'l'lw ( rrmn ul Ann-rival: und I’un-Igu Nun-Ix lur I'h'c (enln! . ‘15}; < 2:: {gawk ‘ ° ‘fiéwt‘ffiiifzfi‘fif .E .22 "5° " Ye". Em???“ 3‘ "m "0“ "We 3‘ NPW York. N. Y.. at second Class Mail Rates. Copyrighted 1n m2 by Bum; AK!) Anna. June 20. 1882. No.136. VOL. VI. PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, 98 WILLIAM ST., N. Y. PRICE, 5 CENTS 1441211) ('/5’() It, . W ' i ‘ ’ W a S I, \' APTHOR or "Cz W W "-611 41/7345. JV! A k " ""”' "ASKED BRIDE." "His 1001.." BTU. J / ~~ T: :3 :3 w.» t»: ‘r- "u. o .» ,. I ‘ v \ U, Q \ l HM. " I'F‘\\'AHE, (:ERVAISE mt LALRuN. now You ACCL‘hE ME my bALSlinunxf 14LM}.MJEL \VHH I AM‘" 2 as“; -._. Was She, His Wife ?‘ “ween New York and the busy, Paterson , New Jersey, 9. i - conspi ous tetrave era on the - ‘ for it; uty‘ awed "isolation , ,no less thanitl .gancaot delign _ A' the peoallu-ly romantic appears , , x 0 line of the railroad, and perhaps ten " ., w that leng from which rude wooden I A. stretchesan imtncnse park, tra- - -. x drives, tree-shaded, promen- ades, n, sunny lawns. . A lake, 0 circular orm and rather diminutive size, adorns the center of the park, from which narrow walks diverge toward the railroad—the carriage entrance—where a large iron gate we hospitany n, and a tiny porter's 10d 0 ad to the style 0 the grounds; and the dwe - in itself—Chetwynd Chase. tthe first glance bestowed upon the fair y granite pillars and towers of far-famed (Elit- wynd Chase, even the most superficial observer is impressed with the min led beauty and weird- ness, fairy grace, and som r aspect of its exter- nal appearance. Standing upon a slight eminence, with a dense gmvmfef a background, its tall turrets rearing above the highest tree-to with the sloping ass-grown banks of the assaic river stretch- ing from the high flight of ' -guarded steps down to the very brink of t 9 river, that at that . t widens and curves into unusual beauty. Lhetwynd Chase is exceedingly fair to look up on, even while among its own admirers it has won the name of the ‘ Mysterious.” And there was a mystery, a doc and unfr thomable mystery, that for more t an two (‘0! turies defied investigation, thatin later da s—w our own times—deepened from a mystery a. fearful curse; an anathema on one of the house of Chetwyiid that was well calculated to cast dnfimlgt loom on the fgmily. b0 ut e etwymiso ‘ etwyn hase,w had come to 0141.,En nd, with William 'the Conqueror, and lived n almost royalty in their old baronial castle in Gloucestershire, and whom“ younger son, Rexton Chetwynd, had come 130‘ America twenty years before the present time-— for our story is one of to-day, in a year we hm lately seen (1865)—had ever borne with them, wherever theylived, the same strung mystery, that ever invated their homes wi its sepul- Bexfian CW who had taken for his home this grand _ place, and christened it in ' true old 10, was one of these fine, courtly ge _ o arenth h hiith, edu- cation and lacuna omto fill the ghost posi- tions of hon and trust. He was mmarkablg handsome—but the Chetwynds were a spl race—peerless beauty being one of the clam sworn tomlnhthat old};1 old ofbgboutwiizg average _ r pOSSI y a a ve, erect, hearing, bright, inbnse a? a" jettiest over which hung t ushy‘ eyebrows at purest white, that ma and mauivan'es his hair and military beard. . Suchst Berton Che d in his fifty-sag- enth year. The family at etwynd Chase Wu not large, exclusive of the corps of servants. ‘ ' ,a neon] , uie elderly lady who in hhrqires or days, and nowwas just as chmiiiizgmmannerandtem- perament as ever she been; a true wife, who believed her husband the most perfect man 0n all the earth, whose will was her rigid ‘ whose faintest exper desire was her grea pleasure to perform. She never p contradict him in the slightest ,matter- such a wild ido'a had never entered her. head ;. and, yielding her graceful, tender, dignified homage, she freely Ipersonated what we seldom see—n. true, in e wife; and perhaps more women would gladly follow her example, were the hue- bands to imitate Rexton Chetwynd in his chiv- alrous devotion and aflectionate solicitude for her welfare and ha piness. There was a nap ew traveling on the oonti-l neut now, a handsome high irited Eggno- manly man, with the Chetwyn ’ bold I. uty and hautaur, and winning tenderness of men. Rex Chetwynd was deeply attached to his 3' after HIS WIFE? was toinstantly admlro' telnow,to steadily love. Her charmdof mind were no less her graces of person, that were made up of a rare and beautiful co ' ling of style. _ In stature she was less than most girls heragfi—shewas nineteen. Hermie bluzliin'glm her father’s, had in them a sof , cai ikeness to r. Chetwynd her mother’s had been, ' meolor, with not a ripple Elliot , save at the ends, which curled in loose, 0 rings. Emotion was pale‘as marble, without the f , _, vestige of coloronhercheeks and vet therb was not a, suggestion of pallid sickness in that himny whiteness. Ell-hug. d all f scare ripean e ,mggesting mannero pretty similes—stra‘wl'iariu, gleaming ivy-ber- ries, cleft pomegranates. Blanche Chetwynd it was, this regal, peerless girl, on whom the curse would eseend ' to whom the mystery would be unraveled, which for two hundred ears had beenwrapt in densest gloom, and had .11 declared never to be ex— lained until the youngest son of the house of 'hetwynd could possess, in their youngest born, a daughter. ‘11 bl Here ,. a cult ild had invaria y ivbeen a h; Indxintm been h' fair Blanehe grow hp, lid. 11 tether- chfldren 'followm she €318.de that on him and his tg‘e cm would But Blanche was nineteen now and Mr. Chet- wil'nd had long since given 11 hoping for an— ot er son, whose birth Woul thus avert the cloud from Blanche’s head; and for years back he had been stealing himself for the blow he knew must come sooner or later; but of its ini- .port, or coming}, lie was perfectly ignorant. He only knew, as lanche herself knew, and all the ,Chetwynds, that, because from a. youngest daughter the blight had proceeded, so to a youngest duurrhter it must return. Iiexton Che wynd knew there was something awful about it; he had heard his grandfather tell about the “ Scarlet Room ” in the old baro— nial castle, where walls were encrimsoned with fiblood of young Lady Constanzia, whose pit- i sto ‘, w 050 tra '0 end, was well known to _ . ‘ He had eard of her host wander- ' the halls, and of a dar , malignant 'tace that followed the figure—that d Lenox, the seducer. the murderer If Constanzta. I been handed down, this weird legend, m r ither to son, with the accompan ing curse on th.» est daughter, who alone y a 'u- "liar sacrifl eculd wipe out the stain o the 6 Ch twynd hrirror. And lo Blanche, fair beauteous Blanche, hun- (1de ofiiiles from that old castle, in a land where legends and superstition go for what they are we was going on and on, to fight it out .10! Lady nstanzia I sake. CHAPTER II. nmm’s mm I! an of the most luxuriously-appointed apartment! of Chetwynd Chase, whose, high, om commanded “breaching views .m and meadows, a ly nng l was Sit— r ting,hertair, round arms to ded on ’ hll'wondrousi splendid face set sternly ‘ ai'd lie sunset , whose vivid hues were reflected in deliciously faint tint on her bru- oollplemon. - ‘ N0 one'couid have avenues slightest rupee of Barbara rm, strangely- u iful face, without involuntarily-uttering an exclamation of s ’and admiration Itwuafacethatmgfested the th htof a piercing rift 0 light over a under- Oh storm-cloud, or a bright, dead-cold ‘m down over a yawning, black m A nt race, that exactly de- gicted the triumph of pride over despair; that . enoted a will strong enough to move moun- tains, Were they in her way. i The eyes were slumbrous, and generally veiled b the long thick thhffli--8yes that looked as Lester willed they shouldlook, that even Benton Chetwynd, Sn, found a match for 1aownsunt-llliright one: t t ermou was rec;no vary but archedliheaOnpl abOW; fullofwitzlllhn’ten- d 11:, Whl-gilfrlihylnge all: a 1m ,peu- «mm cloudiwdcmumsllong’. ' - chill, sunny afternoon In l (1 un butonhiso cousimthedar- $.21:de cm, his heart was set with strongest affection. .Blanche Chetwynd was a girl whom tease late October—Barbara Lester had excused her- re-ion that lessened greatly her . n Chetuynd year afta' ear .v not a window— ' l atflheopen r ,adgofreliefcamefrom 'lips,a taker not a I ms in 1r 3 :5} 5 j :3 door, and i=5 :5 a ‘ Th tith tired of A y ' to bah, Emmhp—ahmy he C 8 ma yeytzthmnmlbutngdlghes! is, enasudden,delighttul memorysounedto return to her. - “How ridiculous I am! as it, now, she or mortal woman. has it in her war to .win from me! Let them boast eir kindness to r Barbara Lester, the child who was left at heir door seventeen years ago; let them, I say, and ’d tell them _to their faces that Bar— bara Lester’s beauty Will balance their money, MIX dlly!” f tified tri g eam o um h ' ted here as as she lancedfickward intopthggtiler glass. y “ If lanche is pretty, I am handsome; if she is beautiful, I am more so. And to think she should dream. for a moment, that her childish airs and graces could wm Gervaise De Laurian from me." i: 80 7) gen 1 'm’ 'bliood rte ladsome ight to or eyes. 7” a 4 g “Gervaise, dearest one! ‘Détiny‘hafs been good to me in leading you me." ' Her musing, dreamy voice died aWay in a meditative murmur as she bowed her head still lower on her hand, gazing earnestly at a picture painted on porcelain thathung, by a silver hook, Made the window“ ’3'. . She removed it, and looked Melody at it. It was a face, a head, that would have-made any woman’s heart beat the quicker at the thou ht of being bel9ved by the original. Bo dl handsome, intelligent, refined, with a dash o imperiousness, pride and willfulncss in the finelyeut features. A blonde complexion shadowed by a heavy amber mustache; a pair of keen, almost fierce violet eyes; dark gold hair, tawny in hue, rare in its beauty that was brushed low over the forehead, and _o the 12m- ples in a style that plainly told the carelessness of t e wearer to its arrangement, as well as a proud consciousn of its extreme beeomin - 11:89:? Such was” soprgascinating ini mlln , 4mm 11 n which llairbara Ester hifllod sses. ' Then she replaced the picture on 1173 silver book, but not before removing from its frame a heavy, plain gold ring, tha shephcedonhar tiny finger- ‘ Blanche has nevu- aaen that, and little dreams she I am hitbetrothed bride. If she 32% 1 fin?" is...” m ““ “WM” no us an totouchhrhand." “an,” She had thrownablack lace shalom her shoulders while she . , tinty hat, on while mend than W . v , euym wedacpnyot thinkIwindo. Gervnisoroqu-tbdmfl“ m;h’is mtflthmighitinastung'eoelorfor fine glanced down atheremeraldgreansult defll’t means 'fonakmg’ in it women. [WW Then, smiling . looked at her watch. “Five o’clock IO local-and 1!th ' at the chapel ruins at fin” With a hurried glance at the ' swept across the what t then looked it m henmpe ’ Blanche mnbright curls windeown aboth fainr face, her blaek eyes full of p ass. - , “ Oil for a ramble, Barbara!" Barbara laughed as she hoisted her earn-sol. “To Pusaic, I think, if the road isnottoyg dusty. I may be late to dinner. bu“ 1"“ makem excuses!" “ y y. Buttheroilthecafl'hsfim N “Th-pin; mawmwmunddishtful “l’imnk' ummgm'w-x. Bab m,taip’:dmuuohnedmmnfw hair I minutes agn” \ The $1? of 231' induloet strains fro :meinao swtke at. w?! 1130 sad, {3 a at d met her at encumber. trash. WAS SHE HIS . WIFER, Barbara at the sweet, con. eciousfaoe,endthena ttlelookofsternre ' and you often meet. tmded as aprobetothe tinglysaw mg file; m onthegirl’s’ hot df'ace. m u mu: oora an a she went on, and Blanche retummly to r.hItehmemt lo walk,andin few ' tea was 11 a a mu Barbara reached’ifie ruins. True to his tryst, Gervaise De Ianrian await- ed her. With a glad smile, in which all her beauty seemed to concentrate imelf, she extend- ed her hands “Gervaise! I was fearful I had kept you waitin too long!” “ As forever were too long to wait for you, Barbara!” £215; dee' p-whis'pe' red words sent a flush to her q “ But, nevertheless I’m lad you’ve come; I am impatient, after all, for e treasure the next hour will give me. My darling, you do not de- sire to retract your promise? you are as Willing to r your vow as you Were when to-day I five on t t?” is gger touched the golden circlet on her hand an his proud, passionful eyes were look- ing on in her own. ‘ Retreat, Gervaise? Never! Rather do I desire to strenfigltilmi it by every bond I may.” He'smiled t bent and kissed her “ Come, then, my darling. Ever g is in readines; a short five minutes, we will be each other’s‘forever.” “ But, Blanche Chet d?" 7 For the life of her, arbara could not tell why she asked that. She never knew, until months after, Why it was that the words rose spontaneousl to her lips, forcing their own ut— teranceer , forasecond, thereu n'osc before her a sweet, girlish face, with love—lighted c 'es. For a moment Gervaise De Laurian look at her' then his eyes grow wrathful. “‘What has Blanche Chetvynd to do with me, or you?" ‘ ‘ Forgive me, Gervaise, they were idle words. ” It was wonderful, almost pitiful, to see how this roud, eagle—hearted ' lflung all her pride, a ’uteur at the 1feeli]: of er love; butt Barbara ters was no i t, pa; ' emo ion, t at scarce ruffled the t§de of It was a migh , mastercumnt, that bowed all her will to its ‘eadlong course. ‘ And Gervaise De Laurian knew this. He knew how entirely he was her master, and he was proud of his conquest, sothat now, when he listened to her loving voice and saw her beautiful, oeful girlishness, he smilcd down in her wist ul eyes. “ I will forgi’ye you. But I can not have you so She accepted hisarm, andto therthey walkedslowlytotheinner chamfir of the chi; ruins. “ ow, Barbara, in own, herewe beginto tread theeame life path. Here I shall solemnly swear to love you to the end. Barbs you will promiseito love me, care for me than your woman’s heart, forever and forever? His low, murmurous voice held her in a delicious as ‘cal. “FLmandever, aiae,tilldeathdom He kisedher,andledhsrthmughtheme- Handout CHAPTER III.- “rr am: am mwl” I! was a spacious place, with old, moth-eaten ‘ a floor where l ' P017 ‘5 Brass grew botween the interstices of; moldy stones. .At one} end, it was incloeed by a hedge of pines, at the other the Panic river flowed. Abova waved tree-to , a. low, tender music lin- gering in their branc es. An elderly ntleman, with pleasant blue eyes awaited t em. “ arbara, dear, this is a friend of mine from New York, who is empowered b the right of hisofliceto . Heisnotacergymnmbut yin: 1330 not 0;) to being married by a justice 0 peace Barbara didnot care. Why slumldshel was get mar marriage just as sacred Iolemnind us With luminous eyes he told. her lover so, and he turned to the gentleman "Mr. Om den, this is the lady of whom I spoke, Miss We are ready now.” Hand in hand, under the roofing of Nature’s Eternal Temple, with the grand forest aisles about them, and the music of the soft summer winds theirw ' ham, the ceremony was spoken; Gervaise urian had kissed his bride- the officiatinge gentleman hadgiparted. “ Gervaise Leurian, my ' 0! my own beautiful bride 1” He whispered the words in her eat as they turned to retrace their steps. A smile ogrrfect hap mess answered him. “ I am g1 it is over, bars. I have some- times feared of losing Eu. But new never.” Sthe laid her hahd on ' arm in a half-serious ' ure. “ Gervaise, I have but one request to make. You will grant the first your wife asks? Prom- ise yaou Will not flirt any more with—with—” “ lanche Chetwynd, you mean?” added be, seeing her hesitate. “ I can’t promise; as you know, Barbara, 3. man can’t help paying court to a pret girl like little olden-haired B anche, But, Bar can you t me? Remember, that as our marriage is to be kept secret—" Barbara uttered a cry. “Secret, Gervaise? Our marriage a secret? Oh I never dreamed of such a thing.” Her cheeks paled then glowed asshe spoke, while Gervaise De Ilaurian’s eyes grew threat emn . “ Barbara, you must let me dictate, and with- out questioning my motives. I want you to distinctly understand I desire our marriage to be a profound secret, until you have my per- mission to divulge it.’ , His imperious tones seemed strangely at va- riance with his impassioned manners. moment before, and as Barbara De Laurian searched earncstly his handsome, flushed face, and met the light in his willful eyes, she began to realize she had found her equal in her husband; that even as she loved, so must she obcy, in the strict- est meaning of the word. Even as Gervaise loved her, would be rule over her. While she had been sosteadily regarding him, her beautiful Ii 5 apart in the astonishment she had felt at his anguagf, he had abru >tl laid his lhand over her mout , half-saucily, -ten- dcr ’. “'i‘here, tiger-lily, do not gaze so reproach- fully at me. I mean to do what is best forus both, and the only course is to retain our secret, for a While at least. You’ll promise me, dear- est?’ There still lingered a despotism under his af- fectionate words; and what could Barbara do but consent? “ Gervaise, I promise." “ I knew you would. And now I want an- other promise. You asked me not to flirt with Blanche Chetwynd. It is a hard one to keep Barbara, for, though not so peerless as my royal bride, she is a sweet blossom, and it is far from my nature to pass such by." iarbara grew stately. “ But, Gervaise, you’ve no right to flirt again with any woman. You are my husband, and, as a married man, must not devote yourself to oung ladies’ society as you would have done an hour ago.” , Her earnest language burst from her eager lips as she laid her fair, warm hands on his arm. smil ; a quick, lightning-like glance of amusement. “ You may be right. Barbara, but don’t forget that only to each other are we married. Bu will you promise what I was about to ask never to think of Roy Davenal 7" A hot flush shot over her cheeks, as she im- petuously answered: “ Will you never have done with that old-time :ngfiagement? Gervaise, Roy and I were more ' dren then; we never think of such things now. You know I care for no living being but yoiim '"n: ' titled him d n or co essmngra an,” icy came up to the gate, in the gathering dusk, he kissed her. “ Go in now, my darling. Remember your promise.” He bowed, and she smiled her adieus, as she turned down the path to the house. Gervaise De Laurian paused and watched her as she walked along the narrow path, her green silken skirt rustlm against he grass, her flushed face outline against the gray sky. “ Beautiful temptressl she has mined herself and me too, I fear! If shebutknew‘, Vshebut knew, ever so v ely-l" Abitter smile keover hia‘handm face, and he turned away. _—.—— CEAPTERIV. rpsrnmz‘swn. “Baanaaa,”saidBlamhe ' 33$ an the pm,’ cheeks flushinghas she mt on, “do you know I am very muc afraid Pam wing myself to thinkagregadealotmer.De, _"_ 'nl" Barbara rted, t answ pleasantl : “ Mr. De Laurian is a who; few women could dislike.” ‘ She watched Blanche’s face w she spoke. \ “He certainly is handsome an ‘ ble; I i have heard my father sa the De ' were renowned for their court 'ness and beauty.” “Yes?” and Barbara’s eyes ed the in- terest she natural] experienc her hus- band’s relatives. er uiries and ate, though ngiven in a quiet, indifferent fierfiav' e .1 were 0 a mask to her eager anxie . “ And he De Laurians are wealthy too, Bar~ here. Not that moncy would influence the so far as Gervaise is concerned, but I think an girl would prefer a husband who possessed bot wealth and beaut .” Her cheeks flus ed dee r still as she poured out her sweet, girlish co dances. “ So you have already decided to marry Mr. De Lain'ian, it seems, Blanche 3" A half amused smile played on Barbara’s lips as she oke. Blanc elaughed. “ Did I say so? Although, Barbara.” and her eyes grew luminous with tenderness, while her voice mellowed to a low, confidth cadence, " I am not ashamed to admit that I love him already.” . She raised her eyes to Barbara’s, that were flushing darkly. “ You are not an that I’ve made you my confidant, Barbara! ou‘re not vexed at my unsolicited secret!” She spoke in deprecatin sweetness of man— ner, for a dark, angry cloufd had settled on Bar- bara’s proud face. “ No—not that you’ve honored me with our confidence; for that I thank on. But am sorry goo are so girlish, so chi] ish as to believe the at ntions of every gentleman you meet are honest. When you are older you will learn that flirtatious are more amusing than lasting. Be- sides, Blanche, there is another rennin.” Her voice grew tender as she saw the pained look in Blanche’s e es. “ A reason why shouldn’t like Gervaise De Laurian, Barbara?” She asked the question in amazement. “ Not for your simply ‘liking’ him, Blanche. f course we can all like every one we see, whereas love, particularly such love as you bestow, is not to be frittered away on every one. “ But the reason, Barbara!” Her clear, questioning eyes were intently re— gardin Barbara‘s face; and the dark Cheeks glow under that innocent game, as she realized what the true reason was. But she returned Blanche‘s gaze firmly. “ It is a very simple one, Blanche, dear. Mr. De Laurian is a most e ’gious flirt, and boasts of his reputation as suite . Slowl the blushes faded of! Blanche’s face. “Bar ra, no! Gervaise has held my hand many a time; he has Whispered to me often; he has—even ——kissed me.” Like a molten surge the red tide returned as she leaned nearer Barbara to confide the pre- cious secret. . “ Kissed you} When?” Quickly. jealousl , came the words. “ I can’t say. I out know. All I remember is that I feel sure he cares for me; that I know I love him.” In Barbara’s face were traces of a conflict, bitterly severe. Should she not tell this trust— ing young girl the secret she herself despised, and that, while it was heavily binding her down, was as surely building a fearful chasm over which Blanche must fall! She hesitated; the secret trembled on her lips; the words were ready to be uttered that should save them both from all the misery of their fu- ture lifetime. Then, like some foreshadowing cloud Me the memo ’ of her husband’s positive com— mands—am her love leveling all things before it, she decided to allow circumstances to mold themselves. _ It was a trifling decision, but mighty results depended thereon; and fate—and the Chetwynd sealed the wee of the two fair women. “.You have been very imprudent, Blanche- and now that I have placed you on your guard inst him, you are enabled to cease thinking 0 him in so tender a. manner.” " Cease lovin can. so long,r as Gervaise. Barbara I live i" 4 ' WAS, 33? .335. ,. 1 never I " . “ I do! I do! Gervaise, I love you 1” Her beautiful eyes told the secret her lips had “I cannot censure you, Blanche, for your de— i feared *0 M3010“- votion to him as propensities—as any woman would want. ” A smile that would have been mischievous, had her heart been less full, lighted Blanchc’a face as she looked at Barbara. “Perhaps you a wee whit jealous, Bar- bara: you are 815' warm in your admiration while you rep me for mine.” Barbara’s hang iest curl of lip preceded her a "SWOT. “As a Woman. I admire him; as a flirt, I i detest him.”- Her color "glee-penal, and her heart throbbed as she .% tame word “ admire." Adm re rvaise De Laurian! She his wife! She w her trailing skirts up in a handful of :2 owin rimson, and nodded a pleasant adieu o Blane e. “ I have letters to prepare for the next mail, Blanche. After dinner we will drive to Pater- son for some notions I want. ” the shady piazza she left Blanche, sittin beside the wind0w, where the snowy clemat was min its ful spray. On a ma ic e ir. her cheeks robbed of their flushes, her eyes full of a sad, wistful light, she leaned, her sun-bright head restin on her hand. A nick tread on the gravel walk aroused her rom her transient reverie. She caught a glimpse of a face and form that made her spring in sweet confusion from her reclining position. “ Blanche, no, do not rise. I can find m if assent. Sit still, and tell me if you are grill have come.” Gervaise De Laurian‘s dark eyes, all all ht with a dangerous fire, were readin her thong ts that were all too plainly mirro on her pink i-beeks, in her soft black eyes. “ Glad? I am always g ad to see you, Mr. De Laurian.” “ I shall not believe it if you persist in ad- dressing me so formally. My name is Gervaise, Blanche.” She cast down her eyes under his ardent gaze. " Gervaise. then,” s e repeated, almost under her breath, the varying tint on her cheeks pal, ing and lowing. “Tha ou, chen’e. Now, where are Mr_ and Mrs. C twynd, and Miss Barbara?” He drew his chair nearer as he asked the question. “ Mamma and papa are out driving with Rex and Barbara has gone to her room to attend to her correspondence." “ Leaving you all alone—with me, " he added, tenderly. She id not reply, for there seemed nothin to slay; but her heart was fluttering like a caged )m “ What do you su pose I came for, this mom- ing, chm-is?” p “ I can easily To Genevieve’ with rbara, or chess with Rex.” She smiled as she spoke, and looked up in his face as he leaned carelessly back in his chair; and a thrill quivered through her as she saw how handsome ho was. He did not smile a rep] ; his eyes were half ~ vailed by thcir long, 0 dn-brown lashes, under which he was intense y regarding her. . “ Neither the song nor the game induced me to drive down. I came purposely to see a cer- tain little herself in t e list of attrwtions.” Blanche lanced up; but only for a second. His face to more than his words. With a sudden gesture, he pushed the chair awry, and, extending both arms, went up to the gir . “ Can you not tell? do ou not know, my dar~ ling, why I have come? t was to hear on say, ' Gervaise, I love you? Will you say it, lanche, even as I so. to you, I love you?” He draw or head to his breast, and, with the lips that not a month before had greeted his bride, he kissed her pure mouth. “ Sa it, Blanche; say it quickly. You little know ow I am starvin for it.” He held his arms tig tly around her, while her hair streamed over his breast, and against G... 1.. p. ‘ aise, me . case, please ! You n-i bten me, indeed $.10!" “ Frig ten you, my da nty lad bird? Does my love alarm you, whom I woul woo as nt- vly as a dove does its mate? Blanche, per aps you don’t love me.” Then she clung closer to him. ractice ‘ Sweet ve a game of our ideal man: for I think myself he is as pe act—setting aside his flirting 'rl who is too modest to mention, i l i < l l I “ But not as I love you, my Blanche, my dar' I know you are mine, though, and we w engage ourselves, shall we l” He drew from his finger a solitaire diamond, too large for Blanche’s taper fingers. “ Never mind; you can wear it on your watch chain, and by that means he our betrothal secret better. You will not tel any one of it, for a time‘i” “ If such is your desire, Gervaise, I see no so rious objection in so doingalthough I prefer that my parents should acquainted with it ’7 She plead with her eyes, though her lips con- curred with his will. “ But I insist upon Miss Barbara’s being kept in perfect ignorance. I specially insist upon tho i.” “ That shall be exactly as you wish. Barbara shall never hear of our e ment until ou tell her. There, Gervaise, oes that satisfy on?” y She laid her warm fingers on his hair, while he lay back in ldnfly grace against the chair, receiving her nte caresses as naturally as though she been created for that especial purpose and no other. As she spoke, a smile of trium’phal pride and gratified delight spread over his ace. “That iromise, faithfully kept, is all I ask. darling, I am sure I see the Cbctwynd carriage entering the drive—yes, it is. Let me kiss you by, Blanche, darl and after lunch I w come for you and Miss rbara for a ride to the Falls, up at Paterson.” Hearose,andtookherinhisarms, andkissed her 'n and agam‘ . Then he laid one hand on her moulder, and stood gazing intently on her scarlet face. Neither beard footste or how of a pre- sence, till Barbara’s big , clear voice broke the delicious stillness. CHAPTER V. rnarxno wrrn ran. “WHAT does this mean? I pray to be in formed. Mr. De Laurian will wyou explainil Blanche Chetwynd, what did I you?” Blanche turned to hide her suffusedface, but Gervaise confronted her, his eyes flashing. " And permit me to infiuire what you have been telling Miss Chetwyn ?” There Was awful fury in his voice as he spoke, that betrayed the rage, the fear he felt lest Blanche knew all— at he was sure she never would have acted as 3 had, had she dreamed of the true state of affairs. “ I told her, sir, that you were too con- scienceless u. flirt to care, really, for her; if (you made a pretense of it even, it would on as other flirtatious have ended.” Her speech came fluently, and her eyes were steadily fixed on his. while her cheek grew pale as she spoke. . De Laurian’s lips parted in a relieved smile, and his eyes lost their steely litter. “Indeed, Miss Barbara! am everlastingly indebted to you for such a recommendation to Min Cbetwynd. However, I need hardly say, your words are destined to be proven false.” Barbara sprung to his side in a towering rage. “ Beware, Gervaise De Laurian, how you ac- cuse me of falsehoods! Remember who 1 am!” Her deep, warning tone made Blanche turn her head in quick surprise, but not uickly enough to see the uns ken threat in e Lau- rian‘s e es. or observe t e defiance in Barbara’s. She ooked inquiringly at Gervaise, who, with a profound bow to Barbara, laughed as- surineg to Blanche. “I certainly shall not to t who you are. A most beautiful woman, w om few men can see without loving; whom few women can know without envying.” His eyes, now turned so that Blanche mi ht not see his face were full of that li t at shone in them w on be murmured to his love assurances; and as Barbara blushed and smiled in the returning tide of confidence, she extended her hand. He took i and pressed it passionately; then raised it to s ll . All this instan neous tableau had been acted while Blanche had gone to the edge of the pi- azza to watch her parents alight. During that second, Gervaise and Barbara renewed their vows, and apparently fully comprehended each other. WUTEL » think (lervaise was a tint. and tryin “They have returned, and now that lunch is read , why not let us all sit down together? Mr. ¥)e Laurian, you surely will stay?” “ If you will romise to go With Mim Bar- bara and me to t 0 Falls.” Barbara’s face did not portray_the joy she felt at the )I‘OS t of a ride beside her hus— band, but in her eart she exulted, and secretly pitied Blégiiche thuit she, all uqconscions, was onl invi . to a y any suspic ons. Blanche. her cheeks flushed with delight gave an ameut, wondering if realtlg 8 1m- ; agine what she Would say when she heard that, wife 1 : Blanche came through the window toward ' them. in s ite of all her prophetic warnings, Gervaise De urian had actually proposed to her, and that the diamond on her watch-chain was the seal of their betrothal. . The lunch-bell rung, and, first greeting Chetwynd and his wife, shaking hands with Rex, De Launan msns'ted upon es- corting both 'rls to the breakfast Laughing and c tting, first to the dark— woman on his right, on whose finger be had laced the wedding-ring, and in whose ears be d spoken the sacred words. “my wife:” then to the golden-haired girl, whose maiden heart had passed forever out of her keeping into his unworthy hands; in whose eyes still dawned the love— ht awakened by his earnth tests- tions of a id election, Gervaise De went on, his rt beating high with wicked leasure as he cried in successful daring; as e thought of t see two peerlem women who acknow edged him their heart's soverei Lunch was comfortably over, when Chet w dcarriagewas drivenuptothedoor. rbara and Blanche hastened to change their dresses for others more suitable, and t was when alone ther that Barbara reproved Blanche for lack o confidence in her advice. “But he seems so good, Barbara, and, after all, why should I not receive his attentions as well as you?” Barbara did not tell her why, and a pang of pity for the girl shot through her heart. ‘ He does not flirt with me, Blanche. Be- sides—nothing. Will this dress do?" She had abruptly chan the to ic of con- versation, and took from t e wardro a mains— colored silk. “1 will wear it, at an rate, and my India shawl,” she said, then 'nking how her hus- band admired thedress and shawl. “ It is very becoming, Barbara,” said Blanche. “I shall wear my white cashmere and scarlet wrap.” And Blanche inwardl remembered her lover say she look like a “Simsetfairy in that heavy, richly dram, with the vivid glowing of the scarle to relieve it. Both dressmg for the one they loved best- each strivin to appear perfect in his eyes; and be, pacing t e piazza, With a fragrant cigar be- tween his lips, planning his afternoon’s work. First, he would acquaint Mr. Chetwynd with his engagement to Blanche. He ound the gentleman in the library' a few words of courteous interchange, and then he made known his errand. “ I have come to deliberately rob you of your choicest treasure—if, indeed, I have not already taken it. I love Blanche, Mr. Chet- wynd, and have told her so. She returns that love. May I have her?” A sudden graveness overspread the gentle— man‘s face. “Are you aware of the fate that hangs over her hoax l The (hose of Chetwynd Chase has been thering for years to break on my inno- cent anche’s head ’ De Laurian was impressed by the solemnity of Mr. \Chetwynd’s manner. “ I have heard of it, but I do not hesitate to say I can shield her from every harm. Whose armis stronger than a husband’s, or whose heart stouter? I want her, and despite the Curse she shall be mine if you give her to me.” “ You must give me time for an answer. You tell me you are sure you love my child? I have often found myself wondering about it, half concluding, at times, that you did- then your attentions to Barbara Lester woul becomeso marked, I decided you were trying to Win her.” “That is true, Mr. Chetwynd; but, remem- ber, I have been placed between two as lovel women as the sun shone on, and who, thi you could have acted differently! I have been analyzing my I ' , and have learned it a Blanche hetwynd I ve.” Very proud, imperious and strong hel standing there, in the full flush of a par-f manhood, plead his suit With a noble fervor that became a be r man: and courtly Mr. -, .. Limo...“ , . WAs__sHE HIS VZIEE? a -___M_V_fl__d_ _ 5 Chetw d, who had seen handSome men before, notic the kindling of his violet eyes, the mud curving of his lips, under the heavy am- Ber mustache, and did not wonder that Blanche loved him. _ Then be extended his hand cordially. " Mr. De Laurian, I tell you fra y I would rather you would have my da hter than any man I know. Will you brave this Curse for her sweet sake? will you take her with her dOWer of inherited vengeance? love her amid what- ever misery may arise, cherish her through any gulfs of trouble, even if you are sacrificed in trying to save her? I say "tr mg,” because she can not be saved from La y Constanzra’s Curse; it can not be averted by human hand, and the say fate will lead the youngest daugh— ter of t e house of Chetwynd to work out her own anguish with her own hands. I do.uot pretend to unravel this mystery, I only beheVe it as I believe I am a living, breathing man. I say. you will do so to her as you will call on your Maker to do to you?” _ De Lauriau bowed his handsome head in rev- erent assent. “I swear it, Mr. Chet d; and the Curse that lights on my darling’s cad shall first break its weight on mine.” . "Then I greet you my son, Gervarse, my 1’0 In I‘Ie grasped De Laurian’s hand, and they ex— chan a warm friend] greetirig. . An the while, Blanc e and arbara, up in their room, were wondering at the low current of conversation that came floating indistmctly to their ears, and then Mr. Che 'd’s voice, ‘clear and tin ' , sounded in the below. " Blanche! ' you step down a moment?" C ’ CHAPTER VI. rovn’s an): AND slxx. Sn turned almost abruptly away from Bar- bara, in whose hair she was twinin a spray of dwarf ink flowers, and down the stairs, ving Barbara alone at the mirror, wondering if Gervaise would find mmppor- tunity fora kissoracaress, oraw 'pered love word. Little recked she of the scene transpiring be- low, as Mr. Chetwynd closed the library door after Blanche. At a glance, Blanche comprehended the situa— tion, and her heart beat rapidly asher father led her to De Laurian. “ My lighter, this gentleman has asked for on in mamage. He loves on; you love him. give you, my only dau ter my youngest born daughter, with the awful erited (‘urse of Ch on your lish head, to term“ ifde 3” T’hthffi... h an misery, or e, He laid er hand in DeLaurian’s; herpure , in one so false. With unshed tears lying on her lashes, Mrs. Cheth had been a silent witness. touc B he’s forehead with her lips, then kissed Genuine. ' “Remember, my children, this must be sa- credly confidential. I have but the one mum to make, which I am sure will begran . I would request the engagement retained perfect- ly secret for several months, until Blanche has attained her twentieth birthday. Mr. Chetwynd remembers this to be the custom of our family, if they are betrothed before that age. Then we will announce it with all eclat. Even from Bars barn, my dear, I wish you to keep the newa. May I gepend on you to gratify me in this one r Chetwind smiled asshespoke, asif she thought it would be a ve senous thing for Blanche to withhold her l31-important secret from Barbara, with whom she was naturally so very intimate. De Laurian’s heart was fairly throbbing with e cessive exultation. What could have been tter than that Mrs. Chet d herself should have su the secrecv rom Barbara! He smiled at Blanche 'who gladly a eed to keep their vows from Barbaras know edge till the 32110ng June, when, on hair twen ethegiirth- ', both engagement an speed w ' wguld be announced. y mg Then she went-lowly u the stairs, her hands c over her heart still, if gamble its throbsofjo ,fearfullest her lltale ace ahStop ing attaie maeslwwixgh jaun . a” . ‘ ty-turbpan with a red cook’s feather; then went on t» Barbara. “ Are you ready, Blanche? I am, and wait- ing. Here’s your wrap. Is Mr. De Laurain waiting?” Blanche took the garment, with a low “ thank an ” and the two descended to the piazza, where urian awaited them. " Bring them back by dinner-time, Mr. De Laurian. ’ He promised Mrs. Chetwynd, and the car- riage rolled rapidly along the wide, graveled drive, and out upon the main road. It was a charming afternoon; and, the turn- pike once 'ued, De Laurian relaxed the strict reins on t e horses, and leaned against the cushions of the carriage. “ Is not the scenery fine in this delicious au— tumn haze?” It was Barbara’s voice that broke the silence that had intervened since they had left Cheta wynd Chase. “ Perfectly; and a most fitting time and place for me to entertain my Indy 7 cats.” “ As if we couldn’t entertain ourselves, Sir Conceitl” 8mgauche laughed, and Barbara relaxed into a P “ Doubtless you could, although, you will admit, the subject of edification would be gos— sip (grfashionfl’ “ a more con nialsub ct, perhaps—‘ love.” Barbara spoke 81: a low, ifitense vorce, glanc- ing at Gcrvaise. Iis eyes sent back an answerin light, and Blanche, fearful lest her incamatin‘ e cheeks should reveal her thoughts, looked industrioust through the window. “ It does seem strange that love is the only topic ever handled by poet artist, or author; that is love and its modifications, which are envy, jealous or reven . So far as I am con- cemed, thoug I am nei er painter, poet or ro mancer, I know love to be a most delightful ex- perience.” Blanche’s veil tumbled softly down over her face, and under its filmy folds Gervaise detect— legathe brightness of her eyes that she could not e. “ Then you have loved, Mr. De Lauriau?” Barbara thoqght how strangely the uestion sounded as it le her lips, and a smile o amuse- ment was in her 0 es as she thought how she and Gervaise m convene thus, under the semblance of indifference. Blanche would not mistrust how direct the a plication was of such commonplace remarks w ile thro them she and De Inurian con- veved their ove. “ ‘ Have I loved,’ you asked, Miss Barbara! I have: I do, most earnestly, most devotedly. I love with a fervor that never can be quenched till my heart be chilledebf' death.” His eyes were fiood with that dan verous siren lig t that made those two women’s earts throb so wildly. “ How is it with ou? You have questioned me, n0w let me elic t an answer from you.” “ Well,” returned Barbara, her voice coming low and thrilling, “ I love one who returns my affection aswarmlyas I can ask. I love him as no one else could. I will be true to the death.” She was nervously toying with the lace cover of her parasol, her eyes cast down, the long lashes vailing their light, and Gervaise De Lau- rian was watching her passionate face, triumph- ing that all that beauty was his. ‘ But, supposing he were false Barbara?” Gervaise s ke almost before he thought, and the 1133th lack e es were raised in a second. “ I woul not be eve him false. He is not, I know, but admitting the fact that he dare he— ah, I can not express what he would receive at my hands.” Gervaise laughed. “ No one co d be false to you, Miss Barbara. No one would. Depend upon this one whom you love, and trust him even as you say you do. ,He were less than man did he not worship you ’ A gleam of exquisite joy darted from her eyes as he spoke. Turning to Blanche, who had listened to it all, he laughhigfi' challenged her. “Come, iss Blanche, tell us if you are ac- quainted with this rosy god i” “ You are too personal. I am almost afraid to confem.” “ Then there is a confession? To reassure you, Miss Blanche, I am very confident there must be, somewhere on this wide hemisphere, some one who loves you truly lastingli.” The scarlet flowed in a quick tide to er face and she averted her head, withal so thankful for the delicate avowal he had made; but she strove to laugh it off. “ You must be a wizard, Mr. De Daurain.” “There, that reminds me. Why need we three insist on calling each other by such fool ishly formal titles! I any we allare each other’s best friend, and I pro from this mo— ment we be ‘Barbara,’ ‘ c ’ and ‘Ger- vaise ’ to each other.” . The girls were only too delghted. Blanche, that she dared to address him 30;:Bar that his strategy was so admirable, for her eart yearned to call his loved name again. Meanwhile, engrossed in pleasant conversa tion, they had traversed the distance between Chetwynd Chase and Passaic Falls, and as they slowly drove through the shalfly avenues, De Laurian still contrived that i should appear Eersonal to both, yet not arouse sue )icion in eit er. ‘ That reminds me, 1Barbara, oiéeyéoulrl‘aven» nce ouspoke of an our . t tn»:- 5?; just to the right of uaagfat extends the whole length of the rock? I can imagine you thrusting your unloyal lover down there, with your star e es above him, the last light the world shoul hold for him.” Blanche shivered. “ Gervaise don’t talk so.” And Barbara laughed. “ I might do more than that.” Gervaise laughed it off. He was so brilliant, so fascinating, and Barbara’s eyes grew dark» ly tender as they rode home in the gathering gloom, while his hand clasped hers under the protecting shawl, and he stooped, now and then. under pretext of arranging the aflghan, to whisper, in such a heart—stirring tone, “ My beautiful wife!” Silentl happy she nestled beside him, caring for naug t; kriowingnléis resence was her very life; his love, that g in his eyes, her more than life. On the other side, her scarlet wrapclinging closely around her white, face, her sun— bright hair streaming in e brisk west wind. Blanche was quietl sitting, with De Laurian’s arm around her 3 oulder, over the way he had murmured “my own,’ so many times that blissful afternoon. So they rode homeward, with the round yel- low harvest moon slowly coming up from be- hind a low-lying bank of clouds; with the tooth music of the Passaic comingtotheir ears Ing'hese two women, each bl Ger- vaise De Laurian for the love that he given her; each thankful that in the fullnessof that love, he made them so perpetually conscious of it, and yet preserved it a hidden treasure from the other. And Gervaise De Laurian himself, so hand— some and defiant, with a smile on his lip, that in its beauty and purity belied the laugh of hor- rible triumph in his heart, rode home between these two women, whose happiness he was delib- erately crushing, whose lives he was forever blasting. 