THE BARONET'S BRIDE

Or, A Woman's Vengeance

by

MAY AGNES FLEMING

Author of _Lady Evelyn_, _Queen of the Isle_, _Who Wins?_, _Estella's Husband_, _The Heiress of Glendower_, etc. 

New YorkThe New York Book Company

1910

 ALL'S WELL. 

 The clouds, which rise with thunder, slake Our thirsty souls with rain; The blow most dreaded falls to break From off our limbs a chain; And wrongs of man to man but make The love of God more plain. As through the shadowy lens of even The eye looks farthest into heaven On gleams of star and depths of blue The glaring sunshine never knew!

 JOHN G. WHITTIER. 

 SHADOW. 

 It falls before, it follows behind, Darkest still when the day is bright; No light without the shadow we find, And never shadow without the light. 

 From our shadow we cannot flee away; It walks when we walk, it runs when we run; But it tells which way to look for the sun; We may turn our backs on it any day. 

 Ever mingle the sight and shade That make this human world so dear; Sorrow of joy is ever made, And what were a hope without a fear?

 A morning shadow o'er youth is cast, Warning from pleasure's dazzling snare; A shadow lengthening across the past, Fixes our fondest memories there. 

 One shadow there is, so dark, so drear, So broad we see not the brightness round it; Yet 'tis but the dark side of the sphere Moving into the light unbounded. 

 ISA CRAIG-KNOX. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE BARONET'S BRIDE. 

"And there is danger of death--for mother and child?"

"Well, no, Sir Jasper--no, sir; no certain danger, you know; but inthese protracted cases it can do no harm, Sir Jasper, for the clergymanto be here. He may not be needed but your good lady is very weak, I amsorry to say, Sir Jasper Kingsland. "

"I will send for the clergyman, " Sir Jasper Kingsland said. "Do yourbest, Doctor Godroy, and for God's sake let me know the worst or bestas soon as may be. This suspense is horrible. "

Doctor Parker Godroy looked sympathetically at him through hisgold-bowed spectacles. 

"I will do my best, Sir Jasper, " he said, gravely. "The result is inthe hands of the Great Dispenser of life and death. Send for theclergyman, and wait and hope. "

He quitted the library as he spoke. Sir Jasper Kingsland seized thebell and rang a shrill peal. 

"Ride to the village--ride for your life!" he said, imperatively, tothe servant who answered, "and fetch the Reverend Cyrus Green here atonce. "

The man bowed and departed, and Sir Jasper Kingsland, Baronet, ofKingsland Court, was alone--alone in the gloomy grandeur of the vastlibrary; alone with his thoughts and the wailing midnight storm. 

A little toy time-piece of buhl on the stone mantel chimed musicallyits story of the hour, and Sir Jasper Kingsland lifted his gloomy eyesfor a moment at the sound. A tall, spare middle-aged man, handsomeonce--handsome still, some people said--with iron-gray hair and aproud, patrician face. 

"Twelve, " his dry lips whispered to themselves--"midnight, and forthree hours I have endured this maddening agony of suspense! Anotherday is given to the world, and before its close all I love best may becold and stark in death! Oh, my God! have mercy, and spare her!"

He lifted his clasped hands in passionate appeal. There was a pictureopposite--a gem of Raphael's--the Man of Sorrows fainting under theweight of the cross, and the fire's shine playing upon it seemed tolight the pallid features with a derisive smile. 

"The mercy you showed to others, the same shall be shown to you. Tigerheart, you were merciless in the days gone by. Let your black, badheart break, as you have broken others!"

No voice had sounded, yet he was answered. Conscience had spoken intrumpet-tones, and with a hollow groan the baronet turned away andbegan pacing up and down. 

It was a large and spacious apartment, this library of Kingsland Court, dimly lighted now by the flickering wood-fire and the mellow glow of abranch of wax-lights. Huge book-cases filled to overflowing lined thefour walls, and pictures precious as their weight in rubies lookedduskily down from their heavy frames. Busts and bronzes stood onbrackets and surmounted doors; a thick, rich carpet of moss-green, sprinkled with oak leaves and acorns, muffled the tread; voluminousdraperies of dark green shrouded the tall, narrow windows. The massivechairs and tables, fifty years old at least, were spindle-legged andrich in carving, upholstered in green velvet and quaintly embroidered, by hands moldered to dust long ago. Everything was old and grand, andfull of storied interest. And there, on the wall, was the crest of thehouse--the uplifted hand grasping a dagger--and the motto, in oldNorman French, "Strike once, and strike well. "

It is a very fine thing to be a baronet--a Kingsland of Kingsland, withfifteen thousand a year, and the finest old house in the county; but ifDeath will stalk grimly over your threshold and snatch away the lifeyou love more than your own, then even that glory is not omniscient. For this wintery midnight, while Sir Jasper Kingsland walks moodily upand down--up and down--Lady Kingsland, in the chamber above, lies illunto death. 

An hour passes--the clock in the turret and the buhl toy on the stonemantel toll solemnly one. The embers drop monotonously through thegrate--a dog bays deeply somewhere in the quadrangle below--the wailingwind of coming morning sighs lamentingly through the tossingcopper-beeches, and the roar of the surf afar off comes ever and anonlike distant thunder. The house is silent as the tomb--so horriblysilent that the cold drops start out on the face of the tortured man. Who knows? Death has been on the threshold of that upper chamber allnight, waiting for his prey. This awful hush may be the paean thatproclaims that he is master!

A tap at the door. The baronet paused in his stride and turned hisbloodshot eyes that way. His very voice was hollow and unnatural as hesaid:

"Come in. "

A servant entered--the same who had gone his errand. 

"The Reverend Cyrus Green is here, sir. Shall I show him up?"

"Yes--no--I cannot see him. Show him into the drawing-room until he isneeded. "

"He will not be needed, " said a voice at his elbow, and Doctor ParkerGodroy came briskly forward. "My dear Sir Jasper, allow me tocongratulate you! All is well, thank Heaven, and--it is a son!"

Sir Jasper Kingsland sunk into a seat, thrilling from head to foot, turning sick and faint in the sudden revulsion from despair to hope. 

"Saved?" he said, in a gasping whisper. "_Both_?"

"Both, my dear Sir Jasper!" the doctor responded, cordially. "Yourgood lady is very much prostrated--exhausted--but that was to be lookedfor, you know; and the baby--ah! the finest boy I have had the pleasureof presenting to an admiring world within ten years. Come and seethem!"

"May I?" the baronet cried, starting to his feet. 

"Certainly, my dear Sir Jasper--most certainly. There is nothing inthe world to hinder--only be a little cautious, you know. Our goodlady must be kept composed and quiet, and left to sleep; and you willjust take one peep and go. We won't need the Reverend Cyrus. "

He led the way from the library, rubbing his hands as your brisk littlephysicians do, up a grand stair-way where you might have driven a coachand four, and into a lofty and most magnificently furnished bed-chamber. 

"Quiet, now--quiet, " the doctor whispered, warningly. "Excite her, andI won't be answerable for the result. "

Sir Jasper Kingsland replied with a rapid gesture, and walked forwardto the bed. His own face was perfectly colorless, and his lips weretwitching with intense suppressed feeling. He bent above the stillform. 

"Olivia, " he said, "my darling, my darling!"

The heavy eyelids fluttered and lifted, and a pair of haggard, darkeyes gazed up at him. A wan smile parted those pallid lips. 

"Dear Jasper! I knew you would come. Have you seen the baby? It is aboy. "

"My own, I have thought only of you. My poor pale wife, how awfullydeath-like you look!"

"But I am not going to die--Doctor Godroy says so, " smiling gently. "And now you must go, for I cannot talk. Only kiss me first, and lookat the baby. "

Her voice was the merest whisper. He pressed his lips passionately tothe white face and rose up. Nurse and baby sat in state by the fire, and a slender girl of fifteen years knelt beside them, and gazed in asort of rapture at the infant prodigy. 

"Look, papa--look? The loveliest little thing, and nurse says the verypicture of you!"

Not very lovely, certainly; but Sir Jasper Kingsland's eyes lightedwith pride and joy as he looked. For was it not a boy? Had he not atlast, after weary, weary waiting, the desire of his heart--a son toinherit the estate and perpetuate the ancient name?

"It is so sweet, papa!" Miss Mildred whispered, her small, rathersickly face quite radiant; "and its eyes are the image of yours. He'sasleep now, you know, and you can't see them. And look at the dear, darling little hands and fingers and feet, and the speck of a nose andthe dot of a mouth! Oh papa! isn't it splendid to have a baby in thehouse?"

"Very splendid, " said papa, relaxing into a smile. "A fine littlefellow, nurse! There, cover him up again and let him sleep. We musttake extra care of the heir of Kingsland Court. And Mildred, child, you should be in bed. One o'clock is no hour for little girls to beout of their nests. "

"Oh, papa! as if I could sleep and not see the baby!"

"Well, you have seen it, and now run away to your room. Mamma and babyboth want to sleep, and nurse doesn't need you, I am sure. "

"That I don't, " said nurse, "nor the doctor, either. So run away, MissMilly, and go to sleep yourself. The baby will be here, all safe foryou, in the morning. "

The little girl--a flaxen-haired, pretty-featured child--kissed thebaby, kissed papa, and dutifully departed. Sir Jasper followed her outof the room, down the stairs, and back into the library, with the faceof a man who has just been reprieved from sudden death. As here-entered the library, he paused and started a step back, gazingfixedly at one of the windows. The heavy curtain had been partiallydrawn back, and a white, spectral face was glued to the glass, glaringin. 

"Who have we here?" said the baronet to himself; "that face can belongto no one in the house. "

He walked straight to the window--the face never moved. A hand wasraised and tapped on the glass. A voice outside spoke:

"For Heaven's sake, open and let me in, before I perish in this bitterstorm. "

Sir Jasper Kingsland opened the window and flung it wide. 

"Enter! whoever you are, " he said. "No one shall ask in vain atKingsland, this happy night. "

He stepped back, and, all covered with snow, the midnight intruderentered and stood before him. And Sir Jasper Kingsland saw thestrangest-looking creature he had ever beheld in the whole course ofhis life. 

CHAPTER II. 

ACHMET THE ASTROLOGER. 

An old man, yet tall and upright, wearing a trailing cloak of dullblack, long gray hair flowing over the shoulders, and tight to thescalp a skull-cap of black velvet. A patriarchal board, abundant andsilver-white, streamed down his breast, and out of a dull, white face, seamed and wrinkled, looked a pair of eyes piercing and black. 

Sir Jasper took a stop backward, and regarded this singular apparitionin wonder. The old man folded his arms across his bosom--and made hima profound Oriental salaam. 

"The Lord of Kingsland gazes in amaze at the uninvited stranger. Andyet I think destiny has sent me hither. "

"Who are you?" the baronet demanded. "What jugglery is this? Are youdressed for an Eastern dervish in a melodrama, and have you come hereto play a practical joke? I am afraid I can not appreciate the humorof the masquerade. Who are you?" sternly. 

"Men call me Achmet the Astrologer. "

"An astrologer? Humph! your black art, it seems, could not protect youfrom a January storm, " retorted Sir Jasper, with a cynical sneer. "Butcome in--come in. Astrologer or demon, or whatever you are, you looktoo old a man to be abroad such a night, when we would not turn anenemy's dog from the house. The doors of Kingsland are never closed tothe tired wayfarer, and of all nights in the year they should not heclosed to-night. "

"When an heir is born to an ancient name and a princely inheritance, you speak rightly, my Lord of Kingsland. "

"How say you? What do you know of the events of this night, SirAstrologer?"

"Much, Sir Jasper Kingsland, and for the very reason youderide--because I am an astrologer. I read the stars, and I lift theveil of the future, and, lo! I behold your life years before you havelived it!"

Sir Jasper Kingsland laughed a cynical, unbelieving laugh. 

"You jeer at me, you scoff at my words, " murmured the old man, in soft, steady tones, "and yet there was no one to tell me on my way here thata son and heir had been born to the house of Kingsland within the pasthour. "

He lifted his arm and pointed to the clock, his dark eyes fixed uponthe baronet's changing face. 

"You deride the power I profess, yet every day you quote your Englishpoet, and believe him when he says: 'There are more things in heavenand earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy. ' But I am accustomedto derision, and it does not offend me. Let me prove my power, so thateven the most resolute skeptic dare doubt no longer. Judge of my skillto read the future by my ability in reading the past. I have comehere--I have taken a long journey to look into the future of yournew-born son. Before I begin, let me look into the past of his father. Sir Jasper Kingsland, let me read your palm. "

But Sir Jasper drew back. 

"You have taken a long journey to look into the future of my son?Pray, what is my son to you?"

"That is my secret, Sir Jasper, and my secrets I keep. Come, holdforth your hand, and test my skill. "

"Why should I? Even if you can bring before me my past life, of whatuse will it be, since I must know all better than you?"

"My power to read the past may prove my power to read the future. "

"Nay, you may easily know the past, without magical skill. Manythanks, my venerable friend, but I will not put your necromancy to thetest. "

"Is Sir Jasper Kingsland afraid?" he said. "Surely not, for he comesof a daring race. And yet it seems like it. "

"By Heaven! if a younger man had spoken those words I would have hurledhim by the throat from yonder window. Be careful of your words, oldman, else even your hoary hairs may fail to save you. "

Once more the astrologer bent servilely. 

"I cry your mercy, my haughty Lord of Kingsland. It shall be as yousay. I will depart as I came. I will not serve you nor your new-bornson, since you refuse to be served. I will depart at once. I fear noearthly storm. Good-night, Sir Jasper Kingsland. Look to the heir ofyour house yourself. When 'angels unaware' visit you again, treat thembetter than you have treated me. "

With a gesture indescribably grand and kingly, the silver-haired oldman turned to go, folding his long cloak about him. But the voice ofthe baronet called him back. 

"Stay, " he said. "You speak of serving my son. What danger threatenshis infant life that you can avert?"

"I know of none. I have not cast the horoscope yet. "

"Then you wish to do so?"

"With your good permission. I have taken a long journey for that verypurpose, Sir Jasper. "

"Then you shall, " the baronet cried, yielding to a swift impulse--"youshall cast his horoscope. If it can avert no evil, it can, at least, cause none. But, first, there is no action without its ruling motive. What are me or mine to you, to make you take a long and toilsomejourney on our account?"

The old man paused, drawn up to his fullest height, imposing as a newKing Lear, his deep, dark eyes glowing with inward fire. 

"I will tell you, " he said. "Years ago, Sir Jasper, when you were ayoung man, you did an honor and a service to one I dearly love; that Ihave never forgotten and never will forget! You have ceased toremember it years ago, no doubt; but I never have, nor ever will untilmy dying day. "

"A service! an honor! What could it have been? I recollect nothing ofit. "

"I expected as much; but my memory is a good one. It is stamped on myheart forever. Great men like Sir Jasper Kingsland, grandees of theland, forget these little things. I owe you a long debt, Sir Jasper, and I will pay it to the uttermost farthing, so help me God!"

His black eyes blazed, his low voice rose, his arm uplifted fiercelyfor an instant in dire menace. Then, quick as lightning flashes, allwas transformed. The eyes were bent upon the carpet, the arms folded, the voice sunk, soft and servile. 

"Forgive me!" he murmured. "In my gratitude I forget myself. But youhave my motive in coming here--the desire to repay you; to look intothe future of your son; to see the evils that may threaten his youthand manhood, and to place you on your guard against them. 'Forwarnedis fore-armed, ' you know. Do not doubt my power. In far-off Orientallands, under the golden stars of Syria, I learned the lore of the wisemen of the East. I learned to read the stars as you Englishmen readyour printed books. Believe and trust, and let me cast the horoscopeof your son. "

"First let me test your vaunted power. Show me my past, before youshow me my son's future. "

He held forth his hand with a cynical smile, "As you will. Past and future are alike to me--save that the past iseasier to read. Ah! a palm seamed and crossed and marked with troubledlines. Forty years have not gone and left no trace behind--"

"Forty years!" interrupted Sir Jasper, with sneering emphasis. "Praydo not bungle in the very beginning. "

"I bungle not, " answered Achmet, sternly. "Forty years ago, on thethird of next month, you, Jasper Southdown Kingsland, were born beneaththis very roof. "

"Right!" he said. "You know my age. But go on. "

"Your boyhood you passed here--quiet, eventless years--with acommonplace mother and a dull, proud father. At ten, your mother wentto her grave. At twelve, the late Sir Noel followed her. At thirteen, you, a lonely orphan, were removed from this house to London in thecharge of a guardian that you hated. Am I not right?"

"You are. Pray go on. "

"At fourteen, you went to Rugby to school. From that time until youattained your majority your life passed in public schools anduniversities, harmlessly and monotonously enough. At twenty-one, youleft Cambridge, and started to make the grand tour. You were tolerablyclever; you were young and handsome, and heir to a noble inheritance. Your life was to be the life of a great and good man--a benefactor tothe human race. Your memory was to be a magnificent memento for awhole world to honor. Your dreams were wild, vague, and impracticable, and ended in--nothing. "

Sir Jasper Kingsland listened and stared like a man in a dream. Achmetthe Astrologer continued to read the palm with a fixed, stony face. 

"And now the lines are crossed, and the trouble begins. As usual, awoman is at the bottom of it. Sir Jasper Kingsland is in love. "

There was a pause. The baronet winced a little. 

"It is in Spain--glowing, gorgeous Spain--and she is one of itsloveliest children. The oranges and pomegranates scent the burningair, the vineyards glow in the tropic sun, and golden summer foreverreigns. But the glowing southern sun is not more brilliant than theSpanish gypsy's flashing black eyes, nor the pomegranate blossoms halfso ripe and red as her cheeks. She is Zenith, the Zingara, and youlove her!"

"In the fiend's name!" Sir Jasper Kingsland cried, "what jugglery isthis?"

"One moment more, my Lord of Kingsland, " he said, "and I have done. Let me see how your love-dream ends. Ah! the old, old story. Surely Imight have known. She is beautiful as the angels above, and asinnocent, and she loves you with a mad abandon that is worse thanidolatry--as only women ever love. And you? You are grand and noble, a milor Inglese, and you take her love--her crazy worship--as ademi-god might, with uplifted grace, as your birthright; and she isyour pretty toy of an hour. And then careless and happy, you are gone. Sunny Spain, with its olives and its vineyards, its pomegranates andits Zenith the Gitana, is left far behind, and you are roaming, happyand free, through La Belle France. And lo! Zenith the forsaken liesprone upon the ground, and goes stark mad for the day-god she has lost. There, Sir Jasper Kingsland! the record is a black one. I wish to readno more. "

He flung the baronet's hand away, and once more his eyes glowed likethe orbs of a demon. But Sir Jasper Kingsland, pale as a dead man, sawit not. 

"Are you man or devil?" he said, in an awe-struck tone. "No livingmortal knows what you have told me this night. "

Achmet the Astrologer smiled--a dire, dark smile. 

"Man, in league with the dark potentate you have named, if you like. Whatever I am, I have truthfully told you the past, as I willtruthfully tell your son's future. "

"By palmistry?"

"No, by the stars. And behold!" drawing aside the curtain, "yonderthey shine!"

"Take me to an upper room, " the astrologer exclaimed, in an inspiredtone, "and leave me. Destiny is propitious. The fate that ruled yourson's birth has set forth the shining stars for Achmet to read. Leadon!"

Like a man in a dreamy swoon, Sir Jasper Kingsland obeyed. He led theastrologer up the grand sweeping staircases--up and up, to the very topof the house--to the lofty, lonely battlements. Cloudless spread thewide night sky; countless and brilliant shone the stars; peaceful andmajestic slept, the purple sea; spotless white gleamed the snowy earth. A weird, witching scene. 

"Leave me, " said the astrologer, "and watch and wait. When the firstlittle pink cloud of sunrise blushes in the sky, come to me. My taskwill have ended. "

He waved him away with a regal motion. He stood there gazing at thestars, as a king looking upon his subjects. And the haughty baronet, without a word, turned and left him. 

The endless hours wore on--two, three, and four--and still the baronetwatched and waited, and looked for the coming of dawn. Faintly thesilver light broke in the Orient, rosy flushed the first red ray. SirJasper mounted to the battlements, still like a man in a dazed dream. 

