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Copyrighted, 1985, by Baum: AND ADAMS.

Entered at the Post Office at. New York. N. Y., as Second Class Mail Matter.

Oct. 6, 1885.

 

$2.50 PUBLISIIED WEEKLYBY BEADLE AND ADAMS '
  a Year. ’ Fiv’zerggr'iis.

No. 08 William Street. New York.

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‘.‘ SILLY room" ner'rennn rm: WATCHER.

AMMEMM

Or, I‘IIS LAWFUL WIFE.
BY RETWNWOOD.

 

CHAPTER I. '
HUSBAND AND WIFE.

IT was one of those )erfect October (
When the air one breathesI seems like a (lraiiili:
0 ambrosia, every breath that fans the cheel} a
Cafess.

n the vine-clad orch of a rett cotta e
OMée, overlooking Lake George, Sat Nyeria Gog;
son. he was gazing dreamin at the landscape

read before‘ her. It looked like a picture.

Carce a ripple stirred the placid bosom of the

 

 

“ MEN ms TREACHEROUS. AND so YOU WILL YET DISCOVER.”

lake, which lay burning and darkening like a
burnished shield in the yellow sunlight. The
forests were brilliantly tinted with scarlet and
gold, and a soft, purplish haze rested lovingly
upon the encircling hills. I -

Every day for six months the young girl had
beheld nearly the same scene, but it never
lost its subtle charm. .

A gentle sigh heaved her bosom. “ I wonder
if I shall be so happy anywhere else?” she mur-
mured, in a dreamy tone.

At this moment a step stirred the gravel, and
a young man came slowly along a path leading
from the lake. Neria sprung up to meet him. ’

“ I have been thinking What a delightful sum--
mer we have spent here, Lawrence,” she said.
“ I am so sorry it is over.”

The young man threw himself into a seat.
He was a handsome fellow, tall, heavy-limbeal,

c"
l

i
.1.
.2!
‘4

 

9 A MAN’S SIN.

 

a young man came slowly along a path leading
from the lake. Neria sprung up to meet him.

“1 have been thinking what a delightul sum-
mer we have spent here, Lawrence,’ she said.
“I am so sorry it is over.”

The young man threw himself into a seat.
He was a handsome fellow, tall, heavy-limbed,
with one of those brilliant dark faces women
find so attractive.

“ Does it pain you to think of going away?”
he asked.

“Oh, very much.”

He lookel at her eagerly, the troubled frown
that had wrinkled his brow a. moment before
vanishing quite away.

“I am glad you like the place, Neria,” said
he. “ It is healthy and retired—all that is
charming. There is nothing to hinder us from
making it our permanent home, if you feel so
disposed.”

She looked up quickly, the plan was so dif-
ferent from any be had ever made before.

“-Do you think it could be managed, Law-
rence?” .

“Easily. Mrs. Gross, our landlady, would be
delighted to have you remain; If you Wish, I
will settle the matter with her at once.” _

“ But would y :u like it?”

“I?” he echoed, with an embarrassed laugh.
“Oh yes. It would beadelightful retreat to
whic to hie from the cares and bustle of the
world. It would please me above all things.
We would see much less of each other than we
do now—that is the only drawbaca.”

Something in the words and tone struck a sud-
den chill to the young girl’s: heart.

“ You do not mean to say, Lawrence, that
you would go awe even for aday, and leave
me behind'l’ she fa tered.

“I’m afraid so darling. But don’t look so
broken-hearted. I shall be with you all th It; is
possible. You may expect to see me every
week. But. our holiday is over. I have been
thinking for some time of telling you so. I
have been idle too long already, and must go
back to my work.” ' '

“ Are we so very poor?”

“Poor enough,” he answered dropping his
eyes rather than meet her clear, honest gaze.

“No matter. That need not separate us. I
am young and strong; 1 could go with you and
help about our work, whatever it may be.”

‘ Impossi 1e!”

“Why? I would like it, and I am quick to
learn." ,

Then, still looking at him steadily, she
added'

“What is your business, Lawrence? You ‘

never told me.”

“You would not understand, darling. I did
not wish to trouble you with wearisome details.
Let us talk of something else.”

Neria sighed. These evasions perplexed and
troubled her. It almost seemed as though her
husband had something to conceal.

Lawrence himself broke the brief silence that
ensued, saying, in~a tone of affected careless-
ness: .

“You and I have been married for half a
year, but it is singular how little We know of
each other’s history. I do not remember eVer

having heard you speak of your relatives, or

early friends.”

N eria changed color.

“ I had reasons for being silent,” she said, in
l a low voice. “ The lines have not always fallen
to me in pleasant places. The names that
should have been sweetest to my lips were the

most difficult to utter. F0 ' 9 me. Lawrence.

E 011116,,0f these days you shall ear all there is to

2 te .

“Why not now?”

“Be patient a little longer,” she pleaded.

Lawrence gazed at her uneasily. It was very
strange what had so turned her against her
Own kin she could not endure even to mention
them. ‘

“ What does it matter, after all?” he said to
himself, half angrily. “ If there has been any
scandal or crime, I would rather never be told.”

Gently drawing her to him, he added aloud:

“Let me tell you Why I referred to your
, friends and early life. You will be lonely with
f me away. The thought suggested itself that
’ you might be happier surrounded by those you

had known and prized in childhood—~”

; “No,” she passionately interrupted. “ You

:’ are the only person I love in all the wide earth.

i Do not talk of a se aration; I could not bear it.

, Wherever you go willfollow. Whatever bur-

, dens fall upon your shoulders I will help you

L bear. No one could take our place, or console

3 me for your absence. h. my love, do not

r break my heart by leaving me behind when you

| go away!”

i The young man looked both pleased and an-

 noyed. It was something to have 'won a love

, like this, however troublesome it might eventu-
ally prove.

“ Foolish child,” he Whispered, gently caress-
ing her. “ I did not dream you would take the

; matter so to heart. But, take courage; I will

? neverleave you.”

3 At the moment he meant it. Neria’s distress

i and clinging affection had touched his callous

’ heart.

I “ i. will be true to her, whatever may come of

, it,” he thought, yielding to the generous impulse
that came over him.

1 Just then Mrs. Gross, who was gathering
herbs in the little kitchen garden not far away,
came in sight of the young couple sitting on

; the porch. A frown wrinkled the woman’s

‘ brow._ Her own life had been soured by trouble

and disappomtment, and it made her envious to

Witness the hafpiness of others.

“Billing an cooing as usual,” she muttered.
“I wonder how much longer it will last?”

_She stood up, peering curiously through the
Vines. A pretty pink flush had kindled in
Neria’s cheek, and her head rested confldingly
against her husband’s shoulder.

“Silly fool i” muttered the watcher. “Men
are all base and treacherous at heart, and so
you will yet discover.”

Mrs. Gross had always felt lurking doubts of
Lawrence Gordon’s sincerity. Six months be-
fore he had brought Neria to her cottage, a
bride. They had idled the whole summer away
in this self—imposed seclusion. Many points on
the lake were gay with summer visitors, but the
young couple never received visitors, or left the
immediate neighborhood.

 

.. 1%“me —- n .

I

 

A MAN’S SIN. ‘3.

 

At this moment a boy came up the path with '

a letter. Lawrence snatched it eagerly, and
rising from his seat, advanced a little nearer
the clum of bushes behind which Mrs. Gross
stood, be ore breaking the seal.

There were two envelopes, the inner sealed

and post-marked like the other. Mrs. Gross

caught a momentary glim se of the name On
the envelope that had been inclosed, and almost
cried aloud. She felt absolutely certain it was
not Lawrence Gordon!

What did it mean! While she stood motion-
less, Lawrence broke the second sea]. A mut-
tered imprecation fell from his lips. He read
the letter twice over, then tearing it across,
thrust the fragments into hi'vpocket, and strode

. away. '

The woman looked after him, her thin lips
tightly compressed. It was easy to see that he
had been greatly disturbed.

“ I would give my right hand to know what’s
in that letter!” she muttered.

 

CHAPTER II.
GONE!

NERIA’S slumbers were broken and disturbed
that night. An indefinable foreboding that
could not be shaken off, sleeping or waking,
had taken possession of her mind. Once she
awakened with the dreary sense of being left
alone, forsaken.

“ Lawrence. where are you?” she cried, aloud.

The touch of his lips upon her cheek answered
her. Clinging to his neck, she burst into hys-
terical tears.

“I have had such a wretched dream! I
thought you had gone away and left me.”

“Silly child,” he said, half-impatiently.
“You must have been worrying yourself over
the conversation we held this afternoon.”

“Yes, I could not help it, Lawrence. I am
nervous and hysterical to—night. The feeling is
strong upon me that something dreadful is
about to occur.”

“Nonsense. You need a soothing draught to
quiet your nerves. I am going for one.”

He was absent some time. Neria drank
eagerly the mixture that had been prepared.

“Lawrence, how good you are,” she mur-
mured, lifting her eyes lovingly to his face.
“ It would be ungrateful to fear any wrong at
your hands.”

He turned hastily away, going to the open

window; Was it fancyi—or did his face really .

look pallid and haggard in the uncertain light.

Neria looked after him anxiously, but before
she could make up her mind on this pomt a
strange drowsiness stole ever her, benumbing
every faculty, and she fell fast asleep.

The October sunshine was streaming in at the ‘

window in a flood of gold, and a. solitary bird,
perched on the balcony without, was singing
his matin song when she awoke.

The hour was late.
Neria made a hasty toilet, and hurried below.
' The little porch where Lawrence smoked his

morning cigar was vacant, and she ran through '

the silent hall, calling his name.

Finding herSelf alone, i

“ Where is Mr. Gordon?” Neria asked. fl

The woman looked up quickly.
1 “Hé has not been down this morning, un-
ess—” .

“Unless what?” cried Neria, alarmed by her
hesitation. “Speak out.”

“ I found the front door standing open when
I came down-stairs, and Mr. Gordon’s hat and
coat were gone from therack.”

 

“He has gone for an early walk,” the young -

girl said, but flew back to her chamber, not
kncfiiwing why she went, or what she expected
to nd.. -~
A glance told her that many of his little be-
longings were missing from the room. 0n the
dressing—case, with a newspaper thrown care-
lessly over it, lay a small packet addressed to
herself. She be quite overlooked it before go-
ingibelow.

eria’s heart beat almost to suffocation as
she tore the wrappings asunder. A letter fell
out, and a roll of bank-notes. Everything
swam before the girl’s eyes for a moment, and
zhe sat down, her forehead covered with heavy

rops.

“ Read the letter,” said a husky voice at her _

elbow. “That will tell you whether the wretch

has gone away for good.”

, It was Mrs. Gross who spoke. She had fol-

lowed the girl up-stairs, and divined all at a.

, glance. '

1thQuite mechanically Neria obeyed. ,It ran
us:

i “I have received an imperative summons that
; calls me from your side for a time. After our con-

‘E versation of yesterday, it seemed wiser to go with—

; out any words of adieu. Remain with Mrs. Gross
~f until you hear from me again. You will be liberally
5 provide-ll for. While I live you shall never want for
‘ money, or a friend. LAWRENCE."

I The letter fell to the floor. Neria sat fora
while with her hands clasped over her taco, not
knowing or caring that Mrs. Gross had picked

. up the crumpled sheet, and was eagerly devour-

‘ ing every word,

; The harsh, rasping voice of Mrs. Gross broke

I in upon her reflections:

5 “And so the villain has deserted you,madami

E I half expected he would; but the cnsxs has

; come sooner than I looked for it.” . .

i The girl sat motionless, one hand clinched

, tightly over her heart. SIOWIy the meanm of

' Mrs. Gross‘s words was dawmng upon er

senses. .

“ It’s a terrible plight to be in,” the hard, re-
lentless voice went on, “but you might as well

_ make the best of it. I am going to speak very
plainly to you. It is not your fault, poor thing,
that you have been cruelly deceived. You have

1 lived under my roof for six months as Law-

rence Gordon’s wife. It looks now as though

you had no claim to that title, or he would
scarcely have gOne away, and left you like this.

t_”
EA shrill cry broke from the lips of the wretch-

. ed girl. .
i ‘ Hush oh, hush!” ,_

“You had better let me speak, miss. Who
else is to help and counsel you? I was about to

Mrs. Gross was in the dining-room giVing 3 say that I shall not drive you from the house,

few last touches to the breakfast-table.

as almost anybody else would do under the oil‘-

V

,1.

,l

 

A MAN’S SIN.

 

cumstances. Icannot help feeling some com-
passion for one so wantonly betrayed. For the
present you can remain as though nothing had
appened, and we will decide together what
course had better be pursued in the future.”

The forsaken one sprun up wildly, clasping
both hands to her forehea .

“ Leave me.” she cried. “ For pity’s sake go
away! Give me time to think my trouble over.
I feel like a. madwoman.”

She looked it. with her hollow cheeks and
burning eyes. Mrs. Gross’s heart was not all
adamant; after hesitating a moment she silent-
ly left the room.

Neria tried to think calmly and connectedly.
In vain. Her brain burned, her mind wandered
in a wild chaos. She could not realize that
Lawrence had reall gone and left her.

“ It cannot be,” s e moaned. “ He loved me
truly, be was my lawful husband, no matter
what Mrs. Gross may say. Something very
strange has happened to call him away, but he
has not willfully deserted me.” ‘

Rousing herself at last, she slowly and pain—
fully made her way down-stairs to the tidy
kitchen where Mrs. GI‘07S was going about the
morning’s work as though nothing unusual had
occurred.

“ There has been some mistake,” she pan ted.
“I am suffering terribly. Who knows but
some direful misfortune has befallcn my hus-
band, and he wrote that letter simply to blind
and mislead me? I am going to Glentown.

, There may be news of him at the hotel where
he sometimes stops. Oh. Mrs. Gross, I am so
weak—helfime to get there, and—and—”

She sun into a chair with such a deathly
loo}:i that the woman was thoroughly fright-
ene .

“My poor child, try to bear up,” she cried.
“It’s an absurd idea you’ve taken into your
head, but I’ll do what I can. I’ll call Rob, and
he shall drive you over at our-e.”

“Rob” was the hired man. A few minutes
later Neria found herself en route for the vil-
lag3e, seated by his side.

11 reaching the hotel, she sent immediately
for the landlord. He came smilingly to me t
her, the start of surprise he gave being an in-
voluntary tribute to her youth and beautv.

“I am here to inquire for my husband,” she
said, keeping her voice steady by a pmverl‘ul
effort. “Perhaps you can tell me something."

“Pardon me; I have not the honor of know-
ing madam—”

“ I am Mrs. Lawrence Gordon.”

He bowed low. “Ah, indeed! Yes, your
husband was here quite early in the morning,
but—” '

“Where is he now?” Neria demanded, just
above her breath.

“ Gone. He left for Albany some three hours
since.”

The poor soul shrunk back, as though he had
struck her. The words cunfirmcd her worst
fears. Pride came to her rescue, however.

suffered.

“ I—I—wishedto see Mr. Gordon again before .

he went,” she faltered, feeling that some excuse
for her presence there was necessary.

l

. Glentown.

' of a planter at the time.

 

Draw‘ng her vail over her facs, she passed
out. The shudder that ran through her frame
escaped the man’s notice. Little did he dream
what a broken and bleeding heart his beautiful

" guest carried from his presence.

 

CHAPTER III.
THE AGONY OF SUSPENSE.

No word of explanation was necessary to
inform Mrs. Gross of the result of the mission to
She came out, the moment the car-
riage drew up before the door, and with some
show of kindness helped the girl into the house,
giving her a seat by the sunniest window. '

“ Don’t take it so to heart,” said she. “ Scores
of innocent young girls have been deluded by a
false marriage, and left much worse 03 than
yourself. Mr. Gordon—if that is his name—has
promised to provide liberally for you~”

A cry of horror, anguish and indignation
broke from Neria’s lips.

“What do you mean? How dare you doubt
the validity of my marriage with Lawrence
Gordon?" .

“ I judge from What I know, and have seen,”
came the cool response. “ A man does not leave
his lawful wife in the free and easy fashion Mr.
Gordon has taken to rid himself of you.”

“We are bound’ to each other by every tie,
human and divine,” declared Neria, trembling
with excitement.

“1 hope you will be able to prove it, my
dear.” -

" it is easily done. We were married in New
Orleans, after an acquaintance of only six
weeks. I wasliving as governess in the family
My husband brought
me here immediately. We have remained with
you evar sinca Oh, there can be no doubt but
it was a bond-jich marriage. I still have the
certificate. I lilsisted upon keeping it myself,
and Lawrence did not care.”

S l6 hastily detached from her neck a slender
chain of gold from which depended a smell
locket, and touched a secret sprnig. W by was
it that she fell back, the next instant, her face
pale as death could have made it?

The receptacle was emptyl

The discover shocked even Mrs. Gross. If
Lawrence Gor on had stolen the certificate, the
fact proved that he had dealt with this hapless
girl with a studied treachery of which she had
deemed him incapable.

Mrs. Gross stood looking compassionately at
the stricken creature a moment, then drew
nearer as though she had taken a sudden reso-
lution.

“ There‘s something you ought to know, miss:
it would be no kindness to keep it from you
now. and may help to throw some light on Mr.
Gordon’s shameful conduct. After you were
gone, this morning, I went into the garden to

l gather vegetables for dinner, and found the

It ,
would not answer to lot the man see what she ‘

l h

fragments of a letter lodged in the grass.
have read it, and advise you to do the same.”
Neria mechanically took the slip of paper the
woman offered. It had been torn straight'
across, leaving a portion out of the middle of
the letter, which was without beginning or end.
This is what was said, written in a woman’s ‘
and: r

 

 

 

« v ( FWfiin—w—rwr  T7 -

AMAN’SSIN. ‘ ‘ .' -"5

“Your friends are inquiring for on every day, V

and even I do not know where to ad ress a line save
through your favorite club. PositiVely, this state
of aflfairs shall not continue. Unless you soon pre-
sent yourself in proper person, I shall set out by
myse f to find you and learn the cause of your mys-
terious disappearance.

“It is high time, too, that you had established
matters on a surer footing with Mrs. Fannce’s beau-

tiful prog/Igée, She loves you, and is secretly grieV-“

ing over your continued absence. She will inherit
the whole of the old lad ’s immense wealth. It
would be folly to suifer sue a prize to slip through
your fingers. We have nearly reached the end. of
our tether, and something must be done quickly un-
less you wish to see absolute ruin stare you in the
face. Since it is in the books that you must marry
an heiress or be reduced to beggary, it might better
» a thousand times be this one than another.”
What followed had been torn away. Neria
‘ crushed the fragment in her hand. There could
be no doubt but this letter had been written to
her husband. He had received it the night be—
fore, and it was this that had taken him away!

Mrs. Gross, meanwhile, was attentiVely scan-
ning the young girl’s face. ;

“ I’m going to give my version of this affair,”
she said grimly. “You can take it for what it
is worth. Mr. Gordon is a man of the world,
and such persons never give a second thought to
wrecked lives or broken hearts. He has had
his holiday, and you’ve seen the last of him.
You might as well be reconciled to give him up.
He has gone back to hisaristocratic friends, and
will doubtless marry the heiress who has been
selected for him.”

Mrs. Gross did not intend to be cruel; she only
wished to prepare the girl for the inevitable.
Great was her surprise and consternation, there—
fore, to see her start up suddenly with a long,
shuddering cry, and tall insensible.

All that day and night Neria lay like one
dead. She did not moan or weep—only a faint
fluttering breath showed that she lived.

By the time morning dawned, she had gath-
ered a little strength, however. When Mrs.
Gross took up her breakfast at a late hour, she
found the poor soul moving about the room
dressed in traveling attire.

“ Mercy on me! What now?” exclaimed the
astonished woman.

“ I am going tofind my husband,” Neria an-
swered in a trembling voice. " Do not seek to
dissuade me. I must go. The journey means
life or death to me now.”

“ Poor child! What can you expect to ac-
complish?”

“I can see Lawrence, and learn his intentions
from his own lips. Nothing less‘ would suti-«i’u
me.” Her voice broke, almost dying away for
a moment. “ You are a woman, Mrs. Gross,
and can divine what I suffer. Suspense and um
certainty are driving me mad. 1 can not hear
them much longer! For God’s sake let me go!”

The wild anguish of look and tone Mrs. Gross
never forgot.

“Of course you must go, if you feel like

that,” she said. “ But it will be a fool’s errand.
The world is Widen—you may never succeed in
meeting with Mr. Gordon again.”

“I shall go direct to Albany. I know the
name of the hotel where Lawrence stops when

\

 

there. If he has gone on, there will at‘least be
information of him.”

Remonsirance would have been useless, and

Mrs. Gross deemed it the better policy to speed
the deserted wife on her WEST.

It was late in the afternoon when Neria
reached the city. Taking a. cab at the railway
station, she drove at once to the hotel where
she hoped to find her husband. Her heart beat
high, she trembled with excitement as she as-
cended the steps. 

Some one was crossing the hall at that very
moment. She recognized that firm, manly step,
and forgetful of time and place, rushed forv‘vard
With a fr int, heart-thrilling scream.”

"Lawrence! Oh, my husband!”

The startled wretch saw and heard. He fell
back a step, a muttered imprecation falling
from his lips. ,

“You, Neria! Here!”

 

CHAPTER IV.
THE FAI’IHLESS HUSBAND.

HAD a phantom from the other world sudv
denly risen to confront Lawrence Gordon, he
would not have been more astonished than at
the unexpected appearance of the woman he
had so basely deserted.

The necessity for action recalled almost in-
stantly his wanderin wits. Seizing' the girl
rough y by the arm, is drew her into one of
the small rcce‘ptiozrrooms, closing and locking
the door.

“Now tell me the meaning of this i” he said
releasing her. “ Why have you followed me?”

Again she sunk at his feet, her heart growing
cold. like a lump of ice in her bosom. ,

“Don’t speak to me so! Don’t, Lawrence!”
she said, with a voice like one that is smother-
mg.

I Her haggard face and evident distress shamed
him into an exhibition of something like de-
cencv.

“Why did you dog my steps?” be repeated,
more kindly. " What led you to come here?”

“I could not live without you.”

“Nonsense. I thought you understood it
was impracticable for us always to be together.
You found the note I left?” ’

“ Yes,” she answered.

“That was explanation enough of my sudden
departure. You should have been satisfied,
and remained quietly with Mrs. Gross.”

Neria’s heart was sinking lower and lower.
She could not disguise from herself the fact-
that her appearance had annoyed and fright-
ened him. ’Alread y she detected an indefinable
change in his manner. The gentle courtesy,
the airy politeness were gone .foreVer. ‘

Clasping her arms about him, she burst into
agonizing sobs. _

“Lawrence, husband! my heart is almost
broken. How could you leave me in that
strange, cruel fashion?’