1 Well was it for him that the lden light of the harvest moon did not lighten ' purposes as it did his faultlem face; as it had frozen the smile of serene happiness on the lip of his un- conscious victims as he hfted' them carefully from the carrm' ge, with a caress for both, as they ascended the steps of the piazza. Little did he dream thatthe Curse of Chet— w d Chase would culminate through his wick— edness, and that his own was the hand that would pour the vials of wrath on another head than his own. CHAPTER VII. rm: smnow on rm: ram. “ WE’VE company for you, Barbara, Blanche. It’s fortunate you’ve returned in such sea- son, my you, Barbara, for your 0 (1 friend and ' r is extremely anxious to see you.” “Toseeme? VVhocanit be! I havennsuch devoted cavalier.” Her glance wandered involuntarily to De Laurian, who with the light in his eyes she had learned to dread, was regarding her intently. M“W(l:i§etc:n§nig bl: ngw, I wonder ?” retorted rs. , ug ingl . “ Sure enou h, who is the gentleman whosg letters he in a cir- tain casket in Miss Barbara Lester’s room, all tied with blue i” A sudden conscious flushing of her cheeks, more than Mrs. Chetwynd’s words, aroused a demon in Gervaise De Laurian’s breast that re— quired more exercising than could easily be ex- erted. Blanche for the moment, wondered why her lover looked so darkly; then she dismissed the thought with a chiding to her owu heart for aJu ntagainsthim. AbriefsecondGen vaise looked sternly at Barbara : then with a gesture she rightly interpreted as jealousy. he his remarst = fit as? w 6 WAS SHE HIS WIFE? H: _ _ p. 7 . turned to Blaneneaau unnade attentiof. Eggs of yours, yet I alumsg happy to find you "named: Barbara Iester married in the ’s v ce broke e ressive ' m V own after - spring. mwm app 3 5 “‘ erill?” whatdoyoumean!” He ted thewordsinalow,hoametone, * Her eart beat quicker for the moment, and an.“ Blanche look at him in extreme sur- “You do not seem desirous of welcoming will summon him from the parlor Mr DaVe 1” than ’0 face was urposely averted. she felt the labs of rage hgcast on her, as, in answer to t _ summons, light, quick footsteps ap oached. . he door nod and Roy Davenal entered the library, ith a bow to the he went toBarbara who, wit wi (fly throh bing , as she tried to imagine the effect of this meeting on her husband, awaited his com~ you again ; and Blanche, how do I <1 you i” allHe extendedl a léantgl11 to each, bill}, after cordi- yc ing or re. 'efingers, et or remove them,lévaile be retained Barbara’s, and closed the remaining hand over her palm. His admiration was too sincere for coque , and as with elaborate liteness Gervaise e Laurian acknowledged t e introduction, he de- cided that Roy Davenal was in love with his e. He surveyed his rival from head to foot ; and as. he achiowledged what a fine-looking man g Rey Davenal was, he also concluded to flank It was a serious business this double affair of his; and if he unlimited boldness to attempt to carry it through he also an unmeasurable amount of jealousy that en- abled him to prevent Rey Davenal from court- ing his wife, or pinging attention to Blanche Chetw d evenw ' he must attend to both ' sujb roe-a. But, as to think was to act with Gervaise De Laurian, so while he critical- ly disposed of handsome Rey bavenal so did he ecide ugh the course he himself would pursue. First, was oing to let Roy Davenal su pose he was in ve with Blanche Chetw , which, of course, was partly true, but of w 'ch Barbara had not the vaguest suspicion. lan, while it left him free to keep good his pro- gestations to Blanche, would serve to remind Barbara of the promise they had mutually made, viz. : that if she ever flirted with Roy Davenal, he should not hesitate to do the same with Blanche Wd. Hehnever, for a mornan su posed ra wasp yin a e as ee as‘his own ; he only supposed ghat Eavenal wag in love with her, and that there was nothi be- tween them. In this he was vastly mists en, as he learned afterward. is mind made up s‘i’hilufisgfar‘,’l 'hm all thou ts “agar-g:- an gan ‘ part in t e t t darkened from that hour, by turnin to B anche with a smile set her heaiirtfsrfiflguwtfir. , you are no a , suppose we take a promenade? Mrs. Chetwynd, may $611533, I assure you I will take excellent care Barbara turned at the words, and was in time to see him Slade the scarlet wrap over her shoulders, an clasp the silver fastening. He drew he‘riflzand through 63% and, with a lance as s as meamn a passed ou% the French windogv. 3’ “ Sh we follow, Barbara ? I have so much to say.” Roy Davenal bent low (over her crimson cheeks. Only an instant did she hesitate, as she thong t: “I will be equal with Gervaise De Laurian. He shall see I can flirt as well as he can.” Then, with a bewitchin smile, she answered Davenal, loud enough to also heard by Ger- vaise and Blanche; and her husband ground his heel on the graveled path as the musical sound reached him. “ Thank you, Roy ; I will go. I know nothing I should prefer to a moonlight walk with you no. And Be Davenahdin the fulness of his love, I believed w t she sai “ And now my own, tell me every thing that has happened in th sp ' since we cparted, 9 Have you been well? an hap y, and true i” The had gone only a litt e way from the river nk, and it seemed to the girl who leaned F Like ' De Laurian turned around, and . ghhfigrbara yet she knew her secret was her own. “ That gentleman I met—that Mr. De Laurian —has a re utation that has reached all the way to my estern home. Blanche’s lover, I see now.’ “ Well 1” Barbara answered calmly, but her eyes lit- tered with a light that told how strongly er , heart resented whatever reflection Roy might “ lEBarbara Iester! I am so deli hted tesee ‘ cast 11 11 her husband. “I eard he was a fre uent inmate of Mr. Chetwynd’s mansion, and owin how beauti— fully bewitehing you were, my arbara, how cou d I help wondering if he would win you over 1tohim? “You for t Blanche, Roy. You see for yourself his ( evotion. Besides, how could I play you false i” Why did she not tell him, then and there! Wh did her voice, fraught with such liquid tcn erness, lead her deeper into anguish at the last, and him further from happiness? “You could not, I know, and that I have wronged you by the suspicion, let me beg your pardon. Still, you can hardly censure me when on know it was love that rompted the fond Jealous . To lose you, my arbara, would be worse t n deat .” He wound his arms around her waist, and kissvd her mouth; while, just in advance of them, she saw Blanche clinging to her husband’s arm, and his haughty head bowed in tender sol- icitation. Her innate Womanliness cried out against this double outrage, but a lurking devil in her heart prompted her to deal as she was dealt b ; not thinking it was Gervaise De Lau- rian s e was outmaneuvorzgfc, foul-hearted though he was, but her own f, this guileless Blanche, her noble lover, who, had he known what she could have told him, would have fled from her as from a plague-tainted creature. But to Roy Davenal, Barbara Lester was the em ' ent of all that was rood, pure and woman] ; and in the mi ht of is love, he had invests her with the qu fications of a oddess. That tableau before her—and little rec ed she that all was truth that she thought a bit of clev- er, pointed acting—gelled her, and with a firm resolution to bamsh the admonitions of consci- ence while she detected no si of a discontin- uance on her husband’s of this wretched farce, she turned around toward Roy ; a sigh, that she could not repress, escaping her lips. “ Did I hear aright'! Barbara, you are not wounded at what I said?” “I am not. I happenedterecall amemory of the past that gave me a momentary heart papiia £33m” kn I truthful] ‘ r 0 you ow can y as I do not regret any of my rt that concerni you? By t e b , dearest, came across the most charming llad the other da that so full coincides with my feelings. Sh Isingiti” “ f you will, yes.” Barbara was gazing at the pair before them, and she s ke in feverish haste. . “Mr. 6 Laurian and Blanche will doubtless be a delighted audience,” responded Roy, gayly. “ But I am perfectly willing they shall consxder the lan personal.” His c ear tenor notes, mellow mid musical, sounded out on the still autumn night; an as Barbara clun to his arm, wonderin what or husband WO (1 think, and smiling itterl as she thought how much more guilty she was han he, De Laurian and Blanche involuntarily slackened their steps to listen. “0h Genevieve, my early love, be years but make t as dearer far, Myheart shall never, never rove rom thee, my bright, my guiding star 1 For me the past brings no re et ; Whate'er he years may b ng to me. 1 bless the hour when first we ms t, The hour that gave thy love to 17' i ' so heavily on his arm that his voice was lower, , and more intense than ever she had heard it ; and a shiver thrilled her, but she unhesitatingly i i answered him. “ Well, and happy, and true, Rey.” , How she abhorned herself for that deliberate lie 1 but there, in the moonligt, before them walked the two who were g ' her on to it. “ I need not have asked 1 . for my heart is the In a flood of exquisite, pensive melody the words died softly away. “ Gervaise is not that lovely 7” . Blanche Chetwynd, her eyes wet With unshed looked 1g) in her lover’s face. . “ erfect. o toch, and expremve of my feehngs’ to on m OWn. H As it I iiid’noty know that 1 And while I am sohappy in your love, Gervaise, I re ice that Barbara’s heart is so fully Roy‘s. y have been engaged these three years. ’ u Engaged 1» He started involuntarily, his eyes lighting up with a dangerous glow. “ Why, yes. Did you not know 9 They will be marrim " in the eariv spring. “ Why, Gervaise, what of .that 1” Her words recalled him to the actualities of the resent, while they warnedhimof his part to y. ‘pNothing, Blanche, dear. Only it seems so odd, somehow, to associate Barbara and mar- riage. I should as soon have thought of hearing of your marriage with—well with—” ‘ Some old married man i” And Blanche laughingly su plied the most ridiculous com arison she coul think of. For a secon his cheek burned, and his dark eyes steadily studied her sweet, guileless face. CHAPTER VIII. STEEL r0 STEEL. IT was only for a second, then he hed. “ Not quite as bad as that. Bu y, Miss Lester is a splendid ' l, and Mr. avenal will secure a prize—when e gets her.” Blanche did not detect the hidden meaning of the remark. “Indeed he wilL And she, as well, in him, for Roy is a noble fellow.” his(*ieriraise gently pressed the fingers thatlay on ve ous.” “ You mustn’t.” She looked into his face with a suddenl - wn serious expression of her own, where t lashes fought for the mastery over the earnest pallor of her cheeks. “ You never will have occasion to be jealous, Gervaise, for I shall be true. When you are false to me—and I know that never will be even in thought—then you may accuse me of disloyalty.” He never winced as he met her womanly eyes as she spoke in such proud confidence: but there occurred to him the vivid contrast of her purity and truth, and his foulness and the living lie he knew he was personatm . , At the steps, in a pa h of unbroken moon- ligh§the rty met. “ ou ve enjoyed this perfect evening, Blanchet—Mr. De Lauriani” “Form self I can say I have, ve much,” returned lanche half timidly,asif ‘ nedte flufg 18:0 cared for the exclusive society of “Icansafelysaylneveren anevening more. As on remark . Davenal, the night is pergect; then, wi a most congenial companion, who could help having a delightful time , ‘ ItwssGervaise who spoke an ashedidso, looked y down at Blanghe. Then he addressed Barbara, quite figuptly: , , ‘ “ I may presume to in of m; Kim Bar- bara,if you feelrepaid or your bleinpre— paring for the walk ” ' Hiscool tone,so sarcastic andironicahbut served to increase to further heat the flames of he}; ealous anger. to in _ on may presume quire, , as m escort was a near and 'vqryodear pengggl‘friemiv, on will not be surprised know I greatly en- ¥oyed the o portunity that gave me h exclusive societ —w eh I prize above all privilegea”. “ on my darling.” . my spo im ulsively, little dreaming the “it tfit 3mm; et in ' ' hi h i ’ ' ey y avorcemw c only Barbara. detecta the smothered fury, he retorted: “ You are then in a very enviable frame of mind, Miss Lester. Permit me to congratulate on and Mr. Davenal that such choice spirits have met.” ' Barbara bowed, frigidly. Roy Davenal won ered if Mr. De Iaurian were always socrisp in his compliments» Just then Mrs. Chetwynd came in thrOugh the wind Gervaise instantly extended his hand“: Blanche. then.” “ Good-nigh Then he rose it to Barbara. Coolandhamflwiththeairofm she merel in or head, clasped or}; BogDavenal’s sham?“ De l‘urian 1: his tawny mmtschohflerce vexation as he went down fl re- n‘lermlltfl‘l‘d how another man hi wife ‘ ‘( ar ing." slee . “Be careful, little girl, or I shall grow jeal- OW. » “ gme, girls, it is time for your beauty—- y“, “V”... ‘ r .c...... _._ g“ ¢ WAS SHE HIS WIFE? __ ..‘4' ..-, 4‘- _ ., All that night, in the sleepless hours, be tossed n. his pillow; all the next morning the endear- ing epithet rung in his ears; the when the hon! came for the usual afternoon ride, he had arranged his plans of action. In his little pony—phaeton he drove from Pat- r-m a: down to Chetw 'nd Chase, and found Roy Ila mud on the veran a, and a low basket-buggy drawn up by the carriage mount. The two exchanged greetings, and Roy _ex- plained he was about to take Barbara for a ride. ” i beg rdon for interfering in the least, llavenal, hilt I fear Miss Chetwynd W111 thmk you a little unfriendly in devoting yourself so assiduously to Barbara. You are a guest of her fat her, you know, and permit me to suggest that you escort hcr to-day and leave your Jetrothed to mc.” l'o Lam-inn {poke in a half-earnest, half-con— lidn-miul way 1"“:t no one could have taken of- {Misc zit, much less Boy, who instantly appre- vimml the deli .wato advice. . “ You are right, Do human ' I’ll make amends. Barbara will amuse me if I desire it, won't you?” 110 lifted his hat as she came down the steps with Blanche. “ Won’t I what): ’ she returned, as she be- stowed a careless nod on him. "Accept a swt in Mr. De Inurian’s hasten, while I improve the opportunity 03 of pay- in my regards to Blanche.” lliar ara looked at Gervaise. Ha telegraphed her a stern command. Then she smiled trium hantly. “I prefer not, R0 . ou know I have count- ed so on this ride. lnnche would rather enter- tain Mr. De Inurian, l‘m sure.” Blanche blushed. “ I‘m sine I’ll ride wherever it is best. I would like a nice little chat with you, Roy.” Blanche had neceived an encouraging smile from De Lamian ere she replied. Barbara w frigid in a moment “ Oh, if it’s a conspiracy, I’m sure I wouldn’t attempt to interfere. It must be a great flirty to dcprivo you of your ‘ nice little chat.’ . De laurian, I am at your disposal. Do youwish me to ride with you!" Her coldness did not in the least affect his simn co . “ £11m glad. Let me assist you tothe phflemi’ddha task he hand,butshe ewo ve en r rung in herself; a hard glitter in her eyes, a‘ fever spot b ' on either cheek. Roy had lifted Blanche in and they drove on, De Lamian following, out of hearin distance. Not a word was spoken till they ad cleared the ds of Chetwynd Chase; then, with a hen-fiifofleliberateness, De Laurian turned to- ward Barbara. I U In that one word was concentrated all the pent-up emotions he had nursed since the pre- vious evening. “What do you mean, Barbara De Laurian, by your conduct? What am I to understand you mean?” _ Threats authority was conveyed in every intonation of voice as ho glared at her. She lifted her eyes boldly to his face. “What am I, your wife, to understand you mean?” It Do Laurian was angry, Barbara was a match for him. “ Drop me out the question and answer me, I command. What does Roy Davenal mean by callin you darling?” “Vfiiat you mean when you call me that name,,I presume. I did not ask him to ex- lain.’ p She was cool and calm, asneering smile curl- ing on her proud hps. “But, woman, by what right does he so. it l” “A’ prior right, man. He ew me and ovcd me lon before you saw me.” “ coming from the presence of him, who, less than six weeks ago, pronounced you my wife, you romised me never to «are for him . Where has our honor gone?” ' “To the same ace as yours, Gervaise Ill-urian. What did you promise me concerning Blanche Chetwyndl’ . . She laughed as she spoke, a. low, sneenng lau b that made him turn fiercely on her. and sea her hands as they lay idly, gracefully over each other. “386. here, Barbara De Lali I haye heardhimcallyoudarlin - Ihhveseenhim view on with 0 es of love; have learned you were tro him. Barbara! Barbara. do on know what you are doing!” His voice lost m of its arsh wmthfulnass as be repeated her name; he had bern sewing how gloriously beautiful she was in this new phase of character and he feared, lest, through this Roy Davenal he might lose her, after all. “ Barbara, I ask, what are you doing 3” “ \Vhat are you doing?” Their e 'es met with the same inquiry in both their dep hs. A silence followed; then, by a mi hty effort, for she loved him so, and so longed gor a loving word or glance, she spoke his name: “ Gervalse.” Her voice was soft, and it needed but a kind word or a. tender look from him to sweep away all the ice barriers. “ If we have acted wrong there is pardon and re ntance.” er siren tones, tones that he so loved, re- neWed the jealousy-dimmed flame of love; he let fall her hands, and wound his arms around her waist. “There is no use—I love you so, I love you 30, mg wife 8’ he leaned her head against his shoulder. “ And I Gervaise, was vexed and jealous that on would not believe I loved no one but you. do nut care for Roy Davenal, but I fear he loves me. You are my all, and in all, my hus— band.” “ Then let us forget the past and begin anew. But, Barbara, I must have you all to myself. We ham- been married six weeks now, and made no tour (yet, which, of course, seemed ad- visable, consi ering the secrecy imposed upon us. But, my dearest, although I must compel a continued privacy concerning our marriage, still can we not arrange a trip that will appear ostensible to the Chetwynds? She shook her head negatively. “ I fear not." CHAPTERIX. BEWARE! nswml DI Lsomm smiled at her decisive manner. “ You are hast in your conclusion, my Bar- on you no i” “ do not see how it can be done, Gervaise. I do so dislike these secret affairs. Do letus tell them and have done with it. I do not anti- cipate any trouble, and if there should arise an , we can go away—to England.” he laid her hand on his sleeve while she spoke. “ Barbara, my darling, let me tell you a little confidence. Between you and I there are may good reasons why we may not divulge this — airé” First, what think you Roy Davenal will sa e watched her narrowly, and a satisfied smile betokened the success of his first appeal. “ Then—nemember this is sacredly confiden‘ tial—Mr. Chet\ d- has ken to me about Blanche. You ve h them mention the Curse of Che (1 Chase, haven’t you! That is to fall on B nche’s head—she being the youngest daughter-in the sha of desertion, dishonor and death. Mr. Che nd tells me Blanche loves me; he has asked me to marry her, as in case of a happy marriage dishonor could not ensue, desertion would not—as for death, that will come whether or not.” Barbara uttered a. faint cry of pain. “ Wait, my darling. He wants me to marry Blanche, as I say, and, if you notice, both he and Mrs. Che d are constantly giving me opportunities of cultivatin her society.” arbara waited till he Vi? quivering mouth use “And you love—” “ ()1in my glowing tropical bird, before whose brilliant beauty Blanche pales as the lily before the rose.” Hc kissed “the rose ” passionately tomprove his‘ag‘sertion. darling ” h ed, ‘ 0 You see, my ' , e continu “ wli desire to takeadyou away. The Chet- wyn s will see me gr uall cease my atten- tions to Blanche, which, for 'endship’s sake, I have paid, and their minds will be repared for the news I wish to give them, w 'e you are away. I desire to bear the brunt of it myself.” She thanked him for his brave considerateness with her most bewitching smile, while‘ a gleam lighted his eyes as he congratulated himself on the succm of his plans. _ “ Then you’ll come with me, my darling I” He whispered softly. “ Tell me your arrangements first, please I” “Have on no friend in the West—110 lad’y W110 W001 invite you for three months or so?’ She shook her head; he smiled at her obtuse- ness. , “ Well, then, if you should receive 8 letter .M' " , , .. ~-. 7 -..._...—-..-..< ._ ’7’ . > - ,1, -— - from a ‘very old school—friend, whom you had forgotten, who begged for a. visit, couldn’t you go, think—even if 1 were the friend who wrote $31333: u: f h peaud ;r u e force 0 t 6 litre. a to her; she’lilushed, then laughedmgy p “ 0h, Gervaise, you ade t! But our combined absence! Peo'plé’fill ” “ Let them. You will notbe here to be an- noyed, and the certificate can be displayed when we return to Chetwynd Chase." His careless, hopeful enthusiasm inspired her; and she ve her word. ,1 “ I prepare for the journey mimediately, lau rliable as it seems for the bride <8 Gervaise 11300 to steal forth alone on her wedding “1‘. ' An amused smile accompanied her words. Just then the other carriage halted, and We all alighted to rest for a few minutes. It was a charming place, where the fragrant spiciness of the pine grove perfumed the air. “ Do you know what this ine odor reminds me of? Or do none of you have that scents will carry one irresisti ly back to old—time memories?” Roy DaVenal looked meaningly at Barbara as they walked over the leaf-strewn ground. “I for one, believe it,” she returned. “ I can recollect how, one June night, when I was the morest child, they took me to see the corpse of a friend, the dearest playmate I had; she was covered, almost, with geraniums, and since then, their smell sickens an frightens me.” She shivered as she spoke. A little silence followed her words; then Roy gently spoke. » “After unfortunatel leading your thoughts in so grave a channel, fear I should not men- tion what I was about to pro .” Barbara laughed—a laugh that mated on R0 "3 car. He was uh’arly sensitive, and un ' now, Barbara’s voice had never made but music for him. If her la b annoyed him, the words that fol— lowed ca stran sad surprise. ‘f You needn’t min She has been dead years and years, and, heart-broken though 1 was, I assm'e you I am perfectly resigned now.” That heartlesness was the first link of the broken chain; that hour the date Boy Davenal remembered in after days, when he had occa- siioxnego be thankful that ever the chem was sun- . e For a moment the silence was awkward; then De Laurian broke it. “ Suppose we walk on until we meet the old fortune-teller whose but is somewhere among these mysterious shades? We can pay her a. visit, an havehthe mystcnhem'ous future” unrolled tooureyesb or re 'c sayings. “I ,hir.ll)el:aurian,onlyldo hope she’ll not tell the truth.” Barbara gave him a look be fully comprehend- ed ; then he addressed Blanche. ' “ You also wish she may not speak the truth 1” She laughed, and shook her head gayly. “Aspif I wanted all my bad qualities ex- “ I difler from you, ladies,” said Boy, much more vely than the occasion called for. " For mysel , I prefer the entire truth—much as I doubt her ability to speak it. You are not afraid of her witcheries, De Laurian l” “ I ? Iafraid of a fortune-teller? She might Wear 1 were a pirate, denounce me as am— bler, a m ; or call me a—a—f’ “ Gay deceiver; that Will finish the pro- gramme,” Roy interpolated, merrily. “Exactly. Nothing she will say can affect me. ” He smiled half defiantly, and just then they came upon the low thatched but, whose sole in- habitant was bending over the pile of light kind- ling? she had collected for her evening fire. e looked up as the party approached, and greeted them by a slight nod. _ . She was an old woman, scantily dressed, whose face was withered and brown, yet of pleasant expression. Her keen, sunken black eyes were kindly in their scrutiny as they sur- ve ed the quartette before her. ‘ We have come to have you inquire of our future auntie.” De Baurian bowed elaborately. “ I can do it. Come Withing while I read you the hidden secrets you desire. ’ She pointed to the door with the authority a duch mi ht have and as they crossed the thresho , Roy and Gervaise removed their hats to permit their i ‘ “ Gentlemen always do me reverence. It is right. Who can interpret-the music of the wa- ters, or demand of the planets their purposes. V certainly is worthy the respect of both men and Her ready utterance, her deep-toned, drama- tic language, were in her favor. She produced a glass of clear water, and began peering eangy into its transparent depths. a h Tgen, r a“, lme survey, she shook her ea . . “There are clouds, darkness, winds, storm, and a wrecked ship.” She looked suddenly up at Barbara, and beck- oned herto draw nearer. _ “ It is allvthere,” as she touched the glass. “ I see it as p ' yes you see the Veins on that dainty hand. There is a lover ; there is a sweet- heart ; a wife and a husband. I see wrath and anger; I hear deceitful voices and a 1 ing- tongue. I see the deceiver betrayed, an the w” roud brought low. It is dreadful, dreadful! h, the anguish, the weeping, the dying ! And it is of you, beautiful woman ! on, whose love brings a blight, whose vows en in a curse i” Barbara’s eyes had a deadly glitter in their brightness, and as the woman’s voice died away to a low, crooning murmur as she re ated over and over—“ a curse ! a curse l" Ier cheelnz was pale as snow, and she snatched her hand mm the woman’s . “ You wicked slandering old witch ! you vile morbid hag! I-Iow dare you, before these en- tlemen, re t your Satanic inventions? ow dare you, say 3" Barbara glared in the old woman’s eyes like a very fury. “ Barbara, never mind. We do not care at all for what she sa . Did we not agree to en- Ry t sport, and et any unpleasantness pass? n’t, Barbara don‘t look so. ” Blanche laid her hand on her arm. The fortune-teller’s face suddenly grew lumi- nous again, and almost reverently she touched Blanche’s floating golden hair. “ Sweet-faced and gazelle-eyed. Oh, the heart aches - yon thunder-brewed one will curse you! Oh, the tears on must weep, till ou’re drowned in them i ut there comes ano her— he of the tender heart, who, once torn and hurt, as you must be, will know how to offer the balm that will heal. He will strengthen and sustain.” Blanche looked brightly over at De Laurian, whose eyes sent back a dart of love. She never dreamed the fortune-teller referred to any one but him. Boy was watching the twu, and as he noted the messages telegraphed between them, he knew it was a verity, De Laurian‘s love for Blanche Chetwyn . The old woman suddenly threw the water through the door. “ I will see no more. I will tell no more. My eyes are bhnd ; my heart curdles at the scenes. I will take no money—it would pollute m fin- Go, all of you, and remember the o for- teller’s last words—‘ anaiu: !' ” CHAPTER X. was numu AND numb. Il' Barbara had anticipated the surgrise her announcement would cause, she more t an real- ined her expectations. “Barbara, what can posses you? It is such a perfectly wild idea, that of your accepting at once an invitation from a schoolmate you have not seen for years.” Mr. Chetwynd seemed quite displeased about it, and even frowned when Barbara displayed her letter, and very matter-of-factly declared her intention of accepting it. “ Barbara, either you or Nellie Bruges is crazy. Why, she never seemed so great a friend of yogfina‘hcom "i t ed surp cespoenunei rise,towhich Barbara answered carelegsrs‘l 2 “ Nor will we be now, I think. I hope you’re not ous, Blanche?” A ter that Blanche said nothin further. " Perhaps, as on aver it is a oolish whim," Barbara said u etly, to Mr. Chetwynd. “ But I should enjoy he tour, and the change of life, for a while at least.” Her determined manner carried the day, as usual- and before night her half-dozen trunks stood in the hall, packed, strapped and ticketed. Alone of the party, Rey Davenal had expressed no opinion ; but the expression of his eyes had haunted Barbara all that briny day. On this, the last evenin at Chet (1 Chase, she had attired herself her rn becoming toilet, a pale lavender silk. Her splendid hair, so lustrous in its dark brown beauty, was drawn from her forehead a la Pom dour, and then allowed to fall eyer her shoul ers and far below her waist, with onlya narrow fillet of ribbon for ornament. 8 .___WA§_ SH}; HI§ _WIFE? She was beautiful beyond expression, and when her mirror had returned her faithful re- flection. she had gone from it with a new light l . __.,_ .__.. , ._,_ “You are not over complimentary to your host’s daughter, Roy." “ As a lady, she will always command my es— in her already Sparkling eyes' the commons I teem and honor : asafriend, my bestfriendship. power that beauty always gives a woman. Blanche and her rooms at their toilets, and De Laurian had not yet ridden to Chetwynd Chase ', so that Barbara parents were still in their 3 was alone as she descended the stairs and went i out upon the starlit piazza. It was a most perfect night; warm for the month—November, and strangely still, with a reddish gold haze intervenin between the slend- er gold crescent that was hi ing, now and then, among the feather ' cumuli, and Barbara, as she leaned a inst the hone suckle trellis, could not but feel he influence 0 the time and scene. And what a time it was! She, a wife unac- knowledged by a soul save her husband; and not on] hat, but the recognized promised bride of anot er! Truly there was little wonder that her breath came quicker, and her heart beat f‘stcr, when she heard footsteps a proaching, and knew it was her lover coming or the parting interview. She saw Roy Davenal coming 11 the avenue, and a. cold, steely expression gut ered in her eyes. “Shall I mislead him et this once? Shall I probe him, to see if the b ow will be so hard when it comes? He must not know my ouble game until eve one knows.” She decided astily as Roy came quicklv u the steps, and with passionate ardor, took bot her hands in his own. “ Barbara, my darling, why are you ing from me! Won’t you stay? Is it because am here that you are anxious to be away? If so, let me go, and not on.” His voice was t rillingly entreating, and he spoke hurriedly, impulsively, as one who has much at stake. Barbara saw his meaning, di- vined the suspicion he entertained, and resolved to use it to her own advantage. W'ith a cold little laugh she struggled to withdraw her hands, but be detained them. “ Mr. Davenal, since you will not release me, of course your prisoner has no choice but to re»- main, however unpleasant the situation.” In an instant he let her hands full. “ What, Barbara! you cease calling me Roy? You affirm it is distasteful to you to be near me? Barbara, tell me what I have done to of~ fend you?” . “ It is of no consequence, in the least degree, that I need re t it. She spoke differently as she toyed with a spray o the honeysuckle. Roy’s eager elves were on her impassive face and the look 0 distress on his own was pitiful to behold. Just then Barbara looked up, and their eyes met. She started at the sight of him. “ I will tell you then that you hav: surmised correctly in su posing that your presence drives me from my ome. At first, your visit was a source of ceaseless joy to me ; afterward when I discovered it was not myself, after , that was the motive that broug t you, I concluded to abandon the field to my fair rival, and dis- pose of myself as best I could.” “ that! you accuse me of favoring a rival of yours. Barbara? You tell me another puripose than seeing you b ht me all the way rorn St. Louis here? Oh, bara, what demon has been poisoning your heart ' me?” His voice was freighted with anguish, and bare. saw him throw his hat on the floor, and pass his hands over his forehead again and again, as to quell some tumultfoltis pain. h t th h momentag remorse pang s o roug Barbara’s hea . “ Poor fellow, he deserves better than this at my hands.” t was a passin thought, but Davenal was benefited thereby, or, almost involuntarily, she uttered his name, “ Roy!” . It was spoken in a ow, tender tone, and_a sudden happiness lighted his features. “ Barbara, darlingi you will take back those cruel words? You tell me you have other reasons for going away? Youll tell me once more you love me?” He was so impulsive, so ardent, in hlilsifreat, strong love for this woman, and she 8 ed at his impetuous way. smile usually opens the door to a kind word, and it was not the reverse in this case. “ Roy, I admit I am hardly treating you fair- ly. I did say I thought you cared more for lanche Chetwynd than for me—" He sna ped a twi “ I don care the Barbara” of honeysuckle. for her. and you know it, ed . light, she la down to slee with he us 2 note against {or red cheek. p, l But as a wife, Barbara, she is a nonentity, com- pared with you. Why, if I had married her and then met you, I’d not like to say what would have been the consequences. Barbara, don’t you know how I love you?” He laid his hand on her shoulder and looked \ down into her eyes. “ You‘d not commit suicide, or sue for a di- vorce. would ou?” she lau bed, but a cold shiver thrilled er as she hasti y framed another question. “Suppose the case reversed. Slip pose I were married, to Mr. De Laurian, for in— stance, what would you do?" As she waited his answer, a sickening dread she could not help, crept numblv over her. that. was not alleviated when he spoke, in a painful ly-shrill whisper: “I'd not hesitate a moment. When a man loves as I love you, Barbara Lester, he would never permit another to cross his th with in» punity. Do you care for Gervaise e Laurian I“ The question came so suddenly it almost took her breath ; she shrugged her shoulders and laughed. . “ I care for Gervaise De Launan, and engaged to on? Roy, that is absurd.” e did not smile in response. “ You have gracefully evad the question. Do on care for him at all 7’ es or no. ” e regarded her with a scrutin that took all her indomitable will to meet. en, with her matchless effrontery, she answered : “ I do not. ” A sigh of relief escaped her as he accepted the deliberate lie. . “I thought perha you did,” rejomed Roy, caressing er cold gers. ‘ I judged from our coolness toward me, and by the way you first new used his name.” Barbara trembled as she realised the danger her false lips had averted. “I am going in, Roy; it is getting chilly. Are you coming?” She paused on the threshold and looked over her shoulder. Roy thought he had never seen her so passing fair. “Yes, my dearest one! wherever you go, I follow, even to the death '” Like a funeral knell those words in her ears, and, despite her efforts to forge them. they haunted her for weeks and weeks. CHAPTER XI. rm: war us nor. Wrrms the ligtllited library, Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynd, Blane e and Gervaise De Ieurian were sitting, and wondferfid, who; she exchanged greetings him e had card an of er conversation with Boy Davenal. social convsrgeil the hours of that last avian- ing at Chetwyn asepassedawa ,and,w en it was eleven by the cuckoo clock, the party broke up and sought their rooms. Barbara had no chance to see_her husband alone that evening bu at when he took her hand an bade r good- t, he left a note in her . The lights all been extmguished at the Chase, save in Barbara’s elegant apartment, where, in her white nightdress, paper with almost idolatrous affection. It read: “Mr Bwu'r Win:— “Foreoeoing the difficulty there would be of ob- taining a private interview, I thought it best to write a few last arrangements in case I do not find an o ortunity in the morning. \ “ t, then, my wife. use the inclosod cheque. which you will resent at the bank designated—the address is writ en in one corner, you see—in New York. I think the amount it represents will sumce until I join you two days after. Think of that, my beautiful darling; I shall come to on in two days never again to leave you. We’ll be ppy, Barbara, won‘t we? “ But to the arrangements. When you reach New York, you will only wait lo enough to attend to the che no, and go direct on o Philadel his in the 9:45 traIn; engage a suite of rooms at o ‘Oomi nental ‘ or ‘ Girard’—thev are directly 0 its each other—whichever you prefer. Thenho: hurs day, I will come, my own, and togetherp for our future tour. "I may have no opportunity, as I said, of so much as a word in the morning; and that is why i desire to renew my assurances of love now; you are so dear, so unspeakably precious to me, my own, my own. How shall I hasten the time when we meet? hush, my Barbara, forever. cutogreet. “Yen's chruo vumn." ' Barbarareadandrereadthisletter nodes:- to her; then, when she had she opened the , “~—wa-._ ' ~ /, WAS SHE HIS WIFE? E; In the next room, where the odor of night- swaets was wafted in, Blanche Chetwynd was kneeling by the wide-open window, her sweet face all alight with love and hm She was too wakeful to t of retiring. The evenmg' h hafii 1:366!!! a filenjoyalble one to r an t o s e regre osmgt esociety 3? Bard, s‘tfil the love of De Laurian was an Ill- werf comforter. 9 had hidden her a most tender good-night when Barbara had re-entered the house, su ' Blanche had preceded her u irs. n e lighted veranda they h stood, be holding her hand in lover-like familiarit . “ My little pure pearl, Wait until the ouse is fillet aégain; wait until Barbara has gone. en, earest, the long rides we shall take alone, the de ' htful walks, the charming tete- wtetes with no ear of being rudely interrupted; and best of all, my little one, t e wedding at Christmas.” These ardent words were sounding through Blanche’s ears at, and, in the solemn stillnem 'of the midnigh hour, she communed with her innocent self. “Poor Barbara!” she w ' red, softly and pityln ly. “She is so prou , so cold, hat I ear s e will never condescend to love or be loved. If she only knew how blessed it is to have somebody care so much for her as Ger- vaise does for me, she would be so thankful and contented. As it is, her unrest arises from an unoccupied heart, for I am more than ever sure that she doesn’t care for Roy Davenal. How strange it is Barbara never cared for Gervaise! They are both so grand, so proud! But, if she was to! if he was ever to love her and not me! what would I do?” A sudden sharp look of pain shot across her face but a merry little smile chased it awgg. “Bowsillyl am! and weto be marri on A blush overspread her face as she let fall the lace curtains, and sought her pillow, so trust- ins. so happy. CHAPTER XII. :rmc CHAIN or GOLD. 'l‘n earliest birds were caroling a matin to the sunrise when the Chetwynd ‘ drove 3) to the side entrance, and receiv its load trunks Even at this eleventh hour, Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynd were rotestin against Barba- ra’s going- and Blane e stan ' Eeby De Lau- had gallo down in gray dawn Han, who from Paterson to b d her adieu, entreated her, yet quite coolly, to reconsider the matter, and no the visit, if not give it up. Do Laurian, to all eyes except her own, evin- ced a gentlemanly regret at losing her society end she would remember him as a friend and -wisher; then when she laughed and assured him she wo do so, suddenly grew glnfully confused—a rare misfortune to occur beam—when It)e fLaurlian banteflgiglyhltggci her a se 0 o s ' t e w ' rose- ibl‘ld She 1d, that if find lgortime favored them With. mother meetin , the would both be mar- ried. Blanche felt ghe pgmure of his arm on her hand. and a. flush dyed her face. 1 Bo .Davenal sawit, and drewalongbreatli of re_ 16! that Do lam-inn and Blanche were so well in for it‘. , In a secon Barbara’s self-command returned. “ Doubtless, Mr. Do Laurian, your redic— tionswxll prove 00170th And now, as have hidden you all a personnel», I will be off.” She went down t 0 steps and entered the car- ulia-r nt way, and Laurian’. 