Achmet the Astrologer turned slowly round. The pale, frosty sunrisehad blanched his ever-white face with a livid hue of death. In onehand he held a folded paper, in the other a pencil. He had beenwriting. 

"Have you done?" the baronet asked. 

"I am done. Your son's fate is here. "

He touched the paper. 

"Is that for me?" he asked, shrinking palpably from it even while hespoke. 

"This is for you. " The astrologer handed him the paper as he spoke. "It is for you to read--to do with after as you see fit. I have butone word to say: not I, but a mightier power traced the words you willread--your son's irrevocable fate. Don't hope to shirk it. My task isended, and I go. Farewell!"

"No, no, " the baronet cried; "not so! Remain and breakfast here. Themorning is but just breaking. "

"And before yonder sun is above the horizon I will be far away. No, Sir Jasper Kingsland, I break no bread under your roof. I have done mywork, and depart forever. Look to your son!"

He spoke the last words slowly, with a tigerish glare of hate leapingout of his eyes, with deadly menace in every syllable. Then he wasgone down the winding stair-way like a black ghost, and so out and away. 

Sir Jasper Kingsland took the folded paper and sought his room. Therein the pale day-dawn he tore it open. One side was covered withcabalistic characters, Eastern symbols, curious marks andhieroglyphics. The other side was written in French, in long, clear, legible characters. There was a heading: "Horoscope of the Heir ofKingsland. " Sir Jasper sat down and began to read. 

Nearly an hour after, a servant, entering to replenish the faded fire, fled out of the room and startled the household with his shrieks. Twoor three domestics rushed in. There lay Sir Jasper Kingsland prone onhis face on the floor, stiff and stark as a dead man. A paper, unintelligible to all, was clutched tightly as a death grip in hishand. Reading that crumpled paper, the strong man had fallen thereflat on the floor in a dead swoon. 

CHAPTER III. 

THE HUT ON THE HEATH. 

Far away from the lofty, battlemented ancestral home of Sir JasperKingsland--straight to the seashore went Achmet the Astrologer. A longstrip of bleak marshland spreading down the hill-side and sloping tothe sea, arid and dry in the summer-time--sloppy and sodden now--thatwas his destination. It was called Hunsden's Heath--a forlorn anddesolate spot, dotted over with cottages of the most wretched kind. Toone of these wretched hovels, standing nearest the sea and far removedfrom the rest, Achmet swiftly made his way. 

The sun was high in the heavens; the sea lay all a-glitter beneath it. The astrologer had got over the ground at a swift, swinging stride, andhe had walked five miles at least; but he paused now, with little signof fatigue in his strange white face. Folding his arms over hisbreast, he surveyed the shining sky, the glittering sea, with a slow, dreamy smile. 

"The sun shines and the sea sparkles on the natal day of the heir ofKingsland, " he said to himself; "but for all that it is a fatal day tohim. 'The sins of the father shall be visited on the children even tothe third and fourth generation, ' saith the Book Christians believe in. Christians!" he laughed a harsh, strident laugh. "Sir Jasper Kingslandis a Christian! The religion that produces such men must be a gloriousone. He was a Christian when he perjured himself and broke her heart. 'Tis well. As a Christian he can not object to the vengeanceChristianity teaches. "

He turned away, approached the lonely hut, and tapped thrice--sharpstaccato knocks--at the door. The third one was answered. The doorswung back, and a dark damsel looked out. 

"Is it thee, Pietro?"

"It is I, Zara. "

He stepped in as he spoke, closed the door, took her face between hishands, and kissed both brown cheeks. The girl's dark face lighted upinto the splendor of absolute beauty as she returned his caress. 

"And how is it with thee, my Zara, and thy little one?"

"It is well. And thyself, Pietro?"

"Very well. And the mother?"

"Ah, the mother! Poor mother! She lies as you saw her last--as youwill always see her in this lower world--dead in life! And he"--thegirl Zara's eyes lighted fiercely up--"didst see him, Pietro?"

"I have seen him, spoken to him, told him the past, and terrified himfor the future. There is a son, Zara--a new-born son. "

"Dog and son of a dog!" Zara cried, furiously. "May curses light uponhim in the hour of his birth, and upon all who bear his hated name!Say, Pietro, why didst thou not strangle the little viper as you wouldany other poisonous reptile?"

"My Zara, I did not even see him. He lies cradled in rose leaves, nodoubt, and the singing of the west wind is not sweet enough for hislullaby. No profane eye must rest on this sacred treasure fresh fromthe hands of the gods! Is he not the heir of Kingsland? But Achmetthe Astrologer has cast his horoscope, and Achmet, and Zara, his wife, wilt see that the starry destiny is fulfilled. Shall we not?"

"If I only had him here, " Zara cried, clawing the air with her twohands, "I would throttle the baby snake, and fling him dead in hisfather's face. And that father! Oh, burning alive would be far toomerciful for him!"

Achmet smiled, and drew her long black braids caressingly through hisfingers. 

"You know how to hate, and you will teach our little one. Yes, thefate I have foretold shall come to pass, and the son of Sir Jasper willlive to curse the day of his birth. And now I will remove my disguise, and wash and breakfast, for I feel the calls of hunger. "

The lower apartment of the hut on the heath was the very picture ofabject poverty and dreary desolation. The earthen floor was broken andrough; the sunlight came sifting through the chinks in the brokenwalls. A smoky fire of wet driftwood smoldered, under a pot on thecrook. There was neither table nor chairs. A straw pallet with awretched coverlet lay in one corner; a few broken stools were scatteredaround; a few articles of clothing hung on the wall. That was all. 

"The little one sleeps, " the man said, casting a swift glance over atthe pallet. "Our pretty baby, Zara. Ah, if Sir Jasper Kingsland loveshis first-born son as we love our child, or half so well, we are almostavenged already!"

"He had need to love it better than his first-born daughter!" Zarasaid, fiercely. "The lion loves its whelp, the tiger its cub; but he, less human than the brutes, casts off his offspring in the hour of itsbirth!"

"Meaning yourself, my Zara?" the man said, with his slow, soft smile. "What would you have, degraded daughter of a degraded mother--his toyof an hour? And there is another daughter--a fair-haired, insipidnonentity of a dozen years, no more like our beautiful one here than afarthing rush-light is like the stars of heaven. "

He drew down the tattered quilt, and gazed with shining eyes of loveand admiration at the sleeping face of a child, a baby girl of scarcetwo years, the cherub face rosy with sleep, smiling in her dreams; thelong, silky black lashes sweeping the flushed cheek; the abundant, feathery, jet-black curls floating loosely about--an exquisite pictureof blooming, healthful, beautiful childhood. 

Zara came to where the man knelt. 

"My beautiful one! my rosebud!" she murmured. "Pietro, the sun shineson nothing half so lovely in this lower world!"

"And yet the black, bad blood of the Gitana flows in her veins, too. She is a Spanish gypsy, as her mother and grandmother before her. Nay, not her mother, since the blue blood of all the Kingsland's flows inher veins. "

"Never!" cried Zara, her eyes ablaze. "If I thought one drop of thatman's bitter blood throbbed in my heart, the first knife I met shouldlet it forth. Look at me!" she wildly cried, "look at me, Pietro--Zara, your wife! Have I one look of him or his abhorredEnglish race?"

"My Zara, no! You are Sir Jasper Kingsland's daughter, but there is nolook of the great Sir Jasper in your gypsy face, nor in the face of ourdarling, either. She is all our own!"

"I would strangle her in her cradle, dearly as I love her, else!" thewoman said, her passionate face aflame. "Pietro, my blood is likeliquid fire when I think of him and my mother's wrongs. "

"Wait, Zara--wait. The wheel will turn and our time come. And now forbreakfast!"

She whipped off the pot, removed the lid, and a savory gush of steamfilled the room. The man Pietro laughed. 

"Our poached hare smells appetizing. Keep the choicest morsel for themother, Zara, and tell her I will be with her presently. There!Achmet the Astrologer lies in a heap. "

He had deftly taken off his flowing cloak, his long, silvery beard andhair, and flung them together in a corner, and now he stood in thecenter of the room, a stalwart young fellow of thirty or thereabouts, with great Spanish eyes and profuse curling hair of an inky blackness. 

"Let me but wash this white enamel off my face, " he said, givinghimself a shake, "and Pietro is himself again. Sir Jasper would hardlyrecognize Achmet, I fancy, if he saw him now. "

He walked to a shelf on which was placed a wash-bowl and towel, andplunged his face and head into the cold water. Five minutes' vigoroussplashing and rubbing, and he emerged, his pallid face brown as aberry, his black hair in a snarl of crisp curls. 

"And now to satisfy the inner man, " he said, walking over to the pot, seizing a wooden spoon, and drawing up a cricket. "My tramp of lastnight and this morning has made me famously hungry, Zara. "

"And the hare soup is good, " said Zara. "While you breakfast, Pietro, I will go to mother. Come up when you finish. "

A steep stair-way that was like a ladder led to the loft. Zaraascended this with agile fleetness, and the late astrologer was leftalone at his very unmagician-like work of scraping the pot with awooden spoon. Once or twice, as the fancy crossed him of the contrastbetween Achmet, the Astrologer reading the stars, and Pietro the trampscraping the bones of the stolen hare, he laughed grimly to himself. 

"And the world is made up of just such contrasts, " he thought, "andPietro at his homely breakfast is more to be dreaded than Achmetcasting the horoscope. Ah! Sir Jasper Kingsland, it is a very finething to be a baronet with fifteen thousand pounds a year, a nobleancestral seat, a wife you love, and a son you adore. And yet Pietro, the vagabond tramp--the sunburned gypsy, with stolen hares to eat, andrags to wear, and a hut to lodge in--would not exchange places with youthis bright March day. We have sworn vendetta to you and all of yourblood, and we will keep our vow!"

His swarthy face darkened with passionate vindictiveness as he arose. 

"'As a man sows so shall he reap, '" he muttered between his clinchedteeth, setting his face toward Kingsland Court. "You, my Lord ofKingsland, have sown the wind. You shall learn what it is to reap thewhirlwind!"

"Pietro! Pietro!" crowed a little voice, gleefully. "Papa Pietro!take Sunbeam!"

The little sleeper in the bed had sat up, her bright, dark facesparkling, two little dimpled arms outstretched. 

The man turned, his vindictive face growing radiant. 

"Papa Pietro's darling! his life! his angel! And how does the littleSunbeam?"

He caught her up, covering her face with kisses. 

"My love! my life! my darling! When Pietro is dead, and Zara is oldand feeble, and Zenith dust and ashes, you will live, my radiant angel, my black-eyed beauty, to perpetuate the malediction. When his son is aman, you will be a woman, with all a woman's subtle power and more thana woman's beauty, and you will be his curse, and his bane, and hisblight, as his father has been ours! Will you not, my little Sunbeam?"

"Yes, papa--yes, papa!" lisped the little one. 

"Pietro!" called his wife, "if you have done breakfast, come up. Mother is awake and would see you. "

"Coming, _carissima_!"

He kissed the baby girl, placed her on the pallet, and sprung lightlyup the steep stair. 

The loft was just a shade less wretched than the apartment below. There was a bed on the floor, more decently covered, two broken chairs, a table with some medicine bottles and cups, and a white curtain on theone poor window. 

On the bed lay a woman, over whom Pietro bent reverently the moment heentered the room. It was the wreck of a woman who, in the days goneby, must have been gloriously beautiful; who was beautiful still, despite the ravages years, sickness, and poverty had wrought. 

The eyes that blazed brilliant and black were the eyes of Zara--theeyes of the baby Sunbeam below--and this woman was the mother of one, the grandmother of the other. 

Pietro knelt by the pallet and tenderly kissed one transparent hand. The great black eyes turned upon him wild and wide. 

"Thou hast seen him, Pietro?" in a breathless sort of way. "Zara saysso. "

"I have seen him, my mother; I have spoken to him. I spent hours withSir Jasper Kingsland last night. "

"Thou didst?" Her words came pantingly, while passion throbbed inevery line of her face. "And there is a son--an heir?"

"There is. "

She snatched her hand away and threw up her withered arms with avindictive shriek. 

"And I lie here, a helpless log, and he triumphs! I, Zenith, the Queenof the Tribe--I, once beautiful and powerful, happy and free! I liehere, a withered hulk, what he has made me! And a son and heir is bornto him!"

As if the thought had goaded her to madness, she leaped up in bed, tossing her gaunt arms and shrieking madly:

"Take me to him--take me to him! Zara! Pietro! Take me to him, if yeare children of mine, that I may hurl my burning curse upon him and hisson before I die!"

She fell back with an impotent scream, and the man Pietro caught her inhis arms. Quivering and convulsed, she writhed in an epileptic fit. 

"She will kill herself yet, " Pietro said. "Hand me the drops, Zara. "

Zara poured something out of a bottle into a cup, and Pietro held it tothe sick woman's livid lips. 

She choked and swallowed, and, as if by magic, lay still in his arms. Very tenderly he laid her back on the bed. 

"She will sleep now, Zara, " he said. "Let us go. "

They descended the stairs. Down below, the man laid his hands on hiswife's shoulders and looked into her face. 

"Watch her, Zara, " he said, "for she is mad, and the very firstopportunity she will make her escape and seek out Sir Jasper Kingsland;and that is the very last thing I want. So watch your mother well. "

CHAPTER IV. 

AN UNINVITED GUEST. 

Sir Jasper Kingsland stood moodily alone. He was in the library, standing by the window--that very window through which, one stormynight scarcely a month before, he had admitted Achmet the Astrologer. He stood there with a face of such dark gloom that all the brightnessof the sunlit April day could not cast one enlivening gleam. 

He stood there scowling darkly upon it all, so lost in his own somberthoughts that he did not hear the library door open, nor the softrustle of a woman's dress as she halted on the threshold. 

A fair and stately lady, with a proud, colorless face lighted up withpale-blue eyes, and with bands of pale flaxen hair pushed away under adainty lace cap--a lady who looked scarce thirty, although almost tenyears older, unmistakably handsome, unmistakably proud. It was Olivia, Lady Kingsland. 

"Alone, Sir Jasper!" a musical voice said. "May I come in, or do youprefer solitude and your own thoughts?"

The sweet voice--soft and low, as a lady's voice should be--broke thesomber spell that bound him. He wheeled round, his dark, moody facelighting up at sight of her, as all the glorious morning sunshine nevercould have lighted it. That one radiant look would have told you howhe loved his wife. 

"You, Olivia?" he cried, advancing. "Surely this is a surprise! Mydearest, is it quite prudent in you to leave your room?"

He took the slender, white-robed figure in his arms, and kissed her astenderly as a bridegroom of a week might have done. Lady Kingslandlaughed a soft, tinkling little laugh. 

"A month is quite long enough to be a prisoner, Jasper, even although aprisoner of state. And on my boy's christening fete--the son and heirI have desired so long--ah, surely a weaker mother than I might essayto quit her room. "

The moody darkness, like a palpable frown, swept over the baronet'sface again at her words. 

"Is he dressed?" he asked. 

"He is dressed and asleep, and Lady Helen and Mr. Carlyon, hisgodmother and godfather, are hovering over the crib like twin guardianangels. And Mildred sits _en grande tenue_ on her cricket, in aspeechless trance of delight, and nurse rustles about in her new silkgown and white lace cap with an air of importance and self-complacencyalmost indescribable. The domestic picture only wants papa and mammato make it complete. "

She laughed as she spoke, a little sarcastically; but Sir Jasper'sattempt even to smile was a ghastly failure. 

Lady Kingsland folded both her hands on his shoulder, and looked up inhis face with anxious, searching eyes. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

The baronet laughed uneasily. 

"What is what?"

"This gloom, this depression, this dark, mysterious moodiness. Jasper, what has changed you of late?"

"Mysterious moodiness! changed me of late! Nonsense, Olivia! I don'tknow what you mean. "

Again he strove to laugh, and again it was a wretched failure. 

Lady Kingsland's light-blue eyes never left his face. 

"I think you do, Jasper. Since the night of our boy's birth you havebeen another man. What is it?"

A spasm crossed the baronet's face; his lips twitched convulsively; hisface slowly changed to a gray, ashen pallor. 

"What is it?" the lady slowly reiterated. "Surely my husband, afterall these years, has no secrets from me?"

The tender reproach of her tone, of her eyes, stung the husband, wholoved her, to the quick. 

"For God's sake, Olivia, don't ask me!" he cried passionately. "Itwould be sheerest nonsense in your eyes, I know. You would but laughat what half drives me mad!"

Jasper!"

"Don't look at me with that reproachful face, Olivia! It is true. Youwould look upon it as sheerest folly, I tell you, and laugh at me for acredulous fool. "

"No, " said Lady Kingsland, quietly, and a little coldly. "You know mebetter. I could never laugh at what gives my husband pain. "

"Pain! I have lived in torment ever since, and yet--who knows?--it maybe absurdest jugglery. But he told me the past so truly--my verythoughts! And no one could know what happened in Spain so many yearsago! Oh, I must believe it--I can not help it--and that belief willdrive me mad!"

Lady Kingsland stood looking and listening, in pale wonder. 

"I don't understand a word of this, " she said, slowly. "Will you tellme, Sir Jasper, or am I to understand you have secrets your wife maynot share?"

"My own dear wife, " he said--"my best beloved--Heaven knows, if I haveone secret from you, I keep it that I may save you sorrow. Not onecloud should ever darken the sunshine of your sky, if I had my way. You are right--I have a secret--a secret of horror, and dread, anddismay--a terrible secret that sears my brain and burns my heart!Olivia, my darling, its very horror prevents my telling it to you!"

"Does it concern our boy?" she asked, quickly. 

"Yes!" with a groan. "Now you can understand its full terror. Itmenaces the son I love more than life. I thought to keep it from you;I tried to appear unchanged; but it seems I have failed miserably. "

"And you will not tell me what this secret is?"

"I dare not! I would not have you suffer as I suffer. "

"A moment ago you said I would laugh at it and you. Your terms areinconsistent, Sir Jasper. "

"Spare me, Olivia!--I scarce know what I say--and do not be angry. "

She drew her hands coldly and haughtily away from his grasp. She was athoroughly proud woman, and his secrecy stung her. 

"I am not angry, Sir Jasper. Keep your secret, if you will. I wasfoolish enough to fancy I had right to know of any danger that menacesmy baby, but it appears I was mistaken. In half an hour the carriageswill start for the church. You will find us all in the nursery. "

She was sweeping proudly away in silent anger, but the baronet strodeafter her and caught her arm. 

"You will know this!" he said, huskily. "Olivia, Olivia! you are cruelto yourself and to me, but you shall hear--part, at least. I warn you, however, you will be no happier for knowing. "

"Go on, " she said, steadily. 

He turned from her, walked to the window, and kept his back to herwhile he spoke. 

"You have no faith in fortune-tellers, clairvoyants, astrologers, andthe like, have you, Olivia?"

"Most certainly not!"

"Then what I have to say will scarcely trouble you as it troublesme--for I believe; and the prediction of an astrologer has ruined mypeace for the past month. "

"Is that all? The mountain in labor has brought forth a mouse. Mydear Sir Jasper, how can you be so simply credulous?"

"I knew you would laugh, " said Sir Jasper, moodily; "I said so. Butlaugh if you can. I believe!"

"Was the prediction very terrible, then?" asked his wife, with a smile. "Pray tell me all about it. "

"It was terrible, " her husband replied, sternly. "The living horror ithas cast over me might have told you that. Listen, Olivia! On thatnight of our baby boy's birth, after I left you and came here, I stoodby this window and saw a spectral face gleaming through the glass. Itwas the face of a man--a belated wayfarer--who adjured me, in theSavior's name, to let him in. "

"Well, you let him in, I suppose?"

"I let him in--a strange-looking object, Olivia, like no creature Iever saw before, with flowing beard and hair silver-white--"

"False, no doubt. "

"He wore a long, disguising cloak and a skull-cap, " went on Sir Jasper, "and his face was blanched to a dull dead white. He would have lookedlike a resuscitated corpse, only for a pair of burning black eyes. "

"Quite a startling apparition! Melodramatic in the extreme! And thissingular being--what was he? Clairvoyant, astrologer, what?"

"Astrologer--an Eastern astrologer--Achmet by name. "

"And who, probably, never was further than London in his life-time. Awell-got-up charlatan, no doubt. "

"Charlatan he may have been; Englishman he was not. His face, hisspeech, convinced me of that. And, Olivia, charlatan or no, he told memy past life as truly as I knew it myself. "

Lady Kingsland listened with a quiet smile. 