“I have a horror of scenes,” stammered the
wretol‘i. “I knew you would not consent to a.
separation, however brief. The way I took
SUt‘llleil the easiest one out of the difficulty.”

“It filled my mind with terrible apprehen-

‘

 

 

 

 

 

6 A MAN’S SIN.

 

sions. I thought—I feared—you might intend
casting me off forevsr.”

He looked at her curiously, a dark red surg-
ing OVer his face.

‘It was a foolish notion; I realize it now,”
she went on, tremulously. “You could not do
anything so heartless and cruel. I am amazed
at myself for having doubted you. Forgive
me, Lawrence! I had so much at stake and-—
circumstances were a ainst you. Oh, I have
been very wretched. t would have bl-en mad-
ness to remain behind. I wished to hear from
your own lips that you love me as truly an
ever.

The pallor of her upturned face—the pathetic
leadingHin her lovely eyes—touched the man’s
eart. e suddenly took her in his arms.

“Of course I love you, little one,” he mur-

mured. “ How could you doubt it?”

“It is not true, then, what Mrs. Gross said,

I am not really your wife?”

“Did Mrs. Gross say that?”

“Yes, Lawrence. She is naturally sus-

picious. She claimed you had deceived and

forsaken me, and were not what you pretended. :

I might have given no attention to what she
said, but a fragment torn from a letter that was
found seemed to confirm everything.”

 

and down the room, as though buried in per-
plexed thought.

“ It is scarcely worth while to return to your
old quarters,” he said at length. “Mrs. Gross
might not prove a pleasant companion after
what has occurred. had better find a. nice,
quiet place near by, where you can remain.”

“I should not mind remaining here at the
hotel, it” it is only for a day or two.”

“ The place is too public,” he answered,
hastily.

“ I might keep my room, for that matter. I
should not feel like going out with you away.”

“ You Would like better to live more re-
tired.”

He quitted the room, presently, to see what
arrangements could be made. Neria was quite
startled to observe that he looked the door, and
took away the key.

Two hours were on; she had grown very
anxious and uneasy when at last he returned.

“ I have found just the place.” he said, gayly,
as he entered; "apretty little cottage in the
suburbs that you can have all to yourself.”

“But was it worth while to hire it for so
short a time?” Neria ob'ected.

“Of course. I won d do anything in the

‘ world to insure your happiness, my love.”

The young man’s look of annoyance changed 1

to one of alarm.

“ A letter?” he exclaimed.
What do you mean? What letter?”

Neria took the crumpled morsel of paper from
her pocket and gave it to him.

“I kept it because I hoped for this oppor-
tunitv to give it to you, and ask an explana-
tion,” she said.

Lawrence turned to the open window. After
reading the few lines that had caused Neria so

“Where is it?;

As he bent to kiss her, the poor, deluded crea-
ture c;ung to him with passionate force.
“I believe you do love me, Lawrence,” she

‘ murmured.

In a few moments they were ready to set out.
Lawrence seemed anxious and restless, and
glancing at her curiously, before leaving the
room. said with a forced laugh:

“VVuat a woebegone expression! It would

f never do for strangers to see you like that.‘

great dietress, he rolled the torn sheet into a 3

ball and threw it into the street.

“I am surprised that you permitted such a
trifle to trouble you,” he said. not without some
show of embarrassment. “The letter is from
my mother, who has very ambitious views for
me. Of course I am not in sympathy with her
designs. It would not have been kind to refuse
to o to her, hOWever. and 1am now on the way.”

he explanation seemed reasonable enough,
only Neria wondered he had not volunteered
it before. How much misery she might have
been spared! '

“ I am glad that is all,” she said, eagerly.
“We can go together. I must meet your
mother some time—it might as Well be now as
later.”

But Lawrence frmvned and drew hack.

“ You do not understand, dear. _ I
is a very proud woman. Some preparation 15
necessary before I can present you as my Wife.
Her heart is set upon seeing me wedded to an—
other. The disappointment might prove a seri-
ous blow if it fell too suddenly. No, I must go
on in advance, and prepare the way for your
coming.”

“ You will not be long?”

“Only a few days.”

“What is to become of me while you are
away i” she inquired, after a pause. .

Before replying he walked several times up

My mother ‘

: \Vbere’s your veil!”

She produ~ed it from her pocket, and he tied
it securely over her face. ,

' “ That’s better,” he said, with an air of satis‘
faction, and led her down to the carriage that
waite'l in the street.

It was a. long distance to their destination,
and Lawrence, who seemed unfamiliar with the
way, alighted more than once to make in—
quiries. J 11st at sunset they drew up before a.
tiny cottage of three or four rooms, quite be-
yond the city limits.

Lawrence had the key in his pocket. It was
a furnished house, the rooms large and airy.
Neria saw at a glance that with a cheerful fire
burning in the grate her new home could be
made to wear a very cosey and pleasant ap-
pearance. '

“ I have engaged a competent woman to take!
charge of the house, and expect her every mo
ment,” Lawrence explained, drawing forward
an easy-chair. “ You will be very comfortable
here.”

Neria leaned toward him, a chill feeling of
foreboding seizing her heart.

“Oh, Lawrence! One would think you ex—
pected me to remain on for an indefinite period."

“Nonsense,” he answered. “I thought you
would at least be grateful for the trouble I have
taken to leave on pleasantly situated.”

“So I am. at you know full well that no
place would be pleasant to me long unless you
were there.” .

 

A MAN’S SIN. \ .  ‘7

 

“ I shall return almost before you have missed
me.” '

Taking his hand she laid it caressingly against
her cheek.

“You will come back, Lawrence?” she said.
“ 1 have your promise?”

“Of course. I hope you are not again giv-
ing way to silly misgivings?”

“ At the earliest possible moment?” she per-
sisted.

“ as; I shall count the hours of our separa—
tion quite as impatiently as you do.”

Neria tried to feel satisfied With this assur—
ance, but somehow the tone sounded hollow, the
words insincere.

Shortly afterward the woman who had been
engaged as housekeeper arrived. She was tall,
lank, and rather hard-looking, and did not im-
press Neria at all favorably. .

“I leave my wife in your care, Mrs. Drury.”
LawrenCe said to her, ‘ and shall hold you re-
sponsible for the trust. See that she wants for
nothin '

Leavmg a well-filled purse on the table, and
tenderly embracing Neria, who felt sick and

faint at the thought of the coming separation, ‘

be whispered a few last words of encourage-
ment. and left the house.

 

CHAPTER V.
HOPING- AGAINST HOPE.

NEARLY two weeks passed, but no line or
message “from the recreant husband. Neria
counted the lagging hours, and from morning
till night sat motionless at one of the windows
overlooking the street, watching, waiting,
straining her eyes in the distance that she might
catch the earliest possible glimpse of his be-
loved figure.

“I see now why he broueht me to this out—
of-the—way place,” she thought, at last giv—
ing way to despair. “He intended it for my
permanent home. I have nothing more to hope
or expect.
nothipflg.”

If rs. Drury knew aught of the missing
man, she kept such knowledge to herself.

Neria found ample time to reflect upon her
situation, during these days of enforced solitude.
She could not fail to realize that a bitter wrong
had been done. Lawrence had deceived her in
respect to his social position, and whyhad he
secretly taken away her marriage certificate
unless he meditated other crimes as well?

One wet, windy night early in November she
left her usual position at the window just as
evening closed in, and threw herself on the
couch. She felt feverish and sick. There was
no longer any hope of seeing Lawrence that
ni ht, she thought.

he was mistaken. A discreet rap sounded
on the door, presently, and Mrs. Drury entered,

“I have pleasant news,” the woman said.
“ Mr. Gordon has arrived.” . .

Neria sprung up, all her lassitude gone in a.
moment.

“ Where is he?” she panted.

“In the sitting-rOOm—waiting to receive
you.”

Her limbs trembled as she made her way to

All his specious promises meant“

the door. Her husband stood just within the
room.

“So you have come at last?” she said, with-
out going up to him.

“Yes, Neria. Did you think I hadbrokeu
my promise, and intended to remain away ?” he
asked, with a forced laugh. "

“ I was at a loss what to conclude.”

“Well, since I have taken‘the trouble to

come in this storm, you might at least give me V

a leasant welcome.” ..

is arms Were held out in the old caressing
way, and N eria found» it impossible to keep up
the mile she had begun. What, after all, was
the use of betraying wounded pride or resent—
ment?

“Lawrence. why did you not come before?”
she asked, resting her head upon his breast.

‘f I found my mother quite ill. I am her ‘only
child. It was impossible to leave her sooner.”

:‘ Is that what kept yvu? Why, I have been
$11;qu i‘ng hard and bitter thoughts of you all the
\‘l/ l 0.

He kissed away the penitent tears that filled
her eves.

“ Never mind, love. You will understand me
better, by and by.”

“ I hope so. There must be no more doubts
and fears. Of Course all is settled now—you
will take me away when you go?”

“ Not yet. You must be patient,” he an-
swered, with some embarrassment.

I “ Must there be more delay?” she demanded,
; in a vome of pain.
I “Yes. . My mother is not stron
g bear excitement. I could not wel enter into
 any explanation. There will be time enough
i for that when she recovers.”

Neria could not keep back the tears of disap-
i pomtment that rose to her eyes.

“How long will you be able to remain, now
’ that youarc here .3" she abruptly asked.

“ This 13 only a living visit. I must return to
New York at once.”

I “So soon? Lawrence, think of the long, long
1 days I have spent here alone.”
g “It cannot be helped, dear. My mother’s sus-
g picions would certainly be awakened were I to
‘ absent myself for a longer period.”
l “At least take me with you when you 0,”
,‘r she implored. “ I could be ready in avery ew
{ moments. I promise not to be a burden to you
1 in any way. Let me go.”

“ Impossiblel”

Neria felt chilled and hurt. She could not

help thinking how eager she would have been,

enough to

with their positions reversed, to make the ex— -

pcriment. ' .

“Tell me the truth, Lawrence,” she cried,
clinging to him with a loud burst of sobs. “ It
would be no kindness to lzeep it from me after
a l I have suffered. My heart misgives me. ls
the lnve you once professed for me growing cold
already? I wish to know. Do you love me no
longer?”

“ What a foolish question!” he exclaimed,

1 trying to smile.

l “ I am in earnest. Do not mock me, please.
Once we were so happy together. Ah, those

‘ bright, blissful dmrsl I fancied they would
last toreVer. But they are gone with the bean-

 

. i‘.:er"‘tx;’9)n-(~ 

 

8

A MAN’S SIN.

 

tiful summer that gave them birth. You ap-
near so strange, so cold, so unlike yourself,

Lawrence. First you left me secretly, without 5

a word of farewell, or any clew to your des-
tination. For weary days together I have been
without any tidings of ou. Even when you
do reappear, it is only or a few fleeting mo-
merits. What am I to conclude? That you
wish to be rid of me, and are trying to soften
the fatal blow? Ah, it is terrible! For God's
sake, do not keep me in suspense. I would
rather be told the worst at once.”

'A moment he hesitated; but, bad as he was, i

he had not the courage to declare the truth.

Dravvinor her to his heart, and covering her
face withlrisses, he answered with an air of ap—
parent sincerity: '

“How can you say such dreadful things,
Neriai Love you? Of course I do. Are you
not dearer to me than my own life? Perhaps I
have not always manifested that affection suf-
ficiently, but it is a living, burning flame in my
heart. I could not live without you. Try to
keep up your courage a little longer, darling,
and this trial will be over. Only be patient
and forbearing. If you understood all, you
would know it was impossible for me to have
acted difl’erentl from what I did.”

She believed im. It is so easy for one who
loves devotedly to be deceived.

The moments wore on, and the time came 7

very quickly for Lawrence to go. Neria tried
to be calm, and keep back her sobs. for she
knew how her husband disliked a scene.

“Ishall count the hours until you come
again,” she said at parting.

“ Rest assured I shall not remain away a day
longer than isxiecessary,” he replied.

After he had gone, all the old doubts and
forebodiugs returned. Neria tried to shake
them off, but in vain. In spite of determined
efforts to keep up her spirits, she became more
unhappy than ever.

“Heaven alone knows when I shall see him
again,” she said to herself. “Why did I not

ask for my marriage certificate? It would be a f

great comfort to have it in m ossession ’9”

She had forgotten to spea ' of it while her
husband was present, however, and could now
Oh] wait patiently until he came again.

his did not happen until another week had .
gone by. It was evening, as before when he i
Neria noticed the fact '

made his appearance.
with a pang of dismay. Did he fear to be seen
up 'roaching the Cottage by da ? .

l, his time he appeared more urried and ill at
ease than before. The first greetings had
scarcely been interchanged before the young
wife spoke of the certificate.

“ Why did you' take it away?” she said. “It
is all I have to prove to the world that I am
your true and lawful Wife.”

“ You shall have it again,” he answered,
turning aside his face to hide his confusion.
“ I intended to examine the paper, and return
it at once; but neglected to do so.”

“ Where is it now?”

“ Among mv belongings at my mother’s house
in New York.”

“ When can I expect to receive it?”

i ‘ “At my next visit. But why are you so

‘ anxious for that bit of paper, Neria?”
t_ A flush came into her pale cheeks at the ques—
Ion.

“It is anything but a ‘ bit of paper ’ to me,”
she answered. ‘ It means life, honor, happi-
ness and good name.”

" Of course you must have it if on feel like
that,” he said, rather irritably. “ ut its pos—
session can neither make or undo anything.’

When the evening was well advanced he
arose to depart.

, “ Good-by,” he said, abruptly, taking her
hand in his own. “ I must be on my way.”
All Neria’s fortitude gave way at the t ought
‘ of parting with him again like this. Clinging
1 to him with bitter sobs and tears, she cried:
“ How can I let you go? Lawrence, how
] can I?”

He freed himself roughly from her embrace.

“ Let us have no foolishness, Neria. You
know as well as I do that this must be. Why
not take a common-sense view of the sRuation,
and keep your self—control?" ,

She felt hurt and wounded as mver before.
Sinking down on a chair she saw him depart
without another word.

CHAPTER VI.
THE BLOW FALLS.

DURING the two or three weeks of her sojourn
at the cottage, Neria had never once passed be.
vond the narrow confines of the grounds. Mrs.

rury executed the few commissions she had
outside, and there was nothing to call her into
the busy thoroughfares of the city.

One morning, several days subsequent to
Lawrence’s last visit, feeling unusually restless
and nervous, she dressed herself 1n walking
costume, and repared to go out. Mrs. Drury
saw her cross be hall, and looking rather flur-
ried, followed her to the door, even venturing
to lay a detaining hand upon her arm. .

“ I—I hope madam has no intention of gomg
far i” stammered the woman. _

Struck b the woman’s persistence, Neria
looked stea ily in her face an instant.

“Is there any reason why I may not go out?
Has Mr. Gordon instructed you never to lose
sight of me?” . .

‘Not that,” came the hesxtatmg reply. ‘ ‘But—”

“ What did he say 4”

“He would prefer that you did not go out
unattended while he is awav.”

Neria’s heart throbbed a little faster. What
was the significance of instructions like these
coming from her husband?

“There is no danger,” she said, lightly, ga-
thering up her shawl._ “ I shall not be long
away.’

Neria passed on, feeling curious and uncer-
tain. Why should she not go out freelly, at
that hour of the morning, if so disposed? here
was not the least impropriety in doing so. .

Deeply absorbed in these self-communings,
she took no note of time, but awakened sud'
denly out of a reverie to find herself in one of
the crowded squares, along distance from home,
in the midst of the changeful stream of hu-
manity flowing by.

i Presently her attention was drawn to a hand-.

A MAN’S SIN. ‘ 9

\_

some private carriage standing before one of
the fashionable shops. As she gazed a lady,
closely veiled. but elegantly dressed, descended
to the walk. Neria felther heart thrill strangely,
for there was something strikingly familiar in
the lady’s air and bearing.

The next instant a gentleman advanced, took
the lady’s arm, and lifting her into the carriage
with an unmistakable air of proprietorship,
seated himself beside her.

Neria stood like a statue. Her heart gave one
great, tumultuous throb, as though about to
burst from its confines, then lay still and pulse-
less in her breast.

That man was her recreant husband, Law-
rence Gordon! '

The carriage rolled away before she could
‘ either speak or stir. Its occupants had not ob-
served her, and knew nothing of the wild, woe-
ful gaze that followed them as long as they re-
mained in sight.

Something in the, little scene told its own
story. Neria did not scream or faint, but put-
ting both hands to her forehead in a weary ges—
ture, leaned trembling against the iron railing
near which she had paused.

A brief interval elapsed , then she heard a kind
voice say close beside her:

“ Hallo. miss! You must be ill. Let me lead
you out of this crowd.”

She shook her head. -“ I shall be better soon.”

“ Don’t be too sure of that. Wait a moment.
I will call a carriage, and you can go wherever
you please.”

A ittle later she found herself resting on the
soft cushions. She had just strength enough
left to tell the driver where to go, then fell back
in a. state of semi-unconsciousness.

It gave Mrs. Drury quite a start to see her
young mistress brought home in this condition.

The woman got her into the house. drew an
easy-chair up to the grate, brought cushions and
hassocks and warm, stimulating drinks domg
all that was possible to revive the heart-broken
wife. Nevertheless she lay like one dead, with
her eyes shut, and scarce a flutter stirring her
cold bosom. ' Mrs. Drury dared not question
her; she could only stupidly wonder what had
occurred. . .

As night fell, Neria revived a little. A faint
color came into her cheeks, she grew restless
and feverish, and constantly watched the door.

“He will come to—night,”she said to herself.
“ I shall see him again.” .

About nine o’clock there came a step outside,
and the bell rung. Neria waited quite calmly g
for Mrs. Drury to let her husband in. She was ‘
astonished at ier own composure. She did not -
evan look up as he came swiftly to her side. ]

“Is it cu?” she said, declining by a gesture
his outstretched band. “Sit down; I was ex-
pecting you.” I

. Lawrence stared. Was this really his loving
little Neria who had reCeived. him .so coldly.

. “I am not Very strong,” Neria said, after a
Pause. “The least excitement upsets me. Will
you be good enough to tell me at once your ob-
.lect in coming here to—night’l” '

“ To see you, of course, my dear.” Looking
at her closely now, he noticed her changed ap- I
Dearance for the first time. “ In Heaven shame .

 

’ tle.

what is the matter, Neria? , Have you been se-
riously ill’!”

She made an impatient gesture.

“It is of no consequence. We will speak of
other things, if you please. I am afraid we
have not thoroughly understood each other in
the st. It is time that we did.”

“ hat do you mean?” he demanded. “ You
said when I entered that you had been expect
ing me. How is that ssible, since I sent no
word of my coming? . our language is utterly
incomprehensible.’

Neria laid one hand on her throat as though
she felt a suffocating sensation.

“ Permit me to explain. This is not the first
time today I have seen, you.”

“ Not the first time?”

“No. Earlier in the day you were driving
with a lady—an intimate friend, I conclude.”

She had expected to see him overwhelmed
with confusion, but was scarcely pre ared for
the startling effect of her words. awrenoe
fell back, pallid as death, and trembling visibly.
For abrief space he had not even the strength to

 speak

“ It has become necessary to speak very
plainly,” she went on, her heart beating a little
quicker. “I have never complained, and will
not do so now. You know as well as I do how
much I have heme in silence. But the time has
come to assert myself. I am tired of all this
secrecy. It must come to an end, Lawrence-—
for your sake as Well as mine. I am resolved
to run all risks, and. from this time forward
take my true position in the world as your
Wi‘f‘eIlgh 11

at wi you do?” he cried rin ' to
his feet with an oath. ’ Sp gmg

“I fancied my meaning was perfectly clear.
To please you, m husband, I have kept aloof
from society all t 9 months of our married life.
Dangers have been incurred, the more thought
of which makes me shudder. But all this must
have an end. Your social position is far above
what you led me to believe when I became your
wife. Doubtless you had some good reason for
deceiving me. We will not speak of that. Now
that the first glamour of love has worn away,

on may even feel some regrets for having
inked your destiny with that of a penniless
governess. It is too late to give way to any
such feeling, Lawrence; I am yours, and you
are mine, forever! Forever 1”

Her voice softened as she went on, all harsh-
ness and coldness melted away. She leaned to-
ward him, stretching out her hands in eager
su plication.

‘ 0n] love me! I have no life save in you.
I shoul die if you were to turn utterly against
me. Don‘t doit, Lawrence! Bear with me a. lit-
I v ill be to you the best, truest wife man
ever had. Only‘return a little of the afiectio'n
I am luvishing so freely.”

She fell on the floor at his feet, and wound
her arms tightly about his knees:

Lawrence tore himself roughly from her cling-
ing arms. . .

“Have you concludedi’rhe said, in a hissmg
whis er.

u es.”

“Then I have a word to add, It was my in-

n'

sift,

10

A MAN’S SIN.

 

tention to break the truth to you gradually.
You have only yourself to blame for precipitat-
ing its disclosure. It was a false move to think
to take the leadership into your Own hands.
$31011: save yourself will be injured by your
0 .

The words fell on her heart like a blow. His
very looks frightened and appalled her.

“ What do you mean?” she paused.

“ I will tell you. It will be a relief to throw
03 the last vestige of disguise. Know then
that the time for acknowledging you to the
world as my Wife will never come! You have
no such claim upon me. The ceremony by
which I won you was utterly void and illegal.
I did not know it at the time, but learned the
fact afterward. I am as free from all ties, so
far as you are concerned, as I was the day we
first met.”

Neria made no response. She could not.
She sat for a moment as though slowly turning
to stone. Even her lips seemed to be frozen to-
gether.

Misled by her silence, Lawrence resumed in a
kinder tone of voice:

“ I am glad you are not disposed to take your
situation to heart. That would be useless. Of
course I mean to provide handsomely for you.
I am already negotiating for the purchase of
this cottage, and shall settle it upon y on with a
sufficient income. But you and

The sentence was never finished, for with a
wad, agonizing cry she fell at his feet, insen-
sr e.

Calling hurriedly to Mrs. Drury, he helped
place the unconscious girl on the sofa.

But he detested anythinglike a scene. Call—
ing hurriedly to Mrs. Drury, he helped place
the unconscious girl on the sofa.

“ Do What you can for your mistress,” he
said, pushing a few crumpled bank-notes into
the woman’s hand. “ Call in medical aid if' ne—
cessary, though it is probably a mere fainting-
flt. I can be of no use here, and might as well
go at once.”

And without even glancing again at the hap—
less young creature whose life he had ruthlessly
ruined and blighted, the heartless wretch left
the house.

CHAPTER VII.
DOUBLY DECEIVED.

SOME blows fall with such crushing force it is
difficult to believe in their reality. Thus it was
in N eria’s case. During the long watches of
that terrible night, after consciousness re-
turned, she continually asked herself it‘ it was
not all a hideous dream. Was it really she wno
had been so woefully deceived? Had Lawrence
really come and gone, and spoken the cruel
words to which she had listened!