'hem be“ grimly as he on herl so radiant, so styl— in her traveling suit 0 Antwerp silk, and her dainty hat with a Bird of Paradise floating a ray of sunlight over her dark hair, “. bara, have you no word for me! I am there need be no further secrecy in this . Our friends all know of our engage- ‘; wh need you leave me without a part— won-dig ' ’ Ipokealittle bitterl . . Barbara leaned back amgng the cushions, her face ex remive of her displeasure” Why 119,11 h‘ . lotoolishly? whatmadehimspeakm Inchrmamieri What reply gum scllie magi? M would until! an no ‘- satisfy De 1mm 5' 3" H9" My: 'Ol'mn’s wit came to the rescue. gig: r W“ YIN“ RD-Ishouldthink, . ,v you “WM WWd so .Wymtwmb&m r all? ‘ benefltof mln' , WM ought; or e 'v V , ll ' J; )4 ’\ * . , I“) xii; ‘ I Roy had full view of her face as she spoke, while no one else had; and as she concluded, she smiled upon him, and kissed the tip of her fingers to him, at the same time making a mena- cing little gesture toward the rest of the party. Dc Laurian had laughed outright when Bar- bara spoke. “ Good for you, Miss Lester. Davenal, you acknowledge yourself worsted by that broad- side?’ Roy could afford 'to laugh after that look of Barbara’s. “ l’ll repay you with interest some day.” Mr. Chetwynd stepped up to the carriage “ You have no more time to spare, Bar ara; Oliver will have to drive fast to catch the New- burg ex )rcss at Paterson. Take care of your- self an write soon.” With a beaming smile, Barbara nodded them adieu, and, as the carriage turned a curve, she waved her handkerchief toward them. With a sigh, Mrs. Chetwynd turned to re- enter the house; had she known all that would occur before she a in looked on willful, beau- tiful Barbara, the Sigh would have been ashriek. “ Such an idea! and yet, in its impulsiveness so like poor Barbara herself.” Mrs. Chet d remarked it to De Laurian as they entered t 6 house. ‘ I think it very likely she will return as sud- den] as she left. You will miss her very muc , doubtless.” “ Indeed we_will; she seems as near and dear to me as though she were one of my own blood.” De .Inurian started, with an exclamation of rprise. “ Is she not a relative? I always supposed her a cousin, at least.” “ Oh, no; there does not exist the slightest tie of relationship. She was a sort of waif, who was left to our kindness when onlya babe of very tender age. She and Blanche were just of a size and ago then, although Barbara has grown the taller since.” De Laurian listened with eager interest. “And ygu have not the remotest idea who or whaTt’ she ? There was no clue to her parent- e “ Yes, a slight one, that only seemed to highten our interest in her. It is a broken chain, of Florentine old, joined by an opal stone, that is severed in he middle. On the under side of the jewel is half a letter ‘D’ and acomplete one joining, thus.” She drew with her pencil on a card two letter D’S,‘l$pped and joined. “ e suppose the missing half of the stone to supply the rest of the letter and another also, to correspond with the half have; thus mak- ing, when complete, three D’s, that doubtless represent her parents’ initials while to us they suggest the terrible ‘curse ’- ishonor, Deser~ tion, Death, which my poor Blanche seems to inherit as her fatal birthright.” A dense shadow darkened Mrs. Chetwynd’s face, but she strove to throw it off. “ We named her ‘ Barbara Lester’ because on her little robe that name was written.” De Laurian was listening with intenscst anima- tion to this story of his wife‘s early life. “ Blanche, bring the necklace for Mr. De Laurian to see; it 15 of rare workmanshi .” As Blanche obeyed, Roy Davenal joined Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynd. “ lrow that Barbara has gone sir, I candidly admit the charm at Chetwynd chase is broken. I came from the West purposely to see her, and, in consfimnce of her sudden flitting, have not accompl' ed my object. “Mr. Chetwynd, it must be useless for me to so I lovo Barbara. I have loved her for years. I esire to make her In wife. Can it be so?” He looked eVery inc the noble lover as he stood there and proudl asked this favor at the hands of the court] 01( gentleman. “ As you say, 1'. Davenal, it seems almost superfluous to tell us this, so patent has. it been for so long a time. I will not stand in your way, believing on to be a man well worthy the hand of my froster-child. She will give you her answer, and, whatever it is, I will ratify it.” Roy howed- he had not much fear of Bar- bara s withholding her consent. ' t “Then at Christmas, if she has returned, I may claim her?” SO, far as I am concerned, most certainly.” .Roy 3 face grew luminous with the eat ha mess, and be warm] ,d Mr. C etwyn ’3 nd, and offered h t ,andinreturnre- if‘iyed both his and Min. Chetwynd’s congratu- ions. . Then he went across the room to De Laurian, who. his head leaning: carelessly against the 811 1m ‘.» window, had heard with secret triumph, the iirrangements to give his wife’s hand to this over. “You will ofier me joy? and a. long life to love and cherish her, De Laurian?” “ Most heartil I wish you all you will wish me and my bri e. Allow me to announce the future Mrs. Gervaise De Laurian.” hBlanche had at that moment entered with the c am. Roy took her hand and touched it to his lips. “Accept m mest fervent congratulations, Blanche. An , as your present is bright and sunny, may {Eur future be fairer and more {radiant De urian, you’re a fortunate fel- ow.’ ‘ “ As well as yourself, sir.” They shook hands warmly, and then Mrs. Chetwynd touched Davenal on the shoulder. “ When you write to Barbara, Mr. Davenal, glease do not intimate the engagement between lanche and Mr. De Laurian. You’ll remem— ber? It will be a most delightful surprise when she returns to her own wedding to find there will be another.” “ I will not mention it. And nary, ilny friends, permit me to wish you good-b . 'it your per- mission, Mr. Chet“ , I will, take one of your horses, to be sent directl home.” “ There is no need of t at, Mr. Davenal. One of the men can ride over after on and bring back Firefly-you’d better take ire-fly.” “ I may pOSSibly catch the train Barbara took, —-I will try for it, at least.” He bade them ood-by, gave a hasty order for his trunk to exprwed through to St. Louis, and galloped away, followed by De Lau- rian’s dark eyes, that combined a. mingled look of mocking triumph and derisive pit . “ This is Barbara’s chain Mr. De urian.” Mrs. Chetwynd handed the necklace; he took it to the window to examine it. “ What does Barbara herself think of it?” he asked. “She does not say; I knOW she would like to keep it in her own possession, but I thinkit should remain in my keeping.” “ Undoubtedly; and you may one day dis- cover she is a duchess in ' ' .” Blanche wondered at the fire in her lover’s eyes as be critically surveyed the toy. A sudden resolve had entered De Laurian’s brain, and, as usual, he acted immediately in accordance with it. This chain was a link that bound Barbara and—who was at the other end? Was the necklace a stolen bauble, or really the remnant of former riches on her parents’ part? At all events, it must be his; it should be his. With a sudden start of alarm, he sprung from the window. “Mr. Chetwynd—Madame! what have I, in my awkwardness, done! I have dropped the chain outside.” He hastened to the door, and to the lawn, where, under the window, was an iron grating opening into the underground reservoir from whence came the water in the fountain. In consternation Mrs. Chetwynd followed him. “What can I do to replace it? Any thing you can suggest shall be done.” De Launan’s face was troubled and anxious as be red through the fgratin , then at the faces 0 Mrs. Chetwynd an her husband. “ Do not be so grieved. Accidents can not al— wa s be avoided. ’ er ladylike manner assured him he was pars doned for his carelemnesa, and they went back to the drawing-room, while De Laurian, bid- dinghthem adieu, returned home. Out of si ht of etwynd Chase, he checked the speed of ' horse, and with a smile no la can de— scribe, drew from his coat-sleeve 8 broken chain of Florentine gold! ‘ CHAPTER XIII. ma BREAD BLOW. TRUE to his word, De Laurian did not lose , any time in his “ trip on business, that wain ngcessarily etain him a couple of months ‘ a east. So he explained to trusting Blanche, as they bade adieu on the moonlight piazza at Chet- wynd Chase. “But I will be back in good season for the wedding at Christmas, in little betrothed, and then for a life of love wit my own Blanche.” And she, nothing doubting, only grieved at. the inevitable separation, and watched him1 with tearful, yet happy eyes, as he went forth on his mism' 'on of direct wrong;m , He joined Barbara at the tinental Hotel, and, fearful lest his plans would be by V the chance recognition of any traveling friends, w 10 suggested a qufet honeymoon in some out-of- the-way lace, where, as he told her, with thrilling eve-words he could have her all to himself for the feWS ort weeks he could remain with her before he returned to New Jersey to arrange for their home. Barbara seemed almost like another person, all those bright, blissful days; she had thrown care and fear to the winds, thankful that Ger- vaise was her husband, trusting implicitly to him, and forgetting the tormentin jealousies that had torn her so, in past days. She seemed to live a year in those seven weeks, so crowded 'were they with concentrated content and hap— iness; it seemed ages since she had seen the ‘hetwynds—poor, guileless Blanche—and Roy Davenal. Somehow, whenever she thought of Hey, it hurt her: she was grown so hap )y and peaceful herself, because of her husbam ’5 love and devotion, that she pitied Davenal with a. tenderness very foreign to her passionate na- ture. Gervaise and she would sit for hours and talk over their romance, and then, with all the ardor of her soul, she would tell him how she loved And so the days were away, and almost be- fore she knew it, the time had come for De Laurian to {4) back and arrange for her return. She earnestly pleaded to go with him in the first place, but with thoughtful consideration he insisted on her remaining until he had broken the news to the Chetwynds and arranged for her a befitting home-coming. And so, transformed by love into the true trusting wife, she gracefully consented, an , thanked him for his kindness. And then he bade her adieu—only a ‘short adieu he said, as he kissed her again ands. ain; then he left her. That afternoon, after e was gone, and she sat alone by the window, she wondered why it was she felt so strangely, not physically, for she never had been in better health. But there weighed on her mind some weight; some cold leatfen pressure that would not be raised, and that she attributed, at len h, to nervousness, superinduced by her natur regret at her lover- husband’s absence. Little did she know what that op ression was the shadow of, or what was the su tance that cast that shadowl She never dreamed, in her trusting love, that he who was all in all to her was a man of black- or soul than any man but a very devil could be; how should she know? So she waited for his return—and then, one bright, wintry day, the one before the sacred, beautiful Christmas, the horrible blow came, that transformed Barbara De Laurian—we never shall call her that again—into the woman whose presence brought a blight, whose hands scattered seeds of Dead Sea fruit, whose heart and brain were the heart and brain of a Medusa -that blasted whatsoever the would. There came a letter and ' is what it told her. word for word: “ Barbara, the hour has come when it is meet that you should know all, when it is my disa reea- his duty, m painful duty, to tell you a trut that I know will ring curses on my head for time and eternity from you. I deserve them: lwill say that; I accept them as the punishment of my wickedness, And do 'not add insult to in 'ury by asking or expect ing you to forgive what I ull Well know is unpar donablo. " Barbara, this letter will reach you, I intend, by the five o'clock mail on Christmas afternoon; at noon of Christmas De. I, shall be married to Blanbhe Chetwynd, at hetwynd Chase, with the full and cordial a proval of her parents. “ You start, an ex“ laim in passionate bewilder- ment, I know; I an» derby solemnly swearing that Blanche De Laurin i will be my lawful wife, because —God pity you, Burbara,you are uni, and never were. “ You understand how I have sinned? You know now that I permitted you to believe valid 3 (were. many performed b a college student who consent. ed, with as wicke a heart as l, to the infamous deed? I will not attempt to gloss over my conduct; I will not remind you how I loved you: you know that, Barbara; neither will I harshly remind you that it will be better for you to conceal this little 0 i do in your life, for your own sake. Blanche shall) never be r inoyed by you, nor can‘l errmt that any trout o shall come to my wife a amil therefrom; 71m. know me, Barbara, and that I wil not be irifled with. ‘ A aiu, you remember the broken opal stone, and the c ain of Florentine geld we have talked about and so often examined? 1 shall retain it in my pos- ‘ session, and if ever I find you are working me eul I shall send it to on as a token of vengeance. . “And new, Bar are, beautiful, enchanting Bar- bara, I bid you adieu, never expecting .our path: will cross again, ttri‘it cgrtainlly igtending if they do, th twe eta: on s a can . . n” “Gums: DI Mosul." Ri ' as a marble statue she had sat, and read I WAS SHE HIS ,WIFE? scription, her fingers clenching the paper with a 'p of iron, her eyes lurid and tearless. en, with almost a. sna , so suddenly did the tense muscles relax, her ds fell lifeless at her side; a. quick, choking sob struggled for vent, and then came a torrent of hot, heart- wrung tears. She was a woman, with a woman’s keen capa- bility of suffering, even in proportion as she had love . Like a scorching simoom the storm of grief, horror and despair burst over her withering her heart, inflaming her soul, and leaving the soil of her rinciples barren and waste. “ Lostl— 0st! ruined, disgraced, deserted, un- loved—and all, all by BIMl Trampled on and then carelessly set aside by him whom I wor- shiped as men never worshiped their Godi Ger- vaise l—Gervaise! can it be true? have you given me up?” A mean of heartrending agony followed her words, and she clasped her hands over her heat- ing bosom, while her head fell forward in the abandonment of her awful grief. “ For you, for you, Hi Gervaise, my lost love, would I have dared things—all, save this— this infamy, that, in all my wildest visions of love, I never dreamed of! But you no longer love ME, whom you have betrayed, then spin'ned and seemed 1 You have 'ven the love for which I would have bartere my soul, for which I did, all unconscious, sell my honor, to another! I might have borne even this dis ace, Gervaise, had you been true! But to anot er—to Blanche Chetwyndi” Her soliloquy was bringing a defiant glare to her eyes; the olden-time lare, a hundred-fold intensified, that had 1i h her e es in the days when she had not who y trusted er lover; and she snatched the ring from her icy fingers—that she had regarded as her Wedding-ring—with a gesture of rage. Suddenly er mood changed, and with yearn- ing cries of love and tenderness, she pressed it passionately to her lips. Over and over again she kissed the bright Jewels, her tears dropping on their gleaming surfaces. “ The deTocious dreams I have indulged in over his betrothal (gem ; the blissful hopes I have enjoyed—oh ervaisel Gervaisei it is so hard! it is so cruel! I will die, all for love and betra al—love for you, Gervaise De Lauriani” Wi h a low wail of pain she drooped her head on her breast, clutching t e diamond~ring in a tight grip. Quietly, motionless she sat; for an hour she neither moved nor murmured; her heart was accustomin itself to this sudden blow; she was slowly num ing herself to her inevitable des- tiny. Slowly, surely, Barbara Lester was Crush- ing, with ahnost superhuman power, the love of her trampled heart. ~— CHAPTER XIV. TEE BURIED Lovn. Pansnmr she arose, and walked totterineg acrom the room to the pier- lass. She smiled scornfully at e reflection, as she addressed it. “ Barbara Lester, do you know who you are? and what you are? and what your business from to-day is?’ She paused, and a tremor passed over her. She grew paler, and reeled a step, then stood, stron and firm again. “ at was the last dying ngl I have buried m love for De Ems n—but I have bumd it alive.” Her chest heaved irregularly, but only for a moment; then every trace of her agitation had vanished. “There Barbara Lester, wronged, disgraced, contemptible though you know you are, on are strong again. Stron , with a strength rn of weakness, proud, wit a pride followin humil- ityi You will never uiver when you ear his name; Iyou will never alter when you speak it, or bias when you ak to him!” She peered in her utiful dark eyes, and her lips {grind in a gloomy smile. “ ve was sweet, Barbara Lester, was it notl Beaut is pleasant to possess, but there remains somet sweeter than the one, and better than the other. Ramon! written in letters by a pen steeped embittered by thgegall of a tarnished honor! Never shall you from our toils, Barbara Lester; never shall you fin lasting r for your burning head and your weary eet till your task be nished.” . She raised her hand, and then laughed, to see the learn of the diamonds. the lliah letter through. from date to suver- , “ e gaze it fora love-pledge, but he will rue in the blood of a. bruised heart and the da . By that ring I swear to crush every hope, glig t every joy, blast every comfort he dare imagine!” , v A very aven 'nrr spirit she looked; superbly beautiful, cal y defiant. The wave of on had passed on its may, leaving her resigned, but des rate. ere was ,a giami in her black eyes that an- gured trouble to some one, and a pi ' ess smile curving her red lips, that was ominous. And she did not belie her looks. She intended a. revenge from the depths of her heart 11 from the moment she dated the living burial of her love for Gcrvaise De Laurian, she dated her first step on her self—appointed mission. And a. terrible mission it was: only one that a woman, deceived, betrayed and crushed as she had been, could have attempted; and she un blenchingly went to work that very hour. The fact of De Laurian’s letter havin arri ed twenty-four hours sooner than he had or expected, was not overlooked by Barbara; it was an intervention in her favor, in that it gave her am Is time to perform the 'ourne between Philade phia and Chetwynd hase fore the marriage ceremony occurred. She lpacked her trunks with a precision that denote the high state of nervous excitement she was in' had them labeled “Miss Lester, Pat- erson, N. .,” (the Chase carriage would meet her there, if telegraphed), sent to the Kensin - ton depot, and a through ticket to New Yor brought back. , ’ She had no idea of forbidding the beans she kncwt00well the utter nothingness of the claim she had upon Gervaise De Laurian, but she did know what to do about it, and the first thin to do was to return to Chetwynd in t for the wedding, and meet the man who had wron ed her with a stolid indifference that shoul mystify him. She dressed herself, with excellent taste, in a. pearl-gray silk walking suit, and called a car- riage to take her to the Kensington depot, first pa in her bills in a queenly, quiet wa . , s s e took her seat in the car, alreade nearly full, a. gentleman addressed her. “ Madam, will this seat be occupied?” - With a thrill of anguish and surprise, she turned to recognize—Roy Davenal. ‘ “ Barbara! can it be possible? Oh, I amtoo thankful I have found you. I have been search- in%for you this two months.” is face was all aglow with delight, andhe caressed her hand as warmly as he . “ Where have you been, my darlin ? I went as direct to your friend’s house as, could’ and she was as astonished to think I would £3 you there as I was not to find you. Where have you been my dearest?” . It was like stabbing a wound afresh for. Bar- bara to listen tothis man’s honest, loving words. He called her “darling” and “dearest,” this . man who believed her to be his betrothed, whom she had gross] deceived, and who, if he had known all, we d have recoiled from her side in horror. . So he had discovered that she had not been. to her friend’s; well, she instantly decided upon two points; first to allow him to still her his betrothed, and to confess, in the - candid, wholl of years a i seemed—that she had never in- tended gomg to her friend in the West, but of- fered it as an excuse for a long jaunt she wanted to enjoy alone. _ And so she told him, in her sweet, bright my, this strong-hearted woman who was traveling on, further than the cars could take her to wreak her revenge. . J Roy Davenal was so glad to see her: he had been so torn with fearful doubts since Mil. Chetwynd had promised him Barbara’s hand for Christmas ; now all clouds were lifted as by magic, and he reveled in the beauty of her presence. Naturally, the ,wedd‘ Blanche was discussed; and ape iti and the bridegroom-elect, without a tumor 0 tone. ' But when Roy told her of what had been his hopes for the coming day, and urged her with all a lover’s so histries, to consent to be married, a fierce horri existence of which she barely contrived, by her superhuman will, to conceal from Devan?! eyes. It was unexpected, —for she could pity him, now, since she , so needed strOn sympathy—would not Boy postpone it till uteri . - ‘ ~ And in the bitter, anguishful numeric. tint flooded her eyes Roy Davenal read only pit-d- ing oninuty.«‘ I-Ie was obliged to flout!!!”- tant consent. and then Barbara new“ I. s E 3 willful way she had—:hundredl, of no Laurian ' Barbara buff pain shot through her heart, the ‘ 042:1 “Wane-mew .- :7“ M; ‘ \ .m‘f -.___..._’ w .> < ' I :3 , -.‘.i.,. we.” , cf-.- .,,2 .riads of twi I ...- - 2.-.; ,. " -. ,:.“““.'¢~.‘f! . I» .117 f. .1' { ' "' ' ' "‘l ’ x...“ M? _ a . ~_ M K ‘ WAS SHE HIS WIFE? ii the train swift! on, carrying her nearer implied plainly distrust as to Blaiiche’sr future and nearer—to what At Jersey City the took an accommodation trainthat made all t 0 stops on the Erie road, , between the city and Paterson, so that while her trunks were carried on to Paterson, she and Roy left the train at Passaic and walked to Chetwynd Chase. It was a briiliant ni ht, and at nine o’clock the moon was at its f l ; they I walked rapidly along over the frozen, snow- ked road, and Barbara, wrggped closely in or furs though she was, shiver as though she were dying as they hurried the abbey ruins. Ah! The ny was 11 dead, if the proud will had burl it alive. Chetwynd Chase was all alive with lights that threw their radiance far out on the snow-bound landscape and Barbara wondered if it meant a welcome or her? . _ Somehow that still, mild mght, with its in - ' stars, made her heart ac e bitterly; such a ‘ home-coming,” after the one she and De Laurian had pictured time and a ain —-—now she saw With what consummate skil it had been done, and she hated him for the mo ment. They could hear voices now and then, laugh voices, and then—a uick, wild c burst from Barbara’s lips. De urian and iBlanche passed by the Window on the inside. Bfinche leaned on his arm, and he was bend- ing 9 head with that stately grace that became him so well. . After that quick, wild cry, half-stifled though it was Barbara knew she could meet him un- moved, and as she mg the door-bell long and , lfoudly, a flush of conscious pride rose to her ace. The footman admitted her, and she gracefully Walked into the drawing-room, amon the guests, and went up to Blanche, as she leamng on Gervaise De Laurian’s arm. “ Blanche, I’m home again, and 'ust in time. Sir, I ofler my con tulations.” he bowed to De Laurian, who, or the moment, was trans- fixed with horror : then she went coolly on, and t‘tgdflgdrs. Chetwynd, who was eagerly talk- y. 'M‘ My dear child! and such a goose-chase as you have been leading, Roy tells me. Well, let me go With you to your room, my dear, and see that you are rested for an hour or so, before you come down ' .” And that was what this woman had looked forward to in‘ her rosiest dreams 1 this was Bar- bara’s “ home-coming!” CHAPTER XV. DRAWING THE Nirr cmsnn. PASSING fair was Blanche Chetwynd on the of her bridal day, with her sweet brown m alight with tender winsomeness, and a faint on her white complexion. was eleven, and she had been dress- ed only a few minutes when her parents and firflbamtgnterediher rpfam figchange those af« 0113 W t om occur more tlnlline once in a lifgtgisme. r bridal costume was su rlatively ele t, that ll became the rankpgnd wealth o the Chet _ ds' no less than the personal grace of the bride, to whom the cloud-hke folds of Mech- lin lace over heavy white silk lent new and syl like beauty. e Chetwyn pearls crowned her proud little head, and lay in cool urity around her throat and wrists, and depen ed from her ears. She had seated herself on a capacious damask sofa when her parents and Barbara had entered. “ Blanche, dear child, this will be the last levee mas Che will ever hold. The next will be ven by rs. De Laurian.” Chetwynd spoke tenderly, and the tears to Blanche’s eyes. “ t, tears? Not on your wedding-day, Blanche? Surely the bride of Gervaise De Inu- rhn should be the happiest woman living. ” Itwas the hf;3.t.herflw 0 spoke so highwnly find r .8 n Y cum "tongladthe :: tears f ' ” k 0 0y' ' Barbara’s md'sical voice pigonounced the words, Ind‘Blancbe turned toward her, as Barbara “Because in dear tim come When tears of Q;th gm'bheemim y, then, re- Wfim ' y B he’sanswercameinquic startledtones. “Barbargdenotmentionsuchathing! You nag: cold shiver to my very heart.” locked My at Barbara’s dark, sue laughed: the low. melodious laugh. that daughter‘s hap incss. ‘I’m a little surprised, Barbara, that you should introduce so gloomy a topic on this occa- sion. Let the . child be treath to all that is beautiful, pleasant and hopeful.” Mr. Chetwynd turned gravely toward Bar- bara. Again the same satirical laugh issued from her coral lips, but a rap at the door, immediate- ! ' followed by the intruder, prevented a remark. 'ith a blush of delight, Blanche saw Dc Lau— rian dressed for the ceremony. He went straight up to her and affectionate kissed her, while she retained the hand be ad extended, and caressed it fondly, the while looking eagerly up in his handsome face. And Barbara smiled as she gazed on them. “ We were bidding adieu to Miss Blanche Chetwynd,” Mr. Chetwynd said to Gcrvaisc, who bowed gayly. “ Because she will be to me the dearest among ivoan is no reason why you should love her ess. “ Surely not,” returned Mr. Chctw nd, “and yet you must never forget the pccu iar dowcr she brin s you—the mysterious, ‘Cursc,” that from to-( av you must share 0 ually with her.” “ But I fear no old legend, aervaise; do you ?” Her sunn eyes would have inspired any one, and her gal ant lover bowed an assent. “ Indeed I do not fear it, my Blanche.” “But it will come, Mr. De Laurian, in one form or another, depend upon it.” De Laurian turned haughtin to Barbara, who had spokcn ; not a vestige of surprise or fear on his face, that only were an expression of cool casm. “ Indeed, Miss Lester! But as you are not an oracle, we will not depend on any thing you may ailirin.” Oh, that covert blow, and his eyes so guarded, his words so aptly chosen. But she was equal to him. “I suppose you have heard it declared by persons more responsible than I that chickens and curses come home to roost? A wronged, betrayed woman, jealous of her honor, would never suffer her words to fall idly. Lady Con- stanzia was such, I take it. Something of my style, was she not?” She had looked Dc Laurian full in the eyes while she was speaking, her own face perfectly calm and under control; now she turned to Mrs. Chetwynd with the apparently careless in- qinrly. “ n personnel, I should think so; in charac- ter, I hope no .” A faint mocking smile flitted across De Lau- rian’s lips that stung Barbara to the quick. “He shall pa well for tha ,” she declared, then spoke alou again, in her sweetest voice. “Mr. De Laurian, if I may venture to ask a boon at the hands of one from whom I should expect nothing, I would request from you to me a personal promise that you will sacredly keep the vows you will take upon you at the altar—- to love and cherish Blanche as we, her family, have done. ” In surprise they turned to Barbara, as she ut- tered the strange request. Magnificent in her festal dress of jet-black velvet and glowing ribbons, she leaned with careless grace a ainst a marble Ceres, who lift- ed aloft a shea. of olden wheat, from whence flamed the light tha illumined the apartment by ni ht. De urian bowed fri 'dly. “At the altar, Miss ster, I shall swear to cherish and protect her better than parent or sister ever could have done. ” A defiant smile lighted his face. “Doubtless, Mr. De Laurian, we all expect you to do that; still, we who are nearest and dearest to her now, would be pleased to hear that personal assurance. I wish it, Mr. De Lau- rian. _ Her eyes were fixed intently on his face With a magnetic flame that could not but annoy and irritate him ; but he bowed before her. same” a h u . e n interru ‘im. “ Why shotflgy ou, Barbara, demand this “range, request of r. De Laurian? If the idea strikes You as important, or simply pleasmg, Wigy not refer him to my wife or myse f? r- Chetwynd’s. eyes were piercing vainly thf‘f’ugh Eli-Photo’s nnpassive countenance. Because. air. Who else beside the sister whose couch she has shared so many yearS, whose con- fldante she has been since her heart; knew a secret ; who else should demand and receive a promise?” She looked around at them a moment. and then again suffered, for a second, the bewilder- in lig t of her eyes to fall on De Laurian. r. Chet d’s face relaxed into a smile. “Mr. De urian, it rests with you, now, to indultre so harmless a whim.” De ‘Laurian shrugged his shoulders. “ I think the lady can wait until the ceremony ——thcn she shall hear me swear ‘ till death do us part.’ ” A shiver ran over Blanche‘s form as her lover uttered the words. “ It smmds so dismal, Gervaise ; I verily be- lieve I am a coward to—day.” She bravely forced a smile to her lip: “Blanche, dear, it is my fault for ving in- troduced the sub 'ect. But you’ll forgive me?" Barbara knelt fore the girlish bride. “ Unrcservedly, sister mine. I am ashamed of my own childish weakness.” She smiled lovingly on the upraised face whose eyes of flashing kncss were vailed and subdued by the long, hea lashes. She saw the smile that played over arbara’s red lips, but, in her own purity and innocence, did not read it aright. She little dreamed that the beautiful woman at her feet had been transformed into a verita- ble dcmoncss. A silence fell on the little company that grew momentarily op iressive. Barbara was t 6 first to break it. “ Come; the guests will be dis at our tardiness—«and am sure that is oy’s step on the stair, seeking the rccreant bridesmaid. Come, Blanche, take pa ’s arm. Mr. De Lau- rian, you will escort rs. Chetwynd? Boy— I’m ready.” Her fresh, girlish laugh, as she issued her playful words, broke the spell, and the bridal party went gayly down the stairs. The minister began the impressive service, and a solemn silence fell on the assembl , while all e es naturally watched the bri e, none thinking, at that moment, of the stately, grace- ‘ ful bridesmaid. But, Barbara stood there, proud and haughty, in all the consciousness of her regal beauty, and listened to the vows that Blanche so trembling! y promised. A gleam of fearful fire flashed from her eyes as the officiating clergyman turned to Gervaise with the customer inquiry. A gleam of light that darkened rat icr than illumineul; a. name— less something, thnt seemed to scorch, annihi- late; on her bloodless lips there curl a smile, that matched well the sardonic balef ness in her e es. - Suddenly De Laurian glanced up at her, and met that awful smile, that terrible lurid light! ‘ And then, too late, it came to him, like a re- velation that this wronged woman would cross ins track, and that, too, in her own way and mm CHAPTER XVI. ONE STEP moan. BELOW stairs, in the spacious drawing-room of Chetwynd Chase, the music was pla ing gay— ! and twinkling feet kept time in t e merry ice. Above, the est and dressing chambers were deserted and Silence rei ed supreme. The servants at the Enhase, together with the maids of the visitors, were grouped outside the doors, and on the stairways, regarding the gay scene within. In one of the apartments above the second flight of stairs a chance passer—by might have heard voices in low, cautious conversation. The room was what was called the “ observa- tory,” a small, square apartment, whose walls were of thick plate-glass, whose furniture c'on- Sisted of only two chairs, and a complete set of astronomical instruments. ' Two persons occupied this room; one, Barbara Lester, who stood carelessly leaning against the large telescope, her brilliant eggs intently fixed on the fair, handsome face of Davenal, that was lifted to her own with a ' e of unuttera- ble love. “Roy; ghe said, tendng , l‘l‘this is kindtfiif ouno or tmeami a te e of a bridal scene begfow.” gay W ' “ Forget ou, Barbara? That I never can do. Do 'ou not ow it, and how more than thank- am to have you back again once more?” He extended his hand and lifted her round, bare arm to his 1i . “Do not. stan Barbara; sit beside me. and let me hear the send of I{our words. Speak love words once more. has been so ong since, dearest.” He was looking yearningly up in her pale l “ ‘hatred, and a fearful strength of will; and, per. face, and, as he spoke, he drew her face against ’ his cheek. “ Tell me you love me as well to-day as ever? —yes better than you ever did before. Is it not that for which you sent to me? \Vas not that your reason when you sent the message to meet you here i” . A bright smile of hope was on his lips, that “ were almost womanly in their fullness and beauty, yet entirely relieved from effeminacy by the defiant curve of the chin and the deter- mined sternness of his dark blue eyes. “ Roy,” she answered, in low, exquisite tones, and, as she heard the sound of her voice, she wondered if it were she or another she were listening to, “Roy, I did send for you for a most important purpose-a purpose that needs your assustanee toward accomplishing the de- sired result, and whom no one beside yourself can do. You will help me, Roy, dear?” , She glanced keenly at him as he listened in 1 r . ect ul silence. _ ‘ To the utmost of my ability, Barbara, dar. ling. What is ité” . terrible smile swept ovor her face for a brief second before she replied. “ Roy, we both know that Blanche Chetwynd was married, not an hour since, to (lervaise De Laurian; the festivities are this moment cele- brati/ng; but, Roy, Blanche shall NEVER be his 101 (3 She spoke,the last words in a thrilling tone, fihat made him look suddenly, more intensely at er. “’yVhat do you mean, Barbara. You mystify me. Again, like a flash of fatal sheet-lightning, there swept that gleam from her eyes, and she bent nearer him to answer, until her breath flamed over his cheek. “Roy Davenal, that man who has married Blanche, has offered me, our betrothed, the deepest of insults. Shall , knowing who and what he is, permit him to become the husband of my only sister? Will you, my lover, aid me to avenge myself, and save Blanche from a life that Will surely fulfill the curse of her race .9” A wrathful smile leaped into Roy’s eyes, and he involuntarily sprung to his feet. _ “Heavens, Barbara! De Laurian has dared insglttyoui Shall I shoot him down before his in e ’ “ Oh, no,” and she laughed lightly. “Don’t be hasty—I am not, you see, and to act effect- ually we must both be calm. I have laid my lans out, Roy, deep as the sea, and all I require is our skillful hand.” . e kissed her cold fingers as she extended them. “ You can depend u ion me, to the furthest ex~ tent of your need. he villain—how dare he! Barbara, my beautiful betrothed, my blood boils when I think of it.” “ I thank you, Roy, dearest.” Her siren voice thrilled his very heart, and he kissed again and again those rare red lips, so false, so fair. V “Barbara, I’d hardly have thought that of De Laurian. Unless your trutth lips had 8 ken it, not all the oaths that could be taken ould have convinced me.” “ You cannot be more surprised than I was, to learn his vileness. To me he was the soul of ohival and honor—but I know better now.” Her ips closed tightly after those words, and Roy saw the shiver hat went over her. ‘ And on think it will be right for me to save Blanche rom him, Roy, darling?” She caressed his cheek and smoothed his hair with her mesmeric fingers as she smiled in his eyes. “Are you not alwa a right, my Barbara? I cannot imagine you ending yourself to any- think wrong, dearest, even if you are severe. Therefore, possessing such unbounded confi- dence in you, I say-do our own sweet will.” He looked away from or a second, to consult his watch, and the smile vanished from Bar- bara’s face, the soft light from her eyes. )I wish I could describe that countenance as it looked then, in all its baleful malignity, its bit temess, its (Wiring jealous . t was a face that fascina while it frigh nod, that bewil‘ dared while it startled. A face on whose bril- liant features were written danger revengeful haps, more than all, a. proud consciousness of them all. “ I must leave you now, Barbarafidearest, or I will be missed. Kissme before I go.” He wound his arms around her waist, and drew her head to his shoulder. “Who could look in those eyes, Barbara, and refuse to obey the command your sweet lips . near Chetwynd Chase, when rapid steps that : brought a cold sneer to her lips as she heard uttered f” WAS SHE HIS WIFE? “Then tell Mr. De Laurian, for me, that I await him in this room. Let no one hear the message and do you entertain Blanche until he returns. ’ An excited flush rose to her cheeks as she spoke, low and rapidly. “ I will tell him at once, Barbara.” And she sat calmly down, to await the com- ing of the man who had wronged her beyond hope of reparation. CHAPTER XVII. m POISONED msan. SHE had not long to wait for she had seated herself in one of the chairs that she ad drawn to the side of the room that commanded an extended view of the villages around and them came nearer and nearer. A few minutes only had it been since the message had been de. livered in the coldest, haughtiest way, to Ger‘ vaise 150 Laurian, et those few minutes had sufficed him to deci e on the course he intended to gimme; that of cold indifference that would be e her passionate accusations; a contemptu- ous disregard of the magnitude of his sin, and a mysterious threatening attitude if she assumed her prerogative to expose him. So he smiled as he tapped at the door, with as much unconcern as though his valet was await— in him and not a. wron , jealous woman, w ose all-absorbin love ad turned to all—de- vouring hate, and w 0 only awaited his entrance to wreak it upon him. “Enter ” he heard a chill high voice sage) and very nonchalantly he opened the door and wed to her on the threshold. “ You desire to see me, Miss Lester?” “I do, very naturally, Mr. De Laurian. You are not astonished?” “It is needless fer me to say I am astonished beyond expression; I supposed it was all over between you and I.” Her low, musical laugh started weird echoes in that lonely room. ' “ If you real] thought so, Mr. De Laurian, be it my delight task to correct the mistake; also to inform you that not a soul in Chetwynd Chase, save Royal Davenal, knows of your whereabouts.” De Laurian returned with interest her steady, Burning glance; then a hateful smile parted his ps. “Then he so good Miss Lester, astotellme for what I am wan , as I am anxious to return to my charming bride.” She bowed her head in regal defiance at the words. “ Your bride, yes; but.never-——” . She sudden] checked the words. ‘f Sit down r. De Laurian, while I talk with you, on an -important subject that can scarce! y fail to interest you.” She acefully pushed him a chair, then glided tothe oor. “ I will close this,” she said, lightly; we do not know who might pass by.” The heavy oaken door swung heavily to, and closed with a 3 map that sent the blood curdling through De Laurian’s veins. Then she reeeated herself op ite him, and her fl re arra ed in the ominous black velve and b cod-hue rubies she seemed a very fiend of vengeance; and, as the cold smile faded from her li , and a steely glitter gathered in her eyes, rv ' De Laurian shivered to see her. Deliberate y she crossed her small, dark hands on her lap, and coolly surveyed every lineament of his face. “ Gervaise De Laurian,” she said, in tones that were low intense, and fearfqu musical. “ Ger- yaiserPe launan' , perhaps you will tell me who am She paused, awaiting hh answer. “ I will, certainly, strange and uncalled for thou h your question is.” “r, on do so at once. Do you know who I am There was a meaning in her cry, and a meaning in the peculiar tones wi h which she put the words. “ You are M138 Barbara Lester, adopted daughter of Barton Chetwynd, of Chetwynd Chase. Does the answer to so idle a question suit you?” ~ His li curled scomfully as their eyes me each so etermined in their expression 0 patien revenge. “ 1y ” she returped quietl . “You speak truly wheii you say an: Rexgm Chetwynd’s adopted dau hter; but, youflie false. outhed . lable non of perdi on, when ‘you call me inra l4 Lester; ou know the name that belongs to me° ou knozv who I am—your wife, in the sight of 0d and honest men.” She had Diver misgld 1llieii1 viiige from the inn tensel dee eyinw 'c s e gan speahfi , and n3dw, £hen the hissing echo of her we died away, De LALd'ldIl realized that the smol- dering fires would. ere long, lea forth. “ But I am more than that, rian; I am an avenger.” She fairly whispered the last words in his ear, as she leaned over to him, while her hot breath ' scorched his cheek. “An avenger of whom, may I ask?” He was uncommonly superb in this assump- tion of utter forgetfulness. “ You poor fooll do you not think I can read our mask as plainly as your viperls heart? ut, since your role is to fei such blissful - nomnce, be mine the task to explain that I a l avenge my wrongs—wrongs I received at your hands; that shall be forever nameless between .us 1) She toyed gracefully with her glowing ruby bracelet. . Then his face clouded over with that darken- ing frown she had so often seen before. ‘ Barbara—~” . , “Mrs. De Laurian, if you please, name I so kindly explained.” He threw up his hand impatiently. “Barbara, say, you had better think twice before you attempt to threaten me; before—” "' Thmk ‘twice!’ ” she retorted, mercilessly. “As if I had not thought a thousand times, and. each time a hundred-fold less leniently.” v , “ But, Barbara, I repeat, beware how m seek to cast this aspersion on my name. member, despite your threats, Blanche is already ' my bride.” “ Yes, the r, silly child is Gervaise De Laurian’s bri e, but she never shall be his wife. I swear that.” r . She raised her hand as if in mute invocation, as the words drop like hot lead on his ears. He confronted er defiantly, and met boldly the uncanny glare of her eyes. , When he spoke, it was in a low, hoarse whis- r. pe“ This interview shall not be rolonged an- other moment. I bid you good- rnoon.” He was trying to conceal his anger, she saw and a light of malicious triumph that she succeeded in affecting him, was plainly visible ' on her features. He strode toward the door, not stggphg to offer the coldest bow when suddenly e g ded ~ past and confronted . “ Mr. De Laurian?" - _ She spoke his name in a voice exquisitely lovely, but disregardful, he pushed by her, un the second summons, followed by her strange language abruptly stopped him. “ Mr. 0 urian the door is securely fasten- ed. No one can gain egress or ' except at my pleasure. I alone,,of the househol un- derstand the secret spring in that door. I, one, will open it for you. But, before it isopened, you must wait another moment.” He leaned carelessly against the door- , but, despite his flashing eyes, his lips were quiv- ering under the thick mustache, with a craven fear. “ You perfect] understand, do you, Mr. De La rian, that I eclare you shall never be more to anche than on are this moment?" ‘ ' She s ke hare ly now. “ I unpgerstand nothing of the kind. I only know you are a bad woman—” . ‘ She uttered a genuine cry of pain at those cruel words. . “ Beware! remember you are alone with met, our wrong dis cod with the ' 0 K woman mgg’e danggrzrous than a W of her youn l—powerless in my hands, GerVaise De Lauriang’ He forced a contemptuous smile to his llpl. “ And you think to to me with your idle threats? Unless you can no possibly tear your- self away from m society, I would that you condescen to unfasten thedoor, as the - train in which I and my bride leave, will be due in lea than half an hour.” ' " He was playing his hand as boldly as he dare, desperate though he knew the new may be my .. ' , quie y ; t on a an ion floodihg over her, she : out ink Iamgoing toletyouadd “mtimm new ‘é‘i'il’ "‘3’" "m' our ainy— y w pu 12,111;e Sta” ({0er my? pun“: e on on an u re. a you. Mig/ohand. and not the arm of No ‘3. a rvaise De Lana arms,» the ' ..x ’ _ ’ . _ ‘ Flu). u -mr4,‘ . n—j .,\ ~ ‘1; fawn; J1 hum ' 3" n __ .~ .~., ___,,,'.. ya 1 .\J =p..‘7s‘a.a‘.‘.‘i>.+‘e fig; 3; .4 ~12 \ \ A rible in the communication, and yet De reeled, staggered to a chair, and with a face pale ‘ he? Prpbably 0701}; Ming 8183s 9 champagne. Isn’t it Whateve ‘llr. DeLa ‘Blancheto her mend 4 \ WAS SHE HIS WIFE-f? 1.3- -=:m=:=r legs laws, will apportion you 1your reward.” hm.er eyes mere scintillénh: fer lips aparl:in in fury, y wearm earful, moc g smile that so her. ,“ But before I speak further on this subject, lwill show on this letter which came to the Chase fore the ceremony, and which I kindly k in charge till a convenient moment to 've you.” pushed toward him a sealed envelope, that la on the table. -mechanically he tore it open, and read: “Mr. De Laurian, you will at once remit the amount due on the mortgage, or the foreclosure will at once take place, and your entire estate will be sold at public auction. Canaan's.“ There was no date ; there was nothin so ter- urian as death, convulsiver several times. “Demon! evil!” he muttered, in choked ac- cents; “curses—ten million curses on you!— ou’ve poisoned me with that infernal forgery] can smell it—horrors! is this death i” His jaw fell; he writhed a moment in the chair, and Barbara Lester, with a triumphant smile, unfastened the door, and snapping it after her, went slowly down to the realms of hght, mirth and joy. CHAPTER XVIII. WIFE on WIDow? AT the door of the drawing-room Barbara metRoy Davenal. His inquiring glance was understood by her as full as words could have been. . “ as,” she re lied. “He came obedientto my summons, an , after he departed, I heard footstep returning to the ‘observatory ;’ if it waste renew our not particularly leasant con- Vfl'fin n,”he will be disappointed; or I left Just as e Not a tremor of her eyelids or a uiver of the 11133 88 8118 :20de his arm an entered the ngedroo “Roy,” she said, tender] , “I can de mi may not to mention t e fact that met . Laurian alone in the ‘ observatoryi’ I would”not enJoy the petty scandal it might cause. _ “ I certainly shall not mention it, in dearest, unless it be to De Laurian himself at zome con- venient season after the bridal tour. He must apologize to me, Barbara. ” She smiled brightly. “ I think that would be no more than right.” They had reached the rear end of the draw- lug-room, where Blanche had held her little court since the wedding hour, and who now was rather anxiously consultin a tiny little watch, set in pearls, that deaf; ed, like a lock- et, from the necklace at her t at. “ Barbara, I’m so glad you’ve come! I’m worn because Gervaise stays so long, and I’m ashamed to tell an one. I wonder where he went to? We’ll sure y 1068 the train.” Barbara laid her hand caressineg on Blanche’s “The brid in has wn for etful has detained 1; 551218 bache or friends crue She laughed down in the brown eyes, that were a shadow ’way down in their clear deeps. . :hMamma thinksI he sfiguédhgave come to es- co me up-stalrs' oug ve changed In “scram...” - . y y ' no . ovmg, rust' 'r! read the fearful secret in those egylves that were shining down into her own? Wh did she not shrink in utter horror from under t cool, hand? Or why did not some voice whisper Roy Davenal’s ear the awful truth as the beautiful woman leaned so confldlngly on his The hour was still afar of! when the mask should fall. . “ I am sure mamma Chetwynd is not nervous r you are, little bride. assured arm! urian is secure wherever he is.” '81” only knew the hidden meaning conveyed Mr own words. ' their brief conversation, the guests w “my left the room, to fill the comer- . music-room and upper chambers; and, excused ' to moon; y a ginng bara uch- ‘Oome, and I will assistyouto donnryour mvehnfi‘fm' I think like] . De ,1‘urian” ‘mhisrompiepdrgryngfortdejoumey eo, id'ndiy andthoughtfull ', Barbara assisted insisted on her sitting in the easy-chair while she removed the vail wreath, gloves jewels and sli pers. “ am shivering dreadfully, Bar ra. Is the all open? I wonder what makes me so 0 Y Her hands fell wearily to her side as Barbara withdrew the tiny white kids. “ N othin but nervous excitement, my dear; I sup ose a brides feel so.” An her own bridal rose up before her with a Kivgness that sent a pang shooting through her 6% I feel so uneas about Gervaise, Barbara. Why, I never heard' of such a thing as a bride- m deserting his bride so soon.” “ For a couple of hours?” Barbara laughed; Eben "added, lightly, “ perhaps it’s the ‘Curse, ear. A scream fell from Blanche’s lips. . “ Oh, no! I have not dared let myself think of that aloud! Oh, Barbara, what made you speak my own fears?” . But Barbara looked sternly at the frightened gir . “They were idle, playful words, Blanche; and I am thoroughly ashamed of you.” The tears athered in Blanche’s eyes: “ I know in childishibut something is wrong, Barbara; I feel it here. ’ She laid her hand on her breast, and then arose from her chair to exchange her white robes for the garnet velvet suit, of which one of her traveling-suits was made. Her toilet was made quickly, and then Bar- bara used before her in earnest scrutiny. “ ow beautiful you are, Blanche! peace be with on!” An then she went out from the dressing- room, swallowing a sob as she closed the heavy walnut door. In the hall she met Mrs. Chetwynd, anxious and somewhat flurried. - “Barbara, it is ve Gervaise possibly be? an hour or more.” Barbara raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Is that so? I sawhimm self lessthaaan hour ago and gave him ale r one of the ser- vants had for him.” “ You did? And where was he?” “ In the dining-room; and when he asked me for the quietest room in the house to read his letter I mentioned the observatory.” “ The observatory l” echoed Mrs. Chetwynd, with almost a sob of relief. “Of course the poor fellow has gone there to read his letter and fastened himself in-I’ve heard of the cu- rious 3 ring in the door.” She hastened off to tell Mr. Chetwynd, and tofifher they went up the stairs that led to the fam strange, but where can 0 one has seen him for room. . Chetwynd was not a second unfastcnin the door; begiressed in, followed by his wife an Barbara, an then— A horrid scream from Barbara echoed by Mrs. Chetwynd, resounded through the Chasc; with tottering tread, Mr. Chetwynd crossed the intervemng space and laid his hand on De Lau- rian’s icy col forehead. But it needed not that to tell the awful truth; for the filmy, vacant eyes, wide open in a trance 0 horror the ri d attitude had reveal- ed the fact that the first lment of the Curse had already fallen on poor Blanche’s innocent head—as she sat below, all unconscious that she was a widowed bride, wai ’ for him who would neyliii- films], to begin the dal tour they never wo 8 And Barbara Icster’s heart thrilled with wild triumph! CHAPTER XIX. . a LOST Lovica. DAY after day of that pitiful bridalseason wore away, each fraught with new grief and loneliness. The inquest had been held at Chetwynd . _ , and the verdict, substantiated by the Ominous of eminent physicians, was that Ger- vaise De Laurian had come to his death by a subaddeili attack of heart disease' d ,htp lwhich he had ‘1 oIlzlmadisposed an w'c waSimme. (“330% superinduced by the inopportune arrival g business commumcation, that at an time mis t have illy affected him. °°P1° Wm loud in the praises they bestowed “P03 the dead man’s memory; they tenderly the bereaved bride' spoke he had that howled hm‘ was a poor mm mmwedtm dmKhtfl'of thehouse version of the story, and everybody from Maine to the Pacific coast was familiar with the and facts. Then they buried him in almost royal pomp, in the family vault, that was built in a egress grove on the De Laui‘ian estate. ‘1', a new excitement followed; his execu— tor published a. card affirming that after a full and searching settlement of deceased’s affairs, it was found that but one mortgage existed— and that only to the trifling amount of eight thousand dollars, which Mr. De Laurian would have readily paid when due, which would not yet occur for severle weeks. The estate was otherwise unincurnbcrcd. Then what meant that letter the wiseacres declared had been the means of his death! Gradually, vague suspicions began to arise; the letter had been a for rcry, then, but for what purpose, and executed y whom? And somehow, no one ever knew who started it, came the impression that there had been foul lay; perhaps, after all, Mr. De Lauriaii had put out of the way; and. as there Certainly had been not a mark of violence on his person, the means used had been internal ones—in plain words, people began to believe Mr. De Laurian had been poisone . Arrangements were made to have his body removed from the vault; the arran ements were completed, and, while the oxci public were awaiting further developments. there burst on them like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the appalling news that Mr. Do Laurian’s body had been removed from the vault, and the coffin left untenantcd! Nine days of wildfire excitement; days of wonder, suspicion, distrust and indignation; and then, baffled and disappointed, the world settled down with another unsolved mystery ha ' g to its skirts. earin and heavil ' the days dragged on at Chetwynd Chase; to t c pallid girl-bride, whose pligful grief was extremiva touching to see; to stricken parents who plain] ' saw the skele— ton tin of Lady Constanzias Curse in the great b 'ght that had come upon them. But, coequal with the expressed sentiment of sympathy and 'ty for the parents and Blanche, was the one o admiration for beautiful Miss Lester, who had so openly and nobly used gory available means t0ward clearing the mys- r . Sgecretly, while she rejoiced that De Laurian had had his coveted cup dashed from him by her hands, she was worn by the sudden news that had come of the disappearance of his body from its coflin- and after wakeful nights and nervous days, had taught herself that the mi- nutest examination by the warmest friend— if any such bad abducted him in a fit of indig- nant enthusiasm— would fail to detect the faintest trace of the subtle poison ho had in- baled. Openly, she was all affection all sympath , all attention. Not enough could she seem to o for Blanche, who clun to Barbara inall this trouble like a delicate ie to the sturdy oak. Mr. Chetwynd was proud, reserved asevor seemingly de ying even the fatal legacy the had come to him, to crush him. But to Blanche he was ever most tender, most gentle, and always referred to De Laurian with an affectionate interest that the more won the girl’s broken heart. Mrs. Chetwynd, with her loving, oonflding nature felt the blow almost as keenly as Blanche did. heir tears, lamentations and prayers were daily mingled, and then Barbara, so 9 'm- thizm and pitiful, would clasp her sister n- erly in er arms and woe silently over her. Thus the days and weeks wore on, and the affair grew unimportant save to the aching hearts that were so slow in the healing. The bright May dafys came pee ing in, and they drove out occas onally, to re ieve the sad silent monotony of home, and an old cherish friend or close acquaintance would call oftener than before. And, as the merciful hands of Time poured the healing balm in their hearts, their faces grew lighter as the glorious summer days wore away, and with the gay-tinted autumn flowers came sweet laughter from Blanche’s lips that told her heart was recovering, with all the olden freshness and exuberance. : ' All this while, Roy Davenal been away from Chetwynd Chase; and again, With the au- tumn, he returned for a visit. . -. But there was a change in her ersttnme ardent lover, Barbara plainly saw. . His protestationspf affection were less fre- quently uttered, and she realized that, for some reason, her power over him—the rare, fascina- ting lnnuence she had so successfully exerted... was gradually growing law. -‘ ~— ’14 WAS SHE HIS WIFE? This knowledge terrified her; for With the mysteriously strange influences that had opera— ted upon her, Barbara had discovered that she had learned to love this noble, honestrhearted lover, with a devotion, that had she known in earlier days, would have saved many a pang. But, that was over with DOW' she had loved Do Laurian. and she had hated aswell; now for this loyal, patient lover she was fpouring out an affection born of great sorrow—o its woman- ly urity, we will not speak. Xnd so, this strange, almost im rceptible change fired her with a regretf anguish. Mighticr even than the quick, hot passion she had entertained for De Laurian—but that would have saved her had he so willed it—was this 10vk that had surged up and back, for Roy Davenal; she must center her affections on some one ; such women are doomed to love—or curse—- with their affections in a whole—souled, absorb- ing manner. And Roy—we know how for years he had rushed madly on; bewildered, infatuated with her glorious beauty. How all this change had come about, he only realized when away from the dazzling light of her eyes, and the witching sound of her voice. When with her, he was so proud that she was all his own—poor, deluded man—and, instead of breaking the meshes of the net that enslaved him, he suffered the cords to grow firmer and stron er. At ength—so sudden and sharp the rending asunder came that it terrified himself—his god- (less was dethroned, and he knew, for a fearful truth, that she was a woman whose hands were not the hands he ever should clasp at the altar. , It had happened very simply, naturally, quite in the ordinary course of ai airs—if that can be called “ordinary,” that crushes a. confidence of years and uproots a love that has grown with a man’s outh and strengthened with his strength. He read the papers ; he had learned all the particulars, and then he had grown to specula— tin on the ghastl subject. I e plainly reca led the careless lie Barbara told Blanche as she leaned on his am; he had been surprised then ; but now it were a far different aspect. He remembered of what a willful passionate nature Barbara had ever been; he knew De Laurian had had a stormy interview with her ; she admitted he had gross- I insulted her, and that she should punish him. 11 this had annoyed him from the moment he had heard of De Laurian’s death; but the in- quest had satisfied him—or rather, he had forced himself to be content therewith, and gone back to his Western home with only a sad gravity of mannil' that was naturally attributed to the distressml state of affairs. Then had come the suggestions of poison—— that had horrified him ; then the fact of the £0 ed letter; and he groaned in very anguish as t e awful suspicion would thrust itself upon him ' and when, later, he learned that the body had been stolen from its sacred resting-place he knew, for a sickening verity, that Barbara 5— ter had had the deed done to cover her own guilty tracks. It was appalling; yet what could he do? tell his honest suspicions to the world, and brand her, whom he had so worshi )ed, a murdercssl help with the hands that ha so often caressed her, to fasten the hangman’s rope around that dainty throat? He could not ; it would not ‘ bring De Laurian back, or heal Blanche Chet- wynd’s broken heart—poor poor Blanche! And then his fingers re used to pen the love— letters he was so wont to write; “a rush of business ” he told Barbara, revented long let- ters; w en he came in Ge her to Chetwynd Chase he would see her once more. Ah, little did Barbara think, as she dreamed .of and waited for his coming, that he, pacing his floor on restless, sleepless ni hts, was strug- glitng and fighting with himse f to banish the remnant of love for her. .And then, while she—this jealous and dan- gerous woman—with a heart of living flame, was countin the hours to his return, he had de- cided that w on they met again he would return her his plighted troth. CHAPTER XX. rm: TIGRESS AROUSED. UPON his return to Ch (1 Chase, earl in the fall, R0 Davenal was atifled to find ow very much 6 cloud had 1' of! the bereaved famil ; he was delighted at the warm, cheerful recep on 'ven him, and he thou ht how charm- an air lanehe’s trouble hadleft upon her— ‘ thiswinnln en girl-widow whom he did not call mi’ DegLag :15 on, but Blairche, as in the olden days. Barbara was radiant, matchlessly brilliant as ever, but Roy knew his days of blind yet blissful slavery were over forever. He had fully come to know that she was the last woman in all the world to be his wife ; and, in the six Weeks that followed his return to the Chase—those six weeks in which his devotion to Barbara radually slackened, and which Bar- bara noted—in these six breezy, delicious weeks, Roy Davenal had learned a new, strange lesson that he feared to teach Barbara. Yes, he actually dreaded telling her all the truth : he reasoned that the woman who would unhesitatingly and deliberately destroy a fellow- being for a mere personal affront—of course he did not know the depth of Barbara‘s injuries ; even had he, he was not the man to justify the murder he solemnly believed to have been com— mitted—would not hesitate at displa 'in equal morcilessncss to one who justly we (1 emand her indihnation. It was an extremely delicate affair and one that, since his sojourn at Chetviynd Chase, had own to be of reater magnitu e and more ex- ‘eme delicacy han ever. ‘ But he had fully decided that, come what would, he would kindly tell her the must part forever ; and why? Not because e believed her hands were stained with Gervaise De Lau~ rian’s blood, but that another, fair as the lily and um as the angels, had crept all unawares into is heart ° that, with the holiest, truest, calmcst love 0 which man’s heart is (a able, he had learned—first, to pity, then to ove—-— Blanche De Laurian. She had grown very dear to him in those six weeks ; she had come to be a ver star of light to his eyes— )erha s because of t e mental con- trast he could no avoid drawing between her and Barbara. He had come to learn to watch for her sweet )resence, and to gaze on her delicate, chastened ace, as the greatest delights earth held for him. Of her own heart he knew almost nothing. True, when she had caught an ardent, eloquent glance from him, her sweet brown eyes would ; roop, and a tell-tale tinge surge over her rare ace. Not a word had he lisped of this—not a hint had he given Blanche, for Roy Davenal was too noble and honorable to stoo to such a deed when his betrothal vows still bound him to Barbara Lester. But one warm, cloudy day in the middle of October, when the air was oppressive and sur- charged with electricity he resolved to seek Barbara and end the earl-ring suspense. He walked slowly to and fro on the lawn that sloped down to the river and from her room window, Barbara watch him as he walked. She had just made her toilette—a task she could perform so well—and now as she stood be- fore her dressing-bureau to 've the last finish- ing touches, she wondered Roy would admire her in that dress; and whether she could not win from him a warmer love-protest than :he had listened to for so long. Her dress was very elegant—~11 thin silk n- adine of intensest black over whose groun was embroidered a gracefu vine in rose-pink and gold-colored silk, from which at intervals, de- )0!)de a bundle of golden grapes and a leaf of efi'uu% md' d ostl dr rticul i be- issm aran c y ess ar came her, and R0 had beforga the white arms and nee which the sheer folds but half concealed. She fastened the filmy lace collar with a large cluster diamond pin, and hung rings of the same glittering gems in her little pink ears. The f0 ds of the lace curtains dra around her as she sat down, and looked on u 11 her lover, wondering at the brightness of is face as he bowed to some one below. Ever jealous of his favor, she leaned out to see who was there ; her brow darkened, and she grossed her lips angrily together as she saw, lushing, yet confused and retiring, Blanche De Laurian. Barbara’s ick, jealous eyes perceived how surpassin 1y air she was, her unrelieve‘d white dress flea ing around her and over the velvety grass, and her lovely golden hair arran ed hi over the forehead and in lon ,thick our 8 at t a back. She saw the costly et ornaments that lent a beaut of their onto her flushed face, and the anguishful thought thrilled her—would, could Blanche Sll)plant her in Boy Davenal’s affections—she, w 0 had once before blighted every hope she held clear? If she should! and the flash of defiance in her eyes denoted the light in which she dre- gard‘ such interference. Just then, she was summoned to the parlorI Mr. Davenal would be pleased to see her. The frown disappeared, and she immediatel went down to the parlor, both hands extend in, and her eyes beaming, a lad welcome. “I am so glad, Boy, you ave sent for meta come down. I was Just wishing to see on.” He suffered her to lead him to the sofa, and then, when he had seated himself, she drew a hassock to his feet, and seating herself, leaned her elbow on his knee. ' He did not yet speak; he was scrutinizing her varying features. “Have you no reeting for me, Roy?” She murmured is name in tones of liquid tan- derness, as she raised her 9 es to his. . “ I surely neglected my uty if I failed to do so.” The tones, though courteous, were decidedly distant, and she instantly perceived it. . “ Roy—what have you come to tell me? Why do ou speak so formally to me? Are you wit me, dearest? Have I offended you? have, you can punish me no more severely than by bein so stern.” “ I di not mean—that is, I did not think on would care,” returned Roy, hedtathregily, or, now that the time had come, he dread arous- ing her tem r. . . ‘ But I 0 care, Roy, darling. How could it be otherwise when I ove word you utter goes straig t to my heart, and is never forgotten?” Her voice was low, and under her half-veiled lids, Davenal noted the Witching tenderneu of her 6 es. “ ou1will pardon me, Barbara, if I am com- pelled tospeak as I would not speak? I would gladly s e on the emotions you must expe- rience w on Iytell you what I dare not dela to keep from you. Be ready to hear bad ti which wound me while they wound you.” An amazed exprewion on her face that to , ered when he began speakm' g, gave way a triumphant smile; and she leaned her head ressingly on his hand. _ “ Roy, how could you frighten me so! I thought on were going to tell me you had ceased to ove me; for that is the only news that would wound me.” He shivered as he heard her words. . “ But suppose that were the news I had to communicate?” Like a lightning-flash she sprung from her low ' seat her e es lowm‘ g with excitement. “ Then (1 nlzurder you, Roy Davenal!” “ Barbara— No! cannot listen to such lan- guage I will leave you till you are calm.” He arose and bowed coldly. “ Noi—stay, I will be calm. Stay, Roy, and tell me what it is I must bear. For your sake I will be calm.” . As by magic, her anger died away under the swift-returmn tide of love. Reluctantly e resented himself; and when she laid her warm t g fingers on his he wondered how he could tell her. He piti her at that moment from the bottom of his heart. “It is vain to desire to recallthe past,”‘ho began, “ yet I linger before I deCIde the future. » Our future, Barbara, is not what we have both dreamed and hoped it would be. We th ht it would be a lifetime together Barbara, t I have learned it will be better for you, better for me apart.” ‘IApartl” she echoed, striking her hands to gether and letting them fall heavily to his knee. “ What do you mean, Re i” i for each other; not “ I mean we are not sui . a life together. V You! as we should be to understand Barbara ’ _ He looked earnestly, yet kindly at her. , Her eyes were shining _w1th a fearful fire. Her bosom rose and fell in ' billowc; and she clasped and unclasped or hands in ne‘rvxcgus ,agitation. es. . That was all she said, but he heard how husky hm; Rice wigs' th well Barbara, ‘ ere 8.110 or reason as , why I feel compelled to speak thus plainly. Ban on surmise it?” . “ on love another?” ' . Her voice continued husky and low, but, there seemedasuffocatinlgagonymherwordluthey fell from the red faltered. Roy’s face brightened. After all, she must have discovered his love for Blanche. ’ “Barbara, you have spoken it. I loyg an. other, and beg you to release we frommy your: on. . ‘Whoisthisotheri” '_ ‘f ou so; when every . 83“!- ' ca- ' pa that neither quivede . r ., " . ,_ ,x. . ,_..q:...; v . 4'9. ' ._.'_,_.'_23§5...-,;i .:‘:-:w w L.‘ .. \ f1 14, b >‘l 3i ' \ 55'. -._._" ‘34,}. at”); \ ‘.. \ ‘K'nyour d ' hall sufi‘ for Blane e hetwynd, you 8 er ruined ev . 4-34. WAS SHE HIS WIFE? 15 Her unv tone her sci'ntn'llant eyes, did not pave the way for the answer; yet he spoke it, bravely. “ If I wound you Barbara, I be your r- don;”but I must tell you she is rs. De u- n. She started as if stung by a hornet. Her face , her eyes seemed starting from her head; 'th outstretchacll arms ind motionles; form shg bearing 9 first son agony o a secon m love. ‘Bhuchei” she repeated, in a strange, far- mfi tone, then bowed her pale face to her “ Barbara, you suffer so? I am not worth it, indeed I am not. Do forgive me, Barbara.” He touched her hair with his pitying fingers but she sprung like a tigress from under it, and ' ed in contemptuous wrath. “Never never, so help me all the powers of Hades! or 've you, poor, weak, pitiful fool! Never while its lasts and memory can perform her office, or revenge do her work!" She stood aloft from him, ‘as if his touch were contamination. Desperate, enraged, mortified that it was not the first time she had been cast aside and both times for the same woman! “ do Mr. Davenal, and remember I swear to settle this account between us. I swear to make you rue this day the hour when you dared set aside the love of arbara Lester!” . And she swept past him like some destructive tempest. , CHAPTER XXI. A. MASKED HEART. Tar. sound of Blanche’s light footsteps up the front stairs had not escaped Barbara’s quick ears during that interval with Davenal; and now, as she swept on from the room, it was to seek Blanche. She was sitting alone in her own room, her cheeks ust tinted with a rare, sweet flush that was called there by the ardent look Mr. Davenal had Elven her as he came by; in a halfdrcamy Who 3’ delicxous state, she sat there, alone and quiet, not carin what it was tha thrilled her so. She started as she heard hara’s rap on the door, and half-reluctantly said “ Come in.” "l‘learbaral” e name fell from her 1i in a screa f fear, and well it might, forp: vision metnhgr eyes that would have alarmed any one, bara was in a state of highest excitement. The frenzy of fury causedb Roy Davenal’s announcement was, 115 1906311) 0: augmented b the sight of this fair, guilelcss girl who had this 331"“ to inquire of bar own heart time wrought such desolation to her Empurpled with race, her red lips apart she Strode directly to BIanche, and stoo ing’near 1191', so that her‘breath‘flamed on her air face, a question in her ear._ “ What have you been domg?” Blanche turned a shade paler for a second, at 6 threatening face and manner. “ What have you done I say! Tell me, or by 811 the powers of evil, I’ -—” n A terrified little cry burst from Blanche’s 9.? 0h, Barbar oufri hten me! Don’t, ra do“, any g i1 y Sheraised her hands deprecatingly as if to Ward 03 a coming blow. _ . " Don’t what, you coward, you vile, deceitful Woman! Do you mean I shall not brand you With your infamous treachery your robbe of du )licity? l3 anche De u- She paced the floor in front of.Blanche, Whose white hands were nervously wringing. ‘YGS, Blanche Chetwynd, you have crossed my path the second tune! Twice you have hope I had, and now Satan help we I dec , and you shall prove my words, , trouble shall come to 'ou for this! There lave been those before u. who have learned the umitterable woe of mnfiemy pat . laugh followed r words, as she A . Blaziche’s quivering lips. am sure you are insane to utter find to me, who can answer in the 08 that I have not wro you. 5381115 to hurt you, 1 ow it Wflladmit you do not love Roy A bright flush'o “I shall not de it; Hugh" cheeks. on as me. love for him bars." ‘ shall not take A‘sneerfng smile curled Barbara’s lips. “ Oh, no, you will not because he himself has told me he as no further need of my friend- shi . You have not led him on, then?” er bitin ly sarcastic words only made Blanche the mer in her truthful denial. “God knows I have been strugglin against this love for weeks, never dreaming i was re— turned. If Mr. Davenal seeks me, that is not me who breaks your heart.” Very calm and unim 'oned the fair girl stood before the flush , jealous woman, who seemed maddened anew as the name of her loved one met her ears. “You lie, a false, Satanic lie, Blanche Chet< I d! Davenal was true to me, true as steel, ti you came like a snake, gliding between! and another— ut for this sin of yours, remem- ber vengeance shall follow sure and swift-foot- ed as Time itself. Since oy Davenal chooses you before me, he and his chosen one shall learn my [Ewen else I shall never open my mouth to s _ the solemn truth again! Then, when you ( rain to the last dregs your cup, you will know ilOVVX]; have mixed it in an hour of outraged ove ’ Mr. Davenal had formally nested the hand of Blanche De Laurian from er parents, ex- plaining,” delicately as he could, the ch nge in his Views concerning Barbara. The het- Wynds had, of course, been surprised, but after consideration and consultation with their wid- owed child, bestowed her hand, in engagement, upon him. They were very happy, those lovers, whose sole fear was that Barbara would, in some man- ner, destroy their happiness. R0 did not fear so much for himself as for Blane e. At times Blanche would be nervous and agitated, and not Without cause for whenever she and Bar- bara were alone, arbara would grow enraged and passionate, while inthe presence of Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynd and Roy, she invariably main- tamed a subdued mien that won their sym ath , while it was deceptive in the extreme. Blane e had never told her parents of Barbara’s threats, for she was constantly hoping this insanity as she honestly regarded it, would wear ofl’. She would scarcely have mentioned it to Roy, ex- cept that he uestioned her so closely that she could not well1 avoid it. Three weeks more after this stormy interview between Barbara and Roy, and Barbara and Blanche rolled on, and Roy lingered at Chet- Wynd hase, loth to depart, yet unwilling to longer accept the warm invitations that were keeping him awa from his business. Barbara made it her especial duty to endeavor to persuade him to stay; and when, one early winter’s afternoon, he announced his intention of departing by the mornin train, Barbara’s heart gave a burst of triump that the moment had come at last when she might crush his sweetheart in the folds of her Jealous an r. She hated Blanche with an awful hatredfifei marriage with De Laurian had made her thor- qu hly dislike her while her main wrath had lig ted on his head. But when, for the second time, this golden-headed, brown-eyed girl had crOssed her ath, she swore to remove her from it With as 1i tle compunction asshe had removed De Laurian. But she her part to play toward lulling suspiCion Davenal might entertain after her Wi d threats. So that same eveninfilshe sought the lovers, who she knew were in e drawing—room. Their low murmuring voices reached her before she saw them. “ Bab lsheto win him, who wore the willow for anot er not a twelve-month ago! And he— yes he loves her. ” She ground her white teeth together; then, by aTEreat effort, smoothed her brow. “ is Will not do. I must drive this dark cloud_from my face, and the scorn from my lips, if not from my heart I have a t; work to accomplish—yes, two deeds to pe orm er%long.’j l . tab sod or a sm 6 momen e u , ressin her stilluilts loud) hands over er heart to throb mg; for with all her jealous , her d rateness, she could not repress those eart-bea that told her she was steepin her already guilty soul stm dee r in crimes abym. m ith gliding, graceful tread she approached 0 two. Davenal bowed, and Blanche cl closerto hisarmassheem edto - smileagree . . With a soft smfle of her own, Barbara ex. tended her hands. “Blane e—Roy—I am come a ,penitent to you to grant.” the forgiveness I know you \ \ was angry. Lwant to be revenged, but I solemnly Vow, I a . . ‘ . . ‘ {Ln-wawamta . we .- .r. .’ She looked deprecatingly at Roy, whose brow Wesvsmm'n fl (1 h ged R hangsvd1 b ‘ 011m 11 mecan ,0 c trouble,” she said, sweetly and saydly. “ eh I learned the truth from your lips that day I was overcome beyond the strength of my will toendure; for that display of passion I have come, before you leave us, to beg pardon.” Her eyes were cast down in son‘owin humil- ity, and not the faintest semblance of t 9 she was so consummater playing was visib e on her face. R0 7 bent a keenly searching look 11 n her. “1011 have threatened most fear ul things, Barbara, against this innocent girl. You re— member them?” Not a tremor of the inward rage she felt was visible; she listened apparently unmoved, then looked up in a sad, quiet way. “ I do remember to my sorrow and re t, and it is for those very threats, wicked an in- sane as they were, that I ask you for the third time, to forgive me. Blanche, you havea lov- ing heart, you will accord the pardon Mr. Dav- enal withholds?” Barbara laid her hand on Blanche’s shoulder. “Gladly, Barbara, and I know Roy will not be proof against our united petitions. She smiled her free forgiveness to Barbara, and then took Itov‘s hand in hers. “There, Roy, Barbara, we will all be good friends, true friends again. Although I know Barbara must ever regard me as an intruder be- tween you two, still, as long as Roy desired it, and Barbara will forgive it, I will forget it, and we will all be happy.” Roy pressed her and; then, though ver dis- tantly, accepted Barbara’s hesitatingly o cred one. “ Roy, while you retain my hand I shall tell on a secret and claim 'our congratulations. 0 one but Mr. and Mrs. ‘hetwynd knows of it, and Blanche will be as su )rised as you. It is this: To—day, in a letter rom Germany, from Rex Chetwynd to his uncle, there was one in- closed, as usual, for me; but not as usual, a mere friendly, gossipy letter. It contained, y and Blanche, an offer of marriage from Rex Chetwynd, subject to his relatives wishes. I cannot say I love your cousin, as I have loved, and I told your parents so; but I know him to be a man who will make me a good husband, and I shall accept. This is the ring he sent me to wear if I consented.” There was no enthusiain in her voice; only a quiet, proud consciousness as she 1pointed. to the heavy golden circlet, over VVthl Blanche ut- tered an exclamation of astonished delight. Roy bowed again, while a genuine smile of joy crossed his face. “ You have my sincere congratulations, Bar- bara—as a sister and a cousin. ’ “Yes, indeed!” echoed Blanche, delightedly. “Barbara, dear, you are just the woman to wear the honors of the house of Chetwynd— on, so regal and beautiful. I am so glad; may Bod make you as happy in Rex’s love as I am in Roy’s.” Neither of them saw the half—scornful, half- derisive curl of Barbara’s lip as Blanche bent to kiss her fingers for Roy was too much rejoiced and relieved when he learned of her betrothal. He little knew that at that very moment the cloud was lowering and darkening around him with tenfold intensity; little recked fair Blanche of the tragedy so soon to be enacted. “ Then I may consider my pardon sealed?” “Signed, sealed and delivered, Barbara; and in token wliereunto—” ‘ In an impulse of im rudent enthusiasm be bent and kissed her chee Light] , it is true, but his touch sent the blood boun ' through Barbara’s veins. But she accepted the caress with a grave bow. At that moment, Mrs. Chetwynd called from the ad 'oining room for Blanche a moment; and, urged y an impulse he could not control, Roy su denl laid his hands on Barbara’s arms. “ Barbara, this would be the happiest hour of my life, if I only knew that you were as igno- rant as I of Gervaise De Laurian’s whereabouts -—his sudden deat. .” He looked almost beseechin ly in her dispas— sionate eyes that suddenly and un ly as gligéluestion had come, never blended or trem- “I know? 0h, Ro ,can it be possible you, ever thought I knew? _ She was apparently almost stunned by the cruel suspicion. ' . “ How could/I help it? your angegwith him—- sheinterrupted' “I see now how ‘ itlooked t6 you. Roy, 1’ 0 .. p i ' later, and one ' tedmem ‘16 that m vengeance was sulperseded by one over which had no control. know I was passion- ate—but not to murder—not to murder! 0h, ROT‘RBIIOW could you think it?” tears were standing in her eyes now, so truthful and clear. . He drew a long, deep breath of exquisite re- hef. “ Thank God! I believe you, and you are her sisterl” She accepted both his eagerly 1proffered hands, and as she bent over them, a ow cry of rage burst from her lips. “ Because I am her sister!” she fairly hissed. u- CHAPTER XXII. 'rnn SIGN. Tm: next morning R0 Davenal left Chet- w‘ynd Chase, and the fa y settled down once more in quiet, until the time should came when arrived from German?