' \

_  o§§.1‘:'f$;'s'faglz&‘:¥55 33 H5 951§®3i§2§ >5
. r \" 77' ‘ ‘ I ' '

 

 

k  “FA

 

 

Copyrighted. Hm}, by “runny. AM» ADAMN. Huh-rev] m the Punt. ("five at. New York. N. Y., as Second Clubs Mail Mutter.

PUBLISHED WEEKLYBY BEADLE AND ADAMS,
No. 98 William Street, New York.

$2.50
a Year.

I Price.
Five Cents.

 

 

 

v V

I .

WW}

“h:

“mm EYEs DILATED, AND WERE FIXED 0N :om; DISTANI‘ OBJECT.”

HAUNTED HEARTS;

Or, THE BROKEN BETROTHAL.
BY RA CEEL BERNIIARDT.

CHAPTER I.
WAS IT A. GHOST?
Gamma EVE! How many thoughts clus-

ter round it! It is Christmas Eve when this
story begins, so fraught; with joy and sorrow to
four young Marts.

At Larch Abbey, the grand, old, many-win-
dowed building, with the dark gray walls, stand~
ing in Wide grounds, it is the habit to keep up
the various old customs belonging to Christmas-
tide.

The weather is seasonable, for it is clear and
frosty, and there has been a. heavy fall of snow,

 

I HAUNTED HEARTS.

 

on the revious day, so that to-night there is a
magica world Without, covnrcd with soft fold~
ings of purest white, which take fantastic shapes
on the branches of the old trees in the pleasure
grounds.

Over this cold and beautiful drapery of snow
the moon throws down her fullest light—and
moonlight and fresh-fallen snow are ghost—like,
but indescribany beautiful.

Silence comes in to aid this enchantment, for
there are no rough noises here, near this grand
old Abbey, behind which spread wide majestic
woods and far-stretching plains.

Silence—the solemnity of the moonlight and
of the hour might surely be‘enough:to wake an
imaginative heart to invest the silence with
something of mystery.

That was what was said afterward by most
of the good folks assembled that evening at
Larch Abbey.

Old Deborah Cane did not sa so, however
but then she was an anti uated ame, who ha
been nurse at the Abbey or years out of num-
ber: and who would listen seriously to what an
old nurse believed?

Even beautiful Delia Larch smiled when De-
borah grew solemn over her ghost stories.

Delia Larch is the heroine of this story, and
never has she appeared more beautiful than
now.

She is dressed in a robe of dark sweeping vel-
vet with only a little of richest, creainiest lace
at he throat and wrists. A jewel gleams in
her dusky hair; her dark lashes shade a fair
cheek, tinted with health and beauty, and when
she raises these lashes, her eyes laugh out their
mirthfulness.

She holds in her hands a furred mantle, ready
to throw over her when the rush of cold air
shall be admitted as the hall door opens, for
several of the guests who have formed that
merry Christmas Eve party reside in the neigh-
borhood, and are now going home.

And Delia has proposed, and all those who re-
main at the Abbey have readin agreed, to see
the departing nests to their carriages.

They reach t is hall; Delia’s handsome brother
Re 'nald, two or three years her senior, stands
bes do her.

Those two cling together lovingly, for rich as
they are in this world’s goods, they are poor in
relatives—father, mother, and elder brother
long since in the grave ; and so Delia
owns the Abbe and its lands, and Reginald is
heir to a still, arger property, called Mount’s
Castle; but the brother and sister live here at
the Abbey together, and the wife of their (le-
ceased guardian, Mrs. Ashley, dwells wit [1 them.

She is a kind old lady, and, fortunately for
Delia, is fond of gayetv. ‘

She stands here in the hall on this occasion
when we introduce Delia and her brother to our
readers. There are many guests besides, among
whom we may notice Lord Lindsay Deane and
Miss Favoretta Earle; he a yomig noble 0t au-
cient lineage, she a y0ung lady or high position
and much wealth.

In the background are several servants.

Twelve o‘clock begins to strike with solemn
distinctness, and really no one had any idea
that it was nearly so late. ,

 

 

Lord Lindsay casts an appealing glance at
Delia: does she perceive it? t So, she reigns to
be busy with the departing guests.

But Reginald Larch has boldly taken his
stand by Favoretta—or rather, has drawn her
forward to his side; for are they not aflianced
lovers now? Did she not tell iin yesterday
(ohl blissful yesterday!) that she could return
his love?

So Reginald draws Fey’s hand within his own
as midnight begins to chime.

The wide hall door swings softly open, and-
what a sight presents itself!

Did ever snow wear sucha garb of enchanting
beauty under the cold, clear moonlight?

N obod thought of the cold.

“ Good, -night! Merry Christmas and Happy
New Y ear l” was said by all: and the carriages
containing the departing visitors rolled away.

But I am wrong in saying that everybody
amid that assemblage called out the good-nigh”
and the good wish; for Delia did not.

Instead thereof, she gave a cry, suppressed
indeed, but it startled those near her; especially
as her eyes dilated, and were fixed on some
distant object in a assing terror.

" What is it, D. ?’ asked Reginald, bending to-
ward b er. .

“ Didn’t you see?”she said, softly and hur-
riedly. “Out there in the snow—that figmje
shrinking away! Oh, Boggy, you noticed his
hat and his whole amwurancef”

“No, I didn’t; and I think you mistook the
broad patch of light falling on that bush so
heavily snow-laden, and the cedar bough above,
for a man’s figure,” replied Reginald, in the
same tone.

" Oh, no!” whispered Delia.

It was all she had time to say, for the house
door closed.

“ Come back into the saloon, good people, for
a few moments that you may get; warm again
before retiring," cried Mrs. Ashley, leading the

we .

Aynd all followed except Delia, who lingered,
and said to the old mun-servant who had opened
the door, “ I Wish I could l()l vi; out once more!”

“Certainly, miss, if you wish it 1” And then
the cold air rushed in once again, and the won-
derful world outside was disclosed to View. .

Delia, unheeding the sharp air, stood full in
the entrance, and gave one searching glance at
the cedar bough and the shrub beneath it, and
then signed to the servant to close the door.
After which she became aware that Lord Lind-
my Deane was lingering at a. little dist/rinse,
“rid-fully and timid! y regarding her.

Delia looked up at him, and a blush stole over
her fair face; but she laughed lightly.

“You have lwen taking another 001! at the
enchanting Christmas Evc'!”aSKCd he, coming
to her side. .

“ No: at nothing so romantic,” she smllcd.

h “ No! Let me ask, then, what was it you
ono: cd b our notice?” .

“l wasysgarching for the ghost, LOI'd,Lmd'
say. It may be proper for the hour and tune of
year; but you will set rue down as very Silly
and fanciful for doing so.”

“i will help on look for the ghost myself!”
said tile- young ord. warmly.

< 35.3...

e— r,  inn-a..- I; A.-

~.._.' 17m...~_~__———-—mm

HAUNTED HEARTS. 3

 

What else might he not have said if old Hart,
ther man-servant, had not been there in the
background (resgegtfully lingering till he could
pass—Delia. and rd Lindsay V» cm standing in
the archway of the inner hall) it is impossible
toss. .

Old, Deborah, too, was waiting in the fore-
ground, that she might exchange a. “Good-
night” with Miss Delia. Thus there was hardly
an opportunit for love-making.

In reply to ' dsay’s last speech, Delia said,
more serious! , “ It was not a ghost that I was
seekin ; but do wish somebody had noticed it
as we] as I. It was a. figure in a slouch hat,
shrinking away among the trees.”

“ I’ll go out and Iind him, if he is to be
found !” And the youn man would have seized
his overcoat, and rush out into the snow, had
not Delia laid the tips of her fingers entreating-
1y on his arm.

“Tomorrow! to-morrow! Oh, not to-night !”
she cried.

“ To-morrow will be too late,” he answered.

‘ “We can trace the foot-marks. Oh! please
come now into the saloon with me,” she urged.

He would have gone any where with her, and
was easily persuaded.

When they returned to the loft a tment,
people were exchanging the “ Good-
night” with each other.

As Lindsay clasped Delia’s hand, he imprison-
ed it lin rineg.

“He oves me !” was the thought which
thrilled throu h her heart. And a rosy future,
all golden wit hues of warmest affection, un-
rolled itself as by enchantment before her vision
within.

Who could chide her? Could she foresee that
the mysterious figure of which she had caught'a
fleeting lance that night—the dark figure in
the slouc hat, hurrying,r away amid the snow-
wreaths, carried with him her destiny?

The young girl ascended the staircase with
Fay, her heart still heating to a rapturous tune
with Lindsay’s hand-pressure. As she reached
her own apartment, her first action was to
hurry to one of the wind0ws, and to draw aside
the curtains to gaze out upon the night.

Her wind0ws overlooked the front of the Ab-
bey, and if the reflection of the light streaming
on the fantastic white folds of snow had really
caused the appearance of a figure, she would
like to feel assured if she had made a mistake.

But no! Broad and fair fell the moonlight
over the particular shrub she had had in view
when the home door was opened, and a dark
cedar bough waved above it; but there was no
resemblance now to the figure of a man in a
slouch hat.

A tap at the door, and old Deborah entered.

“I could not go to. rest to-night, Miss Delia,
without comlélghto Wish you Joy for the Christ
mastide ” sai s e.

“ Corrie in, dear Deborah,” cried Delia, draw-
ing her old nurse to the  Then. to the
sleepy maid who was awaiting her, “Mmston
you need not stay a moment more. I shalI
wait on myself to-night.”

And having dismissed her, Delia sat down on
the thick hearth-rug at Deborah‘s feet.

 

“Did you hear me can out, Deboth said
she, resently, when they had exchanged a few
worr s.

“No, my dear Miss Delia; but I know’d there
was soinvthin’ amiss, ’cos I was watchin’ you.
And you looked startled, and whispered to Mr.
Reggy, an’ had the house door opened agen.
Besides, I heerd you tell my Lord Lindsay as
you’d seen a ghost. Which no doubt you did,
my dear young lady.”

“Oh, no, nurse! I am not so foolish as to
think that. But I did see a figure in a slouch
but getting away as fast as he could out of
sight under the cedar bough. And I wonder
whom it (:ouh! be!”

“I know i” answered the old woman, myste-
riously, and with awe in her tone.

Delia looked at her searchingly.

“ I’ve never said a word to you all these
years, but to-night I seem as it I couldn’t hold
my tongue,” continued Deborah. “Ah! r
dear Mr. James, dead in foreign lands so fig
ago! No wonder that on Christmas Eve his
spirit should come to look at the place he never
in life came back to! That was who you saw,
Miss Delia; but I wish he could rest, poor Mr.
James!”

“Nurse, dear,” cried Delia, “don’t talk like
that! 1t pains me, even though I never knew—
neither I nor Boggy—our eldest brother, James.
His death was so sad, out in the wild prairies,
away from every one at home; and so sudden,
too, from the bite of a rattlesnake. Oh, if they
had only had brandy enough with them, he
might have been saved!”

‘ ’Twas a and death, my dear; but sadder
still, to my mind, that he can’t rest! For you
may depend on it, there’s no ghost but his wan-
ders about the old Abbey! A slouch hat I well
remember he used to wear. Don’t talk of it to
other people, dear Miss Delia, or the servants
will ta 0 fright. Poor Mr. James would never
hurt one of ’em; he was a bit extravagant, I
don’t deny; your papa paid his debts twice, and
then he Went to ’.\.=ei'ica. But he was a-comin’
back all right when he died. Show me just
now where you see him? Do, now, Miss Delia.”

Delia drew her to the window. and indicated
the precise spot where she had observed the
figure, at the same time entreatin her old nurse
notttlo believe that any ghost co d revisit this
ear .

“And why not?” asked Deborah, confidently.
(Delia’s reasoning was all thrown awa .)

“ Well, well, I mustn’t talk on, for ’tis late—a
good hour into Christmas Da , so I must leave
you to your rest, Miss Delia! But this I do
wantto say; speak to the shade of your dear
brother, Mr. James, if so be he appears to you
again. Maybe he wants to tell you somethin’,
or to unburden his mind.”

“ Dear Deborah, 1 wish you didn’t believe in
ghosts,” said Delia. “ But tell me, how old
would my brother James be if he had lived till
to-ni‘iltitf He was so much older than Baggy or
no se

‘y‘ He’d ’9) been nigh upon forty. Well, he was
always kind to his old nurse, that I know, it he
was a bit extravagant, which I don’t deny.
Young men will heyouns men. Mr. Ram’s a

 

 

 

~ “&~‘

‘ HAUNTED HEARTS.

 

wonder, so full 0’ s irits and up to eyerything,
an’ yet that stea yl Well, good-night, Miss
Delia, or I shall talk till dawn.

Delia. returned her good-night kindly, and ere
she laid her head on her pillow, once more drew
aside her curtain, and gazed out on the enchant-
ing prospect of snow, lighted by the rays of the
moon.

What a start she gave as she gazed! Was it
fancy, or was there actually the dim figure of a
man wearinga slouch hat, standing out there
amid the snow-wreaths?

As she propounded this question to her own
fast-beating heart, two o’clock tolled out upon
the stillness of early morning.

 

CHAPTER It.
ran TAP in run wmnow.

RETURNING daylight awakened Delia, and her
first remembrance was connected with the oc-
currence of last night. .

“ Atleast,” thoughtshe, “ Ican trace the mark
of footste in the snow, if a man really was
there by t e old cedar tree 1”

But what was her disappointment to find that
a thaw had set in, and that rain had been pour-

i down.
uThere was no chance now of seeing the mark
of footsteps in the sodden snow.

“ And so ayou saw a ghost last night, DJ”
asked Re 1: d, jokingly, ashe greeted his siste.
at brea ast.

“ So says Deborah,” she answered.

“You should have let me go and search for
the apparition last night, Miss Larch,”remark‘
ed Lord Lindsay, taking the place by her side.
“Will you come and show me the cxactspot
where you discovered it? Then I shall know, in
case on wish to send me after it on some other
oecas on.”

“B all means; for it is not every one who
woul have the courage to pursue a ghost,”
laughed Delia. _

“ Then you will really come out and instruct
me as to the whereabouts of the apparition?”
pursued he.

Delia said “Yes,” with a little blush, for her
heart told her what his anxiety to encounter
the ghost really meant. \Vas it not for .the
charm of being alone with her that he petition-
ed in this earnest wa that she should show him
the exact spot near t )0 cedar tree?

0! course this was patent to others as well as
to Delia; but, as no one could see. any reason
why Lord Lindsay should not fall in love_ With
her, nobody thought of checking their inter-
course.

And so they went out together, though it
threatened to rain, and the prospect out of doors
was dim and gloomy.

But what was that to these light-hearted peo-

lei They were together, and to them the
Peaden sky looked bri ht.
hts, b mful of bliss, were cours-
e young man’s brain as he wallké

ve e

Ha py thou
ing t rou h .
ed by Del ’s side along the curvmg _
pathway which led to the cedar tree. hopes
leaped u , and would not be Surely
he migh hope now? This sweet and most 10V-
able girl would never deceive any meal And

 

latel she had listened, not unwillingly, to his
war , and her smiles and blushes came and
went when he addressed her. Should he risk
all on a word? How soon might he tell her—so
far as speech could do that—how infinitely dear
she was to him? '

That was the thought in his heart as they
went on toward the cedar tree.

“ Here it was that I noticed the figure,” said
Delia, softly. “But now there are onlv patches
of snow, so we cannot determine whether or no
any one came here.”

“Who says that?” cried Lord Lindsa ,hasten-
ing forward and picking up, near t eside of
the pathna handkerchief, not very noticeable,
lyin against a patch of melting snow.

“ ere is a. remnant of the apparition, I do
believe!” exclaimed he. “ \Vell, he has some
taste; for this is white, and fine cambric. Now
for the name of his ghostship.”

Delia looked with some interest, as the letters
“J. L.” were found embroidered in a corner of
the handkerchief.

“ I must show this to my old nurse, Deborah
who really believes I saw a spirit last night,"
she said.

Just after this discovery, down came the rain,
and our young couple hurried to the carriages
which were to take the party to church this
Christmas morning.

The day flew by on light wings; for youth
and health, and love sped the hours quickly.

On the morrow, the large and merry assem-
blage at the Abbey discussed, with much ani-
mation, some amateur theatricals shortly to be
performed there, in which Delia was to sustain
one of the prinei a1 characters.

“I hope you’l be ready for the rehearsal,
Delia,” said her brother. “IVe’re all waiting
for on; and I don’t believe you’ve learnt a
wor of your part.”

It was too true; and Delis. declared that she
would shut herself up immediately in the li-
brary, and make up for past shortcomings.

“Now, nobody come near me for a whole
hour. Leave me undisturbed, and I will forget
everything but my part,” said she, gayly.

Lord Lindsay opened the door for her exit,
saying, in a ver{ low tone, “ Remember me a
little even thoug you are determined to forget
us all just now.”

She made as though she heard nothing: but
her heart beat fast as she entered the library.
And she did remember Lord Lindsay, his last
words and tones tor the first few minutes chas-

ing away all attention to the part she had to v

learn.

But she must compel herself to get the lines
by note, else what would Boggy say? So she
sat down resolutely, and fixed her eyes upon the
page. .

For some short time all was quiet in the
handsome apartment, and only the sighing of
the Winter wind made itself heard.

But suddenly the uiet was disturbed by a,
noise against one ofqthe long windows, which
opened onto the pleasure-grounds—a noise, it
might be, of a swaying bough against the pane,
or a signal from some person outside.

Delia looked n hastily.

It was yes ear . notth past five o’clock.

»-\s

4

hp- . - .

 

and the shutters in the library were not yet
closed. _

She approached the window at wluch the
sound was heard. and listened intently, im-
pressed with the idea that somebody was there,
while the remembrance of last night’s adven-
ture, and of the handkerchief found the morn-
in before, immediately rushed into her mind.

int she could distin uish no noise of footsteps
amid the sighing of e wind, and returned to
her book with redoubled attention.

Then, once more the tap at the window was
re ated—distinct and louder than at first.

clia tried to persuade herself that it was oc-
casioned by the swaying of a bough; but she
was pretty sure that no branch had ever reach-
ed that window before.

Determined to pay no further attention, she
read on. But again the persistent summons
roused her.

It was in vain she essayed to learn her part

perfectly, and rising. softly, she unfastened,
with a good deal of noise, the long French win-
dow, and looked out into the darkness.
‘ Gradually—for the moon struggled through
clouds—the outlines of the wintry world with—
out heeame visible; the dark belt of wood be-
yond the lawn, and the nearer shrubs and
trees.

“ if any one ta again, I shall now be able to
detect it!” thong t elia, watching, instead of
learning her pa rt.

But no summons was repeated, and Delia, a
little ashamed of having thought seriously of a
noise outside the wind0w on a winter night,
resolved to say nothing of the tap on the

lass.

g “Time is up, Delia,” said Reginald, peep-
in in,|laurrhingly. about ten minutes afterward.

‘And I am coming, Reggy. I have done
prett well,” answered she. .

“ at’s all right, then. Do come back With
me to the drawing-room now, or we shall have
Lindsay doing something desperate. He has
done nothing but fldget and look wretched ever
since you 1e t the room.”

“Pray do not be absurd, Reggyl” said Delia,
reprovixwly. “ It cannot matter to Lord Lind-
sa whet er I am in the room or out of it.”

This young lady was not well pleased to have
her love-affairs hinted at, when the were, as
yet, in this undeclared state. Her li 0’s happi-
ness depended on being assured of Lindsay’s
love; but she was ready to feign rofound in-
diflerence, even to her darling rother. till
what she hoped was made certainty by Lind-
say’s own words. .

‘ Oh, very well! Then I‘ve neither eyes nor
ears,” laughed Reggy. “ But, come alon' 1”

How often she looked back to these last ppy
hours, this last happy evening, in the sorrow
which rapidly overwhelmed her; the delightful
talk with Lord Lindsay, the cheerful group of
friends, the merry evening the gray dinner,
during which she sat by Lindsay’s si e, and he
wh red soft nothings which conveyed so
much to her. .

And once, lookl up, she caught a glance of
radiant happiness rom Fay’s blue eyes, and
knew that her joy was caused by Reggy’s deep
affection.

 

 

 

HAI’N’I‘ED HEARTS. 5

 

When—so few hours later—it la with her to
save that happiness from ruin, elia remem-
bered that glance. and resolved that she would
suffer alone, that Fay and Reggy should not be
so arated because she herself must mourn.

onder than ever was the hand-clasp Lord
Lindsay gave to Delia that evening, as they said
-nig t.

She was still dreaming of it as she went into
her own pretty room.

Her sweet musing was interrupted by the
voice of Deborah. ‘

“ 1 made hold to wait here for you, Miss
Delia,” said she, “for I’d somethin’ to ask you.”
D ‘i'Certainlyl Sit down, dear nurse,’ said

0 1a.

Deborah sat down, nothing 10th; but her face
was sad, and she was paler than usual.

“ Miss Delia,” said she, “ I wanted to ask you
if ’twas true what I heard them say in the ser-
vants’ hall this evening, that you’d found a
handkerchief near the spot where the appear-
ance came last night but one ago?”

“ How could forget to tell on!” cried
Delia. “Yes, nurse. dear, I did nd a hand-
kerchief. We were passing it round at luncheon
to find an owner for it. so then Isuppose the
servants heard what had happened.” ~

“That’s just it my dear miss! And you’ll
let me see it, won‘t you?”

“That you shall nursie; and I am so glad to
prove to you that it was really no ghost that I
saw that night.”

b “ I’m not so sure of thati” murmured De-

orah.

But Delia did not hear the old woman’s re-
mark; shehad risen to fetch the handkerchief.

. “Here it is,” said the young lady,

mg.

Deborah seized the piece of cambric; her fin-
gers trembled, and she eagerly searched for the
mark in the corner. .

It was easily found—J. L., embroidered.

Deborah continued to game on the letters so
long, that, at length, Delia broke the silence
with the remark she had made so lately.