At last, long after morning dawned, her mind
began to clear, and she was able to think con-
nectedly.

“ Lawrence’s stories about his mother’s illness
were base fabrications—idle excuses to put me
off,” she thought. " How weak I was to be de-
ceived by such hypocrisy! All these weeks he
, has been paving the way for a final separation

must part—” .

~—studying how to get rid of me with the least
trouble. Oh, my God! my God 1”

She could not wee , the solace of tears was
denied her. But her eart bled.

“ I see how it is,” she went on. “ The lady with
whom he was driving Isiesterday has supplanted
me in his affections. e is anxious to make her
his wife. He hung over her like an ardentlover.
Perhaps—perhaps—” shuddering, and clasping
her hands as a sudden thought struck terror to
her soul—“ they are married alread l”

The bare idea sufficed to arouse a 1 her slum-
bering energies. During Mrs. Drury’s tem‘
porary absence from the room, she arose and
dressed with feverish haste.

“The lady must be good and kind. I will
go to her, and tell her my simple story,” she
said, with sudden resolution. “She will not
refuse to listen. Treacherously as Lawrence
has dealt with me I love him yet. I am his
wife in the sight of Heaven, and no other we-
man can hold that relation to him while I live.
I will tell my rival so. I will ask her to give
up him I love. She will do it—slie cannot turn
a deaf ear to my prayers. Even Lawrence must
pity me. He will return to his old allegiance,
and I may be happ yet.”

Filled with this hopeful thought—a mad one,
alasl—she tied on her bonnet with trembling
fingers and went out.

The streets were filled with the usx: a1 bustling
crowd, but Neria hurried on without glancing
to the right or left. '

She had no very clear idea how to find the
lady of whom she was in search. She did not
even know whether she was a reSident of the
city or only a transient visitor. She was igno-
rant of her name, and not having seen her face,
might pass her on the street a dozen times with-
‘out suspecting heridentity. It seemed likea
ho eless quest.

‘ What am I to do?” she asked herself, a
feeling of utter despair coming OVer her.

Lawrence was probably still in the city. The
only feasible plan that suggested itself was to
find him, and. painful as the interview might
be. learn through his instrumentality the where-
abouts of the person in question.

Hailing a cab. she drove at once to the hotel
where she had found Lawrence on first coming
to the city, and called for the hotel register. It
was laid before her. and she ran her eyes hastily
over the list of arrivals for the previous day.

Lawrence Gordon’s name was not recorded
among the rest.

“He is stopping at some other hotel,” she
thought. “ I will go the rounds.”

She did so, everywhere meeting with the
same result. She even made inquiries, but n0
one could give her any informadon of suchfl
a person. At length, wearied out with the
fruitlessness of her efforts. she retl'aced her
steps to the first place visited.

“ I wish to communicate with Mr. Lawrence
Gordon. and have lost his addreSs,” she said to
the clerk, noticing his surprised look at her re“
appearance. “ Be good enough to inform me
when he was last here.”

“ I do not know any one by that name, ma"
dam.” was the answer. , 

“You (lo—you mustl" came the eager equer

  

 

A MAN’S SIN. ' n

 

mation. “Think again. Mr. Gordon always
stopped here during his infrequent visits to the
cit .’

'ly he man gravely shook his head.

“Then it must have been before my time,
madam, and I have been here two years.” .

Neria drew a startled breath. The insinu-
ation Mrs. Gross had made long before, that
Gordon might be a fictitious name, instantly
suggested itself to her mind.

“ Let me see the register again,” she cried, her
heart beating and her brain reeling.

She knew the date of Lawrence’s first secret
flight, and hastily turned back to it. The page
was well filled with names, but that for which
she looked did not anywhere appear.

“Thank you,” she said, in a husky voice,
pushing back the book. ‘I will not trouble
you further.”

The conviction was forcing its way home to
her unwilling mind that Lawrence had deceived
her in respect to his name as in all things else.
She had not even a. clew by which to trace
him.

. Nearer dead than alive she made her way

l

back to the little cottage that was now her only ‘

home. Mrs Drury stood in the door, anxiously
watching for her reappearance.

“How long you were,” said the woman,
breathing a sigh of relief. “1 had given up all
expectation of seeing you again. Poor child
you look like death. Come in and lie down. I
know you are in trouble, but you will feel bet-

ter by and by. ~One can learn to bear almost ‘

anything.”

Neria made no response. Her temples were
throbbing frightfully, and once l-aving gained
her room she fel.‘ upon the bed, and buried her
forehead in the pillow.

“ Heaven help me,” moaned the poor crew
turo, “or I shall go mad.”

What was to become of her in this distressing
strait? In point of fact she was both nameless
and homeless. Nameless, for she had no right
to the title she had once worn with such tender
Bride—homeless, because she would sooner have

egged or starved than remain indebted for the
food she ate and the roof that sheltered her to
him who had baser deserted her.

“ I must leave here at once—make my own
way in the world,” she thought. “ But where,
Where shall I go? Where hide my shame and
misery? And who will take me in ’9”

The thought of her early friends—those from
Whom she had been so long estranged—was first
to suggest itself. It would bring greater com-
fort than anything else to seek a reconciliation,
and be able to throw herself upon their come
passion.

But pride rebelled.

'f‘Never, no, never!” she cried. “That Imp-
piness is denied me. I am under a ban. The
trouble that has overtaken mo shuts me out for—
.War from the society of all 1 have ever known.»

cannot go back to the dear ones who once

‘ faCed lady inquired if she were ill.

 

Oved me, with such a sad, shameful, terrible .f ‘
’ the carriage by friendly hands; then all was a

story,”
Gradually, as she reflected, a longing to hide
erself somewhere in the great city of New
York, took possession of her mind. It might
“V0 been because that was LawrenCe’s home.

i

and she could still be near him, barren comfort
though this would be, or‘ simply because in a
vast metropolis she could hope to lose her
identity more effectually than elsewhere. She
did not stop to analyze the ieeling, but simply
gave way to it. .

“I will go now, this very night,” she re-
solved.

Reason told her it would not be well to ac-
quaint Mrs. Drury with this determination.
She waited until nearly midnight, when the
house was still and the good womanwrapped in
rapese.‘ Gathering up a few little trinkets, and
putting some money in her purse, she went
forth to the new. untried life before her.

CHAPTER VIII.
A NEW HOME AND A NEW NAME.
IN the gra y light of early dawn Neria reached
N cw York.
It was with a terrible sense of issolation that
she stole forth from the railway terminus into
the unfamiliar streets of the great city.

 

She wandered on, aimlessly and recklessly,‘
*her brain in a Wlld whirl

People turned to
look at her as she passed, and once a pleasant-
Neria did
not even hear the question. She felt dead and
benumbed mentally, only alive to physical pain.

At length she reached the Park. t was now
past ten o’clock. Utterly worn out, she could
scarcely drag One limb after the other. She

threw herself, half-fainting, into one of the rus-,

tic chairs.

What followed she could never clearly rec-all.
She seemed to wake up out of a lethargy to find
a tall, handsome, noble-looking man standing
beside her, tightly grasping her arms.

. “ What is the matter?” she heard the gentle-
man say. “Try to reuse yourself sufficiently
to tell me.”

She lifted her dazed eyes to his face, but made
no response.

“I wish to know who you are that I may

take you to your friends,” he persisted.
The last word riveted Nerla’s attention for a.
moment.
“Friends?” she repeated. “Friends?

are they l” .
“ That is what I wish to discover. Pray tell
She clOsed her eyes, and sunk

me.”

No answer.
again into a state of semi-unconsciousness.

“ Poor thing," said the man.
to be very ill. What a pretty face only so full
of sorrow! It is a pity she can tell, me nothing
of her friends.

ital.”

He reflected a moment, and finally walked a
few steps down the path to where a carriage
stood waiting in the drive.

“ Follow me, James,” he said to the footman.
“I have found a young lady who is ill and de-
lirious. I will take her home with me until We
can hear tidings of her friends.” _

Neria was dimly conscious of being borne to

blank.
Many days and weeks had gone by before she

awakened again to full consciousness of her own
existence.

W‘no.

“ She is going I

I dislike to send her toa. hos-.

 

»12

, A MAN’S SIN.

 

She found herself lying on a daintily—draped
couch in a pleasant chamber. A small table.
littered with vials and medicine glasses, stood
near. The bed was near the window, the cur-
tains of which had been drawn a art. With
her head resting upon the pillow, eria could
see the landscape stretching below.

She started, pressed her hand wildly to her
forehead The hills and valleys were covered
with a white mantle like a shroud! She had
gone to sleep, as it were, with all the glories of
autumn about her, and now it seemed to be mid-
Winter, or nearly so.

The door opened, Neria heard footsteps ap-
proaching the bed. ‘.‘ Oh. Gilbert 1” a soft voice
exclaimed, in a delighted whisper. “there has
been a change! I do believe the poor girl has
come to her right mind at last i”

“ Hush I” came the warning answer. “ Do
not startle the child.” ,

Neria turned her gaze full upon the speakers.
She saw the same handsome gentleman Whose
face she remembered in the Park, and a lady
several years older than himself, but closely re-
sembling him, who was evidently his sister.

“Where am I?” she asked, in a weak voice.

“ With those who will take good care of you,”
the lady answered, coming nearer, and speak-
ing in a tone of repressed excitement. “Do
not be alarmed, or borrow any trouble.”

“ Who brought me here?”

_ “My brother. He found you in the Park,
sick and delirious. We did not know Where to
find your friends. and have cared for you our-
selves.”

Tears stood in Neria’s eyes. She put up her
hand to brush them away, and then noticed for
the first time how thin, white and wasted it
was.

" I must have been ill a long while,” she said.
_“ Yes, many weeks,” was the answer.

you are not to talk about it new, or excite your-

self. You are still very weak.”

“ What is the name of this place?”

“ Cragnest. It belongs to my brother, Gil-
bert Brandon. I am Mrs. Charlton. That is

“But ,

all you need know for the present. We will :

talk more about it when you are stronger.”

Neria took .unquestioningly the composing!

' draught that was now placcd at her lips. Some
how she felt a. deep sense of peace and security,
as though she were homeless and friendless ,no
longer. .

The next day she felt better and stronger.
Awaking from a refreshing sleep to find Mrs.
Charlton sitting alone beside the couch, she said
eagerly:

" Has any one

“No,” the lady answered.
in the papers, but there was no response.
friends have utterly lost sight of you.” .

Neria remained silent for sometime, With her
face turned to the wall. What had occurred
during the long weeks while she had lain un-
conscwus? Was Lawrence lost to her forever:
Had he well-nigh forgotten her already, and
married her unknown rival} .

Mrs. Charlton’s voice, full of affe tion and
sympathy, aroiisod her from these bitter ro—
flecllons.

“ Perhaps there is some person for whom you

been here to ask after me?”
“ We advertised
Your

would like to send, my dear? If so, you have
only to give me the name and addres, and I
will communicate with them at once.”

Neria started, and felt the heavy drops
gather on her forehead.

“No, no,” she said. “You are very kind—-
you have only been too good to me. But there
is no one I wish to see—not one I”

“Have you no mother—no sisters?” Mrs.

Charlton asked, looking at her in a bewildered ~

wa .

“They think me dead, no doubt, and have
forgotten me. I am dead—to them.”

“ How strangely you talk.
trouble must have befallen you.”

“Yes,” Ncria answered, casting down her
gaze.
still alive.”

Mrs. Charlton’s countenance betrayed per-
plexity and curiosity. It was only natural that
she should wonder what had so blighted the life
of one so young and beautiful.

“ Poor child,” she said. “One of these days
you shall tell me something of your history. I
know from your looks it must be a very sad
one. But we will wait until you are strongen
All I desire just now is to know by what name
to address you.”

Neria hesitated. What should she say—she
who was without a name she could rightfully
call her 0 .m?

“You may call me perdu,” she said, very
low; adding to herself: “Pordu means lost;
and so am I—lost to peace and happiness for-
evermore.” .

Mrs. Charlton did not quite catch the words.

“ Perdy?” she repeated. “ I have heard that
name before.” .

Neria suffered the mistake to pass without
correction.

Thus it was that our hapless heroine became
known to her new associates simply as “Miss
Perdy.”

 

CHAPTER IX.
A MYSTERY IN THE HOUSE.

DAYS wore on, and Neria began slowly to
convalesce.

When she was able to sit up a few hours at a
time, it was Gilbert Brandon who kept her
company even more frequently than did hm
sister. He had taken a deep interest In the
young girl from the first. Her beauty, ap—
parent friendlessness, and settled sadness, ap'
penled strong! y to his sensibilities. and fastened
astmm: hold upon his heart. He felt an m-
sfim't‘ve longing to succor and comfort her.

Neria neVer thought it possible that harm
could result from lhess interviews. The kind'
ness of these new—found friends gave herofresb
hope and courage. The world seemed a brighter
and better place than formerly, and she became
almost reconciled to existence. Ah, how dfl'
ferent her life might have been with such 111‘
fluences continually thrown around her!

On one occasion, when he was rising to 198W.
after an unusually pleasant 1nterv1ew, Nana,

Charljf

extended her hand impulsively and said:
“How can I ever repay you and Mrs.
ton for your many kindnesses to me?”

Some great V

“ So great the only wonder is that I am _

Lin,.

 

  
   

A MAN’S sin.

Q.

13,

 

“Do not speak of them,” he answered. ‘

“There is nothing you need to remember.”

“ I must leave you soon, and it will be a great ‘
grief to bid adieu to such pleasant associa- .

tions.”

|
l
l
l
l
l
l
I
l
l

l She spoke frankly, under the impulse of the ‘

moment, and was surprised to see him start and
lose color.

“Leave us?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I shall soon be well
and strong again. 1 am now gaining rapidly.”

“But why need you go away!”

t. She lifted her eyes in amazement at the ques~
ion.

“Why? Because I have trespassed too long
already upon your kindness.
Upon you is the common one of humanity. Be-
sides, I have my own way to make in the
World. It will never do to remain idle too long.
éought to begin looking for a situation without

ela .”

Aybrief silence fell, during which Gilbert
Brandon seemed to be reflecting.

“ What can you do?” he asked, at length.
“ That is, what do you wish to do?”

“I have lived as governess in two or three
families already. I can do that again, or find
It situation as ‘ companion’ to some elderly

( v. -

No more was said at the time. But the next
day Mrs. Charlton came to Neria and said:

“ Gilbert and I have been discussing your af-
fairs. Cragnest is a large house; there are no
near neighbors, and the city is several miles
away. I am often lonely during my brother’s
frequent absences from home. We have often
Palked of bringing some cheerful young person
Into the house, just to keep me company. How
Would you like to remain in that capacity?”

Neria’s eyes filled with tears, it was so much
better than anything she had expected. What
8. relief still to remain under that happy, peaCe-

ul roofl

“How good you are I” she uttered. “But I

2 fear on have made a want just to oblige me.”

“ b, no. And what if I had? It is really
’myself who will be accommodated. I receive
.but little company and should miss you sadly

, Were you to go away. Nothing would suit me
l letter than to keep you with me for the present.
‘ 011 will stay?”
1’ course Neria consented. She even felt
grateful to Heaven for opening up such an op-
\ l."\’.1‘tunity; for no inward voice whispered a
girlqndly warning of the frightful peril into
. ““hich she was rushing unwitiingly.
lg gragnest was a commodious country-house
nnlt on the hills, overlooking the Hudson.
, eria had not mingled freely with the family
many days before she discovered that even this
beautiful home had its skeleton. One wing of

e mansion was shut up, and even the servants
“book their heads and looked grave whenever it
“as mentioned.

.MI‘S. Charlton’s fair brow was often wrinkled

1 anxious care, and Gilbert Brandon’s hand-

} g‘lm'le face wore an expression of settled melan-
?. 3013’. as though he had drank deep of the cup
“SOITow.

Why is it?” Neria asked herself. wender-

l

 

My only claim ‘

 

ingly. “ Is there nowhere an Eden that grief
and suffering have not invaded?’

At last there came a time when she was des-
tined to learn more‘of this secret trouble. On

- her we to her chamber, one night, arandom
gust 0 wind, apparently from an open win:

dow, suddenly extinguished the wax tapershe
carried. Hesitating an instant, undecided whe-
ther to go on or turn back, she heard the soft
patter of naked feet on the floor,uand all at
once something shadowy and dark sprung upon
her with a strange cry, between a shriek and a
snarl of rage.

Poor N eria was dreadfully frightened. A
scream of terror broke from or lips, and she
struggled frantically to break away from the
vise-like grasp that held her fast. Despite every
eifort, however, the claw-like fingers that
clutched her throat closed upon it so tightly her
br’erigi reeled, and she was almost suffocated.

is deadly peril lasted buta moment. There

came a. rush of footsteps along the corridor,

Eng Gilbert Brandon appeared, bringing a.
g 1.1.

N eria saw him rush to her rescue; then, for a
few seconds, she knew nothing more.

When consciousness fully returned, she found
herself alone, sitting close to the wall, her head
resting against a chair.

“ What can be the meaning of all this?” she
thought, leaning forward with clasped hands
and a wildly beating heart. ‘

Mr. Brandon‘s voice came indistinctly to her
ears for an instant. He was speaking in the
coaxing, supplicating accents one employs with
a wayward child, but the words were inaudible.
Finally a door closed in the distance, and even
these sounds died away. ‘ .

N aria sat motionless, her eyes dilated With
terror. After a long interval there came a
glimmer of light at the far-end of the corridor,
and Mr. Brandon swiftlyapproached. _ He was
as pale as death, the muscles about his mouth
twitching convulsively. .

“Are you hurt?” he asked, coming close to
her side.

“ N 0, only frightened,” she answered, speak-
ing with great difliculty.

“It is well. I will see you to the door of
your chamber. These corridors are not safe
for you after nightfall, it appe ~rs.”

Neria followed on, filled with vague wonder.
She still hoped he would offer some explanation
of the strange episode, but such was not his in-
telltlon. Placing his own lamp in her hand, he
said in an earnest voiCe at parting:

“ Take m advice, child, and lock your cham-

ber door. lock it securely. Never trust our-
self a moment in any other way. od-
ni~ht.”

glcep had been banished from Neria’s pillow
by what had occurred. She tossed restlessly
for hours, pondering the strange mystery, but
unable to arriVe at a satisfactory solution. She
could not divine who the strange bcmg by
whom she had been assaulted could be.

The next morning she felt sorely tempted to
question Mrs. Charlton, but was at a loss how
to begin. The peculiar way in which ‘the lady
looked at her when they first met, plainly mdi-

' ‘1 vi):

3;,

 

 

14'

dated that she knew all. They were sitting to-
gether after breakfast—a meal from which Mr.
Brandon had absented himself, by the way—-
when Neria abruptly said:

“ You have never told me, madam, why the
north wing was shut up.”

“The remainder of the house is sufficient for
present use,” was the quiet answer. “We do
not wish to be burdned with the care of so
much.”

“It appears to be the finest portion of the
house.”

f “Yes, some of the rooms are very beauti-
ul.”
“ Some day I would like to explore them. if
you have no objection.” Neria said, wistfully,
unwilling to let the subject drop.

- Mrs. Charlton wrinkled her brows in some-
thin like a frown.

“ on would find nothing of interest, my
dear. Indeed, the less you have to do with that
wing the better. Pray do not allude to it
again.”

Neria smothered a. sigh of disappointment.

Everything went 0r quietly for several days.
The only perceptible doii‘erence was shown in
the deeper solicitude for the girl’s comfort that
Mr. Brandon manifested. and the fact that she
was never permitted to move about the house
at night unattended.

One morning Neria had left the house for a
solitary ramble in the grounds. and was passn g
the north wing, when she heard a strange, dis-
cf'r'lant noise ‘above her head, and on looking
up beheld a wild, woeful face glued for an in-
stant against the glass.

Such a terrible face! The mere sight of it
was enough to curdle the blood in N eria’s wins,
an I when a torrent of curses and angry vitnper—
aiions broke from the bloodless lips, she shrunk
back appalled.

Only a chance word now and then reached
the girl’s ,ears, but she was completely un-
nerved. Rallying her failing courage at last by
a terrible effort she rushed on to a sort of ob—
servatory that had been built close to the edge
of the precipice, and climbing the stairs, threw
herself breathlessly into a seat.

What had she beheld i—what discovery made?
th0 was the mysterious being imprisoned in
the shut-up chambers of the north wing?

For some time she sat motionless, revolving
these questions in her mind. Suddenly the lit-
tle octagon chamber in which she set began fill-
ing with smoke. It was quite dense, almost
stiflingly so, before she noticed it at all in her
preoccupation. As she started up in alarm, the

sharp, crackling sound of flames smote upon her

ears.

The truth flashed upon her mind at once.
The building was on firel

It had been erected to look down upon the
river, and was only 0 on on that side. Below
was a sneer descent o a hundred feet. Escape
in that direction was impossible. Neria rushed
to the door. Some one had stolen up behind
her, closing and looking it on the other sidel

The cry of uncontrollable terror that rose
to her lips as she made this discovery was
echoed by a mocking voice withoutl

A MAN’S SIN.

 

CHAPTER X.
TORTURED HEARTS.

NERIA instantly comprehended the extent of
her peril. lt was the unknown inmate of the
nortn wing who had stolen forth, locked her
into the upper chamber of the observatory, and
kindled a fire in the lower room. with the ter-
rihle purpose of roasting her alive!

She did not step to ask herself what could
have been the motive impelling to such a deed.
The danger was too imminent. Beating her
clinched fists against the door, she shrieked
loudly for succor.

“Scream away!” cried the jeering voice be-
low. “ It will not avail. Every sound of agony
makes my heart dance Nth joy. Ashes to
ashes! In a few moments nothing will be left
of your fatal beauty save a few charred and
blackened bones!”

Neria sickened with horror.

“Help me, oh, Father in heaven!” she cried,
with pallid lips. “ D mot let me perish thus 1”

That prayer was answered. Hurried foot-
steps cros5ed the lawn, and she heard Mr.
Brandon’s voice, as he addressed a few words to
the would-be murderess in accents of blended
anger and sorrow.

“\Vhat new madness is this, Fedora? Why
is it that you take such pleasure in destroying?
Life and property are no longer safe where you
are. You will yet compel me to deal severely
with you. It is a mystery how you managed
to csca pe again 1”

“ My master, the devil, helped me,” came the
cunning rejoinder. ,

“ I believe he did. But you must come back
with me at once. It is not prudent to leave you
at large. Come, that’s a good soul, Fedora.”

