LC nyrizhtad, INS, by HHADLR AM) Annm.

Enlvrml m. Hm Post Oflica M New York, N. Y., as Second Cluss Mnil Mutter.

:

April ~28. 1885.

 

$2.50
a Year.

VOL. IV.

PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS.
N0. 93 William Street, New York.

_ Price.
Five Cents.

NO. 49.

 

 

 

 

“HE LOVES ANOTHER—ANOTHER‘" mm voxcn: SINKING ALMOST To A WHISPER, AND, WITH A
GESTURE 0F REPUDIATION SHE MOVED TOWARD THE DOOR.
I

THE WIPE’S SECRET;

,Or, "I'WIXT CUP AND LIP.
BY 00L. JUAN LEWIS.

CHAPTER I.
THE BRIDE THAT WAS TO BE.
“ "’Twm'r cup and lip there is many a. slip,’
youknow, Mrs. Alpine.”

“ Quite possible, Mr. Bookout, but the ada go
is hardly applicable to Iola’s marriage. The

ay was named a. year ago, and though the
groom has been delayed in reaching home, all is
settled and it must go on. Yom quotationisill—
timed.”

“ Nevertheless. I Wish the wedding could have
been postponed,” was the response in so ave
a tone that the fashionable lady start and
dfew herself proudly up with a. glance of
at am.

 

   

TEE WIFE’S SECRET.

 

' The scene was the luxurious drawing-room of an
elegant residence at Washington Heights, and the
lady was mistress of the mansion, and the gentleman
her trusted adviser and friend.

“ if there were any reasons. Mr. Bookout?" she
said slowly after a moment‘s silence, while the color
faded from her cheeks.

“If there are reasons," he responded, but with
s ial emphasis, “ it is too late to urge them now.

till, as we know, Mrs. Alpine, the hap iness of a
life should never be left to any possibles ocki l’ar-
don and forget my quotation. Ah, here comes Mr.
Alpine."

The lady turned away the steady gaze with which
she had apparently sought a dee er meaning, and
with a slight gesture of her shape y hand accepted
his apologetic bow. '

' A stately gentleman of fifty-seven, With an‘ air of
mastership almost pompous—who had been in con-
sultation with a woman wearing: a bunch of house-

keeper’s keys at her girdle, at the further end of the ,

lon apartment—rapidly came forward With ex-
ten ed hand and leasant words of greeting.

“What is that hear about quotations?" he ques-
tioned. “ But I beg3 you will not repeat, whatever
it may have been. ookout’s attempts in that direc-
tion, my dear "—turning to the lady—“ always par-
take of the nature of the law. .
As well mi ht the Sphinx attempt to Jokc.’ _

The leg gentleman bowed with entire tranquil-

lit of manner, as if he had long ago learned to lie
to erant of his friend’s opinion.
‘ Not a thin, spare man ‘ke his host—but StTO' g of
limb and broad of shoulders—with deep-set eyes,
under overhanging brows; he looked like one deep
in family secrets—one who could analyze liuniaii
passions and weakness very much asan experienced
surgeon does the human cadaver.

“ But I am glad you came thus early,” continued
Mr. Al ine, shaking hands for the second time with
his visitor. “It will be an hour yet bciore the cere-
mony comes off. Come back into the library. I
have received a letter, and a proposal concerning a,

ardianship, and an old Illui‘Sh property on the

ersey coast "——in a lower tone—“ which you must
hear. I See you are looking for Iola, but the young
thing is doubtless busy with the wonderful myste-
ries of her bridal toilet. Camel Mrs. Alpine will
excuse us, I am sure?"

“Most certainly,” assented the lady, turning to-
ward them from the table, where she had paused
for a moment trifling with the rich profusion of
flowers it displayed—as if no thought of weightier
import than the selection olia rose, or the choice
eta (er-fume, hadever troubled the even tenor of
her ashionable emstence.

There was no trace now on her handsome features
of that sudden paleness—no alarm in the brilliant

eyes as she looked from her husband to his friend. '

A lady of forty-three or four, but looking much
younger-attired in perfect taste.

The gentlemen bowed to her in tern orary adieu,
and Mr. Alpine kissed the fair hand s e extended.

She watched them calmly—still, toving With her
flowers as the slowly wit drew. talking as they
went; outwardfy smiling until the door closed be-
hind them, when an instant change Succeeded, and
she began to walk nervously to and fro.‘

“The Sphinx." she repeated. recalling the rep
mark of her husband in speaking of his friend.—
“even sol I have always dreaded him and his
shadowy subtleties. Strange how strongly he has
bound himself to Mr. Alpinel Even my influence
would i.‘ in the absence of an assigned motive, to
counter his power. But what, after all these
years, have I to fear? Let me look amoment at
the reflection in the mirror of that darkest e isode
oi! the past and nerve myself. For, wha will

e—may come.”

e sunk into a egeasy-chair and remained for
some moments wiéfirfier

soft toidsm film: lace.

clouded features hidden in

 

Forbear, my friend. ,

l The dusky shadows of the coming night rapidly
‘ gathered around her and at length recalled her
wandering thoughts to the ceremony to which her
i husband had alluded.
“ Dear girl," she breathed, “_ so floung—so 1mm.
cent! Oh, may she be ha lpy in t elove she has
1 chosen! And if the memo ‘y of. parental wretched-
iiess iiuds compensation in the Joy of children, then
may she—ma both—b0 doubly blessed for the ha
piness denie me! But hush! not even the wa a
must hear my sighs. Be mute, my heart, as when
torture-torn of old."

A moment later and the housekeeper again ap~
' pearcd, a tall angular woman, severe of face and
i resolute of voice—preceding a servant, who under
‘ her instructions, speedily threw a brilliant flood of
light on the scene from the massive chandeliers——
i bii‘ngmg out the rich tints and harmonious colorinv
i} of furnisfliint anjd adogiment, with almost man-
;ica e co . 5 ie louse ee er was followin the

servant outthe lady called bar: 3

f‘ Mrs. Wigsinith—ouc momentl Whereis 1011»—
‘ Miss Marl?" I .

Before the question could he answered there was a
rustling outsule—a rush of eager footsteps—and a.
young girl. fan: as a summer sky, beautiful as a
dream of Eden, in her bridal robes
m‘and threw herself at Mrs. Alpine’s feet.

Dear mammal—that is to be!" she cried in ac-
cents oi enchanting sweetness. “Icould not resist
the desu‘e of my heart, that you, you alone should
I be first to see me dressed as—as— ’ .
‘ “‘ASllbl'ldel" interposed Mrs. Alpine, encourag-
ingiy, as the girl faltered at the word. “My clar-
11112. Why should you hesitate at the name? The
synonym of happiness, of trust, of love—the estate
that comes to no woman in its perfect fullness but
once! Sure] my Iola is happy?"

"Surelyl et now that it is so near I tremble and
doubt as if I did not know that nothing could mar
the happiness I have staked upon it. Foolish, dear
n.i.mma, I know—and wicked against Edward, too—
bi.‘.-1. indeed indeed, the bright anticipations of the
hour have een half hidden and obscured by tears
and doubts I cannot define or banish! Pity me,
pi me! for awayward thing,” I

he handsome head with its luxuriantwealth of
nLtvbrown hair, was gathered in an instant tothe
sympathetic, matronly bosom, and the round fair
arms went soothingly and protectingly around the
young girl in a loving embrace.

“101a! Nay, look upl Do not fear to meet my
gaze. you love Edward Alpineifi _

"Indeed—indeed, » how could it be otherWise?
cried the girl. "But (you know he has been abroad
more than a year, an suppose—«Sup e he should
have seen someone he hkes better?

Mrs. Alpine looked a little startled at the Suggeg-

tion. a I _

"I cannot suppose anything of the kind,” she (13.
clared, firmly. ‘ His letters have been regular, have
explained his prolonged absence, and always ex.
pressed his devotion to on. Banish your doubts,
my dear, if they are dou ts. Edward arrived at a
late hour yesterday, as you. know, and Mr. Alpine’s
anxiety ended in determinin that the wedding
should take place as prime .y intended. He ex.
pects the young man everyniinute. Everything is
arranged. The few old family friends who are to be
present are now assembhnz; the reverend cler .
man has arrived, and is even now waiting in
robes of office; and, mgndarling, all doubtin team
are traitors to true ppmossl Hush: onder
comes Mr. Bookout, followed b Edward‘s father.”

She lifted her to her feet as s is s oke. and stand.
ing thus, with arms entwined toga er, the two pre.
sented an attractive picture.

Mr. Alpine appeared to think so too, for he paused
lrresolutely and thrust a letter which he carried in
his hand-with some apparent purpose or appealing

 

tohiswif uieti out of ht.
“How ml: afike Makers." commented Mr.

came hurrying .

  

;.

i
g,

4A“ ,3.

  

m WIFE’B sncanr. I ., ..

 

Bookout, watching the effect of‘ his words; "likel

an elder and youn r sister.”

“Yes—though
like mother and daughter. rather. But comel Our
congratulations are rst in order, I know," he adds
ed, with proud satisfaction, advancing to the ladies.

“Ned ought to See you thus," he continued, ad-
dressing them. “ The young scion of a noble house
loses much by not coming home earlier. But never
mind! He Will make amends for it when he does
come. His wandering days are mostl over, we
maybe sure. Mistress [013. will soon anc ior the lad
in quieter moorings. In brief, the new leaf he has
peetn’always talking of turning will be turned at
as .

Mr. Bookout lingering a little in the background
and hearing all these indications of pleasing antici-
pations, looked from one to the other with his hand
upon his chin, while for asingle instant a fleeting ex-
pression akin to commiseration was distinctly visible
as his lance rested on the young irl.

At t at moment the sound 0 wheels rapidly
driven came to their ears.

CHAPTER II.
A SINISTER unssnnam.

Tma was a. breahtless silence, which ended with
the sound of approaching steps.

“Ned, at last!” declared Mr. Alpine, rcjoicingly,
advancing with rather more haste than his usually
stately manner warranted, and clasping his wife’s
jeweled fingers expectantly.

“Our Ned, at lastl“ he repeated, and with a ges-
ture toward the adjoining parlors the sliding doors
rolled backward, revealing the assembled guests and
the clergyman in waiting.

Mr. Bookout at the same instant seized Iola’s
hand, drawing her a little to one side, while all
turned toward the entrance.

The hahjdoor was flung open, and a young man
advanced into the stronger light. .

llr. Alpine recoiled in undefined alarm, but the
law or appeared to recognize the stranger.

“ oug as Owen?" he said, in a tone half surprise
and half assertion.

. “ Yes, sir—yes. Mr; Alpine "—he looked from one
to the other—“ your son, who was to have been
married—”

“Good Heavenl” interrupted Mr. Alpine. with a.
sudden outburst. “He is dead!”

His voxce rung thrillineg through the room.

Douglass Owen shivered from head to foot like one
who has (inst taken his first plunge into an ice-cold
bath, an then his eolor rose like a fever flush.

“Sir,” he cried, “ and madame and you,” he
bowed low and his voice sunk as e looked at the

 

young 31—“ Edward Alpine is not dead! He is not

even .

“ Not ill?” thundered the courtly old gentleman,

asyoice and manner completel changed, and his

face crimsoned with wrath an shame. ‘ Not illl

not dead! I would he were i” he added bitterly as the

'oung irl in her bridal robes fell. half-fainting into
pme’s arms.

“ Away, sir; you have done your worst—we need
no e lanations”—as Owen was about to speak.
“ Tell ‘ that he is no longer my sou—though she “
—— he looked at Iola - “ shall be our daughter.
Go l” he added in amilder tone.

The yo man still hesitated and glanced at 1013.
as if he wo d speak to her, but a look at Mr. Book-
out who was watching him steadily. caused him to
yield this scarce apparent purpose, and hastily
“fiat?” quick! in am d :1:

e awyer o owe m an over 00
him in the hall. y

There was no surprise in his tones or esture at
the information brought—no a arent eslre for
particulars. He only asked—“ re isthle sewer
or wild oats Owen?"

“Going abroad again, sir: he declared his inten-
tion of doing so at once. after reading your letter.
He Was despondent and desperate.”

never noticed it before. Yes— ,

_ ward, in a

“Ay? ayr' mused Mr. Bookout, caressing his
chin and reflectiver weighing the information.
“ He sent no me e, Owen?"

“No, sir. Iwas say what I chose.‘ He would
not he declared, add the insult of an apology."

The lawyer nodded.

“I recognize the spirit of that declaration," he
said imperturbably. “Desperate? I think on said,
Owen? Let events take their course. All ebetier
for the hopes you have been entertaining," witha
glance like the sudden thrust of a knife.

The young man flushed and his gaze reverted to-
wlard the room he had just left, with a passionate
g eam.

“But entertained with your approval, Mr. Book-
out, ou know," he asserted.

“ um! Possibly—so longas you are guided by
me. Yet be cautious how you even look—much less
express any feeling you may entertain. Remem-
berl—no advance toward her until you receive the
permission from me."

“ I shall remember," he declared in a voice scarce-
ly above a whisper and a re etition of the backward
glance at the parlor, with he passionate gleam in

use es.

Hey started abruptly, and Mr. Bookout also fell
back and began moving away for the door opened
an? Iola, glancing into the hall, came hurriedly
ou .

There were traces of tears upon her cheeksTof
wounded pride—of personal regret—of disappomt-
ment for others; but she bore herself proudly. '

" I am glad to find you still here," she said, sim-
fly; “for I have a message to send to—to him,”
bhe paused a moment to gather veice, which had
faltered a little, and drew from her forefinger a
ring—the engagement ring.

“Take this.’ she sai , ‘and when placing it in

v his hand an that whatever my personal regrets
might have een they are swallowedu in fervent
iness. I feel that e loves an-

wishes for his hep
other—and I—I cou not take a divided hea ." '

Glanciug sharply about him Owen saw that Mr.
Bookout, with his ands behind him, was withdraw-
ing toward the lower end of the hall.

“You believe, then, that love is beyond our con-'
trol‘!” he asked, with strange eagerness.

The luminous eye of the young girl opened wide-
ly with apparent surprise at the intensity of his

tone and manner as he asked the question.’
I “ In part—yes 1" she responded. gathering her soft
dra ones about her to leave him.
ere was a. sound of feet from‘the open doorway,
and the old lawyer looked around and returned to-
ward thcm. r

Douglass Owen drew back, and the glow of passion
dropped out of his face, leaving it darkly white.

“ Owen,” said Mr. Bookout, rubbing his hands to-
gether, “ I see there is a moon to-night, so that our
rule down-town cannot fail to beattractive. If was
sure that I should find this wretched young man.
Ned Alpine, still at his hotel"——with a demonstra-
tion of sudden er, and a. gesture toward the city—

“ I would go wit you, Mr. Owen. Good-night. shy.
and a pleasant journey. The road to town is smooth
and safe—quite as safe as this hallway, or I should
add, ‘ Be c-a-r-e-f-u-l.’ ”

He slow] uttered the last words looking back-
ne quite ordinary, but with a meaning
that the young man did not mistake.

He had. ah'eady drawn the young irl’s hand
Enough his arm and was moving tower the draw-

room. '

he was silent, but her mind had sudden] become
ac_iv$i; the lawyer‘s last words had given or an in-
spire on.

 

CHAPTER 111.
m mcmr Devan.
Ir was at the close of that early summer day.
A youn man came hurriedly out of a gunsmith’s
shop on roadway. thrusting something he had just
, pure d. into his breast with a halt-furtlve, halt-

 

""‘I THE WIFE’S SECRET.

 

impatient movement, and, glancing up and down,
strode rapidly awag.

In a moment he ad reached the corner and was
in the act of crossing, but sprung back to avoid a
passing carriage, in oing which e lost his footing
and striving to save himself, fell heavily, his head
striking the curb.

There was a. slight cry from. within the carriage,
anda handsome woman‘s face looked out, with a
glance of apprehension and a word to the driver,
instantly succeeded bya gesture of recognition.

The driver 5 rung down from the box, while the
lady impulsive y threw open the door.

‘ Iknow the gentleman,” she said to the police-
man and the crowd which instantly gathered. " He
is hurt. Lift him into the carriage.”

“Not so serious as that,” responded the young
man. rallying with a great effort, but looking very
pale and confused.

“No apology, Mr. Alpine ” said the lady. “Surely
you remember me—your late fellow passenger on

he steamer.” speaking rapidly. “ I am stopping at
the same hotel as yourself. Let me take you there."

Edward Alpine still hesitated. and apparently
would have refused, but yielded to the urgent tone
of the repeated request, and in a moment more was
whirlin up Broadway.

“If I .eSJtated to avail myself of your considerate
offer, Miss Seacrofl,” he said, after a minute’s si-
lence. feeling that the kindly eyes of ,the lad were
fixed inquirineg and anxiously upon him, “i is no)
becauseI am seriously hurt, as on may suppose,
thou h I fear I have unnecessari y shocked you."

“ 0; but you have, indeed, greatly changed, Mr.
Alpine. since I saw you on the steamer—the lite and
soul of gayety. Surely it is not bad news at home
that has so disturbed you?”

“Not wholl . But, forgive me, if I do not speak
of mvself. an is the creature of circumstances—-
the slave of events in the shaping of which he had
no share. Tell me, rather, of yourself ”—with forced
lightness of manner—“of your progress in those
higher studies that give oor mortals a foretaste of
that celestial music whic brings the angels down."

“ Do not assume a forced gayety, Mr. Alpine,” she
said, gravely, looking at him with a deeper insight
and a warmer interest than he knew. “Let me
suggest that you seek advice of a physician. Or "—
as he shook his head in strong distaste—“it you
wish to know my musical Progress, come and hear
me sing. My grandpa wil be pleased to see you
again on shore, and you will be glad. I am sure, to
lmech 31106 more the dearest, best old man that ever

V8 . i

There was a cordialit in this invitation that
gloved the young man, w '01: be promptly acknowl-

ged.

Reaching the hotel he went directly to his rooms.
closed and locked the door and lighted the gas.

Seen in the stronger light. he did not differ materi-
all from the average young‘ New Yorker, being
tall, muscular and dressed in t e prevailing fashion.
Evidentl a young man, but haggard and ghastly to
the last egree, as if some great grief had suddenly
fallen upon him with crushing weight. _

He threw aside his coat, loosed his wristbands
and collar and took from within his breast his re-
cent purchase and laid it upon the table.

It was a loaded pistoll

Seating himself he took from a drawer writing
materials and deliberately wrote two or three brief
notes, which, when done he carefully sealed and

sed. With a fldcht to details which was a

habit, he carefully replace pens and paper, and_set

‘back the chairs with the air of a man who is finish-

ing, as he supposes, the last work of his_ life. Some-

thing gilittering on the floor attracted his attention.
Hepic edltu. M

It was a {’3 earring. A trifling incident, yet

for a. moment t changed the current of his thoughts. ;‘
“ The Prime Donna’sl" he said. “ I remember ‘
well m then when on the

 

E that it should have attached itself tomy coa‘land
fallen here instead of in the strce ."

“ He opened the drawer and taking an envelope
inclosed it, writing on the outside t e lady’s name
and her address, and with its conclusion, the little
episode vanished from his mind.

He began pacing up and down they with his
thoughts.

" And she will hereafter think me— Whalshould I
prolong the a on i” he exclaimed. “ hy seek
oblivion abroa ? he die is cast." ‘

He had come to a. halt beside the table and his
hand was outstretched to gras the weapon, when
there came a sudden knock at t 9 door.

Thrusting the istol out of sight he stepped to the
door and opens it.

A woman, closely vailed, was standing on the
threshold, trembling with emotion, seemingly with-
out ower to advance or retreat.

" olal“ he cried, not even the thick vail and ar-
tial dis uise preventing the recognition. His ace
change with the utterance to a wonderful blight-
ness. He seemed transflgured.

She threw back her veil and rushed toward him
while his arms moved as if to clasp her.

But alasl why does he hesitate and fall back as
she advances into the room? . Why does the ash;
pallor of despair sweep from his face allthat brigh
ness?

He shrinks backward, avoiding her glance, while
his strong frame tremblcs with repressmn, and his
voice which had attuned itself to melodious music
in the mention of her_ name, changed to unnatural
harshness as he exclaimed:

“Leave rue—leave mel We can meet no more.
Begonel"

But this manifestation of weakness was to her an
element. of new strength. Advancing to the table.
and resting one shapely hand upon it, she faced the
cowering young man.

“From your lips, only]? she declare slowly,
“ will I accept the trut . I see. Edwar A1 ine.
that you have not forgotten me. Is my love so ight.
a thing that nothing would suit your purpose but a
re 'ectlon at the altar?" _ - . .

ith extended hands. as if seeking to at fi- in
him all consideration of her deliberate an force
questioning. his lips moved dumbly. He looked
ghastly, and the lines of sufiering about his mouth
were strongly marked.

It was a strange picture.

But it lasted only a moment. Moving her hand
unconsciously on the table it came in contact with
the envelope in which he had placed the earring, and
her glance fell upon the address.

It was her turn to avoid him now. .

“He loves another—another," her voice Sinking
almosthto a. whisper, and turning from him in abso-
lute Silence, with a gesture of. repudiation she
moved toward the door.

But she had overrated her strength. She faltede
v tattered, and would have fallen. like a storm-swe
l flower stricken from its stern, had not Alpine, W1 h
' a hasty stride, caught her inanimate form in his
strong arms. As if they were never more. to ,pal‘tw
he tenderl clas ed her, and showered kisses like
rain upon er pa e lips and brow, with broken ejac-
ulations of love and remorse. '

Laying her on the sofa, he
force that left the cord in his han .

But theiiie was nodwaiting for an answer. A young
man hast entere . ~ .

It wglhDguglass Owen, somewhat disordered by a

id ve.
m“: Good heavens, Ned l" he breathed, in a 10W V0109
of doe concern. “ What has he pened?"

“ Si ence. on your hfel” was t 6 1651301359-
“It is Iola—she, you know "—with han
cures working convulsively—“Hushl she has 101-
lowed me here. Thank God, you have come! Take
—-ta.ke charge of her at once, an hear her 1101110-

 

. Singular: Youdidyouremndwellslkaaw byherpnesenol

thebellwithav

.. _.__..___.‘l.___.._ w-

inwn.

 

 

.JNA

 

here. Return with her immediately before her ab—‘ '
sence is discovered. All is over between us, and
henceforth—but see, she movesl ' Once more—the
last “—-and unmindi‘ul of the lurid glance upon him
he kissed her with a despairing fervor that brought ,
her instantly back to consciousness. “ You will see i
me no more," he added; and he rushed from the i
a arttnent as 1018. rose to her feet. I

ouglass Owen lost no time in explanation or
apologies. With an earnest deference, inspired by
his deep passion, he said:

“ I am to take you home, Miss Marl. Your friends
will be alarmed, should they miss you. I see that
{non came down by the train, or you would hardly i

ve gotten here before me. We shall be somewhat 1
ion or driving back. Let us go at once.“

oving like one in a dream, she suffered herself to
be led down the stairs and into the street. The car- 1,
riage in which he had come from Washington
Heights was at the door. He assisted her in and
sprung in beside her. The boy in waitin handed ‘
him the reins, and, with a 'touch of the w ip, they
were ofl.

But the departure was not Without an observer.

A man waiting in the deep shadow of a pillar of
the ortico, where she had passed so close that he
cou d have touched her with his outstretched arm,
started forward a pace and gazed after them with
hands firmly clinched together, and features work-
ing convulsively.

t was Edward Alpine.

“Forever and foreveri” he breathed in farewell,
as his glance followed them. But, even while he
gazed he suddenly started with a new emotion.

“W does he drive in that direction?" he asked
himse . “His way homeward lies opposite," and
then, as if illuminated by a sudden revelation of
Owen‘s ssible treachery, he hurried down the
steps an followed the carriage, growing more and
more excited as he ran.

 

CHAPTER IV.
THE LAWYER. AT noun.

Tm: scene that followed Mr. Alpine’s repudiation
of his son, and the rejection of his message. would
have been a study for a painter.

The half-fainting bride in Mrs. Alpine’s arms—the
startled clergyman—the enraged father—the insom-
table lawyer—and the astomshed and sympathetic
Siests and friends made up a dramatic picture never

be forlgotten.

But it astcd only a moment. ,

The courtly gentleman who never forgot the honor
of his lgood name, nor the demands of society, in».
few b of words of a ology for his scant courtesy dis-
missed them all, an watched them one by one de~

rt.
paNot until he was alone did he hasten to his wife’s
side, then, by a sympathetic clasp of hands, he told
her more than words could utter.

Mr. Bookout returning from the hall,'whither he
had followed the messenger. with the rejected bride
upon his arm, would have referred to the re-
creant lover in terms perhaps harsh] befitting—or
possibl to excuse—but Mr. Alpine, y a gesture,
stop him at the first syllable.

“ e has chosen his own course," he said; “hence
forth let him be forgotten. Not even in condemna-
tion do I wish to hear his name."

Mr. Bookout bowed in acquiescence, and the group
broke up, the ladies disapflearing toward their re-
s tive apartments while r. Al ine took the arm
0 the lawyer and led the way to t 6 library.