“You see now, dear nurse, that it could not
have been a ghost that I saw.’

“0h, Miss Delia!” exclaimed Deborah, get-
ting up in great agitation. “ Oh, Miss Delia 1—
it’s very awesome to my mind! You mind, J.
L. were his initials—your brother James’a—him
you never saw! And this may be for a token,
who’s to tell?”

“M dear Deborah,” urged Delia, amazed at
her 0 d nurse’s credulity, “ surely an will
not let an accidental coincidence like ' make
you believe that there was any connection be-

tween my r brother, so long since dead, and
the handkerchief found yesterda morning?
Don’t you see that it must have longed to

somebod whose names begin with the letter: J.
D? An who ever heard of a ghost urging
about a cambric handkerchie , Very cely
marked, certainly i”

“ Don t joke, Miss Delia. I know it does seem
fiidignious to you; but still it maybefor a to-

en

“Giveme akin and gate bed,dear none,”

- said Delia.

 

O HAUNTED HEARTS.

 

Ana Deborah sighed, and left the young lady

to repose. .

W on she-was quite alone, when her mind
had closed the door for the ni ht, and the wind,
roaring without, only made t e contrast to her
cosey room more leasant, Delia drew aside her
curtains, and too a long look from the win-

ow.

She smiled at herself as she did so: but in the
moonlight, which now reigned supreme, no
figure in a slouched hat Was visible.

“ I must have been mistaken! Only how did
the handkerchief get there?”

With this careless question she dismissed the
inquiry, and sunk to rest with thoughts of Lind-
say.

 

CHAPTER III.
THE SECOND TAP AT THE WINDOW.

DUSK is cree ing again next afternoon over
the silent worl , and once more Delia sits in the
handsome library at the Abbey, learning her
part in the play.

Many joyous hours have intervened since this
time esterday; many a tender glance and
word rom Lindsay have penetrated the young
girl’s heart.

h More than ever is she assured that he loves
er.-

Yes, assured; such tones, such softly-breath-
ed words, could have but one meaning.

No trouble of heart mingles With this blissful
thou ht; but she half murmurs to herself: " We
shall as happy as Fay and Boggy.”

The propose rehearsal had been postponed
for a day or two, as Delia is obliged to confess
“that s e is afraid she is not perfect in her

art.

“I’ll shut on up till you do learn it, D.,”
an s Reginal , laughingly.

elia, repentant, promises eve thing.

And now she sits, as dusk is ’alling, in the
library. occupied in the same way as she was
about this hour yesterday.

It is a little earlier, it is true, and the gloom
without is weird and melancholy.

Do her thoughts wander from the page before
ger to the tap which came so lately to the win-

ow?

Unconsciously, perhaps: for when a footman
enters to shut out the hi ht. Delia looks up and
desires him to leave one s utter unfastened.

He wonders wh , but obeys.

She has succee ed in committing two pages
of her part to memory, and has forgotten the
interruption which troubled her yesterday,
when, all at once, when most unexpected, the
tap at the window is repeated.

An imperative. and yet an uncertain sum-
mons; and Delia, half-frightened, glances at the
window, herself unseen.

But from her seat she can distinmiish nothing.

The blackness of night reigns without, made
more intense b the brightness within.

“ It is absur to let such a small thing inter-
rupt me,” thought Delia, going on With her
task, when “Tap, ta , tap!” sounded with sol-
emn distinctness on t e Window-pane.

“ I will discover the cause,” thought she; and
noiselessly left her cosey seat by the fire. and
stationed herself close to the easement. There

 

she stood, listening for the e ted sound. And
it returned, “ Rap, rap!” against the window.
By one s‘wift movement, Deliaécapgzgred sud-
den y close to the glass, but star‘ k with a
smothered exclamation; for there, unmistak-
ably, was the same figure she had seen on
Christmas Eve, amid the snow!

It did not now retreat into the darkness, but
pressed close to the easement, making a mute
appeal. Desyvair seemed impressed on its whole
bearing, and this mingling of entreaty and de-
spair chained Delia to the spot immovable. It
was but a brief moment which passed thus;
then, as she would have fled away to summon
Reginald, the figure held up to viewa large lot-
ter, deposited it outside the easement, and van-
ished from sight.

The curiosrty of Delia was excited to the
highest pitch. By nature she was brave rather
than timid, and t e mystery of the affair alto-
gether urged her to seewhat the letter con.
tained.

The figure had vanished into the darknem,
but the white envelope was distinct enough
against the lass.

The win ow opened easily from within,
though it was secure from entrance without.
Delia put up her small white hand, slipped the
bolt, and in one short instant—almost before
she had time to feel the keen rush of cold air—
gad picked up the envelope and closed the glass

oor.

How strange an adventure? Would Reggy
say she had better not have taken in the letter?
She must get hold of him before dinner, and
th% would talk it ov: r to ether.

e young girl hurrie to her seat by the
fire, and broke the seal, noting, as she did so,
that the writing was bold and firm, and that
the letter was addressed to herself. One short
moment more, and, pale and changed, she hur-
ried to her room to read it alone. . ,

And as she fled, she felt as if haunted bya
Etrange dream, an unreality which clung to

er

Sinkin onto a couch in her dressing-room,
she unfo ded the pa r. It began, “My dear
Delia," and continue thus:

“ Let me entreat you to peruse this letter alone
and to carry your thoughts back to the fact that
there was a. time when a brother you never knew
kissed you—an unconscious baby of a year old—and
left his old house to battle with life in a foreign land.
Delia, my almost unknown sister, I am that brother
so long supposed to have died among the rairics of
North America. The world believes me «read: and,
ryeister, it must think so—I dare not undecr-ive it.
i e will keep this secret between us; for why should
I burden my young and happy brother with the
knowledge of m existence?

“Ah, no! I w H leave to you and to him in wide
inheritance, content to live in obscurity. live
broken-hearted, as I have merited.

“And why do I deserve this fate? Because—(to
you I must tell the undisgulsed truthI Delin)—be-
causoI have forfeited my position in be world: I
have placed mySI-ll', in a moment of wild frenzy,
Within reach of the law, and to proclaim my exist-
enco would be to set the officers 0 {mace after me.

“ You are so young that my child ood was passed
em you were born. Thus you know nothing of my
father‘s severity, nor of my own hot temperament,

I was born with this unhappy tlon Della an
circumstances made it worse. I tell a’monx’iilg

. You were a year old when I started.

 

HAUNTED HEARTS. 

 

companions, who led me into debt. N o wonder in
father was angry, for my two cars of college it e
fell henvil y enough upon him. gave wine-parties;
betted; gambled; I ordered e nsivs luxuries with-
out consideration of their cos My fatherwas not
then so wealth was he became afterward; but an
fortunewould-hnve been squandered at the rate
was living. But he paid my debts. and received my;
solemn assurance of amendment. And, Deli
meant to kl‘ep faith with him; but was so easily ed
astray—fool that I wasl

“ Wh n-olong the story? It wilI be enough if you
are toltfthe result of my mad conduct. Afters year's
misery, my father learned the truth—that I was
as heavily in debt as before. Can you wonder that;i
though he again discharged myliabilities. he woul
no longer believe my promises of reform? Delia,
ho was obliged team as he did—for at that time the
Abbey was under . and he did not then own

Mount‘s Castle, nor was it certain that he would ever .

becmne the owner of so lar e a property. And so,
as I had ruined my career 11 England, and spent a
fortune, he proposed that I should go abroad for
some years on a small fixed allowance, and try my
abilities in America.

“ l was willing enough to no: it Fave change and
excitement. Can on credit, Del a, that before I
landed I had gum led away all my ready money?

I wil not tell
you the many sera ies I not into; they were wild but
not un ardonable or theiirst few years. I like the
keen r of the Rocky Mountains, the excitement of
the hunting e. itions on the prairies. My father
remitted my owance of three hundred a ear regu-
larly; but you will understand that three undred a
year was nothing to a man who hadspent three thou-
sand in a few weeks.

“ Well, of course. I was always in debt. I gambled
and was often sucoessful; l speculated in cattle, an
reaped some profit—all at haphazard.

“One day, when I had been nine years in the far
West (my father had assured me that he could with
ditllculty retrieve his position in a dozen ears, so
much had my extravagance impoverish _ him), I
joined another man in a hunting expedition.
surname happened to be the same as my own—-
Larch. He was a saving fellow, crafty and business-
like—very different to me. I saw that if I could join
him lna s .culntio I should make money rapidl .
The only was, had not the sum necessary

pay down.

‘ To be brief over this painful part of my story,
Delia, I forged a check on a fellow I knew, intendi
to pay the money back. The latter and myself
been close friends; but when he discovered the cheat
I had practiced on him, his anger knew no bounds.
Bo pursued me into the prairie—I believing myself
secure.

“ Well, it so chanced that the poor fellow I had
started with was bitten by a rattlesnake and as we
had not brandy enough to dose him with, he died in a
few hours. Two or three others were with its—hired
men. I hired them; but they knew nothing of

me.

“ In my wild career I had done a kind action now
and then, when the fancytook me: and I had latex
saved a. man from dismce by ynient of 3 sm
sum. It was he who found me as: in time to warn
me of in former friend’s ursuing vengeance. In
a twinklfiig I had , escape. I abandoned
the hunting expedition settled with the fellows I
had hired, telling them that as poor Larch was dead.
I had no heart to go on—knowing well that they
would meet m pursuer and tell their tale.

“ And so he believed me dead. But he had his re-
venge, though unconscxous of it; for he knew all
about my connections in England, knew everything
concerning me, and would have rejoiced to expose
me had I been alive. He would do so now if he could
trace me: and he is s middle-axed man. Welland
p us. Now do you see. Dells. wh I have been
sileng during the eisht years which ve elapsed

 

since this happened! No, notquite yet; for youcan
never understand the deep horror I felt when I con-
sidered of whatIhad been guilty. Iwas a forger,
and judged myself unworthy of inheriting my
father‘s name and place. I sznd to m self, ‘Let my
brother take my position. The worl supposes me
dead; let me accept that as true. Myfamilyshali
feel no more disgrace from me.’

“But still another motive kept me silent, Delis.
That verfy night, when I thus managed to spread a
re ort o my own death, inseeking to evade a fellow
w 10 knew me, and to whom I owed money—that
very night I ot into aquarrel with him, and—in self-
defense, I so emnly assure you, Delia—stabbed him;
not so deep] as to cause his death, I hope devoutly,
I think, Ibe ieve not; but of this I am uncertain.

“I tied; changed my name; took to farming, and
prospered for a time. And I meant—I solemnly as-
sure you this, my sister—I meant to die silently, nor
ever to burden Eon-oh, you, least of alli—with the
secret of my ex tenoe.

“But a time came when I fell ill—very ill' and
when I recovered, 1 had to reco nize the fact that I
must live with impaired health e ceforward. The
fieople who employed me were alt a 's asking if I

ad no friends in England who would el me. And
then I thought that, in return for the i eritanoe I
willingly forfeit (have I not said how unworthy I
judge myself to possess in), you would secure to me
some fixed and modest pittance out of the thousands
you possess. Five hundred a yoarwould make me not
only independent. but give me comforts in my de~
ciining years. I am forty now, and feel that I shall
not len be a burden to you.

“But am in sore want of every necessary. I have
borrowed for my passa e to England. Can you at
once let me have a bun pounds, Delia?

" I cannot think that you will refuse, for that
would be to let me die of starvation, or else to goad
me into dcclarln my identity—in which case the
law would lay ho d of me; or there is still a last way
of escape for those who have neither mone nor
friends—win, to destroy myself. Shall it be so, oils.
or will? you come to my rescue, like an angel 0
mere

“ lfvyou will be such to me, give me your answer
to-morrow evening: at dusk, outside the library win

dow I know so well. Your despairing brother.
“ J nus

The letter fell from the hands of the fainting
Delia. It was well t-nat she was quite alone,
that no one came to intrude on her solitude just
then, or her secret must have been known—the
dreadful secret which was none of her mak-

in .

fitter a time, she roused herself suddenly. A
sort of desperation seized the girl. It seemed
to her that if she did not keep up the ap
anee that all was well with her just now, -
naid’s happiness must be forfeited forever. t
if she could be strong, just for a little while; if
she could laugh while her very soul was rent
with athousand agonies; if she could be brave
enough to utter a few gay words, and go out
and in among them all—then, it seemed to her,
that out of the frightful wreck of her own hs
piness she might save Reggy’s. He could

appy with Fay—he who would wed her in in-
nocent ignorance of the blot on the honor of
their name: but she herself could acoept the
hand of no honorable man—she who was now
aware that she had a dishonored brother. Was
he worse_even than dishonored? Had be taken
a man’s life? Not with premeditstion, per
but in hot anger, through wrong-doing!
horriblel Was it for the sisterof such a than
to wed Lindsay Deane? Never! neverl It

 

 

inn-u...

8" HAUNTED HEARTS.

 

would break her heart to the word which
would se to her from ' dsay' but honor,
to him she loved so well, bound her

fait

goyogvery tie to do so. After that she could
leave the Abbey; could die quietly in some soli-
tude abroad, and fieople would only say that
she had fallen into health.

“Oh!” she cried, startin up as she thought
this; “oh! can this dreadfu thin be true?”

And all at once she said to erself that it
might not be true—she would not give entire
credence to so wild a tale till she had proof of
it. But yet, in her inmost soul, she felt it must
be true. It tallied with some thin she had
heard spoken of her elder brother. ales of his
wild extravagance of their father being obliged
to send him a roa , had reached her, as wel as
the story of his death from the bite of a rattle-
snake. But still she said to herself that she
would demand further proofs. .

Giddy and tremblin , she remained in her
own room her mai came to dress her for
dinner and she descended to the large circle of
guests below on] at the last moment.

Reginald met er with a reproachful inquiry
as she entered, “ Where have you hidden your-
self so long! And our play, when is that to

00ny1!?" t 11 Re (1 ” h hispered
was no we , ear, s ew ;
and her troubled loo bore out her words.
“ Some one else must take :11 part in the the-
atricals. I should keep on waitingtoo long
forme. Hush! don’t ea fuss about it! Mrs.
Ashley is moving to go down to dinner.”

All through the evening which followed
Delia felt in a strange, unreal existence. Lord
Lindsay glanced at her with infinite concern.
Where were her enchantin smiles, her lively
talk—above all, that look of appy mirthfulness
that is so beautiful to see? In p ace of all this,
pain, combined with high resolve, sat now on

er outhful features; and once or twice he
can t the lint of tears under her long lashes.

hat did tmean? Was she in an trouble!
If that were so, how could her brot er, Regi-
nald Larch, be so gay and unconcerned?

“Will you for ve me for asking if there is
anythi which as distressed kKlan to-nighti”
asked dsa , in low tones, ta g the vacant
seat b her do.

“ at should trouble me, Lord Lindsay?”
said she, li htly, as she turned away.

But her ip quivered as she spoke, and her as-

t stirred a tumult of unrest in his heart, as she

gan to turn over some photographs on a table

near, without even seeing them, so greatly had
her sorrow absorbed her.

A little later in the evening, feeling it impos-
sibleto bear up any longer, she slipped away

from the y up in the saloon, and reached
her ownc am r. But she did not ate there
long; she out of it again, and own a

long corri or, throu h a swing door, which shut
on rooms which ha once formed the nursery
suit of rooms at the Abbey.

Old Deborah still occupied two of them, and
here Delia could be pretty sure of finding her
at this hour on a winter evening.

“Eh, dear! is it you, Miss Delia?” cried De-
borah. as the young girl entered. “ I am hon-

 

ored to see you here when all the gay visitors
want you down below.”

“ I am not well to-night, dear nurse; and have
come for a little talk with you.”

“ You’re more than welcome, dearMiss Delia.
Is there anything now that I can do for you i”

“Yes; talk to me about my brother James
who went abroad, and died there. You remem-
ber him Well, don’t you 7”

“ I nursed him as a baby; ’tisn’t like as I
should forget him, Miss Delia. He was tall
and broad-shouldered—a fine-looking gentleman
when he leftus all. Ah, dear! money 3 the root
of all evil, and it was on account of that he had
to o. my dear.”

‘ How so, nurse? Do on mean that he spent
too much? I have hear aunt Mary say that he
did. But I don’t exactly understand why he
had to stay so long away.”

“Poor Mr. James was extrava nt—awfnl
extrava ant; and got so much in ebt that for
a time 9 nearly ruined your poor pa. He
had to put down his ca an sell his
horses, and it was a great ef to our dear
mamma. She died three ears after . James
went to America, Miss De ‘ , and so was spared ,
the sorrow of hearin’ about his death out alone
in the far wilds. Ah, Mr. James! The
news of his death didn reach the Abbey for
months after it took place; but, naturally, when
he didn’t write to acknowledge the money
your papa sent him, and no letters came for so

long, then inquiry was made, and that was how

our oor papa found out that, without a doubt,

e’d ied hunting on the prairies, He’d spoken
in his last letter about this hunting expedition,
and said about how long he’d meant to be gone
afore he went back to any town, and mentioned
a person he knew well. And so, thro h that
letter, master traced what had happen .
’twas at in all the papers how that Mr. James
had ed from the bite of a snake—a rattle-
snake ’twas that killed him.”

Delia’s heart beat painfully. Everything De—
borah said agreed with the fatal letter which
had reached her in so mysterious a manner, and
which had uprooted all er innocent joy.

She did not ask many more questions, but sat
with her head on Deborah’s lap as she had so
often done when a little child. She seemed
frozen with horror at the dreadful knowledge
which had come to her.

When she arose to say good-night, Deborah
was alarmed at the sorrow on her ace.

“ I mustn’t talk about poor Mr. James agnln.
my dear Miss Delia, that: plain. It has made
you ill, I declare!”

When Delia reached her own room, she made
haste to shroud her despair in darkness and si-
lence. But she could not sleep' and When all
the large household was at rest, s e arose light-
ed her candles and sat down to “71638
ble, as the cloclr boomed three.

CHAPTER W.
m mason norm

Wna'r was shawrltinz thou" Her Wily
Eggers could hardly trace the words, but she

 

decided what must be done, and she did it.

 

HAUNTED HEARTS.

A..._._-..__.~... -—.—..~....... ._.-:;, aumww.

'l

 

“lfit be really so." she wrote—“ if you are actu-
ally my brother, I will not refuse to do a sister's
part, even though we are stringers. and must re-
main so. Give me proofs of w you advance, and
when I come of age, and have money in my own
control,athousand a ear sec to you
for life. More should yours if I could give it, and
still avoid the discovery you dread To me wealth
is all but useless for I shall the remainder of
my life in solitude if on can satisfy me of the truth
of your identity wit my su d dead brother.
Tiu I come of age, I can but vide with you my al-
lowance.

“ With this Iinclose five pounds. Let me find your
proofs tomorrow evening at the window where on
placed the letter I have from you, and you s all

ave flfty pounds at once. D. L."

And with this efiort the Sweetness of life went
out for the fair Delia. Lindsay loved her. and
she was bound by her very love for him to re-
ject his aflection. Lindsay loved her, and she
would have to speak the words which would
send him from her!

When mornin dawned, of all that 1
household of w ich she was mistress, De is
alone arose with an aching heart, weak and ill
With the shock she had received, but yet re—
solved to make an effort to join the party at
breakfast, and she hoped to make the plea of
headache account for her altered looks.

And she was successful, save where Lord
Lindsay was concerned for what can deceive
a lover’s eye! No headache could make the
sweet face of his beloved one wear such a look
of sadness; of that he was assured.

And there was a moment after breakfast, as
the group around the well- read board was
dispersing, when she met Lin refinance fixed
on her with anxious affection. hat was it
brought such an added touch of pain to her
brow as she turned away?

“ Shall you venture to walk to-dayi Would
not the air do you good?” said he, as be ob-
served her about to leave the breakfast-room.

“I think not,” she answered, with assumed
carelessness.

“ Not one turn in the grounds! Let me per-
suade you to try the remedy, and honor me by
taking me for your escort,” he.

But Delia had done with the loved compan-
ionship now. No more sauntering by his side,
as she had done but two short mornings ago.
Now all was changed for her, and she lived in a
world with a blac shadow over i into which
no man or woman must look. Let er, then, be
gareful not to drag Lindsay Deane into it with

er.

She left him then, with another courteous re-
fusal, and  he noticed with extreme con-
cern the anguish she sou ht to conceal.

And so, while Re and Fa went OR to-
gether on horseback this sunny ter morning,
which melted the last remnant of snow in the
most sheltered places, Della remained alone in
her room, frozen. despairing-

Lindsay, as unhap y as erself though in a
different way, wan ered in an out of the
house, counting the hours as they went by till
he should again see Doha.

At luncheon she did not appear. Mrs. Ashley
said she was  quiet to be quite well by
the evening. on d she be lute well by that
the? thought Lindsay—the 00k 0! pain zone

 

from that sweet brow, and the old carelem se-
renity reigning in its place?

All the long day went by for him without
Delia. Re 'nald went to see her, and so did
Fay and . Ashley; but she sent them all
away, saying uiet was all she wanted. They
did not seem armed about her. “She would
join them at dinner,” they said. And with that
seemed satisfied.

In the afternoon, as dusk crept on, Delia left
the shelter of her room, and went softly down
the wide staircase. She could hear the click of
billiard balls. That was well. The gentlemen
were doubtless in the billiard-room, the ladies
in the saloon. She should, then, find the library
untenanted, and be able to deposit her letter
outside the window.

Yes; her conjecture was correct. The lofty
apartment was glowing with firefight, and a
single ta r burned on a distant ta le, but no
one was here.

With rapid step she crossed the room, un-
fastened the shutter, unclosed the window, and
shaking from head to foot gave her letter to
the mercy of the night win .

Was it carried away? Was he, the unknown
brother, watching for it in the darkness? Sup-
pose that other hands than his found that let-
ter

l

She had shut the easement, but remained
watching—watching.