Tne tone was persuasive, such as one might
use to an irresponsible child. The woman
laughed-shrilly as she made response:

“I am ready. Let us go quickl , Gilbert.
The old tower is of no consequence: et it burn!
It has long been an eyesore—a. blot upon the
landscape. Come, oimel I wish to be locked
up. Make haste, before my mood changes, and
the devil gets hold of me again.”

She was doing her best to hurry him away.
Poor Neria, whose hearing seemed almost pain—
fully acute at that trying moment, had caught
every word. Mr. Brandon did not suspect her
presence in that living tombl- He was going
away—leaving her to perish!

The thought called back her ebbing strength.
Again rushing to the door she beat upon it with
both hands, screaming in accents of awful ter—
ror:

“ He] , help! For God’s sake do not leave me
here to e burned alive l”

That cry was heard. Heavy footsteps can?)e

bounding up the stairs—.the door was burst In

with one determined blow, and Gilbert Bran‘ -

don sprung across the threshold, letting in 9’

 

cloud of smoke and a torrent of hot, stifling 

air. a i
“ Who calls?” he cried,unable to see an thing ‘
for a moment in the thick atmosphere. “ urely
I heard a voice.” . ‘
Then his glance fell upon Neria.
crouching on the floor. almost at his feet.

She W65 I ‘I
faint» "

a;

   
 
 
 

a..-‘ __ . a _ I __i_.‘._,_..___..._..__n,.__. . -.

and giddy with terror. Uttering a wild cry. he
caught her up. and drew her with a. frantic ges-
ture to his breast.
f ;‘ l‘lerial Oh, my God! This is too dread-
u l7

Neria felt dazcd and bewildered. She could
not even struggle in that strong, breathless em-
brace. She lay helpless in his arms while he
made his way slowly down the staircase. It
was already crumbling away. The flames had

caught the baluster, and more than once the I
terrified girl felt their hot breath scorching her i
cheek. The deSCent had barely been accom- ‘

plished when the stairs fell with a loud crash.

Outside stood the mad, gibbering creature
who had wrought this Work of destruction.

Neria caught one9 glimpse of the wild, livid
face, and eyes burning with a. lurid light, then
fainted away.

She was lying on the sofa in the back parlor
when she recovered. Mrs. Charlton stood over
her with a bottle of smelling salts, pale as death,
with tears streaming down her face.

“ The fire!” Neria panted, starting up, and
failing to realize at once her changed situation.
“ It is coming nearer! My God, I shall be
burned alive!”

Mrs. Charlton laid her hand on the girl’s
burning brow, trying to sonthe her.

“Be calm, dear child. You were in danger,
but it is over now. There is nothing to fear.
Do you not see that this is the old. familiar
room where we have spent so many happy

'hours, and that I am here beside you?"
ror. Oh, it was dreadful!” ;

She hid her face in her hands. at the thought 3
of the peril she had eseapcd, and shuddered con- i

vulsively. ,

" That woman saw me enter the tower,” she ;
added, after a thoughtful pause. “ She was at 1
one of the Windows in the north wing when I ‘
went by. Ofcourse she followed me, and set fire ‘
to the building for the sole purpose of destroy- i
in me. What have I ever donevto gain her en- 1
mity? Oh, why did she do it, Mrs. Charlton?
Why did she?” * |

“The poor creature is mad—not accounfable
for her own acts,” was the anSWer.

“But who is that dreadful woman?”

The reply came after a hesitating pause.

.“ A friendless soul my brother shelters out of

lty. There is noone el~e to take an interest in '

er. I regret exceedingly that she has crossed
your path. I hoped to keep youignorant of her
Very existence. The servants know that she in-
habits the north wing. but they are pledged to
Secrecy; and no one outside our little household ;
ever sus eats the facts.”

Neria ifted her eyes in a perplexed look.

. “I do not know why she should be shut up ‘
like a prisoner.”

“Because it is dangerous for her to run at
large. You can see that for yourself. And
there is another reason for the course we pur—
sure—one quite as potent as the first.”

Glancing quickly round the room, Mrs. Charl-

On drew nearer, and added in suppressed tones:

‘ You are such a. sensible person, Miss Peydy,‘
I am tempted to tell you more. I know you.
can be trusted with a secret. That unfortunate

A MAN’S SIN.

1
l

“ I do now. But I was half-crazed with ter- 

15

 

woman has..been guilty of ~a great crime! I

need not recount the circumstances connected
with it. They are too horrible for me to touch
upon. All that has kept Fedora from being in-
‘ carcerated within the gloomy walls of a prison
is the fact that the authorities are ignorant of
herexistence. It is generally believad that she
perished in an accident, years ago. Gilbert and
have kept her secreted here ever since. You
may imagine, words cannot describe, what a
burden she has been to us.”

Mrs. Charlton sighed heavily, the old look of
anxious care that Neria remembered so well re-
, appearingin her face. , .

“At times Fedora is as rational as either on
i or I. It would be no easy matter to have er
adjudged insane. Besides, Gilbert will not run
the risk. It is a. terrible thing for him—”
b She broke off abruptly, a flush rising to her
row.
“I must not talk so much. You have been
1 told all that is necessary.”
I A step now sounded outside the door. Mrs.
“It is my brother,”

' Charlton turned hastily.
“ He is very anxiom about you, dear.

she said.
‘ 1 shall tell him he may come in.”

She was gone before Neria could interpose.

Mr. Brandon advanced slowly into the room.
He had evidently schooled himself to calmness;
his face, though very pale, was grave and al-
most stern in its expression.

“ I am glad to find you so much better, Miss
Perdy,” he said, very quietly. “It was a nar-
row escape; I shudderto think of it.”

The words were such as he might have ad-
dressed to a stranger. Just then he ventured
to look at her for the first time. Had her
manner been composed, like his own, all
might have been well. But her blushes and
embarrassment utterly broke him down.

“ Nerial Oh, my darling!" he cried, flinging
himself on his knees before her. “ Is it possible
that my love is returned? Ah, this is more than
I rxpected l”

Neria put up her hand to stop him. She 

turned sick with terror and an ish. '

“Hush 1” she breathed. “ ou do. not know
what you are saying. Never, never Speak to
me like that againl”

“I did not intend to speak now,” bean-
swcred, his face distorted with suffering.
“God forgive me! I am a wretch. I have no
right to utter such words to any woman. Oh,
what have I done? How could I so far forget
myself?”

And .
head with a gesture of intolerable angulsh.

CHAPTER XL
REVELATIONS. ‘

NERIA looked at him a moment in silence.
This sudden burst of contrition surprised and
startled her. What did it mean? Ignorant as
he was of her own history, it could only have
reference to himself. .

“Leave me, Mr. Brandon,” she said, at
len th, in a faint voice. . o .
not ing in common. This scene ls too painful
to be protracted.” .

“ Do on forgive me?” he asked, husklly, lift-
ing his burning eyes to her face.

 

s

a

he struck both hands against his fore-

58‘“ ‘I .

 

“ You and I can have “

‘fism‘vvfryu ,fl. . .

16

A MAN’S SIN.

 

“ For what?”

“ For deceiving you. Of course you have di-
vined the truth—what relation that wretched
madwoman bears to me? Oh, it is horrible] I
cannot tell you what I have suffered through
her. It was a mistake not to have told you all
long ago! But I meant no wrong; I did not
realize my own weakness, and now it is too
late.”

There was something appalling in the low
cry of agony that broke from his lips.

‘I do not understand,” taltered Neria.
“ That woman——why do you speak of her
again?”

“Ah, how can I tell you?”

A sudden conviction drove every drop of
blood from Neria’s heart.

“She is your wife?”

“Yes.”'

He turned away, and strode up and down the
room for a while, his features working con-
vulsively. Then he confronted Neria again.
She was sitting motionless as a figure carved in
marble, but her eyes were full of a divine com-
passion as she lifted them to his face.

“ I am shocked and grieved by the revelation
you have made,” she said. “ Mrs. Charlton had
already told me somethin of that poor soul——
but not all. I pity you. rom the depths of
my heart I pity you. It must be a terrible

thing to be linked by destiny with one like 
her’

“Then you have forgiven me for suffering
my heart to go out in love for you while duty
and honor bound me to another?”

. 1Afs there was no response he went on fever-
ISO 2
“I did not realize my own danger until it
was too late. Years ago, when this trouble
first came upon me, I took up the grievous bur-
den of life, resolved to bear it uncomplainingly
to the end. I have so borne it up to the moment
you came among us; The shame and torment I
suffered were hidden in the recesses of my
own heart. I withdrew from the world and de-
voted myself exclusively to the care of Fedora,
shielding her in every possible way. I bore pa.-
tiently with her ill-temper, waywardness and
etty jealousies. No man ever tried harder to
0 his duty.

“ The struggle has well-nigh broken me down,
however. I have grown old and gray in the
flower of my manhood. Endurance fails, pa—
tience is well—nigh worn out. There must be a
limit to all things. I was sick and tired of the
burden of life long before you came among us,
Miss Perdy.” _

Neria started slightly, as she always did on
hearing the false name spoken unexpectedly,
but leaned forward in anattitude of silent at—
tention.

“ No suspicion of danger crossed my mind un-
til the ni ht Fedora assaulted you in the cor-
ridor. hen I awakened suddenly to a realiza-
tion of the truth-that I had learned to love
you with a mad intensity of which I had
deemed myself incapable. I had not the cour-
age to flee from the peril that menaced us both,
however. It seemed too dreadful to shut out
the only ray of comfort that had fallen upon
my solitary life. I imagined myself strong

‘ huskily, after a brief pause.

 

enough to hide my madne in my own heart
forever. Oh, fatal mistake! Love like mine
can never be suppressed 1”

He hid his face in his hands a moment, strug-
gling for self-control.

Neria felt deeply touched. How grand, noble
and self-denying this man seemed, even in his
sorrowl Unconsciously she compared him with
Lawrence, feeling a vague wish that the latter
had possessed more of his attributes.

“Perhaps I have said too much,” he added,
“If so, I have
only to crave your forgiveness for that, as well
as for having loved you. This is the last exhi~
bition of folly to which I shall give way. Here-
after we will be friends. I vfish you to forget
that this episode ever occurred.”

He was turning away, his face full of a
yearning sadness; but Neria stopped him by a
gesture.

“One moment,” she said, with forced calm-
ness. “I have a. confession to make in return
for yours. If you are guilty, I am immeasur-
ably more so. If you ave worn a mask, so
have I. If you have hidden in your heart a
sorrowful secret that was eating your very
life ’away, I know how to sympathize with

ou. .

“What do you mean? Is it possible—”

She did not wait for him to continue.

“While I have strength to do so,” she re-
sumed, dropping her e es, “let me tell you why
I do not love you. an never could, under any
circumstances. My whole heart is given to
another! He has proven himself unworthy, it
is true, but love is long-suffering! Even the
memory of past happiness is sweeter than any
present passion could be. Though you were a
free man at this moment, I could never be more
to you than a friend.”

Gilbert Brandon grew very pale.

“I have deceived you and Mrs. Charlton—
the kindest, best friends I ever had.” she re—
sumed. “I should hava told you all, long ago,
but shame sealed my lips. I have no right even
to the name I bear.”

“No matter,” he said, catching his breath.
“You must have had good reason for imposing
upon us one that is not your own.”

“It came about quite by accident, in the first
place. I told Mrs. Charlton she might call me
perdu—lost. It was a foolish speech, and meant
nothing. She failed to catch the word cor-
rectly, and ever since I have been known as
‘Miss Perdy.’ The error was allowed to pass
uncorrected. What difference did it make? I
do not know myself what name rightfully be-
lon s to me.”

r. Brandon looked at her in amazement.

“ How is that possible?”

“Because I am a disowned wife—or worse
than that.”

She buried her face upon her arms that she
might not see the expression of horror and an-
guish With which he regarded her.

“Let me tell my story from the beginning,”
she went on, speaking rapidly, with her face
still averted. “Years ago my father’s family
was one of wealth and influence. Our home
was 1n_Washington. We moved in the best
soc1al Circles of the city. Reverses came, how-

 

 

 

v .

ever; we were deprived of everything. My
mother died; myfiather’s health failed, and my
sister Edna. and I were thrown upon our own
resources.

“ I was scarcely sixteen at the time. Trouble
had changed my father’s whole nature. He
became exacting and tyrannical. When at
length a. suitor for my hand appeared in the
person of a. wealthy old gentleman more than

treble my own age, papa would hear to no re- ‘

monstrance, but commanded me to prepare my-
self for the marriage without delay.

" A MAN’S SIN.

l

l
l

1?

“Neria—”

She quick] raised her hand. .

“Hush! am not strong as I was once.
Please go away. Give me time to reflect
calmly upon what has occurred. Then I shall
be able to see my way more clearly than at
present.”

He clasped her passive fingers—even laid
them against his cheek for a moment.

“ God help you,” he said; and so left her.

Neria turned her face to the wall with a
long, sobbing sigh. It seemed as though her '

“I need not dwell upon the scenes that fol- I last friend had gone from her.

lowed. My whole soul rebelled against the un-
matural union. Prayers, tears and expostula-
tions were in vain, however. I had my choice
to obey, or leave my father’s house forever.
“Edna sided with papa. She could not en-
dure a life of poverty and added to my misery
by her reproaches and entreaties. She thought
I might sacrifice myself for the common
ood.
g “ You divine the result, perhaps. Unable to
comply with their Wishes, I fled one fatal night

from home, and going to another city, obtained ‘
a position as governess in a. private family. ‘

From that day to this I have never entered my
father’s house or heard one word from him or
my sister.”

She paused a moment to gather strength.
Mr. Brandon stood as if turned to stone, pallid
and motionless. The worst was yet to come.

Neria’s head sunk lower and lower, and it
was in a scarcely audible voice that she finished
her story. .

Very briefly she s oke of the chance meeting
with Lawrence Gor on, the sudden passion his
handsome face inspired, the rash marriage—or
what she took to be one—that. followed the
long, happy months of her SOJOUI‘D at ake

(“e ' e nd finall of the terrible awakenin 3
I Dig , a y g ‘ -—I could not endure the thou ht of cold words

that came to her brief but happy dream when
she learned of her lover’s unworthiness, and he
had cruelly deserted her.

The wretched man pressed his hands to his
temples more than once before she concluded.
He had drunk deep of the cup of sorrow al-
ready, but never had he experienced a moment
so full of agony as this. _ _

‘.' Poor, poor child!” he said, in a hoarse
choked voice. “ How you have sutferedl And
I have only added to your misery by my un~
warrantable folly.” .

“ Do not reproach yourself ; there is no
need.” ‘

“ How can you ever forgive me?”

She raised her head, her beautiful eyes shin-

. ing upon him full of remorse and contrition.

“ It is I who have need of pardon,” she said,
humbly. “I had no right to enter this house
under false retenses. Had the truth been
known, I mig t not have been harbored here a
single day.”

“Oh, you would, you would,” he answered,
earnestly.

“ Forgive me for having sullied your beauti-
ul home by mfipresence. I have been almost
appy here. y troubles seemed less insup

Portable. I could not tear myself away at
Once. I had suffered s0 much—the very at-
mosnhere was full of peace.”

I

 

 

“Must I tear myself away from even this
gefiagg?” she murmured. “Oh, it is Very
ar . .

CHAPTER XII.

THE HAND or FATE.

MORE than an hour went by, and at last a.
soft, gliding step entered the room, and ap-
proached the couch on which Neria was 1 in .

"Gilbert has told me all,” said Mrs. har-
ton’s low, sweet voice, “ and I am here to offer
my love and sympathy. Your lot has been a
bitter one, poor child.’

The girl lifted her streaming eyes to the kind
face that bent above her.

“ Have you no word of reproach to utter for
havin deceived on?” she asked. “Not one?”

“ by should '9‘ .No one ever inquired very
closely into your past history, and it was not
to be expected that you would volunteer inc
formation concerning it. The only deception ' .
you have practiced has been in the silence, that
you have maintained.”

“ 1t was a distressing subject to talkhbout. I
often felt tempted to speak and knew it was my
duty. But my courage always failed when it
came to the test. You had been so kind to me

 

and averted looks. But God as taken his own
way of setting things right. I am sure you can
bear with me a little longer.” _

“ What do you mean .4” Mrs. Charlton m-
quired, struck b the hopelessness of the tone.

“ Of course must eave here at once.
must go out into the world to try my iortunes
anew.” ‘

A slight flush kindled in the checks of the
elder lady.

“ Of. course you refer to my brother’s_unha py
attachment for you,” she said. “ It is use es:
for us to disguise matters any longer. How
unfortunate that you should have won his heart
so entire] 1 I am not surprised, however. You
are just the sort of person he could learn to love
idolatrously, were every obstacle removed.
Poor fellow l what has he not endured l”_

Then, after a moment given to reflection, she
added: _

“ You have decided Wisely —you must go
away. This house is no longera proper refuge
for you. Deeply as it will grieve me to part
with you I cannot urge you. to remain.”

“ Let me go at once—this_ very hour,” cried
Neria, starting up with burning cheeks.

“ Calm yourself. There is no need of extreme
haste. I intend finding you a good posrtion

. with some kind person. to recompense you for

 

 

- a:

18
the one you have lost. Nothing less would
satisfy me. I will drive to the city the first

-_.. thing to-morrow morning, and make inqui..ies

long before.

amon my friends.”
Neria fell back again, her eyes flooded with

ears.

“I will do anything you advise,” she said,
humbly.

“ That is right, dear. 1 know you will find it
hard to go among strangers again, but look /to
God for encouragement. He will give you
strength for whatever trials are in store for
you.

During the long hours of the night that fol-
lowed, Neria lay wide awake, thinking of her
wrongs, and the fresh trouble that had arisen.
It seemed like a second banishment to leave
this comfortable home that she had found so
pleasant, and go out into the cold, unfceling
werld again. ‘

Before morning dawned she had succeedfid in
calming her fevered pulses a little.
Charlton came up-stairs to say good—by before
setting out for the city, N eria ad dressed her-

A MAN’S SIN.

 

wept over ‘her, exacting promises of frequent
visits, but Mr. Brandon did not appear. Neria
was spared the embarrassment of a formal
parting with him.

The Atherton mansion was a large, hand-
some house in the suburbs of the city. The
grounds about it were spacious, and evidently
well kept during the proper season. Everything
Neria observed indicated the abundant means
and good taste of the owner.

A well-bred servant ushered her into the spa-
cious hall. “What name shall I say ’9” he in-
quired, throwing open the door of a small but
handsomely-furnished reception-room.

Neria hesitated. She could not quite recon-

? cile it with her conscience to give a false name,

When Mrs. f

self, and was sitting up at the open window, ‘

pallid and cold, but very calm.

“Take courage,” whispered the kind lady. 5 h

“ You will always find a friend in me—I do not
intend ever to lose sight of you. There are
hosts of good people in the world. I hope to
find you a home so pleasant you will soon cease
to regret the one you leave behind.”

It was dark when Mrs. Charlton returned.
She came up-stairs at once, looking both pleased
and relieved.

“ I have succeeded even beyond my expecta-
tions, dear,” she said. “After some inquiries,
an old friend referred me to a lady who is de-
sirous of securing some agreeable young person
‘for a companion. Of course I hastened to call
upon her, and the result is that she has agreed
to take you upon trial. You can go to-mor-
row.

Neria’s heart beat a. little quicker. Ah, if she
had but known!

“What is the lady’s name?” she inquired, af-
ter a brief pause.

“ Mrs. Gerald Atherton.”

It awakened no familiar chord in Neria’s
mind——she had never heard it before.

“Mrs. Atherton is somewhat of an invalid,”
Mrs. Charlton explained. “She has been mare
ried some months, but her health began to fail
It is my opinion that she has con-
sumption. She has given up society on account
of her health and her husband is away on some
mission or ot er in Europe. She leads a lonely
life of it, with only servants n the house. She
wishes some one who will prove a pleasant
companion, and help enliven the hours of lone-
finess.”
“ Did she think I would suit her?"

“Very well indeed. You are just the sort of
person she was wishing to secure.”

Of oeurse Neria did not dream of declining
the. situation.

, that Mrs. Atherton would prove a very de-

sirable person to be with, and there was noth-

Angjmore required.

the next morning she set out on her

arly
Mrs. Charlton embraced and

short Journey.

and yet of course Mrs. Charlton had recom-
mended her as “ Miss Perdy.” '

“ You may tell Mrs. Atherton it is the young
person who has come to be her companion,” she
said, at length.

The servant bowed, and departed. Neria
sunk into one of the luxurious chairs, a strange
feeling of nervousness that almost amounted to
fear coming over her. It seemed, oddly
enough, as though a crisis in her life were at

an .
Presently the soft rustle of a woman’s gar-

, ments struck upon her ears. Neria was sitting
‘ with her head cast dejectedly down, but she

 

raised it. A lady, tall, graceful and elegantly
dressed, was coming t0ward her with out-
stretched hands. Neria gave a violent start,
then sprung to her feet.

“ Edna I” she gasped, her hoarse voice betray-
ing surprise, dread and incredulity.

Mrs. Atherton took a step nearer. For one
moment she stood transfixed, as though sudden-
ly turned to stone. Finally a suppressed cry
broke from her trembling lips.

“ My sister! Is it possible that I have found
you at last?”

And the two so long separated, but now
strangely reunited, rushed into each other’s
arms.

 

CHAPTER XIII.

OF ONE RACE.

SOME time elapsed before Neria or Mrs.
Atherton could rally from the shock of this un-
expected meeting. There were many kisses,
tears and loving embraces before at last they
became a little more composed.

Mrs. Atherton finally threw herself on a low
stool at N eria’s feet. her rich dress trailing the
carpet unhceded. She was a very attractive-
looking woman, with a fair, high-bred face,
lovely blue eyes, and abundant blonde hair.
Just now her usually pale cheeks were deli-
cately flushed with the hectic of excitement.

She had taken both Neria’s hands in her own,
and while clinging to them. was looking up into
the girl’s face with a gaze full of tenderness and

; eager curiosity.

Mrs. Charlton had assured her E

“How strange it seems that my hired com-

‘ panion should‘prove to be my own sister,” she
‘

exclaimed. can scarcel realize the fact
even yet. Tell me howit. appens that you.
were reduced to the extremity of seekmg such
a position.”

A MAN’S sax. ‘ 19"

 

“ What else could I do? I was friendless and penni-
less when I left my father’s house.”

“ Oh, why did you ever go away i”

Nerita dropped her eyes with a look of gentle re-

roac .
p “ Would you have wished me to remain, and wed
the man papa had selected for my husband, know-
ing as I did that I should always dislike him?"

“ Perhaps you acted wisely. But \vh y did you nev-
er come back. or even write to us?"

“ It was my intention to cut enirely loose from
the old life,” Neria answered.

“ You were always a little headstrong, Neelie."

Neria started at the sound of the familar pet name.
It was one by which il~’l‘ sister had always address-
ed her. What an eternity had passed since she last
heard it.