“Referring to the matter of our conversation ust
previous to—this aflair," said Mr, Alpine, wit a
strong restraint upon his feelings, taking a seat and
motioning his legal adviser to another, I must put
off fora week or two, at least, placing the matter
before Mrs. Al ine as I had intended. Meanwhile,

on will take 0 arge of the letter, and any su ges-
ons that may occur to you youwili e a no e of.
You have seen thenronerw. I think you told me?“

 

- 4 mind what he had said to

    

THE WIFE’S SECRET. 3

"Yes," assented Mr. Bookout; “but some years
ago and'though neglected and going to waste. yet
the ocatlon and its proximity to New York would
give it prospective value of possibly some future im-
portance, a clear title could be had. though for
present use it would hardly be worth taking."

“ Has it never been repaired?” asked Mr. Al ine.

f‘Not recently,” responded the lawyer; ‘ ut it
might be, and in such case, with the progress of im-
provements, would make a young woman a small

1 dowry, as the world goes—quite enough to prevent

her havin r (what the writer seems to fear) the re—
sfran'it o dependence, even were t ere nothing
e se.’

Mr. Alpine nodded approvingly.

“ It is et :00 earl to decide,’ he declared after a
momentsthou ht. ‘oi' the acce tance of this pro-
position: buti there are no obs acles in the way, V
and it appears that the parties are eminently rc-
spcctable I know no reason wh it cannot be enter-
tuined. nough, however, of t e matter at present.
There are the apers."

He produc , and handed them to the lawyer as
he spoke.

Mr. Bookout rose, placed them in his pocket, and
buttoned his coat. '

“Won‘t you sta ‘2" asked Mr. Alpine, throwing off
the business air w n'cli he had worn for a more social
one. “ Your room, you know. is always ready.”

_“Thanks, Mr. Alpine," res ended the lawyer in a
Similar friendly spirit, “ but shall be expected down-
town in m bachelor uarters."

He shoo ' hands wi his friend and client, and had
already reached the door on his way out, when he
tuurnedmback as if under the influence of asudden

ou . '

“ on will be pleased to hear " he said, “thatI
shall soon be able as I think, to place my hand upon
that missing link in the Alpine tamil record for
which we made so long a search in Eng and.”

“ No?” uvstioned Mr. Alpine with a sudden start
of agreea 1e surprise which 5 owed the deep in-
terest he took in the matter. ‘ “ Is it possible after
all these years?”

“ uite ossiblc," said Mr. Bookout, undisturbed
by r. A pine’s warmth of manner, for he had
seized both the law cr’s hands in his own. “Indeed,
I am positive, or would not have mentioned it.
Broil-night.”

The moon was shining brightly as he came down
the steps and glanced up and down the roadway. .

There was nothing in it perhaps, to recall to his
ouglass Owen about the
road to town being safe and smooth; much less to
suggest the fact that Iola Marl, actin on the hint
;vas already seeking an interview Wit the recreant
over.

An hour later Mr. Bookout had reached the city
and let himself into a tall angular building that
fronted one of the principal squares.

Going u to his rooms on an upper floor through
the semi- arkness of the halls. he was in 0 act of
unlocking the outer door of the suit of rooms in his
occupancy, when a voice that would have startled a
man of less firm temperament addressed him by

name.

“What, are you here again?" he demanded. _“I
supposed you would have accomplished your destiny
before this."

“And what is that?" questioned the voice in the
darkness.

“To be hanged of course,” was the grim re—

onse. “ :Il‘hat is the only proper ending to a career

{e yours. ‘

By this time the lawyer had inserted the key,
thrown back the bolt, and opened the door.

The man lurking in the passage followed him in;
and Mr. Bookout, tnrnin up the gas, whlclfiigas

already burning low, whee ed and confronted
For the space of ten second
and looked at him, his glance go
sole, noting every egression and
d anowerful

’perhaps, he stood

from crown to
eature as strong-
ly and clearly as we

  

 

o ‘ THE WIFE’S SECRET.

 

"Not improved much, Iscc, Wilkes.“he remarked, l
with no evidence of conccrn'or sympathy in his,
voice, seating and busying himself at a desk which
Was covered with a ers. “ What do you want?"

u “ {Idwant you to co ' at me. I am more sober than l
su .
The lawyer ve slightly elevated his eyebrows and ‘

glanced in his vis tor’s direction. l,
“Are you, indeed?” he questioned, doubtingly. “ I
had not observed that." l

A man of fifty or thereahouts, but looking much 1
older; dark, swarthy, with tangled masses of black ‘
hair and beard' such a face as is sometimes seen i
lurking about the wharves and emigrant-ships; and ‘
as if in keeping with such occupation, he wore a garb l
half nautical, half landsman’s. Dissipation, late j
hours, and irregular habits seemed to have long ago
marked him as their own.

“ I have looked at you,” said Mr. Bookout, again
bus with  papers. “What do you want i”

oney.

CHAPTER V.
m VISITOR AND THE UNFINISHED CODICI'L.
Tun lawyer rose and opened the door before mak- 1
lug any reply.
‘ Have you any information to give in return?" he

asked.

“No,” said the man. hoarsely. “I told you all I I
had to tell long ago, and have sold, in my continued ‘
silence, honor and manhood.” i

"Stop," interrupted the lawyer: “on my word, I
Wilkes, you are etting facctious. Honor?”

ff You will not elicve it, I know. but I was a man
once,” declared the sinister-looking visitor, smiting
his breast with savage earnestness, while his eyes 1
dashed luridly in their sunken caverns.

The man moved a step nearer and the lawyer
looked at him fixedlya moment. his knowledge of
men was great, and the needs and vices of this one
up event at a glance. .

‘IMoney, eh?” he ejaculated, with his customary
on m.

Opening a drawer and still busy with his papers
with the other hand, he took some money from it
whiten be carefully counted and then tossed to his
v1s1 or.

“ There are five dollars—make the most of it.”

“I will," responded the man, his fiercer mood all
gone, “ and in return Iwill tell you somethinfii They
are changing thingsin The House on the rush—-
making repairs for newcomers.”

The awyer frowned.

“You have been there again?” he said, reprov-

l .
‘ {couldn't help it," was the sullen response; “ you
lfiave fax-hidden me ever putting myself in the way of
rs —

“Stop!” thundered the lawyer, rising with elec-
trical swiftness, and emerging from his desk at a
single stride he seemed about to grasp his visitor by
the thlroat, while his heavy brows contracted threat-
ening .

“Dalia to ever utter that name." he breathed, in
continuation, his tone scarcely above a whisper,
“ and I will strangle ou on the spotl”

The man shrunk ack. Evidently he had never
seen the lawyer in a mOOd like this before.

“Look you, Wilkes,” said Mr. Bookout, as sud-
denly returning to his natural voice and manner; “ it
is plain that you cannot be trusted. With the shadow
of the gallows hanging over you, as it has been
all these years, you are yet unable to under-
stand m leniencyf in keeping from ou the
houndso ustice. you are weary of ii e, so so
at once an let it end by the rope. Perhaps the b cod
of that old man whom on struck down in the very
act of adding a codicll his will and placing you by
his bountyand generous goodness above 9.] future

' for expiation. Why, I may as well

want
ask should] ion erin to revent it?’
The dark tor wttfi his. fauna convulsivelv

 

 

clutching at his heart, smitten down by those words,
gar: sunk to the 'floor and was groveliug at his
ee .

The lawyer stood above him as un it ' as if
his fl rure ad been cast in bronze. p ymgly

“I you think 'diflfercntlv," he continued, after a
moment’s pause, “ and still believe you can hold to
your_ ronuse so often reiterated to me, then go on
a win e longer in the fulfillment of the career, what-
ever it may be, which you have made your own.
But, remember, you are not to come to me for a.’ ‘,
except in the utmost need. In such case 1 have not,
and shall not, turn you away empty—handed. Go.”

Not once looking in the direction of his visitor,
Mr. .Bookout calmly returned to his desk and cos -
chair, and selecting a. pen with some care began 0
write; scratch, scratch scratch for some minutes,
and when he at last looked u from the sheet which
his had covered, and laid own the pen, he was
a one.

He arose and locked the outer door, and threw
open those of the interior apartments, lowered a.
wmdow for the admission of 2111‘, and taking off his
coat replaced it by an easy wrapper which he took
from an inner closet.

This done he he] ed himself to some refreshments
under a white nap 'in which had been brought in for
him walking slowly back and forth as he ate—not
confining himself to the outer, or business office, but
passing throu h the next apartment. which was a.

‘ parlor, into tie interior, Occupied as a. sleeping

room. These were his “bachelor quarters "—large,
lofty and rather soberly furnished, as befits a man
of Sixty—which, with meals regularly served from
ftp adJncent eating house—made up his domestic
l e.

“ Strange," he breathed, ntting aside the small
tra with its napkin from w ich he had been eating,
an coming out to the desk—“ Strange, that I cannot

et this wretched creature out of my mind to-nightl
as I too careless in any particular or too harsh?
Neither—keeping in view the situation—neither. As
surely as the lightning’s stroke follows the flash, so
surely would an impolitic word ruin all, andAlpine’s
ha piness fall—a house of cards."

Ige had resumed his easy-chair while speakin and
now unlocking a small door in the desk whic re—
vealed an inner drawer, produced a key and un-
locked that.

With no uncertainty in his search he removed the
papers which lay uppermost in the drawer and took
thence a small leat er portfolio, of rather ancient
origin. This was alsolocked, but a key of delicate
workmanship which be selected from a. number of
others easily opened it.

There were several papers evidently placed there

for the safest of safe kec ing, but he took out only

two, both worn and disco ored. -

Boih of them were in writing, and one almost il
legible. with ragged and torn edges. This be pro-
ceeded to copy, as follows:—

“anmn. Date, Novmber 1710.-—Sir James
Alpine, Knight, of Alpine Manor oGrace only child
of Edward Seacroft. .lnrmer, of Riverside. Alfred
Arkwright, pastor. Witness: Henry Dent seaman;
Luc Lane, spinster. A. true copy—attest: Milo Marl,
cap am. .

Mr. 1Ilfiookloutsparefully verified it by comparison
witht eor ‘n .

“The misgs‘ing link, undoubtedly," be affirmed;
“ but beyond the satisfaction of discovery. I fear it
will not add much to Mr. Alpme's genealogical tree.

' The ways of these ancient mariners were devious

enough, and mostly— ‘
“ ‘ founded on the good old plan,
That he may take who has the power,
And he shall keep who can 1'
“ But whether thelgood Sir James secured asmug-
led dowry with his bride or otherwise, we may
gbank Captain Milo Marl. probably a boon com-

 

 

._.-.i,,.,.. .

 

 

i
v:

l

 

 

THE WIFE’S SECRET. ‘l

 

panion, for what appears tube a co y oi.’ the original
cat from the ansh register, whic 1 our researches
discovered to ve been burned along with the vil-
la e church." .

Ie placed the copy in his pocket-book returned
the original to the portfolio, and took up the second

a er.

p ‘ The old man's codicil," he reflected.

It was of much more recent origin than the other
13' per, dating only some few years back. But, what
gave it a sinister interest, in connection with the
reminder the lawyer had given his recent visitor,
was a dee stain on one side where it llflii been
grasped w1en the writer was stricken down, by a.
mans thumb and forefinger, which was indelibly
outlined in a color that had now faded to a dingy
brown. It was as follows:

“CODICIL
TO THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT or ANDREW MARL.

“The stain of blood is not easily efi’aced. The
evil that men do survives them. Innocent children
inherit the conse uences of false lives. Only self-
help, and God‘s elp can remove the stain of a.
vicrous ancestry.

‘ I consider this, and believe the worthless char-
acter of my nephew, Ilugh Wilkes, a rascally out-
growth from the wretched career of our smuggling
ancestor. I therefore reinstate my said no how in
m directions, and bequeath to him the w ole re-
si ue of my estate. And by'thus placing him above
temwation, I hope to incite him to reform.

“ ith extremest charity for his faults, and love
toward all whom—”

“ There was a mystery about the old man’s burial
from the hos )ital that has never been clear to me,”
reflected the awycr as he eyed the document. Per-
haps there was a purpose in it—who knows? Too
late now to ascertam.’

And returning the pa er to its hiding-place he ex-
tinguished the light an went to bed.

 

CHAPTER VI.
7 , IOLA’S RETURN.

Tm; purpose that had suddenly actuated Douglass
Owen was a desperate one.

Iola's indiscretion in leaving home without the
knowledge of her friends for an interview with her
recreant lover had placed in Owen’s hands a power-
ful lever to use against her. '

In utter defiance of what might be the result, he
had already determined to take her~not to her own
home, as he had been ordered—but to a hotel; and
thus cut off from the reach of friends, lace her
still moreinhis power. Ilewould seize t e oppor-
tunity thus offered and declare the deep passion
with which be regarded her, hoping while under the
shame of her rejection by Edward Alpine to gain
her favorable assent.

As it was she sat in the corner of the carriage
cloaked and hooded, quite lost to her situation an
surroundings.

The glance of Douglass Owen, turned occasionally
in that direction, looked in vain for any indication
that she was observant of their )rogress.

Once or twice his lips )artc' to address her in a
passionate out uring of ore and consolation. But
as often woul a. thought of the warning of the
grim lawyer come uppermost to check him.

In adoptin his dastardly course he knew he must
dare the girl s inevitable anger which would follow
the revelation of his treachery, and throw himself
upon her kindness and generosxty for forgiveness in
the one great plea of his absorbing love.

The rashness. presumption, and utter folly of such
a scheme heappeared to wholly lose sight of in the
devouring passmn that urged him on.

To such as be. however, there appears no middle
course. Even while he thus debated with his own
dark schemes the oung girl roused herself and put

'asideberthick vai revealing a lovely countenance

in which grief, beauty. and resolve fltfully blended.

Maidenly purity, womanly dignity. love and tender-
ness seemed p ending for compassionate sympathy
in successive up als.

It almost carried him beyond his control, and had
time and opportunity been given him he would then
find there have declared the deep passion he felt for

er.

The words were actually rising to his lips in a
reckless outburst of love, entreat and devotion,
when the sound of horse’s feet ra i y galloping be-
hind them recalled him to himscl .

Even then it was only bya desperate effort that he
so far restrained his purpose for the moment as to
silence his hurried breathing, while he listened to
the ominous sound.

So absorbed was the Iyoung girl in her own emo
tions that nothing of a this was apparent to her,
and when at length she did speak it gave but an in-
dication of her anxious desire to reach home before
the discovery of her absence should be followed by

arm.

“ I shall not soon forget your kindness, Mr. Owen,
in taking me promptly home," she said; “ and my

oor thanks must make amends for those of my _

ear adopted father: for, as you Will readil per-
ceivc, the fact of my leaving the house had etter
remain for the present as it is—unknown to others.”
He nodded assent, but hardly breathed, for while
she was speaking the indications of pursuit grew
louder and louder. ‘

In the great city there was nothin special in the
sound ot a horse’s feet erhaps, ut the sinister
motives that filled Owen s breast made him a prey
to ready sus iicions, and he tried to peer into the
darkness, an , by the flickerin lights, as they hurried
past, get a view of the one be ind him.

He could only see that it Was a man on a powerful
horse. But in sudden alarm he drew rein and drove
down a side street at right angles to the one he was
in turning a corner sharply.

he man on horseback did the same. .
Owen touched his horse with the whip, reached

. the end of the block and whirled down another

street. and looking back he saw the man still follow-
ing behind him.

The warning of Mr. Bookout came to him with
srrl'len force.

He was watched. Thereiwas no longer any doubt
of it.

,-With this conviction full upon him his deeper pur-
pose relaxed and he drove straight homeward with
the young girl. _

The Alpine mansion was situated on a noble rise
of ground, laid off in successive terraces, and reached
by a series of massive steps more or less shaded
leading up from huge, ornamental ates, beyOm
which was the roadway and a broad awn sloping
down to the railway and river below—the maJestic
Hudson. ‘ \

The hour was not yet late, and to reach the house
and the quiet of her own room Without being dis-
covered was now the anxious desire of Iola.

At her urgent request Owen, whose thoughts and,
attention had been mainly devoted to his pursner,
stopped before reaching the great gates and as-
sisted her from the carriage. V

" Thank you for a friendly act Mr. ‘0wen_,” she
said. gently, as she laced her small hand in his.

“ Do not refer to l i,” he responded. “ You know
I amdNed’s filend,’ and they shook hands and

arte .

p There was a small side-entrance at the corner of
the great wall and- through this 101a passed.

As she saw the carriage move away she went up
the winding walk. which was very much b
the trees and shrubbery, until. With her heart has
ingsomewhat faster than usual. _she emerged within
the shadow of the massive buildm . The moon was
still shining bright] , but at this do of the house
the shadows lay eep and heavy as she
glided through the obscurity—no lights being -

e. ,

 

 

8,

THE W‘iF‘E’S SECRET.

  

 

A little further at the back there was a wing con-
taining a number of rooms devoted at some seasons
of the year to the occugancy of guests, but now
vacant; through these 10 had left the house, leav-
ing the door unfastened with a view to her return.
Toward this door which was seldom used, she
directed her steps, keeping close within the shadow.

Once a rustling of the trees caused her to come to
a sudden pause, shrink against the wall and listen
intently for a step. But, there was apparently no
one on that side 0 the house, and the sound she had
heard only the rising of the wind.

She breathed more freely and sped onward with
a step like a fairy.

In a moment she had reached the disused en-
trance, glided softly up the steps and let herself
in

Coming from the comparative light outside the
interior seemed intensely dark. But she had een
out and in through this part of the house before,
and its being unlighted and disused now ave her
no sensation of fear, although had her m d been
less reoccififilied the time and the place were emi-
nent y calc ted to have that eflect.

She had groped her way throu h ,the hall, had
reached the door, and was congratu ating herself on
her successful return. when it suddenly opened
and a blinding light from a bull’s-eye lantern in
the hands of a man wearing amask, was flashed
full in her face.

Shocked by the suddenness of the encounter she
reeled backward hei lessly.

Before her lips cou d move to utter a cry a thick
cloth was thrown over her head and she felt herself
rudely grasped while a pungent odor filled the air,
then she lost all consciousness.

 

CHAPTER VII.
Iuss saaoaonr.

Nun ALPINE—for it was, of course, he who had
followed the carriage, had seen from a distance 101%
enter his father’s grounds.

Witha sigh of relief, and some doubts arising as to
whether his s icion of Owen had not done him

ustice, he w eeled about and returned to the

ci .

gin night‘s ride. however. and the conflict of emo
tions aroused had had one good efiect. It had taken
his thoughts for a time from himself.

He no onger wished to die. -

Hetwmtilhd go abrcilad  audmfii another
coun ry e anguis an misery come to
him and others in this.

Disposing of his horse he reached his hotel just
in time to meet in the main hall a little grou re-
turnin from the opera, the central figure of w ich
was Seacroft, the singer—which instantly, so
to speak. absorbed him an he ascended the stairs
with them. ‘

He would have excused himself and gone to his,
rooms, but the lady would not rmit it.

“ You are loo ’ so grea improved, Mr. Al-

ine " she ass “ that I am quite sure our
1 saith  not suffer by being kept up half an our
anger. .

“ You see, sir " said the old man, shaking young
Alpine heartilyhy the ban ” on have no resource
except to come with us. y arlmg commands the
fleet, and whether we willor no we must obey. In
caseiofgunning away it becomes my duty to bring

on n.
y And, laughing at what he was pleased to consider
his own facetiousuess, he clung to Alpine's arm and
fibey followed Miss Seacroft and her attendants to
er rooms.

There was a piano in the apartment and the oung
lady, throwing aside her wra pin s, went to t e in-
strument and seated herscl . while the boyish old
gentleman talked with a friendly w irmth mil earri-
estness that made Alpine feel. in spite of his preoc-

 

gupied thoughts, and his fear oflntrusion, complete
a e

ase.

Seen in the full light of the brilliant chandelier, and
vivacious with the excitement of artistic trium h
and well-eamed plaudits—strengthened perhaps y
a growing interest in the young man—Grace Sea
croft presented a charming picture.

She sung.
But what she is unnecessary to record, and
although Edward pine sou ht to do so he could

not afterward remember. t may have been some
airy nothing of the French school, or more solid
music of German ori in, or soft Italian airs that
comprehended both. ut the whole was vocal and
instrumental harmony such as Alpine had never
previously heard.

It ceased, however, as allthings good or indifferent
must, and the young lady arose from the piano and
turned—smilineg triumphant, at the knowled e of
havirgg given an innocent pleasure—40mm her
gues .

The young man expressed his tification in com-

llmentary words that had the ouble merit of be«
mg brief and sincere and were doubtless all the
more a preciated, while the boyish grandfather ex-
claime , with as much enthusiasm as if it were the
first time he had ever seen or heard her, with much
cla‘pgin‘g of hands: '

‘htlo ous, my darling—you are glorious to-

After a brief interchange of thought on unim-
portant topics, the young man rose from his seat to
withdran his own a artments.

“ Tomorrow we sha 1 be out of town," said Miss
Seacroft, as she gave him her hand.
interested in an old place on the Jersey coast, known
by the unromantic name of The House on the Marsh.
It has been terribly out of repair and in a dilapi-
dated‘state for years, but we have ordered it made
inhabitable and propose go‘ down9there to—mor-
row to see what progress has een made. If on
take an interest in the ancient history of ew
York a trip with us might give you an insight into
some of its byways. One of the old Dutch Governors
is said to have once lived there, and more recently
it has been one of the irre ar haunts of thepirates
of Barnegat. So you see, ' concluded Miss Seacroft.
with a musical laugh, “ we are enabled to ofier you
first-class inducements to visit it. Will you come?"

" Only too happy to do so,” responded Al ine,

forced out of his 100mg; abstraction by her ter-
mined kindness an co interest.
“Thanks for the romise. I will send you word

at what hour we sh 1 start."
And in a more hopeful mood the young man said
good-night, and went to his rooms.

CHAPTER Yin.

as IMPORTANT mmvmw.

Tun enterprise and ene of the New York morn-
iilifg pa ers, which makes t em a map of each day’s
l' e an its vast concerns, is so well known, that their
promptness in publishing the_ following item_of in-
correct news in their early editions need excite no
co‘i‘nment. 

 

1/

SKEDBURGLARS Adam—At a. late'hour last
night, the daughter of one of our well known citi-
zens, Frazier Alpine, residing at Washington
Heights, was found insenm'ble in adisused Wing of
the mansion. The dw had been ransacked in
git, b bur lars, some 0 the valuables belonging
the ouse viiig been dropped at the door w are
the you lad was found, together with a mask
and some urg r‘s tools. It is supposed, the yew
lady was returning from the garden, where she
been for a walk, when she suddenly encountered the
rogues bearing ofl their plunder, and, to silence
her, a cloth ready steepedin chloroform was thrown
over her head. Though the best medical skill is in

attendance. the shook was of such severity that sl 9,

‘ still continues unconscious. and there is even you

I 1

“ Grandpa is '

   

 

 

 

 

‘--1r

rum..-» --_ _

  

TEE WIFE’S SECRET. ' l 9

 

possibility of a fatal result. The boldness of the :
outrage is more apparent when we. consuler that the ‘
other side of the house was occupied at the time, '

and it is only another evidence, to which we have so
often called attention, of the necessity of an addi-
tion of brains to our alrend large police force.”

This item was read b dward Alpine as he was
finishin
him wit terrible force of what he had been persist-
eutly tr ing to put from him—the events of yester-
day an the consequences of his own act.

“ Shockeduinsensible, still unconscious, and may
prove fatal."

He glared at the Roper as it lay where it had fall-
en from his tremb ‘ng fingers, as be repeated the
words. while a sensation o despair stole over him.“

“What should he now do?” he asked himself.
“ Should he visit his father‘s house? No! He knew
too well that father’s stern, uncom )romising sense
of justice, not to feel that he won (1 be afar more
unwelcome intruder now than even masked burg-
lars. No; he would not go there, but he would see
Mr. Bookout, that grim old lawyer, who had forever
been standin liken sentry in his way. He would
see him and o tain from him particulars of the mes-
sage that he had yesterday sent him. He would de
mand the proofs. It might be that, yet—“

He broke off suddenly in his reflections, and rising
made some hasty changes in his dress, and leaving
word he would be absent for an hour or more,
started forth on his errand.

Half an hour afterward he was knocking at the
door of Mr. Bookout’s suit of rooms, and in answer
to the response, “ Come in." he entered and found
himself in the presence of Mr. Bookout.

The lawyer was sitting at his desk in his custom-
ary easy-chair, but rose on the appearance of his

Visitor. .

“ Ah," he said, in a tone of some surprise. “ Ill is
you, Ned! I hardl‘y)’expected this honor to-day,"
and he waved him a seat near the door.

Young Alpine dropped into it.

He had never been a match, it dimly occurred to
him, for his father‘s legal man of business and he
did not waste words in a ologies or compliments,
but sought to concentrate ‘ powers on the business
in hand. ‘

“ You have seen the paper this morning?" ues-
h‘oned Mr. Bookout taking up one on a side-tab e as
he paused beside it and immediately laying it down
again. “You know what happened last night at
home to 1019.?”

Alglne bowed. -

“ d have come to me regarding it?“ continued
Mr. Bookout. “A sad affair followin so (1058 on
the heels of the—0t the other”——he a dad the last
words slowly. “You do not, of course, purpose go-
in there?”