"No doubt he has been talking to the good people of the village and tothe servants in the house. "

"Neither the people of the village nor the servants of the house knowaught of what he told me. He showed me what transpired twenty yearsago. 

"Twenty years ago?"

"Yes, when I was fresh from Cambridge, and making my first tour. Events that occurred in Spain--that no one under heaven save myself canknow of--he told me. "

"That was strange!"

"Olivia, it was astounding--incomprehensible! I should never havecredited one word he said but for that. He told me the past as I knowit myself. Events that transpired in a far foreign land a score ofyears ago, known, as I thought, to no creature under heaven, he told meof as if they had transpired yesterday. The very thoughts that Ithought in that by-gone time he revealed as if my heart lay open beforehim. How, then, could I doubt? If he could lift the veil of theirrevocable past, why not be able to lift the veil of the mysteriousfuture? He took the hour of our child's birth and ascended to thebattlements, and there, alone with the stars of heaven, he cast hishoroscope. Olivia, men in all ages have believed in this power ofastrology, and I believe as firmly as I believe in Heaven. "

Lady Kingsland listened, and that quiet smile of half amusement, halfcontempt never left her lips. 

"And the horoscope proved a horrorscope, no doubt, " she said, the smiledeepening. "You paid your astrologer handsomely, I presume, SirJasper?"

"I gave him nothing. He would take nothing--not even a cup of water. Of his own free will he cast the horoscope, and, without reward of anykind, went his way when he had done. "

"What did you say the name was?"

"Achmet the Astrologer. "

"Melodramatic again! And now, Sir Jasper, what awful fate betides ourboy?"

"Ask me not! You do not believe. What the astrologer foretold I shalltell no one. "

"The carriage waits, my lady, " a servant said, entering. "Lady Helenbade me remind you, my lady, it is time to start for church. "

Lady Kingsland hastily glanced at her watch. 

"Why, so it is! I had nearly forgotten. Come, Sir Jasper, and forgetyour fears on this happy day. "

She led him from the room. Baby, in its christening-robes, slept innurse's arms, and Lady Helen and Mr. Carlyon stood impatiently waiting. 

"We will certainly be late!" Lady Helen, who was god-mamma, said, fussily. "Had we not better depart at once, Sir Jasper?"

"I am quite at your ladyship's service. We will not delay an instantlonger. Proceed, nurse. "

Nurse, with her precious burden, went before. Sir Jasper drew LadyHelen's arm within his own, and Mr. Carlyon followed with littleMildred Kingsland. 

Lady Kingsland watched the carriage out of sight, and then went slowlyand thoughtfully back to her room. 

"How extremely foolish and weak of Sir Jasper, " she was thinking, "topay the slightest attention to the canting nonsense of thesefortune-telling impostors! If I had been in his place I would have hadhim horsewhipped from my gates for his pains. I must find out whatthis terrible prediction was and laugh it out of my husband's mind. "

Meantime the carriage rolled down the long avenue, under the majesticcopper-beeches, through the lofty gates, and along the bright sunlitroad leading to the village. 

In stole and surplice, within the village church, the Reverend CyrusGreen, Rector of Stonehaven, stood by the baptismal font, waiting tobaptize the heir of all the Kingslands. 

Stately, Sir Jasper Kingsland strode up the aisle, with Lady Helen uponhis arm. No trace of the trouble within showed in his pale face as heheard his son baptized Everard Jasper Carew Kingsland. 

The ceremony was over. Nurse took the infant baronet again; Lady Helenadjusted her mantle, and the Reverend Cyrus Green was blandly offeringhis congratulations to the greatest man in the parish, when a suddencommotion at the door startled all. Some one striving to enter, andsome other one refusing admission. 

"Let me in, I tell you!" cried a shrill, piercing voice--the voice ofan angry woman. "Stand aside, woman! I will see Sir Jasper Kingsland. "

With the last ringing words the intruder burst past the pew-opener, andrushed wildly into the church. A weird and unearthly figure--like oneof Macbeth's witches--with streaming black hair floating over a long, red cloak, and two black eyes of flame. All recoiled as the spectralfigure rushed up like a mad thing and confronted Sir Jasper Kingsland. 

"At last!" she shrilly cried, in a voice that pierced even to thegaping listeners without--"at last, Sir Jasper Kingsland! At last wemeet again!"

There was a horrible cry as the baronet started back, putting up bothhands, with a look of unutterable horror. 

"Good God! Zenith!"

"Yes, Zenith!" shrieked the woman; "Zenith, the beautiful, once!Zenith, the hag, the crone, the madwoman, now! Look at me well, SirJasper Kingsland--for the ruin is your own handiwork!"

He stood like a man paralyzed--speechless, stunned--his face the lividhue of death. 

The wretched woman stood before him with streaming hair, blazing eyes, and uplifted arm, a very incarnate fury. 

"Look at me well!" she fiercely shrieked, tossing her locks of old offher fiery face. "Am I like the Zenith of twenty years ago--young andbeautiful, and bright enough even for the fastidious Englishman tolove? Look at me now--ugly and old, wrinkled and wretched, desertedand despised--and tell me if I have not greater reason to hate you thanever woman had to hate man?"

She tossed her arms aloft with a madwoman's shriek--crying out herwords in a long, wild scream. 

"I hate you--I hate you! Villain! dastard! perjured wretch! I hateyou, and I curse you, here in the church you call holy! I curse youwith a ruined woman's curse, and hot and scathing may it burn on yourhead and on the heads of your children's children!"

The last horrible words aroused the listeners from their petrifiedtrance. The Reverend Cyrus Green lifted up his voice in a tone ofcommand:

"This woman is mad! She is a furious lunatic! Dawson! Humphreys!come here and secure her!"

"The child! the child!" she cried, with a screech of demoniac delight;"the spawn of the viper is within my grasp!"

One plunge forward and the infant heir was in her arms, held highaloft. One second later, and its blood and brains would havebespattered the stone floor, but Mr. Carlyon sprung forward andwrenched it from her grasp. 

The two men summoned by the clergyman closed upon her and held herfast; her frantic shrieks rang to the roof. Then suddenly, all ceased, and, foaming and livid, she fell between them in a fit. 

CHAPTER V. 

ZENITH'S MALEDICTION. 

A dead pause of blank consternation; the faces around a sight to see;horror and wonder in every countenance--most of all in the countenanceof Sir Jasper Kingsland. 

The clergyman was the first to speak. 

"The woman is stark mad, " he said. "We must see about this. Suchviolent lunatics must not be allowed to go at large. Here, Humphreys, do you and Dawson lift her up and carry her to my house. It is thenearest, and she can be properly attended to there. "

"You know her, Sir Jasper, do you not?" asked Lady Helen, with quickwomanly intuition. 

"Know her?" Sir Jasper replied, "know Zenith? Great Heaven! I thoughtshe was dead. "

The Reverend Cyrus Green and Lady Helen exchanged glances. Mr. Carlyonlooked in sharp surprise at the speaker. 

"Then she is not mad, after all! I thought she mistook you for someone else. If you know her, you have the best right to deal with her. Shall these men take her to Kingsland Court?"

"Not for ten thousand worlds!" Sir Jasper cried, impetuously. "Thewoman is nothing--less than nothing--to me. I knew her once, yearsago. I thought her dead and buried; hence the shock her suddenentrance gave me. A lunatic asylum is the proper place for such asshe. Let Mr. Green send her there, and the sooner the better. "

The Reverend Cyrus Green looked with grave, suspicious eyes for amoment at the leaden face of the speaker. 

"There is wrong and mystery about this, " he thought--"a dark mystery ofguilt. This woman is mad, but her wrongs have driven her mad, and you, Sir Jasper Kingsland, are her wronger. "

"It shall be as you say, Sir Jasper, " he said, aloud; "that is, if Ifind this poor creature has no friends. Are you aware whether she hasany?"

"I tell you I know nothing of her!" the baronet cried, with fierceimpatience. "What should I know of such a wretch as that?"

"More than you dare tell, Sir Jasper Kingsland!" cried a high, ringingvoice, as a young woman rushed impetuously into the church and up theaisle. "Coward and liar! False, perjured wretch! You are toowhite-livered a hound even to tell the truth! What should you know ofsuch a wretch as that, forsooth! Double-dyed traitor and dastard!Look me in the face and tell me you don't know her!"

Every one shrunk in terror and dismay; Sir Jasper stood as a man mightstand suddenly struck by lightning. And if looks were lightning, theblazing eyes of the young woman might have blasted him where he stood. A tall and handsome young woman, with black eyes of fire, streaming, raven hair, and a brown gypsy face. 

"Who are you, in mercy's name?" cried the Reverend Cyrus Green. 

"I am the daughter of this wretch, as your baronet yonder is pleased tocall my mad mother. Yes, Mr. Green, she is my mother. If you want toknow who my father is, you had better ask Sir Jasper Kingsland!"

"It is false!" the baronet cried, "I know nothing of you or yourfather. I never set eyes on you before. "

"Wait, wait, wait!" the Reverend Cyrus Green cried, imploringly. "ForHeaven's sake, young woman, don't make a scene before all theselisteners. We will have your mother conveyed into the vestry until sherecovers; and if she ever recovers, no time is to be lost in attendingto her. Sir Jasper, I think the child had better be sent homeimmediately. My lady will wonder at the delay. "

A faint wail from the infant lying in the nurse's arms seconded thesuggestion. That feeble cry and the mention of his wife acted as amagic spell upon the baronet. 

"Your mad intruders have startled us into forgetting everything else. Proceed, nurse. Lady Helen, take my arm. Mr. Carlyon, see to Mildred. The child looks frightened to death, and little wonder!"

"Little, indeed!" sighed Lady Helen. "I shall not recover from theshock for a month. It was like a scene in a melodrama--like a chapterof a sensation novel. And you know that dreadful creature, Sir Jasper?"

"I used to know her, " the baronet said, with emphasis, "so many yearsago that I had almost forgotten she ever existed. She was always moreor less mad, I fancy, and it seems hereditary. Her daughter--ifdaughter she be--seems as distraught as her mother. "

"And her name, Sir Jasper? You called her by some name, I think. "

"Zenith, I suppose. To tell the truth, Lady Helen, the woman isneither more nor less than a gypsy fortune-teller crazed by avillainous life and villainous liquor. But, for the sake of the daysgone by, when she was young and pretty and told my fortune, I think Iwill go back and see what Mr. Green intends doing with her. Such crazyvagrants should not be allowed to go at large. "

The light tone was a ghastly failure, and the smile but a death's-headgrin. He placed Lady Helen in the carriage--Mr. Carlyon assisted thenurse and little Mildred. Then Sir Jasper gave the order, "Home, " andthe stately carriage of the Kingslands, with its emblazoned crest, whirled away in a cloud of dust. For an instant he stood looking afterit. 

"Curses on it!" he muttered between set teeth. "After all these years, are those dead doings to be flung in my face? I thought her dead andgone; and lo! in the hour of my triumph she rises as if from the graveto confound me. Her daughter, too! I never knew she had a child!Good heavens! how these wild oats we sow in youth flourish and multiplywith their bitter, bad fruit!"

He turned and strode into the vestry. On the floor the miserable womanlay, her eyes closed, her jaw fallen. By her side, supporting herhead, the younger woman knelt, holding a glass of water to her lips. The Reverend Cyrus Green stood gravely looking on. 

"Is she dead?" Sir Jasper asked, in a hard voice. 

It was to the clergyman he spoke, but the girl looked fiercely up, hertones like a serpent's hiss. 

"Not dead, Sir Jasper Kingsland! No thanks to you for it!Murderer--as much a murderer as if you had cut her throat--look on her, and be proud of the ruin you have wrought!"

"Silence, woman!" Mr. Green ordered, imperiously. "We will have noneof your mad recriminations here. She is not dead, Sir Jasper, but sheis dying, I think. This young woman wishes to remove her--whither, Iknow not--but it is simply impossible. That unfortunate creature willnot be alive when to-morrow dawns. "

"What do you propose doing with her?" the baronet asked, steadily. 

"We will convey her to the sexton's house--it is very near. I havesent Dawson for a stretcher; he and Humphreys will carry her. Thisyoung woman declines to give her name, or tell who she is, or where shelives. "

"Where I live is no affair of yours, if I can not take my motherthere, " the young woman answered, sullenly. "Who I am, you know. Itold you I am this woman's daughter. "

"And a gypsy, I take it?" said Mr. Green. 

"You guess well, sir, but only half the truth. Half gypsy I am, andhalf gentlewoman. A mongrel, I suppose, that makes; and yet it is wellto have good blood in one's veins, even on the father's side. "

There was a sneering emphasis in her words, and the snaky black eyesgleamed like daggers on the baronet. 

But that proud face was set and rigid as stone now. He returned herlook with a haughty stare. 

"It is a pity the whipping-post has been abolished, " he said, harshly. "Your impertinence makes you a fit subject for it, mistress! Take carewe don't commit you to prison as a public vagrant, and teach thattongue of yours a little civility when addressing your betters. "

"My betters!" the girl hissed, in a fierce, sibilant whisper. "Why, yes, I suppose a daughter should look upon a father in that light. Asto the whipping-post and prison, try it at your peril! Try it, if youdare, Sir Jasper. "

Before he could speak the door opened, and Dawson entered with thestretcher. 

"Lay her upon it and remove her at once, " the rector said. "Here, Humphreys, this side. Gently, my men--gently. Be very careful on theway. "

The two men placed the seemingly lifeless form of Zenith on thestretcher and bore her carefully away. 

The daughter Zara followed. 

"She will not live until to-morrow morning, " the rector said; "and itis better so, poor soul! She is evidently hopelessly insane. "

"And the daughter appears but little better. By the way, Mr. Green, Lady Kingsland desires me to fetch you back to dinner. "

The rector bowed. 

"Her ladyship is very good. Has your carriage gone? I will order outthe pony-phaeton, if you like. "

Ten minutes later the two gentlemen were bowling along the pleasantcountry road leading to the Court. It was a very silent drive, for thebaronet sat moodily staring at vacancy, his mouth set in hard, wordlesspain. 

"They will tell Olivia, " he was thinking, gloomily. "What will she sayto all this?"

But his fears seemed groundless. Lady Kingsland treated the matterwith cool indifference. To be sure, she had not heard quite all. Amadwoman had burst into the church, had terrified Lady Helen prettynearly to death with her crazy language, and had tried to tear away thebaby. That was the discreet story my lady heard, and which she wasdisposed to treat with calm surprise. Baby was safe, and it had endedin nothing; the madwoman was being properly cared for. Lady Kingslandquietly dismissed the incident altogether before the end of dinner. 

The hours of the evening wore on--very long hours to the lord ofKingsland Court, seated at the head of his table, dispensing hishospitalities and trying to listen to the long stories of Mr. Carlyonand the rector. 

It was worse in the drawing-room, with the lights and the music, andhis stately wife at the piano, and Lady Helen at his side, prattlingwith little Mildred over a pile of engravings. All the time, in ahalf-distracted sort of way, his thoughts were wandering to thesexton's cottage and the woman dying therein--the woman he had thoughtdead years ago--dying there in desolation and misery--and here thehours seemed strung on roses. 

It was all over at last. The guests were gone, the baby baronet sleptin his crib, and Lady Kingsland had gone to her chamber. But SirJasper lingered still--wandering up and down the long drawing-room likea restless ghost. 

A clock on the mantel chimed twelve. Ere its last chime had sounded asleepy valet stood in the doorway. 

"A messenger for you, Sir Jasper--sent by the Reverend Mr. Green. Here--come in. "

Thus invoked, Mr. Dawson entered, pulling his forelock. 

"Parson, he sent me, zur. She be a-doying, she be. "

He knew instantly who the man meant. 

"And she wishes to see me?"

"She calls for you all the time, zur. She be a-doying uncommon hard. Parson bid me come and tell 'ee. "

"Very well, my man, " the baronet said. "That will do. I will go atonce. Thomas, order my horse, and fetch my riding-cloak and gloves. "

The valet stared in astonishment, but went to obey. It was somethingaltogether without precedent, this queer proceeding on the part of hismaster, and, taken in connection with that other odd event in church, looked remarkably suspicious. 

The night was dark and starless, and the wind blew raw and bleak as thebaronet dashed down the avenue and out into the high-road. He almostwondered at himself for complying with the dying woman's desire, butsome inward impulse beyond his control seemed driving him on. 

He rode rapidly, and a quarter of an hour brought him to the sexton'scottage. A feeble light glimmered from the window out into theblackness of the night. A moment later and he stood within, in thepresence of the dying. 

The Reverend Cyrus Green sat by the table, a Bible in his hand. Kneeling by the bedside, her face ghastly white, her burning black eyesdry and tearless, was the young woman. And like a dead woman already, stretched on the bed, lay Zenith. 

But she was not dead. At the sound of the opening door, at the soundof his entrance, she opened her eyes, dulling fast in death, and fixedthem on Sir Jasper. 

"I knew you would come, " she said, in a husky whisper. "You dare notstay away! The spirit of the dying Zenith drove you here in spite ofyourself. Come nearer--nearer! Sir Jasper Kingsland, don't hoveraloof. Once you could never be near enough. Ah, I was young and fairthen! I'm old and ugly now. Come nearer, for I can not speak aloud, and listen. Do you know why I have sent for you?"

He had approached the bedside. She caught his hand and held it in avise-like clutch. 

"No, " he said, recoiling. 

"To give you my dying malediction--to curse you with my latest breath!I hate you, Sir Jasper Kingsland, falsest of all mankind! and if thedead can return and torment the living, then do you beware of me!"

She spoke in panting gasps, the death-rattle sounding in her skinnythroat. Shocked and scandalized, the rector interposed:

"My good woman, don't--for pity's sake, don't say such horrible things!"

But she never heeded him. 

"I hate you!" she said, with a last effort. "I die hating you, and Icurse you with a dying woman's curse! May your life be a life oftorment and misery and remorse! May your son's life be blighted andruined! May he become an outcast among men! May sin and shame followhim forever, and all of his abhorred race!"

Her voice died away. She glared helplessly up from the pillow. Adeep, stern, terrible "Amen!" came from her daughter's lips; then, witha spasm, she half leaped from the bed, and fell back with a gurglingcry--dead!

"She is gone!" said the rector, with a shudder. "Heaven have mercy onher sinful soul!"

The baronet staggered back from the bed. 

"I never saw a more horrible sight!" continued the Reverend Cyrus. "Inever heard such horrible words! No wonder it has unmanned you, SirJasper. Pray sit down and drink this. "

He held out a glass of water. Sir Jasper seized and drank it, hisbrain reeling. 

With stoical calm, Zara had arisen and closed the dead woman's eyes, folded the hands, straightened the stiffening limbs, and composed thehumble covering. She had no tears, she uttered no cry--her face wasstern as stone. 

"Better stay in this ghastly place no longer, Sir Jasper, " the rectorsuggested. "You look completely overcome. I will see that everythingis properly done. We will bury her to-morrow. "

As a man walks in a dreadful dream, Sir Jasper arose, quitted the room, mounted his horse, and rode away. 

One dark, menacing glance Zara shot after him; then she sat stonilydown by her dead. All that night, all next day, Zara kept her post, neither eating, nor drinking, nor sleeping. Dry and tearless, theburning black eyes fixed themselves on the dead face, and never left it. 

When they put the dead woman in the rude board coffin, she offered noresistance. Calmly she watched them screw the lid down--calmly she sawthem raise it on their shoulders and bear it away. Without a word ortear she arose, folded her cloak about her, and followed them to thechurch-yard. 

One by one the stragglers departed, and Zara was left alone by thenew-made grave. No, not quite alone, for through the bleak twilightfluttered the tall, dark figure of a man toward her. She lifted hergloomy eyes and recognized him. 

"You come, Sir Jasper, " she said, slowly, "to see the last of yourwork. You come to gloat over your dead victim, and exult that she isout of your way. But I tell you to beware! Zenith in her grave willbe a thousand times more terrible to you than Zenith ever was alive!"

The baronet looked at her with a darkly troubled face. 

"Why do you hate me so?" he said. "Whatever wrong I did her, I neverwronged you. "

"You have done me deadly wrong! My mother's wrongs are mine, and here, by her grave, I vow vengeance on you and yours! Her dying legacy to mewas her hatred of you, and I will pay the old debt with doubleinterest, my noble, haughty, titled father!"

