a” Co 2.3 e + acting, half earnest. She felt reckless this morning —equal to either fate! After all who could tell? The glittering gas-lit life ofthe stage, with its music, its plaudits, its fiowers, its rows of eager admiring faces might be hard to win, but once won would it not be infinitely preferable to the deathly dullness of existence dragged out as the wife of the rich and respectable Mr. Donald MeKelpin? Andif her dark, bold eyes and gipsy face really brought her money and fame, why then she might send for Freddy and marry him, and ‘live happy ever after.” Mile. Stephanie stoed listening to Miss Hendriel 3 vehement outburst with Knitted brows and pursed up lips, utterly perplexéd and ata ldss, {Widowed Bride” was commenced in No. 23. Back numbers ean be obtained from any News Agent inthe United State] CHAPTER XXY.—CONTINUED. Alice Percival looked very lovely in her white dress and blue-ribboned. hat, as they drove along the wiid aud se- cluded road leading to Cresslyn Church, the next day— Ernest thought she had never been half so beautiful, and the determination to callher his own waxed stronger in his heart with every moment. ‘ “Whatmakes you so silent, Ernest?’ she ventured to ask; after one or two wistful glunuces at his absorbed face, when they had Jeft Tregarvau rectory behind them by. a mile or two, “T was thinking how best to tell you what I have to im- part this moruing,” le said, his grave lips softening into au smile. She grew a little pale. “Ts it bad news, Ernest ?’? “| dou’t regard it in that light, myself,’? he answered. “Then Tam not afraid to hear it.’ “Shall [speak on?) he asked, and she replied: “Yes? ; “Well, then, it is this, Alice—we must be married this morning!’ “Ernestt? “{ knew you would be surprised, my little one, but since you have promised to give yourself to me, what dif- ference can it be whether it is a few days sooner or later. You are willing to trust'me, Alice?’ “Yes—oh, yes, Ernest, but—it is so sudden! I have not written to Rena—I have not toid Mrs. Eskett, whe has been so very, very Kind to me!’ “All that can be done afterward, my dearest, but. cir- cumstances have occurred which renders my stay at Tre- garvan exceedingly uncertain, and I must make sure of my precious prize at once. Listen, my darling. You, who have lived in seclusion all your days, can form no idea of the plots, and plans, and schemes which form part of the real world. Iamsimple Ernest Evelyn, a captain in the —th Dragoons, with nothing but my pay to live on, and my mother, who is one of the most ambitious women in England, is determined that Ishall secure wealth aud ease by marrying some heiress or other,’’ Alice had grown pale. “But, Earnest, not if you did not love her!” “Lovel’’ he echoed, with a bitter laugh. “My Alice, love enters but little into the calculations of the world. No—if I go back to Glenhampton, I shall be drawn into the yortex which it is impossible to resist. It rests with you, my guardian angel, to save me from a life which 1 ee to contemplate! Will you turn from my plead- pgs She involuntarily nestled nearer to him. “How cau l save you, Ernest ?’? “By becoming my wife atonce. Alice, you will con- Sent? Once indissolubly bound to each other, no earthly power can avail to sever our united futures; we shall have nothing to fear!! ‘ Sencar into his face, and placed her hand trustingly in his. “It shai be as you wish, dear Ernest.?? “My owtdarling, you can never know from what you have saved mhe,”? he murmured, almost inaudibly. And they were married under the hoary, echoing arches of Cresslyn Chureh by a sleepy-looking young curate who, probably, Supposed.them to be one of the many run-a- way English couples\who sought thie outskirts of tne sister kingdoms, to consummate their unions, sometimes from sheer love of the romance of the thing, sometimes from deeper and more substantial motives! The noonday sunshine touched the beautiful young bride’s hair with lustrous gleams of geld, as she came made husband, and his heart turilled high with exultant pride and ‘love. ‘My Alice,” he whispered, bowing’ his head to her, ‘‘vou do not regret the step you have taken?’ i “Regret itp? She echoed the words with such soft, incredulous ten- tune, Jack always found his fortune, however, and But, Cyrilla, good gracious! ?his*is awful. “Dot Last night 1 rather dreaded mee to-day I don’t seem, greatly ican always make my own living.” ot ~~ Oyrilla a, lope hres! of relief There had] » pee eri ior it, but the day was won. The Widowed Bride out of the church porch, Jeaning on the arm of her newly. derness that it gave a néw happiness to ‘this moment. of bliss. “And Heaven helping me, you never shalll’? he added. Ernest Evelyn had been a trifler all his life, but his character was developing now, in the elevatiug influence of this new, genuine love, as & Nuwer grows in the showers and sunshine of aspring day! Alice Percival was the sweet, ennobling spirit that drew him nearer to his own better self... 8 the aflernoon drew toward sunset, and the sunset { SOltened into peurly twilight, and the sight-seers did not return, Mrs. Eskett began to grow. a little uneasy, & ee oughtto beathome by this ti _she said, for the twentieth time xt least. ‘1 do hope nothing as happened? 