Not for long though. A re moved on the
other side of he long glass oor, stooped, rose
up again and was gone—the figure of a man in
a slouch hat.

Delia shuddered, and essayed to close the
shutter she had unbarred.

But that wastoo much for her feeble strength
now that she was trembling with dread an
fear. Again and again she made the effort,
however, for she did not wish to be asked to ac-
count for having unfastened the shutter.

In her haste she let slip the heavy bar; the
noise made by this prevented her hearing the
opening of the door; and she started with sur-
gfiise and apprehension as Lord Lindsay’s voice

r er:

“Let me close that shutter for you. pray, Miss
Larch! How pleased I am to see you l—to have
the hope of our oining us this evenin . I lit-
tle thought fin you when I came in ere.”

He had spoken With the glad surprise he felt
at this unexpected rencontre with his beloved,
and his joy gave place to uneasy astonishment
as he observed how disconcerted she was at his

resence.

Wh did she tremble? Why did she shrink
from iml She looked as if she had been star-
 interrupted in something she would fain

e.

But he quickly told himself that all she did
was fair and good and could not be otherwise.

“ Were you looking out at the night?” con-
tinued he, .smili down‘ upon her. “Shall I
open the wmdow or you a ain?”

“No, no!” cried she quic 1y shrinkin back,
and her voice full of ear. ‘ I mean,” e add-
ed, striving to resume her ordinary manner
and tone, ‘ that I won’t go on looking at the

sk .”
xDid you see the sunsetf’asked. be. comle

Feminist; r:'r:r..j::.s'::;m.. :.'.1'::v:x:‘.‘:.;j;.‘:z_&::ixs.:l .. .  _, ,.

 .__.... :r..;-....~.

.4: 1:12?“ z_‘:_....'_' z. .

~~_.-:- *m'h. .

10 HAUNTED HEARTS.

 

close to her side, heping to detain her if but a
few moments. It was so sweet to him to be
thus alone with her. Oh, that he dared feel
that this was the propitious moment to tell her
of his love!

“The sunset?” said she. “ Surely there was
no sunset to notice to-ni ht?”

“Yes, such a remar ble one. Miss Earle
meant to make on look at the sky.”

“Ah. yes— remember now!” exclaimed
Delia, hastily and confusedly, with the air of
one who strives to recall a forgotten circum-
stance. In truth, the trouble pressing upon her
had chased small occurrences away.

Lord Lindsay could not be] saying to him-
self, “What is it that absor s her, and why
was rshe so troubled at my appearance just
now

But the afl'ection he had for her overpowered
those minor questionings, and he said. in a tone
low and lover-like, “ I ad so looked forward to
to-day—to the happiness of spending some of it
with you! And t has been so long, for I have
counted the hours as they went by, use

our society was denied me! Are you reall
getter now? Were you goingto rest here 1;
dinner-time?"

“ I — I wandered down here for a little
change "stammered she. “1 will go and find
Fay. at I will not talk much now, or I shall
be stupid instead of agreeable this evening.”

“Never aught but agreeable to me l”breathed
he, softly.

And he had already im risoned her fingers in
his own—how unnatura iy cold they were!—
when the sound of Voices, the openin of the
door, the. entrance of Mrs. Ashley and ay, in-
terru ted him.

“ nee I dare not accept the love I feel that
he would offer if I permitted him, let me avoid
the dreadful of having to reject him in so
many words. ’ thought the unhap y it]. “I
will are him the mortiflcation; Will spare
mysel the task which would be too ,at for
me; I will avoid him, and he will un erstand.
It is but for a few days more !”

Several times that evening, as Lord Lindsay
sat by her side, did he detect the large tears
well to her eyes—tears which she forced hack.
Once, indeed the eflort was too great for her:
she had to rise hurriedly on some pretense to
conceal the telltale anguish in her face.
But a moment after she turned, and faced the
assembled party with some gay remark, and no
one detected her sorrow but e who watched
her so lovingly.

“She is grieving about so! ething-something

she is trying to conceal! Oh, that she would let
me share her unhappiness, and take all her cares
upon me!”

And then it was natural that he should ask
himself what secret cause of trouble she could
have. She, the heiress of Larch Abbey, with
the whole world at her feet! Who a§prouched
her without deference or affection? o one.

Mrs. Ashley tted, her brother adored her;
all the good g its of life were hers! But to
Lindsay Deane it was but too patent that there
was a secret sorrow cankering her life, and
what it might be, deeply concerned him to dis-
covet.

 

But Delia ave him no chance of that. She
was surroun ed b a laughing oup all the
evening, and the ext mornin rove out with
Mrs. Ashley; while, after lune eon, she disap-
peared altogether.

Where Were those ha y moments, once so
frequent, when his love or her was dawning in
sweetest ho 1 When she would linger willing-
] by his side, and shyly respond with smiles?
gone! Gone. almost as if they had never exist-
ed, save for the pained constraint she evidently
experienced now and the pang of sorrowful re-
act with which he remembered them. Would

ey return no more, or could they be wooed
back?

That was what he asked himself with infinite
solicitude as he walked about the grounds, rest—
less and moody, in the afternoon.

And Delia? If Lindsay’s unrest was sore,
how much more so was hers! The hours which
rolled away, bringing the dusk, were to bring
also the proofs of her eldest brother‘s existence.
and in so doing give her the indirect evidence of
his guilt—his unworthiness!

Suppose, too. the library should be tenanted,
as was often the case toward evening? How
should she se herself of the letter which
would, dou tless, be awaiting her outside the
window?

This was an added subject of anxiety.

As soon as darkness came creeping over the
January sky she left her room. (in which she
had remaine the whole afternoon), and sought
the librar . But she had hardly entered it,
when she ame aware that Lord Lindsay, her
brother Reginald. and one or two people be-
sides, were chatting round the fire.

Immediately she retired; without being ob-
served, as she imagined. But Lord Lindsay
had Seen her, and instantly followed into the
hall, in the hope of exchanging one precious
sentence with her; of getting some word, how-
ever scant, from her dear lilps.

She did not perceive that )0 had followed her,
and what was his surprise at seeing her go t9
the entrance hall, open the door (which was only
locked), and pass out into the cold air!

Uncertain what to do, not daring to follow
her, he stood irresolute; and as he hesitated,
asking himself what it meant, Delia returned
shivering, and as if suffering from sup resse
excitement. It was plain, also, that me was
greatly disconcerted at finding him awaiting

er there. But she strove to speak light] .

“When cne has a stupid headache, a ose of
fresh air sometimes does more good than any-
thing else,” said she, trying to smile—trying to
prevent her agitation from betraying itself.

He was silent, for she spoke with a f
smile, an assumed calm.

“But perha it was unwise to go Without
any wrap, an so late,” continued she. “How-
ever, it is but just five o’clock.” _

“Will you forgive me,” said Lindsay, ap-
roaching her, and speaking with infinite affec-
ion in' his voice, infinite tenderness looking out

of his eyes—“ will {on forgive me if I ask to
know what it is w ich troubles you—and—co
share it?” '

The avowal of the devotion he felt for her
trembled on his line; he lonaed to tell her that

“‘7 . a ,1 , ._,__ «. .3”- <m..\.-,.-  u-v ‘_'

HAUNTED HEARTS. ll

 

he was there thenceforth to take all. her cares
on himself, when she prevented his further

“ You are not to assume that I have troubles,
Lord Lindsa and 1 must not stay shivering
here, or I she soon have an undeniable trouble
in the shape of a cold.”

And she left him standing there, and ran up-
stairs. Left him with unspeakable anxiety and
pain in his heart. .

Delia carried with her even a (lee r grief
than his. She had rushed round at al hazards
to the library window, and there had found the
letter she sought. That was the weight she car-
ried, and with it misery without end in this life.

She burst into uncontrollable tears when in
the retirement of her own room; and as soon as
she could still them, took out the fatal letter, or
rather the packet, for such it was.

Bending down before the bright flre blazing
in the polished rate, her shaking fingers sepa-
rated the many etters in the parcel.

What were they? Oh she discerned, easily!
Full well she recognized the handwriting of a
dear old aunt, now abroad for the winter. Here
were many of her letters, sent years since, to
her nephew James in America. She had always
corresponded with him, and would remember
him well. Here was proof, indeed!

But the letter from her outcast brother con-
tained many proofs. for in it he alluded to much
that it was impossible for any stranger to have
, known.

And there were fletters from her father and
his—Delia knew the writing well. Could she
cherish a doubt any longer! Alas! she knew
now that she could not.

The letter from her brother himself was as
follows:

“ If these inclosurcs are not conclusive proof, what
other can I offer you? But can you doubt that I am
indeed your brother, Delia?——crring, indeed, but suf-
fering and repentmu, and still your brother!

"See me but oncewI have no right to petition for
more than one interview; and We can then arrange a
way in which you mn transmit to me money for
my pressing wants. an must see that it is impos-
sible we can correspond in this way. Any one may
find our letters, or may see you or me at the library
window, and then all sorts of surmises might arise,
unpleasant to yourself. Let me persuade you. then,
to grant me one interview—1th; your own brother
who implores it. 'l‘o-InorrowI Will be in the deer-
shcd in the park, in the hope that ou will come to
me there, and in a. few moments wi ldo more toward
arrangin' future matters than could many letters.
I will be iii the deer shed at (-lcven o‘clock.

“Oh, Delia! do not fail your wretched brother!
And do one thing before you come to settle ‘onr
last doubt as to my identity. There must sure y be
several of my letters to my father still in exi.~tenee.
Compare these with the writing in this note to '01],
and you will find the similarity, even though a m.
ken wrist has disabled me from entirely preserving
the firm hand I onca wrote.

“ Your troubled and unhappy brother.
‘Juss LAMB."

The last he was over for Delhi.

Kneeling t ere in the flrelight, with ever
luxury surrounding her, she felt the cold c ' l
of actual despair.

“He has slain a man, perhaps! And is a
torserl” she went on. murmurmz to herself:

 

“ and I—I am his own sister! What right have
such as I to the love of Lindsa Deane?”
Overwhelmed with grief, s e knelt on, for-
getting all the passing events of the hour.
Her maid’s summons at the door first roused

er.

“ Iknocked ten minutes a o, miss, but you did
not bear but it’s just wit m a quarter of an
hour of dinner, and I was afraid there would
be no time to dress you.”

b Delia sat passive as her maid rearranged her
air.

That individual, afterashort cough or two,
ventured a remark.

“There’s been great excitement in the ser-
vants’ hall to-night, miss; and I’ve made hold to
tell on, because of the handkerchief which
was ound, miss, and the figure you thought you
saw on Christmas Eve.”

Delia felt a chill run throu h her.

“What of that?” she ask faintly.

“Why, miss. the under footman, John
going round with a message to the stables Just
after dusk, and he’d nearly reached the hack
court, when all at once he saw a. tall figure. as
black as ni ht, in a sort of wide—awake hat,
glaring on im with a wild stare. John was
that terrified, he’d no heart to seize him; and
now some of the servants say ’tis a ghos miss,
and that ’twas well John left him alone.’

Delia could speak no word in reply.

Her color came and went painfully.

“ I'd no intention to frighten ou, miss,” said
the maid, noticin her young lady’s agitation.

“Does John be leve it was a ghost he saw?”
asked Delia, faintly.

“ I’m not sure, miss,” replied the maid.

Delia never knew how she got throu b that
dreadful evening. If she had been esitat-
ing about meeting her elder brother, this '
talk with the maid would have decided her to
consent to the interview. He must not hover
about the Abbey, and run the risk of detection.
For what might not follow on detection? Trial
for forgery! trial for a far worse crime!

The thought was agonizing to dwell on!

When the morning dawned Delia had lived
through ages of misery.

She had resolved to see her brother, to give
him all the money she had by her, and to show
him the necessity of fixing his residenca far
from his old home.

During breakfast she could barely d to
the remarks addressed to her; but she lt con-
strained to join the family circle at the morning
meal, otherwise, if she pleaded illness and yet
was seen leavingethe house for a walk so early
as some time fore eleven o’clock, it would
naturally awaken comment.

Reginald and Fay, both extremely happy,
were arranging plans for the day; Mrs. Ash ev
reading her many letters; the rest of the visi-
tors engaged in breakfast, newspapers and con-
versation, when Delia left. the room for the
dreaded interview in the deer-shed.

No one observed her quiet departure save
Lord Lindsay: he was watching her with lov-
ing and despairing eyes. “

..  '.   54).... c..,

.21... .r.-;- _-’ . . a.

. 77,19. . ., ,3-..,.; T, ; ,, ‘4, s... .h. u n!

I! HAUNTED II EARTS.

 

CHAPTER V.
ran: INTElsVIEW.

Sm: had ut on a fur cloak and hat. and car-
ried the fl ty unds she was to give her out-
cast brother. 0 do this she would have to go
well—nigh penniless for the next three months;
for, not being of age, she had as yet only her al-
lowance of three hundred a year for dress and
charities, her brother éon the decease of her late
guardian) managing or her the funds of the
Larch Abbey estate.

But Delia thought nothing of the money;
even the dread of meeting her unknown and
outcast relative was swallowed up in the ab
sorbing desire that no one should see whither
she went this momin .

Breathless and terrified, she passed down the
sunny carriage drive, then made a curve out of
sight of the house to enter the park. But this
was a round which would consume at least
girty minutes, and it was now turned half-past

n.

In her alarmed state, eager to get the inter-
view over, she left the broad drive, in order to
walk acres the thick, wet grass, which was so
laden with moisture as to be nearly as watery
as a river.

Delia hesitated one instant, then struck across
the greensward.

A voice behind arrested her progress.

“Miss Larch, let me beg of you not to risk a
cold. The grass has never been dry for the last
two months. ”

It was Lord Lindsay who spoke, and now
stood beside her. He was unprepared for the
look of dismay—nay, more than that, the ter-
ror she betrayed.

She grew pale; trembled visibly; essayed to
speak and could not pronounce a word.

At last, forcing a smile, which nearly wrench-
ed his heart in twain, she stammered out:

“1 do not mind wet grass. I could not live
in the country without crossin it ever day.”

“ But such grass!” )crsisted e. “ on must
have wet f’eet alrea y, no matter how thick
your

“Whoever heard of wet boots being hurtful
while one is walking?” exclaimed Delia, with
difllcularepressinga shiver of cold and pain.
“It is riding about in them which is danger-
ous, so I will go on quickly. Good-by for the
present, Lord Lindsay. I am bound for a long
we .

i In truth, she hardly knew what she was say—
ng.

“ If you are resolved to go on, let me at least
haVe t e—the happiness of accompanying you?”
urged he, persuasively, adoring] v.

“ Certainly not,” replied Delia, in des ir.
“ I shall never get back if I stay talking ere.
Once more, good-by, Lord Lindsay.”

And she walked on eguicklfi.

“Stay 1” he implor . “ iss Larch—Delia—
spare me a few moments. You cannot guess
how I have looked for a chance such as this—a
few moments—to tell you something of which
my heart is full.”

“ 1 can sta for nothing r.ow," she faltered,
with a wretc ed attempt to speak lightly, to
seem at ease. -“ See! I am shiverma; that 13 be-

 

cause I am standing in damp boots. So, now I
am off, and forbid you to follow me.”

And she left him, without looking back.

Lindsay Deane stirred not.

What could she mean? Why did she persist
in leaving him? Why was she in such a tremor
at meeting him there? And what madness led
her to wade through the sopping grass, rank
and thick enough to make an one avoid it?

She had forbidden him to ibilow, but he lin-
gered still where she had left him, regardless of
the cold.

Slowly, and with misery at heart, coupled
with a vague uneasiness, he re incd the plea-
sure- rounds, and then stood still again.

Su< denly with a gesture of despair, he went
out into the high road which skirted the
grounds, and began to walk at a rapid pace.
And as he went, his eyes tunied restlessly in the
direction of the park where Delia had left him.

All at once he caught sight of her again—at a
good distance 03, it is true; but he could plain-
ly distinguish that it was she, and that she was
hurrying along in a dip of the ground, quite off
the path, where, at this season, the saturated
grass must make walking a nance.

In amazement he checked is pace and watch-
ed her.

She went on swiftly in a straight course;
then, abruptly turning at right angles, made
for the deer-shed.

And now we will 0 back to Delia herself,
whose excitement he become so great that she
entered the rough shed as pale as a host, and
could not control her sobs, while she 5 00k from
head to foot.

Her startled glance around met no one; but
she had barely time to lean for sup )ort against
the door, when a figure came slow y into view
from the dim recesses of the shed.

A tall well-made, muscular man, about forty
years 0 age, broad-shouldered and dark, who

ad been handsome, but who now looked worn
and tired—iii all thin s answering the descrip-
tion of her elder brot er.

“Delia!” said he, in a hollow voice, approach-
ing her.

He did not put out his hand; he was sad. and
his large. mourni'ul eyes seemed to ex )ress,
“Though I am your brother, I am unwort y to
clasp your haii .”

Delia‘s sobs became, for a moment, uncon-
trollnble.

“ Hush, my sister 1” he breathed, softly.
“For one moment let me call you so. Are we
not to part forever again after this interView?
Let me, then, ask {on a few questions in this
only chance which can ever hope for of learn-
ing some things my heart yearns to know.” .

‘Take this first!” were the words which
broke from the agonized Delia. “There are
fifty pounds. I shall be unable to let you have
any more for three months; but then 1 Will send

' you seventy.”

“Oh, Delia! how good you are! You have
saved me from despair!” said he. as he received
the. money.

Shi- made a strong cfl'ort at self-control, and
added: ,

“ We may be interrupted; so We must settle

{’2

first the most necemary things. You must do—
cide on an address where remittances may
reach you, and you must leave this neighbor-
hood. The, servants have seen you already.
Happily, Deborah is credulous, and has a fixed
idea that your spirit haunts the Abbey; but
that will not save you from ultimate discovery.
You must leave the place at once.”

“Yes, yes: you are right, Delia!” he return-
ed, mournfully. “And see—I have written
here my assumed name—‘ Robert Roberts ’—
and the address of my present lodgings in the
next village. But I have resolved to go to Lon-
don, where I can best hide myself, and my woes
and sins. Take this paper, my poor sister, and
never, never may you know a suspicion of the
agony which tears my soul as I stand here, an
outcast, seein my old dear home in the dis-
tance, which dare never reenter: seeing you,
my only sister, close to me, face to face, after
such an absence, and yet not daring to give you
one embrace.”

Delia. wept anew; but she did not respond to
the affection his words implied.

She could feel nothing but terror and pity for
this stranger-brother, whom she had never met
before, and who had wrought them all so much

woe.

“ Will on not take this paper with my ad-
dress, Do is?" asked he, presently.

She put out her hand; and, as their fingers
met, she involuntarily shuddered.

“ Ah !” he exclaimed. “ It is well we should
not meet again; for it istoo much for me, Delia,
towitness your aversion. I have deserved it.
I am far from denying that. But there are
things ve sha to bear, even though well do-
served. {you w: pass your life in ease, sur-
rounded b friends and all that makes life
bright, in the dear home from which I am ban-
ished. You are so well guarded from sorrow,
that you can realize but a faint idea of what
my lot is, and must be.”

‘Sta I” cried Delia, roused by the misery she
was cal ed to bear in silence through his reck-
less wrong-doing. “Perhaps no one can do
wron Without putting another to pain. I
woul not reproach you. I do recognize the
misery of your lot; but have I nothing to bear?
Did I not tell you that I should live in solitude
if you proved your tale! Is it nothing, that I
should have to renounce a happy love—a life
with nothing to conceal? I love some one bet-
ter than my life, and have made him wretched
as myself. I renounce his affection. I shall
live in continual sorrow, because I dare not let
him marry me. How could I do so, now that
our name is dishonored! And 1 must bear this
sorrow in silence, and never speak of it. Is all
this nothing i” o

“ 0h, Delia,” he cried, “ you must not do this
thin ! The world believes me dead. Have I
not n buried virtually for eight years past?
You must not do this thing!”

“It is done." she answered, more calmly.
“But I have risked much in coming here—very
much. Ask me anything you Wish, as quickly

n

as e.
"Tell me, then, of the old place i” he cried.
“Does my father’s portrait still hang in the

 

HAUNTED HEARTS. IS

same room as when I was a boy! Is it in the
library, op to to the fireplace?”

Delia n ded assent.

“ And does his favorite chair still stand by the
old writiu -table he had there?”

' “ Yes,” 8 c said, faintly.

“ And the look of the rooms—has new furni-
ture altered their aspect, or are they the same!
0h, Delia is there no way in which I miggt
gain one ast look at the dear old place? t
me cross its sacred threshold once more.”

“ You ask what is beyond my power, beyond
my strength,” she murmured.

“ My heart hungers to see it again,” he said,
pleadingly. “ Think of some way, Delia, by
which I may gain one fleetin sight of my own
old home before I exile myse f from it forever.”

“ It must be at your own risk then,” faltered
Delia. “ Oh, think of your life which you
vioul’d imperil if discovered, and do not ask
t is.

“ Your exiled brother implores it—it is a last
prayer!” urged he.

Poor Delia, reproaching herself for hardness
of heart, faltered out that she could devise no
plan unless she admitted him for a brief mo-
ment to the library while some amateur theat-
ricals were going on.

“ And now I must leave you,” said she; “ and
this interview cannot be repeated. It shakes
metoo much to have to eontrive how to hide
my actions.”

‘ Good-by, then, my sister. May blessings
follow you all through your life for the mercy
you have shown to your brother!”

“ Good-by l” faltered she.

And then she left him, and retook her way
homewards, feeling that she was indeed forever
separated from Lindsay Deane.

 

CHAPTER VI.
mammal).

ALL through the long, damp went the
unhappy girl, so early robbed 0 her youthful
Eloy by the hand of him who should have been

er protector. 0n she went, a teth of grief
in her young soul, unconscious that Lindsay’s
eyes were watching her movements.

Dared he meet her as she regained the Abbey
gardens? For what reason could she have
sought the deer-shed, wading through what was
almost a river?