' searching e es were fixed for an instant on
the fioun man’s ace.

“ o," e responded, gravely. “Not unless “mat-
tors can be placed in a diflerent light."

“An unnecessary proviso," interru ted the law
yer. “I do not see " ~he continu , with rather
more sternness in his manner, “th they can be
placed inadiflerent light. The situation is one or
your own creating." ,

The young man interrupted him im atientl :

“I admit all that, and more; but w at I sh are
proofs—proofs that the situation is as you have
stated it, in your communication yesterday. What
evidence have you that the woman is, as you de-
clare still living?"

“ a very best," said Mr, Bookout, with his cus-

‘ tomary calm, “the very best. Proofs? they are far

You seem to forget the situation. One,
I rape t. or your own creatin . Let me, without
prejudice, recall it to you. E ward Alpine, [can
see as you have grown older you have grown Wiser!
But nine years ago—"

f“ Let me say a once, Mr. Bookout.” interrupted
young Alpine, “ I was not a youthtul wombat."

too‘eas 1

his breakfast in his room. and reminded .

 

."Nlnc years o,"repeated the in er as if Al-
pine had not Spa '61}, “ you were in the mm: of fro-
qucniing haunts you would have done better to have
avouled—low concert‘rooins, (lance-halls and the
like—I see]: no excuse for this—— on need make
none," as the young man moved wi h restless impa-
tience. " On such an occasion you met a certain
young Frenchwoman, an attache oi the place—shall

name her?"

"No. it is unnecessary," said Alpine, as it defiant
of the worst, and s eaking rapidly; “Imet her thus,
and in three da 8' married her and in three weeks
thereafter she ed from me with another man; and
111 three months more she was dead, as I heard and
believed.”

Mr. Bookout nodded.

“ The whole story,“ continued the young man. “ is
a hideous dream, and seems to me hke the distem-
pered imagimngs of a fevered existence."

“ Knowmg this, Edward Alpine," resumed the old
lawyer, “ as I have done all these years—conscious
of your boyish weakness in it, as well as of your suf-
fering by it—can you qluestion my motives in at last
preventan your invo ving yourself still deeper?
When I ound that that woman was Mt dead, can
you wonder that I stood between you and the gentle
girl whom you were about to marry, and whose

cart you would have broken i"

“No, no " interru ted Al ine earnestly; “not to
save my life would willful cause her a pang.“

“ But the proofs, Mr. Bookout—the proofs!"

The lawyer sli htly elevated his heavy eyebrows.

“ You do not oubt my word,“ he said.

“No, no, but in a. matter like this is there not a
ossibilit ofa mistake? Are you sure of the evi-
ence? ha “

There was some impatience in the lawyer’s man-
ner as he interrup him.

“’Positivel" he declared. “I! you wish the con-
firmaféoi’i ot the truth by your eyesight you can

ave . .

“ How?" questioned the young man.

“ By seeing herl"

m vmn wow.

EDWARD Arms tell back in his chair.

For a moment he was speechless.

“It is true," said Mr. Bookout slowly watch
the eflect of his words as he spoke,—“ but we migh
invoke the law in your behalf."

“ I thought of that, and it might be considered
were it not for one thing," commented Alpine, utter

a minute’s ence.

“ And what is that?” finestioned the in en.

“The fear that she-t at Iola would no marry a
divorced man, for or course
told all the details of that wretched and unfortu-
mli'i. “if” odded vingl

e w or n a to y.

Those brains of yourspgre clearer. than they were,
Ned,” he said; " and there is still another difficulty:
the probability of the legal proceedings, that must
necessaflallfi' expose the whole business of our
youthful to y, becoming known to our father. ’

“I could brave that, anything. things—rather
than have 1019. despise the man she once loved.”

“That sentiment is not objectionable," admitted
the lawyer, “in one of your age; and IVshould ex-
Egcfft no less from your father s son—my friend of

acentury;" andas it to emphasize the words
he glove the young man his hand.

‘ cannot attempt to advise you, Ned, under the
geculiar and disagreeable circumstances " he con-

nued with some egree of frankness. “'It appears
to me however, that your project of again going
abroad is wise. Time will exert its healing influ-
ence, and— Huh! there’s a knock—and, now I re-
member it is passing your father; he spoke of see
me shortly. Un er the circumstances you had
better non see him.”
“ No.” said-Ned. who had already risen,

she would have to be '

   

"step into my parlor adjoining, then; you will
not be etained long."

As Al ine disappeared Mr. Bookout promptly
opened t e door, ut the fool: of expectation on his
features gave place to his customary oflioiai air as
.1119 liede his visitor enter, and resumed his seat at his

es .

It was a woman closely vailed who entered, and
with an air of brisk and ready assurance ap-
proached him. ‘

The lawyer looked at her with evident recogni-
tion but no apparent pleasure at seeing her.

“ did not expect you, madam," he said, coolly.

The woman pushed back her vail, partly exposing
her features,.which were of the brunette t pe. dark
and regular, and indicating a woman 0 possibly
thirty, though she would as easily have passed for
one older or youn er than that.

There was a rest essness about the full dark eyes
-—a nervousness in voice and manner—that seemed
peculiar to her and something about the corners of

 

the mouth in the down-drawn lines that would pre- i
vent get-sons of ordinary caution from making her a l marshes.

confi ant of important secrets.

She rested a rather well-rounded arm on the law-
yer’s desk and whipped the fingers of one hand with
the fingers of the empty glove which she carried in
the other.

Something in the movement suggestive of vene-
mence and ssion, the lawyer who was observant
of this ha thought, for he had noticed the same
thing-before. But he was not now thinking of it.
He was thinking of Ned, as he looked at her and was
wishing at that moment that the door was sufficient-
ly aisr for him to see her.

“ on are very bus , monsieur, the lawyer," said
this strange VLSlOOI‘, With a slightly French accent.

“Always busy, madame. You have come to me
tor some purpose?” 7am

“I have, monsieur. You know our little compact
—-agreement?" I

“I do. The time is not up yet,” he interrupted,
looking at her over the top of a law»book which he
had taken up.

“Monsieurissharg Not-it is not up yet' thatis
why I have come. ut this time I would like the
mono you promised in advance " she continued,

more rapidi ; “I Wish to go to New Or-

leans. have a position offered me as figuraute, and

if I make as much money as I expect it is not proba-

ble that I shall give monsieur, the lawyer, the oppor-

tunity of paying me any more mOney, which he so
. much likes.‘

She laughed, showing aset of exceedingly white
teeth. but the lawyer did not smile.

He laid down the book, drew before him pen and

r and made alittle memoranda which, holding
F: hand, he permuted her to read.

“ Is it correct?” he asked.

“It is correct, as monsieur, the lawyer, is always
correct.” -

He arose and went into the next room, shutting
the door behind him.

He found young Alpine walking to and fro in con-
siderable excitement of manner.

“ You heard that voice?” questioned the lawyer.

“ Distinctly— and recognized it."

“ Would you care to glance at her?"

“ N 0," he regilied With strong emphasis. “ It is
sufficient that t is she.” _

Yet, how strange a thing is Fate! Had Edward
Alpine adopted the suggestion of the old lawyer and
glanced at his waiting visitress, the result might

are then and there changed the current of his life.

Mr. Bookout opened a small safe, devoted to per-
sonal rather than business uses, and took from it»
some money, with which he returned to the outer

 

 

 

o 06.

The youn man waited two minutes, fir
~—heard'a oor open and close—and .
called him out.

315 late visitor had departed.

be five
Bdaoskout i

' lo ‘ THE WIFE’S SECRET.

If! did not expect," he said, “ that you would ob-
tain a confirmation of the evidence you desired so
soon, Ned. But, let it end here, for the resent, and
good riddance. She’s or! for New Or eans so she
says, and she hints that New York has seen the last
of her. If so," he added With some facetiousness of
manner “ New York will probably hear the burden
of her absence with becoming spirit. ButI must go
at once to Washington Heights,” he concluded.
“ Don't look so gloom , Ned. Trust to Time to hel
you. The world is wi e and much will be expected
of you yet.”

Summoning a clerk, from somewhere below, to
look after the office during his absence, the two
cgmie out of the building together and parted at the
s ops.

 

 

CHAPTER X.
TEE House on THE muss.

BELOW New York on the Jersey side is a long
narrow strip of land borderln the ocean which is
sometimes alluded toin genera phrase, as he Jersey

Not that the marsh in question comprises
all so termed, but the special one with which our pen
has to do had at its back what might be termed a
foothill risin perha s fifty feet or more above the
surrounding ow lan

On this small ridge of rising ound which had
once evidently been a mere sand- ill thrown up by
the sea there was a large old—fashioned roomy man-
sion, which with its various out-buildings, occupied
the crest, the grounds on each side sloping to the
marsh and river.

This place was reached in fair weather by a shell
road constructed for the purpose, but otherwise was
easily accessible from the river side by boats from
the sea. In foul weather and high tide the last
method was the onl one, for on such occasions the
whole marsh for ' es around was covered and the
roadway was washed in the surf.

tever lname been given this estate in
earlier days it had come to be known by all the im-
mediate neighborhood as The House on the Marsh.

That it had once been the resuleuce of one of the
old Knickerbocker Governors, as Miss Seacroft
asserted was undoubtedly true and the strange
stories that were rife in regard to its having also
been the haunt of the wroekers of Barnegat, might
have been true in the old days. now so remote.

At the present time there was new food for ossip
in the arrival of carpentersafiainters, and wor en
who had set to work upon e house and grounds
making needed re airs. _

This was the 01 place of which Miss Seacroft had
spoken, and that arrangements had been made to
 on the day following her meeting With Edward

ine.

80am the young man have rescinded‘his romise

, to accompany them he would gladly have one so,

and hur ed at once aboard shi to return abroad,
but as the steamer would not sa' until the tollowm
Saturday, he had no valid reason for excuse be on
his own wretcheduess, and so, _at thea ipomted our
he modemsappearance. and Joining ‘ Seacroit’s
party they set forth together.

This trip was made forever memorable to Edward
Alpine in various ways not only by Miss Seacroft's
amiable exertions to draw him out of the gloomy
despondency which was continually returning upon
ltiéni‘i bittsby the incongruous peculiarities of er at-

n an

Odd as was the character of Mr. Seacroft so im-
like that of most men of his age, havmg a vast
amount of physical energy and mental shrewdness,
allied to boyish characteristics, the oung man
found his interest into as strongly c euged in
Mrs. Cha crane and iersou 0 ms. '

Mrs. C aperone, it appeare , was the widow of a
man who had been one of the most exalted and re-
fined gentlemen of this‘or any other age, whose per-
sonal attributes and whose scholarly acquirements
no loss than his position in society made him alike

    

 

  

 

THE WIFE’S SECRET. ll

 

a marvel to those who knew him and to those who 
knew him not. . 7

At least this is the opinion that Mrs. C'liaperone
chose to entertain of her late lamented lord. and
sought to fasten upon others. .

With the exception of this peculiarity, however .
Mrs. Clia erone was a most excellent soul discree
and relia lo and altogether trustworthy in her posi-
tion, as Miss Scacrott had found. .

Her son, the fat rus, was in every res ect a
complete contrast to is mother as we have a ready

d. His face beamin like a full moon with good
nature and health, an with a dry sense of humor
that served as an admirable counterpoise for his
mother’s lugubriousness. -

The reached the old place about noon, but found
that the workmen who had been employed—“unlike
most workmen nowadays, it inust be admitted—
had seemed in a hurry to finish the task assigned
them, had limited themselves to the exact repairs
suggested by the strict letter of their orders, an
had gone. taking their tools with them; from which
it was inferred that they would not return. '

Though this had not been expected by Mr. Sea- ,
croft it created no surprise, and thanks to the use-
fulness of the boy, Cyrus, an entrance was easily
effected in the absence of keys through one of the ‘
wngOWS and bolts and bars removed, and the party
a mic

The ringing of distant bells, and the suggestion of
the hour of noon, induced the speedy unpacking of
the hamper brought, and under Miss Seacroft‘s su-
pervision, Cy and his mother, Mrs. Chaperone, soon
spread out in the ample plclvrch, whence the view
looked out to sea, a lunch w ‘ch, to appetites sharp- ,
ened‘ by the ride and the salt air, proved very at- ‘
tractive. . '» ,
. After its merits had been fully discussed, the

party ‘psi‘oceeded to an examination of the house and i g

groun

 

CHAPTER Xi.
THE PANEL murmurs. .

Tan large rooms in the main building had been
put in habitable shape—so declared the old gentle-
man as they looked at them—adding With a some- ‘
what doubtful quaver of voice in the midst of his
enthusiasm. as he looked at his grand-daughter, that
it would depend very much on her how soon they
could take actual possession.

“Are you then in such ahurry, grandpa?” she
questioned, looking back over her shoulder with a
b ht smile of inquiry from where she was standing
wit Algae.

“I? h, no, my darling; your time is always my
time, no matter when in ma be; but the old .liouse
is such a strange place we 5 all need along time to
get uainted with it. ' _ .

“An our stay to-day Will necessarily be short and
conse uently merely the prologue, grandpa,” she
repli , “and we need not decide anything further
than to ascertain what we are likely to require in
case we do come. The interior thus far does not
seem inviting."

“No. but quite the contrary," declared Mrs.
Chaperone, the funereal melancholy of whose face
had in nowise lightened. “ It is the most gloomy
and forbidding place_I ever saw in_ the whole course
or me life," she continued, “and if me dear 0. was

“its
“ oh. thank goodness he isn’t," interpolated
Miss Seacroft, in a stage-whisper, to Alpine.

“ I know he would never. never consent to me liv-
ing a single week in such a lace! And really, really,
dear Miss Seacrot't, he wo d, I know he would, insist
mthgt. dearly as I love you, I should give you warn.

’ and her countenance from which all he a
fltired to have fled. disappeared in a square ofpganli):

f‘ But not until we have explored further I he "
Bald £1188  restraining a strong ,iihpuisgeio
mg i

‘ nition leaped into his face:
“ Goo

The party then proceeded to further examination
of the rooms on the ground floor, of which there
were more than twenty in all, and found, in spite of
the recent repaiis of those in front, that they were
still rather unsatisfactorg.

They then ascended a road, 0 n stairwa , in an
excellent state of preservation, a the head 0 which

. there was a. broad and lofty apartment with two or
‘ fhéee stately chambers opening out to the right and
c

It was evident at a glance that this lofty room at
the head of the staircase was the state apartment of
the. old Dutch Colonial period, for the doors and '
wainscoting},l as well as the ceiling, were thickly
studded wit ancient carvin s of oak, and there were
a number of painted panels et into the woodwork.

f‘The old Governor‘s room for certain," declared
Miss Seacroft, clapping her hands with childish joy
at a new discovery. ‘ See what a magnificent View
it commands from this window of the ocean yonder
and here he could look to the south and west and
dream of future empires waiting the march of the
all-conquering white man.”

"Yes—yes, m enthusiastic darling," assented the
boyish grandl’a her, reappear-inn; from one of the
adjoining state-chambers and running toward her,
with surprising activity. “ Everything, is in fair
{reservationnmy dear,’ he continued, “considering

he ltapse of time, and neglect. Look at these panel
pain in s.

_And he proceeded to open theshutters of all the .
Windows so as to throw a stronger light u on them.
Broad bands of mellowing sunshine f into the
room, brightening all it touched.

Through its qu1ckening influence the shadows of
gloomy years fell away like magic; the musty room

ecame flecked with whiteness, and dusty portraits
lam attolnce with neiilv life.t i

y, cy are am v or re tsl—orat leastthey
oughtto be," declared Miss Beacroft in a tone half
assertion—half doubt. .

Stained, faded and injured as some of them were.
they still gave ample evidence of faithful artistic
work, whether her conjecture was true or other-
Wise.

.There was the traditional Dutch Governor of Colo-
nial times in his quaint and awe-inspiring robes of
office, and op osite to him a lovely ancient dame,
Whom he mig it have won to be his bride in some
happier .hour when the lover’s ardor gave place to
the magisterial dignity.

So Miss Seacroft thought. .

There was also a cavalier with gay attire and flow-
ing sleeves silver. buckles and long sword, wearing
a slouehed hat With drooping ostrich plume, who,
Mrs. Chaperone suggested, might have been “one
of those haunting Barnegat pirates ready to cut—"

" Out and runi"_ interrupted Mr. Bancroft, who,
eyed the lpicture with no ream favor. “More likely
a smugg er ca tam _of t 3 17th century,” he added
With a strange 'ght in his eye.

There was a sudden pause in the livel
comment and exclamation which followe

flow of
this—an

~im ulsive action of Edward Alpine that concentra-

tet all eyes u n him.

His lance wandered with more or less curios-
ity an interest from )aiiel to panel, and had turned
to the portraits on t e opposite side of the room,
giben his gaze suddenly centered on one in the mid- v

e. ‘
He hastily moved toward it and a glow of recog-

Heavensl” he breathlesst exciaim
“How came that portrait here?" ed.

CHAPTER m
m m onnsrun spasm.

TEE reeo ition bivnEdward Al ine of a face among
the Banal-p rtraits the old Du ch Governor’s room
in T 9 House on the Marsh, was an event that mightf
Well startle his companions.

honifthenaintings were executed in the seven-

 

,her a relative,” he replied, Spe

12 . THE WIFE’S SECRET.

 

 

|
teenth century, how could It be possible for him to
recognize an acquaintance? '

This was the very natural thought of the Puma:
Donna as she pressed forward to take a. closer View ,
of the picture. ‘

It was that or a. young and lovely irl in the first
dawn of budding womanhood, with air and regular
features, graceful as a. fawn, and with marvelous
eyes that in life must have been bewitching in their
luminous intelligence.

Years probably centuries, had elapsed since the 1
painter had done his work, and the touch of time 1
was over all; but even yet, it seemed to Edward Al-
pine as if the bright e. es and fairy figure, and]
lcharming grace of 1015. arl were on‘ce more before ‘

m.

For a minute, perhaps two, he stood like one en-
thralled and gazed upon the ieture, while the others
in the room grouped themse ves about him, and the
boyish old gentleman, in growing excitement, looked
from the painting to Alpine and back again with
suigirised inquiry, until at len th the young man
sai like one who breaks a s e that has bound him:

“ $trange, that there shonl be such a resemblanch
It seems impossible that it should be an accident,"
and, turning, he added in explanation: “I know a
lady for whom that portrait might have been
painted, with some slight change in the fancy cos-
tume, which the artist has given her."

“Is the lady a resident of the city?" asked Mr.
Segrgoft,’ with considerable eagerness of manner.

“Perhaps a relation of yours?” continued the old
gentleman.

“ Yes—in a certain sense, I sup ose I might deem
ing rather slowly.
“ She is the adopted daughter of my father."

There was a curious Sense of relief expressed in the
face of Miss Seacroft on hearing this reply, and her
features which had been slightly strainedwith curi-
osillyfii or perhaps interest, resumed their natural
mo ty.

“ It is really remarkable that it should bear such a
striking resemblance," said Miss Seacroft. “ The
lady you mention must certainly be very beautiful,
for in this ancientaportrait the artist has evidently
painted "the origin at her best. What a pity that it

as been so neglected! But, we will remedy all
that,” continued the Prima Donna, vivaciously; “ the
room shall be restored. I really begin to be charmed
with the place; this noble apartment, and the splen-
did views we et from these windows give it aspecml
claim to my aver.” ,

“ Oh, Miss Seacroft, how can you say so?" ex-
claimed Mrs. Chaperone. “I am sure that me dear
C. if he were living—”

“ Would be sure to select one of these stately cham-
bers for his own use," interrupted the Prima Donna,
with a. musical laugh that disturbed the long Silent
echoes; “ so if you please, Mrs. Chaperone, don’t let
us consider an of his possible objections. We may
come here, an we may not—it would be only for a.
brief period in any event—and you know, Mrs. Chap-
erone how often have urged you to look upon. the
bright side of things! But we are losing piIeCious

. time- and a, is alread at the top of the house—let
iii. mi. » y

In fact. the voice of the old gentleman was heard
at that minute calling to them to come up.

They obeyed, and by a shorter flight of stairs
reached a roomy observatory constructed partly of
glass. much of which had been broken and roughly-
re laced by boards.

in this look-out an unobstructed View could be
had of the whole country for miles around.

“ There is certainly nothing very cheering up
here,” was Miss Seacrort’s comment, " and this is one
of the points that should have come under the ob-
servation of the workmen. However, the needed
repairs canbe made later, under our own su ervi-

, not have willing]

 

sion. If we only knew the histo of the p ace it
would be so much more  fear. Mr.

 V -l. .

Alpine," she exclaimed, “you will deem your time
misspent in coming out to it.“

“.On the contrary,” he declared, “it is such an
entirely new experience to me already that I W!" ' ‘
. missed it. But, as you so,
history would len an additional charm. There!" v
be information somewhere obtainable regarding

“As for that matter,” said Mr. Seacroft who hen
ceased for a moment his restless lookin about him,
“there is plenty of information extant.

. “ Do you know its ancient history, grandpa?" ques-
tioned Miss Seacroft.

“Alirtlc of it—a little,” responded the old gentle-

man rather evasively. “The bare facts in acom-
punitiver new country like this are seldom hard to
obtain. Old title-deeds, traditions, and personal
{eniii’nsccnces are usually relied upon to make his-

0 . ’
“Of course grandpa; but, isn’t there a. romance
of history? or inSLance, isn’t there a star con-
nected With that young lady's portrait? The and-
some cavalier, or some of the others?”

The old gentleman’s countenance fell slightly and
he looked disturbed. '

“Very likely, my dear,” he said, with a. sigh,
“ there is a story and stories.“

“ I thought sol” cried the Prime Donna,1 triumph-
antly; “and if we knew them we woulc find the
old place holds more secrets than one. Can't you
tell us one of them?"

The old man had grown quite grave and his face
hadIlost iltfi boyislh ex ,rlessioni l ding h

" inig , my ear, esai , genty regar er
with aglunce of great tenderness. ‘I might—but
not now." .

‘f But why not?" persisted Miss Seacrott, with
childish whimsicalness, “ why not?"

‘ “Because the stor is not yet finished, my dar-
hn". It would be on y what you call the (prolo e
with the first and second acts perha s, an the st
yet to come," he said, with marke gravity, quite
unlike his usual manner. “Let us go down, ’ he
added, abrii )tly.

Theyiinis e looking through the lower rooms,a.nd
in a few minutes were all outside, and walking u
and down the rugged turf, observing where it slo
down to the ruinous old sea-wall on the inlet do
and where it terminated at the old shell road. beyond
which was the b .

At the further end of the ounds and nearest
the ocean where the sea-wall ad probably had its
terminus, and where the water was evidently the
deepest, was the ruinous foundation of what had
once been a boat~house, or it might have combined
both boat-house and a. summer-honse above it.
Most of the main wall on the ocean side was stand-
ing, but with here and there a fracture that showed

that at some period when high tides and fierce /

storms were abroad the waves dashed over it in con-
siderably fury. ‘
CHAPTER XIII.
THE am rum DRIFTED our. 'ro SEA.
“ CALM as the sea. looks now," said Mr. Seacroft,

in response to some remark of Alpine, “there have ,

been periods when the storm and tides to ether have
made terrible havoc 9.1025 this coast. cars have
elapsed since Ihave visit it, but I can recall events
that have been made ever memorable to me."

His glance rested on his granddaughter.

There was a s ' ht quaver in the old-gentleman's
voice, a sudden re pse from his boyish smile which
was instantly recalled, however, as the young
turned her loving eyes 11 on him. V
ti “Events connected w th this place?" she ques-

oned.

“ ch‘," replied the old gentleman.

“ Then there is no better time for us to hear them
than now. I am sure that broad porch looks in-
vitin . Let us seat ourselves in the cod old-fash-
ione manner handed down by the Am in Nights.”

Grouping themselves about the old sen

\

.r'

 

\



“4.2 .02 l.
v

.. It...“ .4...»-..»u..w«n. “hut.”
. ,- i v

 

 

-...vi

 

 

m” .. . ..c.-_-\.._..._ a  .

, house drift out beyond the point, goin

 

THE WIFE’S SECRET. 13

 

Wane apparent reluctance at last gave way to the
""_;lvt~lentreaty reflected in all their faces, he began

' -. ’- ows: r

741' shall not worry you with a long story as to how
hd why it happened that I should have been the
captain of a vessel and at a point somewhere off this
coast on a certain chtember night, more than twen-
ty years ago, yet suc was the fact. In those days
we had no signal flags flying in every port to indi-
cate at what time we should avoid going to sea, to
escape storm and wreck, as nowadays, and we had
left port that morning with every prospect appar-
ently fora smooth voyage. But there was a rapid
change in the afternoon, and at nightfall it had
already begun to blow a gale that threatened a tem-
pest. We did what every coastwise man does on
such Occasions. Housed all, made everything snug,
battened down the hatches, lashed the ortables,
and as the wind was at first setting on? s lore were
not greatly alarmed for the result. It began to
change, however, and showed a fltfulness and fickle-
ness that made it very uncertain whether we should
blow high and (by onshore or out to sea, but I stood
in as near as I ared and flung out an anchor. If
Mr. Chaperone will be kind enough to hand me my
glass from the basket yonder," interpolated the old
gentleman, “ perhaps I can give you a better idea of
our bearings.‘

The glass was handed him and speedily adjusted,
aild the old man swept the horizon seaward with his
g ance.