44 uh Ges Wee ke Why, what should havehappened, my dear?’ said the rector.» Don’t fret—don’t fret, they’ll be‘home in time!” “But i018 eight o'clock? "4 it is nine I'll bégin to worry tool laughed the rectop. ‘Let the poor fellow enjoy this oue day—as you said yesterday—it is hig fast!" why i. oA am heartily glad of it,? said Mrs, Eskett,, who, in sp f the interest she felt.in this apparently blighted r was veryneariy out of temper! “What is-it Want, my good man?" for at at monrent a& ded old man stood in the doorway, making his ‘Dow Over and over again with Wneeasing persistency, and trying to extract. from the cover of his hat somethlug which lad apparently got wedged in therel “Pigase, ma’am, I be come all the way from Cresslyn to see Muster Eskett, him as is the rector here. The young gentleman gived me a letter as was to be guvin his ow,n-diands ?"* / : “Iam Mr, Eskett,’ said the. rector, taking the letter which the stranger had brought. Mrs. Eskett summoned the man of all work to take the inessenger into the kitchen and give hima glass of home-brewed ale after hig walk, aud then Went-back to her husband’s study. . ~ . “Ralph, what is the matter? Any news from——?’’ ‘Yes,’ sail the rector,» quielly refokling tlhe lettery anil placing it Quce More iu the greasy envelope; ‘They ure married.” “Married!” echoed Mrs, Hskett, her breathfairly taker away by the suddenness of the tidings, . ‘What! Captain Evelyn and Alicet? ; : : ~“Yés—at Cresslyn Ohurch, this morning,” said. Mr, Es- kett; Wiio, although he was jin the habit of getting sorely perplexed and belogged about the trivial ovcurrences of life) never lost his presence of miud iu great emergencies. | “They wih be! back hereto _glaim our hospitality, ‘he writes, da, three days, Where did 1 putrany ped, ny dear??? ' : ta “What are you going to do?!’ asked Mrs. Eskett. “Tam going to telegraph, at once to the Earl of Glen hampton!? —_—-— CHAPTER XXVI. ELISON POLWHEAL'S DEATH-BED. For the lastifew years ‘Adelbert, ‘Earl of Glenhampton, had ied a wanderilig and uncertain life, speuding but Jit- tle of his time im his own native land. Tire great: grief of his youth seemed to grow heavier, aud more poignant as Lie years crept on, instead of yielding to the influence of the great enclianter Time—and there were periods when his triends almost feared for the preservation of his rea- son—periods of shurp, spasmodic grief, when the past seemed to become once more present, and tlie buried ghosts of the départed anguish rose up from their ‘sepul- cher, and seemed to coufrout him face to face! He had been spending some months in Paris; where the air seemed to agree with his broken health, and the society of afew choice friends seryed to keep hin: from too much companionship with hisown meditations, and it was there that Mr. Eskett’s tele- gramreached him, It was short and succinct: ' “Cone to me at once if you are alive and capable of traveling. For Heaven’s sake, do not delay! R. Eskxtt, Tregarvan Ree- tory, Cardiganshire, Wales.” Lord Glenhampton read the dispatch two or three times over, as men will read such things, as if a second or third perusal could extract a hidden meaning uuperceived in the first glance, “T wonder what has happened ?” he thought. “It cannot pos- sibly be that old Elison——, but, nonsense! she mnst be dead and buried long ago! Nevertheless bwill go—-if Eskethis illor in any trouble, I should be the man of all others to.be by his side!” And so Lord Gienhampton’s Valet was surprised by. orders to pack a portmanteau at once forthe evening train. “T am going to England,” was all the explanation he youch- } safed to give. The night in which_they crossed the channel. was dark and tempestuous, and as Lord Glenhampton stood on deck, wrapped in his dark coat-cloak histthemglts traveled afar off into the certainties of the pastyand th ue possibilities of the future. “T have felt strangely ‘toward England of Jate,” he pohdered to himselty ““WereDa@ more stanch believer in signs and omens,.1 should believe it to .be the mysterious neneder ee of somemnknown band; but believe I have passed the peri of superstitions, Had oe ee to render my presence at Glenhampton necessary ith would have sent: for me, almost Wish Eskett had been.a little more circumstantial in his telegram.) > Coe, ee Eten a railway+girded land delays are sometimes inevitable, and it was not until the filth dayatter the Rector of Tregarvan had sent his telegraphic message that ‘the Earl of Glenhampton descended from the car which had brought him from the rail- way Station at the honeysuckle-canopied wicket-gate of the gar- den in which stood therectory, ; Through the open study window the earl could catch a glimpse of his friend’s,bald head, beading over his papers_as absorbedly as if there were no outside world of bloom and light and fra- re rance. BB Eb A AEP he ¢ : : The click of the garden gate latch roused the rector from his studious trance. He sprang up, and in another moment had the earl. by both hands ina delighted grasp, and led him iuto the quiet little rectory parlor. 3 “You telégraphed ta me?- * . +3 “Yes—I—I telegraphed to you!” said+xe rector, rubbing his nose in evident embarrassment. “I lad something to tell you— something 1 thougiat, at the time, you could break to Lady Glen+ hampton better tham any one else. But I was, perhaps, a little premature—it seems he lias written to her.’ “Hel. Whom do yuu mean??? demanded the puzzled earl. “Why, Erpest—Ernest Evelyn. ’ Lora Glonhampton, seating Heis married.” “Indeed? And. to whom??? asked the earl, not by any means with the astovishment that Mr. Eskett-had expected tosee. The rector was just opening. his lips te reply, when the door opened and a slender fizure glided in, leading little Phebe by the hand—the figure of the .bride of less than a week, her bright hair hanging reund her face in shining gold-brown tresses, her violet-blue eyes sparkling with: innocent happiness, and her cheeks glowing like the roses that swung athwart the casement at every breeze. baat SERGE 98 ft For an instant Lord Glenhampton sat pale and rigid aaiffhe had been suddenly turned to # statue of ice, and then herose up, holding to the arm of the clair for support, and gasping for breath. ‘ “Child, who are you?’ he exclaimed, his gaze fixed upon her as if she had been an apparition from: another world. ig Alice stood mute and startled. The rector hurried to his’ friend’s side. ~ cae “Glenhampton, what is it ?” he asked, eagerlv. ‘‘Are you ill?” “Tt is Allegra, my wife!” broke in faltering accents trom.the earl’s pale lips—‘'my dead wife !—my lost treasure |—smiling up into my face asshe smiled twenty years ago! Eskett! Eskett! don't you see her very face ?? 5 Bs “You torget, old friend; that 1 never saw the first Lady Glen- hampton,” said the rector ot Tregarvan, soothingly. r % “Shall L go away, Mr. Eskett ? asked Ali at the sound of her voice. a shudder thrilled: througih-Lord Glen- hampton’s whole frame. i “Tell me, Lsay, who you are?” he exclaimed, looking at her as if he expected thatthe next moment she would vanish iuto thin air. “Il am Alice,” she answered, softly. “Alice? Alice whot? “Alice Evelyn,” she’ made reply, with a blushing hesitation to speak her new name. “No!” he cried, vehemently; “you are not Alice Evelyn—you are little Allegra, who died eighteen years ago—the little Allegra who had her mother’s eyes aud her mother’s voice.” “My dear friend,” interposed the startled rector, “I do not think you know what you are saying: Travel and*loss of sleep have worn you out, Let me take youto your room, where you can rest a little.” But the Earl of Glenhampton disregarded his imploring ap- eal. , “Can a man refuse to. believe the evidence of his own senses??? 4 he asked, scornfully impatient of contradiction. “But, Glenhampton, if she be, as you say, and as we all know, dead——”” , “Sue is not.dead!” impatiently interrupted the earl, who seemed to be under the influence of some overweening conyic- tion, which had taken possession of him, soul, brain, aud heurt. *Do I not tell you that she stands here, living and breathing, be- fore me ?”” 4 “She les buried at Glenhampton,” soothingly interposed the rector. At this juncture the opposite door was opened, and the servant looked apprehensively in... ; “T beg your parding for a-interruptin’ of you, Mr Eskett, but Hester Jones has just come down’ from that old woman Poi- wheal’s; and, please sir, they don’t think as she can last mucli longer. It’s her own belief as she’s goin’ outwith the tide, sur, at sunset; and Hester thinks she hadn't ought to be let to die withouten so much as @ prayer said over her.” “Is it Elison Polwheal ?” asked Lord Glenhampton, turning to the rector: Mr. Eskett nodded assent. “The finger of Providence isin this thing,” said the earl ama low, tremulous voice. ‘‘We will both go to Elison Polwheal, If there is a key to'this mystery she possesses it, and she alone. Al- legra—my little Allegra—you will come with us?” He took her hand as he spoke and drew her toward-him. The tenderly-spoken name sounded strangely sweet in her ears, be- wildered though they were by the strange occurrences of the moment. “Yes,” she answered, although her heart beat a pulse or two more rapidly than usual, and she could not help wishing that Ernest had returned trong lis trout fishing expedition among the hills, for her to lean upon his counsel and advice; “I will go with you,, sir!” F e “Ts it far ?? Lord Glenhampton asked of the rector, “Several miles,.buat the little wagon is at the door. ing to the village this afternoon.” The cottage, or rather hut, where old Elison Polwheal lay dy- ing, was a rude structure of mud and stone, with a steep thatch- ed roof, and an immense stone chimney, into which the swallows outs ever and anon seeming to lose themselves in its yawning depths. Heater Jones, that old woman’s grand-daughter, who hud come across the fields by a short cut, had reached the cottage before them, and now stood curtesying in the doorway. “She’s a bit better, gentlemen,’ she said, as she made way for them to enter, ‘but it’s the death-stroke is on her. Piease to sit down, gentlemen, and Mrs, Evelyn; it’s a mortal poor place for the likes of you, but it’s clean as soap and sand can make it.” Upon alow wooden. bedstead, opposite the door, and directly beneath aslit-like window, lay a very aged woman, propped up by pillows, and with ner yellow hands crossed on the outside of the coverlid. Her face was as sunken and rigid as thatof a corpse, and the, nose and chin nearly met... The light, blue eyes, plainly visible through the half-closed lids, shone with a strange glassy luster, and the disheveled gray hair lay loose over the pii- low, like the wild tresses of a pictured Fury. “I can’t keep a cap on her head, do what I will,’ apologized Hester, trying to smooth the stray locks; “‘so I’ve just giv’ up a- tryin’. Granny, granny, the rector’s come all the way from Tregarvan to see you,”” she added, raising her voice to a high- pitched scream. Mr. Eskett advanced to the bedside, saying solemnly: “Peace be to this house, and to a}l that dwell in it.” Lord Glenhampton leaned'silently againstthe wall, and Alice stood by the door, marveling at the strange scene in which she coon herself, and half-terrified, in spite of her resolution to be rave. } Old Elison’s drawn face stirred wilh some dim perception of what was passing around her. _ “He’s very kind, and I’m thankful to him, lass,’’ she answered, in a shrill, piping voice; “‘but there ain’t nothing he can do for me. It’s all atween me and my Maker now.” “Tell her who is here, Hester,” said Mr. Eskett, with a motion of his hand toward Lord Glenhampion. “Granny!” shrieked Hester again, “‘there’s a grand gentleman come with him ‘from turrin parts—the Earl of Gienhampton,” and Hester unconsciously curtesied, as she uttered the august pame, I was go- Elison Polwheal opened her ¢yes wide and strove to lift her heud frum the pillows, } : | her eyes fixed with an Piaget , half-terrified; and | «04 THE NEW YORK WEEKLY. =~ ‘Earl of Glenhampton?’ she repeated. “Who is it that’s talk- in’ about the Earlot Glenhampton? I knew his lordship once, but that was years ago,’ “He's licre now, grauny!”eried Hester. And at the same moment the earl advanced to where she could see his face, For an instant she stared fixedly at him, asif to be certain that it was really he whom she beheld. “And what brings ye here, Lord Adelbert Glenhampton?” she asked, speaking @slow nd ineiollo “tones. “Are ye come to spirit: f worlar I knew it would be at my bedside when the “ind nights my soul hus gone jor yours Ci Sait Lord Glenhan ies searching with distinct \ ‘ er knew it!” 8 h nd on the Bible né auswered. “My litth n whe I sitis uot they a”? : } She advanced, witha look of awe upon her dovel¥@goung face, and bent her eyes se- riously on Elison Polwl@alsglinsty face. — “One of them stands berore you now,” said Lord Gleniamp- ton. “I knew her when I saw her, from her wonderful likeness to her buried mother.” i “And it is to methatshe cwes her life,’?,said Blison, her restless fingers working ceaselessly at the coverlid on Which they lay. “Let them go away, Lord Gienhampton; and Lill tell you all—‘ the Lord be praised that may mulls conscience can »be lightened of itsload, even though it be at the eleventh hour!” | J. ; Mr. .Eskett motioned Hester Jones and Aliee Evelyn to"with draw, himself remaining by the window beyond Elison’s vision, at a signal from the earl—and the dying woman commenced her story of treachery and wrongym a tone that had grown low and hoarse: ‘It was “alP-plarined, mx Jord, before’ you went with her to Italy. Ever since there was..the likelihood of -a child bein” borir to lier she grudged the little thlugs the ground they trod on, the clothes they wore, the very air they breathed—it was. all’ some- thin’ taken away from her own child—and she -used.to sit at her window, with her chin leanin’ on her hand, and her eyes fixed on them little ones, as if she could ha’ murdered them and thoughtitnowrong. ‘For’ éven “tlie” wild” beasts, my lord, they have an instinet for their own young, and there wus always a streak of the tigress ln Lady Edith’s hot Indian blood. We never said much about it in words, my lord, but I understood” What slie wanted, and I promised her it should be done—that when she came back troin foreign parts they should not stand in her way.?? “Woman!"’ gasped Lord Glenhampton, “you did not dream of —marder!” : “I must tell my tale in my own way,” crooned Elison, irrita- bly. “Murder! Why, we that had Hved in India thought no more of such things than of killing a troublesome insect who had-stungwus. Human hbife isn’t thesame.thing there that it is | here. Where was 1 ?—yes, [remember now. She went away— hut my heart somehow failed me. Idid not let the Httle inno- ceuts their death in the river that ram at the foot of the flelds. There was a gardener at the place, who was a poor feeble thing—he was going to, thesouth of France with a colony, to work inthe vineyards—and when they all thought the babes.was dead in the river bottom, oe was miles away in Jason Gar- field’s care. I paid him well for it—l could afford to do it, for my lady had been as generous as a queen!’ “But the corpses that were buried ?” eagerly broke in Mr. Es- kett, unable longer to conceal his presence. But Elison did not seem to mind it. ~ : ; “Wait!”? she muttered, rubbing her forehead, feebly. “Wait! I remember it all—but ye put me out! Yes—the corpses. When the time had come, I took them myself from a. far-away ceme- tery churchyard—I knew where they were and how to get them, for we who have learned the secrets of the East have wayspand means you do not wotof—and I dressed them in the babes’ clothes, and I laid them in the water where they would be sure to be found—and you, Mr. Eskett, thought you were saying tie funeral prayers over Lord Glenhampton’s daughters, when they were only Madge Holson’s poor little twins that died of scarlet fever two weeks before, and was put under ground at the parish charges!” “And what became of Jason Garfield 7? “(don't know,’ said Elison, her voice growing faint and dreamy. “He used to send to me for money every year—he was good to the little ones, I know, for he ‘was a kind-hearted crea- ture, though weak—but of late years I heard no more of him. He’s dead, Isuppose. Well, well, we must all die, and I’ve lived out more than the years of man or woman, already! And now, Lord Adelbert, you know it all! My lady cannot harm a dead woman, or her vengeance would follow me even to the gravel’ she added, shuddering. “But tell herI kept her secret in life, and if Fate has undone her work it is through no fault of Elison Polwheal’s. Close the casements—and go away, you that have chr ud @ dying soul, forl’ye naught more to do with the wor ; And the next.morning, when Lord Glenhampton and his re- covered child, whose identity, especially after her own simple re- cital of the wandering Jife and the strange end of the old man Jason Garfield, whom she had called *‘grandfather,” he could no longer doubt were on their way toward Glenhampton, Hester Jones Came to tell the reetor that old Elison was dead! € CHA XXVII. 