“Y and took up his permanent residence at the ‘hase. He was expected by 5 ring, and now, since he was to marr Barbara ster, the Chetwynds seemed to love er more and better than before, Birmicularly Blanche, between whom and Bar- a anew love had sprung up, and new ties been established. Latterl . since her engagement with Rex, Barbara ad grown gensive and thoughtful, and Mrs. Chetwynd attrr uted it to the fact that she was not in love with her aflianced husband, and Would tell her the love would come, must come, when she was the wife of a man so perfect as her no how Rex. gm. candid] admitted that she had re- ceived a severe b ow when Ro Davenal had deliberatel given her p; but t e keen, sting— ing agony ad given p e to a dumb pain of refignation, which she thought, in turn, would 've place to her old-time exuberance of irits. d, although there was ever a quiet air ng— ing over her, it seemed as though those winter days at Chetwynd Chase were fra ht with a sweeter peace and joy than any the had ever preceded them. ‘ ' Chetwynd would stroke Blanche’s old-brown hair, and look earnestly in her bright, happyheyes as if to the more as- sure himself that e Curse was inreality ac. $mfilished; and there was nothing more to ca . Mrs. Chetwynd usually coincided with her husband in his opinion on the subject, but the girls would ridicule the idea of it, and Blanche sternl denied that De Laurian’s death on her bri day had any thin whatever to do with Lady Constanzia’s anat ema. It had been a decree of Providence, she said, and though her bright eyes would sadden momentarily at the memory, a thought of Roy would dispel it at once. ‘ Letters from Rex were dated nearer and nearer Liverpool, towhich place of sailing he was slowly traveling by rail from Letters from Roy were so hopeful and c eer— ful; he had arranged for a transfer of his busi‘ ness to New York, so that after their marriage he and Blanche, as well as Barbara and Rex, would all live at the Chase. . The future was so bright and beautiful to them all—but one. No one dreamed that sor- row and anguish Would yet tear their heart- strin to fragments, but she who would work it -—-she to whom a betrothed husband was coming, who was so soon to Wear the bridal favors. Already the da had been appointed—— Blanche’s birthday, or twentieth—and on the seventeenth of April the double wedding was to occur. ' The trousseau was rapidly preparing; and the,entire household had given themselves dig to the joyous excitement ever incident to wed ng p rations. I was still earl in March when Roy came ,from the West, an was not permitted to make his home away from Chetwynd Chase; a week blustery, rainy night, when m- doors seemed like a piece of enchanted ground, in walked Rex‘ Chetwynd, bronzed and bearded, andas handsome as an A 110. . , Althou h four years h passed since Barbara had seen he walked u to her at once, and took her in his arms, an kissed her on her blushing cheeks and smiling mouth, and then turned and ted affectionately the other de- m of the circle, and atonce win- Roy Davenal byhisfrank, winning man- '/.,ner. The family circle was now complete, and the sspedonasifshodwith o ‘ , fau'y shoes, n1 , ,mdgked bathe worshipful adoration Rex Che WAS SHE HIS WIFE? wynd daily developed for the bright, glorious woman who would so soon be all his own. The ceremonies of this double wedding were to be solemnized in a manner worth the wealth and social position of all parties; a ter the wed- ding Rex and Barbara were to pass a month at Washington and further south, while Roy and Blanche were to go West. A life of gayety and brightness seemed open- ingu to the entire party and of Barbara, es- pecially were fairest prophecies uttered when she would become the Wife of the youngest of the Chetwynds. It was only when alone that Barbara often wondered if the fates would' smile on her wed— ding mom; and she would spread out her fault- less hands and look at them, and smile as she remembered that the had been employed in a work that stained t em forever in guilt—a , and would ere long, be colored deeper still wi h crime‘s red dye. The morning of the wedding-day dawned beautifully clear and bri ht; one of those rare days in early spring, w en capricious April wears her bluest skies and balmiest breezes. The family were scattered about in their rooms, preparing for the event; only the two brides e cct were together. Barbara had gone into Blanche’s room, and, Chad in a dressin -wrapper, with her jetty-black hair streaming ar down over her shoulders, was talking and laughing with Blanche. “ You are always done with gear packing - fore I am, I verily believe, arbara. ow here are all my laces and kids to be stowed away in their boxes, and I can’t trust Corinna to do them. Barbara, dear, if you only would, so I can rest a minute.” “I’ll do them, of course,” returned Barbara, quietly. “ Here’s Corinna; fix your hair— where’s the box, Blanche? I’ll take them to my room.” She gathered up the delicate trifles and closed the connecting door after her. She laid the filmy collars and gloves on her dressing—bureau, and then, with noiseless tread and cautious hand, locked both the doors—the one o nin into the hall, the other connecting with lanc e’s room. Almost imperceptibly a smile of repellent lbeauty crept to her eyes, and a curl of scorn to er ips. She imlocked a. tiny drawer in her bureau, and took from it a small crystal vial, with a rubber stopper. Then she hoisted both windows, and delibe- rately tied a folded handkerchief so that her mouth and nostrils were covered. U n each love, u n each collar she sprin- kle several ops o the colorless 'quid; her eyes shining in frightful weirdness as they looked out mm between the hea , clin ' g masses of hair, and above the ghos y ban around her mouth. This mysterious deed done, she replaced the rubber-stopper, returned the vial to rts drawer, locked it, and re laced the key. , She went to e window, and, snatching the handkerchief from her face, leaned far out, and inhaled deeply of the fresh, cool air. When she returned, the dro on the articles had completely dried, and 16 not the faintest race Carefully she, arran them in the oma— mented box and cl the lid. “There, Blanche Chetwynd, is your reward for stealing from me my two lovers! Little will you think when you wear those dainty loves. hat their touch is fatal, or that the cost co - lars that look so fair around your white throat are no less death-dealing) than the hangman’s noose! Yes, my bonny ride, it will be slow, but sure—sure as my hate!” She unlocked the doors, and took the horrible package to the grateful girl, and then com- menced her own re rations, unassisted by save her own . ef fingers. beautiful in her an . She was firfiiidlyéeradiantly . trailing bri ro of bee. , lusterlem silk; the coronet of orange blooms olding the My vail over her shining hair. Her toilette made, she crossed from her room to one immediatel opposite, where the bridal gifts were display —e glittering array of cost- y love-tokens. At the door a! maid-servant was in attend ance, who handed her a tiny, sealed packa with the request from -the donor to open it Q fore the ceremony. Filled with natural curiosity, she returned to her room to examine the content!» . . Suddenly a low, agonized cry fell from her lips—the pac contained abroken opal, with the mysterious ‘ D, ” and the semi-chain! L A cord faintness crept over her, and a gray shadow came around her tense lips' her heart seemed risin , rising to her throat, threatening tosufi‘ocate er. ‘ This fearful token, promised by one who had died under her hand! Heavens! was alive, then, and on her trackl She sprung wildly from her chair, and paced the floor in intensest agitation. Then she seized a flask of some rare, pungent licgid, and moist- ened her lips, that were blue very deathli~ ness. . She bathed her clammy forehead and cold wrists, while slowly the color returned to her pallid face, and her heart’ ceased its dreadful Jerking throbs. Perhaps for twenty minutes she sat there, and then she pushed away the aromatic perfume, and rose to her feet. “I will not be threatened by him! I defy hightothe Instill; f tste fth bridalch e approac oo o e were heard, and 8she hadpsbarely time to drop the ominous token in her bosom, ere Chet- wynd opened the door, and she saw the party complete save herself. .. Accepting Rex’s arm, she swe t grandly down to the im rlors, and, amid t e quiet and im- ressive so emnity that reigned, the two beauti- ul women were married. It was a moment of happinem, even to Bar- bapfit‘aonly she.felt the j bow m o no pressrng against er m, a some avengin , stealthy hand, whose ruinous power she coul not avert. CHAPTER XXIII. THE STAR THAT WENT OUT. THE month of absence,passed rapidlytothe pairs who were whiling away their time in the enjoyment of travel, and the last of Ma , Chetwynd Chase was in 0 or to receive 0 bridal again. MLCfi'ty dhadhadtwosuitesofroomson. the second oor entirely refurnished ' one in simr anal billue fol:- the use gdmjgsznd rim t‘91,)”- e ,an teoter,situa op on the western side of the mansion, uphdmred in scarlet and gold, for Rex and Barbara. I The drawmg-room had been beautifled anew byago c andcurtains,sothatBar- bare 003d not bu see, when she returned, how dearshewas tethem aswifeof Regand mis- trem of Chetwynd Chase. She had come bglclk as radiand t and beagfiitiful as ever, eyes an carrying ‘ca ve all hearts ; w e Blanche, dear ttle brown- eyed Blanche— Well, Rory said she had not seemed well since they le t horn She was nervous and dgespondent at intervals, and so easily 0 Her cheeks had sunk in a little, too during that month of absence that made it all the more perceptible to her mother’s anxious eyes. She was. not ill she said, only she felt so 10- verish, and, as y said, so easily fatigued. She ate quite well, and slept well, but there was a conscious diminution of vitality that could not be mistaken. The very choicest port wine was ordered heir to drink by her hysician, and daily exercise in the open air ; enty of music and merriment, and othing must worry or annoy. Every (1 she and Barbara drove out in their elegant li e pony phaeton ; of evenings, there were social parties at the Chase, boating on the river, and moonlight croquet oaths lawn. Still, despite her care, her tomes, her cheerful companionship, it was patent to every one mg Mrs. Davenal was going into a decline—one those sure, slow-creeping, insidious diseases are so common among, and fatal to, America's women. Then, in the home circle at Chetwynd Chan was whispered a [ancious secret ; perhaps, when the first g owers came to celebrate til anniversary of the wed ' , they would the (k to welcome Blanche’s first- m; then, thoph . sician said, she might gow strong and & again. A t, sweet ope up among w them; the ewas coming, thogait they,whcn ‘ Blanche would be herself again, w on th would reecho with mirth and joy baby voice prattlo in glee. All thought these thoughts, .and hopes, and she knew no mortal own could “(films fearful drain that wasallthew e makingupon Blanche aven- al’s fair young life. ,x , f‘Tws'cc dcsertedlbyherl Thatwu Barby raChetwynd’stallsmanthatkeptthe ' ’ core of revenge V to flame heat; _ :whilehervoicewaslowand wither oyster:- /. _.,..-' 2,33‘.‘ 13,‘ ,_,.~ (.2? r‘ .* H \ De Laurial‘ ' edges of that " hal::1das\1w'eet' We“ ‘ friar‘fi I; a *5. 35—.» 1.4.. ~73, -.. “.m’.‘ : new . 1‘. ; .ez'fs V)‘ w - - 1“ ‘spflns l. WAS SHE, HIS WIFE? ‘17 der and steadily able destruction. It was soul-harrowing—that this guilclcxs woman, who had loved Barbara so, and “'lln now, of all the dear ones, turned to her most naturally for affection and confidence, should sympathetic, the hands were stretclu r. fort in ceaselem, vigilant, unquenclr be Egi on, and on, powerless, to her doom; has n , mother, father cousin, friends, all un- consciously chcrishing the treacherous SCl‘)C‘llt in their bosoms, never dreaming its death-deal— ing fangs were robbing them of what they held nearest, dearest, best. Allthese days—and even more kindly as the creeping lan uor strengthened into marked de~ bilit , and anche kept her chair in the most con ortable nook, almost from morning till figfit, Barbara was so attentive, so tenderly n . It was a touching picture—that of Blanche, as she reclined so weariedly in a large, cushioned easy-chair, her face more beautiful than ever in Its wan, spirituallc )allor ; her bright, sunny brown hair, that hm been cut short when the first of those terrible headaches made their ap— Real-once, curling in loose, wavy i'iir's around or forehead. and just touching the little ears, and. the fair throat. Her hands were thin, and she often showed gamma how loose her wedding-ring was getting Hours and hours the two young married ladies would sit together, talking, generally, about the one subject that engrossed so much of Blanche‘s conversation, certainly all her thoughts. Dainty little garments, fashioned with tender fingers and tasteful skill, would be often seen on her 11:53, and at times, her trembling hands would listlesst down among the plum lace and 60ft muslins, as if the never couli complete their task, sweet thou it was. .' So the shadow br ed and brooded; little by little the silver lining faded from the edges of the cloud, and when, one day, Blanche told Roy she could not go down to dinner it seemed as if the flat hadgone forth—Blane 0 would never bri’fihten their family circle again. ' ere was ever a pensive sadness over Chet- W'ynd Chase new; the doctors came and went, andthook their heads when Barbara implored, With in her eyes and a voice choked with emotion, asked them if they couldn’t, if they wouldn’t help Mrs. Daveilal. Mrs. Clietwynd ireatly stricken, while Roy would not ad— t e probability of her early death. 9 fought against the knowledge that was creeping over him: be resisted against the slow conwction of his bright, bonny Blanche fading away, away before his eyes. But there came a day early in the Mastering was mit H , days when Blanche did not arise from her bed; and then the attending physicians said her life would, in all human probability, go out wh‘en the month died. was an exceptional case of decline, they agreed, although not entirely rare. Blanche had no cough no pain, no hectic flushes; only that unbearable sensation of weakness and ebb- ing strength and vitality. he knew she would die—almost a mother and still never to look in her baby‘s eyes; she was viog calm and peaceful, even to the end, and dim one still, starry night, just as the clock in t : observatory struck twelve, with her little th.n arm around Roy’s neck in a painfully tight embrace, and a hand clasped in her weeping mother’s. _ .‘Her last smile was on Barbara, and then, so ‘ Violent was her grief, that Rex led her away hxfntghets;le$g chamber of death. r e .t gust of grief had died awa , Barbara insisted upon performing for Mrs. Dal:— enal those last sad oflices; those little attentions ' that possess such an unspeakable an ruish in the (101:? as we realize how grateful, ow gentle W0 (1 have been the thanks of the one who now lies so still, so unconscious of our soft touches, all deaf to our passionate cries, and dumb to our prayers. . ‘ But Barbara brushed the clinging hair, that seemedtooaress her fin ers; she placed the tube- m and geranium lea between the marble tin- gei‘l, and tenderly leaned the beautiful head. on one side on its me satin pillow. ‘ ‘ I . With till-lat, refln ceremony, they buried her an the family vault, and then they returned to \ that inexpressibl sad 1 a. I I. y , p ace-the home—after v CHAPTER XXIV. I A amen mom’s wonx. Bmw stairs darkness anddunbroken silence are: tome at Chetwyn , their chamber. Mr. and Mn, Chet. I . wynd were alone, suffering together for their irreparable loss. . In the room that had been Blanche’s Roy Davenal walked the floor in a g a n of sorrow that could find no relief, while? Rex (Jhetwynd strove to console him. In her dressing-room Barbara had had the outer shutters tightly closed, and the 'heavy damask curtains drawn within. Brilliant lamps burned on her dressing—bureau, and Bar- bara herself stood before the mirror arranging her hair with quiet precision. Presently there came a low, cautious ta on her door that elicited from her a quick, su ued reply. “ Yes, Regina. It is you?” “It’s Regina,” was the answer, in the same low, muflled tone; and then Barbara opened the door, and admitted her dressing—maid. She was a tall, sallow—skinned, bushy—haired wo- man, with thin, hard li that looked as if they never could give or ta e a kiss; eyes that were small and intensely black, with an expression of merciless cruelty and shrewd cunning com- bined in them. Altogether an ill—favored person, but one who had been proved to be an invaluable ser— yant at Chetwynd Chase, particularly to Bar- )ara. Regina. came forward with an assured, half- faniiliar manner that would have insured her dismissal from the room had her mistress been other than Mrs. Rex Chetwynd. But Barbara nodded, then turned again to her task of arranging her hair. “ You sent for me. Is it about Mrs. Davenal? for I’m all read for—” “Hush-—-’sh—— ina; your voice is so loud and shrill. Don‘t orget walls have ears.” “That is so; I’ll remember.” Barbara hastily wound her hair round her head before she replied. “ Yes, Regina, it’s about Mrs. Davenal. You say every thing is in readiness? then I will go on a tour of ins tion.” Regina took from the bureau one of the ' ver and crystal lamps, and preceded Bar as they silently left the room, Barbara locking her dog"3 afterlher. h h f gina edt ewa \i t reeflightso staurs,‘ and into the observatycriryg Regina set down the lamp on the center-ta- ble, and went across the room to the side near— est ;3133 flight of stairs by which they had as- cem e . She carefully felt along the wainscot; then suddenly pressmg hard against the spot she had been seeking for and found, the panel sp away to the floor, revealing a short flight 0 steps, leading directly up, apparently to the roof of the observatory. Up these steps the two women went, when, instead" of ending 11 n the roof they termina- ted at a door that gina unloeked with a key from her trimk, and admitted them into amom the size of the conservatory below, but of much lower ceiling. It Was a room of whose existence at Chet- wynd Chase no soul knew exce t Barbara and her ally- whose discovery had 11 made in a remarkably accidental manner by Barbara months before, and who had then resolved what use she should make of it. From the ex- terior of the Chase, the room was su posed to be merely an extension of theobserva ry roof- ing to give a more imposing hight to the struc- ture. There were no windows in the wall; but a. large iron-grated skylight lighted it from the roof. The room was comfortably furnished for a bedroom, and as Barbaaa ragged, allise cast ap a rovin lance aroun . russe , “Rita, bull Etill whole, covered the floor $21331— stead, very plain, but as comfortable and neat as hands could make it; a dressmg-stand, cov- ered with a linen wwa; ‘1 OPE-11‘; 318-1‘8‘9, Wen- cushioned rocking—chair, with a. foot-rest; a washstand, with a set of white stone china, and a. little stand, whereonJB-xa 300k OatWO, and a basket containin sew1 imp 9111811 - Over the skylig tna light W113“ curtain had been fastened, to hide e prison-like look its iron grating outside gave “1.9 room} 8- thiCk reen damask screen, “‘1 mm 311d Erase rolls, was amifif‘d to be drawn at pleasure. “I hope it suits . Chetwynd, for I have had my hands well emplof'pd in getting all these things here Without he p and unobserved.” “It suits admirably, and is much more com- fortable than I thought it would be. It really is quite a pleasant room. Rem” ‘ You see I could not manage for any fire, Mrs. Chetwynd. as there isnochimney.anda I stove nmnfng through the ‘ ht would at- tract attention. There’s msyi‘ylifile gas-stove, though, that I make my tea with in m own room She might have that here ' the weather gets more Settled. It’ll be warm enough soon.” “ Perhaps you had better bring it in tonight, and then every thi is in perfect readiness. Have you the key with you—the key of the vault? If so, we may as well go now as wait later, and, indeed, an hour ma makes. great difference. Bring my waterproo and get yours and the other, and let us go out by the servants’ entrance. Regina, you are sure the maids are all to bed?” “I know they are; there is not a soul in the house awake who will leave their rooms to- night—unless Mr. Rex does. _ y, as Mr. Davenal wished him tore- main in his room. Come.” Like two restless irits the two women, clothed in their long b k cloaks, glided rapid- ly and noiselessly through the dimly-1i hted, narrow corridor that was only used by t e serv vants to reach their bedrooms. At the end of this silent, gloomy hall, a flight of stairs, equally narrow and gloomy, led down to a small back porch, adjoining the kitchen piazza. It was only a step from this to a thick of syringa trees; and once behind that, no vigi- lant Watcher from Chetwynd Chase could have seen these women as they glided along, toward the river’s edge. . It was only a walk of about ten minutes to the low marble vault of the Chetwynds that was built at the extreme edge of the estate. Regina had no difliculty in fittiniaghe iron key in the gmderous lock, while Bar a push- ed against t e heavy door. A deathly, dank, chill air rushed out, that sent cold, creeping shivers over them, yet boldly Barbara entered, holding her lantern that she had carried concealed under her cloak, so that its dull ra illuminated a. way for her, and walked u Blanche Davenal’s casket. There 6 lay, the fair, pale lily, just as they had left her, hours before. With a steady hand Barbara took the key from Regina and crashed in the glass that cov- ered Blanche, as far dewn as her waist. “ Now Be ' help me lift her out, andwrap the cloak aroun her. We have not a. moment to spare—for I can detect a slight warm mois- ture upon her face. She will revive fullyin fem than an hour.” They had no trouble in removing from {war coffin the ' ht form, and ping closely around it the eavy, mnfll' cl Regina and Bar carried her caret y out, and after securingthedoora ' an cone ' t elim- tern, they easily Blanche and ned homeward. It seemed as if the very fates of evil were with them that night, for they reached the Chase in perfect security, and in silence and safety carried their unconscious burden to the secret chamber that had been prepared for it: reception. Regina carefully disrobed the resurrected girl of the satin grave-clothes, and removed the still blooming, fragrant flowers from the nerve- less hands. A warm suit of flannel was put on her, then one of her own nigh , , she was cov. ered u in the bed to await the doom, far worse than oath, that the sleepless vengeance of Bar- bara Chetwynd had lanned. For a. moment rward, the two v. omen fiod ldovlz':d on th: tgnutiful, eface: en gma 00 u a arbara ersmall, snakrveesfullofhidenevil. ’ “ (i gen] knew, down—sans, Egg. 0110:; Wyn ose aroma 'c are ~not “Their power if miramfibus, and ygu will see, _ how she will graduall recover her 31111111” vitality, now that I discontinue em. “ And all the time the will mournher dead.” “ All Lilo time they “'1 l mourn her dead,” re- peated Barbara, with _ triumphant sun nnecs. will . and yet shewilllii'vez on, and know What it is to feel the 0‘ my hand. (It’s a sorrything Regina, 1 TWO” to cross my path ially twice.” There was a bid on in WW”; and the sewing-womanwas no 810W“W theginted words.‘ “ deed it is, Mn. «1. and yonniay 1‘sii;:|].‘wi1]’ ‘ “You my ,mmt-key, lt ‘andIoulycanpvoid “being I 18 WAS SHE HIS WIFE? “But do on not think the will discover the absence of rs. Davenal? urer some one of the family will go there one day again, soon.” A little look of contemptuous scorn swept over Barbara’s face. “ Do you really imagine, for a moment, Be- that I shall allow any such bunglin to betray me after all my successfu No, indeed! gina marks work thus far? in her grave-clothes, and made sufficient] hea to correspond to her wei ht. Thenl shall cover the face with a thic cloth and when a strange undertaker from New l’ork, whom I myself shall see, comes to place the permanent wooden lid upon the casket, I my- self shall superintend the operation, and see that he evinces no undue curiosity. Meanwhile, until this can be accomplished—which will be in a few days—I shall insist that no one visits the vault,, as a fresh sight of Blanche will but renew the first poignancyff grief. I will get all the credit for a most 'nd, thoughtful intern est, you see. I will be so disinterested, Regina, ever thinking of others’ sorrow, and not my own.” A note of absolute triumph run in her voice and Re 'na’s eyes looked the admiration she felt—an a little of the fear. A silence followed Barbara’s words, occupied in their keen watching of the unconscious girl. She had, as yet, given no signs of returnin ' life exce t by an involuntary moisture that ha appeare first on her face, and which had now spread over her whole body. Very gradually the expression of her marble- white countenanc’e was changing from perfect serenity of to e to a half-troub ed look. “ See,” sai Regina, touching Barbara’s arm. “ She seems to know beforehand the trouble she's wakin to.” “ And we 1 she ma ,” returned Barbara, cold- ly, “ for it Will be rouble such as no woman I shall myself 3 till Mrs. Davenal’s coilin with a dummy dressed ‘ endured before. What do you think, Regina, of living under the same roof with parents who % mourn their childlessness, with a husband who I is distracted because he is widowed? Under the ve roof, Regina, and breathin the same air, an et as far removed as though ternity’s ocean r0 ed between. Oh! I shall punish her! She shall know now how she has twice widow- ed my heart! She shall see him, her husband, her mother, and I will laugh when she prays to me for mercy! Regina, will make er look from that loophole onder, and watch Roy Da"enal as he walks alf demented around the (Sounds, yearning for his dead love! And when ner child is born, I will tantalize her with the joy it would give its father to take it in his arms and look into its eyes!” And, in all the intensit of her hate and re— venge Barbara had rai her hands aloft as if in adiuration of some potent wer, while Re- gina, with a. deathly shlver of orror and fasci- nated fear, turned toward the bed again, just as a low, quivering sigh came from Blanche Dave- nal’s lips. ' CHAPTER XXV. rm: rmanss cmws. A SLIGHT shiver thrilled over Blanche’s frame; then she wearin raised her hand and passed it over her eyes. “ Roy,’dear.” It was the dearest name of all she spoke in a low, faint tone, as she had been Went to do when awaking from her troubled dreams. Barbara stepped to her side, motioning Regina out of sight. - “I am with you, Blanche. Roy is not here.” She ned her e es in sudden apprehension. “ Roy not here! is he illl—oh, I remember. must have fainted. I thought I was dying. I am better dear, now.” She smiled in Barbara’s face, but there was no answering smile; and the black eyes looked 1 ,down with a terrible tire smoldering in them. Blanche instantly noticed it. “What is the matter? what—where am I? Wh , Barbara, this is not my room!” idly around at first, then a. , ression came to her eyes, hightend by the 100 in Barbara’s. ‘It is your room, Blanche, and will be for many long days to come.” Blanche struggled to her elbow, and in her weak condition, the exertion called a damp per- spiration to her skin. “ But I don’t understand lynou, Barbara, dear. I can’t be in my room, you ow.” ' Her voice was tl erpostulating, and Bar- bara’s came y back in dreadful con- tract. “Itlsyour room, Blanchaor your prison, I o ‘ stole Roy Davenal rom me? Ah, refer. And I am your jailer. d now? do you remember on, months a 0 when you anche Dav- whichever you Do you uncle what I promised enal, Lhave not forgotten that!” A look of intense horror crept to Blanche’s e es. “ Oh, Barbara! Barbara! what do you mean! Don’t talk so to me, you frighten me so, and I am so weak!” “ Yes, you are weak, Blanche Davenal, but I am strong! I have in my heart the accumulated strength of vengeance that will burst on you—— YOU, who have stood in my way not only once, but twice? Blanche, you married Gervaise De Laurian—well, and I killed him!” A scream of terror burst from Blanche’s lips, and she sunk back upon the pillows, trembling like a hmlted deer. “ Yes I killed him,” went on Barbara, merci- lessly, ‘ because he had wronged mc, outraged mp, deserted mc, all for you. I was his wife, Blanche Davenal, but not in name, he coolly told me. I was degraded that you might be lifted to the glorious honor of being called Mrs. De Laurian! But it was an empty honor, was it not?” Cowering among the pillows, Blanche dared not vouchsafe an answer, and again Barbara, like a relentless doom, went on: “Perhaps on little knew that while I was away on tha two months’ visit, it was what- I supposed a lawful wedding tour. Yes, Blanche Davenal, I lived with Gervaise De Laurian all those weeks, happier than the angels—and then he spurned me, trampled me under foot, and— married you—YOU the creature who crawled across my path. 0 you wonder I hated you then with an unquenchable hatred?” “ Oh, Barbara—Bar—” “ But your time had not come, then; it was on his craven head I would strike, and through him crush you as .well. I dill strike—J murdered him, your bride com, and then wept with you over is loss! lanche, I robbed you of your husband, and now, now, because you dared take any other lover from me, I have taken you from 1m. “But you can‘t! you shall not! Iwill tell him all, every word, and you shall never do it!” “So the )ussy has claws! well, they cannot hurt me. isten to another little romance, Mrs. Davenal, and )crhaps when on recall it, ou can remember ow long you rave been illl ow the last and severest of these ‘faints’ ter- minated in what you supposed was death? Well, Blanche Ilavcual, every one else but my- self also supposed it terminated in death, and you were dead, toall intents and purposes, to ever one but mn, the avenger!” “ h Barbara!” She ad no opportunity of saying more, for on swept the tide of unspent hate. “Yes, you were dmd,’ you were BURIED, Blanche Davenal, and this very hour, under this very roof, there is weeping and wailing over your death.” Blanche had sprung from the bed with intense excitement, and now stood with her long, swee ring robe, and strained eyes, as if utterly unab e to comprehend. “ Dead? buried? 1?” She gasped the Words in inarticulate bewil- derment. “Even so—fhat was your shroud, and those the flowers you carried with you to the Chet- wynd vault.” A shriek of horror came as Barbara’s words fell, coldly and cruelly on her half-demented senses. “That is not all, Blanche Davenal. If on hate and fear me now, you will shrink in u ter mortal terror when you learn that all that long, wastin r illness, that feigned death and genuine funera , was the work of my hands—these hands, that, helpless as you are now, are lifted in curses on you and yours! I lpoisoned you, dainty thief of two lovers! and t e decline was only its successful working; the faithful instru- ment did not fail me, and it. has brought you here, from your coiiin, to your rison, where you shall live, and live and live, feel the re- ve of a disgraced, trayed woman!” B anche covered her face with her hands to shut Out the baleful light of Barbara’s eyes that glowered down in her Own. “God help me! God help me!” she moaned, in utter des air of soul, as she staggered to the chair an sunk, powerless, into it. “That’s nonsense," rejoined Barbara, sneer- ingly. “You will learn in time to endure the punishment I have for you, and tmtil you do your religion will not serve you much. I tell you you are in my hands. woman. and nothing can avail you. Y'ou shall suffera pain forevery pang I have endured. Regina.” The woman ste ped from the foot of the bed, whither she ha stooped' Blanche looked up and sprung to her side, falling on her knees a. the woman’s feet. “Oh, Regina, you will help me! You will tell me where I am and how to gpt awa ? Oh Regina, if you’ll only tell my usban I will give you a thousand—yes, five thousand dollars !” Barbara laughed. “Bribes are of no avail. This woman is in my employ, and she knows what to expect if she plays me false.” Her low, intense tones were fearful to listen to and Blanche turned away in pitiful anguish. ‘I was about to say, Regina, that you will obey to the tittle the instructions I have given you. You may return to your room now.’ Regina noiselessly departed, leaving the two alone. “ I am going myself now, and I shall pass the room where Roy is walking the floor in agony that will not let him sleep. It’s a shame, isn it?” A sardonic smile curved her red lips asshe spoke. “Ma God be merciful to you in our last ' (fittl‘elmty, Barbara, and forgive me if pray to ( '0.” “Indeed you may well wish you were dead; indeed you will rue the day when you were In.” ! And when Blanche lifted her agonized face again she was alone. Lan rage seems weak to rtray the fee that filled and ove we her as she w in feeble weakness, t e floor of her prison. Utter agony of soul to discover in what cir- cumstances she was laced; utter bewilderment over the fearful disc osures Barbara had made. “Dead and buried ” she had been. “Poi- soned ” she had been-De Laurian a victim by Barbara’s hand—Barbara a double-dyed mur- deress and yet Rex Chetwynd’s wife; and Roy bdear dear R0 —he thought she was dead, and here 5 e was, ifinmufiefing, and under the same roof, Barbara said. She feared she was going crazy; her head was so vague and wild. \ “ nder the same roof 1” It could not be; this room was so strange, and she knew Chet- Wynd Chase so well. And then Barbara—that was the knowledge that made her wild frantic. She fell on her knees beside the bed, and, in the darkness of that lone )1ace, Blanche com- mitted her ways unto 1m, and imfilorfil strength and patience to endure what 8 - Iowa in His inscrutable Providence, and for faith to believe all would come ri ht at last. Her heart bled, and her tears ell thick and fast when she arose from her knees; and yet there was a. secret consciousness of a ray of deep, inward ace. Prostrated houggeshe was, both by the drug that had so long n sapping the foundations of her life, and the severe mental suffering she had under one she arose and groped her way to the wal of the room, wondering, in an uncer- tain sort of way, if she could reco ize any fea- tures of it again, now that the li t was no. But there was no window mm W ch to' ban a signal of distress, and she need not have tri the door, for she well knew it was double- locked. ’ gh‘hm wafs SE31, f hful despair she it a co ' g o anguis , leaned against the wall, feeling almost Inno- \ated with hgafirief. “ Can be y dying? I’ feelso strange!’ she murmured. “ I must live. live for Roy!” Her sudden will-power dispelled the nervom chimeras that had clouded her brain. ‘ “ Let me to think calmly and on- .25 try atel ” she thou ht and 0 her we . i 8 ' ran... m" to t e chair, seated horse “'If I am within Chetwynd Chase, as Barbara said, this is some hitherto unknown rooming , whose location no one knows but Barbara Regina. Barbara hates me,” and, with the ' thou ht, her heart sunk in fear and dismay. “ an intends I shall be her victim, as poor Ger‘ vaise was—Heavens! and we never knew—I dare not think of it! “I am su no one but rbara and Re ' alive; and here, in m fathe 3 house, a prison- er, I must live in.so 'tude' my babe Will-be . born—and they W111 never know it—oh! R0 1 mother! the Curse of Chetwynd Chase bulli- deed fallen blightingly upon me!” \ \ to bedeadandburied and, knows am , '. ‘ . 1'. ! :§.k‘»-‘-Wma_~_~l_ 4-,. Awlpifih-v, 52 f ‘r‘ «4—..— L—‘<-.£1... ‘ s . 1‘ aneuws ... amid. e 4......“ .«K«;» ‘ As, with * Mi _‘_.-;4 .'$ “at”; twig?“ [ i .(f l l Alma, ,2 j WAS SHE HIS WIFE? CHAPTER XXVI. AT THE DEAD VAULT. “ REX, dear, I find it necessary to go to New ,York to-da . You can 5 are me .4” . Youn . Chetwym looked down in her husbancfls eyes as she came up beside him while he sat reading the morning paper. “Spare you? “'0 never can spare you, dar- ling; so good a daughter and so fond a wife is in ispensable to us. But I guess I can let you 0." 3 He reached his hand to caress hers, that lay lightly on his shoulder, and smiled at her. “And you will be so kind and attentive to Mrs. Chetwynd, dear? She needs constant ‘ Sympathy you know, Rex; and. above all, don't \ let her an Rov talk over their griefs, It will be more than she can stand. ’ . “ SO kind, so womanly, my own sweet Wife,” was'the husband's tender, complimentary re- pl . y‘ Then let me kiss you good—by till luncheon -'-I will be back by then.” And, with tci‘iderest caresses and kisses, Bar- . bara started on the errand that. had he known ‘, furnis front of the house. ‘ if I conld its import, and more particularly all connected with it, would have frozen those kisses into . curses on his 1i )S.‘ Barbara. 11 c a ilain, elegant traveling toilet, and reached the epot in ample time for the train that tOOk her to New York. Arrived at the Chambers street ferry, she rOCured a cab, and was driVen to the dull, shop of an undertaker in Second avenue, to ghoul she communicated her errand, and made all the arrangements she had intended. A few urchases of muslins and fiannels, a light lune at Currier’s, and then to the depot ‘n in time to catch the train home by luncheon. Her package she carried to her own room at once, and then changed her black velvet walk- - —suit for an afternoon home dress—a trailing of richest black. The family were gathered in the dining-room around the table, on which a light lunch of oyster patties, cold boned turkey and dry.but— teredfioast was spread; with coffee for the la— dies, and Port for the gentlemen. It was partaken of almost in silence, and add- ed tothe gloom of their somber black garments, Was the moaning of the March winds outside, and the cold, cheerlcss gray sky that was slowly covering up the last traces of the blue. As usual after luncheon, while, Mr. (‘hetxn’nd, ‘ Rex and Iioy remained for their cigars. l\lrs. Chetwynd and Barbara retired to the family Eittin -room——a large, well—lighted, elegantly filed apartment, opposite the parlor, at the It wore a remarkably homelikc look, even on . that cloudy, cheerless March afternoon. A bri ht sea-coal fire was snappiny.,r and crack— in in t e grate, its ruddy glow reflected on the ' t bunches of grapes that ornamented the wall per; several ow, cozy chairs were drawn up ytfie velvet druggct, near the grate; footstools stood before higher chairs. and a crimson broca— tolle lounge was wheeled up to the ebony (‘cntcr— table whereon lay books, magazines and the pOXUlfl-r Weeklies. nd‘ still, delightfully pleasant as this room apfioaml, With all these appliances of luxury an taste, “Along, bright crimson damask cur— tains, looped away by gold hands, its costly landscape aintings, in their massive frames, its dainty nic ks and tall necked Sevres vases, it reminded them more of their dead than any other room in the mansion, excepting Blanche's own sleeping a artment. On one tube lay a Splendidly embroidered mat, of gold and crystal beads on crimson vel- vet, that Blanche had made for the stereoscopc to rest upon. ‘ . On the marble mantel was a magnificent dra ry of crimson velvet, embroidered with h braid and edged with a wide. heavy old giggle; there were ottomans, worked in All}; an stitc , and a gorgeous-hum blanket of the same st 19 thrown over the back of the sofa, that che had made “to throw over mannna when the lay down,” and a pillow to match. Little wonder was it then that Mrs. Chet- ’8 heart bled afresh whenever she entered this room and saw cum and over again the mute reminders of her daughter 5 love. As she entered this apartment, leaniig on Barbara’s strong, firm arm. all her loss came yividly upon her, and her tears fell thick and “t. I . “ If I could only lo‘ok at her again, Barbara kiss her once more, and touch those dear, hin handsl” “ It could do you no good,” answered Barba- ra, softly, bending down to caress the cold fin- gers she held. “ t always seems to me a sacri- lege to disturb the dead after they are once laid awav. ’ “ But it wouldn’t hurt her, Barbara! I’d be so careful not to hurt her—my own, own Blanche!” “Of course you’d not hurt her; I did not mean that, for we both know our dear Blanche is beyond all suffering forever; but I do most certainly think, dear Mrs. Chetwynd, that in your state of mind, and consequent physical weakness, 011 could do nothing more impru- dent. As said at first, it can do you no ossi— blc good, and I am confident the satisfaction of once more looking upon her unconscious face would not repay for the consequent harrowing of your feelings anew.” Mrs. Chetwynd’s tears were falling like glis- tcning crystals on her heavily creped dress, and Barbara, with her contemptuous, pitilcss smile as she stood over her, was smoothing back the faintly streaked hair—streaked with pale silver since Blanche had died; and her fingers were cool and mesmeric in their touch, so that Mrs. Chetwynd, even amid all the grief that was consuming her, realized what a comfort her adopted daughter was. Later, the gentlemen, their wine and cigars finished, rc'oined them, and a neral conversa- tion ensuer , while Barbara, a r an hour, ex- cused herself, and retired to her own room. There was a sufficiency of work for her to do, and, securing her doors from possible intruders, she sat down, with a calmly-triumphant face, and nimny deft fingers, to her task. W'ith creditable skill she stuffed a dummy, that would about answer to Blanche’s size. This she dressed in Blanche’s satin grave- clothcs, and around the head she pinned a damask napkin. This done, she wra ped a. waterproof around it, and laid it on a shelf of her wandrobe; she carefully collected all shreds and litter from the carpet, and bumed them. By this time it was half-past five-a half-hour of the dinner-time of Chetwynd Chase; and in tenser dark. She rung for Regina to light the lamps, and then, with all the graceful precision that chars acfcrized her movements, began some slight al- terations in her toilet. 'She removed the plain linen collar, and sub stitutcd one of filmy lace; for the jet jewelry she wore heavy Etruscan gold, and wound a string of gold beads in her hair. She had decided from the first, and communi- catcd her will to all the family, that she would not )ut on strict mourning for Blanche. She won (1 wear black dresses and mantles, but wished to reserve the ri ht of her usual orna- ments. She was satisfi they all were con— vinccd how deeply she lamented dear Blanche‘s loss, and would permit her to consult her own wishes in this respect. And they accorded her a mood of praise for her sound ood sense. And Bar ara, radiant in her elegant mourn- ing dresses, laughed at her beautiful reflection, and thought how admirany black became her! To-night she was , rless fair, and Regina’s eyes lighted up wit a ha jealous admiration as she. watched her mistress clasp the wide golden bracelets and adjust the s arkling ruby ring—it had been a wedding gift or Blanche. “ While we are at dinner, Regina, you may take this bundle to Mrs. Davenal—she will at once know their use. Then, while the servants are at their table, on may carry this,” and she opened the wardro door and showed the lay figure. “ You know where to place it, Regina, gndkbg. sure you give me the key when you come ac . At dinner that night, Barbara was unusually pensive and quiet. Once or twice she raised ier hand to her forehead, and pressed it there, as if to ease some distress. Her husband Was not slow to note all this, and anxiously in uired if she was ill. No, she was no ill, but she believed she had a headache. If she could be excused she would retire to her room after dessert, and in down. Rex attended her to her room, an insisted upon bathing her temples with the fra nt, aromatic toilet-vinegar, until she assu him she felt so much better, thanks to his affection- ate solicitude, that she only required to retire early to bed, in order to awake as well as usual in the mornin . 