“Has she some pet animal there, which she
went to see?” was his next thought, as his eyes
wandered to the distant shed.

The next instant a dreadful chill seemed to
take the life out of his heart, as he observed the
figure of a man slink out of the ro h shelter,
and reacha slanting th which led im in an
0p ite direction to t at pursued b Delia.

as'thw why she betrayed sue terror at
meeting hiinsel ? Did she—oh, perish such a
thoughtl—dld she go to meet some secret, un-
acknowledged loveri Who was the man he had
seen! He was at such a distance from the spot
where Lindsay stood that it was impossible to
determine whether he were a workman or a
gentleman.

“ After all. I may be accudpg Delia, my Own

14 HAUNTED HEARTS.

beloved Delia, wrongfully! The man may be a
keeper—that, doubtless, must be the (‘Xllialia‘
tionl How could i torture myself and wrong
my darling by such a. suspicion as I harbore
for a moment?’

He drew a deep breath of relief ; the sky
which had seemed black in his moment of de-
spair once more assumed its natural hue, and
his step grew lighter. “Only why, why did
she betray such evident agitation at meeting
me? Am I anything or nothing to her, who is
all the world to me?

He would not venture to intercept Delia as
she regained the Abbey, but he watched her till
the lust flutter of her robe disappeared within
the entrance.

Never had two hours appeared to him so un-
ending as those which intervened between mid-
day and two o’clock. He longed to see Delia
again—would she appear at luncheon?

Yes, she came in with Fay. They were dis-
cussing the projected theatrical performance
which was tocome off to-merrow evening. say
was to take the part once assigned to Doha, and
both the irls were merry over it.

Ccuids estili laugh? Desperation makes us
ready to assume an disguise for our sorrow,
and so Delia laughe . But as she sat op )osite
to Lord Lindsay, a swift pang smote his ieart
as he silently regarded her, there was such a
pitiful expression of deep-seated pain on her
young face as she relapsed for a few moments
into silence.

When the party rose from table, Lord Lindsay
ventured to say to Delia, aside, “You did not
take cold, I hope, this morning?”

Delia answered, with a smile, “No; why
should I? Fay, do come and tell Lord Lindsay
that rls brought up in the country are not
afrai to walk a little way on the grass even in
winter-time!” _

And then she drew F3 away with her, de-
claring that there was at“ much to arrange for
the theatricals.

Lindsay was in despair. Must be leave the

‘ Abbey without declaring his love? Why, that

was what he had chiefly come there forl

His father and all his family were aware of
his affection for the beautiful heiress of Larch
Abbey, and would be beyond measure delighted
if he succeeded in his suit.

But success seemed as far of! as ever from the
young man. Nevertheless, he said to himself,
as he tried to hear his disappointment with a
manly front that he would certainly declare his
devotion to her in plain words to-morrow even-
ing; for then he would surely find a moment to
breathe that devotion in her car, while the ama-
teur rformance was goin on. Having formed
whic resolution, be tried bring patience to
his aid for the hours which intervened.

The whole afternoon was occupied with a re-
hearsal, and servants were coming and going in
all directions; for the ball-room at the Abbey,
which opened into a room used as a breakfast-
room. was on this occasion to do duty as a thea-
ter, the numerous guests being seated as specta-
tors in the smaller room.

Delia did not go out at all next day, nor was
there a single moment when Lindsa could find

her alone. She appeared entirely u up with

 

the coming amusement; but Lord Lindsay said
to himself, with a cruel pang, that she was
hiding some grief under her light words and her
smiles.

The day were on. Dinner was a full hour
earlier than usual, to give time for the theatri-
cals to commence at half-past ei ht.

Fay, who was to figure as a reek princess,
came down to dinner in costume, as did also the
other ladies who were to take part in the ac ting;
and there was much laughter and merry-making
during the repast.

But there Were two who sat among the care-
lessly merry arty that evening whose hearts
were torn Wit anxiety—Lindsay’s, who opined
that this time to-morrow he would know his
fate; and Delis, who said to herself over and
over again, “ Oh, that it were over! How shall
I bear it to the end ?”

Lord Lindsay was to know his fate still sooner
than he had counted on, and the end for the un-
happy and innocent Delia was to come earlier
than she had dreamed.

“ Now I hope we shallall cover ourselves with
applause,” said Reginald, as they rose from
table. “ Fay, do you feel like royalty in your
ro al robes? ’ .

ay declared that she did, and that she should
be most unwilling to descend to ordinary life
again among ordinary mortals; and then went
off in haste with her train of attendants.

And now the rumble of wheels was heard,
and the people invited for the performanco be-
gan to arrive.

Delia stood by Mrs. Ashley’s side, and wel-
comed them as they came in, and smiled at each
one, and spoke a ga word, and showed her
visitors where they a ould sit; and not one of
them guessed that she carried a load of pain al-
most too great for mortal to bear alone.

At length all the expected ests had arrived;
the actors were allready, the amps were turned
down to give a dim light—for the first scene was
to be enacted in semi-darkness—and Delia could
slip awa unobserved

So, at east, she behaved. Now was the mo-
ment to admither brother James. There would
be no other opportunit for that hurried 1001: at
his old home for w ich he so earnesz im-
plored.

She went softl and swiftly to the library
the door of whic stood open. A fire burne
dim in the grate, but gave plenty of light for
her‘to open the window at which she had first
found the fatal letter.

All were so occupied with the theatricals
that no one would discover, in all probability,
either her own brief absence, or her brother’s
hast survey of the library. I

ien the second act began she would return
to the room and close the window.

Yes; now was the time! And with more con
fldence and calmness than she deemed possible,
she went upon her errand.

And Lord Lindsay, sittin there among the
spectators, had likewise sai to himself; “NOW
is In time!”

\ ith a heart throbbin painfully fear pre-
dominating over hope, 6, too, left the gay
throng silently. ’

For an instant he paused ere he pursued Delia

HAUNTED HEARTS. 13

 

——paused to recall a happier time, to give him
courage to ‘u-ll her of his love; a time when she
willingly lingered by his side, instead of avoid-
ing him; a time when he could not help noting
that a sweet and timid happiness stole over her
enchanting face at his presence. “’hat had
changed this? Well, he was to know that very

soon.

So he told himself as he passed down the cor-
ridor leading to the library.

She entered. Could anything be more pro-
pitious to his wishes?

“At last. I shall find her alone; at last. she
will not, she cannot refuse me a moment to tell
her of my afl'ectionl”

“ Delial”

Her sweet name was on his lips as, treadin
softly, he entered the dimly-lighted room. Bu
the word died away unspoken, and he stood
breathless, speechless with immeasurable woe.

She had unburied the shutter and turned the
handle of the glass door. “ Now—now!” he
heard her say; and then a man appeared within
the apartment.

Lord Lindsay7 had not intended to act the
spy; he had on y obeyed the impulse of his love
in pausinga moment ere he crossed the room,
and astonishment had done the rest. The little
scene passed so rapidly, the heaven-born hopes
in Lindsay’s heart died out so instantaneously
andso cruell , that he had not the power to
move before 6 knew all.

All? Nol—‘that he did not know. What his
eyes assured him of was that Delia—his Delia,
whom he had worshiped, before whom his heart
had bOWed down as before a divinity—was
meeting some one in secret. That must mean
that this unkn0wn lover (who but a lover could
it be?) was unrecognized by her brother—by her
friends. She was then, doubtless, about to
make asecret marriage! He wasnothing to her
any more! But he loved Deha too truly not to
make an effort to save her.

Stunned though he was by pain and grief, he
retired as softly as he had entered; but it was
impossible for him to rejoin the gay group he
had left.

Going to his room he rung for his servant,
and gave directions that his things should be
packed, as he had to leave for home suddenly.

“ There is a train a little before eleven o’clock
which we must catch, Jones. Manage to gel
me a trap to take me to the station without in-
terrupting the {wrformancef’

“hes, my lord,” returned Jones. 'evously
disappomted to be called away fromt 1e Abbey,
where so much merrymaking was going 011'.

Lindsay sat down and wrote two hasty notes
to Mrs. Ashley and to Reginald Larch, making
his excuses and his adieux, and expressing his
regret at being suddenly called away—well
knowing that they would each infer that he had
pro sed to Delhi, and been rejected b her.
An then he wrote a letter of another kind, to
Delia herself. It was this:

“Forgive this earnest warning—this urgent ap-
peal from one who loves you as disinterestedly as
ever man loved woman.

“Delia! I think you have guessed my love,,and
once I dared to hope that I could have Won you
101‘ In! own. And now. when that hope is gone. I

 

Q

appeal to you by that love, which is stronger than
my life. to pause—if you can yet pause—in the
course which must lead to misery. Think, Delia,
whether any honorable man would come steali
into the house unwelcomed by your brother egg
your friends! Your own sense of right will tell you
it would not be!

“ I had followed you to-night to the library with
the determination to tell you in words what you
must have divined long ago~that my heart was
yours only, and forever; and then I saw that man
whom you admitted.

“Oh, Delial has be bound you by some promise
you fear to break? if so,let me take the place of an
elder brother, and arrange matters for on if they
are capable of bei arran (1. Let t lover of
yours come into the ight of ay: verty, or a bum-
“; pssition, arenot insurmountab e ohstaclestotrue

EC 10!].

“You see l plead no longer for myself; let that
give ou courage to honor me with your eonfiden
and Will be your negotiator with your brother an
with Mrs. Ashley. For you are not happy. Delia; let
me then—now as a friend alone—let me strive to or
der things so that you may become so.

“I implore you to let me aid you. or else to con-
flde in your brother. Yours devotedly,

“ Lmusar Dun."

Such was the letter he left behind, and then
he rose and summoned his servant. As be de-
scended the stairs bursts of laughter smote his
ear. The actors were receiving rounds of ap-
plause.

_ Delia, leaning] against the doorway, caught
sight of him as e passed through the ball; but
made as though she observed him not.

And thus he left Larch Abbey, and the un-
happy girl noted the noise of the wheels rolling
from the door, and then dying away.

CHAPTER VII.
DELIA’S NEW GRIEP.

THE guests were all gone; the ap lance"
all over; the banquet which fol owed' the
theatricals had been crowded with guests, and
Lord Lindsay’s absence was long unnoticed by
any but Delia. And then Reginald’s regret at
his friend’s sudden departure was freely ex-

ressed; but Mrs. Ashley was silent about it,
or she inferred that Delia’s rejection of his
hand was the cause.

But gayety and regrets were alike over for
that evening; midnight had long since tolled,
and Delia’s aching head and aching heart were
in solitude, when there came a tap at her door.
It was her maid, who reentered with a note.

“Oh, if you' please, miss, Lord Lindsay de-
sired this note to be given you to-night.”

Delia’s pale face grew flushed with a rose
tint as she received the letter. The door closed.
she was again alone, and then she eagerly read
Lindsay’s words.

Let us not try to give an idea of the young

'rl’s trouble of heart. To be an by
indsay of being in danger of making a secret
marriage was almost too dreadful to be borne.
She seized a pen, and wrote:
“ Luzon Aaanr January —.
“ Dam Loan LTNDHAY: ’

“I should bewithont feeling if I did not alum
you in the most solemn manner that the danger you
fear for me, and from which you would guard me,
does not enst.

“Let me thank you for your kind we and at
the same time express my sincere regret you

 

‘4

 

should ever have suffered 'hny unhap lness on my
account; but as, unfortunate y, this as been the
case,dvlve twill not meet tillec carii do 5:) on a merely

on 00 . ours B nCPl'f‘ ,

m y mg ‘ “Dani's Linen."

How cold the words, while her heart was

lowin with love for him! And he suspected

er, De la Larch, of having a clandestine lover!

Could Fate strike her a harder blow? She
thought not; but she was mistaken. Fate and

she had not fought out as yet their battle to-
gather.

When morning dawned she was wholly un-
able to leave her bed; but that excited no com-
ment, the lateness of the hour when she had re-

tired after the theatricals being sufficient ex-
cuse for her non-appearance at breakfgst.

And there she lay, hopeless, doing othing—
caring to do nothing.

But even for Delia there was something which
demanded action, as she remembered presently.
She must st her letter to Lord Lindsay her-
self; and s e rose, and went out into the Village,
without telling an one her errand.

As she return to the Abbey her misery
seemed to press on her with new force; for
Lindsay was gone, and though she was as much
parted from him in reality yesterday as to—day,

at it was sweet to see him, and to know that
e loved her.

And now he would learn to despise her!
How could he accept her poor assurance that
what he believed was without foundation? She
had pflered no explanation, and could offer
none

One sole and onl consolation was left her—
her great sacrifice ad secured Reginald’s hap-

iness. Would time, as it rolled on, reserve
his for her—this one last solace? 11! she
thought that this at least would be granted to
her saddened heart!

And as she thought thus, she entered her own
grounds, keeping well out of view of the house

striking along a uestered walk in the
s rubbery, for she drea ed meeting visitors in
her present mood.

Their guests were to leave the Abbey this af-
ternoon ; and it was well, thought Delia.
Reginald too, was leaving soon on a visit to Sir
Crofton Earle, Fay’s uncle, who had adopted
her, and with whom she lived. Reginald and
Fay were to be married at Easter, which fell
early this year and the bride-elect had her
trouueau toorder and her bridal to arrange.
Thus, for a short time, Delia would be alone
with Mrs. Ashley; but they were both to go to
London soon, as Delia had not yet been pre-
sented at Court.

The ‘chill winter wind was scarcel felt by
Delia as she took her way through t e shrub-
bery, for the cold at her own heart overpowered
every other sensation.

She had used a moment in her restless
walk, when amiliar tones struck her ear—those
of her brother Reginald. .

His back was toward Delia, and he stood in
the most secluded nook of this retired part of
the grounds, while -— could she believe her
sensesi—ho was completer absorbed in conver-
sation with avery young girl (she looked barely
fifteen). whose hand he was holding in his own.

 

10 HAUNTED HEARTS.

Transflxed, Delia remained irresolute. Re -
nald—Reginald who was engaged to Fay—to
conversing with this village girl in secret! But
gerbaps he could explain this meeting, only it

d appear so like a secret one out here, where
he so rarely came. Fay, too was to leave the
Abbey to-day, and usually lie grudged every
moment passed away from her; and now, just
when she was leaving, he was here! Perhaps
business had called him to the spot. But what
business could he have with this village girl?

“One thing I must impress on you. What-
ever hag ns, I must see you again, and to-
night. , what agonies I shall suffer in the
meantime !”

Had she heard arighti Was this her brother
Reginald saying thisl—her brother, so trusted
and loved by her! If there Were no explana-
tion of this dreadful thing, better that she
should lay down her head and die, and not
struggle any more.

Reginald and the village 1 still remained in
earnest talk, but Delia h nothing more: and
as she stood llbound, her young brother

walked away s owly, the rl accompanying
him, treading soft] on the n as. And
thus the pair vanis ed from her si 

It was nec that Delia shou d rouse her-
self, for some 0 their visitors were to leave
soon, Fay amen the number, and she must be
there to say g -b to each.

And then—then s e would lose not a moment
in seeking Reginald, and entreating him, by
their mutual love for one another, to tell her
the truth.

IHe owed it to Fay, to every principle of
right, to carry on no underhand correspond-
ence with a irl such as the one she had seen.

Was it to e her dreadful fate to live to know
th'ti‘iilboghmlfiar brtothers could be diishonorablei

e e o aproac ng eras-tare r-
vaded the Abbey aspshe reéntered t. p0

When she reached the drawing-room, Mrs.
Ashle was standing near the fireplace with a
distur countenance, and Fay was in tears.

if? one else  $101 the room.

am so g a see you, in dear Delia!”
began Mrs. Ashley, in a voice ofydistrees. “ Do
come and try to comfort Favoretta, and explain
thin to us.”

“ hat thing‘s!” asked Delia, herself wonder-
lug what had ha pened.

nd tm'nin Fay she said, “What has
troubled you, ear Fay?”

“ Oh i” exolaimed the young girl, tryin hard
not to seem too much overcome. “ Mrs. gabley
must not make you nsgppose that anything as-
tonishing has occu , or that there is a rea-
son for conjecturing some disaster, because
your brother writes to bid me and all Of 118

ood-b , instead of seeing us himself. It seems,
rom h s note to me, that he has had to leave
the Abbe suddenly for London on busines, so
he writes is adieux, as time and trains wait for
no final”

‘ s e nald ne—to London then!” stam-
mered Dale. go ,

“. Yes, so it seems,” replied Mrs. Ashley;
while Fa , striving not to let her tears fall, was
reading or the sixth or seventh time the few

.. ._.-_..._...n..-_..- _. ._ . . h.--

.2.

HAUNTED HEARTS. i7

 

slzhort words which had been written by her
over.

How cold they read! _

Was it fancy or hard reality!

“Dunner Far:

“I am very un ly called to London, and
must not lose a train, so I have to write my adieu
instead of speaking it. You will know I shall let you
hear from me at the earliest possible moment.

“ Yours ever, R201.qu LARGE.

“P. B.—Entreat Mrs. Ashley to make all the ex-
cuses necesaary to our guests for me. I did not
foresee this hurried journey.”

And that was all.

Yetfihe and be bid parted—how fondly l_——
last night, her. hand in his, and he had whis-
pered a few words which thrilled her heart With

JO .

x All his deepest happiness had been born
since he first saw her dear face,” he had said,
in tones which to Fay had been as sweetest
music.

Their hands had been locked together; “ To
live _ without her now would be impossible !”
Re nald had breathed, soft and low, as he left
his iss on her fair cheek.

And this morning he had left her thusl

The few lines read cold and chill to the warm-
hearted and loving girl, whose future bliss was
all bound u in him.

Delia—w 0 had so lately encountered her
brother in the shrubbery—was altogether over-
whelmed, and sat down without saying another

word.

“Well, my dear.” resumed Mrs. Ashley, “I
don’t know that there is any reason wh you
should be so much distressed about it. ggy
has not run away for good! But do you know
anything of the cause of this sudden ab-
sencei”

“I?” stammered Delia. “No: nothing!”

“I thought it just possible that you might,
my dear, considering that Lord Lindsay left us
so suddenly. Oh, Delia, dear! I am so truly
grieved that you .cannot see Lord Lindsays
worth, and his devotion for you.”

“ But—but .I did not send Lord Lindsa
awa l I did not tell him to leave the Abbeyl ’
crie Delia, more distressed than before.

“Perhaps no in so many words, Delia; but
we could all see ow he felt. ls Reginald gone
away on his account, my dear?"

“ Not that I know,” regiied Delia, faintly.

Her head swam With t “s new trouble.

Reginald was gone.

Where! Why!

But he was not gone; he was hidinw in the
shrubbory in order to escape observation, and
to avoid the good-by to a .

“ We need not al of us look as if we were go-
ing to a funeral Delia,” cried Fay, trying to
laugh. “ Reginald Will write as soon as he gets
to town I suppose, both to you and to me.
Well, I had better pro for my own depar-
ture, and on are not tell Boggy that we all
sat round he fire and wept over his note.”

“ No, indeed l” cried Mrs. Ashley, brightening
up as she began to think that after all, Roms
nald’s sudden absence would be satisfactorily

lalned. “And oh, Delia! if_ on will think
over matters. I am sure you w not refuse to

 

recall that nice Lord Lindsay. Never have I
valued any young man so much I”

“ But, dear Mrs. Ashley, do not talk as if—as
if I had refused him! He did not give me the
opfiogtunity, and I am persuaded that he never
w1 .

“Because you have repelled him,” said the
elder lady, with a sigh.

Then other people came in, and Fay rose
hastily, saying she must dress for her railway
journey; and an hour afterward she took a
tearful adieu of Delia, and the latter found her-
self toward four o’clock that afternoon alone
with Mrs. Ashley, the visitors gone.

Reginald absent—the great rooms untenanted
save by herself and that quiet old lady.

CHAPTER VIII.
SOMETHING UNEXPECTED.

WHAT a bush in the storm which had raged
about her so fiercely during the last few days!

How terrible, too was the uiet, peopled with
the remembrance of all that ad come to her!
And what was yet to come?

That she could not know, but threatening
fears met her on every side.

The seemingly interminable hours of that da
went by at length, and morning brought wit
it a short letter from Reginald.

“I maybe detained here a few days," he wrote,
“ so that I shall hardly be able to get to Sir Croftoii
Earle’s so soon as I had. hoped. Of course I shall
write to Fay."

This was all, and Delia felt renewed uneasi-
ness.

A whole week rolled away; New Year’s Day
dawned and waned, and others succeeded it,
while Mrs. Ashley pottered about in the gar-
den and drove out, and fell asleep in her easy-
chair after dinner, and went through her easy
existence, without discoverin that Delia was
changed—changed from a appy, careless,
blooming girl, to a saddened, restless, care-
laden one.

Delia had written to Reginald at his club,
but it was impossible to write all she had to
urge; and she could only tell him how much
she hoped that he would manage a. speedy re-
turn to the Abbey, as she had much to say to
him of great import.

Then came a few more short lines from him,
a hasty excuse for his absence, which really ex-
plained nothing.

The very next post brought something quite
unexpected to Delia—a letter addressed to her-
self, in that same bold writing which had been
on the envelope she had first taken in at the
library window. I

Vgit'h shrinking heart, Delia opened it and
rea :

“ I have to ,ht against troubll 0 Deli but I
was seized with serious illness onnifinyiil‘ili’g to 1%ndon,
which I did ahnost immediately after our last sight
of each other. I should not like to die without a few
last words. Will you not make some excuse to come
to town, and grant the last prayer of ”

What could she do in answer to such an ap-
peal? She must obey it; but how?

Mrs. Ashle was the dearest of old ladies, and
fain would elia have had the comfort of re-
ferring to her in this sad perplexity; but. alas]

 

l}
l:

18 sandman HEARTS.

 

 

Mrs. Ashley could not keep a secret, and to con-
fide in her would have been to trust the whole
of their intimate acquaintances with the fact of

‘James Larch’s existence, and the necessity he

had subiected himself to of evading the law.