She turned with the last words and sped away like an evil spirit, vanishing in the gloom among the graves. 

CHAPTER VI. 

TWO DYING BEQUESTS. 

This midsummer night was sultry and still. The darkness was like thedarkness of Egypt, lighted every now and then by a vivid Hash oflightning, from what quarter of the heavens no man knew. The inky skywas invisible--no breath of air stirred the terrible calm. Themidsummer night was full of dark and deadly menace. 

Hours ago a fierce and wrathful sunset had burned itself out on abrassy sky. The sun, a lurid ball of fire, had sunk in billows ofblood-red cloud, and pitch blackness had fallen upon earth and sky andsea. Everything above and below breathed of speedy tempest, but themidnight was drawing near, and the storm had not yet burst. 

And on this black June night Sir Jasper Kingsland lay on his statelybed, dying. 

The lofty chamber was but dimly lighted. It was a grand, vast room, paneled in black oak, hung with somber draperies, and carpeted in richdark Brussels. 

Three wax candles made white spots of light in the solemn gloom; awood-fire burned or rather smoldered, in the wide hearth, for the vastrooms were chilly even in midsummer; but neither fire-light norcandle-light could illumine the ghostly depths of the chamber. Shadowscrouched like evil things in the dusky corners, and round the bed, onlydarker shadows among the rest, knelt the dying man's family--wife anddaughter and son. And hovering aloof, with pale, anxious faces, stoodthe rector, the Reverend Cyrus Green, and Doctor Parker Godroy. 

The last hope was over, the last prayer had been said, the last faintbreaths uttered between the dying lips. With the tide going out on theshore below, the baronet's life was ebbing. 

"Olivia!"

Lady Kingsland, kneeling in tearless grief by her husband's side, bentover him to catch the faint whisper. 

"My dearest, I am here. What is it?"

"Where is Everard?"

Everard Kingsland, a fair-haired, blue-eyed, handsome boy, lifted hishead from the opposite side. It was a handsome, high-bred face--theancestral face of all the Kingslands--that of this twelve-year-old boy. 

"Here, papa!"

"My boy! my boy! whom I have loved so well--whom I have shielded sotenderly. My precious, only son, I must leave you at last!"

The boy stifled a sob as he bent and kissed the ice-cold face. Youngas he was, he had the gravity and self-repression of manhood already. 

"I have loved you better than my own life, " the faint, whispering voicewent on. "I would have died to save you an hour of pain. I have keptthe one secret of my life well--a secret that has blighted it beforeits time--but I can not face the dread unknown and bear my secret withme. On my death-bed I must tell all, and my darling boy must bear theblow. "

Everard Kingsland listened to his father's huskily murmured words inboyish wonderment. What secret was he talking of? He glanced acrossat his mother, and saw her pale cheeks suddenly flushed and her calmeyes kindling. 

"No living soul has ever heard from me what I must tell you to-night, my Everard--not even your mother. Do not leave me, Olivia. You, too, must know all that you may guard your son--that you may pity andforgive me. Perhaps I have erred in keeping any secret from you, butthe truth was too horrible to tell. There have been times when thethought of it nearly drove me mad. How, then, could I tell the wife Iloved--the son I idolized--this cruel and shameful thing?"

The youthful Everard looked simply bewildered--Lady Kingsland excited, expectant, flushed. 

She gently wiped the clammy brow and held a reviving cordial to thelivid lips. 

"My dearest, do not agitate yourself, " she said. "We will listen toall you have to say, and love you none the less, let it be what itwill. "

"My own dear wife! half the secret you know already. You remember theastrologer--the prediction?"

"Surely. You have never been the same man since that fatal night. Itis of the prediction you would speak?"

"It is. I must tell my son. I must warn him of the unutterable horrorto come. Oh, my boy! my boy! what will become of you when you learnyour horrible doom?"

"Papa, " the lad said, softly, but growing very white, "I don'tunderstand--what horror? what doom? Tell me, and see how I will bearit. I am a Kingsland, you know, and the son of a daring race. "

"That is my brave boy! Send them out of the room, Olivia--priest, doctor, Mildred, and all--then come close to me, close, close, for myvoice is failing--and listen. "

Lady Kingsland arose--fair and stately still as twelve years before, and eminently self-sustained in this trying hour. In half a minute shehad turned out rector, physician, and daughter, and knelt again by thatbed of death. 

"The first part of my story, Olivia, " began the dying man, "belongs toyou. Years before I knew you, when I was a young, hot-headed, rashlyimpulsive boy, traveling in Spain, I fell in with a gang of wanderinggypsies. I had been robbed and wounded by mountain brigands; thosegypsies found me, took me to their tents, cared for me, cured me. Butlong after I was well I lingered with them, for the fairest thing thesun shone on was my black-eyed nurse, Zenith. We were both so youngand so fiery-blooded, so--Ah! what need to go over the old, oldgrounds? There was one hour of mad, brief bliss, parting andforgetfulness. I forgot. Life was a long, idle summer holiday to me. But she never forgot--never forgave! You remember the woman, Olivia, who burst into the church on the day of our boy's christening--thewoman who died in the sexton's house? That woman was Zenith--old andwithered, and maddened by her wrongs--that woman who died cursing meand mine. A girl, dark and fierce, and terrible as herself, stood byher to the last, lingered at her grave to vow deathless revenge--herdaughter and mine!"

The faint voice ceased an instant. The fluttering spirit rallied, andresumed:

"I have reason to know that daughter was married. I have reason toknow she had a child--whether boy or girl I can not tell. To thatchild the inheritance of hatred and revenge will fall; that child, someinward prescience tells me, will wreak deep and awful vengeance for thepast. Beware of the grandchild of Zenith, the gypsy--beware, Olivia, for yourself and your son!"

"Is this all?" Olivia said, in a constrained, hard voice. 

"All I have to say to you--the rest is for Everard. My son, on thenight of your birth an Eastern astrologer came to this house and castyour horoscope. He gave that horoscope to me at day-dawn and departed, and from that hour to this I have neither seen nor heard of him. Before reading your future in the stars he looked into my palm and toldme the past--told me the story of Zenith and her wrongs--told me whatno one under heaven but myself knew. My boy, the revelation of thatnight has blighted my life--broken my heart! The unutterable horror ofyour future has brought my gray hairs to the grave. Oh, my son! whatwill become of you when I am gone?"

"What was it, papa?" the lad asked. "What has the future in store forme?"

A convulsive spasm distorted the livid face; the eye-balls rolled, thedeath-rattle sounded. With a smothered cry of terror Lady Kingslandlifted the agonized head in her arms. 

"Quick, Jasper--the horoscope! Where?"

"My safe--study--secret spring--at back! Oh, God, have mercy--"

The clock struck sharply--twelve. A vivid blaze of lambent lightninglighted the room; the awful death-rattle sounded once more. 

"Beware of Zenith's grandchild!"

He spoke the words aloud, clear and distinct, and never spoke again. 

 * * * * * *

Many miles away from Kingsland Court, that same sultry, oppressivemidsummer night a little third-rate theater on the Surrey side ofLondon was crowded to overflowing. There was a grand spectaculardrama, full of transformation scenes, fairies, demons, spirits of air, fire, and water; a brazen orchestra blowing forth, and steam, andorange-peel, and suffocation generally. 

Foremost among all the fairies and nymphs, noted for the shortness ofher filmy skirts, the supple beauty of her shapely limbs, herincomparable dancing, and her dark, bright beauty, flashed La Sylphinebefore the foot-lights. 

The best _danseuse_ in the kingdom, and the prettiest, and investedwith a magic halo of romance, La Sylphine shone like a meteor amonglesser stars, and brought down thunders of applause every time sheappeared. 

The little feet twinkled and flashed; the long, dark waves of hairfloated in a shining banner behind her to the tiny waist; the pale, upraised face--the eyes ablaze like black stars! Oh, surely LaSylphine was the loveliest thing, that hot June night, the gas-lightshone on!

The fairy spectacle was over--the green drop-curtain fell. La Sylphinehad smiled and dipped and kissed hands to thundering bravos for thelast time that night, and now, behind the scenes, was rapidlyexchanging the spangles and gossamer of fairydom for the shabby andfaded merino shawl and dingy straw hat of every-day life. 

"You danced better than ever to-night, Miss Monti, " a tall demon intail and horns said, sauntering up to her. "Them there pretty feet ofyour'n will make your fortune yet, and beat Fanny Ellsler!"

"Not to mention her pretty face, " said a brother fiend, removing hismask. "Her fortune's made already, if she's a mind to take it. There's a gay young city swell a-waiting at the wings to see you home, Miss Monti. "

"Is it Maynard, the banker's son?" she asked. 

The second demon nodded. 

"Then I must escape by the side entrance. When he gets tired waiting, Mr. Smithers, give him La Sylphine's compliments, and let him go. "

She glided past the demons down a dark and winding staircase, and outinto the noisy, lighted street. 

The girl paused an instant under a street-lamp--she was only agirl--fifteen or sixteen at most, though very tall, with a bright, fearless look--then drawing her shawl closely round her, she flittedrapidly away. 

The innumerable city clocks tolled heavily--eleven. The night waspitch-dark; the sheet-lightning blazed across the blackness, and nowand then a big drop fell. Still the girl sped on until she reached herdestination. 

It was the poorest and vilest quarter of the great city--among reekingsmells, and horrible sounds, and disgusting sights. The house sheentered was tottering to decay--a dreadful den by day and by night, thronged with the very scum of the London streets. Up and up a longstair-way she flew, paused at a door on the third landing, opened it, and went in. 

It was a miserable room--all one could have expected from the streetand the house. There was a black grate, one or two broken chairs, abattered table, and a wretched bed in the corner. On the bed awoman--the ghastly skeleton of a woman--lay dying. 

The entrance of La Sylphine aroused the woman from the stupor intowhich she had fallen. She opened her spectral eyes and looked eagerlyaround. 

"My Sunbeam! is it thou?"

"It is I, mother--at last. I could come no sooner. The ballet wasvery long to-night. "

"And my Sunbeam was bravoed, and encored, and crowned with flowers, wasshe not?"

"Yes, mother; but never mind that. How are you tonight?"

"Dying, my own. "

The _danseuse_ fell on her knees with a shrill, sharp cry. 

"No, mother--no, no! Not dying! Very ill, very weak, very low, butnot dying. Oh, not dying!"

"Dying, my daughter!" the sick woman said. "I count my life by minutesnow; I heard the city clocks strike eleven; I counted the strokes, for, my Sunbeam, it is the last hour thy mother will ever hear on earth. "

The ballet-dancer covered her face, with a low, despairing cry. Thedying mother, with a painful effort, lifted her own skeleton hand andremoved those of the girl. 

"Weep not, but listen, _carissima_. I have much to say to thee beforeI go; I feared to die before you came; and even in my grave I could notrest with the words I must say unsaid. I have a legacy to leave thee, my daughter. "

"A legacy?"

The girl opened her great black eyes in wide surprise. 

"Even so. Not of lands, or houses, or gold, or honors, but something athousand-fold greater--an inheritance of hatred and revenge!"

"My mother!"

"Listen to me, my daughter, and my dying malediction be upon thee ifthou fulfillest not the trust. Thou hast heard the name of Kingsland?"

"Ay, often; from my father ere he died--from thee, since. Was it nothis last command to me--this hatred of their evil race? Did I notpromise him on his death-bed, four years ago? Does my mother think Iforget?"

"That is my brave daughter. You know the cruel story of treachery andwrong done thy grandmother, Zenith--you know the prediction your fathermade to my father, Sir Jasper Kingsland, on the night of his son'sbirth. Be it thine, my brave daughter, to see that predictionfulfilled. "

"You ask a terrible thing, my mother, " she said, slowly; but I canrefuse you nothing, and I abhor them all. I promise--the predictionshall be fulfilled!"

"My own! my own! That son is a boy of twelve now--be it yours to findhim, and work the retribution of the gods. Your grandmother, yourfather, your mother, look to you from their graves for vengeance. Woeto you if you fail!"

"I shall not fail!" the girl said, solemnly. "I can die, but I can notbreak a promise. Vengeance shall fall, fierce and terrible, upon theheir of Kingsland, and mine shall be the hand to inflict it. I swearit by your death-bed, mother, and I will keep my oath!"

The mother pressed her hand. The film of death was in her eyes. Shestrove to speak; there was a quick, dreadful convulsion, then an awfulcalm. 

Within the same hour, with miles between them, Sir Jasper Kingsland andZara, his outcast daughter, died. 

 * * * * * *

The dawn of another day crept silently over the Devon hill-tops as LadyKingsland arose from her husband's deathbed. 

White, and stark, and rigid, the late lord of Kingsland Court lay inthe awful majesty of death. 

The doctor, the rector, the nurse, sat, pale and somber watchers, inthe death-room. More than an hour before the youthful baronet had beensent to his room, worn out with his night's watching. 

It was the Reverend Cyrus Green who urged my lady now to follow him. 

"You look utterly exhausted, my dear Lady Kingsland, " he said. "Prayretire and endeavor to sleep. You are not able to endure such fatigue. "

"I am worn out, " she said. "I believe I will lie down, but I feel asthough I should never sleep again. "

She quitted the room, but not to seek her own. Outside thedeath-chamber she paused an instant, and her face lighted suddenly. 

"Now is my time, " she said, under her breath. "A few hours more and itmay be too late. His safe, he said--the secret spring!"

She flitted away, pallid and guilty looking, into Sir Jasper's study. It was deserted, of course, and there in the corner stood the grim ironsafe. 

"Now for the secrets of the dead! No fortune-telling jugglery shallblight my darling boy's life while I can help it. He is assuperstitious as his father. "

With considerable difficulty she opened the safe, pulled forth drawerafter drawer, until the grim iron back was exposed. 

"The secret spring is here, " she muttered. "Surely, surely, I can findit. "

For many minutes she searched in vain; then her glance fell on a tinysteel knob inserted in a corner. She pressed this with all her might, confident of success. 

Nor was she deceived; the knob moved, the iron slid slowly back, disclosing a tiny hidden drawer. 

Lady Kingsland barely repressed a cry as she saw the paper, and by itsside something wrapped in silver tissue. Greedily she snatched bothout, pressed back the knob, locked the safe, stole out of the study andup to her own room. 

Panting with her haste, my lady sunk into a seat, with her treasureseagerly clutched. A moment recovered her; then she took up the littleparcel wrapped in the silver paper. 

"He said nothing of this, " she thought. "What can it be?"

She tore off the wrapping. As it fell to the floor, a long tress ofsilky black hair fell with it, and she held in her hand a miniaturepainted on ivory. A girlish face of exquisite beauty, dusky as theface of an Indian queen, looked up at her, fresh and bright as thirtyyears before. No need to look at the words on the reverse--"Mypeerless Zenith"--to know who it was; the wife's jealousy told her atthe first glance. 

"And all these years he has kept this, " she said, between her setteeth, "while he pretended he loved only me! 'My peerless Zenith!'Yes, she is beautiful as the fabled houris of the Mussulman's paradise. Well, I will keep it in my turn. Who knows what end it may serve yet?"

She picked up the tress of hair, and enveloped all in the silver paperonce more. Then she lifted the folded document, and looked darkly atthe superscription:

 "Horoscope of the Heir of Kingsland. "

"Which the heir of Kingsland shall never see, " she said, grimlyunfolding it. "Now for this mighty secret. "

She just glanced at the mystic symbols, the cabalistic signs andfigures, and turned to the other side. There, beautifully written, inlong, clear letters, she saw her son's fate. 

The morning wore on--noon came; the house was as still as a tomb. Rosine, my lady's maid, with a cup of tea, ventured to tap at herladyship's door. There was no response. 

"She sleeps, " thought Rosine, and turned the handle. 

But at the threshold she paused in wild alarm. No, my lady did notsleep. She sat in her chair, upright and ghastly as a galvanizedcorpse, a written paper closely clutched in her hand, and a look ofwhite horror frozen on her face. 

CHAPTER VII. 

AFTER TEN YEARS. 

"I have said it, and I mean it; they ought to know me well enough bythis time, Godsoe. I'd transport every man of them, the poachingscoundrels, if I could! Tell that villain Dick Darkly that the firsttime I catch him at his old tricks he shall follow the brother he makessuch a howling about, and share his fate. "

Sir Everard Kingsland was the speaker. He stood with one hand, whiteand shapely as a lady's, resting on the glossy neck of his bay horse, his fair, handsome face, flushed with anger, turned upon his gamekeeper. 

Peter Godsoe, the sturdy gamekeeper, standing before his young master, hat in hand, looked up deprecatingly. 

"He takes it very hard, Sir Everard, that you sent his brother toWorrel Jail. His missis was sick, and two of the children had themeasles, and Will Darkly he'd been out o' work, and they was poor aspoor. So he turns to and snares the rabbits, and--"

"Godsoe, are you trying to excuse this convicted poacher? Is that whatyou stopped me here to say?"

"I beg your pardon, Sir Everard; I only wanted to warn you--to put youon your guard--"

"To warn me--to put me on my guard? What do you mean? Has thatvillainous poacher dared to threaten me?"

"Not in my hearing, sir; but others say so. And he's a dark, vindictive brute; and he swore a solemn oath, they say, when hisbrother went to Worrel Jail, to be revenged upon you. And so, SirEverard, begging your pardon for the freedom, I thought as how you waslikely to be out late to-night, coming home from my lord's, and asBrithlow Wood is lonesome and dark--"

"That will do, Godsoe!" the young baronet interrupted, haughtily. "Youmean well, I dare say, and I overlook your presumption this time; butnever proffer advice to me again. As for Darkly, he had better keepout of my way. I'll horsewhip him the first time I see him, and sendhim to make acquaintance with the horse-pond afterward. "

He vaulted lightly into the saddle as he spoke. 

The brawny gamekeeper stood gazing after him as he ambled down theleafy avenue. 

"His father's son, " he said; "the proudest gentleman in Devonshire, andthe most headstrong. You'll horsewhip Dick Darkly, Sir Everard! Why, he could take you with one hand by the waist-band, and lay you low inthe kennel any day he liked! And he'll do it, too!" muttered Godsoe, turning slowly away. "You won't be warned, and you won't takeprecaution, and you won't condescend to be afeard, and you'll come togrief afore you know it. "

The misty autumn twilight lay like a veil of silver blue over thepeaceful English landscape; a cool breeze swept up from the sea overthe golden downs and distant hills, and as Sir Everard rode alongthrough the village, the cloud left his face, and a tender, dreamy lookcame in its place. 

"She will be present, of course, " he thought. "I wonder if I shallfind her as I left her last? She is not the kind that play fast andloose, my stately, uplifted Lady Louise. How queenly she looked at thereception last night in those velvet robes and the Carteretdiamonds!--'queen rose of the rose-bud garden of girls. ' She is myelder by three round years at least, but she is stately as a princess, and at twenty-five preserves the ripe bloom of eighteen. She is allthat is gracious when we meet, and my mother has set her heart upon thematch. I have half a mind to propose this very night. "

She was an earl's daughter, this stately Lady Louise, but so veryimpoverished an earl that the young Devonshire baronet, with hisancient name and his long rent-roll, was a most desirably brilliantmatch. 

She was down on a visit to her brother, Lord Carteret, and had made adead set at Sir Everard Kingsland from the hour she had met him first. He was on his way to Lord Carteret's now. There was a dinner-party, and he was an honored guest; and Lady Louise was brilliant, in thefamily diamonds and old point lace, once more. 

She was in the drawing-room when he entered--her stately head regallyuplifted in the midst of a group of less magnificent demoiselles--astatuesque blonde, with abundant ringlets of flaxen lightness, eyes ofturquoise blue, and a determined mouth and chin. 

Sir Everard paid his respects to his host and hostess, and sought herside at once. 

"Almost late, " she said, with a brilliant, welcoming smile, giving himher dainty little hand; "and George Grosvenor has been looking thisway, and pulling his mustache and blushing redder than the carnationsin his button-hole. He wants to take me in to dinner, poor fellow, andhe hasn't the courage to do it. "

"With your kind permission, Lady Louise, I will save him the trouble, "answered Sir Everard Kingsland. "Grosvenor is not singular in hiswish, but I never gave him credit for so much good taste before. "

"Mr. Grosvenor is more at home in the hunting-field than thedrawing-room, I fancy. Apropos, Sir Everard, I ride to the meetto-morrow. Of course you will be present on your 'bonny bay' todisplay your prowess?"