'Rox kissed r good-night, and V for Be- gma, bidding her take excellent care 0 er mis- tress, and directing her to knock atlas dressing- room door if Chetwynd were restless dun- iug the night. . ' ' l ‘.. “And now, Regina, tell me uickl , for I havewastedtoomuchtime alreadyin y' to elude any suspicion as to our work to- ht. Is the coffin ready for the undertaker? oes the dummy look at all natural?” “You will be perfectly satisfied with every- thing when you see, Mrs. Chet d. Here is yougwaterproo‘f and vail; do go with you or— “ You remain here and tell any one who in— quires that I am slee ing and must not be dis- turbed. Give me the ey.” Out in the windy darkness Barbara went, fearless and alone. At the vault, she called in a. low whis r, and received as cautious an answer; while mm the shadow of the building emer a man, bearing a dark—lantern and a polish walnut coffin—lid. Scarcel a word was interchanged While the two stood side by side and the man screwed down the lid. Then Barbara paid him a large roll of bills, and he departed as he came. She stood there, alone in that damp, uncann place, her eyes blazin ' e stars, an her tee gleaming in a smile o fearful jo . “ Safe—so far!” she murm . “ Yes?” a voice answered. With a little cry she looked up—and faced Gervaiso De Laurianl CHAPTER XXV IL m Pmsomm’s GUEST. FOR a moment Barbara was analyzed with horror and fear; her lips turn ashen, and a blur came suddenly before her eyes. £1? Ogaspedu—ymdnt th ords' 1mg e on e w m a strugg ' wa that was altogether unusual for her. y “It is certainly myself, Mrs. Chetwynd—but no thanks to on for the fact. I resume you have no diffi ty in remembering t t?” A cold chill was shivering over her; she put both her hands before her eyes as if to shut out the’ smiling, fiendish face opposite her. “I am aware I am not the most agreeable sight you could wish to see, Mrs. Che d— both on account of the story I mi ht to of a certain affair in which I played ra her consp- cuousl , and the fact of the mystery that hangs over t 18 little incident.” “Then you’ve come to betray me, have you?” Her voice was hoarse and husky as she asked the uestion. - “ ell, Mrs. Che d, that de nds. I would like, however, know wha. all this means!” He laid his hand on what had been Blancho’s coffin, and stared at Barbara with a terrible earnestness of meani in his eyes. What was she to of That action went thundering t h her brain, 19ng an answer; it her very heart as she real. ized, in all its frightful truthfulness, what this man could bring her to—this man whom she had tried to murder. Ohl the terrific forms her ex- cited imagination took in those few seconds while she strove to think rational] . He had esca her—how how bad she blun eredl—but she ew she had missed her aim, and thatho was on her track—an aven r as she had been. Would he betra her—who had no mercy on him? Woul his hand hurl her down to do- struction as her own had sought to do with him, and was even now seeking to do another! Should she cry him mercy? Should she hum- ble herself before him—she who was I0 brave before? His voice scattered the lightning train of thought. “Mrs. Chetwynd, this plate beam the name of my wife—my lawful wife. I see it reads, ‘ Blanche C. Davenal, aged twenty-two.’ ” She did not answer; and he went on, watch- ing her closely: ‘I have a fancy to see how she looks; she was so beautiful on our wedding-dam He deliberately opened his stout-b ed knife, and began unscrewm the lid. “No. no! you shal not toueh it! Sheilnot yogir wife—you have not the right!” h he ' rked his arm in a powerful - e mncligd it free with scarce an that same smile of conscious power. “ I have not the right—I, her lawful‘husband, Mrs. Chetwynd? Besides, if I had not the au— thority, who could. vent me! surely not a womansarm; an i wouldscamelydoforyou to shriek for help. How true his words were! how completely he was impalmg her. A little mm on her lips for commithere. ’ “Ishallsee owmywifelio’h. MM furtherback, . Atensowhitolinegatheredamnd Barbara .l ‘ lips, and she quiet! stepped aside, conscious now with the consc ousness of despair, that it would avail her nothing to interfere. ' She watched him as he rapidly removed the screws and before the last one was taken out, she had decided that there was but one course left—or, the owsl , De Laurian lifted the lid and laid it down, glancinglcarelessly- at the satin shroud and the tips of t e sli pers. He carefully unpinned the napkin, and t en Barbara ste ped closely up to him, So that her hot breath ifimed against his cheeks, and her eyes glared almost in his own as he turned with an eJaculation of surprise and f . WWhat does it mean? Woman—fiend, explain this myste , or b all the memories of the time when I lair , as sad, in a vault like this—I’ll lock you alive in this place!” “ I said it was not your wife. believe me new?” The intense calm in her voice was ominous and awfulqgut De Laurian only bent his face the nearer her. “Where’s Blanche? What do on mean to do with her—or it, if she is dead Barbara, I denéand- the answer—is she dead? where is e “ And if I refuse to answer?” She smiled mockirigly. “ You are not, you vile witch you! I’ll put you in that coffin, and screw down that lid un- ess you answer me!” She shuddered, but still smiled on, silent] . “ You refuse? Then by the powers at ark- ness, you shall feel my revenge! ’ He jerked the dummy from its coffin, and threw it upon the damp floor and seized Barba- ra b the slender throat. , “ e, P11 do it! it’ll be better than being hanged!” His eyes blazed like a madman’s, and a scream of awful horror came from Barbara’s lips. “ Take your hands off me, you monster! My Lilflenis sweet to me, and tosave it, I’ll tell you He smiled coolly again but retained his hold, thou h loosened, on or fair throat. “ ou‘ll swear to tell me all—ALL without re- servation?” ‘ She met his eyes boldly. “ I swear to tell all without reservation, on two conditions.” “ Name them ” he answered. “ You will take your oath not to betray me. You will agree to aid me in my plans.” “ Iwill swear an hing,” he answered, lightly, and a strange gli ter came to his dark eyes. “Now we have signed the compact, and I am ready for our revelation.” ’ He up the dummy ashe spoke, and laid it in the coffin again; he screwed down the lid, and all the while Barbara was telling him the story of Blanche Davenal. He evinced no sur- prise, no sorrow; and Barbara wondered at the t change that had come over this man. ere was, in place of the gay easiness of air a iar sarcastic indifference, a something 3 e cared to trust, a something she was forced to confide in, and—horror of horrors, a something whose power she knew she would never again be free! A weight had come crushin over head and heart; and 'Barbara dhetwyn be an to think, there was an end to her tether. id Gervaise De Laurian hold that end in his hands? Her very soul was sick and faint. Who had seemed to suffer remorse now felt the keenest pangs of a fear only such natures Can feel. Laurian knew all this; she knew he knew it, and with that unbearable thought came the resolve to watch him with a Vigilance that should exceed his own; and if he attempted plalfiing her false—! 0 hought lent courage and there came to her cheek as the two walked silent] along thro h wind and darkness, a. has of re- ho . “ I ampgoinfi to Chetwynd Chase,” she said, at length, to e Laurian, as they reached the 11 ran Perhaps you e t ce. “ So am I,” he returned, quietly. She turned around in quick surprise and alarm. “ You to Chetwynd Chase?” “ Certfigly. Why not? Did I not say I wished to see how my wife looked?” His cool, ready answer bewildered her. £61701; see Blanche? It is im ” interru her, laying hand heava on her er. ‘ ‘,“Seehere,Mi's.Chetwynd. I tendtosee Blanche within the hour. You show me to er. Refuse. and you know the compact be- WAS SHE HIS WIFE? tween us will be broken. If it is broken, it can not damage me, for I know your secret, and the knowledge can not be wrested from me. But you, Mrs. Chet nd, might not fare so well.” How her hea sunk again; she was in his power as completely as ever mortal was in hu- man power. fter all her scheming, her suc- cessful accomplishment, it would end iii—this! After all, where was the use? what was it, after all, that she had sold her soul for? Only a paltry revenge, that now, in the searching light of fear, seemed so miserable, so poor. But it can not be undone; she. must answer to this man, and he must use her as he chose, or else— She involuntarily put her hand to her throat. Not that! oh, any thing rather than that! “Come, then,” she said, briefl , and, with that deliberate, conscious smile, he wed assent. Silently they passed around the little lake, and up to the gloomy side entrance. Not a light was visible on that side of the house, nor a sound to be heard save the pitiful wailing of the storm-charged wind as it swept bleakly up from the Passaic. Up the dark, deserted stairs she led him to the observatory. A grim smile parted his lips as he waited there a moment, in obedience to her words; he remembered it well. Up the upper flight of stairs she went, closely followed by De Laurian. “You, will wait while I see if Blanche is dressed.” She opened the door; afaint li ht was burning, and Blanche sat sowin by the ittle stand. As Barbara entered s 0 turned wearin around, but said nothing. She had learned how useless was cntrcaty, how futile were pra ers for mer- (éy. Other words she had no deSLre to speak. arbara went up to her, a cold, steely glitter in her eyes. ' “,I have brought you a visitor—your husband Is— A scream burst from Blanche’s lips at the words. “ My husband? my Roy? Oh, Barbara, I am so thankful, so thankful! I knew you would not always be so obstinate. R0 , dear Roy! come ri ht in. I’m here, alive an well!” or beautiful eyes were all all ht with sudden joy, and Barbara s heart throbbei with malicious glee, as she watched for the tableau. The door opened widely; a footste was heard, and with a cry of exquisite joy, lanche ex- tended her arms to— Gervaise De Laurian! CHAPTER XXVIII. rm: OPAL-STONE MYSTERY. THE cry of exultant delight suddenl froze on Blanche’s lips; her extended arms fel to her side, and stil leaning forward, she seemed transfixed by the Medusa sight that met her starin eyes. Bar ara could see the suddenly-accelerated heaving of her chest, and the stony rigidity her figure assumed. De Laurian advanced in a aceful, half-dd precating way, and still speec less, motionless, and with intense bewilderment, as thou 11 she were regarding a ghost] visitant, B nche awaited is nearer approac 1. Then his voice, low, not untender, broke the weird spell. “ Blanche—my wife!” , At the ominous words, a low, horrified cry burst from her lips; and she staggered back, beating at the air with her hands as if to keep off some fri htful demon. “ Do not afraid of me—I assure you I am no arisen (lead; no restless spirit come to haunt ou. Blanche had gained the chair, and leaned back among its cushions, her face covered with her hands, and uttering low, pitiful moans. “ Indeed I hava no wiSh to alarm you Blanche! I only desired, very naturally, I think, to see my wife, whom I have not seen since the wedding-day. Blanche, dearest, you have no Welcome for our husband?” His affectionate epit st and the fearful memo- fl'es it recalled, lent speech to her half-paralyzed IEDon’t! don’t talk so to me! Oh, why did you come? What have I done to be thus tor- mented? If I were only dead!” There was infinite agogy in her low, trem- bling voice, and she look up at De Laurian, find from him to Barbara, with implorin , unted eyes, that would have melted the sto o est heathen.- But Barbara, whose heart was fire, whose veins were filled withvilest blood, only curled her lips in ineifable disdain. De Lain-inn mped nearer her, andhended/ his handsome h . “ It is passing strange, my Blanche, that you should endure such torment —you, so pure, so 'leless. I, your husband, nave come to re- ease you.” ’ “Never, traitor!” and Barbara sprung be- tween them in wild alarm. “Never mind, Mrs. Chetwynd, please,” re- torted De Laurian, coolly, and then went on speaking to Blanche. “You know how I always loved you, dear est; and you know I am naturally as anxious to have ou for my wife as I was the day I was— ell, the day ' we“ were 1. iried Blanche, my darling, come to me, and be in own. as once you were. I will lead you forth from this prison this moment, and we willforv. get all the past that has clouded us both. lanche, dear, you will forget him, and let me ‘ be all-in-all?” All the old—time Witche was quivering in his voice, and his dark, ustrous eyes were ‘ beamin in her own tearful, gleadin ones-as they be done in those bygone, appy aye. But a thrill of repellent horror curdled her heart; invollmtarily she shrimk away. “How can you ask it? How can (you bid me forgot Roy—my own, own Roy? _h, Mr. De Lauri'ln, have I not enough anguish without adding this bitter drop to the overflowing on i” “ Then I am nothing to you—I, your only 0- gal husband? You Will take Royal Davenal in prflfergggito mfrh’l d d' ' tel but 6 0 ca y an ispassiona , Blanche saw the steely glitter coming in hi); es. Barbara remembered a time when he more heartlesst cast her off for this very woman he now was suing to; and an exultant thrill of proud trium h shot from her eyes. For a moment B che made no answer then she arose from her chair, slowlg, and as if the act caused her a. severe eflort. he ste up to De Laurian, and laid her cold trem g hand on his sleeve, and lifted her sad, haunting eyes to his dark face. _ “I will answer you in all truth, and in all solemnity; as I would if my mother heard me, and Roy Davenal stood by my side; as I am willing—and believe they do—that God and His an els hear me.” n impressive silence followed; then she went on. . “I loved on, Mr. De Laurian, With all the love of my cart. Had you not met with the terrible misfortune that caused. me, and all others, to regard myself 1your widow, Iwould have beena true, loving W' e until death parted us, for Iloved you, Mr. De urian.” I ‘ Her voice, so pathetic and sweet, was dw- fiod and sli htly distant; De Launan and - bara listenei attentively. ‘ “But I thought you were dead; I learned to ’ i . regard on as gone from us forever and I mournet trul for you. Then, Mr. De Baurian, when gentle- gored Time had healed my heart, I learned to love Mr. Davenal as I love him to- . . (la , as I alwa s must love" him—as my good, Aflgctionate hus nd. I think there requires no additional explanation.” She turned back to her seat as though dil- missing the subject forever, followed .y De Laurian’s gleamin e es. . “ I do require her ex lanation._ I desire to know if a lifetime of co ement in this de— lightful apartment is to your taste? Would you ‘ ' rather remain here, allowing your family to think on dead, and knowing that Boyewill certa' y marry again some time, than raw stored to them all as my wife, what you really are?” I Her lips uivered at the cold words;. then she bowed her and slowly “ I ,can do no more han suffer, and be trusto 7 R0 . ‘yAs you please, madam. I admire your principles.” . / She noted the sarcasm in his voice, and\Bar- bars, as she stood there like a statue, smiled grimly as she observed his scarceconoealed cha- I1. grg‘ I will come again—perhaps I will find You less romantic. In the interim, can I serve you in any way?” , She turned her eyes on him in dumb anguish. “ I want nothing but to be released from this risen—you will not do that' why should} suf- er the indignity of a denial?” “ You kn walk forth. There are none other.” He motioned to Barbara to and loc the door of \the room, the two, who were pla such a rate at cross- MW. e ,- " v I "i: .1: l ’l _,.. .V - u 4 A , ow the conditions upon which‘you " 0 him down; ;_ .rr‘i . r Eli-poses, went silently own to the outer eu- " once. I K . .l. I r. ' O a ,‘4 A I 5 l. q. l“ «. 5"» .y I A h '7 ‘ l i :1, WASSHE HIS WIFE? i” ‘ De Laurian raised his hat in elaborate cour- ’ AI have the honor to both bid you good-night find—beware ! 1 emember the broken opal stone. . It has a sfbry you little suspect.” Before her wondering lips could frame a ques- tion or retort, he was gone through the darkness. As she stood there, where he left her, the great clock in the stable struck twelve; and it sounded to Barbara like as many knells of doom, so slow distinct and echoinrr they were as they fairly thundered on the nig t-wind. Her fie eyes peered out into the densedark— ness like emon’s eyes and a tinge of passxonate red burned in either 0 ieek. Was she to be baffled, after all? had one false step led into this pitfall over which she knew De Laurian’s hand was suspending her? She knew him well; and she knew that, fired b the memory of her futile attempt to murder h he would follow her on to the death. “ To the death!” Often as she had contemplated the death of others never had it fully come home to her be- fore at there would come a time in her expe- rience when she would be drifting away herself from all human help; when all the horrors of an unre nted life would stare her, with stony eyes, f in the face. But to-night, somehow, such gloomy thoughts would come; try though she would, she could not banish them. She vainly strove to assure herself that she was “ nervous,” but it did not lessen the knowl- edge that was crushing her, that Gcrvaise De Iaurian was, of a verity, “ on her track,” and that too with a ban an’s noose in his hand. Suddenly a thong t occurred to her. How could she suffer for his death when he 'Vwas not dead? She laughed because she had not thought of that before-a weird, strange music it 'was that re-echoed on the air. “Fool that he is to think he can baffle W! Let Min beware, or the next blow I aim at him will hurl him deeper than he would cast me.” She noiselessly re-entered the house, and re- turned to her room. Regina was dozing in the chair by the grate, but aroused as Barbara suddenly raised the flame of the lam , almost exclmmiug as slic caught a glance rom Mrs. Chetwynd's lurid e I yes. “ G0 at once to Mrs. Davenal‘s room, Regina,” she commanded, in a whisper. “ She has been fearftu excited the last few hours, and may need your care and skill before morning.” Regina had one, and Barbara had exchanged her garments or her ni lit-wrapper, when there came a low tap on her oor. “ Yes—who is it?” “ It is I, dearest. You are better then ?” She crossed the room and unfastened the door. Rex met her with a him as he wound his arm around her slender waist. “You have rested well, Barbara ? Regina guarded you faithfully, for twice I inquired and was refused admittance.” “ It was by my order, dear,” she said, tender- ly “ and I am very much reheved, thank you.’7 l‘ I have been with Roy all the evening, Bar- bars. I fear he will lose his reason under this shock—I never dreamed he loved Blanche so idolatrously. However, I have persuaded him to consent to a three months’ trip to the Conti- neat—perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynd will ac- odm n him—the change may be beneficial.” “ you will remain?” If gIo—unless you are willing I t shall be as you decide, on will not should leave you. darling.” , CHAPTER XXIX. Dn LAURIAN AGAIN. , BARBARA could not slee that night; restless and wakeful, she passedp the hours in busy she must thwart De Laurian, no matter What he did' again, a new and unexpected aid ‘ ' sudden decision of the Chet- . to Europe. fit and equally positive was it, that she must .1. Some one would be obliged to look after base, and she was the one, wfhom no reunions or ar cnts should deter rom hor’khid mriflce, gum e coast cleared, she would measure Gemlse De Laurian, and then hid defeatdn his face. ' 8”" b0“. and brave with the morning and th h her eyes were somewhat and her 0 h pale when she went down she was Ii'ong at heart, and was on SD- Of course Rex must .3 ‘ I a: n A, I . T pearance as the inevitable results of the head— ache she had undergone. Naturally, the question of the European trip —to be a short one, obviously—~was discussed thoroughly. and the decision was made that Mr. and Mrs. Chetwynd, Sn. Roy and Rex should go in the first steamer that sailed in which they could procure the necessary accommodations. There were to be no preparations of packing beyond the simplest needs; nothing new to be bought or made. so that all bustle was obviated, and the Continental tour was as Xduietly begun as an ordinary run down to New ork. Of course, as Barbara had expected, she was hardly allowed to immolate herself at the Chase, while all the household were away. Mr. Chet- wynd urged her to complete their party, and she gracefully exlplained her reasons. Mrs. Chetwyn asked her why she would in- sist on remaining home alone—and Barbara whispered, in a loving, tear-laden voice, it was not to leave Blanche dearest quite alone; and when her words touched the sorest spot of the mother heart, Barbara wondered what that mother would think if she knew how very liter— ally she spoke. She pressed Roy’s hands in silent sympathy, and he blessed her for it, while Rex was equally loud in praises and severe in expressions of dis- appointment. So she had the “upper hand,” and sent the bereaved family off with smiles—saddened, yet cheerful—and then rehlrned to the deserted mansion in heart-swellin triumph. She rung for Regina, w en she had sat for an hour in meditative reverie. There was an unusual flush on the woman’s face and a suspicion of moisture in her snaky, bright eyes. “ Well?" Barbara said, as the woman entered. “ It is well, indeed. Mrs. Davenal gave birth to a daughter this morning at five.” Barbara started. “ I am glad it’s over. And she is well?” “ As can be expected—but, oh! so stricken in soul, and so patient under it all.” “ That will do,” returned Barbara, curtly. “ Sentiment does not become you, at all. As I have not seen Mrs. Davenal for a fortnight—- since the night of m headache, you remember, 1 will pay hera ca later in the day. I sent for you, Regina, to give notice to the servants that they can take a holiday of a month—be— ginning with Monday week next. Their wages will go on as usual.” “And if I might ask, who is to do all the work!" Barbara frowned at the flippant question. “ You-—-or I, if you are not able.” Regina was silenced, and Barbara dismissed her with a gesture. After she had gone Barbara sat several mo- ments longer. “The house will be empty, excepting Re ‘ and I—-I do not count an others. It sh be securely fastened on all si es, and we will see if Do Laurian gains ingress to my lad ’s chamber; and when the Chetwynds return, lanche will not be at the Chase. I have a better hiding- placc than this, which he shall never learn.” The week that intervened between that day and the hegira of the five servants passed in usual routine to Barbara. She drove out, and sewed, and read; made a call or so, and took good care to inform her hostess, every time, that the Chase wasgto be closed for a month while she made a little visit to Philadelphia. The servants one, the shutters were closed, and blinds on t e ground floor drawn. The rear entrance not only locked, to keep De Lau- rian out, but double-barred, and Barbara smiled when she saw how secure they were from any possible intruder. It was not until then-\vhen Blanche’s baby was nearly three weeks old—that Barbara kept her word of seeing her. . There was not a heart 1n the world, except Barbara Chetw d’s, that would not have melted into infinite pity and compassion toward that fair, pale oung mother, as she lifted her eyes. in mute, uehmg entreaty, to Barbara’s face, when she came in and stood, half-frown- ing, half-smiling, at the infant that lay on Blanche’s bosom, its tiny pink fists doubled up as if to protect its mother from this sworn foe. Fin a moment neither of the two 5 oke, the h B anche’s trembling lips, and am 1y angU' - ful eyes were more eloquent than language could have been. a “ _Well,” said Barbara, afmr the moment had ensured, “the baby looks hke Roy—very much in eed. Wouldn’t he like to see her?” Amoanof pain the tantalizingwordscalled forth was Blanche’s only answer. " 2‘1 “ What shall you call her, Mrs. Davenal? You remember the old promise to name the first daughter after me i” A geoptibh shiver thrilled Blanche’s frame, and ham laughed. “You would not want to curse her so, would you? But Mrs. Davenal, if you will tell me what the name is to be, I will do you anymmll favor you will name.” ' A flush of excitement sprung to Blanche’s cheeks. “ b, will you, will you let me go down and see them? Barbara! Barbara! I will go down on my knees in the humblest entreaty! I will gray to on as I never prayed to mortal before] h, Batil‘ . willfo . 've ou tolthifa uttermg’st every mtg on on y, on y or mere s sake, for my guyileless baby’s sake, let me be re- leased from this living tomb. ” She was kneeling before Barbara now, with an arm clasped around her baby, the other reached to Barbara’s hand that she was pressing with an agony of persuasion. ' An expression of extremest surprise crept into Barbara’s eyes. _f “ That is an unprecedented favor to ask; yet, 1 __77 Her half hesitating manner im lied that she was not as invulnerable to Blane as as she had been hitherto. And the ea , prisoner was strengthened with a new, wildly 'L elicious hope. “Say you will, Barbara, for Heaven’s sake! I promise you you shall not be unished; I solenml vow ix) shield you from harm for thfiywi be so lad to at meback, thatthey w' pardon you am celiam' ” Barbara looked thoughtfully a moment. “And if I allow on to go down to your own room, or the lower oar—whichever you prefer -—-you promise to—” ‘I will promise blindly whatever you ask. Oh, Barbara, I am so glad, so ecstatically thankful. Come, right away, Barbara. I am all ready.” She trembled with the reaction that had so suddenly come to her, and her brown eyes were a glitter of intense feverish excitement. “ Barbara, I am all ready—see, I have wrapped a blanket about the baby, and I am not at all chilly. Do come, I am so impatient.” - A strange smile crossed Barbara’s lips as she walked over to the door. ,- “Come, then, I will trust to your word.” A shriek of joy she could not control burst from her lips, an shivering from head to foot, in the exquisite anticipations that crowded be— fore her, she followed closely upon Barbara’s steps, thro h the observatory, down the stairs, throu h which she went in silent astonishment that gieir existence had never been known to her, to the dear old familiar floors below. She seemed walking on air; what would she do = - : thou ht when she entered their resenee W0 d they be alarmed and shrink rom her, thinking her a de spirit? or would, her own excess of jay, at the meetin ; overcome her, and break e heart-strings t t trouble had so nearly snapped asunder? In such ‘ 'mngs as these,'Blanche walked down to the lig t and joy she knew would greet her. “Barbara,” she said, lowly, “it must be as late as eleven o’clock' do you not think the will all be sleeping? 0. you not think I ' fri hten them by appearing so suddenly!” arbara smiled—one of her olden-time smiles, so kindl and heartfelt, Blanche thought—poor, innocen child! “ Ever thoughtful, Blanche, for others, rather than self. Suppose you to Roy’s room—he would hail your spirit wi rapture, I am sure— and explain as rationall as you can, without im heating any one unt' later.” ' lanche pressed Barbara’s hand ardently. “ I know my husband will not be alarmed, for he knows how truly I love him. And will you break the news to my mother?” . “ I will, and we may well anticipate the most joyous re-union the world ever saw, in a very. few minutes.” Trembling in ev limb, and her heart pal i- tatin so fearfully t it threatened to o- cate er Blanche crossejd the corridor ’to the door of the old—time room, while in the shadowy corner, Barbara sneered at her in mocking, laughmf' silence. Blanche almost ' the dar ened room-,r-to find the bed unoccupied. A cry of disappointment fell from her lips, fol- lowed by me er‘of sudden thought. ' “Of course he is smoking in thalihrary-h-I, will go down, Burma.” She giided onlihethewind,cloeelyfonowed b there silen w tothe " fittest}! m flewacrosu. / , \ 22 WAS SHE HIS WIFE? the brilliant] -1ighted room, and dis- 1 vealing closing the unmistaka le odor of a ci . The glo in her eyes deepened an darkened as she gli ed throu h the door, while at the same second a sta ed, half-fearful look ban- ished the mocking light from Barbara’s eyes. Then, simultaneous with the intense anguished cry of disappointment from Blanche, came a hissing noise of rage from Barbara as they both involuntarily uttered—“ Gervaise be Laurianl“ CHAPTER XXX. THE FOE IN THE HOUSE. Wm! an easy, graceful courtesy, Mr. De Laurian threw his cigar into the tireless grate, and bowed to the ladies, at once noticing the white heat and cha ' of Barbara’s face, and the gitiful grief in anche’s. “ lanche, m dear, my delight at seeing you is only equal by my astonshment. Permit me to offer you an easy-chair, and, at the same time, my con tulations. Mrs. Chetwynd, your most 0 eat.” It was wonderful, the cool, indifferent air he umed. “ How did you ain access to this housc?” Barbara ke oarsel , and her black eyes flamed mal ictions on his head as he easily and quietly stood to listen. “ In a rfectl natural and legitimate way, dear ma T rough the front entrance.” “ The front entrance!” she repeated, in aston- ishment. “ Has Re 'na dared—” “Not so fast m, if ou please. Regina has nothing w tever to ow1th it; indeed, I doubt if she knows I am in the house. , Of course I should not have ventured, by using the latch—k? m revered father-in-law gave me unless had been assured the family were all of! for Europe, and—” “Euro 1’ and Blanche sprung from the chair, e as death. “Oh, Barbara, then you have eceived me again? How can I bear it? How can I live?” The hot tears, forced from a doubly-bruised heart, fell on her baby’s face, making it move restlessl in its slumber. “M scorch you, don’t they little one? 1 Oh, I would to God we were both sleeping the nlee that tears could not disturb, nor any tron 1e awaken.” She spoke in passionate earnestness, such as neither Barbara nor De Laurian had ever seen her evince before. “You must not wish such a terrible calamity Blanche, for who knows what good fortune Will yet dissipate the cloud that seems so dense!” He glanced at Barbara as he spoke, with an e ression of challengingb wer. It‘s not at all proba e that Mrs. Davenal ill ever find her condition bettered, sir ” she : fled, coldly; “at least, not while am alive.” “But on may die,” he returned, carelessly, “ or be filed.” “ r. De Laurian”——and by a mighty effort she forced herself to be calm outwardly, while a fearful fire was raging within—“you have intruded yourself upon me to—night as no gen- ggeman?” would; will you be so good as to re- “If my resence annoys you, madam, per- haps you w be rejoiced to learn that I did no come to Chetwynd Chase to see you. I came pun-lposely to see Blanche, and for a cause that wil not annoy her, I am sure.” His brows wore a gathering frown as he ad- dressed Barbara, and then, not waiting for any answer she might give, turned aw; as if utter- gc oringher, and leaned res fully on the of the tall Gothic chair B anche occupied. “If you will promise toforget and forgive the thoughtless words I used to you the last time I saw you, Blanche, I will promise to forget that I have last on forever, and, to prove how sin- cere I am, am going to save Jon.” Barbara across the cor like a tigress and conan h m. “ I will not listen to such language, Gervaise De Laurian! Touch er at your peril!” ‘f Exactly; you can lay queen of high tragedy as well now as ever, rceive.” Blanche had arisen m her chair in painful suspense as he ad her. _ ‘ ‘ YouwilltakemeawavwhereIwillbesafe . De Laurian, you kin me than I have beengiving you since I saw you last! But do not tell me, unle. you will. ‘, Another disap- pointment will kill me, I know,” "I will not fail you, Blanche. This very hour you leave Chase in theparriage that waits at the gate. , I ‘ ‘ He turned around to enjoy the blank expres- sion of Barbara’s face, that rapidly changed to one of desperate alarm. “ I will kill her where she stands iii-x? ' You shall not thwart me after all these moan and ears." “Iwill thwart you, Barbara Chetwynd. I have a memory that can never die of the hours I hovered over death’s chasms, and by that memory I swear to bathe you and deliver Blanche.” He spoke with awfully stern quiet, and Bar- bara knew he was no mean adversary with which to measure lances. “ And 1,” she retorted, in an equally intense tone,” “am ever haunted by the memory of an hour wherein I learned what you had made me! and by that memory I repeat my oath of sleep- less vengeance if you dare do this thing. An- other time, Gervaise De Laurian, success will crown my efforts.” “ Perha s,” be answered, meanin rly. “Will you ring or Regina. to bring Blane e’s and her infant’s clothes?’ “I will—I will, In self” answered the ner- vous 'rl, and she S])9( to the bell—rope and rung a pea that awoke weird echoes in that gloomy house. Several seconds a deathly silence reigned; Blanche jerked the tassel again and again, but there was no answer, and she turned, half-de— spairing] to De Laurian. He 8 ed assurin 1y. “Never mind; it is as I expected. I merely wished Regina to be summoned to demonstrate to Mrs. Chetwynd how utterly powerless she is to revent this step.” fear crept into Barbara’s eyes. Was there a conspirac ? * “ For the sake of filthy lucre, Mrs. Chetwynd, Regina has left your service and entered mine. She awaits in t e carriage, with all the neces- sary arments.” ar seemed stunned. “ So, you see,” he went on, relentlessly, “ you can‘t depend upon what anybody says; for in- stance, when I vowed to aid and abet you in kee ing Blanche a prisoner under her father’s roo . Little flecks of foam gathered in the corners of Barbara’s lips and her egos glowered like an infuriated beast brought su denly to bay. Her livid mouth essa ed to speak, but language seemed to have le t her. “Blanche, I am going towatch Mrs. Chet- wynd with this loaded revolver in my hand, that I shall direct at her tcm 1e. Do you take the Alf ban of! the sofa an wrap it around you an the little one, and hasten to the gate where the bronze fawn is. I will rejoin you in a moment, and drive you to a place of safety.” He never once moved his eyes off Barbara’s face' while Blanche, with almost superhuman , wrapped the sofa blanket about her and her babe, and flew out of the house and through the darkness to the appointed spot. At the gate stood a close carriage, and b it waited Regina, who lifted Blanche in, and t en seated herself, talking in tender, ityin and withal cheerful tones, explaining ow r. De Laurian had met her in the grounds that very evening and won her over to his side. In the drawing-room the two still stood si- lent and motionless, a terrible tableau to look upon. St? by step De Laurian retraced his way to the cor, his eyes never roaming from hat rigid, stony face to which the revolver was re- lentlessly in . At the cor he bowed, gayiy. “ Au revm'r, madam. ha I wish you pleas- ant dreams?" She made an effort to s ak, and De Laurian heard her swallow, as i a lump were in her throat. She advanced a pace, then slowly raised her hand and pointed her r at him. “ o—but, remember, have not done with you yet.” He smiled, mockin l , and closed the door. She heard the ans. 0 t 9 dead latch, and knew she was alone at e Witching midnight, in the house where she had wrought such dire misery. She heard the crunchin of the carria wheels as they rolled rapi y awa ; and s e knew, as ina dream, that Blanche avenal was safe from her jealous wrath and hate, but—and a fervent hope arose in her breast that De Lau- rian would rove a more terrible foe to her than ever she been! That De Laurian intended to restore Blanche to her parents husband and home she had not the remotest i ea. She knew him far too well to give him‘ any credit for such nobility of spirit. She knew he only used this method to get Blanche into his own power. Now, as she sat there all alone b grate, cursing De Laurian from e depths of her foul heart, and hurlin anathemas on the head of the woman who ha played hersofelse, she wondered what she had better do? Remain, as usual, at Chetwynd Chase? - Unless De Laurian chose to expose her there was no reason why she should leave it. had no confidence in Do Laurian’s not 8 her. At any moment he might brand her wi her guilt, and secure her a reward she did crave. There was not much to attach her to Chet- wynd Chase, now that the object of her sweet revenge was, indeed, beyond her power. She did not care for her husband, nor for the Chetwynds; and if she had, the fear of expo- sure would drive her away. Yes, she would go away. No human being should know where, and only De Laurian, why. Afterward—a wild, unnatural litter in her eyes alone denoted the current of er tho hte as she ascended the stairs to ack a hand-sate 81. At sunrise next mornin s e was gone, and the Chase was deserted and g oomy. CHAPTER XXXI. BEATING AGAINST THE BARS. \ THE carriage containing the party from Chet- wynd Chase drove rapidly along the star-lighted road, the silence wit iin unbroken by conversa- tion. A short distance only had been traversed, when Blanche fell asleep, overcome by the ex‘ citement she had undergone, and assisted by the easy motion of the carriage. the fireless It was early daybreak when she awoke, and " found the carriage had drawn up before the door of a large, handsome building of brick {iland marble trimmings; one of a row precisely ' c it. She looked anxiously from the window, and saw De Laurian gatherin r up the parcels. “ \Vhy, Regina, this is ew York!” She spoke in some suspicion. 1’ “ New York, mu’am, and a great deal better than Chetw and Chase. Let me take the baby, while on a ight.” Do urinn gravely and kindly assisted her from the carriage and up the marble stepsto the entrance. “ You will be obliged to remain here, Blanche, until I can rocurc the address of your in Europe, w1ich I can do at Mr. Che wynd’s banker’s, when I will telogra )h. I hope you will be comfortable; Regina 3 my strict 0r- dcrs to do everything for your comfort.” He was so grave, so kind and considerate that Blanche’s heart achcd for him. He must have suffered terribly when he learned she was the wife of another, and yet, with all that knowledge, he was aiding her to a reunion with R0 '. ller eyes were bri ht with tears as she seated herself in the chair 10 drew up to the window. “ Oh Mr. De Laurian, how can I ever thank on? It seems so strange tothink you should he doing all this.” ‘ He turned his head away for a second, as if to hide some emotion. “ I only desire to secure your truest friend- ship in the Place of the dearer sentiment I lost. Regina, wil you see that the cook has break- fast up i” Blanche was so rateful to him. Every thing was arranged witi such perfect go'od taste; a furnished house, a competent housekee r, and gina. IVhat could be nicer! Ands e shud- dered as she contrasted this delightfully cozy home with her cheerless room at Chetwynd Chase. She asked Regina on what street the were , but Regina didn’t know. Blanche not much care, so happy was she with her bah , her personal liberty and the assurance of Laurian that he had telegraphed to'her fathe! iithiverpool, where his permanent addresswas e t It might be several days before an answer came De Laurian said, for the y might'bo traveling through some quiet 1i 9 town where mail communication was infrequent. But he bade Blanche cheer up and ticntly. A weekrollod by, and there came no answers lng telegram; Blanche wondered a little atflrlt, then ew nervous and geculative, and finally sent glue to ask Mr. 9 Lauriantocomenp to the parlor, he must see him. " '. He was finishing a was delivered. ‘2 But she ‘ cigar whenthe ’ "n.1,? . i, ‘ ‘9. ,. . ..-w .I A' .. Ix - .v . .4. fly \fib _’ _ moved WAS SHE HIS WIFE? ‘23 09.1 man be with her at once, Regina,” and he -_owered his voice to one of confidential mean- ;j 113? “ I depend upon you. You will not fail?" bowed her insurance, and allowed m to precede her from the room. be u the basement stairs, with :1 ~15 curious smile on " face, he looked back a mo- ment. ~“ You may as well secure the doors, as I ex- ' ” tun-«sf Then he ascended leisurely and entered the . drawing—room, shutting the door as he passed I thro h. “ Well, Blanche?” “Oh, Mr. De Laurian, what do you think can be the reason we get no weal? 2£18.11 anything have ha ned to Boy or me er. ' .“I thgnpok nothing has happened to them to 5 make you uneasy.’ m “ Then, why don’t they answer! De Inurian looked across the room at 8', Blanche’s sweet, girlish face, all aglow with the returning spirits that lent such radiant beauty . teller. ,,‘ He moved his chair nearer to her before he he. spgi think I know the reason, Blanche. Do i i, you wish it?” There was something in his peculiar tone of voice no less than language, that made her in- :tan y raise her eyes to his own in a vague un— easlness. “Certainly, Mr. De Laurian, if you know "1, wk O” I-Ib deliberately rose from his chair and crossed ‘ the narrow space that intervened between him- mlf and Blanche. Layingwhls hand li§htly on theka of her chair, e nt his hea to her . " face, and very Quietly, Very meaningly, told it “Because Blanche, Idid not telegra h.” She sprurig afl‘riglhtedly from her cEair, and ' confronted him wit dllated eyes. “You did not telegraph? Mr. De Laurian, You have assured mo tune after time that you ‘ did .” ' 81?: was alarmed, and he saw that such was “Site-down again, Blanche, and let me ex— 7’ p “No, I would rather stand. But, Mr_ De Liturian on can go at once and send a dis- ill you not? or I will.” Hell compressed his lips more sternly, and Blanche, With a sinking heart, wondered what . new calamit was about to overtake her. 2 0 that readful, dreadful Curse of Chet— 1 " wyn Chase! L ‘I will be explicit and candid, Blanche. I did not telegraph, and I shall not telegraph for thesame reason. Do you SUppOSe for one mo- ment that I am going to surrender my wife to ther ’ . mghen r heart indeed almost broke with the . ~ ominous words, and she shrunk away, mm the rfurthest corner of the room, her startled eyes fixeden his smiling, handsome face. “Yoqu not repulsed by my truthfulness e r “ Mrs. Davenal, in the future, whenever you dare address me 1’ - ' Her indignant tones made no difference to his ltern‘ moc in smile. “ion spea treason, Blanche. Did not, With my own hands place the marriage-rulg on our finger? Am i not alive before you to- ?” . . here was crowmg triumph in his voice. ' . “You have done all nyou claim, Mr. De Lau- é . rian, yet when I solem {affirm that I am, by ‘ ‘ every right, the Wife 0 R0 a1 Davenal, you cannot but secretly confirm t e truth.” ‘ “ Your reasoning 18 Worth a woman,” ho re— ined, pleasantly, “ still if choose to assume . my legal authority. you cannot well help it. ‘ This is my house; you have hVed here as its 05. 9+? . tensible mistress a Woeli' have mentioned you .‘ u my wife, and theBglllldhlsgupposod to be ours. ' ‘ Win do am .e . Ha: £5210 bright With the 1“5‘1”, and she the door. on think I shall allow Bil?v31:aex!cg§eg to blind me? No, in- “. deed. You are m wife, and as suchshan I -' claim you before be world. As my Wifef you ’1‘ a heveno to leave your husband 8 1‘00 and Won in this romantic style. . Be reasona- ‘9 Blancth for. my oath upon it» vou f , .“No, no, ‘ any such sha remain here with me so long as I choose to remain.” “ Mr. De Laurian,” and Blanche replied 'in low, thrilling tones, and as she moved from the shadow to the light her pale face and intensely bright eyes almost startled him, “ do you desire me to understand that I am a prisoner here, in New York, with a dozen policemen in call from any window ill the house i” He bowed politely. “ You are perfec 1y correct in your surnlises. Of what avall are a whole squad of police if you do not summon them? And suppose the win- dows are so well guarded that it is decidedly impossible to raise them, the shutters so ar- ranged that you cannot gesture thron rll them, and the walls so thick no voice or com lination of voices can be heard beyond them?” The hot color rushed to her face. “ Monster 1 how ever could I have trusted you?” An amused laugh fell from his li ls. “ I have asked myself that question more than once. It is rather singular, to sa the least.” Suddenly she hastened up to im, with ex— tended hand and agonized face, as if the horror of the position had unnerved her. “Mr. De Laurian, surely, surely you do not mean all you sa ’9” “ I do mean a l, and more than I say. ” , His even, dispassionate tones fell like a death- knell on her cars. A duskggpaleness overspread her face and a chilling rror crept into her sweet, hunted e '03. )“ Mr. De Laurian, the day will come when, in sackcloth and ashes, you Will repent this deed. I, who never have wronged ou in word or deed, do not regard you my jai er, or this house my prison. I am in.the ands of an all-wise God, and this dense cloud through which I am groping is a Providential dispensation, which, though I cannot comprehend, I do not presume to question, and accept, as submissiver as I can, and trying to believe that there is light ahead for me even vet.” Her reverent, half-pitiful words elicited but a stately bend of his hardened neck as he passed through the door, and assuring himself as he went that the entrances were all secured beyond the possibility of mistake. CHAPTER XXXII. ' A STRANGE, STRANGE STORY. As soon as Do Laurian had returnedto the basement Blanche instantly left the drawing- room and ascended to her private bedroom where her little one lay asleep. She locked and bolted the door, and without a moment’s hesita- tion, commenced to fold neatly together the plentiful sup 1y of clotllin Re 'na’s careful orethougllt ad supplied w en t ey left Chet- w nd Chase. his done she rung for Re inn, and sat down by the bedside, where her b slept, with a nervous litter in her eyes an atrembling of her pallidglips. Very shortly Regina’s footsteps came sound- ing through the hall, and paused at her door; then when Blanche had unlocked the door, she entered, while the door was again secured. “Sit down, Regina, I want to talk to you; not as a servant but as a friend who has a woman’s heart. have no friends left, Regina, unless on will be one.” . Her 0w sad voice’ brought a sudden twitch- mg to Regina’s lips, and she drew her handker- chief across her mouth as if anxious to hide the weakness of which she was ashamed. “I hope I never have been unkind to you, Mrs. Davenal.” “Oh, no; I know that. Indeed you have been most kind in your attention and services. But, Regina, we have both been most cruelly deceived by Mr. De Laurian, who has onl res- cued mo from Barbara Chetwynd’s power use his own. Regina, when v‘ did you learn that he was not dead.” A dull red flush crept slowly over the woman’s check before she answered. “I cannot remember the exact day when I first knew of it.” _ . Her evasive answsr elicited surprise from lanche. “ Why, Be ina, purelyr ou must know! Why do you lush so? Is here any mystery that you are connected With? Regina, dear Regina, tell me all, and let us be friends that can counsel each other, on whom each can de- pend.” Blanche wound her arm in sweet persuasion around the woman’s neck, and felt that strong, masculine frame shivering under the touch .r I “ Mrs. Davenal, you never can know the bur- den I am bearin ,and have borne so long, so long! Oh, if I o y might tell you!” It came out in a sudden and almost unac- countable burn of im ulsive thos,’ these strange words of Regina 3, and B anche’s eyes dilated as she looked upon the quiVering mouth and moist e es of the woman, who, until this moment, always been the impersonation of repellent sternness and disagreeableness, al- though, as she herself averred, and Blanche ad- mitted, her action had been marked with a. ten- dcr kindness and delicacy of attention strangely at variance with her appearance. “ You know all my sorrow, Regina, and that I can appreciate all yours. You know I have endured enough to dethrone my reason, and yet a merciful God has spared me until now; and I will believe He will lead me yet to the light. Tell me 1 our troublesz Regina, and let me at least con ole with on. ’ . . _ Regina bent her ead a moment as if deadlg a vexed question; when she raised it and smll at Blanche, she looked like a new bein , so oom- letely had Blanche’s womanliness wor ed u in her rough spirit. and aroused the softer sensi ' - ties of a nature blunted by circumstances. I “ Mrs. Davenal, do you remember when I first entered service at Chetwynd Chase?” “ Distinctl ; it was just previous to my mar- ria e to Mr. e Laurian.” S e involuntarily shivered as she spoke of it, and at its mention, Regma' ’3 round, bead-like eyes fairly snapped. “ You are right. I came unrecommended, just when you Were short of help, offering to forfeit a month’s w es if my services were not satisfactory. Miss bara was not at home then.” r Therewas stran sigm'flcance in her voice; a mingled anger an sorrow. “ 0, she was—you know where she was, Regina, those weeks we all supposed her on a v1s1t?” “I do; and I knew lon before I heard her tell you the story that ni t in the observatory chamber. I knew it an knew her, and knew Mr. De Laurian long before I ever saw Chet- wynd Chase. I knew you, too, Mrs. Davenal, w en yo-l were a baby no bigger than the little one yonder.” There was calm truthfulness in her eyes and voice, and manner, although Blanche stared in- credulousl at her. u ’ pi “It is true; I amgoing back tothe Mrs. Davenal and am not going to keep any thing back. When you’ve heard all m story if you’ll take me for your friend, I swear allegiance afresh to you and yours.” ' Again that same s1 ‘ cance of Ian , and Blanche looked back in thoso ugly, truthful eyes with a glance of bewildered be p essness. “ I am so mystified, Re 'na, and et I am so sure I can trust you. Di on y say you would swear feal afresh Have you ever done so before? en, Regina?” She was nervous; her white hands and unclasped in a tremulous, unoonsolable ex- citement as she waited for a solution to this mystery. “ First of all, Mrs. Davenal, I have to tell you that when on were born I was the nurse who took care 0 your mother and yourself, There ls nothing wonderful in that is there?” “No; it is simply a. coinci enee. Go on.” Blanche spoke in a low, intense voice that be- trayed her eep interest. Yes, it was an incident that has molded my life, more or less, ever since—that for the ear, has affected it entirel . Had I never hired Mrs. Chetwynd, I won] have been a happier woman to-day, with a less horrible load eternal- ly crushing me down.” beShe paused and gazed dreamin at her lis- ner. ‘ 1“. Oh, do go on,” said Blanche, almost in a w ns r. "‘ raDavenal,areym1afruidoer.DeIau- rian?" ‘ | She asked the question abruptly. “Afraid! 0h, Regina, I do not know howJ regard him. He temfies me so; heabused Bar- “Well, I am more afraid of him than any- bod in this wide world.” ' v B che interrupted her in a low stern tene. “And yet you deliberately wt in his em« plo !” :2, Not deliberate] , Mrs. Devenal, but eon- gsglentiously. “Inigo! awedtMm became I ‘ near you; serve you, french ifneods asan wouldin Chetwyn bomber-bare (Mo ‘troublee, thatlusedto herherwish easier,the mt: mammnt or so most'tsintiaggentlsmanto 24 promised allegiance as I have promised Gervsise De Laurian; with whom I broke my faithfias I shall break it with him.” A ttle sob of joy broke from Blanche’s lips. “Youwill save me, dear Regina? You will let me out of this house, free as the air?” “ ore the night-shades fall, MrsuDavenal, I solemn] swear you shall be out of that front door, w: your baby in your arms free to go wherever you please, back to Chetwynd Chase, to a hotel to await the answer of a telegram , you will of course send—or anywhere you choose.” ' Blanche rapturoust kissed the brown, horny hand that she moistened with her glad tears. “God ever bless you, Regina! And now for the rest of your strange story.” ,.“A year a , while Barbara-you will learn directly why call her so informally—and De Laurian were on their pleasure tour, Ifirst made his acquaintance. I was in a second-hand jew- eler’slstore, 'ng to dispose of a ring I had had given me, an for which I referred 1ts value in money as I was almost esperate in my pov- erty. ’Mr. De Laurian was looking through some old-fashioned curiosities for a riceless bauble I heard him offer a hundred dol are for. “ I looked up at him, wondering why he was so lavish of mono and I so poor, when I sud- denly caughtsi h of a broken old chain and an opal stone—t 6 other half of e ornament he had offered so great a sum for. “_ My heart gave a bound—I possessed the re- maining portion of that chain and opal and my cheeks crimsoned as I was thus suddenly re- minded of how I came by it. “I offered to show him the gem; he accom- panied me home, and paid me the money for my treasure, and as much more for the informa- tion I ave him; and as it startled him, so will it gang) you, Mrs. Davenal.” lanche was listening intently, and Regina , went slowl on. “ I told ' there was a legend connected with that broken Opal stone, that was marked as though ti}; Bngre stone had borne three perfect rs, ‘ . ‘ Sure enough, when he compared the half he had and the alt I had the surmise was correct. He told me t en how he had stolen the chain— you will remember he pretended it fell into a grating? He let it fall up his coat-sleeve.” Blanche started with rise. “ I remember it well. Can it be possible? It was our only relic of Barbara’s identity, if ever h should be traced out. ” “ It was traced out, Mrs. Davenal. I held the key to unlock that secret, and Gervaise De Lau- rian’s money bou ht the key. He knew then, before he dese Barbara who she was; he gowgnto-day who she is. IWould you like to ow Regina asked the uestion almost pityingly. “ Indeed, I woulde’ “ Mrs. Davenal, do not hate her for what she has done when I tell on it is she, and not you who 3 y inherits e ‘Curse of Chetwynd Chase,’ because, Mrs. Davenal, Barbara is our sister—your 1younger, twin-sister, born an our after yourse from her chair in a transport Blanche jun: of astonishmen . “ Regina, what do you mean to tell me? She —she MY sister? the child of my fiarents? And I t never know it? Regina, ow can I be- e , incredible sto i” “Incredible as it may seem can prove it and show you why your n never knew it —why the mother never w she gave birth to a second daughter. “For the hree months I was in attendance revious to her illness, In heart used car her lament over tha fatal Curse she feared would yet fall on a child of hers. She hasoften fallen on her knees and prayed that God would give her sons and no daughters. “She was so gentle and tient amid all her I could die to gain ‘f But, when. the trial came you her da h- ter was born, and, overcome 'by the fear t it"; "how‘é‘fi‘i" ‘” ‘fii’il'adefii‘db’iimoi’é‘. a e rs. e was lama fearful convi’ilsidns that "Hka sight,Mr Che d . W88 ' ' rang: lathe room; Mrs. etwynd left her in m ollowed the - ian he 1 rendersomeenconr- half hour,leaving orderswith me if was the slightest hangs. W’AS SHE HIS WIFE?) \ ‘ "Then it was, Mrs. Davenal, that Barbara ‘ Re , l l //! , K / x was born, with only myself to ofiiciate. “ I remembered all our oor mother‘s pray- ers; I knew you wo d no inherit t’w -:'urse then, and it would be a Christian Hik'!x‘_'.‘, I thought, to conceal this birth from everybody, and allow Mrs. Chetw d, if she recovered, to learn, little by little, t you. She might attribute it to whatever cause she leased. “ I took the babe away; I ke t her, named her Barbara Lester, and, when s e was older, left her at her father’s door, knowing your mo- ther’s great-heartedness and kindness.” Blanche had listened in ra t attention. “ But the severed 0 an broken chain that was on or person? have so often heard my mother wonder what it could mean. We de- cided, one do. , that it had meant her initials, and marvels at its similarity to the legendary three D’s that denoted the ‘ Dishonor, Descrtion and Deat ’of the formed Curse. Later, when a letter came, telling us her name was ‘ Barbara Lester,’ we onl thought we had been mistaken, and ceased cal in her ‘ Della.’ ” “Whether I di right or wrong, I leave you to decide. Whether my after course was right or wron , I leave you to 'udge; but when I sent the chil to her ri htful ome, I sent that half- gewel and kept t e rest for two reasons: one, hat 1 ht claim her in the future by it—the proof wo d be 'tive. The other, a vague Kearnin to some ow or other identify her with er fanfily legacy. It seems that I succeeded partially. “Then, when ou saw De Laurian?” Blanche gentl su . “I orgotten. Yes, when I saw him, and had told him all this story, and he, in turn, told me his, I hated him, despised him, and feared him; yet, accor ' to his directions, sought an engagement at hot d Chase, resolved, though I ostensibly went his interest to learn, if I could, what Barbara would do when she returned, as he felt sure she would, to renew my watchful care over both the babies I once had soloved. But, when Barbara made me her con- fidante and I learned the infernal blackness of or soul I loathed her in froportion as I piticd you. How I felt when knew she intended mung De Laurian, deeply though I disliked and censured him! It was 1, Mrs. Davcnal, who managed to dilute the drug with which she saturated that forged letter ' it was I who watched over him in his co in the vault kno ' death was but simulated. He doesn’t know t ough, that he owes his escape to me who left unlocked the door of the vault, and with my own ds unscrewed the coffin face. I could not see murder done.” Blanche was shiverin from head to foot with this weird, strange reci ; and yet, inspired by the fascination, ur Regina to go on. “ Ther is little else to tell, Mrs. Davenal. I used to t 'nk at times I would lose my senses when I saw her pour the daily drop of liquid poison in your wine, your medicine or your sou . I used to wonder if I should not expose it 1, regardless of the reckless punishment she would not have hesitated ving me. But I was a craven, a coward, and let you go on and on down to (your grave, knowing, however, that you won] be rescued from i , and swearing then to save you some time, when her cat-like vigilance was removed.” ‘We will forget it all, dear Regina! You will be my helper now? you will save me from De Laurian, who swears I am his wife, and threatens such terrible thin ?” “I will save you, Mrs. avenal. And when ou are safe in lyour mother’s arms, you will less me with a b eming that perhaps W111 sweep all this burden away. The woman’s hard eyes filled with tears, and her voice was husk and hoarse. “ Inde s never be censured—never! But where I go? You will go too?” .“If Imay: when De Lauriangoes out after dinner, and leaves you in my care we will go. once’on the street, we can fly to wherever you “ It must not be to Chetwynd Chase! I must telgfiraph at once to Roy, and wait at a hotel un he comes. I can readily prove my iden- tity to Braxton and Drayton, our solicitors, and they will see that my chm is honored for the ‘%m“f££”d"' 1 - a vi u a ere were owmgwx v1 0 ,an her eyes overlie with negvous thanlJulness as she aroseto take her babe, that, awakened, smiled in her face. ‘ “It seems as if m little girl appreciated my f ,doesn’t it, coald. ut see her! my precious li a one!” gins? IfRo and mother \ t no fatal curse fell on 1 bent a smile of encouraging upon er. ' “Have patience, Mrs. Davenal. It will only be a fortnight at the furthest before they arrive . home; for, of course, they will not delay am ment. And I think the meeting will repay you for all you have undergone.” “It almost takes away my breath to think of it! Regina, if you will, I glefer lunch here in, my room; and then, how 11 I pass the thus long hours between now and liberty?” v CHAPTER XXXIII. AN OLD FRIEND. Issrsnn of waiting the three hours that in- tervened between her luncheon hour and the dinner-time, Regina told Blanche a better portunity presented itself for their immedia removal. Mr. De Laurian had left word that hewas called out of the city and desired dinner de- la ed about an hour. e had left no special message for Blanche’s security, doubtless feeling perfect confidence in the woman he had obtained to take charge of er. - It was not yet four o’clock, when, attired in a plain black alpaca dress and shawl, avail draped over her straw bonnet, and her baby wra ped in a Marseilles circular Blanche walk- gd th ough the front door, that unlocked or er. Once outside, on the top of the marble of steps, her head grew giddy with the sud A new sense of om. Never before had she a}; ciated the sun- shine and the air as she did all warm, pleasant early August afternoon; her: whole soul was fill with such an overpowering sense of thank- ful, triumphant joy, that she seemed treading on air. a. Regina put down the dead latch, and followed Blanche’s rapid footsteps. At the first corner she glanced up, and learn- ed, for the first time in What street she had been staying; withou a moment’s, hesitation she turned toward Broadway, and walked until she reached the City Hall Park. Here she summoned a neat little can , and she, her babe and Regina were driven to the office of Braxton and Drayton. She did not slight, but sent Regina in to tell the startling truth to either of the partners 1: Mrs. Royal Davenal was alive and desired y a moment’s interview. * Regina evidently told the whole of the wild story, for she was closeted in the private oflioe nearly an hour: and then, bewildered and in- credulous, a white—headed old gentlemancame out to the door of the coupe. He just glanced in, and cl his hands in stricken astonishment, as thong the proofwere more strange than the story. \ , “God bless me! Can it be possible? I! it really you, my dear child?”' h.A soft smile—Blanche’s very own—answered 1m. ‘ “ I am more than happy'to say that it reallyis I. Mr. Drayton, I am sure on congratulate me?” And then she told him s e needed moneymd advice; both of which he gave her, and “0 accompanied her to the office, and himself mint the dispatch by cable. 4 3 Most assuredly he did not advise her to to ' a hotel; she must certainl go home withfiln. Mrs. Drayton would on] he too delightedand thankful to see her. S e would be safe and well cared for until her returned. And nothin at the hospita is home of her father’s stench friend, to await the arrival of those who would greet her as from the dead. . ‘ ’ The were very quiet happy day! to howd- beit rkened at times by scorching memories. was worse to her, all those remem- deed thatamster" shandhaddonetbe But was Barbara her sister, her mother’s child? How could Mrs. Chetwynd have lived with her so many, many years, and never have reco , by natural instinct, that shewas her own a Blanche was sorely puzzled about it. Over and over again she questioned Regina, always elicitin the same unvarying story. Mr. rayton, towhom Blanche confidedevery tient, stolid woman, and he was satisfied (1 perfect truth of her story. ' , Blanche had askedhimif itwouldhelswfnl for GervmseDe Inuriantoholdhera's thing, questioned and cross-questioned them loath, B anc 0 made her abode ’ ' i g \ i V a... a: :2 rs Y’s? an: ‘ 'm. a l'y’ 3 r, .., i l if, I W7 1 3 our I—I u D- W'I‘Ulf'i .‘Lu. 4 3“ 55' B?85§5B_Sa.aaaor 55% ER? s c 3 iiffiiii Eii’ ' with m. gum. WAS q' SHE E U 25 stances, she was legally Royal Davenal's wife. on whom Mr. De laurlan had not the srightest lawful or moral claim. Moreover, it did not look well for De Laurian to have he t himaelf hidden so long. He must have nothing at all for Blanche, or he would have hastened to her at once and ex- lained every thing. That waiting. until Blanche was married again, and then coming forward to harass her, was extremely against hi m. Again, why had he not had a charge of at vtompted murder brought against Barbara Chet— wynd? Why had be permitted her to 0 on in her evil way. and then revenge f upon her in so peculiar a manner! _ Mr. Drayton carefully examined the case in all its aspects, and decided upon three points: F‘ , to render assurance doubly sure, Blanche should secure a legal divorce from Gervaise De Laurian. . Second, since De Laurian had survived the attempt upon his life made by Mrs. Barbara Chetwynd—then Barbara Lester—she could not be made to suffer for it unless De Laurian him- self should be the prosecutor. Third, it remained at Blanche‘s own option to arrest her on acharge of attempted murder, if the was still at Chetwynd Chase, which he very much uestioned. The (hrst of Mr. Dra n‘s suggestions was immediately attended , so that before the family sat down to dinner Mr. Drayton and Blanche had made all necessary reliminary ar- rangements with an influential) lawyer. who promised. under the uliar circumstances, to obtain a decree very s ortli. ' The second suggestion s e had nothing to do with; the last aflected her most nfull . How could she, even after al she had under one at Barbara’s hands, deliberately deliver or u tojusticei Had she been a stran r, Blancge’s tender, mercy would have prevai ed: but her sister—as she now fully believed—no, She could not ever do that. So, her mind freed from its burdens. Blanche happily the days that intervened be- Ween her departure from De Laurian‘s house and the e arrival of the steamer that mid bring father, mother. cousin and hus- (1. Mr. Drayton had received no reply to his tel 111, and, indeed, he had not expected it. e knew well that the miraculous news he had sent with the summons~“ The dead is risen ~Blanche is alive—come at once ”—would them on their way at the first available oppor- tunity. vHowever because he thought Blanche would be pleased, he had also telegraphed to the office of the Cunard Line in Live 1 for the list of cabin passengers that shoul sail by the first home-bound vessel. days after had come a reply; a list of leventy names was sent, and among them t.th Of Mr. Rexton Chetwvnd, wife and servant, Royal Davennl, Rex Chetwynd, Jr., per steam- er ‘Paciflc.” Anxioust had. Blanche watched the sunris- ings and sunsetth and now, a fortnight and three days after 9 had j0ined the Draytons' family Circle, the kind-hearted old man came down from his office at the unseasonsr ble hour of twelve. “ Blamhe, dear child! the Pacific's in!" CHAPTER XXXIV. THE VACANT cam. VERY cozil indeed looked‘he dining-room of Mr. De La n’s house that evening as he on- tered it from the: lare and racket outside in the mystreets. Histllusiness completed to his sat- iatoction, he felt in a very del' htful mood as he “untamed into the library, an from thence to “to elegant dining-room. The rawing-room was empty, he had seen as he passed by and no noises were to be heard in libe house. Begins. was invisible. but his chef “MM was all attention, and he sat down to the delicious dinner in solitary state. I He leaned back ill his chair, carelessly tnylng )on as he glanced OVer the 8 Papers. W ile the stately ebon statue the coffee. The cloth was laid for two, whim W unusual, Blanche preferring hcr M in her own mm in?“ my 3° I’ll‘e was he that she would 135° to his do that before he left the house he had given ordenl for the Incond late. able WI! View! decorated with massive Ovenln The spies-e plate, gleaming crystal and rose and gold—band» ed Sevres China, and it had been the thought of how Blanche’s sweet face would 100k behind the coffee-urn that had sped him home that even- ln . ;Through the oran e-silk curtains the last sun- setting rays were f 'ng, and yet Blanche had not come, or sent. Where was she then, he wondered? At first, he had believed her repulse was genuine, and he had hit his lips in disappointment; but. as he thou ht of it, it seemed to him that she could not )ut reconsider her indignant denial. He grew impatient, and rung for Regina. Receiving no answer to his imperative sum- mons, and not daring to think anything could be the matter, he himself went up-stairs direct to e(tihe front chamber which Blanche had occu- pl . To his horror and consternation it was em ty‘ She and Regina were gone; Blanche hall) 3— on \d him! ith a muttered curse on his lips he sat down to consider what to do. There was but one explanation to the disap- pearance. Re ina had played him false. and. together with lanche, had sought safety and libert . “ The old witch! the treacherous cat!" The words hissed from his 1i as he ced to and fro in the elegant room, his e es b oodshot with anger, his lips trembling wit passion un- der his amber mustache. She had not returned to Chetwynd Chase he felt almost certain; in New York, who was there to whom she could fly! He hit his lips as he thought of Braxton and Dra 'ton. “ t is to them she has appealed, and I doubt not that by this very moment that long-delayed message is on its way? Perdition seize me for trustin to any woman’s word!” His elicate dinner was untouched that night, and the man had his orders to take it away: while De Laurian, too restless to remain seated, too an y to enjo ' a cigar, wandered aim— lessly t rough the ouse. He had been at rcat EXEGIISG in furnishing it, as he believ Blane e would ap rove. Everything had been done with an eye her taste, and she had cordially admired, little knowing it was intended for a gilded cage for nor. He would be obliged to go to work ver cau- tiously to gain the clue of her wherea ute; and as he had but lately mingled among men as he used to do, he rather dreaded any notoriety when it became known that not he alone, but Blanche Davenal also, had, as it were, arisen from their graves. He knew, as well as old Mr. Drayton, that he could not com 1 Blanche to render him obedi- ence; and he knew that Blanche would be approved by all the world in her allegiance to Reg; Davenal. he sat and walked all that night, layin his lans. And when morning came he had dec ded hat “the e was not worth the candle.” In other wo ', his love for Blanche was secondary to the desire he had felt to humble her—and battle Barbara Chetwynd. But although he decided to let Roy have Blanche without any trouble on his part he was not at all so willing that Blanche should escape so easily from his hands. She had defied him in word and deed; she had thwarted him when all things seemed most aus- picious. He had rescued her, and now he was very much disposed to hunt her down on an— other track, 'ust to show her she could not, with im unity, a 0rd to baffle him. 0 immediate neighbors might have won- dered where the lady, her nurse and baby had gone so suddenly; but no questions were pre- sumcd upon. The next morning after Blanche’s escape a red fla was hung out the window; the furni— ture so d at a “tremendous sacrifice,” and No. — street, left alone in Rs glory. Mr. De Laurian had driven away in a coupe, and that was the end of the little episode in that direction. Bu”, during the two weeks that Blanche was at Dmyton‘s, awaiting her husband’s and pa~ rents’ coml , De Laurian was not idle. He ta n a room at the Astor House, from which place he pursued his investigations as to Blanche’s whereabouts. A rivate detec~ tive was acquainted with the 1 mg facts, and retfiuested to discover her present abode. at only within a week did De Laurian learn she was soiourning at Mr. Drayton’s, on West Twelltyeig 1th street but that a divorce was filed against him in King’s office. that news 1W1 ——_ i i l been sent across the Atlantic of Mrs. Davenal's safety, that the “ Pacific ” mail steamship Woull bring the party, and that Regina was in con- stant, devo dance upon her young mis» tress. To all this > of facts, De Laurian listened most earnestly , id the detective and dismissed So, then, all was fair weather, with Mix. Rev Davenal. She had weathered the storm". and was anchored fast in the harbor. He smiled as he thought that, then coolly lighted a cigar and commenced smoking it, as lfie slowly promenaded the apartment he callc 1 is. A week of the time since Blanche had escaped him had passed, and he had been nursing in h‘:\ heart the suggestions it had given him. It mm 7 tered not that Blanche had suffered so that sho- was all unsinning herself in the matter; his own heart, as base as ever beat, was still revengeful. if not jealous, and the novelty of being baffled by her lent strength to his determination to reach her yet. Iiis thoughts were intensely occu ied now by a villainous scheme he had arranged) for her. Barbara Chetwynd was out o the way; Re- gina should not suspect: Blanche believed her- self perfectly secure ; hence, it was the time to strike, if ever. The only difficulty he ex rienced was, the trouble he whether it would “ pav ” him a would be obliged to take. With his cigar in his month he walked out into Broadway to decide. .—3_ The entire family of the Draytons had driven in their barouche down tothe Cunard landing to welcome the returning party, whose arriva was the occasion of so strange and ecstatic a 0v. 1 Blanche, almost faint from her emit impa- tience, remained at the house, where s e might meet them and be greeted by the solemn privacy of home. Above-stairs, Regina watched the little Con- stanzia, as she slept among her laces and ruffles ——the little one of whose existence its father did not know, or dparents dream. Blanche dressed the baby with infinite care, in a robe worth its name and relation~ ship. A wide azure sil msh was tied around it. 81 elegant pearl and ruby armlets looped its eeves. The yo mother had kissed it and given it to Regina w ile she went down to the parlor. Slowly as the minutes passed, it was not long before a cab rattled up to the door and, throng the hot, blinding tears that hung like mist over her strained eyes. Blanche saw first Roy leap therefrom, in impatient haste, followed by Mrs Chetwynd and her father. There was one second of a ' waiting, and then, with sobs of re turous joy, too intense for words, Roy rushed in the room and clasped her in his arms. It was a wild, fearful embrace: that ing his loved from the grave, as it were; 19 the mother, in an agony of tears, so keen were her r emotions, a hand, and Mr. Chetwynd another. Scarcel a word was spoken: a solemn, holy icy, too eep for utterance, bound them in sl— ence. Then Roy led her away to the window, and in her soft, sweet eyes, as though his senses never again could be filled with the sight of her. Later, when their tongues were unloosened, and questions could be ed and answered, the whole pitifully-sad story was told, from begin- ning to end. At first Mr. and Mrs. Chetwvnd could not credit the truth; but when Regina was called down from the slumbering babe, and Mr. Dray— ton added his belief, they, too were constrained to accept the unwelcome tru . It was a t shock to them, and Rex, as he listened in dumb silence, grew pitiful to behold, as all his love Confidence, was swept away at one fell ow. “And yethillrefusetocredit all," he sat plrl‘oudl’. “I will see her first, and than t en— His face w stony with the anguish sug- gested, and turned away to hide it. . And all this while Blanche was hoopla her sweet slecret; then, when Mm.“d m was earnest y questioni ' . yton engaging her father mmrsation, she on from the room, with beating' Mm little Constanna down. But Roy’s eyes saw her depart, and immedia y he followed her. overtaking her at the foot of the stairs. g 25 WAS SHE HIS Wigs? r. “I couldn‘t lose the sight ofyou so soon, even for woment. Oh, my darhng, my Own dar— ' e! lanche nestlx 1 in his was»; perfect peace shining from ‘ es. 5‘ You never can know, 111 f' : Roy, all the terrible an m ve ‘ through. But I am more than repaid, dearest, by this hour; and when you learn what I haVc been holding in reserve you will ha ha pier yet. toy”—a.nd she liftol her mouth to ' ear—- “ we’ve a baby daughter, alive and well, Little : (Llonstanziafl His face lighted up with a luminous pride. “My darling Blanche! indeed I am doubly blestl Take me. to her, that I nia' give her her father‘s blessing—this other litt e treasure snatched from the grave." With light steps and happy hearts, that left impress on their ex mctant faces, they entered the room, and tiptoe acrossto the lace—canopied crib. Blanche tenderly removed the linen sheet—— and a iercing scream burst from her. on love me ‘ " 0 has taken her out! Roy—where is my ; bab 'l” or loud, onized scream brought chiim in breathless ha Her countenance turned fair- ly "men with fear as she gazed, half bewildered, at the em ity crib. “ May ‘od help you—but I solemnly believe your bah has been stolen by Gervaise De Lau- rian! I lLft her sleepingaflftcen minutes ago, and no one in this house s come up—stairs.” With a. fearful, heart-curdling cry, Blanche sunk insensible beside the little vacant crib. CHAPTER XXXV. m “arm” or m nouns. stantly began their reign in Mr. Drayton’s man- sion. His family who, after tourists at the Cunard w arf, had, with com- mendable discretion, prolonged their drive home in order that the meeti might be private, ti the r turned I us 6 ' beauty was extolled in warmest terms, and her i gave up his room at the Astor, and s Little by little all hope of recovering baby Constanzia was abandoned, and the. weeks ichanged to months on their leaden pinioned . broodm over the unfortimate family. ‘ And all this while not a word had ever com of Barbara. Columns of rinted in the Herald, in al imaginable forms but had failed to elicit a word from her. Rex, restless and miserable, when the first l-I'xgnancy of his grief wore oil’, left Chetwynd’ Chase on a tour of investigation, and the imme- ‘ diate family settled down in a quiet, retirerI l i way, seeing visitors, of course, when they came, I i ' and pzaymg a few calls that courtesy impera- ‘* tively cmanded, and which their sorrows could i not be allowod to meddle with. And all these days Blanche Davenal’s heart ‘ was sinking, sinking with despair; her whole nature crying out against the awful, inhuman sin that had been committed against her; while Gervaise De Laurian— He had not remained in New York after the day of the Chetwynds arrival; it was very warm, and, in obedience to all his im ulses he artedofl' 1 on an aimless pleasure tour. Long Branch, Saratoga, Newport, were in turn patronized; then, ennuied, and leasure— : surfeited, he resolved to run over to ‘ngland, and if he enjoyed himself, tour it all over the continent. As with Gervaise De Lain-ian to will was to do. in a fortnight fter—while Blanche Davenal sat moanin an weeping amid the October brightness t at glowed around Chetwynd Chase —he smoked his ci r in a fashionable restau- rant in London, an wondered how he should : pass the first evening of his arrival. Conspicu— 1 ous among the placards on the wall of the bar- THE intensest confusion and excitement in- . room, was an announcement that Miss Ethel i Wyndham, the charmin actress and son tress, 1 that night appeared in t e famous role 0 “ Mu- riel, the Avenger,” in “ Hunted Down. ” Her j fledgling in her art, she drove up to learn the pit' ul news just as it be- 1 powerless to n that came known. Words seemed so depict the terrible anguish that came u household when the fact became 1m sputed ‘ that Mrs. Davenal’s baby had been kidnapped. It seemed so much harder to be borne, under 7 the peculiar circumstances that had reunited momma: 1Vivkhenflrligws went t1for‘!;h,da.s tit and, rea o sympa y an n on 3 assistance came pouring in a flood u them. Immense rewards were offered for t 9 return of the child, or information that would lend to its recovery. Detectives were sent out on Gervaise De I an— rian’s true for there was not the slightest 32:11? but he had done, or instigated, the But success was not to be now. Various false rumors reached them from day to day, but these all proved as such, and when a fortnight had gone, there was less clue than ever. Through all these trials, Blanche, the long- tried, sore-afflicted mother, lay in a delirium of fever; and in the terrific struggle between life and death, they feared if life were at last saved, her reason never could stand the shock. But when, the fever-light fled, she opened those sad, sad eyes that should never smile again, that would ever bear that brooding. eter- nal s ow in their brown dee , they knew she was sane, and for it thank the inscrutable gore ? house, that had mixed so bitter a cup for them _, Pallid, trembling and heartbroken, she de—‘ sired to be taken ome to Chetwynd Chase ; and. with and good- yes, they left the h ita- ble house of the Draytons, an returned to heir silent, long—deserted home just as the first Sep- tember days began, and there another surprise awaited them. They found the servants had returned from a i i 7 holiday Mrs. Rex had given them—Regina hav- . ing prepared them for that nf‘“'S-—i!ll(l finding the mansion deserted by Barbara. had taken upon themselves to force an entrance into the servatd wing, beyond which they had not in. Much as Mr. Chetw d and his wife, and Roy expected to find hardly pro for the grief and anguish that fell upon 1 when he could no longer doubt the fact of his wife’s foul perfldy and guilt. The poor fellow wandered throu h the h like, one demented; and what wi c grief, it seemed as if a Curse, indeed, . had enwrapped them all in its smn'ber folds. arba’ra gone, they were I , there Blanche’s I wondrous talent was too grand to express. A ad already had half London at her feet. So De Laurian strolled through the streets to the Prince of Wales Theater, where this star of the highest magnitude condescended to shine. so- cured a seat in the parquette, and, as usual with gentlemen of his 1e, began looking around or pretty women’s . To the preceding farce he paid no attention, nor was it until thunders of applause shook the as Miss yndham came gracefully to flights, that he turned his eyes to the the f e. 0 saw a magnificent—leoking woman, cold as an iceber , haughty as an empress, bowing to the ad ' g crowd. He saw the darkly flash- ing eyes, the streaming raven black hair, the perfect form, all as in a dream maze. Could it be possible? Was he in a trance, or Were all these people around him living beings? Was he real y himself, and was that brilliant woman on the boards of the Prince of Wales Theater she whom he had betrayed, who had me’him remember she “ was not yet done with ' i His eyes were riveted eagerly on her, watch— ing evcrv motion as she moved about the stage. Gradually he decided that the resemblance was not so great as he at first thought. Miss Wynd- ham’s voice, though mellow and pleasant. had not that rich redundancy of musical tone that "hers ” had. Again, and with a curse on his stupidity, he remembered “her” hair was brown (lee ily, darklv brown ’tis true, but very unlike liss lVyndham’s ehon tresses that curled in loose masses from forehead to waist, while “hers” had fallen one heavy, arrowy tress, almost to her knees. But this Miss Wyndham was superlating lovely; she was the “ rage,” and more than , to Gervaise De Laurian, she was “ now.” So, womeay of the same old faces, this bri ht, suimye one impressed him keenly, an he in un‘o quite earnestly about her. 6 learned she was only “ Miss " on the 6; she really was a widow, with one child, w 0 had come to London at the death of her hus- band, to earn her fortune by her art. Not a word that she uttered escaped him; his admiration increased, his interest deepened; and when a shower of bouquets and wreaths fell at her feet, at the conclusion of “Hunted Down,” was one tin offering of a tuberose and ' e leavss, which was attached a card “gag the name of the giver—“ Gervaise Do n. I :lsdarmswith iwings, while a sad, mute sorrow, seemed ever 1 ! rsonals had been ' CHAPTER XXXVI. VENGEANCE AT LAST. Ir was a delightful apartment in which Ethel Wyndham, the popular actress, was sitting, late that night. A little distance off stood a beautiful walnut cradle, with a high canopy of azure silk under I: white lace; in the cozy nest slept the actress’ l i babe; and watching it, with an expremion on her face that you never would have could have saddened its ripe, rare beauty. She had not removed her dress of amber satin in which she had performed the last act, and on her white arms and neck still gleamed the dia— monds that had flashed with every mum of her Airid her darkly—pale face. where it seemed a smile never again could come, was bent in ear— nest attention over the sleeping child. . “Grace,” she said, in those low, pleasant tones, to a colored nurse who dozed in her chair, 'Aelia has not awakened since i Went out! Bring me those smaller bouquets from the table, and take these boots off for me." She leaned wearily back in the cushioned chair watching the woman, as she deftly se- lector the desired articles, with that listless, calm, unambitious air so strangely at variance with the piquant brilliancy she assumed on the stage. One by one she lifted the flowers and in- haled their fragrance- then, removing from the rest the tiny s ray of geranium and tuberose, glanced easu at the card attached. As if stung a scorpion, she spnmg from her chair, dashing her lapful of blossoms right and. left. . “ Leave me alone, Grace, at once." Her voice was husky, and had a far-away, unnatural sound, that made the babe in its slum- bers start, as if aifrighted. Then, when the ser- vant had obeyed, she sunk down again in ,her chair, a vivid, lowing spot of crimson on either cheek, and a right intensity of light in her eyes. several minutes she sat there, patting her feet against the plushy pink carpet, the carmine on her cheeks fading to ashen pallor. ‘ “And has it come to this, to this? Has he crossed my path again, just when I deemed my past life so nearly forgotten amid the excite- ment of the present? I am doomed, doomed to measure lances with this man—and why should I hesitate? I, who never shrunk from—” A shiver ran over her at some memory. “ I’ll do it—the fates are leadin me on, sure- ly if slowly! Grace! my writing esk!” ~ Calm, haughty, summoned the wai g attendant, and when her writing-desk was brought, hastily penned a 111083889- “If Mr. De Laurian desires the acquaintance of Miss Ethel Wyndham he can learn her address of the man or. Miss yndham receives few cells. but will mit Mr. De Laurlan upon one condition: that he consents to see her en maxque.