“There, my dear," he said, holding it for his grand-
daughter to look, who in turn gave place to Al lne.
“You see that point of land across the ang e of
the coast line?"

They assented.

“The inletfbroad as it looks over yonder, seems
much less narrow to-day than it did then, and no
doubt it is greatly changed as most sea-coasts are
constantly changing. But we were very nearly in
a line wit that point and I was looking shoreward
through my glass when I saw what appeared to be
the roof and part of the framework of a summer-
out to sea
wilh great velocity. This impressmn 0 what it was
was such an extraordinary one that I looked again
to see it I could be mistaken.” _

“A strangle vessel to put to sea in,” said Al me,
taking anot er glance across the water towar the
point the old man had indicated.

“ Yes. At first I hardly made it out, but as it rose
and tell driving nearer and nearer, anpelled by the
fierce wmds, I saw it was what I first conjectured.
At the rate it was drifting I had onéy to await its
approach and be prepare to fend c if there was
danger of collismn. It bore down close under our
bow, and 50mg forward with the glass I saw that it
was indee‘ a summer—house but on her beamvends
and that in the angle of the roof lay a bundle of
something that. I could not clearly make out. It
looked like a child."

An exclamation of surprise greated this announce-

-

ment.

“I had on board,” resumed the old gentleman
“ an old sailor who had been a. Whaler, and his skill
and experience in throwing the harpoon w s availa-
ble then. At 111 suggestion he‘stood rea ywith a
small grapnel w ich he threw-With. such successes
to catch one of the projecting timbers. The hue
might not have held, but we instantly reinforced it
wit another and another, when we were able to
warp the strange wreck along-Side. Z_But the
strafizfgest of all strange thin s was the prec10u_s bun-
dle ' ted out of the angle 0 the roof where it had
been caught and held fast bya brace of timbers
which impiglisioned it high and almost dry on the
u 08 e.’

6 old gentleman paused and glanced at his
him~ lnten

j ddaughter. She was watching
or eyes largeaand luminous. . .
“ It was a by," she said, softly, in antiCipatIon.

 

“Yes. mydear—yes. Mr. Aluine“—afflrmed the

old gentleman, his boyish face gleaming with leas-
uro. “ It was a bahv~a dear girl baby, and W on I
lifted it out of its uck imprisonment and un-
wrn Pod it, it awoke an began to or in a most
hea t ly way. Fortunately there were ady assen-
gers on board, and the first officer had his w 6 with

lim, so that the little one was romptly taken care
012. With the rescue of the chi d we cut loose from
the wrecked summer-house and that was the last of
it so far as we were concerned, for though the wind
blew tremendoust all night it abated in the morn-
ing, and by night we were leagues *away, bearing
the little stronger with us. “

Miss Seacrott rose impulsively as he concluded his
story, and flinging her arms around his neck gave
him a resounding kiss.

“ That is but the faintest shadow‘of the thanks I
feel for your story, grandpa ” she breathed;
“ though I think, as you intimated, it is hardly more
than the prologue of what you could tell."

“ But, oh, it was a terrible thing," exclaimed Mrs.
Cha erone, “ and if my dear 0. had been living—"

“ ut as he isn’t, my good Mrs. Chaperone,” said
the old gentleman, cheerfully “let us go and see ,
how Cy is getting on with his fishing.”

“ Very well, sir,” res ondcd Mrs. Chaperone, with
a sigh of resignation, coking at her watch. “It is
nearly time for the carria as to return for us, how -
ever, and we will have to getting ready for our
departure." -

‘ Time enough time enough," briskly responded
Mr. Seacroft, leading the way down the slope.

Midway the old gentleman suddenly paused.

“You see it?" he asked, pointingJ to the founda-
tion stones, and the old sea wall, w ere the boy was
perched. “I traced the wrecked summer-house to

his point. Yonder was where it was inundated, and
thence the girl baby drifted out to sea.”

CHAPTER XIV.
A CONFERENCE.
THE Al ine mansion at Washington Hei hts never
preseu a lovelier picture in its exter or adorn-
ments and surroundings than it did on that summer

 

dav. ,

With the warm sunshine lying full upon its grassy
terrace, and the shadows from many waving trees
and shrubbery going and coming on the winding
walks and flowery parten'es there was a beauty to
delight the eye, and enrapt t e senses like the calm
and uie’s of a perpetual Sabbath.

To Irs. Alpine, however, standing at one of the.
drawing-room Windows, and restlessly drumming
withh her fingers, this sense of quietude did not
reac . »

A lady of admirable self-possession and equlpoisc, ‘
as Mrs. Alpine undoubtedly was, the events 0 last
night‘s occurrence, and the startling mysteries they
concealed, had ‘ven a shock to her sensitive nerves.
Though hidden rom Mr. Alpine and the household.
there had been that in the recent occurrences to set
her heart and brain on fire to a greater extent than
the knew. _ .

Iiyer suspense and anx1ety was at length rewarded
by the appearance of the housekeeper. . -

“ How is she, Mrs. Wigsmlth?” she questloned,
anxiously going toward her.

“ There is no change since morning, when the in- '

fluence of the drug was first thrown 01!. She still
talks in the same unconscious way.”
, “ Has the doctor gone?" I
“ Not at, he is talking with Mr. Alpine in the (1111'
i

i -roo .'
nfi'l‘henl will go up to her-she must not be left
alone for a moment. Say to Mr. Alpine, as you go
out, that I am with her.’ .
And with the words she ascended the broad flight
of stairs and entered a chamber on the second floor,
from wh ch the light was mostly egcluded.
Mrs. Alpine paused a moment m the open door-
way, and glanced searchineg into the chamber. ‘
Io‘it lay upon the bed. her fair lace flushed. Lair

  

  

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

  

 

disheveled, and a feverish light in her eyes. She
was wholly oblivious of Mrs. Alpinv’s presence, and
her utterances were those of (h lirlllm.

“My poor darling,” cried lllis. Alpine, liding to
her Side and claspin" her in her arms. “ ho is it
you wish?”-—for Iola in her wandering words kept

repeati aname.
‘Anot er~anotber." she repeated; “Bancroft-—
Grace. roft. Cruel. cruel."

Mrs. Alpine seized her hand and with her own fair
face against that of the girl tried to soothe her with
loving words and caresses. And not in vain.

The wandering words adually became less and
less fre uent. the stifl sobs less convulsive, and
she at cred herself into Mrs. Alpine’s arms with
her ead upon her matronly bosom, like aweary
child, until at last she fell asleep.

For some time they continued thus, until the en-
trance of the housekeeper. who carefully read-

.iiusted the pillows and aided in placing her gently

)ack upon them, while whispering that Mr. Alpine
was waiting below.

With a final glance at Iola, which had in it all of a .

mother‘s affection and tenderness,

Mrs. Alpine
glided down the stairs and

oined her husband who

was pacing up and down in t e embrasure of a large ‘

bay window.
With his customary chivaquus courtesy he came
forward, and taking both her hands in his led her to

a seat.

“ She is bettcr, I think,” said Mr. Alpine; “ at least
thendoctor said there would be improvement—is it
so? ‘

‘,"1‘o the extent of her sleeping " replied Mrs. A]-
ine. “Likeatired child she fell asleep with her
lead upon my bosom."

“ Dear heart,” commented Mr. Alpine sympathet-
icaJJy: “ we may then hope that her mind will be
0843111361; vglisn she wakes.” ‘ te "

‘ u ere isam ste astrangem ry, as-
serted Mrs. Alpine. y ry’ ys

“ How she could have encountered those wretches
in those unoccupied rooms r” questioned Mr. Alpine.
“ it seems plain. The police made a further and
more careful examination, but have been unable to
discover ng more than was previously 11%
ported. 1011:. must have gone into the arden, poor
girl, in her anguish and excitement and ft the door
open, whence the burglars entered. ”

“ It was not that entirely that I referred to. I ob-
served, just now, that Iola kept repeating incohe-
rently the name of Seacrott—Gmce Scucroft—n
11am; entirely unknown to me, and probably to
you

“ Yes " assented Mr. Alpine reflectively. “ I re-
call no lady of that name; but—it seems a singular
coincidence—I received a letter yesterday signed
Smcroft, Edward Seacroft containing a proposition
concerning his granddaughter, which Ih intended
to have own you last night. It was that letter’
that I was discussin with Bookout in the library.”

’ "Did Iola know 0 this?” questioned Mm. Alpine.

“ No—not a word had been uttered to any one save,
Bookout, and he had not referred to it."

“fiave you the letter?”

. “ No; I re t to have to say that I have not; but
I'sh all see b in today. I thought probably he would
be here by this time.”

‘.‘ A proposal you say—of what nature?"

'jlso regret not having it to show you,” replied
Mr. Alpine with an air of some annoyance; “ but in
substance it set forth that the writer. now seemingly
in good health for an old man of seventy, has a

chronic disease of the heart and feeling himself lln- .

bic to die suddenly at any moment, desired to place
his granddaughter—whose e by the way he did
not state—under the guar nship of some well-
known gentleman like myself. He represented that
she IS heir to certain property by which she would
be’wholly independent. My reputatio he was

leasedtosay was such that be u out desired
ll: ' ' An umguarlilan and

atlsh'ould accept this positio

l " And you have accepted i“ she asked.

1 “011,110; not yet. Iwishcrl first to consult you.
though I have given the papers to Bookout with in-
structions'to make inquiry as to the respectability
and standing of the parties. The property so far as
he has mentioned does not seem sHecially valuable
or_desirable, being mainly an old (I apldated estate
lyu'iEl just below the city on the Jersey coast, known
as 9 House on the Marsh."

“ The House on the Marsh J”

The lady started suddenly as she thus echoed her
husband’s words and dropped a handkerchief she
held in her hand, which Mr. Alpine. with his accns~
'tomed gallantr , sprung up to restore.

She passed t e delicate fabric of lace and cam.
bric over her face for a minute or two before she
again spoke.

“ A strange request—o very strange request—from
a stranger to a gentleman of your position,” she
finally remarked, speaking very slow y.
hke you to take ample time for thought before de-
ciding, thougu my first impulse would be with my
I desire to save you from care ”—and her w 1343 hand
l stole gently into his as she spoke—“I should have
certainly said no—no. But perhaps you are wiser
to take time before saying it. ’

Mr. Alpine looked shgflhtly surprised at her appar-
ent objection, but grat ed at or consideration for
his cares and responsibilities.

“ You would, then, advise me against the accept-
ance of such a trust?"

“‘I should hardly think it necessary to place it in
that light," said Mrs. Alpine. “The fact you men-
tion of an old, dilapidated estate, while of course in
nowise objectionable in itself, perhaps, would seem
to indicate neglect and instability of character on
the art of the owners."

“ rue, my dear, true. Still I specially cautioned
Bookout, and he would well understand without,
that our inquiries must be rigid."

“ That being the case, and very doubtful of meet-
ing with grompt and satisfactory re uses, little
more nee be said about the ropo tion. Yet it
seems singular that Iola should ave re sated the
same name as if with dread. - But I mus goto her

sin,” she added, as the clock rung out the hour.
a"rinsing as she spoke, and glancing out of the win-
dow an undefined change passed over her face.

“ Yonder is Mr. Bookout coming up the walk," she
said; “ your surmise was correct. ’ ‘

Mr. Alpine‘s countenance brightened up, and he
rose at once and waved his hand in temporary
adieu, as they left the drawing-room by opposue

oors.

 

CHAPTER XV.
m‘mssnzo mm:

Mn. Amhurried down the he. and surprised
his visitor by giving him admittance . self.
1 Tlfcllfwyer‘s first words after shaking hands were
or o . r
“Aslee ” res onded Mr. AI ine, “with prospects
of the ’ proxllement sleep3 _rings. But it has
beena. wretched business. ohce and doctors go-‘
in and coming, and. the whole house up
so . Things, I hope, Will soon settle down to &
calmer condition; but for this affair I should have
been do wn-town this morning. But you do not look
as well as usual.” _
“I?” questioned Mr. Bookout, With a little start of
surprise, for coming as he did from that momentous

o

(lune-ease, his first thought was of them. His coun—

with” it???" its “PM?” with 6 papers

in . a s ve as u 00

ringing from one endy of the ’city ’to the other with

this outrage at your house, to say nothing of the

toniible disoppointment to usall of that matter of
es erda .’

y Mr. Alzgrine’s face clouded and grew dark.
“We s survive it,”he declared

hall memo!
mutter-nets.

 

 

“It is so ,

interview with Ned Alpine and the sinister French:
“No” be ad- .

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

r
l
l
r,
I,
l
l
r
i
i
1

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

  

ll

 

While slpcaking Mr. Alpine conducted the lawyer
into the ‘hrary, and he now pushed an easy-chair
toward him and took another himself.

Mr. Booltont drew his chair up to the broad table
in thekcenter of the room and took out a large pock-
ethoo .

“I knew on would not forget my mention of the
discovery had made," he said, taking out of;qu
“ and I have brought a copy or the missxng '1 '. 1i!
we may so term it, with me. As it is co led in my
cramped and angular hand I may as Wei read it; ‘

and without waiting for assent he proceeded to do )1

so:

“ ‘Marrled, Nov. 4, 1710, Sir James Alpine, of Al-
pine liianor, to Grace, only child of Edward Sea-
croft Mariner, of Riverside;’ signed by the pastor
and duly witnessed.” ,

i

“ That is a prize," commended Mr. Alpine. “ The ‘
Sir James mentioned is he of whom we heard so ,
much while making our search on the English coast, ‘
and sometimes, I am afraid. not always to his credit.
Married the child of Edward Seacroft. Good
l:eavensl"he added. with a sudden start. “Do you
observe, Bookout. that is the same name as that of
the man who sends the pro osnl?—scel"_ .

“ Yes- I observe it now t at my attention 1s drawn
to it. erely a. coincidence of course my dear Mr.
Alpine; notice the date, 17l0. More one hun-
dred and sixty years ago."

\b “But this Seacmft who writes me might possibly

e s. descendant—the name is not common here-
abouts. We must investigate it. How remarkable
it would be if this stranger should turn outsto
 even a remote relattive. 'm an gregtly interested.

a must com are no es w: e or y. _

“You havepnot, I suppose, ad sed with Mrs. Alv 
pine in the matter?” questioned thelawyer. ,

A slight annoyance was perceptible on the tea-
tui‘es of Mr. Al ine.

“Why—yes, have' very briefly, however. The
fact. was "—drawing his chair a lit! e nearer to that
of the lawyer—“ that 1018. in a flight way kept re-
peating the name Seacmft—Seacrof as if in some
measure attributing her troubles to it. A mere
phantasy, of course, but  Alpme mentioning the
matter as something strangely mysteriousJ was re-
minded of the letter and the proposal.‘ ‘

"Did she think favorably of it?" asked Mr. Book- :

out. ‘_
“To tell the truth, no. She seemed to think it ‘
would beassuming care and responsmihty on my ‘
art on behalf of persons of whom I knew nothzn .
gut this cop of the missing registry leaf, for win -
we searche so long abroad, throws an entirely
new light on the matter, asbelng at least a remark-
able coincidence worth searching out, and one al-
most certain to enlist her interest; for between our~
selves, although she has neVer shown any deep
desire in the matter further than that m researches
should be successful, she yet understsn 8 how grati-
fying it would be to me to complete the successive

. hnks in the family history."

And, rising as he s oke, he went to an ornamental
sate, whichwas b ' t in with the shelving on one ‘
side of the library, and, unlocking it, brought out two
elaborately bound volumes in manuscript.

“For more than thirty years I have made the

athering of these facts 9. special object, as you
gnaw, and naturally I look upon this acquisition us
in some degree the ire stone of the arch which We
have been qlldmg, e must see this Seacroft," he
continual, With animation, “ and perhaps—”

50 inn rested was Mr. Al ine in the theme under
discussit n that he had not eard thelfootstep of his
Wife, who had softly entered and new laid her.th
:hpolla his am, giving a. formal bow of recognition to

e aw ea

“You3 are just in time, my clear," he declared,

ushin forward a chair. _ ‘ Our friend, Mr. Bookou
Basalt ength succeeded in securing that inlL‘Cllflll

link in cine family record, or which you have heard
so mu .

, Mrs. Alpine smiled at the reference in a menu
that suggested to the lawyer that she had possib y
heard uite too much regarding her husbands
special obby.

“ But it is not alone the fact of the discovery," he
continued; “the myste of that name uttered by
Iola is dec ened. Loo at the registry leaf, or
rather Mr. ookout‘s co ."

The lady glanced at e paper spread out before

er.
“ I remember the name of Sir James Alpine very

' well from hearing your discussion of it, but the

name Seacrott is strange—and Grace too—that was
the name that Iols. uttered," she added, examining
the pa r more closol .

She ooked intently at the lawyer.

“Where is the ori al of this paper?" she asked.

“ Secure in my an e at the office. ’ 0

“ Bookout deems it too precious to risk.” suggest-
ed Mr. Alpine.

“How could 1019, have heard that name?" she
questioned. addressing herself directly to the law-

er.
y “Impossible to say," he responded, briefly; “ but
as I have before remarked—‘8 coincidence."

“ To me," said the lady decisive] . “there issome— '
w?

thing ominous in it—ominousl” th a slow gesture
that impressed Mr. Alpine.

“Do not roceed further in this matter,” she con:
tinned ad resslng her husband' “ I fear—I fear
that you will fin imposture and villainy lurking
beneath it.”

“And yet the manner inwhich digs-pap? came
into my possession is simple enou h,“ d ookout.
“ It_m1 t have been reduced ong ago but for
havmg een overlooke . It was among old papers
belonging to an estate. and I think there can be no
question of its genuineness.”

“So far as you are concerned, of course no ."
But Mr. Alpine. has made no secret of his desire to
secure this. evxdence, or of his willingness to
largely for it. Whether acce table or not he of
course judge. But it is the ot er matter I esgfcinlly
refer to. As Ihave already suggested to im, in
the burden of responsibility sought to he thrust
upon lum his accep ance would be most unwise."

“ But, my dear, there would be no harm inturther
infinity—4n seeing the Bart i"

Merely a trouble i at ad better be avoided. I
should suggest that Mr. Bookout respond declining
's.

with than

‘ . “ Had I entertained the possibility of an objection,"

said Mr. Alpine, “I could casil have taken the

courseyou wish, but Iam afrai itis a little too -

e.
“ Yes,” said Mr. Bookout. “ I have arran ed to
meet the writer at in office to-morrow; an from
there if time permitt , or at some future period "—
he added slowly—“ I thought we would visit the old

pro ert in question now called —"
fl rs. pine rose suddenly with her hand raised for

s encc.

“ Hark! was not that a sound from Iols‘s cham-
ber? Pardon. my abrupt withdrawal from yourcon-
ference~as unceremonious as my entrance," and
with a wafture of the white hand she hurried away.

She closed the doorbehind her, crossed the draw-
ing room and sscendzn the stairwa paused a mo-
ment to glance into Iain S chamber w ere the young
girl was quietly sleepin while the housekeeper
watched by her side, and en passed on—going into
her own apartments.

Once in her own room with the drier locked, the
rigid self-possession she had maintained gave way.

“ At last, at last 1" she murmured—“after all

; these years "—wring'lng her hands and walking up
and down in extreme agitation' “ is the blow to
fall? Oh, it I could have told the truthéthe terrible
truth—at that time. what hours of agony would have

\

    

r

16

been spared me.

knell of love and—and of hope. The H0118? on [he
Marsh! Can it be, as Bookout asserts a coincidence?
No, no. Is it not rather evidence of his craft? Yet \
what does he know? Oh how, through all these ‘
years, that dark period comes back to me! It was i
the year of his European absence when that fright- [
fnl storm arose; the incoming tide had undermined .
the foundation of the old summer-house in which 5
the children were wont to play. For two hours
they had been left locked in by their attendant-—
whose duty it was to be with them, while she went
-what matters it now where? A chubby boy of
four, a irl of two.

“ A p attorm leading to the building overturned at
the moment of my approach and the summer-house
itself an to settle and sink into the rising waters.
At imminent risk I dashed across the moving tin»
hers—in at the open window, caught up one child
and out again returning for the other at still greater
peril. Too la 1 The building with a sudden crash
overturned and was swept away. What could I do?
I dared not face the consequence of neglect. The
mother already a hopeless invalid—the father soon
expected to hear us away to the mountains. Grief
an tears do not bring back the dead. Who should
condemn my action? One mother’s heart atleast
was saved a pan 1 And mine? Ah, why these
tears? Well, we 1 Shall not all I have suffered
plead for me or am I now to lose all worth livin

or? Why should an impression so strong of ev
come to me? What have I to fear from their visit to
the old House on the Marsh? Nothing, nothing!—
Or why seek to prevent its coming into their posses-
sion i—for as I have sometimes dreamed "

She paused and did not finish the thought aloud.

CHAPTER XVI.
ownn's so names.

Ason'r the same hour that Mrs. Alpine, in the
privacy of her elegant apartments, was defining a

alt-expressed fear of the pur osed visit to the old
House on the Marsh —soniet 'ng was transpiring
down-town which requires our attention.

In a small office on an upper floor, in alocali
convenient to the money center of Bread and Wu
streets, Douglass Owen was walking 11 and downin
amanner that betokened that his so eming mind
was far from bein at ease.

A woman thic y veiled, who had been havin a
business interview with him, as appeared from '
subsequent remarks, had just taken her do arture
and his natural irritation had not been great y bene-
fited thereby.

“ It is useless to expect thathook to hold very long,
and I have done the wisest thing in urging her do—

arture out of Bookout’s way. Keen as he is, and

001 as she may be, there is no trusting that cord to
bind for any length of time; I must have some
stron erhol than that. The plan I have thomt
out do it eflectuall , and the risks are as not g
comparedto whatI s all gain. At present every-
thing hangs on the breath of this woman,and the h
bound to my interest by her necessities she WO (1
be asreadilg bound to somebody else by a er
offer. If ookout really had an inkling of t e
truth, my cheerful pros ects would be at an end,
for though inclined to ho d a taut rein “he is still,dis-
advance my interest with 101 and that is
a part that must not be hazardcd. et mone I
must have. Broker & Co. tell me that the last do
of margin on Lake Shore and Union is wiped out
and that my venture in petroleum stocks has left
me considerab ,in their debt. which must be made

But, no: it would have been the i

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

 

good at once. y little blind of business here—”

He used a moment to glance bitter around
the. room at the meager furnishing, an at the
transom over the door, where could be seen through
the glass in inverted letters. in addition to his name,
the rather fictional legend:

. “Deanna m BONDS AND STOCKS."
“This.” he resumed. "has not served in the last

six months to paztfor my lodgi , and the little

firoflt it has broug me has diminis ed to nothin' g.
o—money I must have, and an opportunity is now
given me to get it, and at the same time crush my
rival. It must be done at once as Ned will, no doubt
leave by the next steamer. I know where 01

Frazier Al ine keeps his principal bank account,
and Ned c ecks at the Continental. The thing is
very simple. A draft from Frazier Alpine in Ned’s
favor, for, as $5,000, must be duly certified and
deposited at ed‘s bank to draw against. Luckily I
remember that mprecisely this amount was so de-
posited when N went abroad last—the old gentle-
man insisting upon making him a birthda present.”

While utteriu these last words Owen ad seated
himself at a do and be an to overhaul the papers.

From a drawer, he too several blank checks, and
selecting a on With great care, began to fill one of
them up. on he came to the signature he paused,
and to. a letter from his pocket—which was
merely a ormal note of business thankin him for
some information about stocks—he sp it out be-
fore him, made a careful examination of the signa-
ture with a magnifying glass which he took from the
desk, and after two or t ree attempts on blank slips
of paper, copied it on the filled-out check.

‘ A neat stroke of business,“ he declared, com-
paring the two with the magnifier. “ Equal to the
ori inal and better.”

aking another blank check on Ned’s bank, and
selecting a different ink, he rapid];r filled it out for
$4,000, writing the signature — ‘ Edw. Alpine ”
with a complex flourish.

He gave himself no time for hesitation, but rising
with promptness went to a wardrqu standin in
one corner of the room from which he took a

ortsman’s coat and hat, which he quickly ex-
0 anged for those he had on.

“Strange, that so slight a thing should make so

t a cha e,” he commented, surve in himself

the glass. “Ned little fancied when e eft ‘ these

old tra 3 here, before he went abroad, that I should
some ay make good use of them." '

Putting the checks in a large bank envelo With
other papers, he unfastened the door endlet mself
out locking it behind him.

9 was gone not more than twenty minutes, when ‘

he came hurrie up-stairs. two steps at a time and
somewhat out o breath, and gave himself adm1t-

tance.

Not till he had looked the door did he pause or
look behind him and then the lurking fear that is
the sleuth-hound of all criminal acts. made itself
apparent in his search‘ glance about the room. _

‘ Done,” he mutter , “and well done,” With
nervous trepidation in his voice, as he proceeded to
dispossess himself of the sportsman’s garb andro-
place it with his own. - - .

“It was even easier than I thought. Discover is
impossible until the last of the month at least, iv en
the books are written up at which time Ned Will be
on the opposite side of. the water, and whatever
course the old man takes he will be sure to justify
himself by letting Ned’s crime be'known to his
famil :inany event it will foreverkill his chances
with ola‘, and after all, that is the mam thing With
me. Lie there. hostage to fortune!”

