gray-
ling, on seeing the receipt, will not question
the transactidn; and I~~—why, I’ll get back
the five hundred dollars at once!”

For five minutes the old woman gazed at
him. ller countenauCc showed no repug-
nance at the villainy which her son was so
coolly plotting. So far from it, a gleam of
admiration glittered in her sunken eyes.

“ Goody—"very good, Abner!” she said.

“ Yes; and to begin matters, I’ll write the
mecipt now. 'If the girl detects me, I’ll
have an excuse handy; trust me for that!”

lie drew a sheet of paper toward him, and
wrote a few hasty lines, which he tore off
and placed in his pocket. I

“ Now I’ll fix this letter again, and all w111
be well,” continued Abner; and he proceed-
ed to regum the edge with mucilagc, and re-
seal it. \ It looked as if it had never been dis-
turbcd.

“ So far, so good!” he ejaculated com-
placently. “ Now for a long tramp! I must
no up to Madison Square, to give Grace the
lctlcr and the money. llut ’pou my soul!
with old Grayling to back me, I would—J’

llc hesitated; his pale, narrow brow con-
tracted, while a kindling gleam lit up his
cold blue eves, and an expression, difficult
to delinc, 'grew around his thin lippcd
mouth.

“ What now, Abner?” .

“ Only this: I wish that dark-haired
beauty, Clara Dealt—old Grayling’s ward——
was in Grace’s place. As a w1fc to me, she
would be worth fifty of the latter. Ay!
smooth and bland as she is on the surface,
she is at heart—just like incl—«damng and
devilish! More than all, Clara Dean would
be glad to make a catch of me.”

“Perhaps, perhaps, my son; but do you
love her? Do you love either one of those
high stationed girls?”

i“ Love! LOVE!” and the man seemed
transformed into a fiend. “ Can my callous
heart love anything but money? Five years

ago, it idolized one who was false to me! I!
would have shed its last drop of blood for
the golden-haired Cynthia Summers, who
turned from me and gave her heart to the
dark-browed, imperious Thorlc——”

lle paused abruptly: the white froth of
rage ilccked his lips, and a small red spot
glowed in each of his cheeks.

Almost in terror, the old woman gazed at
him. Fiend though he was by nature, it
was seldom that she saw him as he now was.
\Vith a shudder which she could not repress,
she turned from him.

“ For that alfair I have sworn away Thorle
Manton’s life!” hissed Abner, after a lapse of
several minutes. “Ay! and so has Moses!
who is even now abroad hunting the fellow
down! And traveling, too, on old Gilbert
Grayling’s money," he continued with a
wicked laugh. “He nor I can forget the
lash which that ironarmed scoundrcl struck
across our shoulders!”

“My dear boy. you have cause, to hate
Thorle Manton; I join my prayers to yours,
that the hour of vengeance will soon arrive!
—if, indeed, ere this, Moses has not done the
deed. But where can they be now? ’Tis
long since you heard from Moses.”

“All I know is this: For years I have
been watching the foreign papers, to find
some trace of Thorle Manton who fled the
country after his bankruptcy. More than
seven months ago, I chanced to see his name
in the Allan/1mm?! Oriental, published in
Egypt. He was booked aboard a steamer
bound to Naples. Then, you know, Moses
went abroad, and when last I heard from
him, though he had failed in several oppor-
tunities, he was stillon the track.”

“But if, after all, Thorle Manton is alive
and should succeed in getting back to his
native land, will he, too, not have ample
cause to hate old Gilbert Grayling ?”

“ Ay! ay! The old aristocrat, who pre-
tended to be a great friend of young Man-
ton‘s father, took a mean advantage of the
son’s absence and bought the magnificent
property on the lake, {nown as Manton
Manor. And he bought it for a mere noth-
ing, compared to its real nalue. True
enough, all that! Then, too, the pompous
old aristocrat has changed the name of the
Manor to Grayling Grange! But, hang it,
what do I care for all that? Ihatc’l‘horlc
Manton, and I’ll never be satisfied until he is
under my heel!”

It was now quite late.

A few moments afterward, Abner Denby
arose, put on his overcoat and prepared to
brave the weather outside. As he was about
leaving, his mother drew near him and
asked:

“\thn is
home, my son?”

“ He wrote me that he was to take the In-
man line steamer City of Chester, 3. week
from the date of his letter. I inquired at
the company’s office, and was told that she
was due to-night or to-morrow morning, but
that the heavy gales which have been pre-
vailing, might possibly delay her.”