It was Mrs. Atherton who broke the brief silence
that fell between them.

“ What changes have occurred since you left us,”
she exclaimed. “ I was living in Washington then,
and had no idea. what my future would be. P? pa al~
ways urged me to marry a man of wealth and posi~
tion, however. and so I ave. You ar: not to infer
that I wedded Gerald for his money, though. It is
not true—I love him devotedly.”

N eria did not even see the slow flame that kindled
in her sister‘s eyes.

“Papa?” she gasped. “I have heard nothing of
him in all these years. Nothing!"

Mrs. Atherton’s face took on a sad expression.

“ Prepare yourself for bad news,” she said. “Poor
papa is dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yes. He died more than a year since. But his
last words were of you, expressing a desire for our
forgiveness. He. felt that he had been severe an un-
just in his dealings with you.”

Neria’s tears fell fast.

“ How sad.” she murmured. “ I was not permitted
to receive his dying blessing.”

“ There is more to tell," Mrs. Athcrton resumed.
“Do you remember having heard papa speak of a
very eccentric old lady, Mrs. Faunce,who was mam-
ma‘s aunt?”

l‘ Yes.‘ll

“ Sue is almost fabulously rich, and has no near
heirs to her immense fortune. Well.who should ap-
pear unexpectedly at papa’s funeral but this same
Mrs. Faunce. She resides here in New York, and
brought me home with her. Before a month capsed
she had formally adopted me.”

Neria's surprise an pleasure were very great.

“ You have been fortunate,” she gently said.

“But I never forgot you, Neelie,cven for a mo-
ment. After the change was effected I sought you
in are anxiously than ever, though Secretly. Aunt
Faunce became almost as much interested as myself
in t ie search. We left no means untried to find you.
But you had dropped the family name it ap-
pears. Mrs. Charlton called you ‘Miss Pu‘dy,’ I
believe—”

“ That was not the name I took at first.” Neria in-
terrupted. “ Of course I did not wish it known that
I was one of the Tliorntons, of Washington; there-
fore I took the name of Granger.”

“ What a dreadful life you must have led! But it
is all over and past. I have found you. and we
will never be separated again. I shall take care of

u.—

“ Wait,” said Neria, utting up her hand with an
expression of am. “ ake no rash promises. You.
nasty feel di erently when you have heard my
8 ory.

Mrs. Atherton looked surprised. A

“ I don’t know why_ I should. We are sisters, and
I would do anything in the world for vou. But pro-

.ceed with what you ham to say. Even the most

trifling’items in your experience will be of interest
me.
Neria knelt down beside her sister, and with her
face hidden on the latter’s shoulder told all the

 

story of her later years—how Lawrence Gordon had
met, married and then discarded her, wrecking life

.3

f -.

and pzace, and well nigh breaking her tortured: 

heart.

The horror with which Mrs. Atherton listened to
the tale can he better imagined than described.

“The wretch! the cowardly villain!” she exclaimg
ed. almost beside herself. “ How dared he so trifle
with a person of 'our birth and breeding? The
name Thornton of 1 self should have been sufllcient
to snield ou.”

“Recol ect. Lawrence never-knew it was mine,"
Neria answered, between h sterical sobs. “Some
whimsical feeling prevente me from telling him
until it was too late. It was only as, Neria Granger, .
the overness, that he knew me. ’ u

“ o matter. Wicked, been less villain! He must
have seen that you were a lady, despite. the menial
position you fil ed.”

Mrs. Aiherton rose, and walked up and down the
room in great excitement.

“ The facts connected with the marriage shall be
thoroug)hly investigated!” she exclaimed. " Who «
knows ut it was perfectly legal, despite that man’s
assertions to the contrary?”

Her emotion subsided after a little. she was able
to discuss the matter more quietly. Presently she
took Neria nil-stairs and showed her the preity
suit of rooms that had been fitted up for her own ,
use.

“My husband is very fond of mezthe surrounds
me With every luxury,” she said. " How unfortun-
ate that he should be away! He would know just
what to advise. Ah! it would kill me if he were to
abandon me as you have been abandoned.”

“ I believe it would.”

“But he is inca able of such baseness. You do
not know how kin'. and good he is. It was a great
trial for him to leave me even for a few weeks, to
go to Europe on a matter of business.”

. Neria made no reply She was mentally contrasto‘ ‘
ing her Sister’s happy lot with her own. '

‘_‘ I Will show you Gerald’s picture.” Mrs. Atherton
said, after a pause. "11; is the only one in my s-
seSSion Here it is on the mantle. I keep “3W ere
I can run at any time and 100 : at it.”

_Sne lifted it eagerly. and was coming forward to
display it when the bit of painte l ivory slipped
through her fingers and fell upon the glowing coals
in the grate. Instantly it was blackened and discol-
ored past recognition.

A cry of dismay broke from Mrs. Atherton’s lips.
tShe sunk upon a chair, bursting into hysterical

ears. I

"How careless of me! And I wanted so much
that you should see it! The accident almost seems
like an evil omen.”

 

CHAPTER XIV.
A SUDDEN ADOPTION.

Tm: morning hours slipped away unnoticed by the
reunited sisters. They had so much to say to each
other! There were a thousand questions to be ask-
ed. and as many more to be answer (1

e .
The abrupt ringing of the dinner-bell startled them

oth.

“80 late!” Mrs. Atherion exclaimed, looking at
her watch. “I had no idea how rapidly time was
flying. We must make haste to dress. Where are
your boxes?” .

“ Down-stairs.” Neria replied.
and brought it in the carriage with me. I _ .
Mrs. Atherton rung for a servant. and ordered the

box to be brought up. The instant it was unlocked
she drew out the poor. plain garments it contained,
tossing them disdainfully_a31de. one by one. ).. 7

“There is really nothing (it to put on. Idon‘t,
know how you could ever make up your mindto
wear such dreadful things, Neelie.” ‘ » _ .

“ They are the best I could afford.”

“ I haye but Vonea

’

‘ i

- .y.‘~

9"“:nu‘b-rs .__.. ..

 

a

A MAN’S SIN. .

,

 

“ Well, you shall never wear them again. I will
long you some of mine, until you can get an outfit
ma e.’

.Going to the wardrobe, she took down a plain blue
srlk thh trimmings of cream lace. Nena remon-
strated. Mrs. Atherton woul not hear to it, how-
ever.

“My husband’s mother is in the house—you will
meet her at dinner.” she said.

Under these circumstances Neria felt compelled to
yield. Once arrayed as her sister desired, she
scarcely knew her own reflection in the mirror, how-

* ever, but blushed and drew back.

“_Why, how beautiful you are!” Mrs. Atherton ex-
claimed, in accents of genuine pleasure and ap-
proval. “ Fine dress makes all the difference in the
world. I am quite plain beside you.”

Going down stairs they found the elder Mrs. Ather-
ton already seated at the dinner-table. She was a
handsome, well-preserved lady of fifty, with a some-
what haughty cast of countenance. Neria was
struck at once by something singularly familiar in
her looks.

“ This is my sister Neelie,” Edna said, not deem-
ing 1t.necessary to make an elaborate explanation.
“i think you have heard me speak of her, madam.
She has returned lute unexpectedly, and will re-
main with me in fu ure."

Mrs. Atherton merel bowed, but her countenance
ex ressed interest an curiosity.

‘, I know Edna is delighted to see on,” she said at
lewh, still scanning the girl’s ace attentively.
" on have been a long while separated?”

“ Very long,” Neria answered, just above her
breath.

She was inwardly trembling. Something in the
lady’s voice set every nerve n her being aquivcr.
Where and under what circumstances had she heard
it before?

Dinner ended. and'the problem still remained un-
solved, though it had perplexed her mind every mo-
ment of the time.

“ Did we ever meet Mrs. Atherton years ago, when
we livedrin Washington?” she inquired.

“ No.” was the answer.

“ Of whom, then does she remind me?"

“I cannot tell, I am sure. She has a look like
Gerald, only he is much the handsomer of the two.
But ou have never seen In husband, and it cannot
bet e likeness to him that im rc-sses you.”

v “ Of course not ” Neria rep ied, in a dreamy tone.

" I wish I knew who it could be.”

The next morning an unexpected visitor made
her appearance. It was no less a person than Mrs.
Faunce, the eat-aunt to whom Edna had once or
twice referr . She was a withered little woman of
seventy, with a wrinkled though not unpleasant face.

Bursting unceremoniously into the chamber where
the sisters were sitting. she stopped short with a
, muttered ejaculation of surprise, on seeing that
Edna was not alone.

“ Ehl Who is this? Seems to me I ought to know
that face. but I don’t. Edna, e‘. lighten me ”

The young wife came forward, flushing with pleas-

ure.

“ Look ain, dear aunt Faunce,” she said. "' It
is my long— ost sister. It is Neelie.”

“Neeliei” ejaculated the old lady; starting back
as though she had been shot. _

“ Yes. No wonder you are surprised. I could
scarcely believe the evidence of my senses. It is
like a romance. ‘1 was wish‘ng to hire a companion,
vou know, and Neelie came for the situation. She,
had no idea that Mrs. Atherton was her own sister!”

Mrs. Faunce was staring at the girl with an odd
twinkle in her bright. black eyes.
to.“ I: it true?" she uttered. “ Are you Neelie Thom-
n

“Yes. madam.”

“Ibegin to believe it. But what possessed you

to run awoav i"
L. “I woul rather not talk about it, if you please,”

.

 

Neria answered, a pathetic little quiver in her voice.
“ If I did wrong, I have been iufficiently unished.”

“ l’m glad you got your desert-s. But w ere have
you kept yoursel all these cars ?”

Neria turned her face asi e without replying.

_ "My poor sister has a very sad story to tell, Edna
interposed. "You must be very gentle with her,
aunt Faunce.”

“Gentle? Fiddlesticksl I shall treat her as she
deserves—no better, no worse. So,” again fixing
her gaze on the trembling girl, “ ou did not find
it so pleasant as you imagined flg ting the world
alone?”

" No. madam.”

“ Humph! Tell me all about it.”

Mrs. Fauncc threw herself into a chair, assuming
a listening attitude. But Neria could not speak at
once, she was so choked with emotion.

“Go on,” said the old lady impatiently.
like to be kept waiting.”

“ Let me tell her,” said Edna, gently drawing her
sister aside. “You are not equal to the task. I
know the outlines of the story, and you can add the
details some other time ”

In a few touching words Edna related the romance
of the poor wrecked life that had been bligl ted in
its early springtime. Mrs. Faunce listened silently
till the en .

" Bless mel” she cried, at last. “Whatqm expe-
rience for a chit of a girl like vou!”

Then. brushing one bony and across her eyes,
she added in a more determined tone:

“Dreadful! I never heard anything like it. So
that scamp married you. or )retended he did, then
ran away and left you to : hi t foryourself? I could
shake the villain! But we are not done with him
yet. We’ll hunt him down! I‘ll put every lawyer
ill New York on his track. The wretcli shall be pun-
ished, I promise you, for what he has made you
suffer.”

N cria’s beautiful face ew white with anguishz

"I have no desire or vengeance,” she said.
“What comfort could it bring me? All I ask is the
privilege of passing the remnant of my days in
peace and retirement.”

“The validity of the marriage shall be tested, at
all events. HaVe you a certificate?”

“ 1 had one. But he—Lawrence—took it away.”

Mrs. Faunce trembled with indignation.

"I am not surprised,” she cried. “The wretch
was too cunning to leave any proof behind. What
you say only confirms me in the opinion that the
marriage is valid.

Neria put her hand to her head—everything seem-
ed to be whirling around her. What if it should be
true? What if the dreadful disgrace that had cloud-
ed her life should be swept away?

“ Oh God. what a burden won (1 be lifted from my
aching heart!” she thought. a

“ Leave me to manage this business for you,” Mrs.
Faunce resumed. a red s 0t burning in either cheek.
“ I know how to deal wit cowards and miscreants.
Justice shall be done. All I require is a few names
and dates, and a m scription of the place where the
ceremony was performed. I shall consult with my
confidential lawyer before I sleep. We Will prove
the marriage valid, then shake our fists in the young
man’s face. He may go his own way afterward,
and we will go ours.” .

For along time afterward Mrs. Faunce sat With-
out speaking She was evidently revolving some
problem in her mind. The girl’s sad hiatory and
forlorn situation had touched her heart, and She
was not one whose sympathies were ever enlisted in
vain.

“Edna,” she said, abruptly, turning to Mrs. Athrr-
ten, “1 have something to aropose. You are mar-
ried to a rich husband who oves you devigtt'OIY- NP
wish of, your heart need remain ungratiflcd. Is it
not so?’ , ,

“Yes,” the young wife answered, opening her
beautiful blue eyes wide with surprise.

“I never

A MAN’S SIN.

. p

 

“You are sufficiently rich in this world’s goods
without taking anything 1 may have to give? And
goor Neria has Bottling. She is literally abeggar.

ow I am coming to the point at issue. I have al-
ready acknowledged you as my heiress. How would
it please you to step down and out of the position
that your: ister may occupy it in your stead ‘3”

A moment’s silence followed the question. Edna
was not a Selfish person, howuver, and she said
neartily:

"I should like it above all things aunt Faunce.
My sister needs your money, and i do not. By all
m xans make her your lll‘lI‘CSS. I ho c you will."

Neria began to remonstrate, but t 10 old lady re-
fused to listen.

"The matter is settled," she said. in a tone of de-
cision. “ We understand our mutual positions with-
out further words. I shall remember you hand—
somely in my will, Edna, but the bulk of my fortune
will go to this homeless and friendless child. Here-
after she shall be as a da'ughter to me.”

Mrs. Faunce laid her hand caressingly on Neria’s
bowed head, tears filling her stern old‘eycs.

"I trust we shall him to love each other very
dearly,” she added. “I know I can love you if you
will only let me.”

 

CIIAP FER XV.
THE LULL harem: THE TEMPEST.

Nsnu could scarcely realize the fact of the change
in her circumstances. It seemed like a dream.

Nearly all her thoughts, however, centered upon
the one question of the validity of the marriage
ceremony that had been performed a year before in
one of the little out-of-the-way churches of N cw
Orleans.

Mrs. Faunce’s decisive word's had restored hope
to her ies ondent heart. Might it not be possible,
after all. t at Lawrence had deceived her, and she
was his lawful wife in spite of his cruel denial?

“ Heaven grant it,” she thought.

Going down-stairs the next morning, after a. sleep-
less night, she foun i Edna poring over an open let-
tcr The young wife’s checks ware like roses, and
her eyes shone with subdued happiness.

“Good news,” she still, licking up with a smile
as Neria entered. “I. have a letter frotn my bus-
h Lil'i. He is coming home!"

" Very soon?”

“ He will be herein a week at the latest. I am al-
most wild with joy. Gerald is so brave, so noble, s.)
handsome! It would be impossible not to love
him."

"Have you written to tell him I am here?”

“Not yet; and now it is too late. He has, perhaps,
set out already on the return voyag 2. No matter.
It will be a pleasant surprise for him. ’

f‘ Of courie he knows that you have a. sister?"

Elna‘s bright face saddened a little.

“No.” she replied. “ He isa proud man, and has
peculiar notions of propriety. I could never quite
bring myself to tell him the story of your flitting.
It was not until recently that Mrs. Atherton knew
anything of it."

The efder Mrs. Atherton entered at this instant.
The three repaired to the breakfast-room together.

Later in the day Edna ordered the carriage. So
much shopping must necessarily be done to equip
N aria for her changed position, it was deemed best
lo begin at one".

They had gone the rounds of the leading shops.
and purchased any amount of costly silks and laces
—~whatever Edna admired, for Neria scarcely felt or
expressed a wish in the matter.

At last their faces were turned toward home.
There was but one more call to make—at a. fashion-
able dressmaker’s where Edna had some orders to
leave. While this was being done. Neria remained
outside, sitting in the carriage. She was gazinz
listlessly down the street when some one crossed

from the other side.
It was Gilbert Brandon. Neria’s pulses throbbed.

 

deliriously as she watched him approach. His pale,

handsome face wore an expression of surprise as he 7

noticed her changed ap carance. ‘ 

"I thought I recognized you,” he said, uietly,
“and con (1 not go by without speaking. on. are
lookin better and happier than when I saw you
ast.’

She laid her hand in his outstretched )alm. .

."I have strange news to impart. i r. Brandon,
something that will surprise you very much.”

“ Does it concern your—yourw” ,‘

“ 1; concerns my riends, those from w‘hom I have
been so long separated,” she hastily interrupted._
" I have found my sister.” . '

“ Tint is good news, indeed." '

Briefly she related what had occurred. Mr. Bram,
don listened with eager interest. He made no at-
tempt to conceal his pleasure that Neria. had found
two such protectors as Mrs. Atherton and Mrs.
Faunce. ,

“ I have pondered deeply on your sad story since
you went away,” he said, in a low voice, “and the
desire to be of service to you has been very strong
in my heart. But for this accidental meeting 'I shoul
have sought on out. Your wrongs should be re-
dressed. I might be able to do something—”

He paused, looking at her with wistful rplexity.
(Elie subject was a very delicate one, an so he tell:
i .

“You are very kind,“ Neria said gentlyi “ But
there is no nee to trouble you. ynewly-found
relatives will do all that is necessary.’

“ I am glad to hear it."

He held her hand a moment longer in his clasp,
then sighingly released it and departed.

He had scarcely gone when Edna came down the
ste s. N eria noticed with a sudden pang how tired
an haggard her sister looked. A spat of hectic
burned in either cheek, her eyes were feverishly,

blight. and she held one hand to her side. panting 

slightly, while resuming her seat in the carriage.
“Are you ill?” Neria inquired. '
“ Only a little tired,” was the answer.
so strong as I was once.”
“ You should call in medical advice."
“There is no necessity. But for the pain in my
side and chest, and the cough I have, I should be
perfectly well.”
Neria gave a frightened start. v
“ Do you have a. cough? Why did .you not speak
of it before?" ;
“ It only troubles me at night. Don’t look so ter-
ror-stricken, dear. I have no ailment worth mind-

in .” .
fidna laughed carelessly as she spoke. Neria could ,'
not get over the shock of her changed looks undo!
the revelation that had been made. however. ‘She
thou lit of nothing else during thehomeward drive,
“ ligy mother died of consumglion,” she said to
herself. “ How terrible it woul be for Edna to go
in the same way.” _ .

She mentally resolved to consult With Mrs. Faunce
at once, and see what could be done to persuade her
sister to call in a physician.

Nearly a Week went by before Mrs. Faunce reap.
peered, however. ’ The sisters were sitting alone,
one morning, when she suddenly burst into the room
in her characteristic way. .

“ I bring good news at last." she cried. runni up,
to Neria. and kissing her on the forehead. “‘
is what I have been waiting for. A letter came last
night from the agent my lawyer sent to New or.
leans. He found the chapel easy enough, and now
he has stumbledypon the very man who performed “
the ceremon ~—

She paused: for N eria. had fallen back in the chair.
pale and faint.

“ Go on," gasped the wretched girl.

“Then you must try tobear it a. little better. It _
is a sad case. child. but that wretch will get the

.1; f’t. ' e—-”
WW 0 1 :grieked Nona.

“I am not"

The marri
“Is it valid?” almost

 

22

A MAN’S SIN.

 

“ As much so as the laws of the land can make it,”
Mrs. Faunce answered.

The oor girl sat as if stunned.

“Tell me how that could be,” she faintly articu-
lated at last.

“ It appears that the scamp, Gordon. resorted to a
ruse that other wretches like him have used in simi-
lar cases. He hired a reckless devil to personate the
priest. The tool proved a trifle less vile than his
employers, however. His heart misgave him before
thei hour appointed for the ceremony arrived,
an —

“ What did he do?”

“ Called in a bond/$.70 priest at the last moment,
and a legal marriage was performed 2”

“ Thank God!" ‘

Neria’s heart beat almost audibly for a few mo-
ments. She was a wife—there was no longer any
reason to blush, or hide her head in shame.

“There is but little more to tell," Mrs. Faunce
resumed. “ Nothing can be more Certain than that
a valid marriage was solemnized. You are the law-
ful wife of that unworthy scamp. The fact must be
published to the world, my dear. then we will pr0<
cure adivorce as quickly as possible. But enough
of that. What I set out to to 1 you was that Law—
rence Gordon did not marry you under his true
name.”

Neria sat speechless, but her eyes were fastened
on Mrs. Faunce’s face, and in a look that demanded
everything.

“My agent did not discover his true name,” the
old lady continued; “but he is on the track, and
hopesto do so in the course of aday or two.”

Still Neria uttered no vord in response. The
power of speech seemed suddenly denied her. She
wanted to be alone—t0 gain lime. to realize whntthe
revelation she had heard meant to her. Silently
motioning her sister and Mrs. Faunee to leave the
room she buried her fac.; in her hands, and sat
thrs or hours.

At length the door opened. and Edna. entered
hastily. She brought in a telegraphic dispatch that
had just been received.

“I, too, have heard ble8sed news.” she cried. ex-
citrdly. “The steamer is already in the harbor.
"Gerald, my husband, will he with me in an hour.”

 

CHAPTER XVI.
'rnn s'roum nuas'rs.

No sixty minutes had ever set-med so long to Edna
Atnerton as those following the receipt of the dis-
patch announcing the coming of her husband. She
could not remain quiet anywhere for two consecu-
tive minutes.

She attired herself in a cream-colored silk placing
white rosebuds and heliotro e blossoms in 101‘ hair.
It was a costume that Ger (1 greatly admired and
liked to see her wear.

And inexpressibly love] did she appear, a soft
color lowing in her chee rs, and her eyes shining
witht 6 happy light of love and joyous anticipa-

tion.

When all was in readiness, she re-enteredNeria’s
chamber for a few last moments. “ Don’t think me
selfish for manifesting my happiness so Openlv.”
she murmured, throwing her arms about N eria’s
neck. “My heart is singing for joy. I could not
kee it to myself if I tried."

" hy should you?” Neria gently answered. “ Do
not let my troubles sadden this blissful hour. For-
get them. I will reioice with you if I can.”

Edna breathed shalt-suppressed sigh.

“ You will love Gerald too, when you know him."

“Don‘t tell him my story at once,” Neria said,
with a- sudden shudder. “The first hours of his
coming home must not be saddened with it."

“ Oh yes,” Edna answered in a soothing tone. “I
will only say to him that my darling sister Neelie has
returned. Of course he will be Very much surprised,

 

bill) I can put him off with a few words of explan-
a icn.’

She started up and began to walk nervously back-
ward and forward in the room.

“ Of course I must have him to myself for a little
while. He has been away so long! it is only a few
{rocks to be sure, but it seems like as many years.

She broke off abruptly, and pressed her hand upon
her heart. At that moment there came the sound of
carriage-wheels on the drive below.

“ He is here l” she exclaimed, growing almost faint.
with joy and excitement.