Thus Delia saw herself forced to go on a false
pretense.

“ I want to run up to London and see what
Reggy is doin ,” said she, inwardly trembling,
as they ar for the night.

“ To ndonl” exclaimed Mrs. Ashley, in
much the same tone as she would have used if
foldl that Delia meditated a journey to Lap-

an .

“ To see Reginald,” repeated Delia.

“Well, my dear, then I must make an effort
to gel But at this time of year it certainly is
not leasant.”

“ hi I could not ask you to go,” the girl has-
tened to as . “ My maid would escort me, and
Reginald— ’

‘ Re inald would be at the other end to meet
youl t might be managed in that way, cer-
taml .”

“ hat is the way in which we will manage
it "said Delia, decidedly. “ Good-night, dear

rs. Ashley. I will be of! by an early train to-
morrow, then I shall get back sooner. So good-
by as well as good-night.”

She spoke with concealed anxiet , for she
did not intend to send Reginald a te egram to
meet her at the other end of her journey. She
would see him, truly, but not till she had first
seen her other brother, James, whose bones
were supposed to lie whitening on a North
American prairie.

But now Delia ex rienced an embarrassment
she had never felt efore. She had no means
for her journey and that of her maid, for she
had given all her money to her elder brother,
and to borrow of Mrs. Ashley would give rise
to innumerable questions.

She solved the immediate difiiculty by bor-
rowing of her maid, on some. excuse, and m the
cold fog and frostinoss of an early morning in
January, the started.

Bagmne o’c ock they were well on their way
to ndon: by eleven o’clock the shrinking girl
and her attendant were at Victoria Station.

“ Now, Marston, I want you to go on to our
town—house, and wait for me. I Will go to my
brother alone.”

“ Alone, missl But what would Mrs. Ashley
say?” cried the maid, thunderstruck.

‘ I know that I must tell her afterward,
Marston, but at present it is best to manage as
I arrange. Besides, what possible harm can
happen to me in a cab? Am 1 not going to see
my own brother?”

‘To be sure, miss,” said Marston, who did
not uite go the length of accusing Miss Larch
of be ng about to visit a sweetheart. .

So far, then, Delia‘s way was smooth—all ex-
cept the awkward part of havin no money
with which to re my what she had rrowed of
her maid when t e returned to the Abbey.

Reginald and rs. Ashley had both known
that she pessessed fifty pounds untouched a few
days previously; they had each lau bed at her
careful and thrifty habits of always aving cash
at command, and paying ready money for her

 

personal expenses. How then was she to ac-
count for her Kresent poverty, which sooner or
later must lea out? or she had promised to
give fifteen pounds to a poor family in the
neighborhood of the Abbey, who had suffered
great loss from fire, but that subscription she
was now powerless to pay.

With these uncomfortable reflections in her
mind, the rumbling cab brought her in less than
half-an-hour to a quiet, somewhat poor, side
street in Pimlico, where her brother James

An untid maid-servant answered her sum-
mons, and elia wasas muc surprised to be-
hold such a person as the ma (1 was at seein so
elegant a young ladyas Miss Larch stan ng
there inquiring or the gentleman, Mr. Roberts,
who had lately come to live there.

“ There ain t no one come here lately, miss;
the gent as is here now has stayed on an on for
six ear an’ more. A stout party; old he is,
but is name isn’t Roberts—’tis Thomas.”

“ Are you sure?” asked Delia.

“La, yes, missl ’Tisn’t like I shouldn’t know,
for I’ve been here five year. I’m eighteen to-
morrow an’ I came when I was thirteen.”

“ Is Mr. Thomas ill?” inquired Delia, think-
ing that there was some mistake.

“ Ill? N o; he’s as well as you or me and that
stoutl There, miss, if you want a sight—”

But Delia had heard enough. She had come
to the wrong address, that was plain; but she
liad come to the address given in her brother’s
etter.

“ What shall I do now?” asked she of the
rough servant girl. “I came to London to see
a sick friend; he ma be dying. Surely this is
Connington street, mlico?"

“ Sure enou h it is, miss, No. 117. No; you’ve
made no mistaie. Tr at 17, and at 27, and 7,
and see if you don’t d the party you wants
there. ’Tis the number you want, not the
street.”

And so Delia, in haste and trepidation (she
had dismissad the cab), went to No. 27. and
then to No. 17 and on to No. 7. But with no
success. Mr. Roberts was not a lodger at any
of those places.

She now determined to summon courage and
knock at every house in Conningtan street till
she came to the right one, and had twice made
her weary inquiry, when an exclamation from
a voice, which thrilled and terrified her at once,
made her look round to meet the questioning
eyes and sad face of Lord Lindsay Deane. ,

“ Miss Larch! Delia! You here, alone?” he
exclaimed. “ Were you going anywhere near?
Can I aid you!”

“No, thank you,” replied Delia, trembling.
“ I am in great haste, Lord Lindsay, and must
hu on. ,

“ ow can I leave you here, unles our bro-
ther is with you, or some friend! Isl potable
that Mrs. Ashley permitted you to come 170
town alone?”

“My maid escorted me, and Reginald is in
glendon. I made the journey to see my br0~
' 01‘.

“But he is not with oul I have inst met
him, and fear, from the manner 11 which
he left me. that he is in some anxiew."

HAUNTED HEARTS. 19

“ Indeed! But I must not delay. Excuse
me, Lord L’ncisay, but I must go on.”

‘ Delia," mi 1 he, “I willnot leave you in this
out-of-the—v ay street unless with some responsi-
ble escort. ”

” Do I understand you to threaten to watch
my actions, Lord Lindsay?” cried Delia, comv
pletel dismayed. .

“ I ave not threatened anything, but I Will
watch over your safety while you are here
alone.”

“ Oh, Heaven!” she cried, bursting into tears;
“ and time is flying! Lord Lindsay, you do not
understand the importance to me, and to a
dying person, of every moment that is now
passin away.”

“De 'a, you lmow my devotion to you. I
will be as one blind or deaf. I will remain
tongue-tied as to this interview, if you will per-
mit me to be your escort. That is all I ask. Is
it too much?’

“And is it too much to ask, on my part, that
you leave me free—unfettered? Cannot you in-
fer from what I have told you, that I came here
on a charitable errand, to see a dying person?
By prolonging this interview you are torturing
me.

“ You force me to leave you. But I will re-
main there at the corner of the street till you
return. Remember, if you need a friend’s help,
there I am 1”

“Lord Lindsay, on must not watch my ac-
tions. As I have a ready told you, I came here
to see a dying person.”

“Whom she loves!” he thought within him—
self. But, aloud, he said, “ Go! I will not fol-
low you!”

Then he walked some distance away, and she
continued her search.

At last, at No. 11, which she did not reach
until she had gone the weary len h of one side
of the street, she learnt that a . Roberts did
lodge there.

“And. he isvery ill!” asked Delia, now half
fainting.

“We 1, miss, he has been bad; but, to-day,
bad as he’s been, he said he must get up and go
out. And out he digefio nigh on eleven o’clock.”

“ Gone out 1” ech Delia. “ I supposed him
dying! I have come a long journey on
to see him, and now you tell me he is gone
out 1’

“That he is, miss, and no mistake! And
when he’ll be back is more’n I know. You’d
best step in.”

H I cannot wait,” said Delia, feeling some in-
di ation at her brother’s thoughtlessuess.

0 could not be so veryill if he could rise and
go out! And to What pain and suspicion had he
not exposed herl

“ Will you say, please, that a young lady
came to see him—a lady named Delia; and
that she had had such great trouble in coming
she would not be able to call again, but that she
w“ led to find him better.”

“ fa, yes, miss. He’ll be sorry to have
missed you, I’ll be bound, but he said as he
must out.”

Wit that, Delia walked away, and Lord

Lindsay met her as she neared the corner of the
street. l

 

" I did not once look round. I know nothing

31! where you have been, Delia,” said he, ten~
er y

“And 1,” she said, faintly. “I did not find
the person 1 came to see, and whom I believed
to be dying. Lord Lindsay, from my heart I
am sorry not to be able to tell you more. Are
we not bound to guard another’s secrets?”

“Sometimes,” he answered. “At any rate, I
will guard this secret of yours. But what is
this? You are overcome with fatigue, or with
what ou have suffered! Let me get you a cab.
0h t at I am to lose sight of you like this!
Delia, it will break my heart!”

“And mine!” escaped her lips, as if against
her will.

“What do I hear? Oh, m own darling, did
you tell me that our separat on gave ou pain
—that it would break your heart alsoiz

“I said—I said that what I suffered would
kill me,” replied she, covered with confusion,
and now only anxious to leave him.

But he held fast her hand.

“Delia, you cannot leave me till I know
from your own lips what those two words
meant. I see that you are unhappy; I have
known it these few last dreadful days; But
nowI must be assured whether in what you
suffer, any particle of that ]pain is caused by
your separation from me. f so, never, never
Will I give u hope—never will I renounce you,
Delia!’ said 9, passionately.

“Lord Lindsay,” she faltered, “I entreat
you to let me leave Eu now! It must be suf-
ficient for you to ow that I could never,
never, at an time—”

he pans .

“Could never return my aflection !” breathed
he, in passionate, despairing tones.

Delia was silent. How could she tell this
man he was nothing to her, when her heart

danced to a 10 ous music, saddened as she was, ‘

by the remem rance that he loved her?
“ You are silent, Delia,” he re ated.
“I must leave you,” she said, in helpless

mise .

“ gu shall. But, dearest, I will not be slow
in following you to the Abbeyto ask you the
question there. ”

“ Oh, no, no 1” she faltered. “ There. too,
and always, I must tell you the same thing—
that we are separated!”

Lord Lindsay hailed a cab, put her into it,
then following her, be bent and imprinted a fer-
vent kiss on the hand he clasped for a moment.

And then he left her; and the cab which bore
Delia away from his longing eyes a mement
afterward, carried a despairing irl.

Was she not in reality bound v as heavy a
chain asbeforoi Was she one w it more free
to accept Lindsay’s love? Would she ev‘er be-
ever at an time?

Oh, no; or nothing could undo the fact that
her brother James had committed forgery, and
perhaps taken a man’s life! That fact must re-
main a wall of adamant between her and Lind—
say, even though her erring brother slept in
ever so deep a grave. But yet, as the cab took
her awa from Lindsay’s dear presence, a ray
of conso tion struck across her misery—a line

 

20

 

of golden glory on the dark sea of her hopeless-
BOSS.

Lindsay had repeated that he loved her.
Would she ever forget that“!

 

CHAPTER IX.
m ms wares swarms arms.

“I THINK I have had my journey for noth-
ing‘,” said Delia, as, at length, her cab drew up
at the town mansion, where her maid awaited
her. “My brother was not to be found at his
club. I made the cabman inquire for him.”

“ And he has not been here, ma‘am; and you
look so tired. Mrs. Mathews has ot you some
luncheon, ma’am, and some tea. f you are re-
turning to the Abbe by the half-past three
o’clock train, we not have much time to
spare.”

Delia. shivered by the blazing fire in the dis-
used breakfast—room—shivered more even from
excitement than from exhaustion. The outside
world looked indescribany gloom , for dark-
ness was not far off that January ( ay, and fog
hung in the air and brooded over the city.

But (i ite the fog, and gloom, and her in-
tense fatigue, the image of Lord Lindsay, his
words and looks, recurred to sup rt her.

Soon after, Delia and her mail drove off for
Victoria Station, whence, some time before six
o’clock, they neared Larch Abbey again.

“Mr. Larch may ,ve returned before us,
miss,” said the maid cheerily, as the train
stopped. “I shouldn’t wonder now if he was
here to meet you, miss.”

Delia scanned the latform ea erly, and
{um )ed out; but no ta 1, youthful orm, with
aug linge es and joyful looks, met her gaze.
She was on y answered by the gloom and mourn-
fulness of night.

A carria e had been sent to take her home;
and Delia oped that when she arrived, Mrs.
Ashley would neither be too curious as to the
manner in which she had spent her hours in
London nor too close in her questionin .

But she soon found that she won d have
nothing formidable in that way to encounter.
Mrs. Ashley 'was in tears, and the greatest dis-
tress.

“ 0b, in dear, I do not know how to tell you
what has apéienedi I cannot find the words!
It is too drea ful l”

And then came another burst of tears.

“ Pray do tell me, dear Mrs. Ashley—tell me
at once, or suspense is hard to beari’

“ It is about poor Fay l" wept Mrs. Ashley.

“ Is ".110 ill?” cried Delia, in alarm.

“No, r dear irl; unless she is ill from
wretch nessi An only this morning I had a
letter from her, telling me that Lady Catherine
Barnes had romisel . to be her sixth bridemaid;
and then th s bluw falls!”

“Dear Mrs. Ashley, What is it?” implored
Delia, sinking down at the old lady’s feet, and
seizin her hands.

“I on’t know what Sir Crofton Earle will
say; but you have been told what a furious
temper he has. I shouldn’t wonder if he took
lega roceedin , Delia.”

‘0 , tell me ” cried Delia, again—“tell me
at once!”

HAUNTED .HEAR’i‘S.

 

. ,.. “a,” m‘lmuw. . r.

-= r -v—~-_44- m

“ Well, my dear, I have as good as told you,
now, and you must see that I wished to prepare
you for the sad truth. i don’t understand what
is done in such cases about Wedding presents;
but I am sure the pearl ear-drops Fay had from
old Mrs. Vane must have cost three hundred
pounds, at least. But what is losin them, or
anythin else, compared to losing er ha pi-
nessi our brother Reginald has jilted er,
my dear!”

“It is not possible!” broke from Delia’s li .

“There is her letter, and Reginald’s. 0th
came by the afternoon ,post. Read them, and
see if there is any hope.

Delia sunk down on the nearest chair, over-
come with this new trouble.

Sitfiflginald to jilt Fayl It did not seem pos-

9.
She first opened poor Fey’s letter, and read:

“ DEAREST DELLA: I must call you so, for we were
to have been sisters so soonl I am nearly blinded
with tears as I write this. Reginald has sent me
such a cruel letter! Yes, cruel; thou h in it he tells
me he shall die with my image in is heart. He
says, Delia, that he shall never marry; that it has
become his duty to live and die 'a lonely man; that
Mount’s Castle and nearly all he possesses is mine
by rlight, but that we two must live and die a rt.

“ ow can he write such cruel words to me How
havel deserved them, Delia? M heart is broken.
You can s wak where 1 cannot. Vhat would be to
me a bun red castles without his love? His love 2—-
ifl I have lost it, Delia, I must live without it—or

(1 el

“Oh Della! you are with him. You can uestion
him. lcannot. He says that we are not 0 meet
again. And I can only acquiesce in such a hard de-
cision. Will you writeto me, then? Will you find
out for me what it is which has estranged him from
me in these few short da s! Ahl my heart misgave
me when I left Larch A bey, and he sent me that
short cold note of adieu.

“I know it is the fashion for girls to hide their
feelings. and to be as ready to renounce a lover as
he may be to for ct them; but, Delia, we Were am.
anced, and I, at east, cannot resign my life's happi-
ness without asking why it is wrested from me.
You are m6" only hope then Delia, and I think you
will not fa ’Your eart-broken

“FAY Emma."

“And here is Reginald’s letter, my dear,”
said Mrs. Ashle , beginning to weep anew, and
watching Delia s pale face as she read:

Reginald’s letter ran thus:

“My Dun Mas. Asm: A great sorrow has
blighted my life, a. sorrow which i cannot explain.
I no lon er look forward to a happy marriage with
Fa . an have written to tell her so.

‘ It is not (possible, in my present frame of mind,
that I shoul come back to the Abbey, save for one
or two days; but I find that I cannot eave England
for a lengthened eriod without a businessinterview
with the stewar , and settlin some things which
hitherto I have arranged or Delia since her
guardian‘s death.

“During this time, I must not be questioned. I
can explain nothing, and only nselrss pain to us all
could result from questions concerning my motives
for brgaking of! my engagement to Fay and 801118
a ma .

“ on will forgive me, I hope, for writing abrupt-
:ly, for i feel acutely the change in myso recent

EDDY PTOBPOCti-i.

“Give my sister the inclosed note. She will
grieve, I fear, for this sudden alteration in our
Plans. 1 am ever dear Mrs. Ashley
“ Yours affectionately,

“Baum Luca."

 

 

>  .".'.."‘£1£J1$1_1 1.24. 

HAUNTED HEARTS.

“He is in great haste to fly from us all, my
dear; but something ought ‘to be done to_pre-
vent the ruin of the happiness of two hves.
Don’t you think so?” ” ‘
D‘iph, that we could see what to do! gasped

e in.

“There is still his letter to you to read,
Delia.”

It was as follows:

“ My Dun Damn: I write to on at a solemn mo-
ment of my life—at an hour w en everything like
happiness is wrenched from me. Therefore. I think
you will consent to give consideration to my words.
Lately I have fancied that you and Lindsav Deane
were drifting apart. Do not let any idle ancy or
girlish readiness to be exacting make you foolish
enough to slight his love. He is a good fellow, and
you will not now have me to watch over you.

“Oh, Delia! it is a cru.‘. blow which has struck
me, all the more so because I could neither foresee
nor ward it off.

“We shall meet only to separate: they will have
told you that. Do not make our parting more hitter
than it must be by useless entreaties.

“ Your ever-loving brother,
“REGINALD.”

“And what does he say to you, Delia? Does
he s wait out to you?” '

" ot at all. Dear Mrs. Ashley, you must
not repeat what he says here to me, and I am
reluctant to show you: but if I do not, you will
suppose there is some secret. ”

‘  that I shall, my dear; and be so un-

“ Well, then, he advises me to accept Lord
Lindsay Deane,” added Delia, with a vivid

blush; “but as I cannot accept him, we will
sa no more about it.” _

Kira. Ashley, however, did say a great deal
more about it; for great was her destre to see
Delia Lady Lindsay Deane. . . .

“I do not see what there is to be done in this
sad business—do you, Delia? Shall we send for
Lord Lindsay to k to Reginald when he ar-
rives! He might isten to him.”

“ Im sible! Oh. no, no, dear Mrs. Ashley!”
cried elia. “ Wait; let me think a moment!
1 want to think i”

Delia rose trom her chair restlessly, and as
she paced about the room, was debating whe-
ther she should send a telegram to her aunt,
Lady Wood, now in the south of France, to ac-
quaint her with the state of things, and beg her
to return home at once; for Reginald had de-
clared he would answer no questions; but this
aunt had much influence with him, and he gave
her all the ail‘ection of a son.

“ Let us send a telegram to aunt Wood. He
may listen to her 1” cried Delia, stopping in her
hurried walk. _

“The very thin ,my dear! Oh, what com-
fort the thought as given me! Tell her she
must come straight to the Abbey, and travel
almost without a geek.” .

“ She will have tune to get here, for Reginald
writeeas if he should not arrive for a day or
two, and he willbe detained here another two

a a hose 3.
mimic? gogiforted )by this sending of the tele
gram, Mrs. Ashley prepared to eat her dinner,
and to ho that all would yet be well. But
Delia coal take rest Only because exhaustion

 

21

I

laid on her its heavy hand, and no dreams of a
sunny future for her or for Be 'nald visited her
heavy slumbers that bitter nig t.

CHAPTER X.
DELLA HAS TO ANSWER some DIFFICULT QUES-
TIONS.

THE next twenty-four hours hadnotrun their
course when Reginald arrived at the Abbey.
He came‘ in unannounced, greeting his sister
and Mrs. Ashle in his usual manner. But his
features seem cut in stone, and no smile broke
across them: nor did any ray of gladness shine
from eyes that were once all mirth and bright-

ness.

Delia and Mrs. Ashley kissed him in silence,
each beginnin to calculate how far on her way
to the Abbey dy Wood might be.

The short sentences exchanged between the
two ladies and Reginald were constrained and
few.

“ Had ou a cold journey, Reginald?” asked
Mrs. As ey.

“ think so; I did not observe,” replied he.

Delia could not venture on a remark, for her
voice was choked with tears.

Reginald sat down, and hastily opened some
letters awaiting him; then rose, and left the
room, mere] asking if dinner could be deferred
till ei ht o’c ock.

“O , Delia, I am more concerned than ever
now that 1 have seen him i” cried Mrs. Ashley,
as the door closed behind him.

So was Delia. But with the evening letters
had arrived an unwelcome one for her. She
had recognized the handwriting of her brother

ames.

“It is not 1possible to tell you, Delia," wrote be,
“how much feel your kindness in comingto see
me; and on may rest assured that no common oc- '
currence orced me to be absent when on arrived.
in as I was, 1 had to leave my sick-be that morn-
ing, ‘for‘, Delia, I may have to fly from England, and
en ( en .

" In tl’iis case, I must see you once more. as there
is yet something to confide to you, of which you are
at present ignorant. But I could not ask you to'
run the risk of another Journey to London. I will
come (it will be for the last time to the libra win-
dow, and I must not venture so ose as early the
evening as before.

“ When I last wrote to you, 'I believed myself dy-
ing; butCmy partial recovery was as m id as my at-
tzlick.lyW hen we meet I will explain fully and
c ear .

“If I have to leave England at once, can you be
prepared to advance funds for that pu so? I
sha i want at least a hundred ionnds—it should be
more" and how many thousan s a year has in bro-
ther lieglnald l—how many thousands will youiiave!
while I, the heir to ail—I have to petition for a pit-
tancel But do not think I say this to reproach you,
my good. my dear sister! I reproach myself; but
would it be in human nature not to feel bitterly?

“ Yours, most unhappy, Luca.“

This further communication sorely embar-
rassed Delia. To have forthcoming a hundred
pounds at a moment’s notice was well-nigh im-
possible to her; besides which, she owed her
man] five pounds, and every day expected to
be askied foil; the fifteen guineas which in a hap-
pier t me 5 0 had romised to the famil whose
cottage had been gamed. ’

. ruet'“'lmfl“ "'-.v".. 7-» -- n. . n  ,

22 HAUNTED HEARTS.

It is true she had much valuable jewe ; but
if she disposed of that, she would inevita l ' be
questioned at a future time. How shoul she
answer such questions? But yet it was true
that there werethousanrls spent at Larch Abbey
which would have belonged of right to him who
now petitioned for a hundred!