“Would to heaven that she would go to
the bottom and take down with her old Gil-
bert Grayling and his young wife!" hissed
the old woman.

“Amen! amen to that!”

And Abner Denby strode away in the
snow which was whirling madly through the
deserted streets.

Gilbert Grayling expected

CHAPTER V.
(‘L'T AND THRUS'I‘.—-J.\' THE DEPTns.
“I ASKED a plain question: did you ever
hear of a mam—a young man—named
Thorle Manton ?”

 

 

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a. pistol.

As Clara Dean spoke, her black eyes [lash-
ed covertly over the face of her companion,

As we have mentioned, Grace Grayling‘s
cheeks had paled to an asheu huc, when her
room-mate asked her this sudden question.
Without at once answering, she turned her
face away.

Clara Dean was watching her.

“ Did you hear me, Grace, my dear?” she
asked. in an insimlating tone.

“ Why do you thus question me, Clara?"
demanded Grace, her tone cold and formal.

“Oh, for nothing in particular,” was the
careless reply. “ That young man has a
strange history. He has had many ups and
downs in life; but it now appears that he—"

She smiled softly, and drew her chair
closer to the register, up which the genial
heat was rushing into the apartment.

Grace shot a quick, searching look at her
companion. Do what she could, she frown-
ed.

She had long known Clara Dean, had been
constantly thrown with her since they were
fifteen years of age. And, despite some lit-
tle peculiarities in her father’s black-haired
ward, she loved her; what was more, she had
implicit confidence in her.

But now as she caught a View of Clara’s
face, a suspicion as quick as the lightning's
wing flashed over her. \Vhat did all this
mean? What did it portend? Twice on
this night had Clara introduced topics which
were extremely disagreeable to her. But to
the latter the dark-eyed brunette had never
before referred.

However, Grace drove away her suspi-
cions; she was a guileless, noble-hearted girl.
Moreover, her curiosity had been excited, so
she asked:

“ IVell, Clara, it appears—what?"

Clara shrugged her shoulders and bent her

head to conceal the sarcastic, triumphant
smile that curled her lip, and said very quiet-
l :
“Why this: from last accounts it most
certainly appears that. Mr. Thorle Manton
is now up in the world—considerably up, at
that.’

Grace trembled. What did Clara’s earnest-
ness mean? But, stillcontrolling herself, she
replied:

“ Certainly I have no objection to his pros-
perity; I only wish him well—the more so,
because he was so unfortunate a few years
ago.”

“Your father profited by Manton’s mis-
fortune! Manton Manor is now Grayling
Grange!” ’

These words were spoken with a quiet,
subdued vehemencc.

Grace started; her large brown eyes snap-
ped, and her cheeks glowed like carnations.

“ Surely, Clara, you do not impute wrong
motives, or dishonest action, in this matter?"
she asked, as calmly as she could. “ He was
the highest bidder; had he not purchased the
estate, some one else would—and at a lower
figure than papa paid for it.”

“ It was a great bargain!” muttered Clara,
drny; though she hastened tojadd: “ It was
only right and not at all dishonest that your
father secured it. But,” in a lower tone,
“it’s said that Mr. Grayling and Mr. Man-
ton, long since dead, were bosom friends.”

Again G 'ace frowned; and, as her bosom
rose and fell tumultuously, she answered
hotly:

“ Dishonest! Ihopc you do not mean to
insinuate any sach thing, Clara Dean!"

“I said no such thing, Grace,” was the
tart reply. “ But if my memory serves me,
you once told me that your father had re-
ceived a bitter letter from Thorle Manton,
written from some almost unheard-of place

Copyrighted l895,
By Beadle and Adams.

in the East; and he spoke right out just that
same thing.”

“ Yes, true enough; but Thorle Manton, at
the time, did not know it was only my father‘s
generosity which kept him from buying,
likewise, the old, broken-downrookcry known
as the Lodge. By that generosity, the young
gentleman, if he ever returns home, will
certainly have a shelter, at least.”

Grace spoke earnestly.

“ Yet, my dear, you certainly cannot for-
get that your father wrote you from Europe,
some months since, that he still intended to
purchase the old Lodge estate—that his
prompting motive was resentment, because
young Manton had written him such a letter?”

Grace had, indeed, forgotten this.