And as he s oke he threw the money he had ob-
tained on the esk.

He smote his hands with emphatic gesture and
strode up and down with a. fierce glow of passxon
coming and going on his dark face.

"1 will not sa _ . “

vever' he continued in a milder tone, is
ws’tlhg‘last reso’ rt. High-toned as the old man is
in his unimpeachable integrity, he is not likely to
stand in his ado ted daughter's we. in opposing her
marriage. after er being rejected y his son, and he
dishonored beyond all possbee redem tion. The
prospect will Cirtaifillly 1;: A1 fin; 316- 0. I mu“

the fox rat or an e we . _

plfi placed a portion of the money in his pocket.

 

what I will—but she shall be, minei'

  

 

“a,

i

  
  
 

    

  
 
  

 

and the rest in. a small iron safe mutterin
did so: “This is the first time there has
dollar in it for a month.”

He then .roceeded to improve his a pcarance by
some addi ions from the wardrobe—us half-mut—
tered reflections indicating some definite purpose in .
his mind. ‘

“I can sto at Bookout‘s as I go up and inquire as
to Iola’s con ition and make an impression on the
old lawyer at the same time.” He was on the point
of going out when he was startled by a sudden
knock at the door.

So seldom was business in the habit of coming his
way that it was an innovation to the routine of the
dog’s dullness.

6 moved toward the door to open it when a in-
tent thought of his recent transaction, and the pos-
sible consequences it involved, caused a sudden
paper to sweep across his dark visage. With a
nomeless backward ste he swiftly pulled out a
drawer seizmg aplstol w ‘ch lay within, and thrust

8611 a

it in his breas
CHAPTER XVII.
THE Visrroa.
Tunas was a second knock at the door.
Ho 0 ned it.

Whe er he breathed more freely on seeing and
recognizing his visitor is hard to determine.

For it was Edward Alpine.

“ Ah! Ned Alpine," he exclaimed. "This is a sur-
evfise. Come in. _I intended calling on you to-day.

hen Will on 50.11?"

“ Not un il Saturday,” responded Alpine cordially
enterin and shaking hands.

“G to see you, but never thought you would
find your way up here. How long will you remain
abroad?”

“ An indefinite period: I shall not probably return
for years. The little fortune that was left me was
mos ly invested in London, and you may be glad to
know that it has grown on my hands—thanks to
wiser heads than mine that made the investment.
Thodusg’h not large it will sufl‘lechfor my personal
use . -

Owen expressed his satisfaction, for anything that
insured his rival’s continued absence abroad wonld
conduce to the success of his plans and purposes
here; and yet it excited his wrath and ire that this
lordl idler should be so much better placed in the
worl , as he deemed it. than himself.

“ You were born under a lucky star " he declared
in 96 tone that disguised his real feelings from his
v15: or.

“ hat is the stereotyped phrase of the da ,” as-
serted Alpine, gravely— but in my case it as no
foundation in fact. I have, as you know, lost all
worth livin for.” -

He sigh wearily as he spoke, and rising from his
chair took a turn or two u and down the room,
quite unmindful of the evil g aces followin him.

“So,” he exclaimed pausin and lookinga outhim
—“this is where you still old forth.
perhaps lwould find you moved, but concluded to
risk a run up. I have been down on the Jersey
coast to-da to an old place called The House on the
Marsh, wit a party whose 1nv1tation I could not
well refuse, and am on mfllwa up town.”

“I remember the old p as, ’ said Owen. .“I was
downghere last year gunning and fishing. Is it oc-
cu 1e .

‘P Not yet; but the part I was with, who are the
owners, have bad it re a red and talk of moving in
next week. But this on’t interest you. Have you
seen Mr. Bookout to-dav i"

“No, I thought of ca ' there on my way home-—
you saw the paragraph in thenpaper, I suppose,

' about that affair at the mansion?

“Yes—and that was one reason why I wished to

who"

. himself that he had done so.

I thought

    

THE WIFE’S snénnr. 17

"From that paragraph I judged you could not
have taken her—lolar—inw the house?"

“ Certainly nor. it was her request that I leave
her at the gate,” replied Owen in asilent rage with

For what an opportu-
nity he had lost to win the young girl’s gratitude.
Possibly he would have encountered the burglars
and put them to flight.

Alpine sighed, and lesumed the chair from which

he had arisen.
” It is a matter for future regret—like all the rest
of it,” he said; “ but she is the central figure upper-
most in my mind. I am anxious—very anxious—to
hear something of her condition. Suppose you go
up there and make inquiry?”

“I would be very glad to—serve you," said
Owen in jealous surprise at what he looked u n as
an evident intention of clinging to the girl defl-
ance of what had occurred.

Al )ine noticed his hesitation. ,

“' here would be nothing extraordinary in your
calling, Owen, basing 'our action u on the item in
the papers. You woul probably on ysee the house~
keeper and m name would not be mentioned."

“ shall ca if you wish it," said Owen, reluct~
antly, after a moment’s reflection; “ but I am bound
to say that my reception yesterday from your
father was not of the kind to stimulate any special
efforts in that direction. He would not even receive
the message with which I sought to soften the blow."

“What did he say?” asked young Alpine, in a
constrained voice.

. “He was more vehement and stormy than you
ever saw him. A perfect tlixgerl—in the first out-
burst of his passion your ' 9 would hardly have
been worth a button!”

“So fierce as that?"

“Yes. And now I remember, he shouted: ‘Tell
him he is no longer my soni’ and ordered me ‘awayi’
in wrath and scorn, with other words I was too much
disturbed to remember.” 7

“ It is another regret added to the load Iaheady
bear,” commented Alpine, “that you should have
sufiered for my sake. And she—and she—did she
say nothing?” ‘\

‘ Fell as if stricken with death," cried Owen, un-
sparingly, anxious to color the picture all through—
“ fell as if dead into Mrs. Alpine’s arms."

Edward Alpine‘s face was turned away and his
strong frame shook with anguish.

“ And you saw her no more?” he uestioned, after.
a minute or two had elapsed, wi his face still
turned away.

“Yes; she came into the hall not as I was leav-
ing where Mr. Bookout had f0 owed me, bearin
herself like a queen, whose crown had been insult ,
and gave me a ring which she ordered me to give
you. Here it is,” producinglit as he s oke.

Alpine reached out his and mec anically with
his gaze still averted, and the other dropped the
ring into it. ' '

There was a glow of exultation in Owen’s manner
which the unhappy young man did not observe.
The fierce jealousy that flamed in his dark face at,
every thought of Iola’s love for Al ine, ave way
for 1 e moment to an expression of ump .

For some momentssilcnce ensued.

“Under the circumstances, then, I say no more
about your calling " said_Alpine at length. “Though
I was desirous o obtaining the very latest news
from the house.”

“ I had already determined calling on Mr. Bookout
as I went up—town. and shall of course in uire what
information he has, and if you wish w' reportto
you in the eveninfi."

“I shall be ob ged to. ou, Owen, it youwill do
so,” said A] ine, ri-ing Wit some weariness of man-
ner. “Itw on] add another to the obligations
that your work 0 last night laid me under."

 

see you." I
Owen braced himself up strongly, very doubtful

of. what was conduit

“You are lavish of your words to-dn ," said
0mm, recovering his composure with an ei‘ort, and
r a sudden gleam of cunning in his eye, that hisVisxtO!
did not See. >

  

18

.y

[I

“ I only regret that I was unable to do more, but '

since you are so good as to mention it. there is one
thing that occurs to me. Mr. Bookout of course
knew nothing of my taking the young lady home at
your re ueet; it is just possible that when he hears
of it, as t is almost certain he will on Miss Marl‘s re-
covery, that he might be inclined to blame me. In
such case a line from you would do me good service.
to the efi'ect that it was by {our order and at your
request that I have done w at I have, and that in
short you assume the consequences of my acts."

“ Of course, if you wish it," said Alpine, with ap-
parent surprise' “ nothing is easier; but I don
suppose you will have any trouble. Give me a

on ’

He drew a sheet of aper before him, and dashed
0d! a few lines, which e read, as follows:

“It was at my request and at my desire that
Douglass Owen has done what he has. I assume the
entire consequences of his acts. EDw. ALPINE."

“ There! will that do?”

Owen's eyes sparkled with a dangerous light
which, however, he hastened to vail from observa-
tion by bending over to look at the paper.

"Just the thing," he replied. “ Of course it may
not be necessary. But thrice armed is he who has
the wherewith when it is necessary—as some poet

did not sa ."
ll7 see you to-night, then?" questioned Al-

“1 she
pine, preparing to de ; and havin received an
good-by, he

answer in the afl‘lrmat ve, with a bri
took his de arture.

Owen w ted until his footsteps died away and a
sardonic smile curled his lips.

“ A splendid thou ht that ” he asserted, looking
at the paper young pine ha given him. “ He as-
sumes the consequences of all my acts. While in a
legal point of view it would not shield me, perhaps,
from some things, yet it would be sure to have
weight and consideration with Frazier Alpine—
:liouldtitever become necessary for me to put it to

ie tos . - -

He carefullyfplaced the paper away in his pocket
and let himse out, locking 6 door behind him.

 

CHAPTER XVIII. '
A GHOSTLY NIGHT.

Mn. Jams BOOKOUT did not return to his bachelor

quarters in the city that evening.
' The conversation between himself and Mr. Al ine
in the fibre , hitd been so extended that the aw-
yer yielded 0 the nt request of  friend and
client and romaine to supper: devot the half-
hour succeedin in oing over the disus wing, the
scene of thelas ni t‘s startling adventure.

Later in the eve , finding a general air of rest-
lessnessMpervading t 6 whole household, from the
stately r. Alpine himself and his fair wife, to the
bell boy who opened the door, he succumbed to
solicitous requests and concluded to occupy for the
night the room always at his disposal in the man-
810D.

As a natural consequence of t Douglass Owen
did not see the lawger at his o co ashe had ex-

cted, and did not 0 tain the latest information to

ring to Ned Al ine. L

The weather min the day had been unusually
fair, but toward nig tfall there was a lowerm of
clouds on the horizon, a mist vapor rolling up tom
the fields and river, and a minution of the
in s that denoted a probable storm.

ith the final disappearance of the sun and the
coming on of darkness the rising wind began to lift

the branches and shrubbery surrounding the man- 4
sion in a manner that gave the terraces and lawntseg I
esen .

.widely different aspect from what they Jr
with the sun full upon them in the earlier av.

“A ghostly night. William," said Mrs. Wigsmlth
the housekeeper,‘to the footman, a man of flori

face and visage. whom she had’ ordered to accom-
‘

 

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

 

_. silence within, and that anything
sun’s j teful."
I

     

of duties in closing up for

puny her on her ro
be night. “A night or disturbing elements-for
s

I ghos .

“ Ho, ma’am, hi don't like to hear you say that—
the very hides. makes in solid flesh creep."

“ Nevertheless, it is rue," affirmed Mrs. Wig-
smith with grim satisfaction at the apparent tremor
of the footman. “A man of your tried courage
shouldhave no fear of hosts," she continued. lac-
ing great emphasis on e word that appeared so
disturb the footman.

“ Ho, not at all, ma‘am, hi ‘avo hotten seen them in
the old countr . My heyesl what was that 7" with
a start and 9. amp that took him nearly through
the doorwag.

“ Only a at that has got in through the open win-
dow." responded the housekeeper, grimly. ‘ There.
he has gone out—close the shutter and don’t stand

' there starin iatme."

“Yes, ma an}. Hit‘s all right, ma’am. But that
hafiair of last night d'ye know ma’am, was hanough
to hupset the ‘ouse for some t me to come."

“ Never mind about the affair of last night, Wil-
liam,” said Mrs. Wigsmith severely, “ but go on
with the closing up." .

. And so, without further words, and perhaps awed
into silence by the [ghostly elements he dreaded, the
footman marshale the way ht in hand.

Mr. Bookout walkin up an down leisurely, first
in the spacious dra ng-room, then on the porch,
then a ain in the library, while left temporarily to
himsel , noted—like a man with a keen Sixth sense,
of observation, this and other instances that con-
firmed his impressions of the restless and untenable
feeling that was abroad.

“It will take some time to at things settled down
into the old channel of calm placidl y, ' he remarked
to Mr. Alpine as that entleman entered the library.

“ Yes, yes,” assent Mr. Alpine with unusual force
of manner. “It has been a miserable business from
first to last. AsI told you before, the house has
been completely u set. shall look to yo my good
friend, to help us hrough. Mrs. Alpine, ear soul,
is so inexpressibly disturbed that she will hardly
join us again this evening. W’hat With her constant
attendance on Iola, and the extra care entailed I am
excee ‘ ly anxious for her sake. is not ac-
custom to excitements of this or, indeed, any other
kind. If we only had the making of the world—you
and I, Bookout—it seems to me that we should order
things quite diflerently."

“ es," responded the lawyer with emphasis.
“ That is certain—at least if we did not, it should not
be for want of trying."

“ Still, as we are now in for it,” resumed Mr.
Alpine with more cheerfulness of manner, we “must
entertain ourselves, as we have done before on more ‘
nus icious occasions.

“ arkl” he added with his fin r raised warn-
ineg, as alurid flash threw a blin ' g lare on the
darkness outside followed by a terri c burst _ of
thunder. “ See, m friend, the wisdom of m mast-
ing on your remaining, besides the 511an . benefit
of your presence to us. Think what a dull journey
you won d have had of it gomg th h the storm. ’

He pushed an easy-chair as he spo e toward the
la er, and helfiid himself to another opposite.

“ 0 on feel 9 talking?” he asked.

Mr. ookout elevated his eyebrows in re onse.

“ I merely asked," continued Mr. Alpine,‘ because
the sounds outside somehow seemed to enforce
like discussion or
argument might beldistas

‘If prolonged—yes," said the lawyer; “ and I
confess that esounds outside affect me in the same
manner.

" Then my proposal is for chess ” said Mr. Alpine
pulling out a handsomely inlaid chess-board an
arrangin the chess-men.

“ Just e thing," responded the law er.

And so the two gentlemen sat down armoni .
to a sharply contested game which lasted with lit
advantase to either till the clock struck eleven.

 

 

 

 

4

.;.\,..;

  

 

 

 

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

io,

 

Looking Up with astonishment, Mr. Alpine drew
out his watch in continuation of the hour, and pro—
ceeding to wind it remarked with a half-suppressed
yawn as he looke at the chess-board:

“ It’s the same old thing. Bookout. We are a
strongly matched pair and may as well stop where
we are. I was in hopes that Mrs. Al ine would have
. oined us but as she has not been ab c we must take
‘ er known wish to do so for the deed."

“Stay! do not ring the bell,” said Mr. Bookout as
his friend and host was about to do so. Ican find
my way up without troubling the boy. The door is
always on the latch.”

_ “And will always be so to you, my friend," said
Mr. Alpine with friendly warmth as he shook hands
and bade the counselor cod-night.

“ A splendid old mans on worthy of the man who
owns it," commented Mr. ookout to himself as he
ascended the broad stair-case; “ still it seemsto me ”
—with a shrug of the shoulders—“ as though there
was too much draught in the halls; suggesting colds,
influenz death. to unlike my snug little quar-
ters. Sti we must pay tribute to our position in the
world, whatever it may be. All, here is the room,
and certain to be well aired for the door is open."

He entered, closed the door, and turned up the .
light, glancing about him at the comfortable fur- ‘
nisliing—the ictures on the wall and the attractive
and reposefu bed. _

He removed his coat, turned down the snowy hnen
on the bed, flung off one or two of the extra. illows i
and lowering the gas, went to the window an looked 1
out. .

A large tree outside projected some of the branches
close to the sash, and a sudden gust of Wind brought j
the leaves against the pane. I

“ I am not easily disturbed," he said, observingly;
“but the gardener should exercise his skill here, for .
in a violent storm that tree and the rustling branches
would bring all sorts of uncanny noises around one s
ears. A dark night and a storm,” he added, as he
turned from the window and dropped the curtain.

He removed his boots and glanced about him. A
flair of easy slippers conveniently placed attracted

s attention. r

“A model housekeeper," he murmured, “or is it
Mrs. Alpine's forethought that has placed them .
here? No answer required; but they are satisfactory .
at least." he concluded, as he sat down in a large 1
easg rocker and thrust his feet into them. -

’l‘ at the restlessness and dis ulet pervading the i
household did not reach Mr. Boo 'out in his capacity ,
of guest was quite a parent, and yet he showed no
desire for slgeeg, or, deed, of any present intention 
of going to : for he sat in his rocker slowly mov-
ing to and fro with his feet upon an ottoman and his
head thrown back. with his glance sweeping the
angle of the wall above the cornice over the door.

Even the intermittent gusts outside with the heavy
drops of rain which murmured a somber melancholy ‘
against the window did not cause him to lift his
head from his restful position.
Twelve o’clock sounded, and still he sat there.

CHAPTER XIX.
on or me umn’s sums-s.

Tm: last echo of the city clock had died away
when, without moving‘from his position, he drew out
his watch. Not to verify the hour, it would seem, for
he did not glance at the face; nor yet to wind it, for
he took out no key.

An ancient time- iece, this—with a double case
opening in two pin-£31m interior and exterior—tho
inner sprin of whlc he softly touched, when it
flashed up h 'e a thing of life.

It contained the portrait of a beautiful woman.

Mr. Bookout’s gaze reverted to, it and remained
fixed as if there was a s ell about it that could for-
ever hold him silent, ent alled, and motionless. He
seemed h to breathe, and under the influence
his face appeared to lighten, the hard lines to melt
into tender sottnesa. and an expression of undying

O

i the shppers, but he now proceeded to
1 Eherance of some purpose which had taken hold of

‘turnedt e

I he has traversed before, he passed
, hell, turning once or twice to the fish: and left.

{)alth. of ennobling trust, to lift and exalt his “hole.
elug.

“ A daughter of the gods, divinely fair “ he
breathed to himself after a few moments‘ ence.
“She is like it still, in s ite of all. But, back!“ he
muttered, with a start ll '6 one who awakens to self-
enforced activity. “When I am dead, should I die
first, it may be known that I have it—that for
years I have carried it about me—but not till then."

He shut the watch with a snap, placed it in his
pocket, and, rising, went to the opposite side of the
room, where hung an admirable hfe-size portrait of
Mr. Alpine, by Thompson.

“ Good art and a. good likeness,“ he declared. ex-
amining the painting in all its details.

He then went tqthe large mirror over the man-
tle and stood lonkmg at his image reflected in it.

“That likeness." he breathed, ‘is robably equal-
ly good, and yet "—with a cynical g ance at the re-

ection—“ what sort of a picture is that to impress
any one? Bah!" and with his grim comment he be-
gan to walk noiselessly to and fro.

Evidently Mr. Bookout was in a peculiar frame of
mind for one of his usual habits and temperament,
for he still seemed disinclined to sleep.

A large comfortable ‘dressing- own hung conve-
niently for his use, which he ha not dput on with

0 so, in fur-

1m.
“ Matches, I shall need matches," he muttered.
He su plied himself from the safe on the shelf
as down to a mere star in the dark an
went out in the hall.
With the easy certainty of one who knows a route
down the 10:13

He reached a door in the party wall. A glance at
it showed him it was double bolted and a slight ex-
clamation came to his léps as he glanced at them.

They were unfastene . \
he said, “ that after all the excite-

“ Strange “
ment regardingthls Wing of the building they should
have n lecte to have shoved the alts. 1 am

afraid I all have to recall some of my encomiums
on Mrs. Wi smith thou h I suppose it is to be
charged to t e neglect 0 her assistant—the florid
William.”

While s coking he had softly opened the door and

Ste ped t rough, shutting it noiselessly after him.

here was no ap reciable difference in this part of
the house and the he had left, save perhaps the
ceilings were less lofty, and the halls not quite so
spacious. .

“ They have taken the precaution to-night to light
a gas-jet here,” he commented, with some surprise,
as he saw one dimly burnin . “ That is not special-
ly objectionable, though use ess, for lightning never
strikes twice in the same place, and gas-light scares
nobod . I must ascertain if any other theory be-
sides at of burglars would be tenable—though it
seems hardléy ssible—"

He did no ‘ the sentence but kept on through
the halls glancing into one or two of the rooms
where the cars were 0 en, and making use of his
gnatches, descended a ht of stairs to the floor

e ow.

He reached the room where Iola had been found,
when he nused a moment reflectively.

“A wil night out of. doors," he declared, after
going in, as a dash of rain flercer than usual struck

ainst the closed shutters, “and lonely enough in-
nide for ,ghosts to walk if one believed in such super-
stitions. \

He was in the act of passing into the next room
when he saw abright light stream in under the door.
He softly entered.

A woman white was standing in the middle of
tine ipartm nt witha cod of wax taper burning in

er am . ’

It needed no second glance to tell him that it was
Mrs. Alpine.

l

 

 

  

in

THE WIFE’S SECRET. '

 

She was clad in some soft white garment which
swept the floor and left her round fair arms bare to
the elbows, while her hair, which was wonderful in
its length and beauty, rippled over her dress like a
wavy, misty vail, reaching nearly to the floor.

As Mr. Bookout entered her disengaged hand went
swiftly to her lips with repressive action, as if she ‘
would suppress a shriek that startled nature sought
to force from her.

But her recognition of the lawyer was equally
from t with his of herself, and her hand fell slow-

y to or heart and remained pressed there with re‘
strainin force. V

“ Mr. ookout,” she breathed, in bones almost nat-
ural but a startled look like a hunted deer at bay.

“ Yes," he assented, with enforced calmness
moving toward her. “Like yourself, no doubt,’
in his customary matter-of—fact tone—“ I was seek-
in to solve a doubt in my mind”—

he words died on his lips as the lady, rigid as
death, seemed about to fall. ,
_ He sprung toward her, and seized the light from
her trembling fingers.

Her glance was concentrated on the window to
ward which he had turned, where one of the shut-
ters had been left open.

There was an expression on her face such as he
had never seen—a shocked, agonized revelation that
told this man of inscrutable mysteries that a knowl-
figge which for years he had expected and dreaded,

come to her at last.

For. following her glance at the window, he saw
a ghastly face, haggard and dark, with tangled
masses of snaky’hair about the swarthy features,
for a single instant visibly pressed against the glass.

Every semblance of life dropped out of Mrs. A1-
gine’s face, and the proud woman lay as if shocked

y lightning, lifeless in the lawyer’s arms.

But not for long.

With a convulsiVA start the inert limbs moved, her
hands passed slowly over her heart. and her eyes
opened on Mr. Bookout’s face, bending sympatheti-
cally over her. '

Something in the expression she saw there—an-

elic ininflnite tenderness and compassion—swept

rough her inmost nature. .

Only a. moment thus—and her strong, self-reliant
equipoise rallied life’s reluctant forces, and she was
herself a ain. 7 ,

She too up the wax-light.

“I will leave you to close the shutters, if you will,"
shesaid, with marked clearness of manner.

“The face which I imagined I saw there was, of
course, only the phantasmagoria of overstrained
nerves. Good-night.”

Quietly opening the door, he watched her as she
floated out of the room and out of sight, with his
customary calm. Yet he knew, and she knew, that
there would never again be quite the old distance be-
tween them. Nor on her part the dread that there
had been. /

For, in that one fateful, evanescent moment she

, had seen his soul.

CHAPTER XX.
EVENTS nova FORWARD.

ON theiollowiu morning Mr. Al ine took a some-
what earlier brea 'fast than usua as his friend and
adviser had expressed a desire to get to his ofllce as

change for the better, the conversation over the
morning repast was rather desultory than otherwise
-—the counselor’s utterance being mostly limle to
monosyllabic responses.

, In regard to the meetin with the Mr. Seacroft, in
accordance with the writ an arrangement made by
the lawyer, Mr. Alpine had no doub now of his be-
ing able to be present; ‘-‘ although last ' ht he had
had serious imgivin s," as he had declare when the
two rose from the reakfast-table. The counselor
mi ht therefore rely upon his being prompt, and
wit afew brief words of leave-taking the lawyer
hurried away.

Though it was somewhat earlier than his usual
hour for business, when he arrived at his office, he
found Douglass Owen already waiting there.

There wasa slight contraction of Mr. Bookout’s
heavy brows as he saw and recognized his visitor.
If his appearance was usual inscrutable it was far
more so this morning—if suc a thing were possible
—and before a word could be spoken Owen felt it.

“ I called upon you yesterday, sir " he be an after
the first, formal greeting was over, ‘ and di not find
you in. .

“That is ver evident,” interpolated the lawyer,
“but you (in me now—wherein can I be of ser-
vice?” with marked formality of manner.

“It was not a matter of business, Mr. Bookout,”
began Owen, “although I do not forget that you
have thrown some in my way of late—J

“NM—then. what?"

“The important thingI wish to ask " continued
Owen, determined not to be kept at a distance, not-
withstanding the abru t manner of the lawyer—
“ was to inquire about clap—Miss Marl. Howls she?"

Well, quite as well as could be expected, when I '

left there an hour ago.”

“I am glad to hear that. Her encounter with
burglars must have given her a great shock. I trust
you do not think me assuming too much in being
thus anxious?”