The receipt of this letter by no means tended
to calm her tation as she went down-stairs to
meet Regina d: and even be, absorbed as he
“Ea: in his own griefs, exclaimed, at the sight
0 er:

“ You are not well, Delia, or else you are very
unhappy i” said he.

“ I am not very happy, but nev.er mind that,”
re lied she, turning away from his scrutiny.

ginald said no more, attributing her altered
looks to sorrow for his sudden departure. and
still more to some coldness or misunderstanding
with Lord Lindsay.

“ Don’t throw away your happiness, Delia,”
said he, gloomily.

“No,” she answered, in low accents of deep
feeling; “ but happiness may be torn from us. ’

“That is true, indeed!" said he, bitterly, and
then was silent. Delia had hoped he would
connect what she had said with the sorrow she
must feel at his severance from Fay, and his
sudden mysterious leave-taking. Indirectly she
must entreat him, if in no other manner.

The dinner was heavy be ond endurance.
Reginald ate nothing, and w n he uttered a
few words, forgot sometimes to finish his sen-
tenco.

Toward the conclusion of the meal, when the
servants had withdrawn, he addressed Delia
suddenly:

“ We must not forget those poor J ohnstones,
who were burnt out. How much did you say
you would give them, Delia? That must be
done at once. ’

“ I said I would ve fifteen guineas,” faltered
Delia, a troubled ush mounting to her brow.

“ Will you let them go with my subscription,
and ve them to me to-night?”

De ia‘s confusion increased.

‘Suppose you get the money as soon as you
go tip-stairs?” continued Reginald, Elomnily.

Then, asstill she did not rcpl , e looked at
his sister. Her distress was evi ent.

“Reginald, I haVe not the money; I want
some very badly inst now,” stammered she.

“ Wan some] ’ exclaimed Mrs. Ashley.
“Why, my dear, you had fifty pounds a fort-
night ago, and you are always so careful i”

‘ Yes, yes—but,” said Delia, “ I have spent it.”

" Howl" asked Reginald, shortly;I

“I—I gavo it away,” said De' , still more
confused than before.

“And to whom?” uestioned her brother
sternly, with the feel n that some one had
been gettin a large sum roin his inexperienced
sister, and t he must put her on her guard.

“I gave it in charity, said Delia, trembling.

“ lndiscriminate charity creates panpers, I
have heard it sai ” remarked Mrs. Ashley in
“’1? R” i'“°i‘.£° ‘i'S‘éa new

0 as n m ng on
asked Reginald with a weary sighyou'
“I save it willingly. ,d feel that 1 did right

 

\

in doing so; but, Reginald. when 1 went to
London tosee you yesterday, I had no money,
and it was so embarrassing! I to borrow
five ounds of Marston.”

“ nd zou owe these fifteen guineas to the
Johnstones, because you promised them the
mone i”

b‘]‘ es,” said Delia, feeling very uncomfort-

a e.

" Well, Delia, you will get into trouble—and
serious trouble—if you spend beforehand what
you have made yourself liable for, and borrow
for eXigencies. If you go upon that principle,
you”w1]l get into difficulties, heiress' as you
are.

“ I hope I can have some mone now Re
because I real] do want it. Cash ini letg‘rg’e
have two hun red pounds?” asked she.

“TWO hundred! WhV?” questioned Regi-
nald, who felt sure that the money was not; to
be s eat on herself.

“ es, please; I want as much as two hun-
dred.”

“Delia, you shall have it if on will
haw on spent the Hit pou’ndsg’ tell me

_Te him that f y, that would be to tell
him all!

“ I cannot. I have promised not.
charity, ” falterod Delia.

“Well, then, Delia, for your sake, I refuse.
I am .sure some one is imposing on your
generosity, and I will stop it at once. or
course it is right that you should give: but to
be bound not to tell your nearest relatives how
you dispose of your money is not right. You
are only eighteen Delia, and three hundred
a-year ought to be enough for your present
wants, when those wants mean merely dress
and small charities. How are you to manage
the outgoin which this large estate entails if
you cannot fixes within bounds on three hun-
dred a- ear, when all your needful expenses
are i 1’

“ tis painful to me not to tell you, Re gy;
but I have promised to be silent, and I caiginot
—-I ought not to speak of this gift. You your~
si‘lf would say that I ought not to do so,” cried
s ie.

“Perhaps you have been made to think so.
However, let us say no more about it, Delia. I
confess that it has made me rather anxious.”

"And now, pray, let me have the two hun-
dred pounds,’ urged Delia, with tears in her

6 83.

y“ It must be one hundred.” said Reginald, de—
cisively. “ That will surely allow acomforta-
ble margin, even when you have paid the twen-
t pounds owing to your maid and to the

ohnstones.”

“No, it will not do what I want, indeed ”
cried Delia, who asked herself how she should
find the hundred pounds needed by that un-
known brotiier, who might ask for it evon by
tomorrow’s post.

But Reginald was inflexible. Moreover,
Delia’s unusual persisten , and her deep disap-

intment at his refuse of the money, gave

man uneasy feeling. Mrs. Ashlez, too, was as
much surprised as Reginald- but s e forbore to
add her remarksto Delhi’s dim

It was in

HAUNTED HEARTS. ‘ as

“ Since I cannot t the money, I must let my
jewels go,” decid Delia. “ shall be sus-
pected, and I cannot explain.”

The rose from table, and Reginald did not
follow them into the drawing-room.

When ten o’clock struck, a footman brought
in a note to Mrs. Ashley. That kind old lady
read with some satisfaction these lines from
Reginald:

“I to t to tell you that Lindsay Deane will be
here to ine and sleep to-morrow evening. He met
me. and asked to come. Better not tell Della."

Mrs. Ashley made no comment on the note
and soon afterward Delia said “ Good-night,"
and left the room.

CHAPTER XI.
ran cmsx.

“How ill Reg is!” smote through Delia’s
heart, as she met or brother at the morning

me .

‘Daylight showed, even more clearl than had
the previous night, his haggard 100's; and he
was thus ch in a few short days. What,
then, would a ew months do?

As this thought pressed on the young girl,
Reginald was taking a long and furtive gaze at
his sister.

She was not wont to look as she did this mom

is he noted this, he observed that a pain-
ful expression crossed her face as she took up a
letter awaiting her—a letter which she hastened
to put into her pocket, unread.

‘ If she accepts Lindsay. she will be in his
keeping, and I need not be anxious. If not, I
must uestion her,” he decided.

“ I s all be occupied all day,” he remarked to
Mrs. Ashley. “ But I will see you and Delia at
dinner. I shall nprobably leave by the night
train to-morrow.

“To-morrowi And suppose Indy Wood did
not arrive till he was gone! That was the
thought in the hearts of both ladies as they
looked silently at each other, while Reginald
left the room.

“ My one hope is that she will come in time,”
said Mrs. Ashley, breaking silence.

“ And mine,” added Delia.

And then she slipped away to read that letter
which lay concealed—a source of infinite anx-
iet —in her pocket.

'Fhat anxiety was by no means allayed as she

"As I feared, I must leave this country, and I will
come to-night f0r the two hundred unds. Oh,
Delia! make it a larger sum, it possib 0. Do i give
you trouble? Well, it will be for the last time. and
our interview will be of the shortest.

“You will Rive me the money. and I will let you
have. the address to which, henceforward. you may
transmit my allevvance abroad.

“ There is One thing more; but an my hopes hang
on it. for even I have hopes, elia. I want to hem-
from your own ii 8 that if I die, on will continue
to my child—for l have a child, be Ia—the allowance
you send me. When i have that assurance, l will de-

and trouble you no more, forever.

“We must not meet at the lame hour as before:

 

but come to the same place—the library window-
soon after the household have retired to rest.

“Two moments will end our interview; and even
should you be heard in remountlng the stairs, how
easily could you account for your presence in the
library! it would be only to carry a book with you.
and to say that you could not sleep.

" I shall count on you, then—to-morrow, soon
after midnight. Your ever unhappy brothSrL ”

Shaken as she had been, the idea of meeting
him alone, so late, was intensely terrifying to
Delia, and aothin would have made her con-
sent but the belie which had taken possession
of her that he had in some way been traced, and
must fly, and had not the means to do so.

But the money! Delia was desperate.

She collected most of her valuable bracelets
a jeweled pendant, earrings, and a diamond
locket, and putting them intoa small basket.
locked them in one of her drawers, ready for
transport.

The day wore on.

Contrary to the expectation of Delia and
Mrs. Ashley, Reginald came into the drawing-
room toward iive o’clock and asked for some
tea. Just then a ring at the hall door announced
a visitor. ‘

“ Lindsa Deane, I sup ose,” remarked Regi-
nald, care essly. “Did tell you, Delia, that
he bfigged to come here to see me to-night?” ,

“ 0,” said she, faintly.

But it was not Lindsay Deane who entered.
It was the secretly longed-for aunt, Lady
Wood.

“Is it you, aunt? I did not think you in-
tended returning before the spring!” exclaimed
Reginald, in astonishment.

“I altered my plans lately, my dear boy,”
said she, kissing him affectionately, and taking
no apparent notice either of his altered looks or
of Delia’s.
cold, long journey! You expect another visitor.
i imagine; for a fly was rumbling after mine
all u the drive.”

“ rd Lindsay Deane!” said Mrs. Ashley.

Yes, it was he. indeed; and Delia changed
color more than once as he took her hand in
greeting.

Than '5 to these arrivals, the dinner tonight
was not quiteso dreary as on the day before,
thou h even now Reginald was almost silent,
and elia too wretched to do more than go
through the meal in dumb show.

“ Shall you speak to Reginald to-nighti” cried
Mrs. Aslggg', the moment she was alone with
Lad W . .

“ es; to-ni ht! But say nothing about it,
not even to De is.”

It was late when they left the dining-room;
for Lady Wood had talked on about the South
of France, and Lord Lindsay had kept up the
conversation: so that no stranger would have
suspected that under the assumed ease, the
hearts of all athered around the dinner-table
were torn th sharp anxiety.

How deep, in Delia’s case, could not be esti-
mated; and, surely, Reginald’e must be as
heav as hers, to make him thus leave his rom-
ised ride. and all the joys which yout and
wealth offered him. Delia retired early.

She wished to do nothing to encourage Lind-

“ Oh, how nice to be here, after my .

at... .0--. . 

24

HAUNTED HEARTS.

 

say's suit; while, on his side, he as steadfastly
resolved to speak to her the moment she left the
breakfast-room next morning.

By midnight deep silence reigned throughout
the Abbey. lt was very still for a u inter
night; not even the meaning and sighing of the
wmd broke the uiet.

The unha py elia, pale as the whitest flower
in her own eautiful conservatory, took up the
basket laden with trinkets, and with noiseless
footfall proceeded along the carpeted corridors,
and down the wide staircase.

She mad the library door.

Anot ier ten minutes and her ordeal would
be over, and she would breathe again.

Now she caught her breath at each instant,
trembling as she went.

But hero she was at the door, a door which
rolled back softly on its hinges, and made no
sound to afl'right the terrified intruder. 1f the
window would open as softly, surely no one
would be disturbed—no one!

 

There were other watchers besides Delia that
night in the old Abbe , for Mrs. Ashley and
Lady Wood held anx ous converse together,
waiting till Reginald should leave Lindsay
Deane.

The two young men were still talking in a
room below, for sleep was far from either of
them, and Lmdsa had much to say. .

“ I must be rea y to waylay him,” said Lady
Wood. listening above for the sound of the
opening door. .

To her amazement, she saw Delia appear at
the head of the staircase—Delia, who heSitated,
as if in dread, and then crept trembhngly
down-stairs.

Somethin in the girl’s aspect made both
Lady Woo and Mrs. Ashley instantaneously
decide to follow, and they went after her
swiftly, with cautious tread. _

Delia alone carried a taper, a little star of
light amid the surrounding darkness. She went
to the door of the library, set down her precious
basket with intense care, in order to avoid mak-
ing an noise, and opened the rest door; but
not begbre Lady Wood, who hm get near her
and was then standing in a little recess, had
caught plain view of what Delia carried—a.
number of jewel cases.

Could she mean fli ht? .

Lady Wood tremb ed almostas much as Delia
as the latter opened the door. .

“Bring Reginald!” she whispered to Mrs.
Ashley, when Delia had closed the door and
vanished.

Lord Lindsay and the unhappy Reginald
were : .anding on the hearth-rug in the smok-
ing-room, when their conference was suddenly
broken in upon by the appearance of the
frightened Mrs. Ash ey, who was impressed by
the necessity of giving Delia no alarm, and yet
that their action should beprompt. _ _ _

“Camel—come!” she whispered: “ Delia is in
danger!” And that was all she said.

But it was enoii h. They noiseless] fol-
lowed the agitated rs. Ashley to the li rary

doffleantime, Lady Wood had_tiirned the handle
ever so softly. and was listening intently. De-

 

lia was at the long window which gave egress
to the gardens. Now she was openin the
shutter,” carefully as if life itself dope ed on
it ; but despite her greatest effort to unbar the
fastening without noise, her fingers trembled
too muc to com ass that entirely; and under
cover of the slig t disturbance caused by the
openin of the shutter Lady Wood herself
(s irou ed in the darkness) passed quite into the
room, and Lindsay Deane was quick to take up
his station next her.

Delia had set down the wax taper she car-
ried on the chimney-piece, far from the win-
dow, lest the night wind should extinguish it,
and the feeble iglit it diffused through the
lofty room was only sufficient to show the
movements of the agitated 'rl; the further
end of the apartment, and the sides and
corners, were in deepest gloom.

One terrible thought assailed the four watch-
ers—Delia was about to fly with some stranger!
Her changed looks, her manifest unhappiness,
were too sadly accounted for n0w. But each
said the same thing in the silent recesses of the
heart—“ We will save her!”

Hush! hush! The night wind rushes in as
dis long glass window yields to Delia’s efforts
md a man steps into the room. B rd he is
altered even from the man he was w on he first
l-ume to that same window, bearing with him
the wreck of a young life’s hap iness.

"Delia," he whisperodhin oarse accents,
"here is the paper whic will tell you where
to send all future sums of money.”

“And here,” gasped Delia, half-dead with
fear, “here are these jewels, in place of the
mndred pounds. I tried hard, but Reginald
n-fused me the money. These are worth many
hundred—take them—I can do no more!”

“Oh, Delia! how shall I change them for
mone without risk? But thanks—thanks, De-
lia! ow swearto me that you will continue
to my child the allowance you will secure to
me the moment you are of age—swear it, and I
will go and leave you in peace!”

Who was this man who exacted such a rom-
'.<e from the guarded heiress of Larch A boy?
Who was this who addressed her as Delia—for
whom she was read to dare and to sacrifice so
much? He looked a most old enough to be her
father. Who could he be?

These questionings ran swiftly through the
minds of Lad Wood of Mrs. Ashle and of
Lord Lindsay Deane; but the mind of ginald
was tossed on a stran e, wild sea of doubt. He
thought be guessed w 0 this man was; and yet
—and yet he had been told a deceith tale if
his surmises were true!

Delia’s trembling lips gave the required prom-

me.

“Now I shall leave you forever! Think
sometimes of your wretched, exiled brother.
Ohl if my father could see me now, here in the
old place, which 1 have only dared to enter in
secreit, from whence I go out a lonely, bamshed
man

“ Hushl—you will be discovered! Was that
a noise?” ted Delia. I

“No, no! There is only the night-wind to
witness the last parting between an only sister
and a brother supposed to have been eight

\

years in his lonely grave. Let Reginald die
without the knowledge that I am alive, I charge
you, Delia! Now I am gone!”

But, as he turned to go, a woman stood be-
tween him and the way of exit, while Lord
Lindsay (for Reginald seemed paralyzed) nick-
l seized the intruder, who, struc dum by
this unexpected presence of witnesses, was
powerless. Astor Delia, she uttered one faint
exclamation, and sunk u n a chair.

“And now may I as you, sir,” exclaimed
Lady Wood, towering in fine scorn before the
man, “ ma I ask on who I am? I have heard,

we have hear whom you rofess to be—
Mr. James Larch, who di many .years
since.

The man was speechless.

“ Who am I, sir?” repeated Lady Wood, in
severe tones.

“Aunt,” said Reginald, hoarsely, “he—he
has proved to me who he is—m brother
James! But he has cruelly deceiv me. He
urged me not to let Delia know of his existence,
that he might not blight her happinem”

“Oh, that was what be impressed on me
with re ard to you, dear Reggy,” exclaimed
Delia. 'Dear aunt! Mrs. Ashle 1 Lord Lind-
say! be silent about this secret w ich you. have
sur rised, for this man is m brother, though
he gares not openly avow it, or—for he has of-
fended against the law!”

“ I must express my astonishment,” continued
Lady Wood, with the same scorn as before,
“that Mr. James Larch should not remember
his old auiit Julia! Surely, sir, you can recall
the name of Featherl ? If you are James
Inrch, you will remem r Featherly Hall, and

our cousins and myself, who welcomed you
here so often.”

“0h, aunt Julia, I do—I do remember!” ex-

claimed the intruder. “But nineteen years is
a long time. I may be pardoned a momentary
forgthulness.”
‘ hat is true,” she answered. “If you re-
member the old times, you have a better chance
of making me believe your identity. Are you
in trouble, then! But ama woman of expe-
dients. I will keep on safe at Featherly Ball.
My ne hew James besafe as long as I live
to ro t him.”

‘ Aunt Julia, you are too good to me!” mur-
mured the man, of whom Lindsay now relaxed
his hold.

But neither the latter, nor Reginald, nor Mrs.
Ashley nor Delia, had ever heard of a Feather-
] Hall before, and they knew that no Mrs.

eatherly was aunt to the ~Larch family, and
that the lad who now called herself so was
certainly y Wood, and that her Christian
name was Mary, not Julia. Thus it flashed
u n them all that she was testing the veracity
o the intruder.

“ Well, now let me inform you, my unknown
ne hew, that there is no such place as Feather-
ly 11: that you never saw me befcre, nor I

ourself; that if you had been the veritable
James Larch, I should instantly have recognized
you, notwithstanding the lapse of years—(not
so long a s as Qu suppose, though)——-for he
nd I met 5: New ork the very Year he died.

on are notof my nephew’s build. sir; and in.
p"

HAUNTED HEARTS.

 

 

fold nurse, Deborah, and the elderly vicar of

this parish, and the head gardener will testify
to your imposture as well as I! We shall have
numerous witnesses. You are doubtless a very
clever rogue to have imposed on my real
nephew and niece, and the means you have
used for that pu ose we shall see presently.”

“What!” cri Reginald, raising his head,
while the light of his former self flashed back
again. “Have Delia and I been deceived? Is.
this man nothing to us? Oh, he has told us a
specious tale! He brought me letters, old let-
ters of my father’s, old letters of yours, also,
aunt Mary. And he said that he had committed
forgery, and stabbed a man, and so was lad to
let the world believe him dead, for that e was
stung by remorse, dishonored, and in the
power of the law. And 1—1 was mad with
grief, for this is what has rated me from
Fay! Could I let her wed the brother of a
criminal, one who might stand in a felon’a dock
an day if discovered?”

‘ Oh. Reginald,” faltered Delia, the life-blood
rushing back to her heart, “you and I have
been deceived in grecisely the same manner.”

“(filly dear, un appy children!” cried Lady

W0 .

The late Mr. James Larch, utterly cowed and
crestfallen, could not ejaculate one word in his
own defense.

Reginald, restored to himself, quietly took
Lindsay’s place by the impostor, and then the
youn nob eman hastened to Belia’s side.

“ as this cruel story influenced you in send-
ing me from you?” he whispered. “Is it this
which has made you reason as Reginald did?”

“I believed myself the sister of a felon, you
know, ” she whispered back again, as she yield-
ed her flngers to his elas ).

“ Well,’ continued Lady Wood turnin
again to the wretched man, “ I thin on '
be puzzled, clever rogue as you are, to answer
some questions which will shortly be put to you
in a court of justice. We will see that you do
answer them, or receive the reward you
merit."

“Stay, madam,” cried he. “I have a young
daughter. Have some pity for my child. She
is but fifteen. I sent her to negotiate with Mr.
Reginald Larch. She personated his young and
friendless niece.”

Delia gave a start of joyful surprise, for all
was explained now.

“ She bore my credentials to him, and he 81]
posed me abroad, for I preferred to deal wi h
the young lady persona ly, as likely to be more
credulous than her brother. His sup sed
niece, who had been born abroad, and had)0 but
just arrived in England, whither I had sent her
ass last hope to a )peal for funds to my. only
brother, could not e questioned about thin
she remembered, for, you see, she could not g
expected to know anything about them. Well,
I am a rogue, it is true: but I am also a father.
Spare me, let me go free this night for my
youn daughter’s sake!”

“ ow did you get the letters belonging to my
late brother? asked Reginald, sternly.

“ Well. I was often employed by the real Mr.
James Larch in America. You see that I am
an educated man. gone to the bad; but I am no

 

HAUNTED HEARTS.

 

 

man-slayer. asI retended to be, for my own
purposes. That put in to furnish a motive for
refusing to claim a large property. I intended,
and nearly succeeded. too, in getting a provision
from both parties interested; but my own reck-
lessness, or rather want of funds to fly on a sud-
’den emergency, has provided for me in a way I
did not anticipate.