4 RENA A DISCOVERY. ‘Rena Percival, all umawares@f the ghostly fingers of Fate that were slowly but surelyanray ig the mystery of her own life, Was sitting at her window, on@@heek resting on her hands, and k on the distant deer which 2 ny slopes of Gienhampton Park, ded at lier door. She started, as if it had been a peal of artillery, Mee That moment her thoughts were tar away from all surrounding objects. “Come in!” she'said, almost dreading to see any one appear just atthat moment But it was neither Gad este: full of her happy love, nor Georgine Cut ee rin despair as to whether she should wear ping, - that evening at dinner, that appeared—it was Antonia Clive. "> “Will you go with me to visitthe unused rooms in the Haunted browsed coutentedly on tl Tower this ‘evening, Miss Percival ?”” she asked. “Gertainly—at “any time!’ Rena answered, glad to escape from Paprrcianc oly ty of her own thoughts for even a brief Xo, b rs. has gone for them.” She sat down by. ere fer z omeKea dreanmy vor upon the glowing Mrs. Wadesleigh “My lady is with it sounds like they was I daren’t make bold to: ppius eg TE and , MW }together, Miss ve, and ask her for th keys,” she said, smooth- ing her aD Ot Ee Aan eae “Nonsenset I will go myself for them,” said Antonia, rising impatiently. “I know where she keeps them, and she has nevet relused me I cpah SE aed * 7 Mrs. Wadesleigh looked after Miss Clive with mingled adniira- tion and apprehension at her courage. “To be sure,” she said, “Miss Clive’s a favorite with my lady, but J would never dare to go against her most particular horders, as long as I valleyed my situation!? ==. “whyt? asked Rena, carelessly. “What difference does it make? / ss Se . cially particular about the tower keys,” said “My lady’s s: Mrs, Waudésleigh ; ‘‘and it ain’t for no reason, neither, as I knows on; only we has all of us our ways, and my lady’s dreadful set iu hers, as it becomes a Countess of Gleuhampton to be, for——” u , fo She stopped, for Miss Clive at that moment returned keys in her hand. ude Lr a ADS - knew Ishould find them,” she said, quietly. ““Miss Perci- val, come.’? ~ . , ae “And if [might make bold to haccompany you,” ‘said Mrs. Wadesleigh, “it might be good: hopportuaity for me to see as everything wasn’t ruined houtright by moth and mildew, for in my humble hopinion it ain’t no good “shuttin’? uprooms away from the sunshine‘and fresh hair days hin and days hout.” “Come it-you choose,” said” Miss Clive, carelessly. They crossed the court’and ascended the narrow spiral stone Stairway thatled up tothe unused room inthe tower, directly above the dreary chamber where Arthur Hunsworth’s corpse had laiti years ago, and Antonia Clive fearlessly turned the Key in the’creaking wafds of the lock and threw open the ancient, ouk-panneled door. A gust of confined air, like the unwholesome exhalations of a charnel-house, rushed out upon them, “The Lord ’av mercy on us!” said Mrs. Wadesleigh; “these windows do want hopening the worst way. I’m glad I came up with you, though my hold legs ain’t what they used to be, as far as stairs is concerned.” Rena looked round with mingled awe and curiosity, holding, childlike, to Miss Clive’s black dress as she did so, for there was something weird and uncanny about the place, The suite of apartments consisted of one large room, with two smaller ones opening out of it; the floor of dark, waxed wood, was powdered over with fine dust, on which their footsteps made a labyrinth of tiny tracks, and folds of moth-eaten tapestry fluttered trom.the walisof the larger apartment. A huge chimuey-piece, its fire- place inlaid with antique china tiles, occupied nearly oné end of the room, and the three windows opposite were» closely shut- tered and draped with curtains of some dark, heavy.stuff, which hung in straight, fanereal folds from ceiling to floor. As Mrs. Wadesieigh looped back these hangings, unclasped the shutters, and flung wide open the Jattices, a stream of ‘sunshine flowed raciantly in, making the huge room look even more-des- olate than it did betore, aud Reta could see that the angles were filled -with useless lumber, such ds Collects in every house— broken chairs, ros of carpeting, pictures with their faces turned toward the wall, and heaps of books and papers, while. broken china dragons grinned at her from the tall chimney-piece, and she had. nearly stumbled’ over the canopy of a broken state- chair, whose velvet-cushioned back lay on the floor, a forgotten pa fas the past. “Dear me! dear me!” said Mrs. Wadesleigh, “if these books ain’t well-nigh ruinationed by the rats and mice!” She difted up,one or two as she spoke, and turned over their benibbled leaves with a piteous air of deprecation. “~Phey are of RO consequence,” said Antonia, absently, “IT beg your pardon, Miss Clive, for contradictin’ of you, but books is buoks,”» said the housekeeper, dogmatically; ‘and I never could abear to see ’em go to destruction.. And the moth is in the tapestry too, as I live, and a big ole heaten out of the side of King Belshazzar’s nose. Dear me! dear me!’' Mrs. Wadesleign, lifted the, folds and shook them out with a reyerent hand, while Rena stoops to examine a carved work-box or cabinet, on antiquely-fashioned feet, which had been couceaied by the heavy fringe of “King Belshazzar'’s Feast,”—the evident subj.ct of the piece of, tapestry, as Mrs. Wadesleizgi knew by tra- dition, aud Rena by conjecture, “What curious old Japanese toy is this ?? she asked, moving it forward. “it is like yeliow bone, all carved with black carvings like lace-work1” Mrs. Wadesleigh dropped King Belshazzar, thereby filling the air with fine ashes—like dust. “Yellow bone !??) she cried, supercilously. “Why, it’s the finest of lWivory,as King Solomon’s ships uxed to bring over, with hasses and peacocks—and where it’s: been all these years, I, for one, can't pretend to say. Whiy, Miss Percfval, that work-box belonged to Lady Glenhamptou when she was Mrs, Evelyn, tiventy two good years ago!”