"Of course--a fox-hunt is to me a foretaste of celestial bliss. With afirst-rate horse, a crack pack of hounds, a 'good scent, ' and a finemorning, a man is tempted to wish life could last forever. And you areonly going to ride to the meet, then, Lady Louise?"

"Yes; I never followed the hounds, I don't know the country and I can'tride to points. Besides, I am not really Amazonian enough to fancy ascamper across the country, flying fences and risking my precious neck. "

"I must own that, to me, a lady never looks less attractive than in ahunting-field, among yelping hounds, and shouts, and cheers, and cordsand tops, and scarlet coats. "

"That comes of being a poet and an artist; and Sir Everard Kingsland isaccused of being both. You want to fancy us all angels, and you cannot reconcile an angelic being with a side-saddle and a hard gallop. Now, I don't own to being anything in the Di Vernon line myself, and Idon't wish to be; but I do think a pretty girl never looks half sopretty as when well mounted. You should have seen Harrie Hunsden, as Isaw her the other day, and you would surely recant your heresy aboutladies and horse-flesh. "

"Is Harrie Hunsden a lady?"

"Certainly. Don't you know her? She is Captain Hunsden's onlydaughter--Hunsden, of Hunsden Hall, one of your oldest Devon families. You'll find them duly chronicled in Burke and Debrett. Miss Hunsden isscarcely eighteen, but she has been over the world--from Quebec toGibraltar--from Halifax to Calcutta. Two years of her life she passedat a New York boarding-school, of which city her mother was a native. "

"Indeed!" Sir Everard said, just lifting his eyebrows. "And MissHunsden rides well?"

"Like Di Vernon's self. "

"Is your Miss Hunsden pretty? and shall we see her at the meetto-morrow?"

"Yes to both questions; and more than at the meet, I fancy. She andher thorough-bred, Whirlwind, will lead you all. Her scarlet habit and'red roan steed' are as well known in the country as the duke's hounds, and her bright eyes and dashing style have taken by storm the hearts ofhalf the fox-hunting squires of Devonshire. "

She laughed a little maliciously. Truth to tell, not being quite surethat her game was safely wired, and dreading this Amazonian MissHunsden as a prospective rival, she was nothing loath to prejudice thefastidious young baronet beforehand, even while seeming to praise her. 

"I am surprised that you have not heard of her, " she said. "SirHarcourt Helford and Mr. Cholmondeley actually fought a duel about her, and it ended in her telling them to their faces they were a pair ofidiots, and flatly refusing both. 'The Hunsden' is the toast of thecountry. "

Sir Everard shuddered. 

"From all such the gods deliver us! You honor Miss Hunsden with yourdeepest interest, I think, Lady Louise?

"Yes, she is such an oddity. Her wandering life, I presume, accountsfor it; but she is altogether unlike any girl I ever know. I amcertain, " with a little malicious glance, "she will be your style, SirEverard. "

"And as I don't in the least know what my style is, perhaps you may beright. "

Lady Louise bit her lip--it was a rebuff, she fancied, for herdetraction. And then Lady Carteret gave that mysterious signal, andthe ladies rose and swept away in billows of silk to the drawing-room, and the gentlemen had the talk to themselves "across the walnuts andthe wine. "

To one gentleman present the interim before rejoining the ladies wasunmitigatedly dull, even though the talk ran on his favoritetopics---horse-flesh and hunting. He was in love, he thoughtcomplacently, and Lady Louise's eyes had sparkled to-day and her smileshad flashed their bewildering brightness upon him more radiantly thanever before. 

"How pleased my mother will be!" Sir Everard thought. "I will ask LadyLouise this very night. An earl's daughter--though a bankrupt--is afitting mate for a Kingsland. "

Lady Louise sat at the piano, the soft light falling full on her pale, statuesque face, and making an aureole around her fair, shapely head. 

Sir Everard Kingsland crossed over and stood beside her, and Lord andLady Carteret exchanged significant glances, and smiled. 

It was a very desirable thing, indeed; they had brought Louise down forno other earthly reason; and Louise was playing her cards, and playingthem well. 

If Sir Everard had one taste stronger than another it was his taste formusic, and Lady Louise held him spell-bound now. She played, and herfingers seemed inspired; she sung, and few non-professionals sung likethat. 

The chain of brittle glass that bound the captive beside her grewstronger. A wife who could bewitch the hours away with such music asthis would be no undesirable possession for a _blasé_ man. He stoopedover her as she arose from the piano at last. 

"Come out on the balcony, " he said. "The night is lovely, and the goodpeople yonder are altogether engrossed in their cards and theirsmall-talk. "

Without a word she stepped with him from the open French window outinto the starlit night. 

What is it that Byron says about solitude, and moonlight, and youth? Adangerous combination, truly; and so Sir Everard Kingsland found, standing side by side with this pale daughter of a hundred earls. Butthe irrevocable words were not destined to be spoken, for just thenGeorge Grosvenor, goaded to jealous desperation, stalked out throughthe open casement and joined them. 

The midnight moon was sailing up to the zenith as Sir Everard rodehome. His road was a lonely one through Brithlow Wood, which shortenedhis journey by over a mile; but his thoughts were pleasant ones, and hehummed, as he rode, the songs Lady Louise had sung. 

"Confound that muff, Grosvenor!" he thought. "If it had not been forhis impertinent intrusion, the matter would have been safely settled bythis time--and settled pleasantly too, I take it; for, without being aconceited noodle, I really think Lady Louise will say yes. Ah! what'sthis?"

For out of the starlit darkness, from among the trees, started up agiant black figure, and his horse was grasped by the bridle and hurledback upon his haunches. 

"You villain, " the young man dauntlessly cried, "let go my bridle-rein!Who are you? What do you want?"

"I'm Dick Darkly, " answered a deep, gruff voice, "and I want yourheart's blood!"

"You poaching scoundrel!" exclaimed Sir Everard, quick as lightningraising his riding-whip and slashing the aggressor across the face. "Let go my horse's head. "

With a cry that was like the roar of a wild beast the man sprung hack. The next instant, with a horrible oath, he had seized the young man andtorn him out of the saddle. 

"I'll tear you limb from limb for that blow, by heavens!" Dick Darklyshouted. "If I hadn't meant to kill you before, I would kill you forthat cut of your whip. I've waited for you, Sir Everard Kingsland! Iswore revenge, and revenge I'll have! I'll kill you this night, ifthey hang me for it to-morrow!"

He held his victim in a grip of iron, from which he struggled madly toget free, while the horse, with a shrill neigh of terror, started offriderless. 

"I swore I'd kill you, Sir Everard Kingsland, " Dick Darkly growled, "when you put my poor brother in Worrel Jail for snaring the miserablerabbits to keep his sick wife and children from starving. I swore it, and I'll keep my oath. You told your gamekeeper this very day youwould lash me like a dog, and duck me after. Aha, Sir Everard!Where's the horse-whip and the horse-pond now?"

"Here!" shouted the young baronet; and with a mighty effort he freedhis arms, and raising the whip, slashed Dick Darkly for the second timeacross the face. "You murdering villain, you shall swing for this!"

With a blind roar of pain and rage, the murderer closed with hisvictim. They grappled, and rolled over and over in each other's arms. 

Panting and speechless, the death-struggle went on; but Sir Everard wasno match for the burly giant. With a savage cry, the huge poacherthrust his hand into his belt, and a long, blue-bladed knife gleamed inthe moon's rays. 

"At last!" he panted. "I'll have your heart's blood, as I swore I'dhave it!"

He lifted the knife. Sir Everard Kingsland tried to gasp one lastbrief prayer in that supreme moment. 

"Help!" he cried, with a last wild struggle--"help! help! murder!"

There was a rustling in the trees and some one sprung out. The lastword was lost in the sharp report of a pistol, and with a scream ofagony, Dick Darkly dropped his knife and fell backward on the grass. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

A MYSTERIOUS YOUNG MAN. 

The baronet leaped to his feet, and stood face to face with hispreserver. The giant trees, towering up until they seemed to piercethe sky, half shut out the moonlight, but yet Sir Everard could seethat it was a slender stripling who stood before him, a slouched hatpulled far over his eyes. 

"I owe you my life, " he cried, grasping the youth's hand. "An instantlater, and I would have been in eternity. How shall I ever thank you?"

"Don't make the attempt, " replied the lad, coolly. "It was the merestchance-work in the world that sent me here to-night. "

"Don't call it chance, my boy. It was Providence sent you to save alife. "

"Providence may have wished to save your life, and was not particularas to the means. Let us look to this fellow. I hope my shot has notkilled him outright. "

They both stooped over the fallen giant. Dick Darkly lay on his face, groaning dismally, the blood pumping from his chest with every breath. 

"It's an ugly-looking hole, " said Sir Everard. "Two inches lower, andit would have gone straight through his heart. As it is, it will put astop to his assassinating proclivities for awhile, I fancy. Lie still, you matchless scoundrel, while I try and stop this flow of blood. "

He knelt beside the groaning man and endeavored to stanch the redgushing with his handkerchief. The youth stood by, gazing calmly on. 

"What do you mean to do with him?" he asked. 

"Send some of my people to take him to his home, and as soon as he issufficiently recovered to stand his trial for attempted murder--"

"For God's sake, Sir Everard!" faintly moaned the wounded man. 

"Ah, you audacious villain, you can supplicate now! If I let you offthis time, my life would not be worth an hour's purchase. "

"What did he call you?" asked the boy, with sudden, sharp anxiety inhis tone. "Whose life have I saved?"

"I am Sir Everard Kingsland, of Kingsland Court, " the baronet answered. "And you are--who?"

"Sir Everard Kingsland! And I have saved your life!"

"For which Heaven be praised! It is a very pleasant world, this, and Ihave no desire just yet to leave it. Pray tell me the name of mypreserver!"

"Never mind my name; it is of no consequence who I am. I have a longjourney before me; I am very weary and footsore, and it is time I wason my way. "

"Weary and footsore?" repeated the baronet. "Nay--then all the moreneed we should not part. Come home with me and rest--to-night, atleast. I owe you a heavy debt, and I should like to pay a little ofit. "

"You owe me nothing!" His eyes gleamed under his hat and his teethclinched as he spoke. "Nothing, Sir Everard Kingsland! Let us saygood-bye. I must reach Worrel by sunrise. "

"And so you shall. The fleetest steed in my stables shall carry you. But come to Kingsland and rest for the night. If you will not acceptmy thanks, accept at least the shelter of my roof. "

The boy seemed to hesitate. 

The baronet look advantage of that momentary hesitation and drew hisarm through his own. There was not a prouder man in wide England, butthis unknown lad had saved his life, and Sir Everard was onlytwo-and-twenty, and full of generous impulses. 

"Come, " he said, "don't be obstinate. You own to being footsore andweary. Kingsland is very near, and a night's rest will do you good. "

"Thanks! I accept your kind hospitality, Sir Everard, on twoconditions. "

"On any conditions you choose, _mon ami_. What are they?"

"That no one shall know it but yourself, and that I may depart beforeday-dawn. "

"I dislike that last condition very much; but it must be as you say. Sleep in safety, most mysterious youth; no one shall know you are undermy roof, and I will come and wake you myself at the first peep of day. Will that do?"

"Admirably. You are very kind to take all this trouble for a namelesstramp, Sir Everard. "

"Am I? Even when the nameless tramp saved my life?"--yet Sir Everardwinced a little while saying it. "And that reminds me, we must hasten, if yonder fallen villain is to recover from his wound. His conditionis not an enviable one at this moment. "

"How did it happen?" the boy asked. 

And the young baronet repeated the story of Dick Darkly's provocationand vow of revenge. 

As he concluded they passed through the stately gates, up the majesticsweep of drive, to the imposing old mansion. 

"Home!" Sir Everard said, gayly. "Solitude and darkness reign, yousee. The family have long since retired, and we can pass to ourrespective dormitories unseen and unheard. "

The boy looked up with his brilliant, glowing eyes. But he did notspeak. In silence he followed Sir Everard in, up the noble marblestair-way, along richly carpeted, softly lighted corridors, and into astately chamber. 

"You will sleep here, " Sir Everard said. "My room is near, and I am alight sleeper. To-morrow morning at five I will rouse you. Until thenadieu, and pleasant dreams. "

He swung out and closed the door, and not once had he seen the face ofhis guest. That guest stood in the center of the handsome chamber, andgazed around. 

"At last!" he hisses between his set white teeth--"at last, after twoyears' weary waiting! At last, oh! my mother, the time has come for meto keep my vow!"

He raised one arm with a tragic gesture, removed the slouched hat, andstood uncovered in the tranquil half light. 

The face was wonderfully handsome, of gypsy darkness, and the eyesshone like black stars; but a scarlet handkerchief was bound tightlyaround his head, and concealed every vestige of hair. With a slowsmile creeping round his mouth, the boy took his handkerchief off. 

"To-morrow he will come and call me, but to-morrow I shall not leaveKingsland Court. No, my dear young baronet, I have not saved your lifefor nothing! I shall have the honor of remaining your guest for sometime. "

CHAPTER IX. 

MISS SYBILLA SILVER

Meantime Sir Everard had aroused his valet and a brace of tall footmen, and dispatched them to the aid of the wounded man in the wood. Andthen he sought his own chamber, and, after an hour or two of aimlesstossing, dropped into an uneasy sleep. 

And sleeping, Sir Everard had a singular dream. He was walking throughBrithlow Wood with Lady Louise on his arm, the moonlight siftingthrough the tall trees as he had seen it last. Suddenly, with a rustleand a hiss, a huge green serpent glided out, reared itself up, andglared at them with eyes of deadly menace. And somehow, though he hadnot yet seen the lad's face, he knew the hissing serpent and thepreserver of his life were one and the same. With horrible hisses themonster encircled him. Its fetid breath was in his face, its deadlyfangs ready to strike his death-blow, and, with a suffocating cry, SirEverard a-woke from his nightmare and started up in bed. 

"Good heavens! such a night of horrors, waking and sleeping! A mostungrateful dream, truly! It is time I awoke my unknown preserver. "

The mysterious youth lay fast asleep upon the bed, dressed as he hadleft him, with the exception of the slouched hat and the red cottonhandkerchief. They lay on the carpet; and over the pillows, and overthe coarse velveteen jacket streamed such a wealth of blue-black hairas the baronet in all his life never before beheld. 

"Powers above!" Sir Everard gasped, in his utter amaze, "what can thismean?"

He advanced with bated breath, bent over and gazed at the sleeper'sface. One look, and his flashing first suspicion was a certainty. This dark, youthful, faultlessly beautiful face was a woman's face. Agirl in velveteen shooting-jacket and pantaloons, handsome as somedusky Indian princess, lay asleep before him. 

Sir Everard Kingsland, in the last stage of bewilderment and amaze, retreated precipitately and shut the door. 

The instant the chamber door closed the mysterious young man raisedhimself on his elbow, very wide awake, his handsome face lighted with atriumphant smile. 

"So, " he said, "step the second has been taken, and Sir Everard hasdiscovered the sex of his preserver. As he is too delicate to disturba slumbering lady in disguise, the slumbering lady must disturb him!"

He--or rather she--leaped lightly off the bed, picked up the scarletbandanna, twisted scientifically the abundant black hair, bound it upwith the handkerchief, and crushed down over all the slouched hat. Then, with the handsome face overshadowed, and all expression screwedout of it, she opened the door, and saw, as she expected, the youngbaronet in the passage. 

He stopped at once at sight of her. He had been walking up and down, with an exceedingly surprised and perplexed face; and now he stood withhis great, Saxon-blue eyes piercingly fixed upon the young person invelveteen, whose jacket and trousers told one story, and whosestreaming dark hair told quite another. 

"It is past sunrise, Sir Everard, " his preserver began, with areproachful glance, "and you have broken your promise. You said youwould awake me. "

"I beg your pardon, " retorted Sir Everard, quietly; "I have broken nopromise. I came to your room ten minutes ago to arouse you, as I saidI would. I knocked thrice, and received no reply. Then I entered. You must excuse me for doing so. How was I to know I was entertainingangels unaware?"

With a low cry of consternation his hearer's hands flew up and coveredhis face, to hide the blushes that were not there. 

"Your red handkerchief and hat do you good service in your masquerade, mademoiselle. I confess I should never suspect a lady in that suit ofvelveteen. "

With a sudden theatrical abandon the "lady in velveteen" flung herselfon her knees at his feet. 

"Forgive me!" she cried, holding up her clasped hands. "Have pity onme! Don't reveal my secret, for Heaven's sake. "

"Forgive you!" repeated Sir Everard, hastily. "What have I to forgive?Pray get up; there is no reason you should kneel and supplicate pityfrom me. "

He raised her imperatively. Her head dropped in womanly confusion, and, hiding her face, she sobbed. 

"What must you think? How dreadful it must look! But, oh, SirEverard! if you only knew!"

"I should like to know, I confess. Come here in this window recess andtell me, won't you? Come, look up, and don't cry so. Tell me who youare. "

"I am Sybilla Silver, and I have run away from home, and I will diesooner than ever go back!"

She looked up with a passionate outbreak, and Sir Everard saw thesplendor of a pair of flashing Spanish eyes. 

"I shall not send you back, depend upon it. Why did you run away, MissSilver?"

"Do you really wish to know?" she asked. "Oh, Sir Everard Kingsland, will you indeed be my friend?"

"Your true and faithful friend, my poor girl!" he answered, moved bythe piteous appeal. "Surely I could hardly be less to one who sobravely saved my life. "

"Ah! that was nothing. I lay no claim on that. Serve me as you wouldserve any friendless girl in distress; and you are brave and generousand noble, I know. "

"You 'do me proud, ' mademoiselle. Suppose you cease complimenting, andbegin at the beginning. Who are your friends, and why did you leavethem, and where have you run away from?"

"From Yorkshire, Sir Everard--yes, all the way from Yorkshire in thisdisguise. Ah! it seems very bold and unwomanly, does it not? But myuncle was such a tyrant, and I had no appeal. I am an orphan, SirEverard. My father and mother have been dead since my earliestrecollection, and this uncle, my sole earthly relative, has been myguardian and tormentor. I can not tell you how cruelly he has treatedme. I have been immured in a desolate old country-house, withoutfriends or companions of my own age or sex, and left to drag on auseless and aimless life. My poor father left me a scant inheritance;but, such as it is, my uncle set his greedy heart upon adding it to hisown. To do this, he determined upon marrying me to his only son. Mycousin William was his father over again--meaner, more cruel and craftyand cold-blooded, if possible--and utterly abhorred by me. I wouldsooner have died ten thousand deaths than marry such a sordid, hatefulwretch! But marry him I surely must have done, if I remained in theirpower. So I fled. With inconceivable trouble and maneuvering. Iobtained this suit of clothes. If I fled undisguised, I knew I wouldcertainly be pursued, overtaken, and brought back. In the dead ofnight I opened my chamber window and made my escape. I took a loadedpistol of my uncle's with me; I knew how to use it, and I felt safewith such a protector. My old nurse lived in Plymouth with herdaughter, and to her I meant to go. I had a little money with me, andmade good my escape. My disguise saved me from suspicion and insult. Last night, on my way to Worrel, I heard your cry for help, and mypistol stood me in good stead, for the first time. There, Sir Everard, you know all. I hate and despise myself for the dress I wear, butsurely there is some excuse to be made for me. "

The Spanish eyes, swimming in tears, were raised imploringly to his, and Sir Everard was two-and-twenty, and very susceptible to a beautifulwoman's tears. 

"Very much excuse, my poor girl, " he said, warmly. "I am the last onearth to blame you for flying from a detested marriage. But there isno need to wear this disguise longer, surely?"

"No; no need. But I have had no opportunity of changing it; and if Ido not succeed in finding my nurse at Plymouth, I don't know what willbecome of me. "

"Have you not her address?"

"No; neither have I heard from her in a long, long time. She lived inPlymouth years ago with her married daughter, but we nevercorresponded; and whether she is there now, or whether indeed she isliving at all, I do not know. I caught at the hope as the drowningcatch at straws. "

Sir Everard looked at her in that thoughtful pause. How beautiful shewas in her dark, glowing girlhood--how friendless, how desolate in theworld. 