-“ Well I was saying that I was an educated
man. M’r. Larch was fond of talking about his
old home in England, and I, who never let an
opportunity slip, questioned him carefully, at
first merel with the intention of calling on
his rich re atives in England as a friend, per-
sonatin the gentleman, and making what I
could o it, as chance might direct, if circum-
stances brought me to this country. After-
ward, whcn he died so unexpectedly, and when
I read, *ears after, in the English papers of the
death 0 his father, this scheme matured itself,
slowly indeed, butI acted on it at last. You
see, I knew that his rich heiress-sister, and his
equally wealthy young brother, had never seen
enoug of him to r( member him, and I had got
the letters. Poor Mr. Larch had charged me
often to let his family have his papers in case
he died out in the Far West: and I secured
them, in the first place, with the intention of
using them asavaluable introduction: but I am
a dilatory man, and then this scheme dawned
upon me. I have told you all, now l”

And, as he ended, in one moment, by a sharp
turn, be had opened the window behind him,
and stumbled out into the night. They pur-
sued, but the darkness aided the pursued one,
gnd after a fi uitless chase they gave up the ef-
ort.

“You should inform the police authorities,”
said Lord Lindsay, as the two young men re
turned to the Abbey.

"Oh, Lindsay,” exclaimed Reginald, linking
his arm in that of his friend, “ I. am like a new
man. Don’t think I can sleep here to-night.
Come; I shall rouse up a groom and ride till
dawn; for, till I have seen Fay, I can neither
rest nor sleep. So you will send to the police
station for me, eh, old fellow l”

The two young men entered the stables toge-
ther, roused up the groom, and soon afterward
Reginald Larch went riding through the winter
night to Sir Crofton Earle’s.

THE

The servant who was first awake at Sir Crof-
ton’s Manor l-louse, was amazed to see youn
Mr. Larch ride into the stable-yard. High
glad was he to seek the am le kitchen and
warm himself by the fire, and rom that stand-

int he sent up a message to Miss Favorette

‘arle, that he had ridden all night to see her.

“ Mr. Larch, did you sa i” asked Fay, faintly.

“Yes, Miss Fay; and a does look so tired,
and so happy.”

Fay with new life, sprun up, and was soon
attire , and long before Sir rotten Earle (who
had sworn that Reginald should never cross
his threshold again, and that he, Sir Crofton,
would ruin him)—well, long before the testy
baronet came down, Or even knew of the turn
affairs had taken, Fay and Reginald were
laughing together Over a. comfortable breakfast;
in Sir Crofton’s dining-room.

But this was a good three hours after Regi-
nald’s arrival, for Fay ’s first meeting with him
she had believed lost to her forever was with
no laughter, but with the deepest, most pathetic
feeling.

And Delia? What was she doing at the hour
when Fay and Reginald had reached well-as-
sured happiness? Surely Delia claims our chief
attention, for we havegjourneyed oftenest in her
com my in the course of this recital.

Wleafind her now at the window of a small
saloon which overlooks the Abbey ark and
grounds, with Lindsay b her side. ‘ he misty
sun has strug, led into sig t persistently through
many folds 0 dark gray cloud, and as his rays
brea over the landscape, a sudden glory lights
up the scene. '

“ See, Lindsay.” sa 3 Delia, speaking very
soft and low, “that ovely light through the
gloom is an emblem of my (past days of sorrow.
But the night has gone, an happiness has con-

uered the clouds of grief which hung over me.
(Ilwill forget the bitter past, that dreadful day
when I went to London, and all the rest!”

“ jut you will forgive me if I can never. for-
get that day,” he says, tenderly, as his arm en-
circles her. “You must not ask mete forget
that enchanting moment when, after all my
despair, and I had told you that my heart would
break to live without you, those two sweet
words. ‘ And mine,’ fell, unconsciously, from

 

your lips. ”

END.

 

 

HALF-DIME SINGER’S LIBRARY.

—-—-——M————

1 WEOA. Emmi and 59 other Songs.

2 CAPTAIN CUFF and 57 other Songs,

3 THE GAINSEORO’ HAT and 62 other Songs.

4 JoENNY MORGAN and 60 other Songs.

5 I’LL STRIKE You WITH A FEATHER and 62 others.
6 GEORGE TIIE CEARMER and 56 other Songs.

7 THE BELLE 0E ROCKAWAY and 52 other Songs.

8 YOUNG FELLAII. YOU‘RE Too FIIESII and 60 others
9 SIIY YOUNG GIRL and 65 other Songs.

10 I‘M THE GOVERNOR'S ONLY SON and 58 other Songs.
11 MY FAN and 65 other Songs.

12 COMIN’ ’l‘nRo‘ TIIE RYE and 55 other Songs.

13 THE ROLLICKINO IRISHMAN and 59 other Songs.

14 OLD DOG TRAY and 62 other Songs.

15 WROA. CHARLIE um] 59 other Songs.

16 lN TnIs WHEAT BY AND BY and (3-2 other Songs.
17 NANCY LEE and 58 other Songs.

18 PM Tm: BOY THAT’S BOUND To BLAZE and 57 others.
19 THE Two OIIrnANs and 50 other Songs.

20 WHAT ARE TIIE WILD WAVES SAYING, SISTER!
and 59 other Songs.

21 lNDIGNANT POLLY Woo and 59 other Songs.
22 TEE OLD ARM-CHAIR and 5‘3 other Songs.

23 ON CONEY lsI.ANI) BEACH and 58 other Songs.
24 OLD SIMON. TIIE HOT-CORN MAN and 60 others.

THE

Sunnyside Library.

 

1 LALLA Room. By Thomas Moore . . . . . . . . . . . .. 10c
2 DON JI'AN. .By Lord Byron . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 20c
3 PARADISE LOST. By John Milton . . . . . . . . . . .. 100
4 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. By Sir Walter Scott. 100
5 LUCILE. By Owen Meredith... . . .. . . . . . . .. . 10c
6 UNDINE; on, THE WATER-SPIRIT. From the

German of Frederich De La Motto Fonque.. 100

For sale by all newsdealers, or sent, postage paid.
on receipt Of twe. e cents for single numbers
double numbers twenty-four cents.

ADAMS, VICTOR & (30.. Publishers,
98 William street, N. Y.

 

 

2.3 I’M IN LOVE and 56 other Songs.

’25 PARADE on THE GUARDS and 56 other Songs.

27‘ Yo. IIEAVE. Hoi and 60 other Songs.

‘38 ’TWILL NEVER Do TO Gm IT UP So and 60 others.

29 BLUE BONNETs OVER THE BORDER and 54 otherr.
30 THE MERRY LAUGIIING MAN and 56 other Songs,

31 SWEET FORGET-uE-NOT and 55 other SI 11 (us.

32 LEETLE BABY MINE and 53 other Songs.

3'3 DE BANJO Au DE INSTRUMENT FOR. ME and 53 othen
34 TAFFY and 50 other Songs.

35 J GET TO PLEAsE THE BOYS and 52 other Songs.

36 SEATING ON ONE IN THE GUTTER and 52 others.

37 KOLORED KRANxs and 59 other Songs.

38 NIL DESPERANDUM and 53 other Songs.

39 THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME and 50 other Songs
40 ’TIs BUT A LITTLE FADED FLOWER and 50 others
41 PRETTY WEILIIELXINA and 60 other Songs.

42 DANCING IN THE BARN and 63 other Songs.

43 H. M. S. PINAEORE. COMPLETE, and 17 other Songs

Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents
per copy. or sent post-paid, to any address. on re-
ceipt of Six cents per number.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Panama.
98 WILLIAI STREET. NEW Yoax.

LIVES OF GREAT AMERICANS.

I.——George Washington. VI.—-Do.niel Boone.

IL- —John Paul Jones. VllI.—Ismel Putnam.
III.——MadAnthonyWayne X.—-Tecumseh.
lV.——Ethan Allen. XI.—Ahraham Lincoln.

V.-—Marquis de Lafny- JUL—Pontiac.

ette. XIII.—Ulysses S. Grant.

 

Song Books.
BEADEE'E DIME SONG Booxs. Nos. 1 to 34. containing
the only popular collection of copyright songs.

gicfilgrgielodm‘ }Music and Words.

Joke Books.

Pocket Joke BOok. Jim Crow Joke Book.
Paddy Whack Joke Book.

The above publications for sale by all newsdealera
or will be lent. post-paid, on receipt of price. ten
cents each. by BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM 9
STREET. N. Y.

  

n... y-rngv‘m'vqrzm,y>,,\w 'V-vrvI-mwnvp-

'ln'.‘ v. -«. - -- n‘v

THE

DIME SPEAKERS.

 

 

Each Speaker, 100 pages 12mm, containing from 50 to 75 pieces.

 

Dime American Speaker, No. 1.

Young America,
Birthday of Washington.
Plea for the Maine Law,
Not on the Battlefield,
The Italian Struggle,
Indc )endcnce,

Our ‘ountry,

The Equalit of Man,
Character 0 the Revo‘n,
The Fruits of the War,
The Sewing~Machinc,
True Manhood,

The Mystery of Life,
The Ups and Downs,
The Truly Great,

Emil; Retiring and Ris’g,
A. ard‘s ()ration,

True Nationality,

Our Natal Day,
Solferino,

Intelligence the Basis of "

The War, lLibcrty,
Charge of Light Brigade,
After the Battle,

The Glass Railroad,

Case of Mr. Macbeth,
Prof. on l’lirenology,
Annabel Lee,
Washiiifton’s Name,
The Sa' or Boy‘s Syreii,

Dime National

Union and its Results,
Our Country's Fiitnre,
The Statcsnian’s Labors,
True Immortality,

Let the. Childless Weep,
Our Country‘s Glory,
Union a Household,

lnde ieiideiiee Bell,

The Scholar’s Dignity,
The Cycles of Progress,
A Christmas Chant,
Stability of Christianity,
The True Higher Law,
The (hie (heat Need,
The Ship and the Bird,
Tecumseh‘s Speech,
Territorial Expansion,
Martha Hopkins,

The Basht’ul Man‘s Story,
The Matter-of-FacLMan,
Rich and Poor,

Seeing the Eclipse,
Beauties of the Law,
Ge-lang! Git UD.

The Bats of Life,

Oreo vnlng Glory of U. 8.,
Three Fools,
Washington,

Our Great Inheritance,
Eulogy on Henry Clay,

Dime Patriotic

America to the World,
Love of Countr ,

Right of Sel Preserva-
Our Cause,

[tion,

J. Jebooni‘s Oration,

A Dutch Cure,

The Weather,

The Heated Term,

Philosophy Applied,

An Old Balltu ,

Penny Wise, Pound Fool-

True Cleanliness, lish.
, Sat‘d’y Night‘s Enjoy’ts,
l “ in a Just Cause,"

' !

.No Peace with Opprcs- 3

g sion,

, A Tale of a Mouse,

I A Thanksgiving Sermon,
The Cost of Riches,

“ Great Lives [in )erishable
The Prophecy ortlie Y’r
; Unfinished Problems,
llonor to the Dead,
Immortality of Patriots,

‘ A Vision in the Forum,

3 The Press,

| Woman‘s Rights,

I Right of the Governed,
M Ladder,

I \ onian,

I Alone,
The Rebellion of 1861,

{ Disunion.

Speaker, No. 2.

Ohio,
Oliver Hazard Perry,
()ur Domain
Sx'steiiis of Deliet’,
The Indian Chief,
The Independent Farmer
Mrs. Graniniar‘s Ball,
How the Money Comes,
Future of the Fashions,
Lo) alty to Liberty,

’ and Always,

,' British lnlluencc,

‘ Defense of Jell’erson,

i National Ilatreds,

‘ Murder Will Out,
Strive for the Best,

! Early Rising,

1 Deeds of Kindness,

i Gates of Sleep,
The Bugle.
A lioodish Gem,
Purity of the. Struggle,
Old Age,
Beautiful and True,
The \Vorni of the Still,
Man and the lntlnite.
Language of the Eagle,
“'tisliington,

I The Deluge.

Speaker, No. 3.

A Kentuckian's appeal.
Kentucky Steadfast.
Tiniidity is Treason,
The Alumni,

Webster‘s l’olit'l System, ‘

April 15, 1861.

The Spirit of ’61,

The Precious Heritage,
The Irish Element,
Train‘s Speech,
Christy‘s Speech,

Let Me Alone,
Brigand-icr-Gcneral,

The Draft,

Union Square Speeches,
The Union.

Our Country‘s Call,

The Story of an Oak Tree,
L-e-g On My Leg,
History of Our Flag,

T. F. Meagher‘s Address,
\Ve Owe to the Union,
Lincoln‘s Mi Seage,

Last Speech of Stephen
A. Douglas,

Great Bell Roland,

The New Year and the

King Cotton, [Union,

Battle Anthem,

The Ends of Peace,

Freedom the Watchword

Crisis of Our Nation,

Duty of Christian Pa-
triots,

Turkey Dan‘s Oration,

A Feailess Plea,

The Oniis of Slavery,

A Foreigner‘s Tribute,

The Little Zouave,

, (‘atholic Cathedral
The “ Speculators. ‘

 

Dime Comic Speaker, No. 4.

Klebcvergoss on the War,

. Age llluntly Considered,

Our Country Fiist, Last, ‘

SEC. I.

Early Rising,

The Wasp and the Bee,
Comic Grammar, No. 1,
I‘m Not a Single Maxi,

A. Ward’s Advice,
iiizfiil. on Pickwick,
Romeo and Juliet,
Happiness,

Dogs,

Po ),

A ' exaii Eulogiiun.
How to be, a Fireman,

The United States,

Piiff‘s Acc’tot‘ Himself,
Practical Phrcnology,
Beautiful,

Cabbage,

Disagreeablo People,
What is a Bachelor Like?
Funny Folks,

' A Song of Woe,

Ward's Trip to Richin'd,
Parody,

The Mountehank,
Compound Interest,

A Sermon on the Feet,
Old Dog Jock,

The Fishes‘ Toilet,

Brian O'Linn,

Crockett to Otllce-seekers
Who Is Mv Opponent?
Political Stump Speech,
Comic Grammar. '0. 2,
Farewell to the Bottle,
The Cork Leg,

The Smack in School,
Slick's Definition of Wife,
Tale of a llat.

The, Debating Club,

A Dutch Sermon,
Lecture on Locomotion,
Mrs. Candle on Umbr’lla.

 

Dime Elocutionist, No. 5.

Paist'irms or Tarp: Esrsctnms—Faults

in Enunciation; How to Avoid Them. Special Rules

and Observations.

SEC. II.
the Passions:

Tur. Am‘ or Omroav. Sheridan‘s List of
Tranquillity, Cheeifulness, Mirth.

 

I Raillery, ButYoonei-y, Joy, Delight, Gravity. In-
qiiiry, Attention, Modest v, l'erplexity, Pity, Grief,
Melancholv, Despair, Fear. Shame, Remorse.
Courage. Boasting. Pride. Obstinaey, Authority.
Commanding, Forbidding, Afilrming, Denying,
Difference. Agreeing, Exhorting, Judging, A pprov—
ing, Acqiiltting, Condemning. Teaching, Pardon-
ing, Arguing, Disniissing. Refusing, Granting, De-
; pendenee, Veneration, Hepe, Desire. Love. lie
l spect, Giving. Wonder, Adniiration, Gratitude, ( ii
i riositv, Persuasion, Tempting, Promising, Aflccta-
1 tion, Sloth. Intoxication, Anger, etc.

SEC. III. Tm: (‘onmsas'r ELEMENTS _or AN ORA
TX()N.—thleS of (Joni iosition as applied to Words
and Phrases, viz.: urity, Propriety, P‘l‘GClSloll.
As applied to Sentences, viz.: Length of Sentence,
Clearness, Unity, Strength. Figures of Speech; the
Exordiiun the Narration, the Proposition, the
Confirmation, the Retutation, the Peroration.

 

 

 

Conscience the Best Onlya Tramp,

Guide,
Whom to Honor.
The Lords of Labor,
I-lztrly Rising,
Pumpernickel and Pep-
schikot‘f,

THE DIME SPEAKERS.

 

Cage Them,

Time‘s Soliloquy,

Find a “'ay or Make. It,
The Musquito Hunt,
The Hero.

Dime Funny Speaker. No. 21.

(30]. Sellers Elucidates,

Sthripes,
Terence ()‘Dowd‘s Patri-
I.ime Kiln Club Oration.
Farmer Thornbush on
The Fiddler, [Fools,
The Regular Season,

The School Boy‘s Lament,

Dot Baby ()fl' Mine,

Bluggs nee More,

Views on Agriculture,

(lne liundred Years Ago,

De, ’Sperience oh de Reb’-
rend Quneko Strong,

,A Dollar or Two.

On Some More Iiash.

Where Money is King.

Professor Dinkelspeim-l
man on the Origin of

IAlfO,

Konsentrated Wisdum,
Joseph Brown and the

Mince l’ie,

John Jenkins‘s Sermon.
A Parody on “Tell Me Ye
Winged Winds,"

l A Foggy Day.
Glory Mit Ter Sthars nnd. New Mythology (Vulcan),

[oi/ism,‘ The New lilytlmlogytl’an,)

New Mythology «Bat-chins)

I Kin Nod Trink To—Nighd,

New Church Doctrine,

\\ ilyum‘s \Vatermillion,

Josiah Axtell's Oration,

l'arson Burebones's An-
athema,

(‘n-sar .‘ uash on Heat.

Fritz Va dher is Made. a
Mason,

Joan of Arc,

blessings of Farm Life,

The People,

'l‘hermopylm,

(Kits,

Jim liludso; or, The Prai
rie Belle,

A Catastrophic Ditty,

The Maniac's Defense,

Woman, God Bless Her!

: Be M iserable,

l

l)odds 7'€7‘6'U8 Daubs,
'l‘he (‘adi‘s Judgment,

. ’l‘hat Calf.

Dime Jolly Speaker, No. 22,

(iramlt‘atlier's (‘lock,
The XIXth Century,
Mary's Von Little Rain,
A Familar Lecture on
S('i(‘ll('e,
Old and New Time,
(‘lnyfoot‘s S )irit Race,
The Village .‘ehool.
A Semion for the Sisters,
De l“llosufy 03) Fun.
Disappointed Discoverer,
A Ileathen's Score,
her Dog nnd der Lobster,
'l‘he Youn’: Tramp,
Delights of the Season,
The Iii-liehts of Spring,
J1 uh Billings‘s Views,
lleasteses,
llow
“'ntermellon,

Ilow tew Pik out aDog, ‘

IIou' few I’ik out a Kat,
IIow tew I’ik out aWife
This Side and That,
Nocturnal Mewsings,
Tlie Lnnatic’s Revene,
A Bathetie Ballad,
The Ear,
Backbone,

tew I’ik out al

A \Veuk Fuse.

They May Be Happy Yet,

Orpheus. A Side View,

I’i-rreus. A “(,llflfislt',"

Rigid Reformation,

The l“l'llll_\' Man,

Don't (iive It A way.

A Dark “'arning. A
“ (‘olored " Dissertation

, An Awful Warning. An

Effective Appeal.

De Parson Sowed dc Seed.

Pompey's Thanksgiving
Turkey,

The New Essay On Man.

,A New Declaration of,

, Independence,
; The Jolly Old Fellow. A
(‘hristmas “'elcome,
t My First ('oat,
The Fire-Brigade.
A Patriotic “ Splurge,“
The Good Old Times, In-
deed! A Congratulal ory
Reminder.

Stealingr the Sat-red Fire.
‘ The Story of I’rome-
, theus Modernized,
' Owl and the Pussy-Cat

 

Dime Dialect Speaker, No. 23.

Dat’s W‘at‘s De Matter,
The Mississip 1 Miracle,
Ven Te Tide ‘ooms In.

l

 

The Manifest Destiny ,0!
the Irishman,
Peggy M cCann,

Dose Lams Vot Mary Haf l Sprays from Josh Billin

Got [man's Rights,
Pat O’Flaherty On Wo-
The Home Rulers,
Hezekiah Dawson On

Mothers-In-Law,

IIe Didn‘t Sell The Farm,

The True Story of Frank—
lin‘s Kite, (Again,

I Would I Were a Boy

A l‘athetic Story,

All About a Bee,

Scandal,

A Dark Side View,

Te l’esser Vay

On Learning erman,

Mai  SlimaIIVite Lamb,

A ealthy Discourse,

Tobias So To Speak,

Old Mrs. Grimes,

A Parody.

‘ Mars and Cats,
3 Bill Underwood, Pilot,
t ()ld (lranlev,

l

 

’ The Pill l‘eddler‘s Omtion

Wit (« lt -r( i reen’s last words
Latest Chinese Outrage,

Dime Readings

H

De .(tircunistances ob 
Sitiwation,

Dar‘s Nuflln New Under

, de Sun.

A Negro Religious Poem,

1 That Violin,

‘ Picnic Delights,
Our Candidate‘s Views,
Dundreary's Wisdom,
' Plain Language.
My Neighbor‘s Dogs.
Condensed Mythology,
‘ Pictus,
The Nereides.
Legends of Attica,
: The Stove Pipe Tragedy,
, A Doketor‘s Drubbles,
, The Coming Man,
The Illigant Afiair at Mul-
‘ doon‘s, lthe Corner,
That Little Baby Around
A (ienewine Inference.
‘ An Invitation to the Bird
of Liberty,
The (fl-ow,

 

 

. Out West.

and Recitations.

No. 24.

The Irishman’s Panora-‘When the Cows Come

ma.
The Lightning-rod Agent The
The Tragedy at Four Ace Tommy

Flat,
Ruth and Naomi,
(‘arey of Corson,
Babies,
John Reed,
The ISrakeman at Church
l‘assun Mooah‘s Sur—
mount,
Arguing the Question,
Jim Wolfe and the Cats,
The Dim Old Forest,
Rasher at Home,
The Sergeants Story,
David and Goliah,
Dreaming at Fourscore,
Rum.
Why Should the Spirit of
Mortal be Proud?

‘ The (‘oming Mustache,

 

‘ The Engineers Story,

l, J.

 

l

 

Home,

Donation Party,
Taft,

A liliehiganderin France,
Not One to Spare,

Mrs. Breezy‘s l’ink Lunch

1 Rock of Ages,

Cm sar Pom pe-y
Squash's Sermon,

l Annie‘s Ticket,

l The Newsboy,

; Pat 's Correspondence,

, Death of th‘ Ou-d ‘Squire,

Mein Tog Schneid,
At Elberon.