“ No; certainly not. Very natural, with the feel-
in 5 you entertain.” ‘

wen looked relieved.

And after a few more words on unimportant mat-
ters he took his departure. .

Mindful of his promise to N but With motives
quite different from those of frien ship he proceeded
to Alpine's hotel. '

He found the young man in his room, but nervous,
impatient and annoyed. But looking upon him as
a. friend the information he brought was welcome.

“ Girls are all alike about such thin ” said Owen,
oracularly, after havin stated that o a was again
as well as usual. “No hing disturbs them for any
length of time. They are ready to be 0!! with the
oldxlovenand on \Xilth the newgfiit halfly a day’s nlggco
or ess e ing pine very arp . as e g cc
of the lattgr fell at the assertion. ~ ’

“And perhaps it is just as well that it is so,” he
continued, “that they can be volatile and fickle."

“ Nw—no,” declared Alpine, emphatically; “ you
wrong the sex. Not light y do they turn away from
a deserving ob ect. I—I—could make no complaint
against herl hatever she does or might do she can
find a warrant for it all in the wretched course
which as ou well know, has been forced on me.
Mv o'n sh and prayer is that she masr be happy."

The dark eyes of his visitor glared at him with a.
jealous hatred but it passed unnoticed.

 

earl asnracticabie.
 Alpine did not make her appearance, but
made, amends for her absence by sendingcheerin
.reports from Iola’s chamber of the much nnprov
condition of the young girl; and also a brief message
from the young girl herself to her dear adopted
father, showing she was in full possession of her

mfi‘t‘l’igrgii‘itiizhmed away from the face of na-

ture, and in like manner Mr. Alpincls face had re-

' sual hi h-brcd repose. _ ,
' “figihtd 1(The natufi'al congratulations befitting this l

E suppzose ?" he questioned,.prepanng to go

“There is nothing else that I can do

for you, I

0, Owen; man thanks for what you have done.

I may, however, be aposition hereafter to recipro-
cate. I shall expect to see you again before I sail."

“ Your passage is taken 1” , n I

“ Yes. Look in to-night, if you are not too busy."

“ Very well—I will make it 9. int to do so,” and
with these final words he was 0 .

Taking a sta e he was soon down-town, and went
direct to his 0 cc. . I

lie was in the act of entering when qstcn coining

\ ‘

  

 

“we «1 _....., Ana‘s“.-.

 

vw

-4-—A-u.—u V—

 

 

 

 

 

toward him from the interior of tho hall-way, caused
him to turn in that direction.

He gave a start of surprise, for it was the vnilcd
Vlsitress who had taken her leave of him yesterday.

Before he could give expression to the thought
that came uppermost she had reached him and fol-
lowed him in. I

She did not shut the door behind her, but Owen
as if unwilling to have further intruders promptly
closed it. _

The woman threw back her vail disclosmg the
same features that Mr. Bookout had asked Edward
Alpine if he Wished to see.

So,“ she breathed in a resentful manner and in
accent not so decided y Fre ch as that she had ex-
hibited in her interview wit 1 the lawyer, “so, Mr.
Douglass Owen is not glad to see me this tiiiie~he
does not even offer me a seat—and I so long waitng
for him in the hall. I shall seat myself nevertheless. '

She evidently read his feelings ariglit.

Owen’s manner indicated clearly that her presence
was not specially deSired.

“I thought IBoniiemarch, you had gone‘ and was
under the be of that you were now well on your
voyage. I am not pleased to know otherwise, much

ood as your presence always does me. It only pro-
fongs my agony at parting. you know; and one hates
to be always in tears.” _ I

His words were coolly fii’ppant, but his manner, in
spite of his effort to the contrary, indicated that he
was putting a strong restraint qun himself, for his
eyes flashed with an unusual lig 1;.

None of these indications escaped the woman.

“ Mr. Owen must have breath to waste this morn-
ing, he is so facetious. You do not ask me my buSi-
uess with you?"

“No, Bonnemarth,” he answered, shortly. “I
thought all was said on that point yesterday that
was necessa to say.” , ,

“ But Mr wen had no money then?" her fingers
beatin a lively march on the desk by which she sat.

“ Di Mr. Owen tell you that he expected any?" he
answered, shaiply. I

The woman laughed. “ No, he did not."

“ Why, then. have you come back?"

She laughed again in an exasperating way, and
drummed a slowenand statelier measure on the desk.

“ l‘ll‘tcll you why, Mr. Douglass Owen."

The woman moved her chair so that the broad
desk was Sally-rely between them. “I have come
back,” she said, her voice lowered, and she looked
at hlm mtently, “because I wished to see Mr. Owen
after he drawn the money on the forged

cheque'.‘ a.
CHAPTER XXI.
rm: SPIDER AND HIS a B.

Tim man was too young in crime t meet the ms-
('OVI-BI'.$"=“1‘j Charge this implied without a tremor.
His dark face turned to a duskier hue and then
whitened out 111% a White ocean beach when a dark
wave re es; His lips moved as if they would aid
in the formation of words, but no sound came from
them. while hands involuntarily clinched as if
they would gladly have stricken her down.

The woman laughed again, but there was more
danger than musm in it to the ears of Dow-11855
Owen. Her eyeS, as sharp and glittering as his own,

were watching his every movement.
“ The big desins between us," she said. “ Perha P3
Mr, Owen Will sit down there?“ indicati a chair.

Withouta word he dropped into it, his sticugtli
for “winners

«T we ought m ood friend would
undel‘smm‘l Why Bonnemarch returned. Boune
wants money, as she told you esterday. she went
to your lawyer and what id she _et?—harely
enougll ‘0 Pay 11?? passage. But Bonne_ as changed
her mind: she Will not go to New Orleans- she will
go home to her own country—to Paris—where peo-

le live—live! Mr. Owen must divide that money
with Bonnemarch.” '

1

THE WIF'E’S SECRET.

 
 

 

allowed her to rocced from sheer inability to inter-
{white a word; iiit the demand for money, and the

nowledge that he had it and could purchase her
silence, called up all his bravado.

‘ What do you mean?" he demanded, with as-
sumed fiercencss, “by such lunacyr as this? You are
carrying it with a very high ham . You can extort
no money from me by threats. Why should I not
give you in charge of the police for what you have
done already?" .

“ Why?” and the wdmnn’s lau hter this time was
shrill, while her finger-tips on t o desk beat out a
funeral march. “Why‘r’ she repeated, rising with I
a swift movement from the desk, and With a cat-like
step reaching his wardrobe and throwing open the
door—-“ because of this—o thisi” pulling out the
s ortman’s hat and coat and hurlin them on the

cor. “This was the disguise Mr. wen assumed
to draw the money! Not to pass himself off for his
friend, Ned Alpine? 0h noi Ah-hal" she cried,
fiercely? “ Bonnemarch holds Mr. Douglass Owen
in the ollow of her hand! But never mindi he has
got the money and will share it with his faithful ser-
vant who has kept the other secret so long."

While speaking she had gone back to her seat,
and Owen as if by sudden impulse locked the door.

“ Perhaps," he said, with a fierceness that his
weaker nature seemed to draw from her own more
daring—“ perha s the hand is not so strong to hold
as you may thin ."

“Itis strong enough to crush all your projects,"
she declared with the calmness that certainty gives.

IMuch too world-knowing, as this woman unques-
tionably was, she had not enough wisdom to under-
stand or comprehend the danger of forcing a nature
like his to turn upon itself. . I

His hand rose mechanically to his breast-pocket.
There was no weapon there. Had there been, in
the des icrate strain that was u on him, it is ossi-
his the it'e of his visitor woul have been ut a
breath that vanishes away. Fortunate] or unfor-
tunately, his fingers touched a paper u1 istOcket—I—
that; given him by Ned Alpine-and on the instant it
flashed anew and electrical revulsion through his
mind. He drew it forth and unfolded it.

The strained and hard look on his face relaxed.
The fierce and deadly pallor that his dark Visage had
worn lighted up. I r’

“ Look at that," he said in a voice still hoarse.
but triumphant; and see what our threats are
worth. See my authority if you t nk my acts are
irregular.”

He held the paper toward her. I

The woman looked at it sharply and With some
suspicion. ‘_ ' i

“ We ,“ she calmly said. without any indication
of her actual thoughts. “ You must ve me money
all the same, though I will not say be —if you have
to share it with some one else." I '

“ Why should I give you any?" he demanded. With
the leer that belongs to small cunning; “my web
is not broken yet.” '

“ But it may be at any moment._ You forget our '
good friend, the lawyer. Sup osmg I should go
to monsieur, the lawyer and tel him Ithe truth—-
what on and I know. Ila would certain] give me
enoug to take me to Paris; but I wo d rather
have it from you.”

“ Well, you shall have it. Bonnemarch: but "—re-
membering that it was in large bills in the safe and
unwillingshe should see how much— “I can only

ive you a few dollars to-day,” taking some money

rom his pocket. “If on can come into-marrow
I will give you enough 0 take you abroad; in fact,"
he added as a sudden thought occurred to him, ‘ I
can get you a ticket by one of the Havre steamers."

“Very well—I Will ex ect it, then."

He arose and unloc 'ed the door, assuming his
previous flippant manner. I

She gathered her draperies as if afraid that some

 

The oowed and stricken younz man had thus far . neared without once looking

portion of her dress might touch him, and (heap.

 

  

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

 

He closed the door and stepping back of the desk
looked at himself in a mirror anging on the wall.

He smiled ‘mly. .,

“ ‘ Kill me, would she? By the looks of that
face—" e g the reflection—‘ I think that her dan-
ger we be far greater than mine!”

 

CHAPTER XXII.
IOLA I)! aim nocnom.

IN the comfortable morning room adjoining Iola’s
chamber, which was fitted up and adorned with all
the appliances and conveniences that modern art
could devise, or a young lady desire in a boudoir,
mother and daughter were holding an interview
which Mrs. Alpine regarded asof special imgortance.

it was rather late for the breakfast hour, nt Iola’s
illness which was now in a fair way to rapidly be-
come ath of the past, was a. sufficient justifica-
tion for the ateness of the hour.

From the first moment of hearing the name of
Seacroft pass Iola‘s lips in her wandering utterances,
Mrs. Alpine had decided that there was a deeper ,
mystery connected with it than any mere phantasy in
the girl’s mind. No alleged coinculence such as the
la er had spoken of could explain Iola’s knowledge I
of t e name, or set the maternal solicitude at rest re- I
garding it.

Not onl to obtain a clew thereto, but to learn all i
the facts ring upon her utterance of the name, I
was Mrs. .Alpine’s ulterior Purpose in sitting down I
with Iola to the meal—ha] lunch and half break- I
fast—in the quiet of the nuns; girl‘s apartments.

By careful inquiriw s 'illfnlly made, and by perti-
nent suggestions, she led her on step by ste until
the young girl With tears in her eyes sudden y rose
and threw herself in Mrs. Alpine’s arms.

“Dear mammal” she cried," for on are dearer
to me now than ever—a thousand-to d dearer—~wh
should I keep my heart from you who are so muc
oldeft,i so much wiser than I? I cannot do it if I
won . —

Mrs. Alpine drew her closer to her bosom in sym-
pathetic encour ement and kissed her tenderly.

“My darling,i your own hear}i prompts yon to
such a course it is wise. There is o counsel so safe
forayoun girl as that of a mother’s. I am sure
that my 10 can have nothing to tell that my love
could not excuse, though wisdom of the world’s
ways might not always a prove." , /

‘ Mamma Ihave seen uni”

“Himi— ward Alpine?“

“Yes.” - -

“ Impossible l-he has not been here since—"

“ o. mamma. but I have been to him—to his
hotell"—with hesitating speech and maidenly

blushes.
“_To his hotel?" echoed Mrs. Alpine in deep as-
mflliszhmgnt' rted I 1 '
es. asse o a, ow1ng more courageous
and eakingrapidly: fogrwith the ice. so to s eak'
once token, she felt the worst was over. “ I ear
Mr. Bookout say that id ht to Mr. Owen, the young.
man who came ‘here, t t the road to town was
smooth and safe and after you left me in my room,
I took the train and went direct to Edward 5 hotel.
What possessed me I cannot tell mamma”-— mind-
ful of tghe agizztfient reallleetorl in sits. Alpine’ls
acean rop a en eJu jrnen ana ea -
kiss IiJind caress. $‘But this I remgmber?’?she
continued, her voice athering stre 11—“ that I
wasdetermined to flu out why he— ward—had
—-done what he had; and I demanded to know from
his own lips, why he had thus waited until the last
and then rejected me at the altar? For what had
I done, except—except—love him too welll—and it
his love for me was so weak—"
The youn girl’s voice faltered. .
“ My dar ing.” cried Mrs. Alpine. sympatheticall
her in her arms. v“ Spare ourself the
ut I hope you did not spare ml What
butt-enchant W

 

 

gatherin

dgflihal to ’ use or justify
i e say exc

WW1 MN!”

“Very little momma. He did not even seek to
palliate his oilense. Yet his conduct was strange
- v strange. His countenance brightened
and htened when he first recognized me, as I
have seen it in dreams—as if he was rejoiced to see
me: and then as suddeililllg as if he recalled some-
thing he had forgotten, face changed and he or-
dered meto begone from his presence. But Iwas
firm and still demanded to know, until— Ohl mam«
ma! mammal he loves another," and the sweet.
voice’ broke in tremnlous tears on the matronly
bosom like the murmur of spent waves on an ever-
green shore.

For some moments silence ensued. .

“Did he, Edward Alpine, s'asi that he loved an-
other?" Mrs. Alpine at length ed.

“ Oh, no, no. But—but—that name—that name
which you sayI uttered of. Grace Seacroft; it was
on a letter which he had written. It was addressed
to her and la upon his table. Sheisstopping at
the same hote With him."

“ Did you learn anything of the contents of the
letter?"

“ No, oh, no.” ,

“Then wh should you think that he loves an-
other—and t at other the Grace Seacroft whose
name was thus addressed? Did he allude to it?"

“ No, mamnia," admitted Iola beginning to think
from her mother‘s manner that her own conchision
had been hasty regarding the letter. .

“It was then only your impression?" cdntinued
Mrs. Alpine reflectively.

“That was all,” responded Iola. “ But I—I—"

And in stamxnerin words, and little by little. Mrs.
Alpine ascertained t e additional facts-that Iola’s
excitement had overcome her and that she had
fainted. That the young ma Owen, who camein
at the moment had driven her Ohio in a carriage in
obedience to Ned’s orders. That he had left her at
the gate, and that she was making her .way in
through the wmg when she encountered the burglars
as was known.

Thus gettin .at all the details as faras practica-
ble, and disinc ned to believe as she was that Iola’s
im ression regarding the Grace Seacroft being the
fir With whom Ned was in love was correct—yet

renal ine was startledand alarmed re arding the
possxb ty of some pending scheme on e art of
fin: stringer bearing that name who had w tten-‘to

. p as.

A woman of great force of character like Mrs.
Alpine. was not ong in deciding upon acourse of
action, and at some fitting words of cheerfulness
and hope that eft Iola in a much happier frame of
mind she touched a hell for the housekeeper.

“ you will prepare ourself for a» drive in the
park just before sunset. think the benefit would be
substantial, my dear child.” she said suggestively,
and fondly embracing the girl she left her and de-
scended to the libr , where Mr. :Alpine was deeply
engaged with his ks containing the family

histor .

He lhoked up eagerl as she entered.

“I have copied it n," he exclaimed ’,’—the long
missing link that Bookout bro ht."

“You believe it satisfactory, 1: en?" she question.
ed with no 1; amount of interest.

“ Certai —I see no room for doubt. How is Iola?”

“Greatly improved, and Ihave suggested to her
giant thi]: afternoon toward evening we will drive in

e or ." ’

‘° ve ood ro osal, and on will flnditalso
beneficiallyfgr yougselg," he saidfregarding her with
tender concern. I

“ You are alwaysso thoughtful for me.”sheas-
sex-ted, reting her hand upon his shoulder. “I can
never re ay you."

“My ova, you have already,a thousand times.
and do daily. ,

“ I see on will not let me be our debtor. But a
truce to is. There is somet g that Iwished to

hat i again reference to the meeting withnthls stranger

afternoon at Mr. Bookcase

    

 

 

    

. 1--

m .
.n.

be» l .a a

3M

 

 

THE VVIFE’S SECRET.

 

 

“ My dear, what is it?"

“ You have no objection to my being present?“

“ You 1’” with some surprise in his tone. “ How
could I have if you will do me the honor, and think
the fatigue will not be too great?”

“Thank you. I shall then accompany you. What
is the hour of meeting?”

“ At three o’clock. .We will leave here in ample
time so as not to conflict With Mr. Bookout‘s prompt-
ness.

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
rm: MEETING AT noonou'r’s omen.
Ar the hour appointed, Mr. Al ins and his wife en-
tered the r of the building w erein the offices of
his legal :1 viser were located. passing as they did so

a young man coming out, who dofi'ed his hat with a ‘

YOI' profound bow.
r. Alpine did not acknowledge the salute, but
looked at his wife inquiring] y.

“ It is that young man who brought—the message,
I think,” she said.

Mr. Afpine’s features grew somewhat sterner.

“ I remember," he remarked, briefly. “ Bookout
sometimes gives him employment.”

They slowly ascended the stairs and were met at
the door by Mr. Bookout, who gave them a formal
greeting.

Whatever surprise the lawyer may have felt at the
presence of Mrs. Al ine was not apparent beneath
the inscrutable vail e always wore. ‘

“ The other arties are here before you," he briefly
remarked as e conducted them toward his rivate
ofllcc; an a. moment later a formal intro uction
took lace. .

“ . and Mrs. Alarms—Mr. and Miss Seacroft."

“ I anticxpate at you will both be sur-
prised," he added in a lower tone to Mr. Alpine.
‘ In fact, I confess to considerable surprise myself,"
——with his legal air of business strong on him, but
smiling pleasantly on his visitors;
mil: that in Mr. Seacroft's granddaughter for whom
he was solicitous of guardianship, I had expected to
see a. young ‘ l of rather tender years, and not the
distinguishe singer about whose voice the papers
just now are so filled with compliments.”

The old man, Edward Seacroft, with his smooth

" 'boyish countenance rosier than ever, which made

his hair seem, if possible. still more snowy, looked
exceedingly conscious at this.

" It is true I neglected to state my granddaughter’s
age in the note I sent on, but—"

“The Simple truth s. my friend." said Miss Sea-
croft, “that m grandpa has not realized but that I

am still a lit 6 girl requiring his care and super- '

n so you o—so you 0, nterru ted the old
gentleman. “ How could you get alongpwithout me,
my darling?" , .

“I have never expected to. grandpa. I have not
proposed to Mr. Alpine totake you under his guard~
lanship,” she declared With an arch_ lance at Mr.
Alfine, and a musical laugh in wine all oined.
‘1 or, as I have explained to Mr. _Bookout "‘ s 9 con-
tinued, addressing herself es eelaily to r. Alpine
and hiswife. “ this movement as been entire] with-
out my knowledge until this afternoon. In eed, I
suppose it is only the necessit of the case that
brought me into it at all," an she laughed enjoy-

in l . ,
pi-Episal falls to the ground—inasmuch as in the er-
son of one so reliant and so capable of managing Her
own affairs as Miss Seacroft has proved. by— y—

“B years of experience,” suggested Mrs. Alpine,
“as her identity. as the new and popular singer,
shows.”

“Yes. Thank you, my dear; that is what Iwas
hesitatin to so . '

“ And ficrrectiy understandin the situation." as-
Sorted Miss Seacroft. _“ For I re y do not see—how-
ever gratifying It might be to have our acious
supervision in my hem—Witwwl be at er fair

u
“ fgr I must ad- ,

or Just to ask it. My grandpa has been so disturbed
r by fears of what might happen to him." lookin at
him with deep feehn , “ that he has forgotten ow
old I really am. y. I am twenty-Six years of
age.‘
“ Is it possible, my dear?" exclaimed the old man,
in evidept astonishment, “that it has been so long
smce—’

“ Since the girl-baby drifted out to sea in the ruins
of the old summer-house?" interrupted liliss Sea-
croft. “Yes, grandpa, I am really twenltly- ix."

“Just—just—the a e m daughter M' dred would
have been had she ved, ’ said Mr. A] ine, with a
sigh of regret. “And—and——" he adde , with unu—
sual warmth of manner—“have you noticed how
strongly she resemblee—"

He started suddenly and speed in his eager utter-
ance as he glanced at hisw e, from whose handsome '
features a stran e allor had swe t the roseaio
hues, and whose s cc 'ed lance ha reverted from

the Iyoung lady to Mr. Boo out.
I “ “dear; he cried, in accents of alarm, “you
arei l

“I—I—the room! Is it not rather close? Do not
mind me—I am well already," she asserted, with
strong efforts at self-control. “ I had hardly noticed

, the resemblance,” she said. slowly.

The lawyer had risen swiftly, and thrown open a
door for more air and with equal celerity procured
from a locker a less of port.

She thanked h with a silent gesture, and drank
a ortion.
elieved of his anxiety, Mr. Alpine returned to the
subject.

“ There is certainlya resemblance to the Alpines,
a very strong likeness,"walking up and down ma-
Elsterialllg, and looking at the young lady. “ Proba-
ly‘ Mr. okout noticed it."
bl he lawyer glanced from one to the other inscrut-
a y. '
“ Since my observation is challenged, I should say
there was somethin of a. likeness. Perha s some re-
mote connectio " e added, suggestive y, “ dating
hack one hundre and sixty years. The recent addi-
tion to the family record conflrmsas much. You re-
: member the names?"
‘ “ Yes, yes, family names, of course," declared
Mr. Alpine with eagerness. “I had forgotten that.
‘ Certain] .thatisit. ’
, The g ance of Mrs. Alpine rested with forceful
concentration u on the lawyer’s face while he was
offering his so ution of the problem, and her lips
moved slowly at its read acceptance by Mr. Alpine,
,as if she would havehspo en.
‘ “Twenty-six!" smilingl said Mr. Alpine. in a tone
of special interest, as he ook Miss Scacroft’s hand.
“I had ads hter whose a e would have been the
same, had 5 e lived, and think she would have
looked like you. She died at the age of twelve, and
was buried at Greenwood. But this is family his.
tory, and does not interest you, though I am lad—
exceedin lyglad—that we have met. 1am rawn
to you rawn to you—more thanI can say; and
your andfather. too," he added, shaking hands
w1th h m. “I shall be glad to know you bot better
and trust you will visit us. And my dear wife,
know will welcome on.”
He turned toward . Alpine as he lie. i
There was a look of sudden anguish, expressible
and undefined, which passed over her face like an
electric wave, while trembling she strove to rise.
The alarmed oup sprung oward her, and she
i fell quietly back n her husband’s arms. r

CHAPTER XXIV.
IOLA mssma.

Tn sudden and alarming fainting-fit to which
I Mrs. Al ine had succumbed, did not readily yield to
the v ous restoratives and expedients suggested
by her anxious friends, and it was only when a phy.
. stolen was called that she could be aroused from her

l unconscious condition. .'

 

 

24

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

 

 

The lad was at length so far restored as to recog- i
nize her riends,and, after some little time for fur- i
then recuperation, was assisted downstairs to the ‘
carriage.

By this time, however, it was near dark, and with
a brief and informal farewell Mr. Alpine ordered
the coachman to drive direclly home, and it was
nightfall when they reached the house.

The _easy movement of the carriage, and the out
side air proved very beneficial to Mrs. Alpine, who
soon quite recovered from her sudden indisposition. ,

They reached home at last—Mr. Alpine saying as
he dismissed the carriage: “ Iola’s ride in t in park
Will have to be given up to-day; we are altogether
too’ late.”

“or course,” assented Mrs. Alpine, but we shall
easily console her for the disapponitincnt by an m:-
count of our new so uaiiitances. And that I‘CllllullS’
me that we shau a be anxious to hear the new
l‘iima Donna sing.” .

"I will arrange it to-morrow," said Mr. Alpine ‘
with renewed interest as they entered the house.

It was only natural, with the 'oung girl fresh in ‘
his thoughts, that Mr. Alpine’s rst inquiry was for
his adopted daughter. .

“She has gone out,” replied Mrs. Wigsmith of
whom the in uiry was made.

"Gone out "echoed both Mr. and Mrs. Alphine.
“With whom!”

“With that young man of Mr. Bookout’s. Ho ‘
came for her in a carriage."

Mr. Alpine seemed at a loss to understand who was
meant, but his wife‘s intuition grasped the house-
kee er‘s meaning at once. .

“ hat oung man, Owen,” she said in explana-
tion. “ 8 must have come here immeiliatel, after
he saw us oin into Mr. Bookout’s office. btrango
that she s oul have gone to ride with him, and
have staid so late, in her delicate health.”

“Came here immediately?” repeated Mr. Alpine.
“ I never heard of such assurance. An impertment
pu pyl How long has she been gone?"

he housekeeper glanced at the clock.

“ Nearly three hours.“

“Did she leave no word?”

“Nothing further than that she would return
soon. I have been watching for her constantly for
the last hour,” continued the housekeeper.

“Well,’that was all you could do," said Mr. Alpine.
“We will have supper, Mrs. Wigsmith. Probably
she will be here soon."

.The 8111399? was past, and table ‘cleared away'
eight, and nine o’clock came, and yet no sound an
no sign of the missmg 1018..