"It would be the wildest of wild-goose chases, then, " he said, "knowingas little of your nurse's whereabouts as you do, to seek her inPlymouth now. Write first, or advertise in the local journals. If sheis still resident there, that will fetch her. "

"Write! advertise!" Sybilla Silver repeated, with unspeakablemournfulness; "from whence, Sir Everard?"

"From here, " answered the baronet, decidedly. "You shall not leavehere until you find your friends. And you shall not wear this odiousdisguise an hour longer. Go back to your chamber and wait. "

"What an egregious muff he is!" she said to herself, contemptuously. "There is no cleverness in fooling such an imbecile as that. I amgoing on velvet so far; I only hope my lady may be as easily dealt withas my lady's only son. "

My lady's only son went straight to a door down the corridor, quite atthe other extremity, and opened it. 

It was a lady's dressing-room evidently. Laid out, all ready for wear, was a lady's morning toilet complete, and without more ado Sir Everardconfiscated the whole concern. At the white cashmere robe alone hecaviled. 

"This is too gay; I must find a more sober garment. All themaid-servants in the house would recognize this immediately. "

He went to one of the closets, searched there, and presently reappearedwith a black silk dress. Rolling all up in a heap, he started at oncewith his prize, laughing inwardly at the figure he cut. 

"If Lady Louise saw me now, or my lady mother, either, for that matter!What will Mildred and her maid say, I wonder, when they find burglarshave been at work, and her matutinal toilet stolen?"

He bore the bundle straight to the chamber of his pretty runaway, andtapped at the door. It was discreetly opened an inch or two. 

"Here are some clothes. When you are dressed, come out. I will waitin the passage. "

"Thank yon, " Miss Silver's soft voice said. 

The young person whose adventures were so highly sensational doffed hervelveteens and donned the dainty garments of Miss Mildred Kingsland. 

All the things were beautifully made and embroidered, marked with theinitials "M. K. , " and adorned with the Kingsland crest. 

"Miss Mildred Kingsland must be tall and slender, since her dress fitsme so well. Ah, what a change even a black silk dress makes in one'sappearance! He admired me--I saw he did, in jacket andpantiloons--what will be do, then, in this? Will he fall in love withme, I wonder?"

One parting peep in the glass, and she opened the door and stepped outbefore Sir Everard Kingsland, a dazzling vision of beauty. 

He stood and gazed. Could he believe his eyes? Was thissuperb-looking woman with the flowing curls, the dark, bright beautyand imperial mien, the lad in velveteen who had shot the poacher lastnight? Why, Cleopatra might have looked like that, in the height ofher regal splendor, or Queen Semiramis, in the glorious days that weregone. 

"This is indeed a transformation, " he said, coming forward. "Yourdisguise was perfect. I should never have known you for the youth Iparted from ten minutes ago. "

"I can never thank you sufficiently, Sir Everard. Ah, if you knew howI abhorred myself in that hateful disguise! Nothing earthly will everinduce me to put it on again. "

"I trust not, " he said, gravely; "let us hope it may never benecessary. You are safe here, Miss Silver, from the tyranny of youruncle and cousin. The friendless and unprotected shall never be turnedfrom Kingsland Court. "

She took his hand and lifted it to her lips, and once more the luminouseyes were swimming in tears. 

"I would thank you if I could, Sir Everard, " the sweet voice murmured:"but you overpower me! Your goodness is beyond thanks. "

A footstep on the marble stair made itself unpleasantly audible at thisinteresting crisis. Miss Silver dropped the baronet's hand with a wildinstinct of flight in her great black eyes. 

"Return to your room, " Sir Everard whispered. "Lock the door, andremain there until I apprise my mother of your presence here andprepare her to receive you. Quick! I don't want these prying prigs ofservants to find you here. "

She vanished like a flash. 

Sir Everard walked down-stairs, and passed his own valet sleepilyascending. 

"I beg your parding, Sir Heverard, " said the valet; "but we was allvery anxious about you. Sir Galahad came galloping home riderless, and--"

"That will do, Edward. You did not disturb Lady Kingsland?"

"No, Sir Heverard. "

Sir Everard passed abruptly on and sought the stables at once. SirGalahad was there, undergoing his morning toilet, and greeted hismaster with a loud neigh of delight. 

The young baronet dawdled away the lagging morning hours, smokingendless cigars under the waving trees, and waiting for the time when mylady should be visible. She rarely rose before noon, but to-day shedeigned to get up at nine. Sir Everard flung away his last cigar, andwent bounding up the grand stairs three at a time. 

Lady Kingsland sat breakfasting in her boudoir with her daughter--acharming little bijou of a room, all filigree work, and fluted walls, delicious little Greuze paintings, and flowers and perfume--and LadyKingsland, in an exquisitely becoming robe de matin, at five-and-fiftylooked fair and handsome, and scarce middle-aged yet. Time, that dealsso gallantly with these blonde beauties, had just thinned the fair hairat the parting, and planted dainty crow's-feet about the patricianmouth, but left no thread of silver under the pretty Parisian lace cap. 

Mildred Kingsland, opposite her mother, scarcely bore her thirty yearsso gracefully. She had had her little romance, and it had beenincontinently nipped in the bud by imperious mamma, and she haddutifully yielded, with the pain sharp in her heart all the same. Buthe was poor, and Mildred was weak, and so Lady Kingsland's onlydaughter glided uncomplainingly into old-maidenhood. 

My lady glanced over her shoulder, and greeted her son with a bright, loving smile. He was her darling and her pride--her earthly idol--thelast of the Kingslands. 

"Good-morning, Everard! I thought you would have done Mildred andmyself the honor of breakfasting with us. Perhaps it is not too lateyet. May I offer you a cup of chocolate?"

"Not at all too late, mother mine. I accept your offer and yourchocolate on the spot. Milly, good-morning! You are white as yourdress! What is the matter?"

"Mildred is fading away to a shadow of late, " his mother said. "I musttake her to the sea-shore for change. "

"When?" asked Sir Everard. 

"Let me see. Ah! when you are married, I think. What time did youcome home last night, and how is Lady Louise?"

"Lady Louise is very well. My good mother"--half laughing--"are youvery anxious for a daughter-in-law at Kingsland to quarrel with?"

"I shall not quarrel with Lady Louise. "

"Then, willy-nilly, it must be Lord Carteret's daughter, and no other?"

"Everard, " his mother said, earnestly, "you know I have set my heart onseeing Lady Louise your wife; and she loves you, I know. And you, mydarling Everard--you will not disappoint me?"

"I should be an ungrateful wretch if I did! Rest easy, _ma mère_--LadyLouise shall become Lady Kingsland, or the fault shall not be mine. Ibelieved I should have asked the momentous little question last nightbut for that interloper, George Grosvenor!"

"Ah! jealous, of course. He is always _de trop_, that great, stupidGeorge, " my lady said. "And was the dinner-party agreeable; and whattime did you get home?"

"The dinner-party was delightful, and I came home shortly aftermidnight. What time Sir Galahad arrived I can't say--half an hourbefore I did, at least. "

Lady Kingsland looked inquiringly. 

"Did you not ride Sir Galahad?"

"Yes, until I was torn from the saddle! My dear mother, I met with anadventure last night, and you had like never to see your precious sonagain. "

"Everard!"

"Quite true. But for the direct interposition of Providence, in theshape of a handsome lad in velveteen, who shot my assailant, I would belying now in Brithlow Wood yonder, as dead as any Kingsland in thefamily vault. "

And then, while Lady Kingsland gazed at him breathlessly, Sir Everardrelated his midnight adventure. 

"Good heavens!" my lady cried, clasping him in her arms. "Oh, to thinkwhat might have happened! My boy--my boy!"

"Very true, mother; but a miss is as good as a mile, you know. Poetical justice befell my assailant; and here I am safe and sound, sipping chocolate. "

"And the preserver of your life, Everard--where is he?"

"Upstairs, waiting like patience on a monument; and by the same token, fasting all this time! But it isn't a he, _ma mère_; it's a she. "

"What?"

Sir Everard laughed. 

"Such a mystified face, mother! Oh; it's highly sensational andmelodramatic, I promise you! Sit down and hear the sequel. "

And then, eloquently and persuasively, Sir Everard repeated MissSybilla Silver's extraordinary story, and Lady Kingsland was properlyshocked. 

"Disguised herself in men's clothes! My dear Everard, what a dreadfulcreature she must be!"

"Not at all dreadful, mother. She is as sensitive and womanly a younglady as ever I saw in my life. And, she's a very pretty girl, too. "

Lady Kingsland looked suspiciously at her son. She highly disapprovedof pretty girls where he was concerned; but the handsome face was frankand open as the day. 

"Now don't be suspicious, Lady Kingsland. I'm not going to fall inlove with Miss Sybilla Silver, I give you my word and honor. She savedmy life, remember. May I not fetch her here?"

"What! in men's clothes, and before your sister? Everard, how dareyou?"

Sir Everard broke into a peal of boyish laughter that made the roomring. 

"I don't believe she's in men's clothes!" exclaimed Mildred, suddenly. "Honorine told me robbers must have been in my dressing-room lastnight--half my things were stolen. I understand it now--Everard wasthe robber. "

"I am going for her, mother. Remember she is friendless, and that shesaved your son's life. "

He quitted the room with the last word. That claim, he knew, was onehis mother would never repudiate. 

"Oh!" she said, lying back in her chair pale and faint, "to think whatmight have happened!"

As she spoke her son re-entered the room, and by his side a younglady--so stately, so majestic in her dark beauty, that involuntarilythe mother and daughter arose. 

"My mother, this young lady saved my life. Try and thank her for me. Lady Kingsland, Miss Silver. "

Surely some subtle power of fascination invested this dark daughter ofthe earth. The liquid dark eyes lifted themselves in mute appeal tothe great lady's face, and then the proudest woman in England openedher arms with a sudden impulse and took the outcast to her bosom. 

"I can never thank you, " she murmured. "The service you have renderedme is beyond all words. "

An hour later Sybilla went slowly back to her room. She hadbreakfasted _tête-à-tête_ with my lady and her daughter, while SirEverard, in scarlet coat and cord and tops, had mounted his bonny bayand ridden off to Lady Louise and the fox-hunt, and to his fate, thoughhe knew it not. 

"Really, Mildred, " my lady said, "a most delightful young person, truly. Do you know, if she does not succeed in finding her friends Ishould like to retain her as a companion?"

In her own room Sybilla Silver stood before the glass, and she smiledback at her own image. 

"So, my lady, " she said, "you walk into the trap with your eyes open, too--you who are old enough to know better? My handsome face and blackeyes and smooth tongue stand me in their usual good stead. And I savedSir Everard Kingsland's life! Poor fools! A thousand times better foryou all if I had let that midnight assassin shoot him down like a dog!"

CHAPTER X. 

A SHAFT FROM CUPID'S QUIVER. 

It was fully ten o'clock, and the hunting-party were ready to start, when Sir Everard Kingsland joined them, looking handsome and happy as ayoung prince in his very becoming hunting costume. 

Of course the young baronet's first look was for Lady Louise--hescarcely glanced at the rest. She was just being assisted into thesaddle by the devoted George Grosvenor, but she turned to Sir Everardand graciously held out her gauntleted hand. 

"Once more, " she said, "almost late. Laggard! I shall quarrel withyou one of these days if you do not learn to be more punctual. "

"You will never have to reproach me again, " he said. "Had I known youwould have honored my absence by a thought, you should not have had toreproach me now. "

"Very pretty, indeed, Sir Everard. But don't waste your time payingcompliments this morning. Thanks, Mr. Grosvenor; that will do. Forwhom are you looking, Sir Everard? Lady Carteret? Oh, she is going tosee as much of the fun as she can from the carriage, with some otherladies. Miss Hunsden and myself are the only ones who intend to ride. By the way, I hope Sir Galahad will uphold his master's reputationto-day. He must do his very best, or Whirlwind will beat him. "

At that instant a red-coated young gentleman joined them, in an evidentstate of excitement. 

"I say, Kingsland, who's that girl on the splendid roan? She sitssuperbly, and is stunningly handsome besides. I beg your pardon, LadyLouise--perhaps you know. "

"Lord Ernest Strathmore is excited on the subject. That young lady isMiss Harriet Hunsden. Don't lose your head, my lord. One gentlemanpossesses that heart, and all the rest of you may sigh in vain. "

"Indeed! And who is the fortunate possessor?"

"Captain Hunsden, her father. "

At the first mention of her name Sir Everard Kingsland had turnedsharply around and beheld--his fate. But he did not know it. He onlysaw a handsome, spirited-looking girl, sitting a magnificent roan horseas easily as if it had been an arm-chair, and talking animatedly to astalwart soldierly man with white hair and mustache. 

As he glanced away from his prolonged stare he met the piercing gaze ofLady Louise's turquoise-blue eyes. 

"_Et tu, Brute_?" she cried gayly. "Oh, my prophetic soul! Did I notwarn you, Sir Everard? Did I not foretell that the dashing damsel inthe scarlet habit would play the mischief with your fox-hunting hearts?No, no! never deny the soft impeachment! But I tell you, as I toldLord Ernest, it is of no use. She is but seventeen, and 'ower young tomarry yet. '"

Before Sir Everard could retort, the cry of "Here they come!"proclaimed the arrival of the hounds. 

The hounds were put into the gorse, and the red-coats began to move outof the field into the lane, Sir Everard and Lady Louise with them. 

A loud "Halloo!" rang through the air; the hounds came with a rushingroar over a fence. 

"There he is!" cried a chorus of voices, as the fox flew over theground. 

And at the same instant Whirlwind tore by like its namesake, with thehandsome girl upright as a dart. Away went Sir Galahad, side by sidewith the roan. Lady Louise and her sedate nag were left hopelesslybehind. 

On and on like the wind Whirlwind flew the fences, and Miss Hunsden satin her saddle like a queen on her throne. 

The young baronet, even in the fierce heat of the hunt, could see thebeautiful glowing face, the flashing gray eyes, and the lances of lightflickering in the gold-brown hair. Side by side Sir Galahad andWhirlwind darted to the end of the fourth inclosure. 

Then came a change--a wall of black, heavy thorn rose ahead, which noone was mad enough to face. 

The baronet pulled his bay violently to the right and looked to see thedashing huntress follow. But, no; the blood of Miss Hunsden and the"red-roan steed" was up, and straight they went at that awful pace. 

"For God's sake, Miss Hunsden!" cried the voice of Lord ErnestStrathmore, "don't try that!"

But he might as well have spoken to the cataract of Niagara. With atremendous rush Whirlwind charged the place. There was a horriblecrash--another--and a plunge downward. 

Sir Everard turned sick with horror; but Whirlwind settled into hisstride, and the girl recovered her balance in the very instant, andaway again like the wind. 

"Splendidly done, by Jove!" cried Lord Ernest. "I never saw a ladyride before like that in all my life. "

Sir Everard dashed on. His horse was on his mettle; but, do what hewould, the slender, girlish figure, and superb roan kept ahead. Whirlwind took hedges and ditches before him, disdaining to turn to theright or left, and after a sharp run of an hour, Miss Hunsden had theglory and happiness of being one of the few up at the finish in time tosee the fox, quite dead, held over the huntsman's head, with the houndshanging expectant around. 

Every eye turned upon the heroine of the hour, and loud were thecanticles chanted in her honor. The master of the hounds himself rodeup, all aglow with admiration. 

"Miss Hunsden, " he said, "I never in all my life saw a lady ride as yourode to-day. There are not half a dozen men in Devonshire who wouldhave faced those fences as you did. I sincerely hope you willfrequently honor our field by your presence and matchless riding. "

Miss Hunsden bowed easily and smiled. 

And then her father came up, his soldierly old face aglow. 

"Harrie, my dear, I am proud of you! You led us all to-day. Iwouldn't have taken that nasty place myself, and I didn't believe evenWhirlwind could do it. "

Then George Grosvenor and Lord Ernest and the rest of the men crowdedaround, and compliments poured in in a deluge. 

Sir Everard held himself aloof--disgusted, nauseated--or so he toldhimself. 

"Such an unwomanly exhibition! Such a daring, masculine leap! And seehow she sits and smiles on those empty-headed fox-hunters, like anAmazonian queen in her court! How different from Lady Louise! Andyet! good heavens! how royally beautiful she is!"

"Alone, Kingsland?" exclaimed a voice at his elbow; and glancing aroundhe saw Lord Carteret. "What do you think of our pretty Di Vernon? Youdon't often see a lady ride like that. Why don't you pay yourrespects? Don't know her, eh? Come alone; I'll present you. "

Sir Everard's heart gave a sudden plunge, quite unaccountably. Withouta word he rode up to where the gray-eyed enchantress held her magiccircle. 

"Harrie, my dear, " said the elderly nobleman, "I bring a worshiper whohovers aloof and gazes in speechless admiration. Let me present myyoung friend, Sir Everard Kingsland, Miss Hunsden. "

Sir Everard took off his hat, and bent to his saddle-bow. 

"Sir Everard Kingsland!" cried Captain Hunsden, cordially. "Son of myold friend, Sir Jasper, I'll be sworn! My dear boy, how are you? Iknew your father well. We were at Rugby together, and sworncompanions. Harrie, this is the son of my oldest friend. "

"Papa's friends are all mine!"

The voice was clear and sweet as the beaming eyes. She held out herhand with a frank grace, and Sir Everard took it, its light touchthrilling to the core of his heart. 

Sir Everard Kingsland rode back to Carteret Park beside the Indianofficer and his daughter as a man might ride in a trance. Surelywithin an hour the whole world had been changed! He rode on airinstead of solid soil, and the sunshine of heaven was not half sobrilliant as Harriet Hunsden's smile. 

"Confess now, Sir Everard, " she said, "you were shocked andscandalized. I saw it in your face. Oh, don't deny it, and don't tellpolite fibs! I always shock people, and rather enjoy it thanotherwise. "

"Harriet!" her father said, reprovingly. "She is a spoiled madcap, SirEverard, and I am afraid the fault is mine. She has been everywherewith me in her seventeen years of life--freezing amid the snows ofCanada and grilling alive under the broiling sun of India. And theresult is--what you see. "

"The result is--perfection!"

"Papa, " Miss Hunsden said, turning her sparkling face to her father, "for Sir Everard's sake, pray change the subject. If you talk of me, he will feel in duty bound to pay compliments; and really, after such afast run, it is too much to expect of any man. There! I see LadyLouise across the brook yonder. I will leave you gentlemen tocultivate one another. _Allons, messieurs_!"

One fleeting, backward glance of the bewitching face, a saucy smile anda wave of the hand, and Whirlwind had leaped across the brook andambled on beside the sober charger of Lady Louise. 

"Every one has been talking of your riding, Miss Hunsden, " Lady Louisesaid. "I am nearly beside myself with envy. Lord Ernest Strathmoresays you are the most graceful equestrienne he ever saw. "

"His lordship is very good. I wish I could return the compliment, buthis chestnut balked shamefully, and came home dead beat!"

Lord Ernest was within hearing distance of the clear, girlish voice, but he only laughed good-naturedly. 

"As you are strong, be merciful, Miss Hunsden. We can't all performmiracles on horseback, you know. I came an awful cropper at that uglyhedge, to be sure, and your red horse went over me like a blaze oflightning! You owe me some atonement, and--of course you are going tothe ball to-night?"

"Of course! I like balls even better than hunting. "

"And she dances better than she rides, " put in her father, coming up. 

"She is perfection in everything she undertakes, I am certain, " LordErnest said, "and for that atonement I speak of, Miss Hunsden, I claimthe first waltz. "

They rode together to Carteret Park. Sir Everard had the privilege ofassisting her to dismount. 

"You must be fatigued, Miss Hunsden, " he said. "With a ball inprospective, after your hard gallop, I should recommend a long rest. "

"Sir Everard, I don't know the meaning of that word 'fatigue. ' I neverwas tired in my life, and I am ready for the ball to-night, and asteeple-chase to-morrow. "

She tripped off as she spoke, with a mischievous glance. She wanted toshock him, and she succeeded. 

"Poor girl!" he thought, as he slowly turned homeward, "she is reallydreadful. She never had a mother, I suppose, and wandering over theworld with her father has made her a perfect savage. She is truly tobe pitied--so exceedingly beautiful as she is, too!"