I The Cry of Womanhood,
' The Judgment Day,

The Burst Bubble,

Curfew Must Not Ring
To-night,

The Swell,

The Water Mill,

Sam‘s Letter,

A Candidate for Presi- i Foots'eps of the Dead,

dent,
Roll Call,
Accession to the Family,

Charity,
An Essay on Cheek. .

For sale by all newsdenlers, or sent, post-paid, to
any address, on receipt of price, ten cents.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Pcnusnnns,
98 Willliam street, New Writ.

THE DIME DIALOGUES.

 

Dime Dialogues. No. 29.

Who Shall Have the Dictionary? For six males and
two females.

The Test of Bravery. For four boys and teacher.

Fortune's Wheel. For four males.

The Little ZEsthe-tes. For six little girls.

The Yes and No of Smoke. For three little boys.

No References. For six gentlemen and three ladies.

An Amazing Good Boy. One male and one female. i

What a Visitation Did. For sevsrai ladies.
Simple Simon. For four little boys.

I
The Red Light. For four males, two females, and l
a

several subsidiaries.

The Sweetest Thought. For four little girls.

The Inhuman Monster. For six ladies and one gen-
tleman.

Three Little Fools. For four small boys.

Beware of the Dog! For three ladies and three
“ Dodgers.”

Bethlehem, For a Sunday-School Class Exhibition.

Joe Hunt's Hunt. For two boys and two girls.

Bags. For six males.

Dime Dialogues. No. 30.

invisible Heroes. For five young ladies.
A “ Colored " Lecture. For four males.
Wishes. For five little boys.

Look at Home. For three little girls.

Fisherman‘s Luck. For two males and three females. 3
‘ Morgan‘s Money. For five males.

Why He Didn‘t lllrc Him. For several characters.

A Fortunate Mis‘ake. For six young ladies, one
little girl and a li'tle boy.

An Alphabetical Menagerie. For a whole school.

The Higher Education. IFor ei 'ht boys.

The Vicissitudes of a Milhncr. or six females.

(fat and Dog. For two little ones.

'i‘hul- ."Esthete Cured. For two ladies and three gen-
t euien.

.lim Broderick‘s Lesson. For two boys.

The Other Side of the Storv. For five females.

The Test that Told For five males.

Wooing by Proxy. For two ladies and three gentle-
Illt'n.

Learning from Evil. For five boys.

The Teacher‘s Ruse. For ten boys and three girls.

(folio uy of Nations. For eleven personators.

Additional Personations for “ Goddess of Liberty.“ .

A scenic piece in Dialogues No. 21.

Dime Dialogues. No 31.

Barr‘s Boarders. For various characters.

A lively Afternoon. For six males.

A New Mother Hubbard. For six little girls.

Bread on the Waters. For four females.

Forninst the Scientists. For two males.

Sloman‘s Angel. For two males and one female.

What Each Would Do. For six little girls.

Twentv Dollars a Lesson. Fur elevon males.

Aunt Betsey‘s Ruse. For three females and one
male.

The. Disconcerted Supernaturallst. For one main ‘
and audience “ volc«-s." i

Grandma Grumhleton's Protest. For a “grandma”
and several girl grandchild ren. ‘

Nothing Like Training. For a number of males. 3

The Bubble. For two little gi ls.

Medicine for Rheumatiz. For two “ cullud pussons." '

That Book Agent! For three males and one female.

The Well Taught Lesson. For five little boys.

A Turn of the Tide. For three male and three fe-
male characters.

A True (‘arpet-Bagger. For three females.

Applied Metaphysics. For six males.

Whati Humphrey Did. For five males and three fe—
ma es.

Dime Dialogues. No 32.

A Persecuted Man. For various characters.

Too Curious for Comfort. For two males and two
females.

Ux‘i‘der False Guise. For several females and chil-

ren.

A Sure Guide. For seven males.

The Eight Little Boys from Nonsense Land.

How They See the World. For five little girls.

The Doctor‘s Office. For several characters male
and female.

Too Much Sirie Show. For a number of boys.

Kiwi-Mrs. Pondl-rous Was Paid. For four young
Eu les. .

Polywog Versus Wolypog. For numerous citize us.

’l‘oxwue and Tt’lllp‘T. For two ladies.

The Flour of the Family. For three ladies and one
centleman.

Mill'lieinn’s Mistake. For five males.

A Valuable Neighbor. For one lady and one boy.

? The Man of Cheek. For two males.

Mr. and Mrs. Blizzard at Home. For man and wife.

’l‘ln-lCourtship of Miles Standish. For School Festi‘
va .

Drums and Readings. 20 cents.
DRAMAS.

The, Hypochondriuc. For five characters.

The Retrieved Name. For fifteen characters.

A Moonli ht Masquerade. For fourteen ladies.

Matches .l ade in Attics. [for five characters.

Dandelions. For sewn characters.

Lottie's Leap Year Victory. For four characters.

The Friend in Disguise. For six leading characters
and several subsidiarix 

READINGS AND RECXTATIONS.

Parrhasius and the Cap- The Last of Little Nell.

 

tiVe The. Raven.
How to Practice Medi- Mary's Lamb.
cine. William Brown of Oregon

Ramon, the H: ro of El Larry O'Leary‘s Ghost.
Refugio Minn, Which Shall I! Be?

The Bridge of Sighs. Go Feel What I Have

A Lecture. on Matrimony. Felt.

A Rumble in the Vv'omi. Hamlet and O helia.

Grandmother‘s Notions. Scene in a Mm Jlousc.

Nimiu': the Buhv. The New Baby.

Address to the Comet. Red Riding Hood.

 

 

For sale by all newsdealers. or will be, sent, post-
paid. to any address. on receipt of pl‘ii't‘, ten cents.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, I’rnusnnns.
98 William Street, New York.

I»

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

fit

WW._v-.»w

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMAJE AAAAAAAAAA'AA A AAAAAAAAAAAA A AA ‘

 

. w W x MWWMnrr’vavM-wrrrw

k
\
\
\
S
2
\
t
k
\
\

  

 

 

 

POPULAR

DIME I‘IAND-BOOKS.

DEADLE AND ADAMS, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK.

Each column 100 lflmo pages, sent post-paid on receipt of price—ten cent: each.

GAME AND PASTIME SERIES.

HAND-BOOK OF SUMMER SPORTS—Comprising Walking, Running, Jump-
ing Hare and Hounds, Bicycling, Archery, etc. With Complete American
and English Athletic Rules.

HAND-301K 0F WINTER SPORTS. Embracln Skating, (on the ice and on
rollers,) Rink-Ball, Curling, Ice-Boating and F00 ball.

HAND-BOOK OF PEDESTRIANISM—Giving the Rules for Training and ‘Prac~
two in Walking, Running, Leaping, Vaulting, etc.

CRICKET AND FOOT-BALL—A desirable Companion, containin‘: complete
instructions in th, (lements of Boulin', Batting and Fielding; :1 so the Re-
vised Laws of the Game: Remarks on the, Duties of Umpires; the Mary-le-Bone
Cricket Club Rules and Regulations; Bets, etc.

DIME BOOK OF CROQUET—A complete nide to the game, with the latest
rules, diagrams, Croquet Dictionary, Par or Croquet, etc.

DIME GUIDE TO SWIMMING—Embracing all the rules of the art for both
sexes.

YACHTING AND ROWING—This volume will he found very complete as a,
guide to the conduct of watercraft, and full of interesting infornmtion ulike to
the amateur and the novice.

RIDING AND DRIVING—A sure guide to correct Horsemanship, with com-
plete directions for the road and field; and a specific section of directions and
information for female equestrians.

BOOK OF 100 GAMES—Out-door and In-door SUMMER GAMES, for Tourists
and Families in the Country, Picnics, etc., comprising 100 Games, Fort‘eits, etc.

DIME CHESS INSTRUCTOR—A complete hand-book of instruction, giving
the entertaining mysteries of this most interesting and fascinating ot games.

YOUNG PEOPLE’S SERIES.

l-DIHE GENTS’ LETTER-WRITER—Emhracing Forms, Models, Suggestions
and Rules for the use of all classes, on all Occasions.

2—DI "E BOOK OF E’l‘IQUETTE—For Ladies and Gentlemen: being a Guide to
True Gentility and (mod-Breeding, and u Directory to the Usage-s of society.

3—DIME BOOK 01" V l-iRSES—Comprising Verses for Valentines, Mottoes, Coup-
lets St. Valentino Verses, Bridal and Marriage Verses, Verses of Love, etc.

4—DIhiE BOOK OF DREAMS—Their Romance and Mysterv; with a complete
inter reting Dictionary. Compiled from the roost accredited sources.

5—DIM FORTUNE-TEL LEE—Comprising the art of Fortune-Telling, how to
read Character, etc. .

6—DI 1E LADIES’ LETTER-WRITER—Giving the various forms of Letters of
School Days, Love and Friendship, of Soeietv, etc. _

7—DIME LOVERS’ CASKET—A Treatise and Guide to Friendship, Love, Court.-
ship and Marriage. Embracian also :1 complete Floral lhctiomtryxcte.

8—DIME BALL-ROOM COMPANION—And Guide to Dancmg Givmg rulns
of Eti ur-tte, hints on Private Parties, toilettes for the Ball-room, etc.

12—DIM K OF BEAUTY—A delightful book, full of interesting lllftfl'mtl‘
tion. It deserves a place in the hands of every one who would be beautiful.

FAMILY SERIES.
1. DIME COOK BOOK. 4. DIME FAMILY PHYSICIAN.
2. DIME RECIPE BOOK. 5. DIXIE DRESSMAKING AND MID
3. DIME IIOUSEWIFE‘S MANUAL. LINERY.
[37" The above hooks are sold by Newsdealcrs everywhere, or will be sent,
W’~])aitl, to any address. on receipt of price, 10 cents each. DEADLE 8: ADAMS,
Publishers, 98 William street, New York.

,4. ,v I~W~W

M,

 

 

 

t~m~MMW~MWVVM MW.» -.

 

     

 

VVVYVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

 

 

 

\VYYVVVYYVY.YVYVVVVVVVVVVYfiy_VVVVAYYVYY

 

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

 

PUBLISHED 1'} V 1'11? Y TUESDA Y. / l
l

 

—/ Waverley Librari/
\ \ /

TIIIIi’TllTlVU ()(V'TA VO PAGES.

A Bride of“ Day: 01‘, Tim Elwin-y nl' \\'inil'rn-l  A " 'l'lu- Hullqul‘t Gll‘l. llx' Agile l‘z-mlv.

lml'." x. I) ' liir} linen-fl ('rmvi-ll. I illurlulllhllu- l’rnml llumml li\ Arnlmllu Sunlllwnrlh
The (.‘.|.'| “ no; nr, l‘ln- Tim and lln- him». By , ’l‘llo Elm" Musk; or, ’l‘lm'llxslrrluus Guardian.

“J'H'W 1" ("m l’”’“‘ IL\' Mr». .\l:|r\ “A‘I‘Il "I'nu‘u-ll.

“'1” [1 [An-9V? Ill" ('nlll-ziuns llllll Sin-4 leurts. ll} ‘ A Lu'uy 'I‘emplc. llnuglih-r ul l‘luu'li-llc.

\Vm. Mus m 'lnrm-r, .\l. l). i 1"“. 'l‘hrro fihtvrm 14“. Ah“. Fluminu.
Murrlod I" "‘“10‘ .".‘ “V” Wll‘\\“l"il- ‘ ' The ('rl'ule Shim“. ll‘v \lrs. Anna E. l’urtor.
“1” MI“ “""rfi' "ll": ""y'l‘lll' Mil-4m! “I'M”. ‘ .' A )lalrrhuzo offal:\‘onlonvo. lSvSnmCluxtnn.

“.V Mr“ 51"") “1"”! ("""“"H- A 'l he “' “1"! Storm. liv l'ml. .lunn'ln-win.

‘ lll- Luwlul \\ Ho: hr, Myra, iln- (Tliilil i-l MW ‘ Mr Archer»! “rm”. ‘1;\ Arum-11“ Sunlllwfll’lll.
tin". HIV .\l|,~. Aim 5. fill-plum», : Led A~lrny . lh' ()1'l)|\'¢‘ l'trlzlllvl.
A Fulr Flu-c; or, Hut Ill tluv Wurlxl. lh’ lliutlvy ’l‘, llulllt‘loml; or, ’l‘}\vn(n-1.lmn (izrls in New York. lly

('umplu-ll. .\llwrl \V. Alln-n.

1‘ “Nd. :‘Iurrhlgvl "r‘ T““ l""” \Vin- H) MW," _ 'I‘IN' .‘IHIIIIH‘ Iii-Me. “V Mnr'nrot lllmmt.

"- l""""""'. _ . l'lwlgml i0 Murry. “VS 'nl‘luxtun.

1‘ "ullfzhll‘r 0' I‘d 1‘: or. lllilulwl Ivy lmvv. Hy ' (“-(.||',‘ "900". ];\v_\1rl,]',.,,xm. hm“. "urn".
3"" >‘ "r" R""" (‘r"“" H- Ih‘lfll‘lm‘. llu- Heuulll'nl; or, llis Swami Low.
TIH' "Niko" "OUT"! lml ; nr, lune \1-I‘nns Hutu. lly .‘\r:xlu-ll:| vallllnvm'lll.
“.V “W “"m'“ “ull'mm ' " “Ill-nut “em-y . In» “min '1‘. (‘Hlnl‘lwlL
1| Th“ "rm" "f “" ""‘"."i "1" Driven l'wm llw'nv. n. The Ilurmu-t‘n Sow-6t. lh‘ Sum (‘lnxtnm

“V "l" ““flwr "1‘" "I‘m" 1“ 1”“ \\" 'l L” ""Vv' " ‘ J‘fl‘lu‘! "000. tlli‘ 1‘01 rt‘m-i "7.”11‘ linnmm'c of a
12 A I’nlr "lifll'llfi' Elven; or, 'l m- limumlll Xv: Lawn iiuliy liihm liv \\'m. Mum-n lur i‘l'. ll. l).

“y RM" ""Hmul-‘l' ,\ \Vldth‘l “'Ilvn. l’-\ Ilurllvl lh-Iululnll.
1“ “VI'IW'” " "‘""'" H“ H'" """“‘l"‘ '“L'mi' '='I- “Ill "0 Love "or? ‘n' lin tlvv ’l‘. (fumlil. ll.
‘4 Al""" I" “W “FT”: "‘31,!" Y""”' MW" “WWI. . Alumni in II!" I’tnuivu ‘lV-LllllilllI.1l\¢‘]ll\.

“3' 1"" AMP" "l " H?" “I'illv- vl “II "I 1"l'."rlr.. rrr. Mm Did Not Love lllm. ' liv Arubnllk South-
”; Mimln-rlrnn: {nu 'l'in- l-Lrnu-r‘sSuwth-.ivz. 1'” (ml, warm, '

’n-nlha ‘u‘l'umm. ' 1 .i.‘ . ‘ ' - ' ' ‘ li' \\' I.
Hi The Soon-l Mun-lump. llv SnrM‘lsn-lun. "$7.55, ’]!.‘.:il3rl:(i)\ll.fl)‘,lu “ "Pk “Pl. " n
17 F‘I'fll‘l‘ llflll'll‘d HIIH‘I': “l’. Tl!“ |:l\“lll"\ n! llmu'ls.  A “fine Girl. l3\' Alll'l' l'lv-miny.

"y M“ M”er “""I ("""""H' " Lord Rulh'u Mn. ‘Hx- Hum-2mm llll'lx’i'll!”
Ilmlrl. to "curl: w, l":lll' l'll}lllx‘,i lmul. ll) A “ law“ “on”. 11‘- gfl," Huh".

Aruba-Ila Nullluwl'lll. I'll IIA-url'n “In! I'm-l1. l‘v Arulu-llu Sunlllworlll.

19 P3010 fur “0M: “1‘, Alumni. Lust. “5' MI". 31- V- ‘ The Only lluuzhn-r. I1): All4(‘l"l1‘llllllfl.
“’lly l Alurrlwl lllm? liysurnl‘luxlon.
Ilmmr Ihmml. Ii) Liliinn [mu-jig:
;\ Hull‘s Mu. l'._\' l‘u-u \\ in\\lmtl.
Ill~ 0w" Aguln. lllv Amlwllu Sv-Illllu'nrlll.
[\drlu, the Adopted. l1) .ltlllllr l):|\ip\ liurtnn.
Ih‘ollwr‘n Flu. lh' lim-lwl lh-rnlvnrnlt.I
-- - h - A '- . lh’ Alim- "ll'llllll .
28 Hlllllod Auulnut, 1"- (‘lnrn AllL’llKlu l\h;:‘;;:l"fl.v|‘il1:2|:|::.lh::v I‘m“) meim. a
2‘ A LIH'Ill Inner. llv Arulu-lln .‘hnulnvnrlli. for “It. “"Hnll“ I“. llu‘lc‘L BY Aun".§' Mn".
25 The (‘nunlry l'mn-lu. l-.- liv‘u‘ Kl‘llllI-tl). ‘ Mirth”,- ' ’
2“ “:7 “algal”; 'l'lllq-l Ill-Slurrml .\l:u'ri:l;_u-. lly Mrs. Forbidden "5"”, H}- Arnlwllu Sunlltwhrlli.
airy l-w .qu't' " | l u l'n' z‘lit'v l'lmnln".
2? Fllirtlfillml: “nil?! Yllulml' mill.“ “M N“““" “-‘ : . “leuixtmlilglll.:nsi'r. Hi mm... mil-in}.
.um-I; v-unnv I. ll :<\:I 4 i, v V ‘ ‘ ' ‘
28 Now uIIII Val-over: 'I-r. \\’li)' l>ill slip Murm- lli-n? I ' ' ‘\ “ """""" “ “"lu‘r-‘l- "" S‘m‘ H'W’NL
‘ ll.“ ““”""‘U” T'”" l\"""|.\~ ' l .' ,\ Smillllng Ordeal. lly .\lr,~. th-nrgimm Dickonn.
I . , ,. -'. . . ‘ V  i
a" ozlxghclz'h. $311.32.!“ “mm "HI' Md!" 1”“ 11”" (Dululilml by Horn-If. My Arabella Sunlhworlli.
9.0 (‘h'urlollc 'l't-mplo. llv Mrs. llmm-n. '” “'lult Joulmuy "Id. liy Alir-u Fleming.
3| l“2.14:.lllLlliflflrohn3 til,[ ian r in Il‘ll‘l. Ry Mm. I“ “."mnn." “unouvor. “IV “mm. lwwpyi
82 Leap. Year; m. \\‘h_\ ~¥l ‘- l‘inluw-«l. llySiimF‘nv V .\ Fulol'ul (-‘anno. Ily Mm (‘l |\ln|‘.
[ML - . . . \ , |!\ (Swrglnn'l l‘ir‘nmm.
33 In Npltv 4‘)" "cu-«Alf: “I, JrullI-llr's Rupumlinn. ‘ A mafvfli‘Hrffiy'“l '
I' S. It. 5 IN“ vvul. . - I
I, I ..\r l‘.“00\‘4“‘ "0r FUr' ""0. “g Vilmuwrm‘mw. i "unified lll‘nurlfl. Hy Knollch lu'ymlmrill. anli.
“a” 'l he (‘IIIHIIl "rilflwu. ll} .\|l‘$‘ \lilv‘y \. Deni-1.". l‘z-lrl'uurj.’ L.
3“ (Duly n HPIIINIIIIUNII'U‘AI. Anilmllu Smiliwnrtli. ‘ “In-lug n "curt. ll) 1.:lll‘l|| ling“); RPM}.
37 The \Ylmzwl .\|r~~n-ngor: wr. “idling: All tor u l“."l:|lll|l'\ 'J.

“curly. “y Mr. .\I nu liiwul l'r -w<-I|.

88 “’a- Nlle u (‘mm Ho! Ar. ‘\ Sirungo ('uurt.liil._
llv Hamil-1m lllcu-lzm'm.
89 (hie “'nmnn‘a "mu-l. lh' Nil-r; S. Kuilm'. l'mlcl- u (10ml. l1} Snrzu lnxhuh {wily Fri-I’ll-
40 Love-HM: “l‘.ylh-lrullu~tl, “mini, llivurrul nml :n_\' ~51.

By Wm. Mum" lurm-r, M. ll. 1"“. (‘04, of 5. Fully, ll) (lwivxinuzi Dickens.
41 For Her Dear “like. “3‘ Sum (Iluxtnn. l‘wmly “all 1. 1'.

,fiv ,«xlvf 5A»<»_,,—,/~//~,_///f///,

-
._..
-. ‘Y m-

--A'

--
v'

\ u't >r.

20 Elnunglml; IV)" A Dungrrnus Humv. ll. llvnrH-tlu ‘
'1 mr sum)" ‘

2] lNyhll (Hump: “r, 'l‘lm (-‘mnlvller's “'il'v'. “y Mrs.
Ann 5. Stu-plh-m.

22 ’l‘runt, "er No! ; ur, A 'l‘rm- Kniulil. lly ,\lnl".::|rrl

Lulu-HIM:

haw—h-raw"

- o».
v-
4 - ,,,,/N,/,,,,-VW_,~M / r/x/l/ffwv.

qypr)o).;n.).)»)

1"!

’I
5‘
v.

A llrnxwrniu t-‘xunc. l?) Al‘.llulll| Si.u~_).“v,,,ull
llrmli i‘llvmuw ii.

The \anm‘loy Library is for sale by all newsdcalcrs, five cents per copy, or
sent by mail on receipt of six cents each.

CJjncdea and. A (hung. l’ublishafls’
l 4 No. 98 William street, New York.

I

{L's} v »- KG ' 4 r v « .I/IIINWMAMAN

 ___ -