? “May I look at it?” asked Rena. “There’s no reason you sliouldn’t,” said Mrs. Wadesleigh, and Reni lifted the lid. The interior was as quaint asthe outside. There were curious little drawers, with silver Knobs inside, boxes, and needle cas- kets, each fitting into its peculiar niche with an exactitude and economy of space only seen in articles of Eastern workmanship; but pe deep, narrow receptacle, whose lid Rena lifted off, was empty. “I wonder what used to be kept here?” she asked, trying vainly td sound its depth with herslender forefinger. ‘See, Miss Clive, what a piece of ancientry Lhave found!” j Miss Clive came from the opposite side of the room where she had been looking at one or two dingy old paintings, black with age, whose canvasses were cracked so as nearly to obliterate the subjects portrayed on their surface. “What is it?” sheasked. ‘Let me look at it! . Rena made way for her—but as her eye fell on the sey carved box, yellow with age, and exuding a singular pertume the sandal-wood and teak, sle uttereda low cry, and clasped her lands to her forehead. . “You have seen it before ?? asked Rena. “Then you can tell me its history—all these old things must have histories of their pri. wt belonged to Lady Glenhampton, when she came herea riae, But Miss Clive did not seem to know what she was saying. “History !? she gasped, the shades of pallor, deadly and trans- arent, coming and going on her cheeks. ‘“Stop—let me think— et me comprehend! Yes, it has a history—you are right! The darkness shall be made light—the hidden things revealed !”” “What do you mean, Miss Clive ?” asked Rena, in surprise, while Mrs. Wadesleigh stood staring at her two companions in blank astonishment. “*Miss Clive is ill! she exclaimed. ‘Stay you with her, Miss Reua, while I so for a glass of water.” She hurvied away, aud Antonia turnéd to Rena with a haggard Wildness. “My dagger?” she said, in husky accents, which seemed to with the sesame wa struggle up from.beneath a great weight ou ner chest “My dag» erl? Still Rena gazed at her, uncomprehendingly. “I don’t know what you mean!” Antonia caught the concealed weapon from her breast. “Look for yourself, child!” she gas . “Could the Lords hand point out a mystery more plainly? There lies its empty casket. See the earrings—the serpents thesdragon, and the hideous human faces! I Ka eD feart—1 have studied their every line for years?” Dot he. devices tally in every respect? The dagger t Ais death, was er trom that very receptaele. how exactly it ts “, Oa oi cis megegimetr nt in the e casket, and! re- ced Ad: It Was evidelitly the i part of the East dian Hbox. \fie . ig se “But, Mi: Clive!’ eried Rena, reco rs ie speech that had eserted | in/the breathless horror of the Moment, “you must surely,be © en; the work-box belongs to the Countess of *Glenham tas ’ ee © nton sw dark—a Ilvad light fate into her eyes. “T Mam \ 9tot | ken!’ she said, slowly. “Phe work-box be- longs to the Countess of Glenhampton, and it was the hand of the Countess of Gléihampton that murdered Arthur Huns- worth! Sii@—she wr@ught the eruel, dastardly deed—the woman Vhave loved and trast Bd all thes@ years! Bub that is over now, and my revengedivis comé at | , a She broke from Rena’s restr, ng embra@e,and holding the dagger tightly clasped in her Hifnd, rushe n the room as swiltly and as silently as a flyli radow, iy, us she Went: “Revenge! revenge! Atlast! at Jast!” ee CHAPTER XXVIII IN THE BLUE DRAWING-ROOM. The journey across England, in which the Earl of Glenhamp- ton was accompanied by his newly-recovered daughter, was one fraught with thed tand tenderest interest to him. Alice’s recollection of Mer lite with old Jason Garfield—her description of the beautiful sister, who was even now beneath the shadows of her Own ancestral home, never once dreaming of the right that she possessed there—her innocent questions, and the Joy with which her hungered nature took in all the fullness of a father’s love—were alike delightful to the solitary man, who seemed to behold in her once again the lineaments aud expres- sion of the woman lie liad Toved'so dearly and lost so long ugu— Allegra, the first Countess of Glenhampton... it ice—or Allegra, as her tather persisted Dow In calling her— -sbook her headwith a ng blushing laugh, ‘as she looked up once in the course of their journey and bebeki the earl’s dark, sad. eyes fixed upomier with admiring tenderness. " : “You will not haxe a second look for me, papa,” she sat, archiy, “when you have seen Rena. Rena is far, far more beau- tiful than I)” “Ts she like you, aie” “Oh, Ro—no, papa! 2na is—yes, she és like you,” added Alle- gra, the sudden conviction flashing into her mind, as she looked earnestly-into her father’s face. ‘Her profile is like yours, and she has just such dark eyes as you have—but every one thinks Rena so beautiful! You have seeu her, Ernest—tell papa about her.” Captain