“I can hardl think," said Mr. Al inc, stopping
short in one 0 his walks across the ong drawing-
room and addressm his wife who was reclining on
a lounge comfortab y w ed in b cushions—“I
can hardly suppose that Io won] have one to
theater or opera without counseling wit us«
or With you, at least? Her absence is certainly
Without recedent.”

Mrs. pine suddenlysat upright on the sofa, as it
moved by the culmination of some previous thought

“Do not-get excited, my dear,’ she said, “but
draw a chair near me. I have something to tell {on
that may aid us in forming some conclusion“ t is

 

mere] a su position and I wish you to maintain
that calmness which I admire so muchin l
yo " and her hand glided into his. 1

. “ Vhat is it?" helflucstioned, with a brevity that
in another man we (1 have been ominous for the
d ed calm of which she spoke.

at! in as few words as possible she told him Iola’s
story.—How she had visited Ned, and of the young

man‘s stran e behavior and how she had seen the
letter with t e name of Grace SeacroftI whom she ,
imagined N ed wasin love With—with some hesitation .
of manner in her narration ofithis part of the story.
And how he afterward had sent her home in Owen's

care. 1
“And our opinion is not the some?" he assumed ‘
as Mrs. , inc collided. " ‘

00

 

"No, not then nor now, since I have seen the

onng woman. he only love she is likely to hrwc,

eSides that for her grand a, is for her art. There
is something doc or in t o youn man‘s conducr
than I can accoun for, and, in tha connection, is it
not possible that he has sent this Owen, who pre-
suligedly is his mend, not daring to come here him
so

He arose from his seat and touched a. bell.

“No Alpine," asserted the chivalrous old gentle-
man, “ can be allied with dishonor. No Al inc
moves by stealth to do a deed that shall not bins to
find it shame; And no Alpine Will submit to be the
sport and prey or a shar or, even though he assume
to be of his own kith an kin."

A servitor answered the summons of the belL

“ William, order my home, Black Friday, to be
saddled at once and bronchi m the door.” \

“Yes, sir." _ . .

“ My dear, surehv on do not think it Wise to go
down there?” sai rs. Alpine, as the man disap-
peared, yet with a gleam in her. eyes that showed an
approving resolution equal .to his own.

“ Wise, or otherwise, ‘ With a determination that
was irrevocable—“l go, and go at once," and two
minutes later he was mounted on a. sWift black mare,
bidding Mrs. Alpine a temporary farewell in the
covered carriageway. .

She watched him as, with a Vigor twenty years
younger. he sped away in the level moonlight
southward like an arrow from a bow.

CHAPTER XXV.
rnrnnn AND son.

QUITE unmindful of all this activity which had
such vital interest for himself, Ned Alpine, inhis ho-
tel apartments, was busily engaged in packing up
for his transfer aboard the steamer on t e morrow,
and had just finished strapping his last portmanteau
when there came a thunderous knock a the door.

The extraordinary force of it precluded the sup«
position that first came to him that it _was Owen, or
any of the pee 1e of the hotel, and instead of re-
sponding verb {Ito the summons, as he mightother-
wise have done, 9 5 runs and opened the door, but
fell back in asto ' eat before the one he saw
there.

“ Father!" he gasped as he sunk into a chair,

For the excite manner of M_r. Alpine at this late
hour so widely contrasted With his usual charac-
teristic calmhthat iLh‘e son could scarcely beheve
that indeed 0 saw 'm.

The evidei’it preparation for departure did not tend
to soothe the visitor. .

“ Where is she?” he demanded. in threatening ac-
cents, without making the shghtest response to his
son’s exclamation. _

“ She?" questioned Ned, in a._bew11dered. manner,
as if doubting if 119,th aright. “Who do you
mean? ‘

“You know very well for whom I am seeking—
Iola. What have you done With her?"

“ Iola,” cried the younger man,springing to his feet
with an excitement scarce less apparent than that
of his visitor. “I had heard from Mr. Bookout,
through Owen, this morning. that she was well.
He‘s anything happened to her?"

e .

“What—what? tor villain the h I may seem to
her I would give my’life to savelhger from harm.”

T e old gentleman looked at him steadily tor a
momen . i
“ I did not know until now that you were such a’
consummate actor, hypocrite andscoundrel as to add
outrage to injury toward the innocent young girl
you profess to love." I

“ stop, sir—stop! Take back those words. No
saint enshrined in cathedral niche«has higher lace
amid the holi shrines of earth than has she, Io in
my heart of earts. Take back the wrongful words!
SiraI am an Alb meant? yOWM—thgfiggouuidefipfi
to-ay incapa eo uringthatno
ml; the wordsl" ‘ .-

 

       

 

._._ human-n. manna A, an," - ‘

   

 

unlimdl 40’s.). ‘JJ..- . h smt. I

v- “a. ....._...._,..-.~-,.._ N.

u..- _.‘n_-_n_l. .— u- g, 5

~ seizing his coat and hat.

‘ TEE 'WIFE’S SECRET. l5

._

It was a at picture, the father and son stern]
confronting women each fierce and determine
but declaring strongly for the right, while an invisible
gulf of misunderstanding rolled between.

Someth' in the no 16 hearing of the younger
man seem toimpress the father even more than
his words.

There was a quieter cadence in his tone as he
declared: .

“Never until now has the name of Al me been
con led with dishonor and disgrace; nor id I think
to lilac to meet such humiliation as my only son has
thrust upon me, without warrant—without excuse."

"Father," cried Ned earnestly, “ father I-——for I
will call you such—whatever has happened to Iola,
it is my right to know. I demand—I 1m lore it."

“And you rofess not to know tha your friend
Owen has ki a pod her from the house? You,
whose ready tool e was so recently i"

“Oweni—he was to have been here this evening.

I So help me heaven, I am guiitlcss of this.”

“ And this luggage—this packing up for de-
parture—i"

‘ “ Was because I sail in the next steamer. Nothing
else. And, oh, believe me or not, as you will, how
glad] would I take Iola with me as my Wife."

“  then is the meaning of this? What the
comgilication that led you to insult Inc—outrage her?"

“ ir, you shall know. I am married alreadyl
Nine years 'aigo I met an attache of a ballet-troupe
and marrle her—three weeks thereafter she flcd
with anotherman, and a short time later I heard

.and believed she was dead. I did not know other-
wise until the day of my arrival here one hour
before the time fixed for my marriage to Iola. Then
I was told that she still lived."

“ Is this true?"

“ True as that you and I live."

"Then why was I kept in ignorance all these

cars

y “Because I believed the woman dead and looked
upon it as a boyish offense, by which I had terribly
sufi’ered—somethm to be forgotten, and not to be
inflicted on on. _ ut while we talk we forget Iola.
You say she missmg?” _

“ Since four o'clock this afternoon. She went
away with Owen in a carriage, saying she would
soon return.”

“Then I must go in search of her. He must be
hunted down at once ” he cried, with emphasis,

“ Sir, she shall he found.’

“Do you know his address?"

“ Only his office—but I will find him. Do you re-
turn home and telegraph me here if she has arrived.
If not, meet me in the morning, and meanwhile I
Fill halve scoured every nook and corner in the city

or a c ew.

The old gentleman hesitated for a moment; but
t‘here was no mistaking his son’s enery and deci-

on.

t Every 11811le of the young man's being seemed

arouse .

“ shall trust you in this matter,” said the father,
sim ly-about to de art— “ and Will adopt the comse
tbs. you suggest. arding what you have told
me I will not now say what its influence hereafter
may or may not be nor will I express any useless
regrets, but I will add this: That thus far there does
not up to be willful crime in your conduct, and
—th Goal—there are no mistakes in life that
cannot be stoned for] Good-night.”

The door opened and closed. The grand old man
was gone.

f Alfie‘ig Ned who litad listened with Itiowelfi lhead and
68 S 0' rygre an penitence ow e no pen

could do justice, speedily followed. .

CHAPTER
lac $31-$11, 3 th )1
Lsrus 6 our 0 ngers u on e oro-
logue an turn back the indicator that sweeps the
circle of the passing hours.

 

When Mr. and Mrs. Alpine, going into the lawyer's
office, met Douglass Owen coming out it proved a
turnin point to the unagilusted scale 0 future ur-
poses, ut feebly balanc in the oung man‘s m nd.

Mr. Alpine’s non-recognition 0 him was bitterly
resented as he walked away.

“An old Bourbon," he muttered “who is unable
to see or understand anything beyond his own
horizom I need expect no encouragement from him
in visiting his house. But what are they going to
:10 the??? No matter; is this, or is it not, my oppor-

um y ’

He walked u the street with rapid strides evolving
the thou ht t at had suddenly come uppermost,
and H y smote his hands, with an emphatic
gesture, as he declared:

“I will do itl Bookout's treatment of me this
morning was cool and shabby enough. and this
afternoon it is unbearable. lerhaps he has sus-
picions of me. How do I know but what Bonne-
march has already betrayed me to him? But whether
so or not, it is plainly apparent that he intends to go
back on all his promises at Instr—which, by the way,
have always been ambiguous and uncertain. I have
nearly four thousand dollars in ready funds. Busi-
ness is perfectly dead, and it would take eve
dollar to pay my debts. To-morrow Bonnemarc
will come for her hush~money, and—and she is not
to be trusted, even then. Why not strike now, while
the iron is hot? Success hinges on immediate action.
Shall I act? I willi—

“ But not a step without the girl! With her once
out of the house, with the start I can now obtain
she cannot easily be found, and when found it wil
be as Mrs. Douglass Owen. Success will condone
everything, and she and the will easily forgive the
man whose love and audac ty has taken (ice to
means to win her. How lucky that Ned men oned
the old House on the Marsh yesterda l Nobody
there; it is Just the thingl The isoiat on is com-
Blete, and et it is easy of access by boat or rail.

ne night t ere will bring her to terms—with such
arguments as I shall use in my own favor and with
Ned’s secret to aid me, to so. nothin o my love,

ainst which no woman can ong hol out.”
is dark passion-haunted face lighted u with a
glow of intense eagerness at the picture h fancy.
con 'ul‘ed up.

“ er consent once gained,” he resumed, "a little
trip to a Jersey clergyman will finish the business in
short order, and we can return at once to the city,
notify ‘papa and mamma,’ and wait for forgiveness
until the storm blows over. This is the Ian. Eas
enough~my fate declares it! And it sha bedonei ’

He 5 rung into a_passmg car and went direct to
one o the North nver pie a few blocks further
u where he entered one o the numerous barge
0 cos to be found in that locality, where tugs and
boats of all kinds were on hire. e came out again
in a few moments accompanied bya clerk, and going
to theend of the pier took a glance at a smallsteam-
tugl mg there._

. S e was originally built for a private yacht,”.
said the clerk, “ draws but little water and can run
like a deer," in elucidation of her good ualities.

“ All the better, as it will save valuab e time. She
win do. It will not take her long to run up to the
landing I mentioned 1’"

" No—only a few minutes."

A quarter of an hour later the little steam- ran
alon de a landing well up~town on the east e of
the ver, and Owen sprung ashore.

A carriage was close at hand waiting fora fare.
He called to the driver, said aword or two, and t in.
brilirfid a (few minutes afterwirld heuwas he w“?!

e, an on or anex ting terview
Iola at the Alpine #3323011. ‘

“ I need not enlarge on his love for ou," continued
the crafty villain, in furtherance 0 his urpose, as
he watched the shifting li hts and she ows of the
varying emotions reflected the young girl's face—
“ but I will say to you that all the grievous trouble

 

    

l

24 chili WIFE’S SECRET.

 

that has come between you will be speedily removed | There was no one there, but she saw a door open
if you come to him at once. With his father‘s anger at the further end, and she passed swiftly, expect-
upou him he cannot venture here, and there is no _. antly toward it.
time to be lost, as he has already secured his pas- It was an ancient chamber with quaint furnish-
sage to leave by the next steamer.” ings, which passed unnoticed for the one face in all
To leave the country?" the world for which she was looking was not there.

“ Yes—forever, unless you come to him." There was another room at the other end and to-

“Enou h—I will go,” and the young girl arose in . ward this she turned, but at that moment the outer
brave sel -reliance. l door by which she had entered suddenly closed, and

In res onse to Owen’s suggestion of the need of a key turned in the lock outside, while retreating
haste, s e replied that five minutes would be ample footsteps sounded on the stairs,
time to et ready; and in truth not four had elapsed l Up to that one startling moment as we" have seen
before wen Was di'iVin tnumghB-ntl away, 811- ’ not athought or question of her lover’s bein there
:piainin as he went that ad was . own t 6 bay. and had entered her mind, nor even yet, until s 9 had
that he sent a boat in his service for her. l glanced into the second chamber, looked again

The few minutes occu ied in driving to the boat . throu h all three of the rooms, and finally realized
passed hke a dream, an before she could hardly lje- that t e strong door by which she had entered was
alize it the landing was reached, the carriage dis- locked against her egress.
missed, and she was hurried on board. . She did not sink or swoon, but like the good, true

She sat in the little cabin of the tug alone while girl she was as she realized her helplessness, fell
Owen, in discussion with the captain outside, was u on her knees in earnest prayer to the great All-
Watching the foam as it flew from the bows in their ether to protect and guide her. Rismg refreshed
rapid progress down the river and harbor. and strengthened she began to examine the windows

At his suggestion, however, as the little steamer and their fastenings.
began to run closo in, she came outside and watched The bitter disappointment of not seeing her lover,
the lessening objects cityward, until at length he Idtled to the revelation of Owen‘s treachery, which
called her attention to a low, incongruous pile of Her hasty pin'pose-or rather, thought of attempt-
buildings standing solitary and alone, which ing to escape _by the Windows, iron-barred as they
seemed,as seen from the ocean, tooccupy an out- were—was relinquished before it was fairly .con-
jutting point, as an arm of the sea flowed to the left ceived, and she nerved herself to await Owen 3 re—
0 i . turn With such fortitude as she could command—

“ That is our destination,” declared Owen to her, ‘ for, whatever his purpose, she had no doubt but that
pointing it out, and, retendiug to scan closely the he would soon reappear. .
old observatory at t etop. he added: “He might She sat down in one of the carved window-seats
be up there now watching for us, but will not show and watched the sun slowly sinking to the west,
himself till assured of your forgiveness—and in With such feelings as she had never before known.
asking it he desires to meet on alone," How long she sat there she could not tell, but the

The glow on the oung gir is face at this insidious sunset glow on award, and inarsh, and sea had be-
suggestion, show how eager and anxious she was gun to deepen ,towm‘d tWfllght,\Vhen there was a
to arant it. ‘ sound of a movmg bolt, an opening door, and Doug-

In a minute or two more they rounded the point 18-58 Owen Stood before her.
and skillful] ran alongside of the old sea wall; and, He brought Ymh 111111 a small hamper, “idem?
at a place W ere it was broken down she sprun Well filled, which he set down on entering; an ,
light y ashore, While Owen, slowly fohowing, ME rapidly a reaching filer, dropped on his knees, _
some concluding words with the captain. ‘Dear s Marl, e cried,with all the earnestness

“We shall return by rail," he said, after com. and pathos at his command, “ unless your maidenly
pliinentin the captain on the speed of his little Pity 15 W 1’00 111 $515815 love. I know it Will take
craft; an bidding him e(good-day he lingered to years for you to Orgive me! _ But I love youl love
watch him, as he steam out again into the hay you—With an absorbing paSSion—"
and homeward. “ Love?”

By this time the girl was half-way up the slope, , It was a scorpful echo that runs through the room.
but half—ashamed of her ap arent emess, re- The OWEI-Vl rose from her 56” finperiously, dis-
turnedafew steps. to_ meet t e Wily so emer who fu - .
detained her by oniting out surrounding objects— “What. Sir,” she exclaimed, “can on know of
including the rut e depot halt a mile distant—until love, to descend to such artiflothsuc villainy as

 

the little steamer was well beyond signal, anda mere this? What have I done " she cried,a}:upealingly),j “ to '
o

speck in the distance. inspire alove so base? bees love injure its ect?
They ascended the slope together. Does love stoop to perfld and outrage? Does love
“If you will seat yourself on the porch," he said. entriarp b misleading the eart’s best aflectiontNo.”
for the first time showing hesitation, which however. “ et_ or years I have loved on with a love that
sheiascigbed ltlti) quite a ‘difllerent cause, “I will go in has thrilled every nerve of my ing. Almost stran-
an re are m.
“ I; it necessary?” she asked. worshiped you from afar as the Eastern devotee
His hand was on the outer doorbut as he expected worships the sun, Without knowing—without think-
he found it locked, and with an admonition to l lug-that you could at last he minel But now I am
“ wait.” he went around and effected an‘ entrance at ! free to hope, to urge—nay, if it must be, to insist
the back.  upon its acceptancel I love youas man never yet
“There is nothing to prevent your going up to 1 loved woman, and would marry on at once. Ibelg
him now if you wish." he eclared, as he threw open 1 I implore, I demand our love. mise me— Hus l
the door and bade her enter. ! a moment,and hear his 1" be e aculated, as she was
“ I will go, then," she said, Without a moment’s about to speak. “So long as Alpine was your
hesitation. r accepted suitor, and while your hopes were centered
A broad, wide hall was before her and he guided inhim, I could not and did not speak; but knowing
.her through this to the old oaken staircase. you are parted forever, Why should I not?"
“ Go up softly one flight and turn to the right," he “ Ported forever?” she faltered.
instructe while his dark eyes gleamed Wit a look 3 “Yes—foreverl For, whatever I have told on to
that we have been a warning had she seen it. secfie our coming here, Ned Alpine is' My
— ma e
Tgaamedvgirl felt 11 st ngth ddenl l ving
e young or re 51; y as
in the broad window-

 

m m Toms.
San lided up and opened the door into the old her and she sat down again
Dutch overnor‘s room of state. i seat. '

l

    

 

gersa8we have been, I have adored you. 1 have '

.; map”;

 

    

 

"ch. he is married! Married yours a o, as Mr.
Bommut knows foi'hc has seen his wife. is father
has disinhcrited him, as 'ou must have heard him
declare, and he sails for ‘uropc to-morrow.“

“ How can I believe you who have already so gross-
N deceived me?"

“I might a pen] to Mr. Bookout for the truth of
this. but I will do better! I Will show you, that while
Ned may not have forgotten you, he at least knows
his duty, and it is by his 511; rcstion and by his
figthority, that I—bis friend—have done what I

ve ll

“ Monstrous! I cannot believe itl"

“Look, then, at this papcr," he suggested, risin
and flourishin it before the eyes of the agitate
girl. “ What oes he say in this, dated only yester-

ayr.

Striving with all her pOWPl‘ of mind to reserve
her calmness, the girl took the paper, satis ed her-
self of its genuiness, and read it:

“1H8 atmy re urst and at my desire rhaf szglass
Owen. has done to at he has. 1 (18.310726 (hm. mil/7m con-
Sequences of his acts. Enw. Aers."

This terrible perversion of its original purpose was
too much for the young girl. The utter heartlessness
it seemed to exhibit overwhelmed her.

She sunk back faint and exhausted. .

‘1‘ Leave inc—leave mel” she cried, in an ngomzed
v0 ce.

Miscreant though he was, Douglass Owen had the
grace to do so. , .

d The day softened into twilight and the twilight

as
to 9 over the sea and the stars came out one by
one, but yet the girl dld not move nor did Owen re-
tur

11.
At last her heart-breaking sobs ceased, her agi-

tated breathing became more regular, and with ,

long-drawn sighs, she fell asleep. In spite of_ all
her recent agitation and of her strange surroundings
—sleep beneflcent and blessed sleep, came to soothe
and re esh her at last. . '

The soft silvery light stole in at the Window re-
vealing in mellifluent splendor the shapely contour
0f the young girl’s form and face as she lay, her
head upon her arm, on the Window-seat.

Suddenly there was a slight but nomeless move
ment at the side of the room opposxte that where
the young girl was lying, and one of the panels—that
on which the old Dutch Governor was painted—sud
denly slid to one side, and a Wild, haggard face ap-
peared at the opening.

Twice before the reader has seen that strange ap-
parition—once at Mr. Bookout’s office—and again
pressed against the window-pane on that stormy
night when Mr. Bookout and Mrs. Alpine met in the
disused wing of the Alpine mansion.

But it was now even more haggard and ghastly
than then; yet, withal, there was a strange fire In
the eyes—a singular expression of loss or or sufier-
in or perchance of something loved and found
w an least expected. .

For some minutes the face was visible thus, and
then with a sigh of deep melanchol , like that of a
last pgting the race disappeare and the panel
soft) osed.

A yfew minutes later there were intermittent
sounds of fastening up, on the lower floor—bolts
were shoved, keys turned, and windows barred. and
doors made fast—and shortly afterward a Wild,
raggedand stran e was skun- ng along the
ol shell road wit sw ging arms an strident steps.
Steps that sometimes faltered from weakness, et
hurrying toward the city as it Danger and Dent —
and not moonlight and slumber—were brooding
over all left behind.

 

CHAPTER XXVIH.
wnxns mm.
1'! was an hour past midnight and Mr. Bookout ,

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

nod into darkness, the great moon began to ‘

, on};
In

‘ hment; and no wonder;‘

    

was sleeping the sleep of an honest man, it its
(lrcainless soundness could be deemed such an attri-
bute, when there came a rousing pcal at his bell that
startled him at once into wakenmg activity.

; It was an unusual and indeed, an extraordinary
occurrence for him to be summoned from his slum-
bers at night, and‘ho would have been surprised
the-rent on any other occasion. but he was not spe-
cinlly so on this. ,

He accordingly hurried on his dressing—gown and
sli upers, descended the stairs, and answered the bell.

6n 0 oning the door he saw a oliceman, whom
he slig tl knew, who held by t e arm, more in
support - an in detention, it would seem, a weak
and ragged object that was gasping for breath, that
he instantly recognized.

“ I be our ardon," said the officer, touching
his cup, ‘ or dis urbing on at this late hour; but
this creature here woul have it. He was comin
in sus iiciously on my beat with no good account 0
himself, and the captain was a mind to lock him up,
but he mentioned your name and plead so hard to
be let come to see you, saying that he had some-

‘ thing important to communicate, that the captain,

,asa favor to you, sir, thought I might venture to
bring him.” . _ '

Mr. Bookout, w.th his glance full upon the man,
while the policeman was s eaking, saw something
in his expression that led im to say. “You have
donjelwell, Mr. Yates—Yates, I think your name is?“

“ es. sir.”

“I will take charge of him for the nigh .".con-
tine,an Mr. Bookout-

“ Thank you, sir, and good-night."

The officer disangeared and the man Wilkes, for
it was he, pressed orward into the hall.

_“ 9'11, Mr. Bookout,” he exclaimed. “The—tho

“I thought so," said Mr. Bookout, sententiously.
“Come up.” '

He hurried his visitor up-stalrs, and with him

seated in a chair and the door locked, heard what he
had to tell.
_ It was the stery of Iola as he had left her, asleep
in the old Dutch Governor‘s room in The House on
the Marsh, and included also on account of the in-
terwew which he had overheard between her and
Douglass Owen.

“The infernal miscreantl" exclaimed Mr. Book-
out rising iu wrath. “ I had be u to be suspicious
of him but could never have bchcved him an able of
such a knavish icce of work as this. on say,
after Owen left t ehouse, you secured ever win-

, dow, locked eve door and rought the outsi a key

I With ou?”hea ed.

, “ iver one " was the response. “ It would be

‘ impossib e to break in there now, long as it has been

, left disused and unfastened. The shutters and door
are of 981:. She is safe till I get back—quite safe!“

! “Until you get back?” re eated the lawyer. “1
Sea But don t go yet. ilkes, for once our

, failure to keep'your promise has been of great en-
etit and I forgive you for all. Hereafter your con-
dition must be improved."

“Ve good. sir, butI shall need nothing much
Ion er, am all going topieces.“

i ‘ .ut what‘s the matter with you man? You are
shaking all over. Is it the chills? here, let me give
you somethm warming.”

. He produce a bottle and turning out half a glass
of brandy he ordered him to take it forthwith.

i The poor creature would have refused. but he

‘ w3:: ::  N and flushed toward him some-

to eat. which he too from a closet.

‘ tore that away,“ he said, “and it will bolster

on up. You are breaking down for want of nour-

_ and he began to rapidly
dress himself as he spoke.

“ Here, curl up on that,"as he handed him a. hea
blanket shawl. “ I am going out. Remain here’ '
I return, and I will see what can be done."

He finished dressinz. throw on a light overcoat:

   

 

28

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

     

 

and went out, closing the door behind him. descend-
in the stairs and letti himself into the street.

fie went dir to ed Alpine’s hotel and to his
rooms. He foun the young man absent, and sat
down and wrote a note te ing him that Iola was
found, and to come to him at once. This he left
where it would meet his eyes or; entering.

He then returned to his oillcc where he found the
man, Wilkes, so quiet and still that at first he
thought him asleep, but immediately discovered
the contrary, for he mused u .

“I could not sleep,“ he sai , as if he divined what
was passing in the awyer's mind. “ But I am feel-
ing stronger, thanks to the warmth and brandy,
and fully able to do what I have to do."

He struggled to his feet and after one or two
weak attempts succeeded in standing upright.
“You are strong enon h to go back?" asked the

or doubtfully cons ting his watch.