Sir Everard certainly was very sorry for that hoidenish Miss Hunsden. He thought of her while dressing for dinner, and he talked of her allthrough that meal "more in sorrow than in anger. "

Sybilla Silver, quite like one of the family already, listened withgreedy ears and eager black eyes. 

"You ought to call, mother, " the baronet said, "you and Mildred. Common politeness requires it, Captain Hunsden was my father's mostintimate friend, and this wild girl stands sadly in need of somematronly adviser. "

"I remember Captain Hunsden, " Lady Kingsland said, thoughtfully, "and Iremember this girl, too, when she was a child of three or four years. He was a very handsome man, I recollect, and he married away in Canadaor the United States. There was some mystery about thatmarriage--something vague and unpleasant--no one knew what. She oughtto be pretty, this daughter. "

"Pretty!" Sir Everard exclaimed; "she is beautiful as an angel! Inever saw such eyes or such a smile in the whole course of my life. "

"Indeed!" his mother said, coldly--"indeed! Not even excepting LadyLouise's?"

"Oh, Lady Louise is altogether different! I didn't mean anycomparison. But you will see her to-night at Lady Carteret's ball, andcan judge for yourself. She is a mere child--sixteen or seventeen, Ibelieve. "

"And Lady Louise is five-and-twenty, " said Mildred, with awful accuracy. 

"She does not look twenty!" exclaimed my lady, sharply. "There are fewyoung ladies nowadays half so elegant and graceful as Lady Louise. "

Miss Silver's large black eyes glided from one to the other with asinister smile in their shining depths. Her soft voice broke in atthis jarring juncture and sweetly turned the disturbed current ofconversation, and Sir Everard understood, and gave her a gratefulglance. 

The young baronet had gone to many balls in his lifetime, but never hadhe been so painfully particular before. He drove Edward, his valet, tothe verge of madness with his whims, and left off at last in sheerdesperation and altogether dissatisfied with the result. 

"I look like a guy, I know, " he muttered, angrily, "and that pertlittle Hunsden is just the sort of girl to make satirical comments on aman if his neck-tie is awry or his hair unbecoming. Not that I carewhat she says; but one hates to feel he is a laughing-stock. "

The ball-room was brilliant with lights, and music, and flowers, anddiamonds, and beautiful faces, and magnificent toilets when theKingsland party entered. 

Lady Carteret, in velvet robes, stood receiving her guests. LadyLouise, with white azaleas in her hair and dress, stood stately andgraceful, looking from tip to toe what she was the descendant of a raceof "highly-wed, highly-fed, highly-bred" aristocrats. 

But at neither of them Sir Everard glanced twice. His eyes wanderedaround and lighted at last on a divinity in a cloud of misty white, crowned with dark-green ivy leaves aglitter with diamond drops. 

While he gazed, Lord Ernest Strathmore came up, said something, andwhirled her off in the waltz. Away they flew. Lord Ernest waltzed toperfection, and she--a French woman or a fairy only could float likethat. 

A fierce, jealous pang griped his heart; a second, and they were out ofsight. Sir Everard roused himself from his trance and went up to hishostess to pay his respects. 

"Ah!" Lady Carteret said, a little spitefully, "the spell is broken atlast! There was no mistaking that look, Sir Everard! My dear LadyKingsland"--laughing, but malicious still--"take care of your son. I'mafraid he's going to fall in love. "

CHAPTER XI. 

"FOR LOVE WILL STILL BE LORD OF ALL. "

My Lady Carteret's ball was a brilliant success, and, fairest where allwere fair, Harrie Hunsden shone down all competitors. As she floateddown the long ball-room on the arm of Lord Ernest, light as aswimming-sprite, a hundred admiring male eyes followed, and a hundredfair patrician bosoms throbbed with bitterest envy. 

"The little Hunsden is in full feather to-night, " lisped GeorgeGrosvenor, coming up with his adored Lady Louise on his arm. "There isnothing half so beautiful in the room, with one exception. And onlylook at Kingsland! Oh, he's done for, to a dead certainty!"

Sir Everard started up rather confusedly. He had been leaning againsta pillar, gazing after the divinity in the ivy crown, with his heart inhis eyes, and Lady Louise was the last person in the universe he hadbeen thinking of. 

"We are losing our waltz, Mr. Grosvenor, " she said, frigidly, "and weare disturbing Sir Everard Kingsland. The 'Guards' Waltz' is a greatdeal too delightful to be missed. "

"I fancied the first waltz was to be mine, Lady Louise, " Sir Everardsaid, with an awful sense of guilt. 

Lady Louise's blue eyes flashed fire. 

"With Miss Hunsden, perhaps--certainly not with me. Come, Mr. Grosvenor. "

It was the first spiteful shaft Lady Louise had ever condescended tolaunch, and she bit her lip angrily an instant after, as George whirledher away. 

"Idiot that I am, " she thought, "to show him I can stoop to bepiqued--to show him I can be jealous--to show him I care for him likethis! He will get to fancy I love him next, and he--he has had neithereyes nor ears for any one else since he saw Harrie Hunsden thismorning. "

A sharp, quick pain pierced the proud breast of the earl's daughter, for she did love him, and she knew it--as much as it was in herlymphatic nature to love at all. 

"I will never forgive him--never!" her white teeth clinched. "Thedastard--to play the devoted to me, and then desert me at the firstsight of a madcap on horseback. I will never stoop to say one civilword to him again. "

Lady Louise kept her vow. Sir Everard, penitent and remorseful, stroveto make his peace in vain. 

Lord Carteret's daughter listened icily, sent barbed shafts tipped withpoison from her tongue in reply, danced with him once, and steadilyrefused to dance again. 

Sir Everard gave it up and went in search of Miss Hunsden, and wasaccepted by that young lady for a redowa. 

"I thought you would have asked me ages ago, " said Harrie, withdelicious frankness. "I saw you were a good dancer, and that is morethan I can say for any other gentleman present, except Lord Ernest. Ah, Lord Ernest can waltz! It is the height of ball-room bliss to behis partner. But you stayed away to quarrel with Lady Louise, Isuppose?"

"I have not been quarreling with Lady Louise, " replied, Sir Everard, feeling guiltily conscious all the same. 

"No? It looked like it, then. She snubs you in the most mercilessmanner, and you--oh, what a penitent face you wore the last time youapproached her! I thought she was a great deal too uplifted forflirting, but what do you call that with George Grosvenor?"

"George Grosvenor is a very old friend. Here is our redowa, MissHunsden. Never mind Lady Louise. "

His arm encircled her waist, and away they flew. Sir Everard coulddance as well as Lord Ernest, and quite as many admiring eyes followedhim and the bright little belle of the ball. Mr. Grosvenor pulled histawny mustache with inward delight. 

"Handsome couple, eh, Carteret?" he said to his host; "it is an evidentcase of spoons there. Well, the boy is only two-and-twenty, and atthat age we all lost our heads easily. "

Two angry red spots, quite foreign to her usual complexion, burned onLady Louise's fair cheeks. She turned abruptly away and left thegentlemen. 

"Little Harrie is pretty enough to excuse an older man losing hishead, " Lord Carteret answered; "but it would not suit Lady Kingsland'sbook at all. The Hunsden is poorer than a church-mouse, and though ofone of our best old-country families, the pedigree bears no proportionto my lady's pride. A duke's daughter, in her estimation, would benone too good for her darling son. "

Mr. Grosvenor smiled satirically. 

"She is a wonderful woman--my lady--but I fancy she is matched at last. If Kingsland sets his heart on this latest fancy, all the powers ofearth and Hades will not move him. Do you recollect that little affairof Miss Kingsland and poor Douglas of the --th? My lady put a stop tothat, and he was shot, poor fellow, before Balaklava. But the son andheir is quite another story. Apropos, I must ask little Mildred todance. _Adio_, Carteret!"

The ball whirled on--the hours went by like bright, swift flashes, and, from the moment of the redowa, to Sir Everard Kingsland it was onebrief, intoxicating dream of delirium. My Lady Kingsland's maternalfrowns, my Lady Louise's imperial scorn--all were forgotten. She was amadcap and a hoiden--a wild, hare-brained, fox-hunting Amazon--all thatwas shocking and unwomanly, but, at the same time, all that was bright, beautiful, entrancing, irresistible. His golden-haired ideal, with theazure eyes and seraphic smile was forgotten, and this gray-eyedenchantress, robed in white, crowned with ivy, dancing desperately thewhole night long, set brain and heart reeling in the mad tarantella oflove. 

It was over at last. The gray and dismal dawn of the November morningstole chilly through the curtained casements. A half-blown rose fromMiss Hunsden's bouquet bloomed in Sir Everard's button-hole, and it wasSir Everard's blissful privilege to fold Miss Hunsden's furred mantlearound those pearly shoulders. 

The bleak morning breeze blew her perfumed hair across his eyes, as sheleaned on his arm and he handed her into the carriage. 

"We shall expect to see you at Hunsden Hall, " the Indian officer said, heartily. "Your father's son, Sir Everard, will ever be a most welcomeguest. "

"Yes, " said Harrie, coquettishly; "come and inquire how my health isafter dancing all night. Etiquette demands that much, and I'm a greatstickler for etiquette. "

"Sir Everard would never have discovered it, I am certain, my dear, ifyou had not told him. "

"A thousand thanks! I shall only be too delighted to avail myself ofboth invitations. "

Sir Everard went home to Kingsland Court as he never had gone homebefore. The whole world was _couleur de rose_--the bleak Novembermorning and the desolate high-road--sweeter, brighter than the ElysianFields. 

How beautiful she was! how the starry eyes had flashed! how the rosylips had smiled! Half the men at the ball were in love with her, heknew; and she--she had danced twice with him, all night, for once withany one else. 

It was a very silent drive. Lady Kingsland sat back among her wraps indispleased silence; Mildred never talked much, and the young baronetwas lost in blissful ecstasy a great deal too deep for words. He couldnot even see his mother was angry--he never gave one poor thought toLady Louise. The whole world was bounded by Harriet Hunsden. 

Sybilla Silver was up and waiting. A bright fire, a cheery cup of tea, and a smiling face greeted her ladyship. 

"Really, Miss Silver, " she said, languidly, "this is very thoughtful ofyou. Where is my maid?"

"Asleep, my lady. Pray let me fulfill her duties this once. I hopeyou enjoyed the ball?"

"I never enjoyed a ball less in my life. Pray make haste--I am in nomood for talking. "

Sybilla's swift, deft fingers disrobed the moody lady, loosened theelaborate structure of hair, brushed it out, and all the while she satfrowning angrily at the fire. 

"There was a young lady at the hall--a Miss Hunsden, " she said, atlast, breaking out in spite of herself--"and the exhibition she madewas perfectly disgraceful. Miss Silver, if you see my son before I getup to-day, tell him I wish particularly for his company at breakfast. "

"Yes, my lady, " Miss Silver said, docilely; and my lady did not see thesmile that faded with the words. 

She understood it perfectly. Sir Everard had broken from the maternalapron-string, deserted the standard of Lady Louise, and gone over to"bold, odious" Miss Hunsden. 

Sybilla dutifully delivered the message the first time she met thebaronet. A groom was holding Sir Galahad, and his master was justvaulting into the saddle. He turned away from the dark face and sweetvoice. 

"It is impossible this morning, " he said. "Tell Lady Kingsland I shallmeet her at dinner. "

He rode away as he spoke, with the sudden consciousness that it was thefirst time he and that devoted mother had ever clashed. Thinking ofher, he thought of her favorite. 

"She wants to read me a tirade, I suppose, about her pet, Lady Louise, "he said to himself. "They would badger me into marrying her if theycould. I never cared two straws for the daughter of Earl Carteret; sheis frightfully _passée_, and she's three years older than I am. I amglad I did not commit myself to please my mother. "

Sir Everard reached Hunsden Hall in time for luncheon. The old placelooked deserted and ruined. The half-pay Indian officer's poverty wasvisible everywhere--in the time-worn furniture, the neglected grounds, the empty stables, and the meager staff of old-time servants. 

"Captain Hunsden is so poor that he will be glad to marry his daughterto the first rich man who asks her. The Hunsden estate is strictlyentailed to the next male heir; he has only his pay, and she will beleft literally a beggar at his death. "

His eyes flashed triumphantly at the thought. Harrie Hunsden stood inthe sunshine on the lawn, with half a score of dogs, big and little, bouncing around her, more lovely, it seemed to the infatuated youngbaronet, in her simple home-dress, than ever. No trace of yesterday'sfatiguing hunt, or last night's fatiguing dancing, was visible in thatradiant face. 

But just at that instant Captain Hunsden advanced to meet him, withLord Ernest Strathmore by his side. 

"What brings that idiot here?" Sir Everard thought. "How absurdlyearly he must have ridden over!"

He turned to Miss Hunsden and uttered the polite common-place properfor the occasion. 

"I told you I never was fatigued, " the young lady said, playing withher dogs, and sublimely at her ease. "I am ready for a second huntto-day, and a ball to-night, and a picnic the day after. I should havebeen a boy. It's perfectly absurd, my being a ridiculous girl, when Ifeel as if I could lead a forlorn hope, or, like Alexander, conquer aworld. Come to luncheon. "

"Conquer a world--come to luncheon? A pretty brace of subjects!" saidher father. 

"Miss Hunsden is quite capable of conquering a world without havingbeen born anything so horrid as a boy, " said Lord Ernest. "There arebloodless conquests, wherein the conquerors of the world are conqueredthemselves. "

The baronet scowled. Miss Hunsden retorted saucily. She and LordErnest kept up a brilliant wordy war. 

He sat like a silent fool--like an imbecile, he said to himself, glowering malignantly. He was madly in love, and he was furiouslyjealous. What business had this ginger-whiskered young lordlinginterloping here? And how disgustingly self-assured and at home hewas! He tried to talk to the captain, but it was a miserable failure. 

It was a relief when a servant entered with the mailbag. 

"The mail reaches us late, " Captain Hunsden said, as he opened it. "Ilike my letters with my breakfast. "

"Any for me, papa?" Harriet asked. 

"One--from your governess in Paris, I think--and half a dozen for me. "

He glanced carelessly at the superscriptions as he laid them down. Butas he took the last he uttered a low cry; his face turned livid: hestared at it as if it had turned into a death's-head in his hand. 

"Oh, papa--"

She stopped in a sort of breathless affright. 

Captain Hunsden rose up. He made no apology. He walked to a windowand tore open his letter with passionate haste. 

His daughter still stood--pale, breathless. 

Suddenly, with a hoarse, dreadful cry, he flung the letter from him, staggered blindly, and fell down in a fit. 

A girl's shrill scream pierced the air. She sprung forward, thrust theletter into her bosom, knelt beside her father, and lifted his head. His face was dark purple, the blood oozed in trickling streams from hismouth and nostrils. 

All was confusion. They bore him to his room; a servant was dispatchedin mad haste for a doctor. Harriet bent over him, white as death. Thetwo young men waited, pale, alarmed, confounded. 

It was an hour before the doctor came--another before he left the sickman's room. As he departed, Harriet Hunsden glided into the apartmentwhere the young men waited, white as a spirit. 

"He is out of danger; he is asleep. Pray leave us now. To-morrow hewill be himself again. "

It was quite evident that she was used to these attacks. The young menbowed respectfully and departed. 

Sir Everard was in little humor, as he went slowly and moodilyhomeward, for his mother's lecture. 

"There is some secret in Captain Hunsden's life, " he thought, "and hisdaughter shares it. Some secret, perhaps, of shame and disgrace--somebar sinister in their shield; and, good heavens! I am mad enough tolove her--I, a Kingsland, of Kingsland, whose name and escutcheon arewithout a blot! What do I know of her antecedents or his? My motherspoke of some mystery in his past life; and there is a look of settledgloom in his face that nothing seems able to remove. Lord ErnestStrathmore, too--he must come to complicate matters. She is the mostglorious creature the sun shines on; and if I don't ask her to be mywife, she will be my Lady Strathmore before the moon wanes!"

CHAPTER XII. 

MISS HUNSDEN SAYS "NO. "

Sir Everard found his mother primed and loaded; but she nursed herwrath throughout dinner, and it was not until they were in thedrawing-room alone that she went off. He was so moodily _distrait_ allthrough the meal that he never saw the volcano smoldering, and theVesuvian eruption took him altogether by surprise. 

"Your conduct has been disgraceful!" Lady Kingsland passionatelycried--"unworthy of a man of honor! You pay Lady Louise everyattention; you make love to her in the most _prononcé_ manner, and atthe eleventh hour you desert her for this forward little barbarian. "

Sir Everard opened his eyes in cool surprise. 

"My dear mother, you mistake, " he said, with perfect _sang froid_. "Lady Louise made love to me!"

"Everard!"

Her voice absolutely choked with rage. 

"It sounds conceited and foppish, I know, " pursued the young gentleman;"but you force me to it in self-defense. I never made love to LadyLouise, as Lady Louise can tell you, if you choose to ask. "

"You never asked her in so many words, perhaps, to be your wife. Shortof that, you have left nothing undone. "

Sir Everard thought of the dinner-party, of the moonlit balcony, ofGeorge Grosvenor, and was guiltily silent. 

"Providence must have sent him, " he thought, "to save me in the lastsupreme moment. Pledged to Lady Louise, and madly in love with HarrietHunsden, I should blow out my brains before sunset!"

"You are silent, " pursued his mother. "Your guilty conscience will notlet you answer. You told me yourself, only two days ago, that but forGeorge Grosvenor you would have asked her to be your wife. "

"Quite true, " responded her son: "but who knows what a day may bringforth? Two days ago I was willing to marry Lady Louise--to ask her, atleast. Now, not all the wealth of the Indies, not the crown of theworld could tempt me. "

"Good heavens!" cried my lady, goaded to the end of her patience; "onlyhear him! Do you mean to tell me, you absurd, mad-headed boy, that inone day you have fallen hopelessly in love with this hare-brained, masculine Harriet Hunsden?"

"I tell you nothing of the sort, madame; the inference is your own. But this I will say--I would rather marry Harriet Hunsden than anyother woman under heaven! Let Lady Louise take George Grosvenor. Heis in love with her, which I never was; and he has an earl's coronet inprospective, which I have not. As for me, I have done with thissubject at once and forever. Even to you, my mother, I can notdelegate my choice of a wife. "

"I will never receive Harriet Hunsden!" Lady Kingsland passionatelycried. 

"Perhaps you will never have the opportunity. She may prefer to becomemistress of Strathmore Castle. Lord Ernest is her most devoted adorer. I have not asked her yet. The chances are a thousand to one she willrefuse when I do. "

His mother laughed scornfully, but her eyes were ablaze. 

"You mean to ask her, then?"

"Most assuredly. "

She laughed again--a bitter, mirthless laugh. 

"We go fast, my friend! And you have hardly known this divinityfour-and-twenty hours. "

"Love is not a plant of slow growth. Like Jonah's gourd, it springsup, fully matured, in an hour. "

"Does it? My son is better versed in amatory floriculture than I am. But before you ask Miss Hunsden to become Lady Kingsland, had you notbetter inquire who her mother was?"

The baronet thought of the letter, and turned very pale. 

"Her mother? I do not understand. What of her mother?"

"Only this"--Lady Kingsland arose as she spoke, her face deathly white, her pale eyes glittering--"the mother is a myth and a mystery. Reportsays Captain Hunsden was married in America--no one knows where--andAmerica is a wide place. No one ever saw the wife; no one ever heardMiss Hunsden speak of her mother; no one ever heard of that mother'sdeath. I leave Sir Everard Kingsland to draw his own inferences. "

She swept from the room with a mighty rustle of silk. A dark figurecrouching on the rug, with its ear to the keyhole, barely had time towhisk behind a tall Indian cabinet as the door opened. 

It was Miss Sybilla Silver, who was already asserting her prerogativeas amateur lady's-maid. 

My lady shut herself up in her own room for the remainder of theevening, too angry and mortified for words to tell. It was the firstquarrel she and her idolized son ever had, and the disappointment ofall her ambitious hopes left her miserable enough. 

But scarcely so miserable as Sir Everard. To be hopelessly in love onsuch short notice was bad enough; to have the dread of a rejectionhanging over him was worse; but to have this dark mystery loominghorribly in the horizon was worst of all. 

His mother's insinuations alone would not have disturbed him; but thoseinsinuations, taken in unison with Captain Hunsden's mysterious illnessof the morning, drove him nearly wild. 