Evelyn, who was as,yetin ignorance ofthe develop- ment concerning Migimether’s plots and maneuvering wicked- ness, which hag 80 ray tr@pspired, pulled his Mustache a littie awkwardly, and fet hi lt Golor beneath the bronze of sunshine and Wind which the lag fe me had bestowed upon row ali nple, ’ ‘ ' s z : “She’s very handsome,” said Ernest ; “but after all I like this little girl the» best.” “and you are right, Ernest,” said the earl, sadly. “A true- hearted woman is one of the noblestof God’s creatures—a false and wicked one the worst |”? “Papa,” sald «Allegra, softlyy her violet blue eyes fixed upon his face with a wistlul) entreating ‘tenderness, “Papa, do not think of that any more. Itisover und past, and all that remains for us is to forget and forgive.” Captain Evelyn, whose ideas on the subject of the discovery of his beautiful young Wwife’s trae birth were, rather vague and con- fused, inasmuch” as all that he had heard was that the lost twin daughters of ‘the house of Glenhampton proved unexpectedly to be no other than Renaand Alice Percival, looked puzzled. “Forget what? Forgive whom ?”’ he asked. “You will know one day, my boy,” said the earl. let ignorance be bliss.” : } d asudden, involuntary. thrill. passed through bis heart, as he thought how near his cherished children had been to him on the night when the deserted lodge was burned. One daughter nestling in Juxury beneath the frescoed. magnificence of Glen- hampton Castle, the other two waudering forlorn and friendless through the desolaie country roads, and seeking shelter beneath the wayside hedges—what a contrast wasthere! And he bit his lip with stern determination, as he thought of the beautiful, wick- ed woman who had done it all! Bap He had not eyen telegraphed thenews of his intendedaprrivalat Glenhampton. Tt was his wish to appear there with his newly- found daughter without a word of warning which might have sel the couutess maneuvering, anew. | Katherine was there, and her identity, must .not.be divulged until he himselfowas there to rotéect her, forthe earl felt that his wite was too subtle and dangerous to’ be trusted even for an instant with the girl whom she believedthat.her plots had done to death eighteen long years a “Until then, 0. at was nearly noon when the carriage which the earl had en- gaged at the railroad station drove up to the side entrance of the castle, » ex wassitting, nodding in his chair in the hall. He started to his.teet, with a smothered exclamation as the carriage wheels crunched oyer the snow-white gravel. “My Jord!” he exclaimed; “we did not know—we never ex- ceted-—"?. : Pee Hush ?? said Lord Glenhampton, Jifting his finger warningly. “My arrival here isa secret for the present. Let your lips be sealed as you value your place.” “Certainly, my lord,” said the footman, in great bewilder- ment, “Ernest,” said the earl, turning to his stepson, ‘take Allegra at once to your own suite of apartments, I beteve they are gen- erally kept in readiness, whether you are at home or ubroad. She needs rest after her journey, and L should prefer that at pre- sent ste sleuld pot meet the countess.” He never called her “ny wife? again. “But, Rena—my sister, papal” The earl’s stern countenance softened into strange tenderness. “7 will see that you are not long kept apart, my daughter,” he answered, and Allegra, habitualiy obedient, followed her husbaud through the wide, softiy-carpeted corridors. Captain Evelyn pulled mercilessly at his mustache, as he offered his arm to Alle- gra—he only hoped tliat his stepfather’s evident. pleasure in-his marriage might comniunicate ji the countess ‘also—for bold .though. his nature was, he felt undeniably nervous on the subject of presenting his bride to Lady Glen: phen. Thaeart stood in the portico until Captain Evelyn and:his young wife had disappeared, and then went directly to the blue drawing-room, where he knew his wife often spent hes moruing hours at this loyely season of the year. Lady Pienhas plone scarlet camel’s hair scarf lay on the sofa, a token that she had recently occupied the apartment; but she was not tliere now... One person only stood in the middle of the room, gnawing fiereely at his nails, with a face such as Cain might haye worn when first the instinct of murder. entered into his'soul. He Jooked up, with a sudden flash of surprise in his eyes, as the earl entered the apartment and stood facing him. “Youare welcome, my Lord Glenhampton,” he said, advanc- ing; and the earl, to his surprise, recognized Mr, Theodore Poyn- ings, the family solicitor. ' “Fam mach obliged to you, Mr. Poyninzs,” said the earl, cour- tebusly, and about to pass on; “but I was looking for Lady Gleu- hampton.”? > Mr. Poynings placed himself resolutely in the way. “My lord,’ he said, his voice quivering strangely, “will you grant me afew mibdutes’ audience first? Ihave that to impart to you which will brook no delay.’? Lord Glentiam pton*looked at the man in surprise. Had he taken leave of his senses? Or upom what other grounds could his singular persistency be accounted for? “Perhaps at some other time——” he commenced, haughtily; but Poynings broke in once more; “NO other time will do as well,” he said, with brusque inso- lence. . ‘‘I)warn you, my lord, once for all, that you had better listen to my story before the whole countryside is ringing with it! Lord Glenhampton stopped, calmly. io isit that you have to tell me, Poynings?”’ said he, uletly. ' “Do you remember the murder of Arthur Hunsworth, years’ ago? “You, of all others, have no need to ask me that question, Mr. Poynings,”’ answered the earl, ‘Whatever lesser events may escape my memory, I am not likely to forget that.” “Do vou wish to know who was his murderer ?? “T would have given my right hand to know, at the time he met with bis bloody death,” responded the earl, with emotion; “T would give it still.” “J ask no such price as that, Lord Glenhampton; I only ask your attention, Will you hearimy story out, or”—with a very perceptible sneer—“‘ure you s0 anxious to rejoin your family as to be able to spare me no time ?” The ear! sat down on the velvet sofa. “Goon, Mr. Poynings,” he said, with the cokl courtesy that never forsook him; “I give you my undivided attention.” “To tell my story as it should be told,’ began Mr. Poynings, “I must request your lordship to convey your mind backward, equally with umine, to the night of the twenty-lirst of Septem- r, 18—. “Will you not be seated, Mr. Poynings 7”? asked Lord Glen. ampton. “Thanks! I prefer to stand. The night of the twenty-first of September, 18—, Mr. Hunsworth came to our office, at about nine o’clock, apparently very much agitated. He sat down and wrote a note, which he requested me to take at once, with my own hands, to the Countess of Glenhampton. I obeyed. She was standing at the window, so that, without attracting: the atten- tion of any One else in the apartment, I could easily hand it te her unseen, standing, as J did, om the marble terrace without. She read the note, and crumpled it upin her fingers. I asked her it;there jvas any answer. ‘There isnone,’ she answered. As it happens, I am skilled at reading faces, and I saw.in hers ‘that the billet contained something of no ordinary nature. “Thiavihnere was\some sécret between my master and Lady Glenhampton I was quite certain, and as secrets are useful things to men of my profession, I determined to fathom the mat- ter to‘its very bottom. Almost immediately on my return Mr, Hunsworth went out, and I followed hin.” “You did not tell.all this on the occasion of. the coroner’s in- quest in this castle,’ interrupted Lord Gleshampton, ; Poynings smiled mockingly. “Tam quite aware of it, =e lord earl. It was not my policy at that. time todmpartall that knew. AsT was saying,” he add- ed, after a moment’s pause, “I followed him into the dell beside the deer park. He waited there some time, so did I, behind the gnarled trunk of the great beech tree,-which, if your lordship remembers, stands near the southern angle of the dell—but both ot our vigils were rewarded in time. The Countess or Glen- hampton, with her evening dress completely enveloped under a black cloak, whose hood also covered her head except in one place, where I could see the Glenhampton diamonds Hash out in the starlight, came over the dewy grass. moving quick and light, and with her face deadly pale. I was where I could hear their yoices distinctly; you can imagine how earnestly I listened for every accent, Aye, I see your lordship’s lip curl. Eavyes-drop- ping is not the action of an honorable man, I.graut you, but we who have mot the good fortune to be born in purple and fine linen must work our way up the ladder of life as best we may. And I was rewarded for not being over scrupulous by the tidings that IT heard. Hunsworth told the countess, your wife’’—Poyn- ings spoke slowly, giving emphasis to every word separately and distinctly as it passed his lips—“‘that he had that night dis- covered the existence of the twin daughters of the house of Glenhampton, supposed to have been dead for more than seven years—that at that moment they were in the ruined lodge, pass- ing as the grandchikiren of one Jason Garfield who, as I under- stood it, had. been liberally rewarded toe put them out of the way—a polite phrase, as Ltake it,” he added, sneeringly, ‘for murder. And hetold the countess that he regarded it as her bounden duty to divulge the monstrous conspiracy, of what he had become aware that night for the first time, tothe earl. My Lady Gienhampton denied nothing—she was wise enough to per- ceive that no falsehood or double-dealing with facts could avail her at that moment—but she tried to drag him also into the foul plot., She offered him reward, bribes—I can scarcely remember what—to continue to conceal the,story into which he had gained an insight through the yolantary confession of the old man, a confession aloft whose details I was not so fortunate as to hear. But Hunsworth tvasone of ‘those fools whom the world calls ‘men.of honor,’ and he.cefused. every. tempting prospect and golden bribe. “And then she shifted her ground and, begged fom time. She would herself tell her husband all; the childrem should He restored to their rights, and#the errors of the past be amply atoned for—oniy he must lether. choose her own time At all events, the ear! should Know all. the mext morning at farthest; and to this compromise Hunswerth reluctantly con- sented. Shethanked him with the utmost fervor tor his for- bearance—and they. parted. She turned aways he steod tor a moment lighting his cigar under the very boughs of. the tree. be- hind whieh { crouched—and in that instanta shadow crept be- tween me and the starlight—Lady Glenbampton’s shadow—and I saw the white, sheeny gleam of a blade in the air, I heard the bubbling ery of the murdered man, and saw him iall among the daisies and the long ferns, which closed above him as if to hide the corpse from sight. Inever beheld a thing more instauta- neously, done; he must have died ushe fell. And then she stooped aboye him aud seemed to be searching or feeling tor ne es ar ers