'1‘ e man nodde .

“It is alread three o‘clock," continued Mr. Book-
ou ,” andI m ght o with you, but must wait for
young Mr. Alpine, or whom I have left word, and
who may come in at any moment. If our teehngs
for the child induce your going, I shal not attempt
to dissuade you. Keep the shawl,” he added, as the
man was about to throw it oil. “ You will need it;
and here, take some money. You will have no
trouble from the police, possibly; but I had better
give you a card to the eftcct that you are in my ser-
vice, which you can show on emergency, How wrll
you'get there?” .

“ I can hire a boat to take me down the Kill von
Kull to a. point I know of, from which the distance
on foot Will be easy]." ’

"Very well. I s all probably be down by the first
train,” and with a. few additional remarks of insuffi-
cient importance to be noted herein, he saw him de-

la

7..
pair. Bookout returned to his inner ofl‘ice, stirred up
the softcoal fire in the grate, for the outsxde a1r was
raw, and sat down to wait for the arrival of N ed.
But at half-past three in the morning men of Sixty,
whose slumbers have been disturbed, feel the physx-
cal demand for sleep somewhat stronger than the
desire to keep awake, unless the necessity is press-

in .

ft was not strange, then, that in his _eas ~chair be-
fore the comforta is fire the lawyer in t e medita-
tive stillness that succeeded, should have fallen into
a. doze; or that at last his dozmg should have culmi-
nated in sound sleep. .

It was broad daylight when With a sudden start,
Mr. Bookout awoke and found the fire dead on. the
hearth and the sun streaming in through the chinks
of the closed shutters.

There was an ancient clock of the last century
ticking away in the corner, and a glance at its face
showed the startled lawyer that it was seven.

Determined to see Ned immediately. he was in the
act of locking the door on his wa out, when the
sound of feet on the staircase an voices induced
him to pause.

A moment more and Ned Alpine came rushing up

three satggs at a time in great excitement.
"Th heave ” he cried, “that I was not too
late to find youi t us in—let us in.”

 

CHAPTER XXIX.
moan sncasrs THAN ONE.

Wmon'r waiting for the lawyer to lead the way,
Ned Alpine pushe
back intothe room.

He was followed by a woman closely veiled, whose
form and figure the old lawyer at once recognized.

“ fl" questioned Mr. Bookout, “what is madame
do ere?"-

“ ebrou htm W nded the woman 1 i
s 6. “rams dryy.

with her French aoce
She pointed to Ned/

ong upon her.

“ He!” cried Bookout, “ he—your husband?”
The woman laughed. shrilly.

" Yes, and no," she said. " He brought me, but he
is not my husband. 1 never had any usband—nor
do I want one.” /

“What riddle is this?" exclaimed the old man
stair-nix, as he looked from one to the other. “ Ex-

11

“It means,” said the woman, before Ned could
speak—“it means that monsieur, the lawyer, has
been imposed upon; that I was never that man’s
wife though I was his wife’s sister."

{And she,”.exclaimed the lawyer—“ where is she?"

“Dead,” cried Ned, “ more than eight ears ago,
as I supposed. The rumor was true, an this wo-

n. her sister, accidentally discovered by Owen,
was sent to you by him to repeat the little story
which he 'put in her mouth."

” I see, said the lawyer “an impostori False
gretenses, madame l— And he, a cowardly hound—

ut deeper than I thought. You got my letter, Ned,
at the hotel?"

“ Yes, yes. But not until this moment. She was
safe, you said—all safe! This business ”—referring
to the woman—“detained me. I was watching for
Owen at his office, and was startled b this woman’s
appearance-so like in figure and w : but the mo-
ment 1 saw her face the imposition was at an end. She
was prompt to acknowledge her share in the scheme
and make amends by coming to see you.”

" Monsieur Alpine must not forget his promise.”

“ And what was that?” questioned the la er.

“Immunity from punishment,” re lied Ne .

“ Very good: but we may as wel have her ac-
knowledgment in black and white,” and he dashed
air a. few lines. “Sign that, madame, and go your
way. It confesses your dupllicity, and states of
your own knowledge the deat of the woman, eight
years ago, who was married to Edward Alpine."

She signed it as directed, and the lawyer duly at-
tested the signature. ,

“ Madame is at liberty to go,” said Alpine, open-
ing the door for her, and, without a backward
glance or any other acknowreogment, they were

eft alone.

“And now," cried Ned, as he clasped the lawyer‘s
hand, “ I have inclosed your letter in a line I sent to
father, stating these facts, which will place him at
his ease and at us to the rescue at oncei”

“ Hold!" cried a cheerful voice at the door. “ The
rescue of whom?” and turning with a start at the
sudden intrusion, they saw one whom they least ex-
pected—Mr. Seacroft. .

He was cordial] welcomed, and in a tew brief
words informed o the situation.

His eyes sparkled with interest, and with all his
boyish manner strong upon him, he said:

‘ At the old House on the Marsh. eh? It seems to
me as it {ought to make one of your rescuing party.

Canvlygo?
“ y not?” demanded both in a breath—“it you
are ready.” ,/ '

‘l I am."

They all came out of the office together.

They crossed the ferry and were just in time to
catch a train.

The run by rail was swift and brief.

They had very nearly reached their destination
when they were rough to a stand-still by encoun-
tering an emptg' gravel-train with a caboose at- v
tacked, which, t rough the agen of a. laced

 

past him, almost dragging him 1

      

switch, had collided near a. junct on with a oaded
» car and had been partly thrown from the hack.

ed s rung out to learn the cause of the deten-
tion an went forward. In a minute he was back
again at Mr. Bookout's side with an ominous pallor

'l on his face. .
“Come out here, Mr. Bookout, please," he said,
no—it will shock you.”

‘ hoarse “But,
can shock me that I ought to know,"

“Noging

~ said Mr. Bookout, stormy, with a dim foreboding of
what was commg, as he got out or the car and

f joined him.

l Ahttle group of men forward. mostly railway

 

 

 

 

THE WIFE’S SECRET.

-g

cm lo fell awa at his approach, and he looked ‘
. devgn {5815. dark 0b“ycct in their midst.

It was the dead body of Douglass (liven—mangled
and crushed, with its pallid death-white face. turned
upward, and its open eyes from which all hfe had

.vanished, star-in starkly toward the morning sun.

Mr. Bookout unted up the conductor. who ex-
plained that the youn man had boarded the train
at the station below an insisted on riding, saying liq
could not wait for the regular train. While he was
speakin the district coroner made his appearance
and to him the lawyer gave some instructions as to
the burial of the body, and the disposal of his ellects
—to ether with his own address. '

ile he had been speaking with the officmls Ned
had succeeded in getting a carriage, into which they
now got, and in a short time were whirling across
the worn shell road toward the old House on the

are .

Whatever fears they had entertained for the
safet of lola—if any—were at an end before they
had airly reached the old place, for one of the
iron-barred windows was open, and a figure which
they instantly recognized as that of the young girl,
was seen waving a scarf.

“Dear soul!" exclaimed Mr. Bookout, with more
emotion than Ned believed him capable of. "She
recognizes us,even at this distance. I think I had
better go first. Ned, to lay down the law regard-
ing our new status.” _

“ 0 so— do so," responded the young man, agita-
tedly. “ But bobrlef—oh be brief!"

They found the front door (3)5361}, at which Mr.
Bookout expressed no surprise, though he glanced
about him as if expect' to see some one.

“One minute will sumce, ’ responded the old
lawyer, as he rapidly ascended the oaken stair-

case.

The key had been left in the door, and in a mo-
ment more he was in the room receivmg a welcome
so warm from Iola that the most ardent lover
might have been excused for feeling envious.

His ex lanation was asbrief and satisfactory”
Ned coud have desired, and Mr. Bookout, with-
drawing step b step toward the door, suddenly
gave place to Ngd and disappeared, leavmg them
alone together.

How shall Idescrlbe that meeting between two
sundered hearts? Or why should I seek to do so?
The reader who has followed them through their
trials, and seen Young Love’s Peril, and the oys and
sorrows that have strengthened and pur ed their
affection, need not be told of the intense happiness--
the glad outpouring—of their joyful emotion. All
was explained and forgiven—

“ And their 5 mm rushed_together
At the tone ing of the hps."

A sudden exclamation and a heavy fall, followed
by hasty words from below, brought the lovers at
last toa remembrance that there were others who
had passing claims upon their attention.

They instantly hurried down.

The scene they saw was one for apainter's canvas.

Crouched in t e dark angle of the hallway, shaded
by the carved oak stair-case and ly concealed
by the tall form of the lawyer, t ey saw‘a dusky,
broken e which neither had ever seen before'
while con out the lawyer stood a medium-sized
old man With d head and florid face—also a
stranger to Iotla—but wholm the astonished filed,

rstanréga him sharpy,flnally recognize as
Mr Seacro

0n the floor tile; '9. luxuriant white wig which the
old man had en on: inremoving his hat—acci-
dentally it would seem. '

“Itishe,” explained the man crouching behind
Mr.Bookou “ not dead, thank heaven! Not dead,
Mr. Bookou l” be repeated. “0h, Great Father.
£02133]: theethat this crime isremoved from my

Thela erhadbeengazin fromonetotheother
withnll'thye astonishmentexgrefledonhistace that

93

r ...-

‘hls inscrutable features would permit. and a light
seemed to suddenly burst upon him. ’

“I seel" he exclaimed, addressing Mr. Seacroft.
“The mas uerade is over, in friend. i understand
now why t is ancient place as been neglected all
these years! You are—"

“Andrew Marl I” interru ted the boyish old gen-
tleman. “I am, I confess t, he who was supposed
to have been murdered eighteen years ago I"—picl:-
ing up his Wig and replacing it with his hat on his
head. “No, I am not dead. as that nephew and
others thought, but worth any number of my old
smuggling ancestors yet. But—but ‘ ’—-turning around
in uiring y “ where has he gone—that wretched

kes i" For the crouching figure behind Mr. Book-
out had disa peered. “Let us go out into the porch,
my friends continued the cheery old entlemau,
after he hm shaken hands all around an congratu-
lated Iola on her release. “Come out, and let me
explain, within the circle of a wedding-ring, why Idid
not die in those years so long ago, but went abroad
and left events to take their course."

“ Good,” said Mr. Bookout. referring to his watch.
“And the brevity you suggest will just suit us, for
we must hurry to catch the Lip-train.”

And thus speaking they moved outside.

CHAPTER XXX.
AT usr.

IT was three days later. The hour and the scene
the same as that which opened the story.

There was a small party assembled in the drawing-
room of the Al ine mansion, all of whom are‘person-
ally known to t e reader, and there was a quiet air
of expectancy visible on all. ‘

In truth it was Iola‘s wedding-day.

Seated at the piano, Miss Seacroft, who graced the
occasion, discourscd such liquid melody and music
as the old mansion had never before heard, and was
surrounded by the little group whose praises and.
admiration were only second to that they bestowed
on the bride-elect; and even Mrs. Cha .erone, who
was present, was heard to declare that, ‘ If me dear
C. was living ” he would surely approve it.

The arrival of the clergyman and his introduc-
tion in his clerical robed was the signal for the little
group to draw closer, and standing in the center of

e cheerfully-li~hted a artments and admirably
harmonizing wi ii the ghts and shadows of the
elegant surroundings, the young couple stood up to
be married. . _

It was the beautiful Episcopal service in its im-
pressive formula that gave the le al and clerical
sanction to that higher ceremonia which Divine
Law had im lanted in both their hearts and the
currents of t eir two young lives were quichl joined
in one sweetly flowing river that should ow on,
flow on, forever. .

Mr. Bookout grew very grave as the evemng wore
away and there was an expression of deep concern
in his eyes as he glanced in the direction of Mrs.
Alpine. He had sti‘iven, as occasion served, to drew
her from behind the deep mask of melancholy and
reserve that had for the last three or four days—oi
since her alarming attack of syncope at his office—-
been growing upon her. ,

But in vain. -

A veil of impenetrable sadness appeared to have
slowly descended upon her spirits. Though main-
taining in a degree her customary admire _le equi-
pose, he had seen with alarm what Mr. Alpine had
not—that there was a failure of the usual elasticity
of nerve and felicity of expressiiou. > ’

The lawyer lanced about for m. Alpine who was
busily e age with Mr. ft in eager conversa-
tion, an , with an. apology for the interruption
drew Mr. Alpine aside for a moment, and’ suggested
that Mrs. Alpine should consult a physician .

" I understand ” said Mr. Alpine, ‘ and will act ,on
the suggestion at the first 0 poxtunig. I have ob-
served arestlessncss since t t a. , and had. -
deed mentioned the need of her tam advice.

 

 

 

So

'i HE WIFJ'S SECRET.

 

must urge it. But, come into the libra. ; I have
been talking with Seacroft, and a mnrv ous story
he has been telling me.”

“ An explanation I suppose of our accidental dis-
covery the other day,” said the lawyer, turniifi‘to
Mr. Seacroft, who now joined them as they w 'ed
toward the library.

“Yes,” responded that
facts are sim 1e enough,"
seated themse
Seacroft.

“ You have heard the story of how I was stricken
down at a. time when I was philosophically trying to
carry out some reformatory ideas? (to which, by the
way I may say in parenthesis I still hold fast.) My
injuries were serious, and un er most circumstances
would have been fatal; but I had a faithful fol-
lower in the father of the boy yonder, who secretly
aided my departure from tiie country, and I reached
England, where the little girl I had adopted was
then at school; There I learned that I had fallen
heir to certain old estates originally belonging to
one Seacroft. This property was left to me on con-

dition that I would t enceforth assume the name of

Edward Seacroft. I took the necessary steps and

the name became legally mine, and," continued the

boyish old gentleman, his face gleaming like a ris-

ing sunas he lifted his luxuriant white wi and ex-
sechhis bald head—“I represent lawf y either
me.

Whilehewas speaking Mr. Al ine had risen and
produced his family record in w ich he had copied
the paper furnished by the lawyer, which he had
obtained through the man Wilkes from the House on
the Marsh

“ This, then, explains the mystery of our name;
but how about Grace "—and he looked a the young

ntleman. “ Yet the
e continued, as they
ves, and were presently joined by Miss

y.

A tender light came into the old gentleman’s eyes
as his glance also reverted to her.

“My darling!” he cried. “It is to her I owe my
present existence, for she has taught me there was
something in life worth living for; and though, my
friends, s e is not my kin, I love her as if she repre-
sented the aflections of whole generations of them,”
and he clasped her hand in his. “I have told the
story of the girl-baby I found drifting out to sea. It
seems unnecessary to say, then, that this is she, or
that I should have named her Grace Seacroft in re‘
membrance of that other Grace who, the record
an s married Sir JamesAlpine." ‘

‘ real romance," exclaimed Mr. Alpine. “And
one possessinglmore interest to me, I am free to ad-
mit than an have ever heard or read." '

“’If I had on less busy in my professional life,’
said. Miss Seacroft, “ or had I been less hafipy with
my dear grandfather, as I shall ever call in, who
has also been father and brother to me in his love
and tenderness, I should have been troubled to
know who were in ancestors. And I confess there
have been times w en”— and here a dewy softness
stole into her eyes—“ I have had a longing to know
who was my mother; and whether the agony of my
lossin that strange, wild way had ever any corre-
s ending compensation to her bereaved heart.

ut, as it is, I have not been unhappy!” and she set
the seal to her words on the old man‘s brow with a
fervent kiss.

Mr. Bookout hearing these words—not without a.
faint expression of remote concern upon his insom-
table features, caressing his chin with one hand,
after his manner—looked for a moment as if he
could have drawn from his vast store-house of
secrecy some hidden knowled that mi ht have
solved the mystery of which t e girl h spoken,
and for a moment, indeed, he seemed about to
speak. But the expression and the Impulse passed
away, and for the time he was silent.

The appsgach of the joyful Ned dwglth the happy

e.

bride at t juncture Widened the
“ pear father,” she exclaimed, graiplinggnekof Mr.
. 00 on ‘s.

Alpme’s hands, and another of

 

“ perhaps Mr. Seacroft can ex lain about one of the
panel pictures in that quaint o d room at 'l‘he House
on the Marsh? Edward has been talking to me
about it"—- witha. lance and a blush, as she men-
tioned the name 0 the fortunate young man. “He

; insists that it is a perfect likeness of me with the
I exception of the fanc costume, and I wis to know

how such a thing con d happen, when it was painted
so long ago as he says." .

“Merely a family portrait and a resemblance, '
said Mr. Seacroft, before Mr. Alpine could reply.
“ She was undoubtedly a remote ancestor of yours."

The ringing of the supgevr bellat this moment, and
Eric appearance of Mrs. igsmith broke up the con-

ei'ence.

In honor of the occasion the repast was prolonged
much he ond the usual hour, the only drawback
to their ppiness being the absence of Mrs. A1-

me.

Mr. Bookout, learning that she had excused her-
self with the lea of a severe headache, beganto
grow secret] a armed, remembering as he did the
symptoms 0 failin , and flagging energies he had
noticed. His know edge too—shared by no one re-
sent—of the great secret that was burdenhig or
mind, gave him keen apprehenswn, and as the
hours were awa he grew more and more uneasy.

Mr. and Miss beacroft and their party had one.
and the household, with the exception .of Mr. E e
who haad lingered in the library over his record,
retire

 

CHAPTER XXXI.
ma LAST MILE-STONE.

MR. Booxov'r had withdrawn to the room set apart
for him at the mansion; but he had no desire for
sleep, and did not eVen remove his clothes, but sat
down in a chair—not in a restful attitude, as one
who seeks his ease—but with hands 11 on his knees.
leaning forward with head erect an senses alert,
as if anticipating some sound. .

A full hour he sat thus; when the ineyitable—which
he could not retard and yet for which he had not
consciously waited—burst upon him.

Mr. Alpine—pale, disordered and in partial undress
—sudden_ly appeared, a startling apEaritiou, at the
door. His li-ps moving, his hands 5 aking. and an
open letter in his grasp.

“Mr. Bookout was on his feet in an instant with
one arm around his waist while his disengaged hand
closed the door.

He did not even ask what it was that had ha.
polled. The convulsed appearance of his visitorto d

he worst. ‘

“Dead,” he asserted under his breath while his
stron frame grew rigid' and as Mr. Alpine sunk
half— ainting into a. chair, he opened the door, lided
down the hall to where another ajar. and the ghts
streaming out1 showed Mrs. Alpine’s apartments,
and went swift y in.

She was sitting at an inlaid writin desk in a large
arm-chair, one side of her face in s adow, her long
beautiful hair rippling down around her, and her
fair white arms, one hand still grasping a. pen, hang-
ing idly at her side.

‘0 raise one hand quickly in his own, to feel for
the _ulse that had flown, and to strive to hear the
bee in of a heart whose work was done forever,
were t instant eflorts of the lawyer.

Gently he laid down the hand again, as he might
have done that of a tired infant weaned out With-
plzliy, and softl withdrew. ,

e return . at once to his chamber and found
Mr. Alpine still struggling against the weakness of

nature.

“Hopeless?” he breathed, as he scanned the law-
yer's face—“ho less?"

The voice of . Bookout was firm, but gently
modxulat’ed, as he responded:

I. 'es 7

Mr. Alpine still held the open letterin his grasp.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TEE WIFE’S SECRET. 81

 

and with one hand to hide his agitated face he held
the apt-r toward the lawyer.

“fiend it," he gas ed, lioarscly—“read it.”

Not as one who earns new tidings, but as one
who sees confirmed something already known, Mr.
Bookout obeyed.

It was as follows:

“My Dani HUSBAND: I call you such for the last
time, for this is our last parting. When you shall
have read this confession on will see that all is over
between us. Do upt score 1 me out, for your future
can have nothin in common with mine. With the
knowledge whic must come to you a fathomless

gulf yawns between. Yet never were you dearer to ‘

me than at this moment, and never in the hereafter
ihall acknow that peace which your dear love has
roug .
“ I am the Wife of anotherl How I was married,
and when, is of no im ortance here, or why my life
was one long period 0 suffering and drunken abuse;

it is enough to know that I suffered all thatawoman ‘

can suffer and live, before I fled from the wretched
place that I had called home.

f‘ There are faults that can be borne, and excuses
might be made for this. but there remains worse to
be told.
at once, and erhaps would not atoll had circum-
stances been ess inexorable.

You recall the summer of your absence in Europe
and the new companion of your invalid wife that
greeted you on your return, You heard the story
of her reSidence on the sea-coast and you heard the
story told at Mr. Bookout‘s o co, of a girl-baby
that was swept out to sea. That child—thus lost by
the overturning of the summer-house was oursi

The one that lies in Greenwood, whom you ondly .
believed yours, was mine. substituted, unknown to ‘

the mother, to take the place of the one that‘waa
lost. You Will understand now the likeness which
you noticed between Grace Seacrott and your late
wife.

“ oh, no .husband, you can never know the strug-
gle and istress of that bitter period; nor the an-
guish that the duplicity of my false position entailed
u on me.

“ For more than five years thereafter, the burden
of my wretched husband was borne in silence, until
at length, weary of it all, I deserted him forever,
with a girl-baby in my arms. I had clu to him
until he had become an outlaw by the mur er of his
uncle, when, driven to desperation, I gave away the
child subsequently losmg all trace of it.

“ hen, ignorant of all these facts, you lifted me
from thedepths of despair to the haven of rest and
tranquillity, making me your wife, I could not dis-
turb the past by permitting it to break in upon your

mpfnmess.
‘ later ears, when ‘Mr. Bookout brought us
Iola, as a we f be had discovered, and you, with
your rent heart was so prom t to suggest her adop-
tion—fine little know how 'quic to recognize her own
is a. mother’s love. Iola is my child; a fact that may
or may not have been known to Mr. Bookout. How
she was found by him, or in what manner an over-
ruling Providence gave her again to in arms, I
know no more than you. It is enou h to now that
it was the only addition that could
great happiness all undeserved as it was.

“ But we must part. The ghost of that dreadful

est has risen again to torment me. My former
husband still lives, and the sins of concealment are
crushing me down. Farewell, and in the new lives
cf our innocent children, in_ their new happiness,
may you be doubly blast. Time and weakness pre-

THE

I deserted my children, yet not wholly or 1

made to my 3

r
vent in saying all I could wish, for I must prepare
for flig t and—"

As Mr. hookout read, the figure or Mr. Alpine'had
gradually sunk lower and lower in his seat, until he
seemed almost awreck, with hisgreat heart crushed
and broken.

The lawyer took his hand,.whicli he clutched as a
drownin man might cling to arope thrown to save
him an rall ing all his force of will he sat upright.

“ liookout, ’ he said, “let the dead past bury its
dead! Whatever she has done, she has made
amends for all, God bless her."

“ Amen,” said Mr. Bookout, solemnly.

Without a word the lawyer turned to the gas-jet.
and touched the corner of the paper to the flame.

It sprung slowly up and ran, a itlle margin of tire
across the page—Mr. Bookout still holding it be-
tween them—while the two watched it slowly con-
Bugle until the last fragment fluttered to the floor in
as es. .

Not until then did the lawyer release his grasp of
Mr. Alpine‘s hand. r

Thenceforth the secret was their own.

 

The sad and sudden death of Mrs. Alpine follow-
, lng so quickly the he. py event of the young peo-
‘ le’s marriage, create an unusual sensation in the

gushionable world, and after the funeral was Well
over, Ned Alpine and his young bride went abroad.

Mr. Bookout sold his practice to younger lawyers,
and joinin Mr. Alpine they spent their leisure .in
local trove , gettin a better knowledge of the in-
terior resources 0 the country, and in some degree
aiding in their develo ment. .

Grace Seacroft and er grandfather, haying learned
enough from Mr. Alpine of the story of the past to
substantiate the claim made upon her as the dough-
ter of Mr. Alpine, and the sister of Ned, went to re-
side in the Alpine mansion in the intervals of her
musical engagements—no lon er wondering that
she had felt so drawn toward ed at the time she at
first met him. . .

The mone found on Owen. With the accom any-
lng pa ers, 'sclosed the forgery by which i had
been 0 tained and it was dul returned to Mr Alpine.

The men sent down by r. Seacrolt to ccmplete
the re 'rs on the old House on the Marsh, found in
one o the long lonely. lower rooms, a miserable
apology for a be amid the rags and debris of which
la the wretched hugh Wilkes dead.

6 was promptly buried by in. Seacroft.

The house however, was never occupied, but took
tire before the workmen completed their labors and
was burned to the. ground. The only re ret ox-

ressed for the acc1dent was that of r. beacroft,

or the loss of the panel portrait that looked like
1918., mingled, it must be said, with some satisfac-
tion that that of his smuggling ancestor had shared
the same fate. .

Ned and Iola. remained abroad one year en oying
such hep iness in each other’s society as true earth
on] can ow, and when they returned to take up
the rresidence in the Alpine manswn they brought
With them— ‘
i “Love's blessed gift,

'ch her young arms could hardly lift "—

‘ an immortal baby l—Tbe most perfect and charming
i ever seen—so it was declared—with hair and eyes
just like its mother’s, and nose and Willfulness ex-
clusively its father's. With which admission in be-
half of the superiority of womanly attributes, the
‘ author bids his readers a. cordial adieu.
/

 

END.

 

 

 

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