Edna instantly left the room. ~Neria heard'hcr
fleet step on the stairs. the bolts of the door shot
back, then a suppressed cry of rapture. That was
all, for she ran into her dressing-room and shut her-
self in. The thought of her sister’s happiness turned
her sick.

More than an hour wore on. At last some one
knocked for admittance. It was Edna‘s maid.

“ My mastrr and mistress are in the drawing-
room,” the girl said. "Mrs. Atherton has sent for

ion. She would like to introduce you to her hus-
ant . ’ .

N"i'ia arose and began hastily to arrange her dis-
ordered dress.

"Tell my Sister that I will come down at once,"
she said.

She felt more unnerved than ever now that the
moment had core. At the drawing-room door,
which stood slightly ajar. she paused a moment.
Edna was speaking, and every word reached her
ears distinctly.

“I know you will not scold me, Gerald, fer nevrr
having spoken of my sister Neelie before. She left
home under peculiar circumstances ' going out as a
common governess. No Thornton iad ever before
done anything of the sort. I am both proud and
s- nsitive, and could never hear to speak of the cir-
cumstances to you— ”

“It is of no consequence," came the answer, as
she hesitated for an instant». “I understand your
feelings. darling, and shall think no lt ss of you for
any; inadiscretion of which ycur sister has been
gut ty. ’

At the first tone of that voice Neria started, her
face grew ashy white, and she pressed her hands
tightly uBon her heart. Great God! What did it
mean? id her ears deceive her. or had she all at
once gone mad?

Pantlng, bewildered, sick with terror. she made a
desperate effort. and finally succeeded in dragging
her benumbed limbs forwards. few steps so that she
could see into the drawing-room through the crev—
ice in the half-shu door.

Gerald Atherton stood directly in the range of her
vision, one arm lovingly encircling Edna‘s waist.

“My God! Lawrt nce Gordon!”

The stifl’ening lips could scarcely frame the words.
They were uttered in so low atone that the two
within the room heard no sound.

Neria comprehended all at once. He who had won
her love under a false name, and nearly broken her
heart by his infamous treatment, was Gerald Ather—
ton, the husband of her own sisterl
f '1I‘he discovery almost killed her.

u l

She never knew how she succeeded in dragging
herself back to her chamber. She felt bemldered,
and more than l‘alf-suffocat-ed. There was a ring-
inar in her ears. and everything seemed to be whirl—
insr around her.

Edna, waiting below for her sister to appear. grew
impatient at last and went in search of her.

Just as her foot touched the stair. she heard tie
sound of something falling overhead. Full of am;-
ious forebodings, she ran hastily to her Sister 5
chamber

The sizht that met her startled gaze brought a
shriek of terror to her lips. Extended on the floor
lay poor Neria, pallid and still as death,

It was dread-

 

‘A MAN’S SIN. ‘ 23

 

CHAPTER XVII.
A WOMAN’S nnsriun.

EDNA raised no alarm. Some feeling for which
she would have been unable to account. made her
solicitous to conceal from everybody the fact of - her
sister’s sudden illness. Locking the door she suc-
ceeded. with some difiiculty, in draggingr Neria to
the sofa, then hastily applied such restoratives as
were at hand.

Some moments elapsed before the wretched girl
ogeued her eyes. She sat up, and after looking
a out the room in a bewildered way, pressed her
hands to her temples.

“ It was no dream," she said.

Edna drew near, trembling and unnerved. “ What
is the matter? Why (lid you fai it? ’ she inquired.

Neria pushed away her clinging hands with a
shudder.

“I cannot tell~you,”she answered. “I can not.
Something dreadful has happened to me. Go away
for a little while. Giv \, me time to think it over."

Elna looked puzzled and troubled, but it would
have been cruel to refuse compliance with that
urgent request.

Left alone, Neriatricd to think calmly of the dis-
covery she had made She felt numb and bewil-
dered, like one suddenly awakened from a frightful
dream. The reality seemed too horrible for belief.
The man she had loved was under that very roof, the
husband of her own sister!

“ Lost. lost to me, forever,” sh»
“Farewell, hope——farewcll, happiness!
end.”

Suddenly she struck her hand against her fore-
head. Was it thy end? The facts connected with
her unfortunate marriage had been investigated!
The lawyer’s agent had pronounced it valid. By
every right, legal and divine, Gerald Atherton was
lmr husband, and not Edna’s! All she had to do was
to claim him as such.

“No, no, no!” she moaned. “I can do not-hing
so cruel. Elna loves him even better than I did
lvfore the knowledge of h s u‘nvorthiness came
home to me. She must not be made to suffer asl
have done."

The minutes wore on. It was one of those terri-
ble crises that come sometimes—not often—in the
lives of mortals. No matter wnat step she took
next—it would tell for time and eternity.

OVer an *1 over again she rehearsad all he circum-
stances of the case. If the lawyer’s agent had told
the truth, she could tak> her place in the world as
Mrs. Atherto '1, without a blot upon her name.

But—Ednai
1 It was the thought of her sister that unnerved
ier.

“ She is not strong—it would prove her death-blow
if the truth were to be suddenly revealed to her,”
Neria thought. “ I cannot sacrifice. mv own sister—
I cannotl She must never, new-r know.”

Edna again made her way to the chamber above,
hoping to find Neria uite recovered. A disappoint-
ment awaited her. he wretched girl was still re-
clining on the sofa, looking very languid and weak,
though her face was flushed, and her eyes glittercd
with fever. ,

“I hope you are not going to be really ill," Elna
said, as she bent abovn her.

Neria gave a gas of dismay.

“Ill? Oh, nOl can’t—J won’t be ill. It would
never do.” _

Gerald and I have been speaking of you," Edna
resumed, after a brief pause.

“ Of me? Heavens! what have you told him?"

“Nothing, (1 an I" was no time to enter into
explanations. But he is Very desirous of seeing
vou, though it should onlv h for a mommt. May
I bring him up here, snic'yozi are unable to go
down?” I

Neria started to her feet, fairly panting with ter.

murmured.
This is the

or.
“No, no! It must not be,"

 

“ Of course you must have your own way," Edna
said, wondering at the refusal, and her strange ex-
citement. “ But you and Gerald are certa ntovbe
good friends. You will find him an a .eeable com-
panion. I feel impatient to introduce .lm to you.”

Neria drew a deep breath when her Sister had left
the room. “ This must not go on much longer," she
thought. “I am not able to endure 11:. I must go
from here as quickly as possible.” _

Her hat and shawl hung inuthe little dressing-
room near by.

rem sheer exhaustion.

“Heaven help me," moaned the poor soul. “I
am weaker than I thought.”

Night soon fell. She welcomed it gladly. It would
be so much easier to slip away in the darkness. All
that she lacked was the strength to (go. Ringing the
bell, at length, she said to the mai who answered
the summons: _

“Bring me a glass of wine. I am 111, and have
need of it." >

When the stimulant came, Neria drained it to the
dregs. The wine gave her what she needed afic-
titious strength: but it would not last long. Plastin
dressing herself in traveling attire, she stole forth
without even tarrying to gather up a single trinket.

The gas was turned low in the hall—she stole
down-stairs with a throbbing heart. The low mur-
mur of a voice that she remembered only too well
came from the drawing‘room. Gerald and Edna
were there. Neria scarcely breathed as she flitted
past.

She made a dash for the hall door, gained it, and
almost before realizing the extent of the eflort
guide, she felt the Cold outer air strike across her

£1.08.

er plans were already formed. Hurrylng on
breathiessly until she gained a street where car-
riages were passing and repassing, Neria hailed an
empty cab, and drove at once to the residence of
Mrs. Faunce.

The servant who let her in stared a little, but she '

pushed hastily past, afraid that strength might sud-
denly give way.

“Take me to my aunt,” she said. “Don't stop
for any announcement. Let us go at once.”

The startled girl led the way Lip-stairs, and point-
ed to a closed door. “ My mistress is in there,” she
said. “You c in enter.”

Neria went swiftly into the room. A tiny fire
smoldered in the grate, and Mrs. Faunce sat in an
easy-chair beside it. A low ejaculation of surprise
fell from her lips as she recognized theintruder.

“Why, Neria, child, is it you? What bnngs you
here at this hour of the night?”

Then, catching sight of the girl’s haggard face,
she rose abruptly, and held out her arms.

“ S nnething dreadful has happened to you, I fear. _

What is it?"

Neria threw herself upon that motherly bosom,
bursting into a perfect paroxvsm of weeping.

“Don’t ask me,” she panted.
to tell you what Ir suffer. Take me in~give me
shelter. I have no one now in all the wide world
save you.”

Mrs. Faunce drew the sobbing girl close to her
heart.

“ You have come to the right place. dear," was all
that she said.

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
SELF-SACRIFICE.
‘ Tm: night dragged its slow length along, but even

when the next morning broke. Neria had not roused V

herself sufficiently to offer any explanation.

At ten o’clock a quick, impatient ring came at the
bell. Neria started up with a. shudder.

“ It is Edna,” she exclaimed. “Don’t let he;
come here. I have no wish to see her again,” _

She attempted to cross the floor to '
rocure them, but was compelled to SlnletO a chair «

“I have no courage '

 

24 A MAN’S SIN.

 

Mrs. Faunce looked curiously at the agitated girl.
' She could not even conjecture what had come be-
tween the sisters.

“Calm yourself.” she said. “You shall see no
one that you wish to have kept away.”

A servant entered with a message. “ Some one to
see you, madam,” he said, addressing Mrs. Faunce.
“ He told me to say that he came in reference to
that New Orleans business—”

Neria understood, and started up eagerly. New
revelations had, perhaps, come to lig t. If her
secret was to be he t, the time had come for action.

“Aunt Faunce, et me see this man,” she im-
plored. .I can conjecture why he is here. It is a
matter that concerns me more than anybody else in
the world. Suffer me to go down alone and hear
what your agent has to say.”

Mrs. Faunce started. Was the girl taking leave of
her senses?

“ You are unequal to such an interview, my dear,"

she objected.

“ I am stronger than you think. Do not crass me
in this. There is more at stake than you imagine.
Forgive me for kee ing anything back. It is un-

‘ fii‘ateful when you iave been so kind, so helpful.
ut there is no other way. See what I suiferl It is
almost a‘. matter of life or death with me. You have
not the heart to refuse. I am going, and alone! It
must be so.”

She had almost reached the door by this time. Mrs.

Faunce hesitated, but only for an instant.

“ Be it as on will,” she said, breathing a heavy
sigh. “ Go knows I have only your best interests
at heart.”

Neria had regained her self-control when she
reached the drawing—room door. A man came quick-
ly forward as she entered.

“ It was Mrs. Faunce for whom I asked,” he
\ said, an expression of surprise flitting over his face.

“ You can speak freely,” Neria replied. “ This at"-
fair concerns me more than anybody else. I am here
with m great-aunt’s knowledge and consent.”

hsu den light seemed to break upon the man‘s
min .

“ You are not the poor lady who has been so woe-
ful] deceived?” he stammered.

“ am Mrs. Lawrence Gordon.” She drew her
hand across her forehead. and went on rapidly, as
though fearful that her strength might give way:

“ We Will make this interview a brief one, if you
please. I have only to exact a promise from you.
" Of course you are here because on succeeded in the
mission to New Orleans, an have learned the
true name and position of the man I married in that
cit Y” »

‘yYes ” he replied, looking at her with wondering
eyes. ‘ 1 know everything.”

“ So do I,” Neria answered calml r.

'l'hen dropping her hand upon his arm, she added,
in a low, impressive tone:

“Now for the promise to which I referred. The
secret you have discovered must remain forever
locked within your own breast. I would rather die
than have MrstFaunce or the world know that Law-
rence Gordon and Gerald Atherton are one and the
same! Swear to me—you must—that the fact shall
never be divulged by your lips! Nothing less wrll
satisfy me. Swear it! ’

He, hesitated. “ Something is due my employ-
er—‘ '

“Mrs. Faunce is good and kind,” Neria interrupt-
ed. “She will respect my wishes in this matter. It
was solely for my sake that you were sent on this
mission at all. No one has a right to deny me the

rivilege of suppressing the facts t" at have come to
fight, andthey must be suppressed."

The man appeared more astonished than ever.

“ Of course I must yield." he said reluctantly.
“But forgive me for saying so. madam—you are
standing very much in your own light.”

Neria rose with a gesture of utter weariness, She
could not have held out much longer.

 

“ I have weighed the matter well, and this is the
onl course I could bring myself to ursue.”

S e felt as though a great load ad been lifted
from her heart when he was gone. Edna, her beau-
tiful, proud sister, must be saved at all hazards. She
should never know the. horrible truth—that it was
her life upon which this crushing load of shame and
sorrow had fallen.

The opening of the door aroused her from the
reverie into which she has". fallen. Mrs. Faunce
came forward, looking troubled and anxious, and
drew up a chair beside her.

“I expect you to tell me everything, child,” said
the old woman. “I am your best friend—what did
my agent have to say to you?”

‘ He had succeeded in his mission. That is all I
can tell you. Suffer me to keep my little secret (I: m'
aunt Faunce. Were it not wisest and best. I should
never dream of concealing anything. Only trust
me.’

Unable to withstand such pleading, Mrs. Faunce
COlild only sit and glare half-fiercely at the young
gia' .

“ This is incomprehensible,” she exclaimed. “ At
the very moment when the way is paved to have
ample, justice done, you turn about and forbid me to
take another step} Well, I must submit until you
come to your senses again, I suppose. I do it very
reluctantly, however.”

An hour or two later, a close carriage rolled u to
the door. Neria hastened to the window and loo ed
out. She saw her sister alight. leaning lovingly upon
Gerald’s arm. Oh. how her heart ached at the sight!
It was 71%? iightful place—one that she might claim
at any moment she felt so disposed.

She had barely lime to lock the door before Edna’s
clear. swvet voice became audible in the hall.

“Where is Neria? Is she here? It gave me a
dreadful start when I discovered that she had gone

p away in the night.”

The low murmur of Mrs. Faunce’s voice came in
response.

“ Yes, Neria is not herself. Trouble hasunsettled
her reason I fear. She came to me for sheli er and
comfort. oor fling, she is resting now, and must
not be disturbed.”

“ Oh, let me see her, if only fora moment,” plead-
ed Mrs. Atherton.

But Mrs. Faunce rcmained‘flrm.

“ Another time, my dear. Neiia is under my care
just at present, and shall not be annoyed.” -

The unha py girl heard no more. Throwing her-
self into a c iair, as far away from the door as possi<
ble, she buried her face upon her arms. That sorely-
tried heart had well-nigh given way.

CHAPTER XIX.
AWAKING mom A DREAM.

IT was not without a vague foreboding of some
terrible calamity that Edna Atherton left Mrs.
Faunce’s house after the unsuccessful attempt to
gain an interview With her sister.

There was something mysterious and suspicious
about the whole affair.

The instant they reached home, and found them-
selves alone in the pleasant back parlor where they
preferred to sit, she made up her mind to tell Gerald
everything. It was he himself, who, wholly uncon-
scious of what was coming, prepared the way for
the disclosure. ' . _

“How grave and silent you are, darling,” he said.
“Forgive me for saying so, but you are troublmg
yourself too much over your sister’s whimsical con-
duct in leaving the house so abruptly. I’m afraid
she does not deserve the solicitude you waste upon
her.”

Edna leaned her head against his shoulder, and
the tears she had vainly tried to suppress, burst

orth. v
“ Don't say that," she cried. “You do not know
my darling Neelie.”

“She does not appear very anxious to make my

 

 

‘ subj ec

A MAN’S SIN.

.45"

 

acquaintance, or she would not avoid me so persis-
tently," he dryly answered.

“ My poor sister has sufllered much, Gerald. Never
was an innocent girl more foully wronged.”

Gerald felt the blood come into his cheeks.
Wrongedl He was a proud man, and did not like
that word spoken in connection with his wife’s sis-
ter.

“What do you mean?” he demanded.

“ Let me tell you Neria's stor ,” Edna said, gent-
ly. “Then you will understan —”

The name she had spoken fell on his cars like a
clap of thunder from a clear sky.

" Nerial” he interrupted, in a strange voice.

“ That is my sister‘s real name. But she was al-
ways called Neelie at home' I call her so still.”

He put out his trembling hand. A faint suspicion
of the truth had dawned upon his mind, filling it
with horror unutterable.

“ Tell me the story,” he panted. “At once.”

Edna did not observe the convulsive shudder that
ran through her husband’s frame, but began in a
low voice to give the outlines of Neria’s pathetic
history.

Before it was half finished, Gerald had pushed her
from him almost roughly, risen to his feet, and was
pacing the floor with hurried, uneven strides.

“ I am not surprised to see you so moved,” Edna
paused to say, happily unconscious of the real cause
of his emotion. »‘ felt very indignant myself. It
is hard to believe that such cowardly villains as this
Lawrence Gordon really exist!"

“ F' iish tho recital,” Gerald exclaimed, turning
round and glaring fiercely at his wife. “ I am anx-
ious to be done with it.”

His mind wandered in a wild chaos. The shock
came so suddenly and unexpectedly he had almost
betrayed himself.

“Aunt Faunce has taken a deep interest in my
sister," Edna continued, “ and will do everything in
her power to ri ht her wrongs. She has already de-
cided to adopt eria, and leave the bulk of her large
fortune to her, rather than to me, who do not need
it. ’

Gerald felt like breaking into a volley of curses.
How surely his sins were finding him out! It was
the wealth Edna expected to inherit that had in-
duced him to make her his wife.

“The most singular part of the story remains to
be told ” Edna resumed, in blissful unconsciousness
of the ull significance of her words. “YO‘l know
what a resolute woman aunt Faunce is. Well, she
made up her mind at once that justice should be
done my poor sister. and sent an agent to New
Orleans, where the marriage was solemnized, that
the affair might be fully investigated.”

Gerald clung to the back of a chair, feeling him-
self turn sick with dread and apprehension.

- “ With what result?” he stammered.

“ Every effort is being made to learn the true
name 0 the wretch. for. of course, that of Law-
rence Gordon was assumed to hide his real identity.
But that is not what I set out to tell you. It is of
the. marriage I wish to speak.” “

“ What of that?” he demanded, with sudden ap-
preliension.

“It appears that the wretch who intended to de-
ceive my sist"r With a false marriage was himself
deceived The tool he hired for his nefarious pur-
pose happened to be gifted with a conscience. A
real clergyman. instead of the impostor who was
exnected. perfOrmed the ceremony.”

Gerald staggered back a step, his forehead cover-
ed with heavy drops. He looked "so strange that
Edna was at once struck by his expre SiOD.

“ You are ill!” she exclaimed. “Why did you not
tell me so before?” ‘

She was hastening to his Slde, full of loving solici-
tude, but he waved her away.

"I don’t feel verv well,”_he stammered. “I had
better go up-stairs for awhile. We can resume this

some other time.”

‘. “-

 

He went out hastily, lockin himself into the
dressing-room above. Ahl how itterl’y at that mo-
ment he repented of his infamous conduct! Too
late. It was done, and could never be recalled. Now,
he had only to meet the consequences.

But what would they be? '

" I am ruined,” groaned the unhappywretch. “If
these facts come to light I can never raise my head
among honest people again.” ‘

He sat down, trying hard to see a way out of the
difficulty. But no light broke upon his troubled and
bewildered mind. Whichever way he turned, his
path was beset with difficulties. _

“ I am in Neria’s power,” he thought. “She can
crush me with a word. But will she do it?" -~

The fact that she had thus far remained silent af-
forded but scant encoura ement.

“ I’ll go to her,” he fina ly resolved. “ It willbean
ordeal to meet her face to face again, but I shall
know what to expect, and that will be better than to
endure this racking suspense.”

In spite of the mental anguish he suffered, Gerald

dressed himself very carefully before oing out. By.

this time night had fallen. His heart t rilled, almost
failing him as he strode past the door leading into
Edna’s chamber. What a wreck he had made 0 that
innocent young life.

1t was nine o’clock when he reached Mrs. Faunce's
residence. A strange girl answered his summons at
the bell. He had laid no plans how to gain access to
Neria’s presence, but intended to be guided by cir-
cumstances. He did not even know y what name
N eria was known in that household.

“ I wish to see the young lady who is stopping
here,” he said1 advancing a step.

“ Do you mean Miss Thornton?” inquired the girl,
looking at him askance.

“Yes, Miss Neria Thornton."

“ She is ill, and does not receive visitors. sir.”

“ But I must see her. It is very necessary that I
should. Show me to her room at once.” ‘

The girl drew back a step.

“It would be all my place is worth,” she stam-
mered. “We have positive orders. Miss Thornton
is to be denied to everybody.

Gerald studied the girl’s face attentively a inc--
ment, and saw that she would be susceptible to a
bi‘llfi‘l.

“Take this ” said he, dropping a gold piece in her
reluctantly extendel hand. “ You have only to in-

dicate the door. That is all Iwill ask. No One can- '

blame you for performing so trifling a serwce.”

She g1 ncerl at the gold piece with glittering egos.
“Take the third door to the left,” she said, a
whisper. and ran away trembling. _ . 1

Gerald fol owed the instructions given. Arrived
at the door in question, he paused a momentto
listen. No sound came from within, and at length
he ventured to raise the latch.

CHAPTER XX.
, THE TWO wrvns. /

N ERIA was alone in the room, sitting beside the
dying fire. She looked pale and worn, and traces of
tears were on her cheeks.

The opening of the door caused hertoturn her
head. She saw her recreant husband cross the
threshold, and advance into the room. She pressed
her hand to her side, and everythingseemed to whirl
for an instant.

“You!” she stammered, “ You!”

He went straight toward her With outstretched
hands, his .features fairly convulsed With emotion.
The sight of that stricken creature had melted his
heart, and changed his purpose in an instant. All
the old tenderness that he thought dead, had started
into sudden life again. .

“ My poor child.” he exclaimed, “ what-has change;

ed you so? Am I to blame for this?”

She started to her feet and drew back a step, look- '

in at him almost wildly.
E be not come any nearerf’ she panted. “ Why

M mums

 

26 ' A MAN’S SIN.

did you seek me here, to add another pang to my
wretched life? Had I not suffered enough already?”
"Forgive mel I have been a wretch, Neria, I
freely acknowledge it. Do not look upon me with
such horror in your lovely eyes. I am anxious to
make amends. Only give me the opportunity."

A shade of disdain crossed her face.

“Amends!” she repeated. "It is too late to talk
of that.”

He advanced still another step.

“I wish to atone. I will do anything that is rea-
sonable.” he said eagerly. “I came here tonight
thinking to bargain with you to keep our miserable
secret. Now that I have seen you my whole purpose
seems to be changed. Dictate whatever terms you
please—J am rea y to assent to them.”

“All I ask of you is to go away, where I may
never see your face again.”