‘ ‘ . “ Take this to Manager Robbe, Grace, in the ‘ morning, early; now, assist me to undress.” She retired to her bed, but sleep would not visit her eyes; she tossed restlessly to and fro, on the down pillow and then, in sheer de- spair of courh'n r the owsy god, arose, throw around her a w ite cashmere wra , and, in her bare, dim led feet, common along, restr 1cm rome 6. through the early hours of that cold, gray autumn morning, she paced the floor; at tunes wrapped in deepest depression of spirits ‘and then the sad, worried look in her eyes chased suddenly away by one of bitter wrath and in- tensest agitation. “ It is impossible, utterly im 'ble ! I thought, in this new, stran ife, I ' effectu- ally overcome all the evil- eartedness of those other days, but it arises like a mighty avalanche when I think u n him! I hate him with an unearthly ha i I fled from the temptation, and the tem tation has followed me! 6 very finger of Fa a has led him to me!” She clasped her hands tightly together; the rings cutting into the throbbing flesh. “I will do it! his very name has fired the worst passions of my heart! I dare declare I will do it, with that innocent, 'eless babe else in r‘ under my very eyes! es the hands the kidnap )ed Blanche s baby—that have never touched it ut in tenderest care, shall seise‘on Gervaise De Laurian, who has followed me on to his doom!” I And then, when the brilliant eyes gleamed with all the intensity t43f filer soul, and tibia: strange, rare so 171' e, “fired on coral-red li , you knew it was bars Chet- , wvnd to w om Gervaise De Laurlan was being , \ rfectly at ease as ever, she ‘ ‘. - .Jv- I turned abruptly back toward— : led, as she said, by the inscrutable hand of mys- terious Beating! When the ushing morning broke, she had made her breakfast toilet; later, drove out in her bro ham with Grace and little “ Zella.” as she calle baby Constanzia; and when the air- ing was over and she returned to her rooms, a note awaited that when she read, paled her checks for a secon . Then the mud light returned to her eyes. “Grace, ring my crepe mask, and leave Zella in her cradle. When Mr. De Laurian rings, Show him in, and retire.” She had scarcely given the directions when . the summons came from the door. She hastily adjusted the mask, threw a glow- ing scarlet opera cloak on her gray silk carriage costume, and bowed a cold, graceful greeting to Gervaise e Laurian. “ I can not tell you how grateful I am to you, Mrs. Wyndham, for your condescension in al- lowing me to pay my respects to you in person.” She bowed gracefully in return for the im- plied compliment. “ I am a trifle sur rised that 'ou addressed me as ‘Mrs.’ How di you learn was married?" “ Rumor said so. I beg pardon most humbly if I was mistaken. 1 can but envy the memory of the husband you were such a treasure to.” A little low laugh rippled behind the mask. “ All husbands are not appreciative.” “ I cannot imagine yours being otherwise. He would be a very brute. ” “So I thou ht; will you close the window, please? I real y think I am chilly.” De Laurian sprung to obey the languidly-ut- tered request, and when he returned, drew his chair closer to her side. She did not repulse the movement, and De Laurian emboldened, took I :12, of her hands in his. e felt it tremble slightlyzdiad be known why! but he did not, and attributing i to reasons flattering to his conceit, he felt a thrill of joy in his veins, as he leaned nearer her. .'I regret you desire to hide our face from mekdear lady. Why not let me 00k and adore, as I did last night?” “ A nearer acquaintance might disenchant you, you know." “Im sible! the memory of your beautiful face Will haunt me forever. Can I not pe you to unmask?” His low, eager tones were almost whispered against her ear. - -,- ~ , “Did you not know that eVerybo‘dy wears masques, Mr. De Laurian! Not of crepe, like this, to sure or perhaps not at all visible to human e es. liow am I to know you are what you appear?” Althou h her words were earnest, her man- ner was ht and jssting ; but he could not see the terrible, momentarily kindling fires in her eyes. “ For instance," she went on, “ when I am on the Rte 9, I am as a masked woman. Beneath my sm es and gayety I hide more sorrow and shame than pg? 8 dream of. Mine has been a bitter cup to nk; I have been through many doe waters and, Mr. De Laurian, you may not be] eve me. but I am thirsin for revenge! But what high tragedy am I i lging in! Come, see my baby.?’ » She arose from her chair and went across the floor to the cradle, where the child lay, awake ' and smiling. De Laurian gave a casual look reparatory to the-flattery he SW ex ecte from him. Then he star ; star at the child,‘and There she stood in all her awful beauty— Barbara Chetwyn l Transfixed w1th.the suddenness of the shock, he. could only stare wildly, and- essay to gasp her name. But the thunder of her voice rolled in his ears. ” We meet again, face to face, for the last time, Gervaise De Laurianl Look at me, for I am she I look at the child, for n is Blanche Da- venul’sl” “" - ~ For a moment only he recoiled in horror; then, his lips curling with contempt would have left the room without another wor . But Barbara sprung before him with a high, shrill lau b. “No, rvaise De Laurian, I have sworn by all the Wers of Hades that you do not esca .1119 '8‘ Ill Once, twice on baffled me. and t a memo rankles still. hen, when I had en- ,tsred t 6 house where that sleeping baby 18% while all was confusion and glad excitement below, and stole it‘to punish its mother, I vain- ly thought to exgiate my sins by goodness and, kindness to it. ‘ at when you unsought, came to my very door, all the devils in in soul clam- ored hungrily for vengeance. I w ll have my WAS SHE H15 WEEK-.- vengeance, Gervnise De Laurian, and you shall know what it is to be hunted down by the wo- man you havo disgraced, deserted!” Her majestic form seemed to tower‘libovo him. He saw her eyes, flashing like a madwo- man’s. He heard the quick, low breathing; and then some bright object flashed from her bosom; a noise, a deathly horror— And Gervaise Do Laurian was launched on the Sea of Eternity! He lay as he fell, graceful even in the rigidity of death, while Barbara looked grimly down at her work, reckless of the crowd surging up the stairs who had heard the shot; reckless of the terrified wailing of the baby in the cradle. The door burst n; the excited crowd rushed in, and then Barbara started in aifright. She cast one look at the foremost figure, and with a cry of infinite agony, spoke his name. “No! no! not Rex Chetwynd!” Then, with the speed of a lightning flash, she snatched the tiny revolver, placed it against her temple, drew the trigger, and fell a corpse across Gcrvaise Do Luurian’s body! CHAPTER XXXVIII. THE MYSTERY no MORE. STRANGE as they seemed, Barbara (.‘hetwynd’s last words were true; it was indeed her husband, Rex Chetwynd, who had gone on his loving, hopeful tas of finding, somewhere in the wide. wide world, the wife of his bosom whom he so worshiped, and, though against whom such awful (:nlumnics had been hurled, he could not believe so vile, so fiendish a creature. From Chetwynd Chase he had wandered aim- lessly westward; while in Chicago, he had picked up a London aper, and casually read the advertisement 0 the “ charming Miss W ndham.” ith peculiar force, the similarity of a part of the name had occurred to him. is one ob- 'ect in life was to learn from Barbara’s own Ii s her innocence or guilt, by which he would a ide; this might be she; at any rate she was as likely to be in England as America, and he might as well follow this imaginary thread in the dreadful tan Is as any. So he sailed or Liv l, and arrived in London several hours previous to the traged . 'He had at once gone to the manager of t 0 Prince of Wales theater and learned the ad- dress of Mrs. Ethel Wyndham, and was wonder— ingas he mingled wit the crowd that was con- stantly surging past her windows, how he would obtain an interview, in consequence of her not appearing for a fortnight on the boards. t the very moment he passed her door, with slow steps and scanning eyes, had come the pistol-shot, and the heavy fall, and the infant’s shrill scream that alarmed the passers-by. Foremost with the crowd, and side by side with a liceman, he entered the room, in time to, see, ut powerless to prevent, the terrible closing of the tragedy. It needed but a glance to recognise Gervaise De Laurian, and there came to him the awful suspicion that Barbara had added to her long' catalogue of sins the heinous one of disloyalty to in. His heart was bursting with anguish as he knelt beside the ill-starred pair; little did he dream how fearfully their vow had been kept, although made in mockery) byh the one and eat earnest by the other that “ alone should part them!" The crowd stond back a moment, awed by his stony sun-ow, as he softly smoothed her bright hair, and closed her heavily-lashed eye- lids. Then, when the officer had kindl sug- him to retire, be mechanically wa ked to the cradle, where little Constanzia la , in terri- fied Silence, her brown eyes raised in piteous, gistgul entreaty, her tiny lips quivering With rea . A fresh to of anguish thrilled his verY heart- strings. argm’s child—and perhaps De— No, he would not harbor the thought. She was dead now, as well past any more sinning as repenting. ‘ As he stood there, looking at the baby and hardly seeing it, came the passing thought of how different the home at Chetwynd Chase would be if this were Blanche’s—and the thought suddenly suffocated him. Blanche’s child] '11th it not be Blanche’s of a verity? De Laurian was supposed to have abducted it— and there lay De Laurian, dead. In his feverish excitement, he called for the nurse of the child, and communicated his sus- cwns to the officer. Grace said th'e‘child was rs. Wyndham‘s as far as she knew, and that she never had heard it called by any other name than Zella. - ' av- _._..,,-, . 27 Theofioerin 'ediftherewasan package m t the angel of clothes anywhere took special care‘efi . ce said was: a bundle locked up in a drawer tha was allowed to open. She had seen Mrs. Wyndham often bare it, but beyond the glimpse of something blue she did not know what it contained. ' The drawer was broken open, under the emcer‘s directions, and the package given to Mr. Chetwynd. “Before I open it, as a proof that I am sure that child is my cousin’s, 1 will describe its con’ tents as advertised. There will be a blue sash, fringed at the ends: an embroidered suit of underclothing' a lace ruffled robe; a pair of arnilets, and a blanket, all marked 0. C. D., the initials for Constanzia Chetw nd Davenal." The package was opened, and r. Chetwynd’:; list found complete. while, as though the “ finger of Fate ” had been as determined about this afl'air 33 Barbara had averred it was in another, there was a letter unsigned. undated, but unmistakably written in Barbara’s hand. “ Constanzia’s clothes, Au ust 3151:.”- It was the very day 0 the event that had well nigh killed Blanche, the day the “ Pacific ” arrived; the day Blanche had received her decree of divorm from Gervaise De Laurian. Further proofs were not deemed necessary, and in a very few days the little one was given to Rex Chetwynd to take to his mother. He secured the services of the colored woman, Grace, and took immediate passage home, having seen the last rites performed over the remains of the beautiful woman, who, with her headlong passioas, her fiery temper, had inher- ited, to a terrible fatality, first, “dishonor,” then desertion, and finally death, the Curse of Chetwynd Chase. The first gathering shades of Christmas Eve were falling over Chetwynd Chase: the lights were gleaming from window and ball as Rex Chetw nd drove up the leafless avenue to the home e was going to bless, but from which the light and brightness was forever fled for him. Ra idl the carriage containing its precious freight rove up, and rained in at the front entrance. Bidding Grace remain where she was until he beckoned, Rex sprung out and went up the ste . . The doors were not fastened at that early hour and without any trouble he made his way to t e dinin -room, where be supposed the family ware dinner. . He was not mistaken; they were at dinner, and he was in their midst before any one saw him. The greetings were quiet but full of love and tenderness; and when each in turn had been embraced, he turned to Blanche. “I have bron ht you a Christmas present; you will accept iI?” A wan little smile hovered for a moment on her lips. “Most assuredly, Rex; yet I would ask no better present than to know you were haXpy once more.” - lshade crossed his face as he answered very gent y: “I have but one request to make, for my Christmas gift. I will tell you once for all, that Barbara is dead, and Gervaise De Laurian also sleeps his last slee . I saw them both. When, or where, nevers all cross my lips, God will— ing. All I ask is, never mention it to me again.” A solemn awe-struck silence fell on, them: and God only kn0ws the feeling of their hearts as they sat there. “ But let us cast aside gloom thoughts. The past can not he recalls ; an! I am going to give Blanche her Christmas present.” He went to the window and beckoned to Grace, whom he met at the door, and divested of her burden. ‘ With ra id, irregular static he crossed the room to lanche, who. wi sudden, excited manner, had risen from her chair. “ Oh, Rex l—Rex 3—” Her eager question, prom ted by some won- derful instinct, died on her ips as Rex crossed the room to her, and laid the smiling, beautiful baby in her arms—her own, her very own! We leave them to their ra W on that nevar-to-be—forgotten ve, when by the some Hand thatalsd Blanche through such. raging waters, she was brought to a great glorious light that nevor was dimmed ' by sch; shs’dow even of “ The Gum of («mind use. m END. ‘A Bright Particular Stem of Popular Weeklies l” “l First-Glass Pemin Paper!" ’— " l e s ~ W N . ( v; V "13% \. . . \ ':\' ‘ ' .. ——‘- . .. 1; , 7 u . \ \\ ~. \A ‘~; -' ‘~ - £23- ~ \ \ ‘... . ‘ , 3% ‘ ’ ‘ ‘ F: “ r t w..- \~.\. u \ w» u R , 3,; ~; _ I. , _ m _ ‘ .t‘i ~ \ ~» - ~ ~ v . , ., . w \ W \ . k ‘ r I, _ W ,\ / . ’A- r ‘ A .,_ __ - I _/ --\Unrivaled Among Popular Papergf .In the good repute of its large corps of Contributors; In the variety. scope end Interest of its contents: In the beauty of illustration, typography. and order of its “make-up." M —~- ~- 3 A FIRST-CLASS POPULAR WEEKLY, aiming at what is BEST, Fansnnsr AND MOST ATTRACTIVE in Fiction, Rommoe and 1 Novel—in Sketch, Story, and Narrative—in City Life Revelations—in History, Biography and Events—in Wit and Humor—in Poetry and l Emay—inl Special Departments of the Useful and Practical—in Answers to Correspondents—Topics of the Times-4n Talks with Our Girls—4 in Fashion Notes and Social Chit-chat, etc., etc., etc. ' ~\Entertaining, Instructive and AmusinV it meets the tastes, wants and demands of old and young alike, and is the Congenial Companion, the Welcome Guest st Fireside; in Houses, Shops and Ofiioes IN ALI. PARTS 0F '1'!!! UNION! No paper now published in this country having a wider circulation, and none being received with so much favor by that class of people who are solicitons that what they road shall be both pure end good. The following brilliant and powerful stories will be among -—\The Serials for 1882 :/.A THE LADY OP THE LONE ISLE; or, More Sinned ONLY A PARKER? DAUGHTER: or, marrying a Axum Then Shining. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. Pox-tune. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. MAN 08 WOMAN; or. A Midnight Mystery. By Albert A POOR GIRL; or, High and Low We in New York. W. Aiken. ‘ By Albert W. Aiken. nan Awrm. DANGER: or. The Secret of Silver cnounnn m MYSTERY; or. A Heart Bowed Down. Willows. By Mrs. Mary Reed Crowell. By Mrs. Mary Reed Cu'owell. . 'LOVE’S TALONS? or. The Claw ’Neeth the Velvet. By THE LOST LOVE LETTER; or, The POMQI"! Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. Daughter. By Colonel Prentiss lngraham. And Serials, Sketches, Home and City Life Romances, Essays, Poems, etc., etc., by the follovring well-known popular writers: LUCILLE HOLLIS, CAPT. MAYNE REID, FRANK E. HAMILTON, MRS. JENNIE DAVIS BURTON, IANNIE MAY WITT, MRS. MARY H. FIELD, ANNABEL DWIGHT, CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER, 'l'. C. HARBAUGH, EBEN E. REXF‘ORD, FRED. T. FOSTER. PAUL PABTNOR, MATTIE DYER BRI’I’I‘S, CORINNE CUSHMAN, FRANK COREY, HARRIET M. SPALDING, EDWARD WILLETT, CARL COURTENAY, CHARLES MORRIS, ABBIE C. MCKEEVER, HARRIET E. WARNER, FRANK M. IMBRIE, MRS. MARK PEABODY, WM. R. EYSTER, ROGER STARBUCK, JNO. H. WHITSON, JNO. W. SNYDER, JOSIE C. MALOTI', RETT WINWOOD, BELLA D. HIXON, EMILIE CLARE, GARRY GAINES, as well u the special contributions of the inimitable wits and humorists WASHINGTON WHITEHORN, JOE JOT, Jr., and BEAT TIME, out the sparkling essayist and pen-preachers, THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER and EVE LAWLESS~oll of whom catenwoluuody for the m." 10mm, while in its department of ANSWERS T0 CORRESPONDENTS, those who are conversant with such uni-stun pronounce it the but and most interesting column of the day. Taken all in all the SATURDAY JOURNAL is the ’ «\Jeurual Par Excellence for the Lovers of a. Whelesume Popular filmetmefi and those we for what is best and most enjoyable in thnt line should become its readers. 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Schools, Exhlbltlons 5 Amateur Theatrlcals. m i g m BOLT, 1 2 two; THE DIME SPEAKEBé. WILSON. } » 80m w gnuan gnu-n gcxgnrnsox 87mm 30mm I nu A‘I'IONLL m nu 00L rum i ‘ mm ggmoglo 8mm tDnu LumenousKSmm mm x nu IIC mnn. KARL Plus-rm. L’s 0m 8m < mm fiwcmonms'r. Emma’s Srénnxnn rm ; mo nu woman mum -— um 1mm Wm 00113“ f u x‘ 7—Dnu STANDARD Baum 18—Dnu HXSLQ Conmm Sm ‘ my, 8—Dnu Swan Sum 19—Dnu Sumo-Como Spun; mum 9—Dnu vanuu: 8mm 20—Duu SELECT Spun). av. J08. 000K 10—Dnu Bruno-EAGLE 8mm 21—Dnm FUNNY Emma. ANNA momma. u—Dnu Dmnn um Gum’s Gm 22—Dnu JOLLY SPEAKER. cum h s k, 2’,-—Dmn Dumw'r SPEAKER. ~ . m “0’03- ( DURYI“ E80 P09 fr. 100 pages 121110., oontmning from 50 to .5 plea-s. THE cm € wuurm, A" med WM MT:le DIE/[E BIAgaGUh-OES! m rmm \, gm :1 a .D to m } mum for the inmate; an?! ,my "pa givig? mega l3nd“efl'ectivtangjnlom Gm' . flfl com 1 ' < m mm. “a; umwslacctm m (3 blues, exqmnte dreu tn exhibition dnmu mm m Dnu Dumas Nmu 08!. Dnu Dumom Nmunm F rm. scum é Goon‘ Dunc Dumum Nmnn Two. Dnu Dnnooune NUMBER Eggnnx. , 001811038. Dnu DumGUEs Nmm Tm Dnu Dumm‘Nmuun 8mm. CURTIS. < Dnu Duuxmm Nam Fan Dnu Dnnoauns Nuxnn Baum-nu, m 2 CARLYLE. Dnu BIuIDGUBs iguana. gran mg». N BISHOP WHIPPLE, { XACAUMY mg: 31% 8am. Dnu Moog Hum Egan. m- DB- Wool 4 mm Dnu Duncan: Numn Exam. Dnu Dumam Rm Twm. - 1 I ‘- Dun Dumam Noam“ Nam Dun! Dmoouu Nnnn Nun-all. I"? "m m' Bull gunman: 11:53:: Dnu Diamo- Rm“ «431:: mm nu mm mm '1‘qu“ Dnu Dnnoom Nvum Waco: 1 HILTON. M volume, 100 pages 12mo., containing from 15 to 95 pieces. SPUBBDOX. 2 mmon, BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William St., N. Y. ‘W I pm 832"!» g a. r. aurora), WHITEHORN. DR. (my. mom Imam-r. CALHOUN, B. p. TAYLOR, m'r CONTRIBUTOR. nooox. mum, menu mums, ’ STODDARD, DANBURY NEWS. REV. DR. HALL. HOWELL. DANA. WY cut. 4 Amman. DETROIT Fm P338. SCUDDER. BAYARD 'urbon, JOHN NEAL, m mums, mum DOA“. ton, moon. my, ‘3 Jam. 1.. m mu. m n l mu. an, comm WW WM“ _ A I . 43f" u «.mw wW v . ,\ /\.,/\M\‘_Jy \V_/\._. \..v— \— Firesid “Rana. I\-\I\r\t\)‘r\t\p»rA ..\..,\...\n I Library.- anh issue a complete novel and sold at the lmlfOl‘In price of TEN CENTS. No double price numbers. I IIWAB 8m: Hui Wm? Mrs Mary Reed (Tom-ll. 2 EWING FROM LOVE. By Harriot Irving. 3 DID HE LOVE HER? By Bartlev '1‘. ('Iunplwll. 4 A STRANGE WOMAN. By Rent 'iuwood. 6 Two HIRLs‘ LIVES. By Mr... M. 1:. (Tow-ll. 9 TIIR WAR OF HEARTS. By (Torinno- Cushman. 11 THE FAwI WIDOw. Mrs. J. l). Burton. 12-11 LOST NOR LOVE. B Mix.» M. ii). Brnddon. 14-15 Town” 01" Tim SEA.- l:y Victor lingo. 16 THE QirADROON. By (fithnrine A. Wnrfiold. 17-15 UNOLII HILAS. By J.‘ S. Lo anu. 19-20 DEAD-Sim FRUIT. By Miss M. E. “millinfl. 21-22 LITTLR KATE KIRBY. By 1". W. Robinson. 23 SOWING Tint WIND. Mm. Mary R. (frowoll. 2+2!) Bums or PR“. By liss M. M. Braddm, 26 THAT BOY OF NOIwi)’1"l"3. (th lf‘l-l Lover. 27-28 CIIARLO'IVTR‘N lNllElit’fAM‘ld . y Bruddon. 29 A GIRL‘H HEART. 12y Brit \ iviwood. 30-31 RED AS A Rosy: 1S SH; 117 Rhoda Broughmn. 32 Tm: LILY ()F' ST. ERNR. By Mrs. Crow. 33 STRANGRLY WED. B H1‘S.J. l). liurion. 34 THE (irrsv BRIDE. :y1l. 1‘7. 0. Mull-n. 35 ANNIR TEMPLE. Hy Rev. J. 1i. Ingrnlmm. 36 WITHOUT MERCY. By BanlI-y T. (hunplwll. 37 BLACK EYES AND BLI'ILIBY Uln‘imn: (Tuslnnan. 38 BRAVE BARBARA. By Obi-hum (Ylnellnmn. 39 A DANGEROUS WOMAN... By Mul‘gm'ub Blount. 40 OUIDA‘S LOVE. B lh-m-mlln E. Devonich . 41 LOST: A VVII'R. 3yUo1’lxnw Unslnnun. 42 WDININU WAYS. By M‘nmrr-L Bimini 43 A Woman‘s HEART. By Mrs. M. V. Vi('i’,4)l’. 44 'lnR DEAD LETTER. Sf‘ifiifiy Regression ’ LORD LIHLI-z‘s DAvGIiTR By (3. hi. Law-nu. ' A WOMAN‘N HAND. By " thoroi~ " Iii-ml Loitel‘." VIALS or WRATH. By lll:u-yR. ()1'0W8ll.. A WILD GIRL. By Corbin“ (Jushinnn. Tm; MADDIST MARRIAGI’JGVRR WM. Ry Burton. 50 LOVE IN A MAZR. ll": E. l“. BUM. 51 UATHOLINA. By DIEJ. . Rollin—«m. A, ROMANOR OF A POOR OONO HIR‘... E. 1‘". Eliot. THE LOCKED HEART. l (loiinnv (.‘ushmnn. 5i TIIR'PRIDR or Tm: [)0 HS. li_‘.' M. BlounL. 55 A STRANGE Gnu- l.» Levi W. Aiken. 56 Tm; PRETTY PURITAN. y A l‘m-von‘s Daughter. 57 DID Sm; SIN? lily Dirw:;‘:lnry Aim-(l (frmwll. 58 DOUBLY DIVOlll'lill. Hy st‘Il'iV Davis lmrton. so A \Yn-mmemm. Ry. Lillie n. U Blakv. '30 BLIND BARBAKA‘S Summ‘. Mary alpine. ' LN AMERIOAN QUERY. By (ii-nun MUM ilum‘. i i | 1 i I l I l -QAI 3 w; I .gg i 64 Tm: (.‘Iuwmc (kmeN. are? 23333;; 6:? MAHGOIIN, Tm: STRANGE. By Wm. M. Turner. 6‘1 Wm: OR WIDOW. By Rm Winwood. By i’ln'li 1S. Warne. 65 PURSUED To THE ALTAR. By C. fushman. 66 THE THRRIDLI: TRUTH. By Jennie 1). Burton. 67 ELEGANT lCORIIR'I'. By Philip S. Win-De. 68 LADY HELEN'S Vow. B ' Mrs. E. F. Eliot. Bowm. Tm: KNIGHT or (/HIVALHI. 1’. S. Warne. DRIP-'l‘lNG 'l‘U llrIN. By Mnry Reed Grow-ll. Tm: PAILHI).\"S DAUGHTER. lly A Pin-son’s liangliior. 'l‘m: AIYHTIMIOUN HI'ARDIAN. By (7. (.‘llSlllIlull. \".\.l :41”: A VVIFH. Hy Rm! \Hnuootl. .\l)‘{l.\,'i'lll-' \DOP’I'RD, By .II-nniq- 1’. Burton. PIu-t'rrY AND l’ROI'D. By UOi-inm- C‘lemian. Tm: BITTRR FRI'D. By .le-nniv I). Burton. A \VOMAN'S WORK. By Mrs. E. E. Ellel. ’I‘m; ILon RIDDLE. By t‘orinnu (‘IuilmiaIL CORAL AM) RUBY. By .lwiniv lhn‘i: Burton. DIVORCE!) BUT NOT i)IV11)ElI. By A Parson's Daughter. ALMOST MARRIED. By A l’mwn" . lininlnur. Two FAIR WOMEN. By Wm. M. Turner. Tm: INHERI’l‘ANU‘E OI HATE. B ' J. l). Burton. PEARL or l‘RARLH. By A. 1‘. )iol‘l‘is, .Ir. l"oR HONOR‘N SARI: By Mary liwll Howell. LANCE URQI'IIART‘N LOVES. By Annie Thomas. " ’SAI‘RIA' MARRIED. By author Of “ Caste." i"l.()lU£T’l‘lC. By (‘ol. l‘I‘I-Iiii.~< lnfmhmn. ’l‘IIi:I-;I:'l‘xursx DEAD. If-y )lii‘J 11. C. lh'mlilon. FOR A WoMAN's SAKE. By Watts Phillips. 111 ‘ lli: (‘0METH NOT.‘ Hillii SAID. By 'l'homns. 112 THE NEW .‘leGDALrJN. l5} Wilkiv (lullillS. 9.} AN UPIJN VERUII‘I. By )lim' )1. if. li-mhlon. 1'1 Swoim AND vaN. ‘2; Hon. .\.1.nwr~-m~c-. 115 A BROGARON IIORNRDAOR. By .l..Imcs Pawn). llnn F‘M'Y. WAS ilivR FOR'H'NIC. "fly Rohinfion. 9; JANE EYBE. By ('llnl‘lotin- iil‘wlllt‘. \VIHN'RLD IN l’on'r. lly llilnwinil Yates. Elli Tm: (‘OLLEIIN BAWN. By Ho-l‘flld (h'iflln. llU AN [\hinl'rlill'h (lII:I.. l5) .\ i‘4‘i0'lll'IlH‘1iA‘TU‘K'HS. iOl FULL l'LAY. By liz-zulo uml Blown-Run. —:c -1- A,_~ £1..fo 1? 1 555%?é2 ' 10‘? (‘ARITA llv Mrs. ( iliplmnt. lot; A WOMAN ilAritu. By Finn'in Rondo. ll)! AFTER DARK. By Wilkii- ‘ ‘ollins'. 106 ll.\nD ’l‘nws. B ' (liinrlI-x Uli‘licllo'. 106 GRIP. By B. L. "Rrjeon. 107 FRNTON’N QI'l‘IST. 12y Mina llrmldon. 108 'l‘IIRIcr: iv'HA l'lll-JR'é. By \V. Black. 1 109 JOHN HALIFAX, GRNTLRMAN. Munch. I 110 MURPHY"S MASTER. By J. Payn. I 111 HEAPS or MONEY. W. E. Norris. i 112 IN MORTAL PERIL. Marv R. Crowell. 3 11:1 TIIR DEAD SECRET. yWiIkie Collins. I‘ PLAYING TO WIN. Bv G. M. Fenn. ‘ a) 116 117 11R I 115) l l l B ' V". M. 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By (ivm‘uf‘ Elliot. 109 BnizAD-AND—(‘nnissiz AND Klaus. By B. L. ‘ P‘arjeon. 110 Tm: WANDRRINO HEIR. B Charles Rondo. 111 THE linonth BET. B 1111110 F. Carlen. 112 A HRRO. ByMlss Muloc '. ' 11:3 PAm. AND IROINIA. From the Frmu'h Of Bernurdin de St. l’ierro. 114 "I‘WAB IN TRAFALGAR‘S BAY. By Walmr Besant and James Rico. 4. 115 THE MAID or KILLRRNA. William Black. 116 HRTTY. By Honry Kingaloy. 117 Tun WAYRIDE CROSS. .opt. E. A. Milman. 1m Tm: VICAR OIr WmImcLD. Oliveriloldsmith. 119 MAl'l! MORAN. By Anni- ’l‘hmmzh. 120 TnAanN OI: WARSAW. By Miss Jane Porn-r 121 THE KING or NO-LAMI. By B. I; Furjeon. 1‘12 LHVKL, THE WIDOWRN. By W. M. Thackeray. 1‘33 AN ISLAND PEARL. By B. L. Farjeon. 121 Comm PHILLXS. 125 LRILA: or. Tm: SIRGR (1F GRENADA. By Ed- wurd Bulwor (Lord Lytton.) 126 WIII-zN Tun SIIII- ('OMES IIOMR. By Walter Bosnnt null JanR-s Rice. 127 ONI: on THE FAMILY. By James Payn. 128 TH: BIR'InIuGRT. Bv . rs. (lore. 129 lilo'rnianI-Iss. Bv (‘O‘l Promise lngrnhum. 180 Homzuss. ByAlbert W. Aikvn. . 131 Surat AGAINST SIHTIJIL By Mrs". Mary Rood “now”. 132 SOLD FUR GOLD. ‘ 13:1 LORD ROTH‘H SIN. By Mrs. M V, Victor. 3)’ Mmfloorgimm I)’ ions. l i I .1 mun flLw/I- m‘ng/ uwl'. ’l'III-t 'tVAVl-ZRLEY LIIsILuIY is fill“ sale by 8.11 Newmionlvrs‘. five owns w-r Wit". ‘1' 5911‘ b! mull on receipt Oi" Nix cunts ozn-h. BEADLi‘I AND ADAMS. Publishth 911 William Strut-t, New York --v~_,v- , ~_,\ I» -./\-/\ A» l y Amelia B. Edwards. w l ~\ - \AAHMN“ » ,.. ,\,..\,_ AA,.\,_ ‘/_\,—. i I i i .i i i :3 V e...‘-.w_._m.,-~;.___~ .‘ - -_..-.... 5.5—3? “2,; 3 :4? o o o .' LE‘x —* 00.... o... ’ A O \ A New Library Expresst Designed for “our Boys”, wun Love True Stories of Stirring Lives! Tales of Actual Perils and Adventure! Romance of Sport on Field and Flood! Daring Deeds and Great Achievements. 0n the oceans and seas—in the deep, silent forester-on the boundless plains—in the mountnin fastnesse.» rind the unmiled hills— ovor the wild game ranges and the cattle ranches—on lakea, rivers and lonely lagoons—over the world, everywhere; thus being something Wholly New and Novel, and giving a literature which in quality. kind. and exciting interest is PECULIARLY THE AMERICAN BOY’S OWN! NOW READY AND IN PRESS. No. 1. Adventures of Buffalo Bill. Prom Boyhood to i No. .17. Plaza. and Plain; or, Wild Adventures of “Buckskin 00d. Deeds of Daring, and Romantic incidents in the I Sum,” (Major Sam S. Hall.) By Col. Prentiss Ingrahun. early “f9 0f William F- 00d.“ BY COL Pwutlss Ingrabam- i No. 18. Rifle and Revolver: or, The Littleton Gun Club on the No. 2. The Ocean Hunters; or. The Chase of the Leviathan. ; Bufl‘nlo Range. 3y Capt. Frederick Whittaker. A Romance oi Perilous Adventure. By Captain Mayne Reid. No. 19. Wide_Awake George, the Boy pioneer; or, L110”, WA" “m.” lump "ummr' “I . 3. Log Cabin. Incidents and Adventures in the Backwoods. No. 3. Adventures of Wild Bill. the Pistol Prince. Re- By Edward Willem. marketale career of J. B. Hikok, knovm to the world as. l N p . , \ . . . o. 20. ..he Dashm Dragoon. or, 'lhe Story of General H Wild Bulv)’ g1 vmg the true Story Of ms adventures and new George A. Custer? from ll'est Point to the Big Horn. By By 00" Prams“ Ingram” Captain Frederick \Vhittnker. No. 4. gm} 1 ligrifi, : m" The Young oattle Herders' No. 21. Deadwood Dick as a. Boy; or, Why Wild Ned Hun-i, N 5 Ty 099p; -k “‘t'l‘zel' t T the New England Fara-indierbecame the Western Pan.“ 0. . on! to . e 115 ang . hrillin Adven— of the Road. B E. L. 'we . tures in the Life of J. B. Oxnohundro, “Texas Jagck.” By No 22 The Bo éxues of Siberia. or The watcbDog of Colonel Prentiss Ingmhem. - has“; vaT C Harbaugl. 9 , N“ 6‘ 3;? Du3§n3%fiarily‘w“y= 0r: Yankee Boys in Ceylon- ‘ No. 23. Paul De Laey. the French new Charmer: or, No 7 Roving Joe. The Hismry f Y ‘B d R m n l Negthortk Boxyfs in tlieBJugglgs. Stay 1:! Adventure, Peri ' ' . ' 0 3 Guns ‘ 01’ er u an. an ‘por in ricn. y 1. unmng ar Bnef scenes from the Life 0: Joseph E' Badge“ Jr' No. 24. The Sword Prince: The Romantic Life of Colonel By A‘ H' POSt' Monstery, (American Chempion-at-arms.) By Cnptdn Fred. No. 8. The PlyIWI-y‘Afloat: or, Yankee Boys ’Round the World. l Whittaker. By 0- Dunning Clark No. 25. Round the Camp Fire: or. Snow-Bound at “Freeze No. 9. Bruin Adams. on Grizzly Adana, Boy para. out Cauip_” A Tale of Roving Joe and his Hunter Pards. By Scenes of Wild Adventure in the Life of the Boy Ranger of : Joseph E. Badger. Jr. the Rocky Mountains. BY COL Prentigs Ingmbam- No. 28. Snow-Shoe Tom; or. New York Boys in the Wilderness. No. 10. The Snow Trail; or, The Boy Hunters of Fur-Land. i A Narrative of Sport and Peril in Maine. By T. C. Harbacgh. l A Nurrntive of Sport and Life around Lake Winnipeg. :No. 27. Yellow Hair. the Boy Chief of the Paws. By T. C. iiafbullgh- The Adventurous Career of Eddie Burgess of Nebraska. By No, 11. old Grizzly Ada-ms. the Bear Tamer; or, The. Colonel Prentiss Ingrnhani. Monarch of the Mounts")- BY Dr- Frank Ifowell. _ i No. 28. The Chase of the Great White Stag and a.” No. 12, woods and Waters; or. TheExplmts of the Littleton and Canoe. By C. Dunning Clark. Gun (31ml By Capt. lireileriek Whittaker. i No. 29, The Fortune-Hunter; or, Roving Joe as Miner, Cow- No. 13. A Rolling Stone: Im-ulents in the-Career on Sea. and I BOY» Trapper and Hunter. B! A- H- Post- Re“! June ’8- Land as Boy and Man, Of Colonel Pr‘ llilSS Ingraham. By : No, 30, Walt Ferguson's cruisa A Ta]. of the Antarctic 80L l4Professor. \Villiuin It, l'lystei'. I By C. Dunning Clark. Rendv July 5th. . . r I ‘ No. ‘ Add-fl on the Prairie. and A~ wteur Bums 0" -‘ A New Issue Every week. the Bufi'alo Range. iv 011 (M no, 15.-K§t car-on. King of the me’s BOY’s LIBRARY is for sale by all Newsdeclefl, flvo cent per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of six cents each Paths and Prairie Trails. By Allnw , Aiken. “a 16. Red Riv Rovers: of, big dd in ' 93 mum. Street, New York. or North'e“: By C. Dunning Clark, . i den; or, Mountain! 1 The Masked B ide or Will She Marv Him? By Mrs. Mary Reéd ci-owen. y 2 Was it Love ‘9 or, Collegians and Sweet- hearts. By Wm. Mason Turner, M D. 3 The Girl \Vii‘e ; or, The True and the False. By Bartley T. Campbell. l A Bra ve Heart; or, Starri Stra . By Arabella Southworth. mgly age 5 Bessie Ray The Quicksan Turner. M. D. 8 The Secret Marriage; or, A Duchess in Spite of Herself. By Sara Claxton. 7 A Daughter 01‘ Eve; or, Blinded by Love. By Mrs. Mary Beed Orowell. the “'ork Girl‘ or, 1’ Life. By William ason 8 Heart to Heart; or. Fair Phyllis‘ Love. By Arabella Soutthrth. Alone In the World; or Ward. the author of and Passion," etc. A Pair of Gray Eyes or, The Emerald Necklace. ByBoaeKenn . 9 The Young Man‘s 1‘ Clifton," “ Pride l0 1 i enrietta Thack Ills Lawml Wife; or, Myra, the Child of Adoption. By Mrs. An S. Stephens. Madra , the Little uakeress or, The Naval et‘s Wooing. y Corinne ushman. Why I Married Him; or, The Woman in Gray. By Sara Claxton. A Fair Face or. Out in the W0rld. By Barth-y T. Camp ll. Trust Her Not; or,A True Knight. By Margaret Monster. Entangled ; or, A Dangerous Game. By E eray. 1 2 i 3 i 4 l 5 1 (l l 7 A Loyal Lover or, The Last of the Grimsr peths. By A-rabe a Southworth. Ills Idol or, The ill-Starred Marriage. Mrs. Mary Crowe . The Broken Betrothai; or, Love versus Hate. By Mary Grace Halpine. Orphan Nell, the Orange Girl; or. The Lost Heir. By Agile Penne‘. Now and Forever; or, Why Did She Mar- ry Him? By Henrietta Thackeray. The Bride of an Actor; or. DriVen from Home. the author of “ Alonein the World," “ Clifton, ‘ etc. Lea Year or. W She Pro ed. B' Sara magma. ; hy p08 1 I8 I!) 20 22 23 2-! Her Face Was Her Fortune. By Elea- nor Blaine. 25 By Arabella Southworth. Without a Heart; or, Walking on the Brink. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham. Was She a Coquette 1 or. A Strange Courtship. By Henrietta Thackeray. 8 hi! Chase; or. The Gambler’s Wife. . Ann 8. Stephens. For Her Dear Sake; or. Saved From Him. self. By rs Ciaxton. The Don net Girl or, A Millibn Money. By Agile he. ' ; a A Mad Marriage; or. The iron Will. By Mary A. venison. Mariana, the Prima Donna' or, Reses and es. By Arabella Southwort’h. The Three Sisters; or. The Mystery of Lord Chaliont. By Alice Fleming. A Marriage of Convenience; or. Was Be a Count By Sara Clarion. 35 sinned Against; or. The Winthrop Pride. By Clara Augusta. 36 Sir Archer’s Bride; or, The Queen of His Heart. By Arabella Southworth. 37 The Country Cousin; or. All is not'Gold that Glitters. By Bose Kennedy. 38 His Own A sin; or. Trust Her Not. Arabella Sout worth. 89 Fiirtation; or, A Young Girl's Good Name. By Jacob Abarbanell, (Ralph Royal.) 40 Pie ed to Marr or, In Love‘s Bonds. Bygm Claxton. ’; 26 27 28 2‘9 30 ‘31 32 33 34 41 Blind Devotion; ‘or. Love Against the World. By Alice Fleming. 42 Beatrice, the Beautith Love. By Arabella Southwo h. 48 The Bamnet’s Secret; or. The Rival Half- Sisters. By Sara Claxton. 44 The Onl ' nan hter; or, Brother against Lover. y Alice eming. 45 Her Hidden Foe; or. Love At AllOddI. By Arabella Southworth. Only a Schoolmistress; or, Her Untold . Secret. . _ , _ , - 1 46 The Little Heiress; 01', Under a Cloud. By Mrs. Mary A. Denison. : 47 Because she Loved Him; or, How Will It End? By Alice Fleming. ‘ 48 In Spite of Herselfgotg'Jeannette‘s Repa- By? 1 64 What Jealous . 65 l 66 A Brother’s Sin By ' ration. By S. R. Sherw . 49 His Heart’s Mistress; or Love at First Sight. By Arabella Southworth. 50 The Cu ban Heiress or, The Prisoner of La Vintresse. By Mrs. ry A. Denison, 51 Two Young Girls; or, The Bride of an Earl. By Alice. Fleming. 52 The Win ed Messenger; or, Risking All for a By Mrs. Mary Reed Croweli. 53 Agnes Hope, the Actress or. The Ro- mance of a Ruby Ring. By illiam Mason Turner, M. D. 54 One Woman’s Heart; or. Saved from the Street. By George S. Ksime. ' 55 She Did Not Love Him; or. Stoopingto Conquer. By Arabella Southworth. 56 Love-Mad; or Betrothed Married Divorced and -———. By in. n er, M. D. 57 A Brave Girl; or, Sunshine at Last. By Alice Fleming. 58 The Eben Mask ; or, The Mysterious Guardian. By Mrs. Mary Reed Croweil. 59 A Widow’s Wiles; or, A Bitter Vengeance. By Rachel Bernhardt 60 Cecil’s Deceit; or The Diamond Legacy. Burton. By Mrs. Jennie Davis 61 A Wicked Heart; or, The False and the True. By Sara Claxton. 62 The Maniac Bride; or. The Dead Secret of Hollow Ash Hall. By Margaret Blount. 63 The Creole Sisters; or The Mystery of the Perrys. By Mrs. Anna E. orter. Did; or, The Heir of Worsiey Grange. y Alice Fleming. The Wife’s Secret; or, 'Twixt Cup and Lip. .By (‘01. Juan Lewis. or, Flora's Forgiveness. By Rachel Bernha t. 87 Forbidden Bans; or, Alma's Disguised Prince. By Arabella Southworth. v 68 “'eavers and “'eit; or, "Love That Hath Us In His Net.“ By Miss M. E. Braddon. 69 Camille; or, The Fate of u Coquette. By Alexan Dumas. 70 The Two Orphans. By D’Enery. 71 M]! Young “'ii‘e. By My Young Wife’s usband. 72 The Two “'idows. By Annie Thomas. 73 Rose Michel; or, The Trials of a Factory Girl. By Maud Hilton. 7-1 Cecil Castlemaine’s Gage ui ' or, The Story of a Broidered Shield. By I 74'» The Black Lady oi‘Duna. By J. 8. Le Fanu. 76 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. Rowson. * 77 Christian Byi ’ 89 A Gilded sun. By the author of “Dora ' Thorn," etc. Guide "I: Mistake. By the author of “ John H fax, Gentleman,“ etc. '78 My Young Husband; or. A Confusion in the Family. By Myself. BE the ilded 79 A ueeu Amongst Women. out or of “The Cost of Her Love.“ “ Sin," “Dora Theme." “From Gloom to Sun- light." etc. 80 Her Lord and Master. By Florence Mnrryat. 81 Lucy Temple, Sister of Charlotte. 82 A Long Time Ago. By Meta Orred. 83 Playing for High stakes. By Annie Thomas. 84 The Laurel Bush. By the author of “John Halifax, Gentleman." 85 Led A stray. By Octave Feuillet. 88 J anet’s Repentance. By George Eliot 87 The Romance ofa Poor Young Man. By Octave Feuillet. 88 A Terrible Deed; or. All for Gold. By Emma Garrison Jones. or, His Second 90 The Author’s Daughter. By Mary j Howitt. } 91 The Jiit. By Charles Reade. | 93 Love’s Victory. ‘ 94 The Quiet Heart. . 95 Lettice Arnold. 92 Eileen Alanna; or. the Dawning ot the Day. Dennis O‘Sullivan. By B' L. Farjeon. By Mrs. Oliphant. By Mrs. Marsh. l l l American Copyright Novels and the Cream of Foreign Novelists, Unabridged. FQR FIVE CENTS! The Cheapest Library Ever Published! 96 Haunted neartage or. The Broken Be- trothal By Rachel rnhsrdt. ' 97 Hugh Melton. ByKathaI-ine King. 98 Alice Learmont. ByMissMulock. 99 Marjorie Bruce’s Lovers. By Mary Patrick. 100 Throu h Fire and Water. Fred- erick 'l‘alfiot. w 10l Hannah. By Miss Mulock. 102 Peg Woflington. By Charleakeade. 103 A Desperate Deed. By Erskine Boyd. 104 Shadows on the Snow. ByB.L1"ar- Jeon. 105 The Great Ho arty Diamond. By W. M. Thackeray. “ 106 From Dreams to Waking. By E. Lynn Linton. 107 Poor Zephl By F. W. Robinson. 108 The Sad Fortunes ofthe Rev. Amos Barton. By George Eliot. 3! 109 Bread-snd-Cheese and Kisses. B. L. Farjoon. 110 The Wandering Heir. By Charles Reade. 111 The Brother’s Bet; or. Within Six Weeks. By Emilie Fiygare Carlee. 1 12 A Hero. By Miss Mulock. 113 Paul and Vi nia. From thell‘renoh of Bernardin De St. one. 114 ’Twas In Trafal ar’s Bay. By Wei» ter Besant & James ice. 115 The Maid of Killeena. By William Black. 1 1 8 Betty. By Henry Kingsley. 117 The “'ayside Cross or, The Raid of mez. By Captain E. A. man. 118 The Vicar of Wakefield. By Oliver Goldsmith. 119 Maud Mohan. By Annie Thomas. 120 Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Miss Jane Porter. ' 121 3th? King of Rio-Land. By B. L. Far- eon. 122 Love], the Widower. By W. M. Thack- ersy. 123 An island Pearl. 124 Cousin Phillis. 125 Leila; or, The Siege of Grenada. By Ed. ward Bnlwer (Lord Ly ton). 126 When the Chi Comes Home. Walter Besant and ames Rice. By B. L. Fadeon. By 1 127 One. of the, Family. By Jamesl’aya 128 The Birthrlght. By Mrs. Gore. 129 Motherless or. The Farmer's Sweetheart. By Colonel Prelitim Ing'raham. 130 Homeless or, Two Orphan Girls in New York. By A bert W. Aiken. 13] Sister a ainst 8i r; or, The Rivalry of Hearts. y Mrs. Ms Reed Croweli. 132 Sold for Gold; or, Almost lost. By Mrs. M. V. Victor. 133 Lord Roth’s Sin; or. Betrothed at the Cradle. By Mrs. Georgiana Dickens. 134 gilt] He Love Her? By Bartley T. Camp- 1 3f» Sihned Against; or, Almost in His Pawer. By Lillian Lovejoy. , 136 Was she His Wife? By Mrs. Mar} Reed Crowell. 137 The Vill e on the Cliil‘. By Miss Thackeray. y June 27th. 188 Poor Valeria; or, TheBroken'i‘x-oth. By W Blount. Ready July 4th. 1 39 Margaret Graham. By G- P. R. James, y July 11th. A new tune eury weak. Tin: Warm“ Lunar is for sale by an New.- dealers five cents per copy. or sent by mail on re. ceipt of six cents each. BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers. as Wilh'am mm, New YOrk