“ Well, it would only serve him right,” she
said, in a vexed tone. “ But enough of this,
Clara, if you please! You asked me if I
had ever heard of Thorle Manton when you
knew very well that I had. Now——”

“ Perhaps you had not heard of him late-
ly?——of his prosperity, his sudden and im-
mense wealth?” persisted Clara.

“ His wealth—no! And you?”

“ I have; and it was only to-night in ma-
dame’s study-room. You know she takes
French newspapers regularly. I can read
French, and in one of those papers, La Patric,
I read a certain interesting paragraph only
a few hours ago. I’ll translate it if you will
listen.”

“ Go on,” said Grace, interested, despite
her recent anger.

Clara drew from her bosom a crushed
newspaper, unfolded it, and read as follows,
translating as she proceeded:

“ A distinguished American, fabulously
rich, has just arrived in the city, and is regis-
tered at the Grand Hotel. He has been ab-
sent from his native land for several years,
having spent most of his time in the Far
East. ’Tis rumored that his life was attempt-
ed a few nights ago in the shadows of the
Champs Elysees by some miscreant The
attempt, however, was frustrated by the
gentleman’s bravery and presence of mind,
but more immediately by his faithful Ilindoo
valet, whose life, ’tis said, the gallant Ameri-
can onee saved at imminent peril to his own.
The two create a great sensation, as, side by
side—master and man—t hey dash over the
boulevards and through the Bois de Boulogne
in a magnificent equipage. ’Tis not known
if monsicur will return to America or remain
in our own gay capital. Our reporter learns
from the hotel register that the gentleman's
name is Thorle Manton. and that of his trusty
valet is Margoun, which, in lIindoostanee
means‘ The Watchful.’ ”

Clara slowly refolded the paper, and cast
it upon the table; but her eyes closely swept
her friend's face.

Grace leaned her cheek upon herhand, and
seemed lost in thought. She was not left
long to her musings.

“ Who can tell but that Thorle Manton
may come back to the Grange—to his old
manor~housc, and try to get possession of
what was once his, and which he inherited
from a long line of ancestors?” inquired
Clara.

“He cannot get it back, replied Grace,
hastily. “The estate was sold for debts,
and with the purchase-money, which papa
paid out, Mr. Manton‘s many debts were set-
tled.”

“ Yet stranger thingshave happened! The
young man might claim illegality of pro-
ceedings, that he was not notified, etc., and
he would have a good ‘ case.”’

Grace Grayling’s face grew serious; her
brow clouded. \Vhat her companion had
said, though only in surmise, made her un-
easy. ~
“But, Grace, my dear,” continued the
brunette. and in a low tone, “ did you ever
hear of Thorle Manton’s love-scrape, here in
New York, some half-dozen years ago?”

“ I don’t care to talk further about him,
Clara, if it is the same to you,” was the cold
reply.

“ Oh! very well; I thought itmight interest
you. He loved a gay, young damsel by the
name of Cynthia Summers. The affair—”

“ Yes, I recall it; and Thorle Manton
horse-whipped my father’s head clerk for
pushing himself into her presence,” interrupt-
ed Grace, 9. little maliciously.

ClaraDean‘s face flushed, and her rich,
red lips went tightly together. The shaft
had found a mark! But the maiden rc-
joined:

“ Despite all that, your father‘s ‘ head clerk’
has lifted, and does lift, his eyes to the rich
young heiress, his employer‘s daughter.”

Grace‘s checks glowed, as she snapped
out:

“ The white-faced, dull-eyed servant! I
despise him! I only wonder that my father
keeps him. lie is tricky and untrustworthy.
No, no, Clara,”—and she forced back her
usual good huruor—~“ I’ll leave Abner Denby
to you—if you like him!”

“ Perhaps you will wait for the coming of
Thorle Manton! For, though he is past thirty,
he is rich, and riches cover a multitude of
blemishes. Besides that, such an alliance
would obviate much trouble and annoyance
concerning the Grange estate, which may—”
“ No more of that, Clara! Not another—
Ha! a caller at such an hour, and on such a
night?”

Grace suddenly ceased as the front door-
bell jangled through the large building.

A few morncntslator :1 servant knocked,
and entered the room. '
“ A gentleman wishes to see you in the par-
lor, Miss Grayling,” she said.

“ )Ie! why—”

“ Yes, ma’am; here’s his card.”

7’

 

Grace took the card and glapccd at it. A , -

 
   
  

   

       
  

  

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