Neria panted slightly, and a feeling of faintness
came over her.

But he was unabashed: “ Take a moment to con-
sider. I find that Ivou are dearer to my heart than I
ever imagined. T is meeting is like a revelation. I
am readyto give up everything. Everything. N eria!
Say the word, and we will leave the country to-mor-
row morning, never to return. It is the easiest—the
Only way out of the terrible complication in which
we have become involved. Say that you will 0.”

His voice was full of tenderness. He was ike a
lover pleading for the one priceless boon his heart
held most dear.

Neria put up her hand, still waving him away.

“ Have you no shame?” she Lreathed. " Think of
my poor sister. Where is our consideration for the
innocent girl you promise to love and cherish?”

A scarlet flush swept over his f‘:.ce. He had al-
.mostforgotten the poor wronged wife who was at
that very moment anxiously awaiting his coming in
her pretty boudoir.

“Edna shall never be tortured as I have bet-n!”
Neria exclaimed, with. sud en energy.
you. unworthy as you are. For her sake I have
spared you thus far and planned and plotted to keep
the secret of your identity. She would never survive
the knowledge of the truth. Go back to her, 0 at
once! Be to her the true, loving, devoted hus and
she thinks you, and I will try to forgive the bitter
wrong you have done me. My innocent sister must
be s ared at any sacrifice.” O

“ find you Y”

“ It matters little what becomes of me,” she cried.
miserably. “ My lot is heavy, but God will give me
strength to bear it.”

She was quite calm now, the calmness that intense
suffering sometimes gives. Gliding to the door, she
held it open for him to pass out.

“Farewell,” she said. “ Heaven grant that you
and I may never meet again."

Gerald hesitated a moment longer, looking at her
with love, anguish, dread and self-re roach all plain-
ly written in his face, and then slow y left the room
and the house.

It was midnight before he could make up his
mind to enter his own door. Late as was the hour,
Edna still sat up waiting for him. He attempted. to
steal cautiously past the boudoir, but those lovmg
ears caught and recognized his step. .

“ How late you are 1” she exclaimed, thmwmg
open the door and stealing into his arms with a
gentle kiss. “ Come in here. You must be cold
and tired. I had a warm cup of coffee brought up
for vou not ten minutes ago.”

He could do no less than follow her into the
coquettlsh little room. It was full of light and
warmth. and pretty things. Edna had drawn up an
easv-chair—his slippers and dressing-gown lay close
beside it. ,,

“ I am sorry you sat up,” he forced himself to say.
“ Don’t do it again ” \

“ It would have been impossible to sleep. The
evening has seemed long and lonesome with you

away.” .

“She loves ’

 

“a

She wheeled a small table up to the fire. and
placed a tray on it within reach of his hand. Ger-
ald sat for awhile with his eyes fixed steadily upon
her face. It wore a drawn, pinched look qui: e new
to him, and a hectic Spot burned in either cheek.

“ You have worn yourself out with watching,” he
said, feeling a keen pang of self-reproach. “Why
did you do it?”

“ Oh, I am not tired in the least.”

She sat down in the nearest chair. her face light-
ing u wi h the happy smiles his presence alwa s
calle forth. How pretty, innocent, and childli 6
she looked, with the soft firelight playing over her
graceful figure!

Suddenly clasping the slender hand that lay in her
lap, he said, in a voice that trembled visibly:

“ How would you bear it, Edna, if compelled to
give me up altosether?”

She lifted a startled glance to his face.

“Don’t speak of such a contingency,” she said,
with a shudder. “ We have been separated enough.
You must never, never leave me again!”

The repressed excitement with which she spoke
sent her into a violent fit of coughing. Gerald had
heard nothin like it before. Suddenly she pressed
her handkerc ief to her mouth, and a few drops of
crimson fell on her white dress.

“ What is that?” Gerald cried, in sudden terror.

“ Blood!”

Their eyes met for an instant. Hers were full of
pleading anguish. The wretched man fell back,
shocked and stunned. He seemed to rcalize at
once what was to be the end.

 

CHAPTER XXI.
FEDORA’S FATE.

A SURPRISE awaited Neria. She was sitting listless-
ly at the window the morning subsequent to Gerald’s
visit, when a sudden commotion in the street cans.
cd her to look out. A crowd had gathered about a
woman on the sidewalk, and two strange men were
trying to lift her into a carriage, despite the frantic
struggles made by the poor creature to escape.

Neria recognized her at a lance. It was Fedora
Brandon! For an instant sne sat spellbound with
surprise.

Of course, she could do no less than has'en to Fe-
dora’s rescue. Descending to the street. she laid her
hand on the arm of the man who stood nearest.

“What are you doing with that poor soul?” she
demanded.

“ Taking her to the as lum.” he replied. “ Don't
you see she is mad~ma as a March hare? It isn‘t
safe for her to be walking the streets.”

“ Has she no friends in this crowd?”

“Not one, miss. Nobod knows who she is, or
where she came from. O ‘ _
was staggering along. wringing her hands, talking to
herself, and gesticu ting. She looks about fagged
our, poor thing.”

"This lady is a friend of mine,” Neria said, has-
tily. “She seems to be very ill. I could not think
of'hnr being sent to any asylum. You can bring her
in here. I will see that those having charge of her
are notified at once.”

“Very well, miss.” .

Five minutes later, Fedora was lving on_ the couch
in Neria’s chamber. and the crowd had dis? sed.

The poor soul did not seem more than alf-con-
scious at first: but presently she unclosed her eyes
and fixed them in a iercing look on Nerta’s face.

“ Ah.” she cried. eebly, “ is it vouii I have nevet
forgotten that face, and never will. Gilbert though“
it far lovelier than mine. No wonder. I have never
been to him the wife he deserved. I could not be.
Whenever I tried. there was something here in my
head that set me all wrong, and hindered me from
succeeding.”

“Hush,” said Neria. “ Tell me why ’you were
wandering up and down the streets alone. ' I

“ It was my head again. It has done nothing bu.

en I first noticed her she ,

s
s
i
i

l

A MAN’S SIN. 

whirl and buzz for days together. Ithought it would
be better if I got away, and went where I pleased.”

“ Poor woman. Lie down and keep yourself quiet
foralittle. I am going to send a messenger for
your husband.”

“Do,” was the answer. “ I am too weak to go
back. I shoul l feel better if he were here.

Neria went out and dispatched a servant for Mr.
Brandon, and another for the neare: t physician. By
his lime, Mrs. Fannce had come down from her
chamber. She had already heard that a strange
woman was in the house, and seemed half-inclined
to be angry.

“ What is all this?” she exclaimed.

Neria. hastily explained. “I eoull not send Mrs.
Brandon away. Sne does not look strong enough to
bear even the short st journey.”

Mrs. Faunce was a woman of generous impulses,
and her brow cleared at once.

“ Well, we will do what we can for the poor soul.”

The physician was first to arrive. Aftera brief
examination he st‘pp id aside and gravely said:

“ The patient is very low. She cannot last through
the day. You had better send for her friends, if she
has any."

N eria’s heart beat with sudden fear. What if
Fedora should pass away before Mr. Brandon could
arrive?

A little past noon he dr0ve up to the door, accom-
pmied by Mrs. Charlton. His horses were covered
with foam and. dust. Hurrying up the steps. he
scarcely paused to gre t Neria, who met him at the
Elder, but entered the chamber where his wife was

ying.

“How is she?” be hoarsely in uired.

“ Be prepared for the worst, ’ said the physician,
who stood near. “ She is sinking fast. In an hour’s
time all will be over."

Neria saw him totter toward the bed, and fall on
his kn :es beside it Then she went out, followed by
th \ physician, and closed the door, leaving husband
and wire together. ,

Meanwhile, Mrs. Charlton waited in one of the
ante-rooms near by. her hand closely clasped in
lint of her young friend. A tear fell down her
face dnow and then, but on the whole she lookel re-
ilJVC—B .

“ It is better so,” she finally said; “ better for mv
brother. better for Fedora hers rlf. Gilb:rt has suf—
fared everything, endured everything.”

“ It will soon be OVer.”

“ She has been more than usually violent for some
days. I felt that the end was near. Early in the
evening the hired nurse fell asleep at her post, and
it was then that Fedora escaped. We did not kn nv
she was gone. un‘il long after daybreak. I can never
forgive the woman for her carelessness. Gilbert
had watched with her himself for many nights,
until he was quite won out. and I prevailed on him
to take a little resc. He was almost distracted when
he learned what had occurred.”

Mrs Charlton sat f0r a moment with her eyes
fixed upon the carpet, and then resumed:

‘- We have succeeded well in keeping Fedora hid-
den from the world. You are the only person out-
side me house who was aware of her existence. But
all will come out now; secrecy is no longer possible.
N) matter. _She Will soon be beyond the reach of
human Jus'lce, and I know that Heaven will deal
leniently with one like her "

“You once t ild me that Mrs. Brandon had been
guiltv of a great crime,” Neria said.

M "Yes. I cannot bear to speak of it. The storv is
m horrible one. The briefest outline must suffice,
‘It w IS after her baby was born that the first symp-
toms of insanity manifested themselves. We Were,
Spending the summer on the sea-shore One, day
Fe‘lora took her babe down to the beach, and carry.
mg it far out on the rocks, deliberatelv left. it the're
until the tide came in and swept it away.”

“ How horriblel”

a: “A party of fishermen were near enough to see

 

 

what she had done, but the child was dead before
they could reach it. Of course there was a great
excitement. My brother hurried Fedora away be-
fore an arrest could be made, and fortunately for
them the train on which they fled was wrecked.
You can divine the rest. eredora‘s name appeared
in the list of the killed. The stratagem was hardly
justifiable, perhaps. but Gilbert pitied his mad wife,
and wished to spare her all that was ossible.”

"She has been living at Cragnest al theSe years?"

“Yes. But it has been a terrible life for us all.
Wicked asit may appear, I can but.rejoicc that the
end approaches.”

Even as she spoke a low wailsounded from the
inner r0 111. She raised her head, and her eyes met
Neria’s for an instant. ~~

" All is ever," she said, in a solemn voice.

It was even so.

CHAPTER XXII.
A names or cuss.

MISFORTUNES never come singly. The morning
subsequent to Mrs. Brandon’s su den death, Neria
was sitting alone in her chamber when the maid
brought in a l'r-trer. It had been left at the door by
a messenger, and was addressed in Gerald Ather-
ton’s well-known hand.

Neria felt a f untness come over her as she recog-
nized the familiar writing.

The first impulse was to return the letter unread;
but curiosity and interest triumphed. Breaking the
seal, she read these words:

“ Edra is quite ill. and asks for you continually.
Your conduct in leaving‘the house so abruptly, and
persistentlv remaining aloof. perplexes and dis-
tresses her. She thinks of nothingelse. Her mind
is filled with vague conjeccures. She fears that
something has been done to offend you. Ientreat
you to ome to her, if only for an hour. It will be
an ordeal, but you can bear it. This letter is writ-
ten at her request, though, of course, she is lame-
rant of its wording. The poor child grieves about
you to such an extent she may fall seriously ill, if
you refuse to come. Worse than all the rest, she
might Suspect the truth! Come, if only to avert
such a. calamity.”

Nnriw. real this letter twice through, her face
growinr white even to the lips. Edna ill, and

calling for her! How dreadful! Surely she might

have |)een spared such a trial as this. ,

“Of Course I must go to her.” she thought. “It
would seem heartless and cruel to remain away.
But it is hard—very hard!”

She dressed herself for the journey and ordered
the Carriage at once. Her limbs trembled, and she
panted with emotion as she ascended the steps of
the Atherton mansion, and rung the bell.

The el ler Mrs. Atherton let her in.

“I am glad you have Came.” she said, an expres-
sion of relief flitting over her face.
nothing but fret, and ask if you are here. At this
rate «he will soon work herself into a fever.”

-‘ What made her ill ‘2" Neria eagerly asked.

“ She has up late. the night before last, waiting
for Gerald to come home, and took a violent cold.
It has settled on her lungs, and we have not been
able to break it up.”

Neria drew a quick, shivering breath. “ Can I go
to her at once?"

“ Certainly. You know the way."

“ She is alone?"

t‘  '1’

Neria hurried away.

Breathing a silent prayer for strength, she entered
Edna’s chamber. The sick girl was reclining in an
easv-chair beside the fire. She wore a loose white
dress. with a shawl drawn over her shoulders. Neria
was shocked and startled by the change a few hours

“Edna does w

u............ M. ..

i

 

28

A MAN’S SIN.

 

had wrought. Edna. looked haggard, pallid, and at
least a‘idozen years older than when she saw her
as .

For some time the sisters remained locked in each
other’s arms, uttering no word. Edna first recover-
ed herself. Tears were chasing each other rapidly
down her cheeks. ,

. “You do not know how I have missed you!" she
exclaimed. “Why did you 0 away?”

“ I—l—fancied you would 0 happier without me,”
Neria stammered, at a loss what to reply.

" Did you? What a mistaken notion! No one
could ever make up for your loss, my precious sis-
ter.’

‘ She clasped Neria’s trembling form still closer.
affectionately kissing her cheek.
“ I see how it is,” she added. “ You feared beinein
the we now that my husband has returned. Fool-
ish gir l he would soon learn to prize your society
quite as highly as I do.”
Then, after a thoughtful ause, she resumed:
“ How strange it seems t at you two have not met
each other yet! I was so anxious for you to be
friends.”
As Neria made no reply, she went on: ,v
“ I was so ill that Gerald insisted upon sitting up
with me. Toward morning he fell asleep in his
chair, and I heard him repeat a name twice over.
It was yours, Neria. I had dinned it so continually
in his ears that he even dreamed of you."
Edna laughed pleasant] as she spoke. How far
she was, poor soul, from ivining the truth!
She soon betraved symptoms of weariness. Her
strength had sadly given way. After a violent fit of
coughing, she said: . .
, “ I think 1 could sleep if left quite to myself for a

while. But you must promise not to leave the
house, Neelie. I want a good long talk with you as
soon as I mike 11 .” .

Neiia withdrew to a small anteroom near by and
sat down, tr ing to still her beatin heart. She felt
like one wal ing Over a bridge of g ass. At any mo-
ment something might occur to render further con—
cealment impossible. ' .

The moments were on, and Neria was buried so
Brofoundly in gloomy reflections that she did not

ear the soft, light steps that approached the door,
nor the knob as it was gently turned. Looking up
all at once with the sudden consciousness of another
presence in the room, she beheld Gerald Alherton
standing before her. _

He was deadly pale, and his eyes burned With _an
unsteady. light. “ Bush 1” he whispered. stretching
out his hand to detain her as, after the first startled
exclamation. she attempted to slip past “ Did you
think I would let you come and go Without exchang-
. lug eyen a word with you?” _ _

Neria sunk into a chair, trembling With pain and
anger.

“ How dare you enter my presence?” she panted.

“ Forgive me."

“ How can I? You have betrayed the trust I re-

osed in you. You know very well that I would not
have entered the house but for the tacit understand-
ing that we would not meet here.” . _

He took a step nearer, eagerly holding out his

arms.

, “This farce has gone far enough,” he said.
“Neria, darling. I find it is impossible to give. you
up. The old love has flamed up in my heart like a
volcano I tried to do my duty and be faithful to
Edna, but it was of no use. The stmgsle was kill-
ing me. It has well-nigh killed you already. What
is the nee? You are my wife, and it is unJustthat
we shoul I be compelled to sacrifice our happiness
for another."

Nerla had her hand on her heart to still its con-
vulsive throbbing. “

"‘ Hush," she cried. “ I cannot listen to you. Go.
go at once! I would rather die than have the truth
come to light at this late day."

“You have nothing of which to feel ashamed."

 

.1

“Remember Edna,” she pleaded, in the husky ac‘
cents of intense despair. “ Be merciful to my poor
sister. If you ever felt the least affection for her, I
implore on to remain faithful till the end.”

At tha moment there came the soft rustle of a wo-
man’s dress across the floor, and Edna Atherton
paused beside the chairl

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
TOO LATE!

Naau saw at a glance that her sister had
heard and understood, and all secrecy was at an end
forever. .

Pale and cold as a statue cavved in marble she
stood there confronting the two, her white dress as
it swept the floor in soft, clinging folds, lending an
additional air of ghaslliness to er livid face. It
seemed an age before the frozen lips parted.

“What is all this?” she demanded. “ Tell me—I
will know the truth, and the whole truth.”

She knew already; but the stunned, bewildered
btrain needed further confirmation of the dreadful
s ory.

Suddenly awakened from the fiiful slumber into
which she had fallen by the sound of voices in the
ante-chamber, Edna had risen and stolen forth to
learn who was there. The door happened to stand
ajar, and almost stumfled with horror, she listened
to every word that was uttered.

No one replied to her for a moment.

“ Why don’t you speak?” Edna said, in a low, con—
strained voxce, looking from one to the other.

Her calmn ss was frightful—more appalling than
the most violent outbreak would have been.

“This mystery must be explained,” she went on,
with the air of an injured queen. “ Gerald. you and
Neria pretended to‘be strangers to each other How
is it that I find you conversing together like this?”

He made an effort to recover himself.

“ The—the meeting was accidental,” he stammer-
ed. “ Don’t think of it any more. Come back to
your chamber. You are too ill to be here."

She shudderineg shook his hand aside.

“ I am not to be put off,” she said. “ Let me know
the worst at once.”

Seeing him draw back she turned suddenly to
Neria, and added, in HCC(IIIS of gentle entreaty:

“ You will tell me. For Heaven’s sake do not keep
me in suspense.”

Neria buried her face in her hands.

I  How can I tell you?” she groaned.
1

“ You will at least answer such questions as I may
task? It would be cruel to deny me that satisfaction.
I wish to know if the man standing yonder is tr 0
same you have told me about—he who married you
in New Orleans and aflcrwa'd drserted you? Are
Lawrence Gordon and Gerald Atherton one and the
same?”

There was no response. After a silence that lasted
only a fit-w seconds. but set mod like many hours,
Edna added, in an apathetic voice:

“ I am answered. To my mind all is now perfectly
clear. Neria, I understand why you left the house so
abruptly after: lie—Gerald—came home.”

“Forgive me,” Noria cried, falling on her knees at
her sister’s feet. “I would sooner die than cause
you a moment’s pain. I (11 I not know, or even
guess the terrible truth until the night Gvrald came
back. Oh, why did I r vor live to Sit} this hour?”

“You should have told me at once.”

Then passing one hand slowly across her forehead
she resumed: _

“It is better to deal with each other plainly m
such a trouble Do not imagine, dear Nrrin, that I
blame you in the least for what has occurred. You
are as innocent of intentional wrong as I am.”

“ Oh, yes, yes.”

“ It is of our changed position that I wish to speak.

“ How can

A MAN?S SIN. '

29.

 

I have not forgotten the verdict of the lawyer’s
agent, who went to New Orleans to investigate the
facts of your marriage. He pronounced it avalid
ceremony. It must have been such. Gerald Ather-
ton is um/r husband. and not mine !”

Her forced composure gave way a little as she ut-
tered these words, and, leaning against a chair, she
shuddered convulsivefy.

“D in’t say that," cried Neria, startingimpulsively
to her 1' ~et. “l have re claim upon him~wish for
none. You are his acknowledged wife in the sight
of the world. Keep your position as such. God
forbid that I should deprive you of itl”

A slight flush kindled in Edna‘s pale cheeks.

“You forget "she said, sharply. “Could I live
with Gerald At ierton as his wife, knowing that the
title I here rightfully belonged to another? No, I
am not fallen so low as that.”

N eria uttered a low-cry of horror. She had never
thought of the matter in that particular light.

“ Heav -n help us."

“ I shall go away from here at once,” Edna re-
sumed. “ Aunt Faunce has a kind heart——she will
surdy give me shelter. Heaven grant that I may
not live long to trouble any one.”

Gerald was looking at her with a stunned, stupid
gaze. S ‘eing her turn slowly away, he sprung for-
ward wilh a hoarse, inarriculate cry.

“ Edna do not leave me like this! I have been a
wretch. but I promise to do everything in my power

to atonw for the past. I will be all you ever imagined '

me. Don‘t go!"

She coldly waved him away.

“ Too late. Let me pass if—‘f

The sentence was never finished; Edna suddenly
pressed her handkerchief to her mouth. It was in-
stantly covered with blood.

That terrible scene had done its work. Gerald
had barely time. to catclnher in his arms as she fell
forwardinsensihlel \ - . ‘

CHAPTER XXIV.
AFTER THE REVELATION.

WHEN consciousness returned, Edna was lying on
the couch in her own pretty chamber. She felt weak
and ill, and could scarcely raise her head from the
pillow. A sense of loss and pain weighed heavily
Upon her heart.

Her first thou ht was of Gerald. Seeing Naria
bending anxious y over her, she caught her hand,
Saying, in an eager whisper:

“ Where is he? Why is he not here?"

“ i asked him to wait outside,” was the answer.
“S'iall [tell him you have recovered, and wish to
553". him ?”

,, “No, no.” She f x11 hack. drawinga quick breath.

Don’t let him ant-r here, Neria.” she pleaded. “ I
tWI wean—and I loved him so. It is better that we
should never meet again.”

‘ Calm yourself. It shall he as you wish.”

.A long silence ensued. E lna lay with her trem-
bling hands clasped above her heart. She was try-
lng to look the situation squarely in the face.

“ EVhIattls the 1mattIer with me?" she said, at last.
88 3 range .Y- remembe ' ‘ '
but thatisa‘l'” r falling insenSible,

eri‘IEa arietti in vain to put her. off.

“ e 00 or says you have ru tured - , .
sel," she reluctantly replied. th is nzhtlhliggdszg.
3:3, fortunately; you will be up again in a few

S Y

“ A few days!" Edna echoed “I must i th'
house before sunset! 1 could not ass eave ' 18
here. _ That is out of the question?‘ (mower mght

Neria began to expostulate. but it was of no use.

he was bent on getting away as quickly as ossible
31nd could not be moved. She soon workedp herself
lmo such a fever of excitement that Neria saw it
Wfiflgsitltler to ield.
“ spea to the h sician." she sai '

we must be guided lgy is advice.” d' at length ,

 

She did so, and won a reluctant Consent that the 

removal should he made at once. All that now re-
mained was to apprise Gerald of the decision.

She found him walkin up and down the corridor
like one distracted. caring her step, he turned
and came quickly toward her.

‘fI am here to speak of Edna,” she coldly said.
“In spite of her weak condition she 18 determined
to leave the house at once.”

" Y hat! she persists in abandoning me?”
(6  9

Covering his face, he groaned aloud. '

“I submit. But you must let me see her alone
for zhfew moments before she goes,” hesaid, at

eng . '

“ Impossible!" was the decisive answer. “My
sister could not endure another interview in her
weakened eonflition. Neither does she wish it.
Spare her the ordeal."

" You do not care how much my heart is wrung,
or how entirely I am bereft,” he passionately ex-
claimed. ,

Neria made no response. It was but a just retri- “
blition—one he had brought upon himself. He was
suffering a little of the agony he had ruthlessly
brought upon others.

Elna was sitting up when she re-entered her
chamber, eagerly giving orders to the maid who had
been summoned. Her eves glittered with excite-
ment, a hectic spot burned in either cheek.

"You need a. k only my plainest dresses,” she
said. “I shal have no use for the others, or my
jewels. Leave them altogether and he—Mr. Ather-
ton—can dispose of them as he leases."

The bewildered maid obeyed t ese instructions to.
the letter.

It was only by a tremendous effort that Edna suc-
ceeded lll keeping any control over herself. When
at last all was read . and, clinging to Neria’s arm,
she arose to leave t 0 room and the house, she was
almost overcome.

“I came here a happy briie,” she said, “and
never dreamed what a farce I was living. A
wrecked life and broken heart are all I have to take
away.” "

“Come ” said Neria, drawing her forcibly for~
ward. “ It will never do to give way like this.”

The halls and corridors were clear. Gerald had
taken care of that. Neither he nor Mrs. Atherton
apIpeared. , ’

twas with alast long. lin erin look full of un/
utterable anguish that Edna eft t e house.

“This is my farewell," she said.

It seems like taking leave of t e dead.” ,
They entered the carriage. Neria did not draw a;
free breath until they reached Mrs. Faunce’s door.
She feared that a second hemorrhage might set in
on the way. '

Mrs. Faunee stood waiting in the hall. her shrewd
old face betraying wonder and curiosxty. She fell
back a step- wi h a smothered ejaculation as her
glance fell upon the pale. drooping figure of Edna.

“Mercy on me! 'What is all this?” ,

Neria made a quick sign of caution. I

“ Hush!" she said, in a low tone of vouce. “Ask
no questions, but leave me to deal with my sister
alone. I will explain all. presentlv."

Mrs. Faunce leaned against the wall, suffering
them to pass by. Never, in all her life, had she
been so astonished.

“ What can it be?” she vainly asked herself. "In
the first place, Neria came flying here, at dead of
night, for refuge, and now it is Edna. Something
must be radically wrong at the Atherton mansion.
But what?”

An hour later she had heard the whole story.
Leaving Edna lying in the deep sleep of exhaustion
N eria. sought the presence of her aunt and reveal
all. without reservation.

Mrs. Faunce could scarcely believe the evidence of
her senses.

“I shall never 
come here again, or behold an thing I leave behind” ‘°*

1

   
  

. AgAl‘ .' .

é

....  w . mm...

 

/30 A MAN’S SIN.
“M God!" she gasped, at last. “Is it possible At a late hour of that same evening, as Neria set
that erald Atherton is the wretch who treated you beside the couch, there came a low tap at the win-

so shamefully? To think that Edna should havo mar-
ried him, too, and neither of you to know. It is
dreadful! I wish I had the wretch by tle neck! I
could strangle him with right good will.”

“ I entreat you to be careful,” pleaded Neria.
“ For Edna's sake there must be no scandal. It is not
necessary that the facts shoul i ever come to light.
The world will know that my sister and her husband
have parted, but it need not be told the rrason.”

Mrs. Faunce felt the force of Neria’s reasoning.
Yes, the secret must be kept-it was due to all.

 

CHAPTER XXV.
ENTERING INTO nns'r.

NEARLY a month went by.

Edna was rapidly and surely fading. Day by day
she grew weaker, her coughing fits more violent,
and the hemorrhages. to which she was now sub-
ject more frequent.

Edna was one of the first to realize her impending
fate. One day as Neria sat beside the bed, bathing
her hot brow and hands with eau de Cologne, she
spoke of it.

“ To most persons of my age the thought of death
is terrible. It only brings comfort to me. There
could be no other esca e from the degrading and in—
tolerable position in w ich I am placed. I am ready

go. _
“ 0h, Edna!” cried Neria, in a choking vorce.
“I know you will mourn for me,” she said, lifting
_, her hollow eyes to her sister’s face. " You have al-
ways loved me tenderly and devotedly. For a_tnne
it may seem very lonely here. But even you will re-
joice to feel that I am at rest where shame and sor-
row can never assail me more.”

“Do not give up. You should try to live for the
sake of those who love you.”

Edna slowly shook her head.

“The burden of life is more than I can bear. God
knew it, and is merciful in calling me home. A lit-
tle while. and I shall be beyond the reach of grief
and pain.”

Aftera long pause she added, in a musing tone:

“ When all IS over I would like to be taken to my

‘ old home, and buried beside In mother. I have a
notion that I could rest better t iere. The skies are
warmer, the sun would kiss my rave, and flowers
bloom earlier and later unon it. 0 you romisc‘?"

“Yes ” Neria answered, unsteadily. 'Anything
you wis .” _

After that conversation, she seemed to take giant
strides toward the grave.

One day, aftera long silence. she suddenly stretch—
ed out her wasted hand, suffering it to fall upon her
sister’s. . I

"' Neria, are we alone?” she said, In an eager
whisper. “' I have something to say to you before it
is too late.” _

“You can speak freely, dear. There IS no one else
to hear.” .

Her eyes droopnd; for an instant she hes1tated.

“What I wish to say concerns Gerald and—and—
yourself," she faltered. "Forgive me if 1 cause
you momentary pain. I know that you. loved him
well and truly. You are his wife. He Will be. a bet-
ter man for what he has passed through. When I
am gone I want you to promise that you W111 take
the place I have wrongfully filled, bear the name A]
have borne.” ‘

“Never!” cried Neria, starting back. ‘ I could
not. It would be an insult to your memory—abhor-
rent to my wronged womanhood.” . ”

“ But it is my wish that you should be re—united,
Edna said, in a Solemn voice. _

‘ “Do not speak of such a consummation!” Neria
exclaimed. “I could not entertain the thought for
one moment. I cannot—dare not tell you my feel-
ings toward one who has so wronged us both. Let
us not talk more of it. I cannot hear it.”

 

dow. Edna was aslee . N eria rose with a startled
feehng, and, approac 'ng the window, drew back
the shade.

Gerald stood there on the little balcony that ex-
tended along the front of the house. ‘

He signed for Neria to raise the sash.

“ How is she?” be eagerly inquired, the instant she
had complied with his request.

“Fading rapidlIv1 away, ’ she answered, with diff:-
culty restraining er tears. "A few days more will
see the end.”

He stood silent a moment, one hand pressed tightly
upon his throat. . '

“ Can I see her?” he said at length in a hoarse
voice that sounded utrerl unlike his own.

“ Of what use would it e?”

“ I could ask her forgiveness a ain.
comfort to me.
I could make.”

Reparation! at that late dayl
sick to think of it.

While she stood silent, trembling with sorrow and
indignation, a feeble voice spoke her name:

“ N eria, where are you?”

She entered hastily. Edna la y with her eyes wide
open breathing heavily and painfuléy.

" ou are worse?” Neria exclaime .

Edna feebly put up her hand.

“ Yes,” she aDSWered. her voice scarcely audible
for weakness. “I feel that the end is near. It hrs:
come sooner than we expected—almost too soon I! r
my purpose, perhaps. ”

Then, fixing ler glazing eyes eagerly on her sis-
ter’s face, she added:

“ I have one request to make.
fore I die! Do not refuse me. I always mean? to
send for him at the last. I loved 1 im so. Neria,
Ncria. you have not the heart to refuse my dying
request?” _

A moment‘s hesitation, and the wretched girl cried
in a voice of {:2 ief and horror:

“ No, no! You shall see him; he is here!”

Edna started up with a wild glitter in her eyes.

2“ Here? Oh! do not deceive me. I could not bear
it!

Neria went straight to the window and threw back
the blind. '

“You can enter,” she said, coldly.

A glad cry came from the couch as Gerald step-
red across the sill. He went feebly on, and falling
on his knees, caught the hand of the dying woman,
and held it press (1 convulsiver to his lips.

“ Oh, Edna, is it thus we meet at last?"

She laid her cheek against his. and so held him
fast for a moment. Al! the pain and grief were
gone from her face—a divme peace reigned there
instead.

“You are with me again,” she breathed, “and I
can die content.”

After a brief silence she looked u , and said:

“Kiss me. Neria. then leave us afhne.”

What passed within that rOom no one ever knew.
At last, after a long interval, Gerald threw open the
door, and fell half-fainting across the threshold.
Elena did not st<p to question him, but entered has-
ti y. ,

All was still. Edna lay with her hands folded, a
Eeaceful smile parting her lips. That tortured heart

ad found rest at last!

CHAPTER XXVI.
THE BITTER END.

FASHIONABLE New York society was shocked and
startled when news of Edna’s death, after so brief
an illness, went abroad.

She was laid to rest as Gerald Atherton’s wife. and
her s 'ciely friends never knew—never will know.—
the miserable secret that shortened and saddened
the life that otherwise might have been so happy.

It would be a
Perhaps there is some reparation

It turned Neria

I must see Mm be-

t

A MAN’S SIN. 81 '

 

For her sister’s sake, that no sus icion might be
awakened, or reproach cast upon dna’s memory.
Neria accompanied Gerald to the grave. it was a
terrible ordeal, however. The instant all was over.
she withdrew to the seclusion of Mrs Faunce’s
house, and with an aching heart, took up the burden
of her solitary existence.

The sorrow-laden weeks went by. She never went
abroad, and rec-iverl no visitors until one May after-
noon, when, as she was sitting listlessly in the draw-
ing-room, Gerald Atherton was ushered unceremo-
niously into her resence. She had not seen him
since the day of E1 na’s funeral. and was shocked and
sur rised at the change visible in his appearance.
He ooked haggard and wild-eyed, and his face was
tnia and worn.

“I have lived in torment, these last few weeks,”
he uttered. aft Jr some painful words had passed be-
tween them. “I could endure it no longer. Neria,
your resentment must have passed away ere this.
You will not refuse me the kind words for which my
heart is hungering?”

“What do you expect?” she calmly demanded,
though all her pulses were throbbing.

"That bright dream of one year. ago was very
sweet to us both. I have never forgotten it. Why
should we not live it Over? This estrangemeut is
terrible. It has continued too long already. There
should be an end of it.”

He was coming nearer, but she waved him reso-
lutely away“ ‘

“ It is necessary we should understand each other
once and forever,” she said. “ You and I have noth-
ing in common, Gerald Atherton. The Sooner we
part to see each other no more. the better.”

He gazed at her a moment, trembling with intense
excitement. .

“You are not in earnest, Neria,” he gasped. “You
can’t be.”

" Yes.” she replied. “The gulf between us is deep
as death—and as impassable. Henceforth we are as
strangers to each other.”

A strange cry of blended anguish and rage broke
from his lips. He saw that all was lost—persistence
would be useless.

“Great God! Is this to be my unishment?” he
firoained. striking his clinched han against his fore-

ea .

The next moment he was gone. Neria saw him
climb into the light carriage that waited before the
door. snatch up the lines, and strike the horse a
cruel blow with his whip.

Others who saw him that day said he drove furi'
ously through the streets, his muscles set. his face
pallid as death, his eyes wild and glittering. The
result was what might have been expected. Sud-
denly his light carriage became entangled in a snarl
of heavier vehicles; the frightened horse became
uncontrollable; and then the catastrophe occurred.
G :I-ald was thrown headlong against acurbstone
only a few feet distant, where he lay a mass of lacer-
Mel and quivering flesh.

He spoke but once after they picked him up.
“ Neria will forgive me now." he murmured. and so
closixd his eyes u on this world, where his years had
been few, but to of evil.

Who will say that a violent death was not the
fitting end of such a life?

CHAPTER XXVlI.
concwsmx.

No event of importance marked Neria‘s lire dur—
in v the next twelve months.

The life she led was a very useful onn, fun of
charity and deeds of benevolence. Mrs. Fiunce‘s
abundant wealth. of which she was the acknowl-
edged heir, rendered it an easy matter to give with
a generous hand.

But one relaxation did the devoted girl permither-
self—«a. monthly’visit to Cragnest. in order to spend
a day with Mrs. Charlton. Gilbert Brandon still re-
mained abroad, but his sister often read long ex-

\

 

tracts from his manly and entertaining letters. and
Neria soon began to look forward to these occasions
with a degree of pleasure and interest of which she
was scarcely aware.

At last there came a day when Mrs. Charlton hur-
ried to meet her. radiant and happy, the moment the
carriage drew up before the door.

“ I have a leasant surprise in store for you, dear,”
she said. “ omet is way.”

Perplexed and curious, Neria followed her hostess
to the drawing-room door. Mrs. Charl on pauSed
on the threshold. gently thrusting her within the
mom. "‘ I’m going to leave you to find out what it

is for yourself,” she added, laughingly, and hurried

away.

Neria scarcely dared raise her eyes. She felt in-
tuitively what was coming, even before a warm
hand clasped her own, and a rich Voice said, close
to her ear:

" Have you no words of welcome for a homesick
wanderer?”

Gilbert Brandon stood beside her, bronzed with
foreign travel, handsome and more manly-looking
than when he went away. The expression of peace
and content it once had lacked was on his face.
Neria felt herself blushing crimson as he bent over
her. It was a happy moment.

“ Welcome home!” she murmured.

Clasping her in his arms, with all a lover‘s unrea— I

souing impatience. he cried: . _

“ Neria, speak to me, love! Tell me if there is any
need ever to leave you again I"

She leaned her head upon his shoulder with a
happy sigh. That was her answer.

A ter storm had come sunshine, after trouble a
calm. She had found shelter from all her sorrows
in a love that would never weary—never grow cold.

' THE END. ’

 

DIME DIALOGUES AND SPEAKERS

17 OR SCHOOL EXHIBITION?
AND HOME JLWTERTAINJIEJV TS.

Dialogues. Nos. 1 to 32 inclusive, 15 to 25 popu-
lar dialogues and dramas in each book. Each vol-
ume 100 pages 12mo.

Speakers, Nos. 1 to 24 inclusive. Each speaker
100 pages 12mo. containing from 50 to 75 pieces.

 

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Dime Book of Dreams.
Dime Fortune Teller.
Dime Ladies’ Letter Writer.
Dime Lovers’ Casket.
Dime Ball-Room Companion.
Dime Book of 100 Games.
I Dime Chess Instructor.
Dime Book of Beauty.

WThe above books are sold by newsdealerl
everywhere, or will be sent, post-paid. to any ad-
dress, on receipt of price, ten cents each. anu
AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William 513.. N. Y.

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PUBLISHED EVER Y TUESDA Y.

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1 A Brlde of’nDny; cry The .‘Irslcry of “'inil'refl '

Leigh. Bv Mary Read (,‘rowull.
2 The Girl 'ii‘e: OhThc True and the False. lly
Bartlcy 'l‘. (,‘alnphvll.
3 “’11s It Love? or, C(lllufl'lfllls and Sweethearts. lly
Will. Masml 'l‘urncr, )l. l).
4 Married In "lute; ur,A YoungGirl’s Temptation.
Br Rett Winwuud.
5 ‘Vlll She Murry "It"? or, The Masked liride.
By Mrs. Mary Rue-d ('rowcll.
6 HI“! Lawful ‘Vlll‘; 0r, Myra, the Chilan Adop-
titm. Bv Mrs. Ann S. Sirphens.
7 A Fnlr FaCe; 0r, Out in the World. By Bartley ’1'.
Campbell.
8 A Mad Marriage; or,The lrnn “'ill. liy Mary
A. llenlsnn.
9 A Dan liter of Eve; or, Blinded by Love. liy
Mu. Millirv Reed Crawl-ll.
10 The Broken Beta-cum]; or, Lore versus llate.
By Mary Gran-a llalpine.
11 The Bride of an Actor; or. Drivcn t‘rn-m “mile.
lly thw Authnr hf“ Alnnc in the \Vnrl l." cit-H Mr,
12 A. Pair ot‘Gray Eyes; or, The l‘In-crn'ldNecklace.
By Rnsu Kennrdy.
13 “’lthout ll Heart: 0!, “'alhing nn the lirinli. l§_v
Col. Prentiss In.:*rah .m.
14 Alone In the “'urld: nr. Thu Ynunw “my. wnrd,
By thv Authnr of “ ’l‘he llrirla nl'an M~tnr,"'r-tr-., etc.
15 MONIQI‘lCflH; or, The Farmcr‘sSin-tathcart. Hr (n.1,
Prentiss] graham. ’
16 The Secret Man-rhino; or, A Duchess in Split: of
llnra-li' Br Sarai‘laxtnn,
17 Slater against- Slstcr; M, The lllvnln' of lli-“rfs,
llv Mrs. Mary llccd ('I'nwvll. '
18 Heart. to “cart; or, Fair I’hyllis‘s Love. Irv
Arabella Rnnthwnrth. "
19 Sold for Gold; hr, Almost Lnst. By Airs, M. v,
'ict r.
20 Entangled; or, A Daugnmus (lainc. Dy Henrietta
| hackeray.
21 Sybll Chaim; or,The Gambler‘s “'ii‘r. lly Mrs.V
Ann R. Stclmn-ns.
22 Trust “or Not; or, A True Knight.
Leicester.
23 Sinned Against; or, The Winthrnp pride, . 1;)-
Clara Aug'nstn
21 A Loyal Lover: nr.'l'he Last of the Grimspeths
By Arabella Smnhwnrlh.
25 The Cnuntrv Cousin; or, All is not Gold that
Gliltrrs. By {me Kcnncdy.
26 "In Idol: or, The Ill-Starred Marriage. lly Mrs.
Mary Reed Crowell.
27 Flirtntlon; or. A Young: Girl‘s Gum] Name. By
Jar-ob Aharhanell (Ralph Royal).
28 Saw and Forever; or, Why Did She Marry llim'!
y llcnriu-ita Thackeray.
29 Orphan Nell, the Orange Girl; or, the Lust Heir.
Iiy Agile Pear-w.
80 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. Rowsnn.
31 The Little "eh-can; or, Under a Cloud.
Mary A. Denisnn.
82 Leap Year ; or, Why She I‘rnposvd.

By Margaret

lly Mrs.
By Sara. Clax-

ton.

88 In S lte of Herself; or, Jeanette's Repuratiou.
By  R. Sherwuod.

84 ller FaceWns ller Fortune. llv lClcannr lilainc.

85 The Cuban "dream; or. The Prisoner of La Vin-
tresse. By Mrs. Mary A. Denisnn.

86 Only a Schoolmlntrean; or, Ilar Untold Secret.
By Arabella Suathworth.

 

THIRTY-TVVO OC'TA V0 PAGES.

———/ Waverley Library;—
__;_/

82' The “'ingcd Messenger: or, Risking All for a
Heart. By Mrs. Mary Reed (,‘rnwell.

38 “'5” she a Coquette? or,A Strange Courtship.
By llr-nrieltn 'l hackeray.

89 One Vl'umnn’n "cart; or, Saved from the Street.
By tic.an S. Kainie.

40 Love-Mud ; 0r, Betmtlwd, Married, Divorced and—-
By Wm. Mason Turner, N. l).

41 For "or "our Sake; 0r, Saved From Himself. By
Sara (Tlnxton.

42 Thellllonquet Girl; or, A Million of Money. By

in c ’rnnv.

43 )lnrlunu, the Prima Donna. liy Arabella Snuthwcrlh.

44 The Eben Muuk; or, The Mysterious Guardian.
By Mrs. Marv Reed Urnwell.

45 Lucy Temp e. Daughter of Chnrlutte.

46 '1 he ’l'hree Slsterst or, The Myslery of Lord
Chulfont. By Alice Fleming.

4? The Creole Sisters; or, The_ Mystery of the
I’errys. By Mrs. Anna E. I’m-tor.

B A )lurrlng‘e ul‘Convenlcnce . By Sara Claxton.

49 'I he \Vll‘e’n Secret; or. "l’wixt Cup and Lip. By

(Jul. Juan Lewis.

. 50 Sir Archer's “ride; or, The Queen of Hearts.

lllr Arabella Snutlm'nrlh.
51 Led Aflll’lly . Br Uclnve Frillllr’l.
52 llornelcnn; or, Two Orphan Girls in New York. liy
Albert \V. Aikcn.
53 The Maniac Bride: nr.The Dead Secret ofl'lollow
Ash llall. liv Margaret lllnnut.
51 l’lulg'cd to Murry; or, in ane’s Bonds. By
\Swra (,‘laxlun.
55 ('l‘oIl‘n Ila-cit; or, Thc Diamond Legacy. By Mrs.
Jennie lln. is linrinn. _
56 Beatrice. the Beautiful; or, Ills Second Lore.
By Aralmlla Suutlm‘nrii’i’f’ a... x
57 “'Ithout Morey . ilv liar-{icy T. (fnmphcll.
58 The Burmmt’n Secret; «-r, The Rival llal —Sislara.
By Sam (Ilaxtnn. ‘
59 Anna: Honeytho Act resin; or, the Romance uf a
Itnhy Ring. liv Wm. Mason l'nr er. ‘.\l.
60 A “'ldow‘s “'llcn; nr, A Bitter Vengeance. By
Rachcl llernhardi.
6] Did "0 Lovc Ilerl By Ila tlcy T. Cmnph ll.
62 Almost; in "in Power: 0 , More Sinned Against
than Sinninu. By Lillian Lovejnv.
63 She I?” Not Love lllm. liy Arabella Smith-
wort I.
64 Bonnie Ruynor. the “'ork Girl. By Wm-
Mason Turner, M. D. ‘
65 A llimve Girl; or, Sunshhe at Last. By Alice
F emin 7.
66 Lord “hoth‘n Sin; or, lietrnthed at the (‘radlm liy
Georgiana Dickens.
67 A \Vll‘ ed "curt; 01’, the False nnddhc True l'h'
Sara Claxton. ‘
68 "In Heart’s Mistress; or, Love at First Sight.
liy Arnhelln Snnihimrih.
69 The Only Daughter; or, Brother against Lover.
llv Alice Fleming.
70 Why I Married Him! or, the Woman in ('lrav.
lly Sara (Ilaxtnn. ‘
’?1 Honor Bound; or,Sealad tn Scc'ccv. liv Lillian
Lovqny. A '
72 A Man’s Sin; or, Iii: Lawful Wife. By Rr-tt Win-
wand. Randy UN. in.
73 Ill-A 0wn Again: or, Trust llcr Not. By Arabella
Nilltllwcrth. Randy Oct. lit.
74 Adria. the Adopted. :y Mrs. .lennic Davis nur-
tun. Rcady Oct. 20. I

The Waverley Library is for sale by all newsdealers, five cents per copy, or

sent by mail on receipt of six cents each.

CchacZZe and AcZa7ns, Publishers,
3/ ' No. 98 William street. New York.

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