"And I dare not even ask, " he thought, "or set my doubts at rest. Anyinquiry from me, before proposing, would be impertinent; and afterproposing they would be too late. But one thing I am certain of--if Ilose Harrie Hunsden, I shall go mad!"

While he tore up and down like a caged tiger, the door softly openedand his sister looked in. 

"Alone, Everard?" she said, timidly, "I thought mamma was with you. "

"Mamma has just gone to her room in a blessed temper, " answered herbrother, savagely. "Come in Milly, and help me in this horriblescrape, if you can. "

"Is it something about--Miss Hunsden?" hesitatingly. "I thought mammalooked displeased at dinner. "

"Displeased!" exclaimed the young man, with a short laugh; "that is amild way of putting it. Mamma is inclined to play the Grand Mogul inmy case as she did with you and poor Fred Douglas. "

"Oh, brother!"

"Forgive me, Milly. I'm a brute and you're an angel, if there ever wasone on earth! But I've been hectored and lectured, and badgered andbothered until I'm fairly beside myself. She wants me to marry LadyLouise, and I won't marry Lady Louise if she was the last woman alive. Milly, who was Miss Hunsden's mother?"

"Her mother? I'm sure I don't know. I was quite a little girl whenCaptain Hunsden was here before, and Harrie was a pretty littlecurly-haired fairy of three years. I remember her so well. CaptainHunsden dined here once or twice, and I recollect perfectly how gloomyand morose his manner was. I was quite frightened at him. You were atEton then, you know. "

"I know!" impatiently. "I wish to Heaven I had not been. Boy as Iwas, I should have learned something. Did you never hear the cause ofthe captain's gloom?"

"No; papa and mamma knew nothing, and Captain Hunsden kept his ownsecrets. They had heard of his marriage some four or five yearsbefore--a low marriage, it was rumored--an actress, or somethingequally objectionable. Little Harrie knew nothing--at three years itwas hardly likely; but she never prattled of her mother as children ofthat age usually do. There is some mystery about Captain Hunsden'swife, and--pardon me--if you like Miss Hunsden, you ought to have itcleared up. "

Everard laughed--a harsh, strident laugh. 

"If I like Miss Hunsden, my dear little non-committal Milly. Am I togo to Hunsden Hall and say to its master, 'Look here, Captain Hunsden, give me proofs of your marriage--tell me all about your mysteriouswife. You have a very handsome, high-spirited daughter, but before Icommit myself by falling in love with her, I want to make sure therewas no tarnish on the late Mrs. Hunsden's wedding-ring. ' CaptainHarold Hunsden is a proud man. How do you think he will like the styleof that?"

Mildred stood silent, looking distressed. 

"I wish I had married Lady Louise a month ago, and gone out of thecountry!" he burst out, vehemently. "I wish I had never seen thisgirl. She is everything that is objectionable--a half-civilizedmadcap--shrouded in mystery and poverty--danced over the world in abaggage-wagon. I have quarreled with my mother for the first time onher account. But I love her--I love her with all my heart--and I shallgo mad or shoot myself if I don't make her my wife!"

He flung himself impetuously, face downward, on the sofa. Mildredstood pallid and scared in the middle of the floor. Once he lifted hishead and looked at her. 

"Go away, Milly!" he said, hoarsely. "I'm a savage to frighten you so!Leave me; I shall be better alone. "

And Mildred, not knowing what else to do, went. 

Next morning, hours before Lady Kingsland was out of bed, LadyKingsland's son was galloping over the breezy hills and golden downs. An hour's hard run, and he made straight for Hunsden Hall. 

Miss Hunsden was taking a constitutional up and down the terraceoverlooking the sea, with three big dogs. She turned round at SirEverard's approach and greeted him quite cordially. 

"Papa is so much better this morning, " she said, "that he is comingdown to breakfast. He is subject to these attacks, and they never lastlong. Any exciting news overthrows him altogether. "

"That letter contained exciting news, then?" Sir Everard could not helpsaying. 

"I presume so--I did not read it. How placid the sea looks thismorning, aglitter in the sunlight. And yet I have been in the middleof the Atlantic when the waves ran mountains high. "

"You are quite a heroine, Miss Hunsden, and a wonderful traveler for aseventeen-year-old young lady. You see, I know your age; but atseventeen a young lady does not mind, I believe. How long have youbeen in England this time?"

He spoke with careless adroitness; Miss Hunsden answered, franklyenough:

"Five months. You were abroad, I think, at the time. "

"Yes. And now you have come for good, I hope--as if Miss Hunsden couldcome for anything else. "

"It all depends on papa's health, " replied Harriet, quietly ignoringthe compliment. "I should like to stay, I confess. I am very, veryfond of England. "

"Of course--as you should be of your native place. " He was firingnearer the target. 

"England is not my native place, " said Harriet, calmly. "I was born atGibraltar. "

"At Gibraltar! You surprise me. Of course your mother was not anative of Gibraltar?"

"Of course not. My mother was an American--born and bred and marriedin New York. "

"I suppose you scarcely remember her?"

"Scarcely, " the young lady repeated, dryly; "since I never saw her. "

"Indeed! She died then--"

"At my birth--yes. And now, Sir Everard"--the bright, clear eyesflashed suddenly full upon him--"is the catechism almost at an end?"

He absolutely recoiled. If ever guilt was written on a human face, itwas readily written on his. 

"Ah!" Miss Hunsden said, scornfully, "you thought I couldn't find youout--you thought I couldn't see your drift. Have a better opinion ofmy powers of penetration next time, Sir Everard. My poor father, impoverished in purse, broken in health, sensitive in spirit, choosesto hide his wounds--chooses not to wear his heart on his sleeve for theDevonshire daws to peck at--chooses never to speak of his lostwife--and, lo! all the gossips of the country are agape for the news. She was an actress, was she not, Sir Everard? And when I ride acrossthe country, at the heels of the hounds, it is only the spangles, andglitter, and theater glare breaking out again. I could despise it inothers, but I did think better things of the son of my father's oldestfriend! Good-morning, Sir Everard. "

She turned proudly away. 

"Stay, Harriet--Miss Hunsden! Stop--for pity's sake, stop and hear me!I have been presuming--impertinent. I have deserved your rebuke. "

"You have, " she said, haughtily. 

"But I asked those questions because the nameless insinuations I hearddrove me mad--because I love you, I worship you, with all my heart andsoul. "

Like an impetuous torrent the words burst out. He actually flunghimself on his knees before her. 

"My beautiful, queenly, glorious Harriet! I love you as man neverloved woman before!"

Miss Hunsden stood aghast, staring, absolutely confounded. For oneinstant she stood thus; then all was forgotten in her sense of theludicrous. She leaned against a tree, and set up a shout of laughterlong and clear. 

"Oh, good gracious!" cried Miss Hunsden, as soon as she was able tospeak; "who ever heard the like of this? Sir Everard Kingsland, getup. I forgive you everything for this superhuman joke. I haven't hadsuch a laugh for a month. For goodness' sake get up, and don't be agoose!"

The young baronet sprung to his feet, furious with mortification andrage. 

"Miss Hunsden--"

"Oh, don't!" cried Harriet, in a second paroxysm. "Don't make merupture an artery. Love me?--worship me? Why, you ridiculous thing!you haven't known me two days altogether!"

He turned away without speaking a word. 

"And then you're engaged to Lady Louise! Every one says so, and I amsure it looks like it. "

"I am not engaged to Lady Louise. "

He said those words huskily, and he could say no more. 

Miss Hunsden tried to look grave, but her mouth twitched. The sense ofthe ludicrous overcame her sense of decorum, and again she laugheduntil the tears stood in her eyes. 

"Oh, I shall die!" in a faint whisper. "My sides ache. I beg yourpardon, Sir Everard; but indeed I can not help it. It is so funny!"

"So I perceive. Good-morning, Miss Hunsden. "

"And now you are angry. Why, Sir Everard!" catching for the first timea glimpse of his deathly white face, "I didn't think you felt likethis. Oh! I beg your pardon with all my heart for laughing. Ibelieve I should laugh on the scaffold. It's dreadfully vulgar, but itwas born with me, I'm afraid. Did I gallop right into your heart'sbest affections at the fox-hunt? Why, I thought I shocked youdreadfully. I know I tried to. Won't you shake hands, Sir Everard, and part friends?"

"Miss Hunsden will always find me her friend if she ever needs one. Farewell!"

Again he was turning away. He would not touch the proffered palm. Hewas so deathly white, and his voice shook so, that the hot tears rushedinto the impetuous Harrie's eyes. 

"I am so sorry, " she said, with the simple humility of a little child. "Please forgive me, Sir Everard. I know it was horrid of me to laugh;but you don't really care for me, you know. You only think you do; andI--oh! I'm only a flighty little girl of seventeen, and I don't loveanybody in the world but papa, and I never mean to be married--atleast, not for ages to come. Do forgive me. "

He bowed low, but he would neither answer nor take her hand. He wasfar too deeply hurt. 

Before she could speak again he was gone. 

"And he's as mad as a hatter!" said Harrie, ruefully. "Oh, dear, dear!what torments men are, and what a bore falling in love is! And I likedhim, too, better than any of them, and thought we were going to bebrothers in arms--Damon and--what's his name?--and all that sort ofthing! It's of no use my ever hoping for a friend. I shall never haveone in this lower world, for just so sure as I get to like a person, that person must go and fall in love with me, and then we quarrel andpart. It's hard. "

Miss Hunsden sighed deeply, and went into the house. And Sir Everardrode home as if the fiend was after him--like a man gone mad--flung thereins of the foaming horse to the astounded groom, rushed up to hisroom and locked himself in, and declined his luncheon and his dinner. 

When he came down to breakfast next morning, with a white, wild face, and livid rings round his eyes, he electrified the family by his abruptannouncement:

"I start for Constantinople to-morrow. From thence I shall make a tourof the East. I will not return to England for the next three years. "

CHAPTER XIII. 

LYING IN BRITHLOW WOOD. 

A thunderbolt falling at your feet from a cloudless summer sky must berather astounding in its unexpectedness, but no thunderbolt evercreated half the consternation Sir Everard's fierce announcement did. 

"Going away!" his mother murmured--"going to Constantinople. My dearEverard, you don't mean it?"

"Don't I?" he said, fiercely. "Don't I look as if I meant it?"

"But what has happened? Oh, Everard, what does all this mean?"

"It means, mother, that I am a mad, desperate and reckless man; that Idon't care whether I ever return to England again or not. "

Lady Kingsland's own imperious spirit began to rise. Her cheeksflushed and her eyes flashed. 

"It means you are a headstrong, selfish, cruel boy! You don't care aniota what pain you inflict on others, if you are thwarted ever soslightly yourself. I have indulged you from your childhood. You havenever known one unsatisfied wish it was in my power to gratify, andthis is my reward!"

He sat in sullen silence. He felt the reproach keenly in its simpletruth; but his heart was too sore, the pain too bitter, to let himyield. 

"You promise me obedience in the dearest wish of my heart, " herladyship went on, heedless of the presence of Mildred and Sybilla, "andyou break that promise at the first sight of a wild young hoiden in ahunting-field. It is on her account you frighten me to death in thisheartless manner, because I refuse my consent to your consummating yourown disgrace. "

"My disgrace? Take care, mother!"

"Do you dare speak in that tone to me?" She rose up from the table, livid with passion. "I repeat it, Sir Everard Kingsland--yourdisgrace! Mystery shrouds this girl's birth and her father'smarriage--if he ever was married--and where there is mystery there isguilt. "

"A sweeping assertion!" the baronet said, with concentrated scorn; "butin the present instance, my good mother, a little out of place. Themystery is of your own making. The late Mrs. Harold Hunsden was anative of New York. There she was married--there she died at herdaughter's birth. Captain Hunsden cherishes her memory all too deeplyto make it the town talk, hence all the county is up agape inventingslander. I hope you are satisfied?"

Lady Kingsland stood still, gazing at him in surprise. 

"Who told you all this?" she asked. 

"She who had the best right to know--the slandered woman's daughter. "

"Indeed--indeed!" slowly and searchingly. "You have been talking toher, then? And your whole heart is really set on this matter, Everard?"

She came a step nearer; her voice softened; she laid one slender hand, with infinite tenderness, on his shoulder. 

"What does it matter?" he retorted, impatiently. "For Heaven's sake, let me alone, mother!"

"My boy, if you really love this wild girl so much, if your whole heartis set on her, I must withdraw my objections. I can refuse my darlingnothing. Woo Harriet Hunsden, wed her, and bring her here. I will tryand receive her kindly for your sake. "

Sir Everard Kingsland shook off the fair, white, caressing hand, androse to his feet, with a harsh, strident laugh. "You are very good, mymother, but it is a little too late. Miss Hunsden did me the honor torefuse me yesterday. "

"Refuse you?"

"Even so--incredible as it sounds! You see this little barbarian isnot so keenly alive to the magnificent honor of an alliance with thehouse of Kingsland as some others are, and she said No plumply when Iasked her to be my wife. "

Again that harsh, jarring laugh rang out, and with the last word hestrode from the room, closing the door with an emphatic bang. 

Lady Kingsland sunk down in the nearest chair, perfectly overcome. Sybilla Silver raised her tea-cup, and hid a malicious smile there. 

"Refused him!" my lady murmured, helplessly. "Mildred, did you hearwhat he said?"

"Yes, mamma, " Mildred replied, in distress. "She is a very proudgirl--Harriet Hunsden. "

"Proud! Good heavens!" my lady sprung to her feet, goaded by the word. "The wretched little pauper! the uneducated, uncivilized, horriblelittle wretch! What business has she with pride--with nothing underthe sun to be proud of? Refuse my son! Oh, she must be mad, or afool, or both! I will never forgive her as long as I live; nor him, either, for asking her!"

With which my lady flung out of the apartment, in a towering rage, andwent up to her room and fell into hysterics and the arms of her maid onthe spot. 

It was a day of distress at Kingsland Court--gloom and despair reigned. Lady Kingsland, shut up in her own apartments, would not becomforted--and Sir Everard, busied with his preparations, was doggedlydetermined to carry out his designs. Sybilla was the only one whoenjoyed the situation. 

As she stood in the front portico, early in the afternoon, humming anopera tune, a servant wearing the Hunsden livery rode up to her anddelivered a twisted note. 

"For Sir Everard, " said the man, and rode away. 

Miss Silver took it, looked at it with one of her curious littlesmiles, thought a moment, turned, and carried it straight to my lady. My lady examined it with angry eyes. 

"From Miss Hunsden, " she said, contemptuously. "She repents her hastydecision, no doubt, and sends to tell him so. Bold, designingcreature! Find Sir Everard's valet, Miss Silver, and give it to him. "

Sir Everard was in his dressing-room, and his pale face flushed deepred as he received the note. He tore it open and literally devouredthe contents. 

DEAR SIR EVERARD, --Please, please, please forgive me! Oh, I am sosorry I laughed and made you angry! But indeed I thought you onlymeant it as a joke. Two days is such a little while to be acquaintedbefore proposing, you know. Won't you come to see us again? Papa hasasked for you several times. Pray pardon me. You would if you knewhow penitent I am. 

 Yours remorsefully, HARRIE HUNSDEN. 

Hunsden Hall, Nov. 15th, 18--. 

He read the piteous, childish little letter over and over again untilhis face glowed. Hope planted her shining foot once more on thebaronet's heart. 

"I will go at once, " he said, hiding the little note very near hisheart. "Common courtesy requires me to say farewell before I start forConstantinople. And the captain likes me, and his influence isall-powerful with her, and who knows--"

He did not finish the mental sentence. He rapidly completed histoilet, ordered his horse, and set off hot foot. 

Of course, all the short cuts came in requisition. The path throughBrithlow Wood was the path he took, going at full gallop. Lost in adeliciously hopeful reverie, he was half-way through, when a hollowgroan from the wayside smote his ear. 

"For God's sake, help a dying man!"

The baronet stared around aghast. Right before him, under the trees, lay the prostrate figure of a fallen man. To leap off his horse, tobend over him, was but the work of an instant. Judge of his dismaywhen he beheld the livid, discolored face of Captain Hunsden. 

"Great Heaven! Captain Hunsden! What horrible accident is this?"

"Sir Everard, " he murmured, in a thick, choking tone, "go--tellHarrie--poor Harrie--"

His voice died away. 

"Were you thrown from your horse? Were you waylaid?" asked the youngman, thinking of his own recent adventure. 

"One of those apoplectic attacks. I was thrown. Tell Harrie--"

Again the thick, guttural accents failed. 

Sir Everard raised his head, and knelt for a moment bewildered. Howshould he leave him here alone while he went in search of a conveyance?

Just then, as if sent by Providence, the Reverend Cyrus Green, in hischaise, drove into the woodland path. 

"Heaven be praised!" cried the baronet. "I was wondering what I shoulddo. A dreadful accident has happened, Mr. Green. Captain Hunsden hashad a fall, and is very ill. "

The rector got out, in consternation, and bent above the prostrate man. The captain's face had turned a dull, livid hue, his eyes had closed, his breathing came hoarse and thick. 

"Very ill, indeed, " said the clergyman, --"so ill that I fear he willnever be better. Let us place him in the chaise, Sir Everard. I willdrive slowly, and do you ride on to Hunsden Hall to prepare hisdaughter for the shock. "

The Indian officer was a stalwart, powerful man. It was the utmosttheir united strength could do to lift him into the chaise. 

"Ride--ride for your life!" the rector said, "and dispatch a servantfor the family doctor. I fear the result of this fall will be fatal. "

He needed no second bidding; he was off like the wind. Sir Galahadsprung over the ground, and reached Hunsden in an incredibly shorttime. A flying figure, in wild alarm, came down the avenue to meet him. 

"Oh, Sir Everard!" Harrie panted, in affright, "where is papa? He leftto go to Kingsland Court, and Starlight has come galloping backriderless. Something awful has happened, I know!"

His man's heart burned within him. He wanted to catch her in his arms, to hold her there forever--to shield her from all the world and allworldly sorrow. 

Something of what he felt must have shone in his ardent eyes. Hersdropped, and a bright, virginal blush dyed for the first time cheek andbrow. He vaulted off his horse and stood uncovered before her. 

"Dear Miss Hunsden, " he said, gently, "there has been an accident. Iam sorry to be the bearer of ill news, but don't be alarmed--all mayyet be well. "

"Papa, " she barely gasped. 

"He has met with an accident--a second apoplectic fit. I found himlying in Brithlow Wood. He had fallen from his horse. Mr. Green isfetching him here in his chaise. They will arrive presently. You hadbetter have his room prepared, and I--will I ride for your physicianmyself?"

She leaned against a tree, sick and faint. He made a step toward her, but she rallied and motioned him off. 

"No, " she said, "let me be! Don't go, Sir Everard--remain here. Iwill send a servant for the doctor. Oh, I dreaded this! I warned himwhen he left this afternoon, but he wanted to see you so much. "

She left him and hurried into the house, dispatched a man for thedoctor, and prepared her father's room. 

In fifteen minutes the doctor's pony-chaise drove up. He and thebaronet and the butler assisted the stricken and insensible man up tohis room, and laid him upon the bed from which he was never more torise. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

THE CAPTAIN'S LAST NIGHT. 

A young crescent moon rose in the bleak sky; on the shore theflood-tide beat its hoarse refrain, and in his chamber Harold GodfreyHunsden lay dying. 

They knew it--the silent watchers in that somber room--his daughter, and all. She knelt by the bedside, her face hidden, still, tearless, stunned. Sir Everard, the doctor, the rector, silent and sad, stoodaround. 

The dying man had been aroused to full consciousness at last. One handfeebly rested on his daughter's stricken young head, the other laymotionless on the counterpane. His dulled eyes went aimlesslywandering. 

"Doctor!"

The old physician bent over him. 

"How long?" he paused--"how long can I last?"

"My dear friend--"

"How long? Quick! the truth! how long?"

"Until to-morrow. "

"Ah!"

The hand lying on Harrie's dark curls lay more heavily perhaps--thatwas all. 

"Is there anything you wish? anything you want done? any person youwould like to see?"

"Yes, " the dying man answered, "yes, Sir Everard Kingsland. "

"Sir Everard Kingsland is here. "

He motioned the baronet to approach. 

Sir Everard bent over him. 

"Send them away, " said the sick man. "Both. I want to speak to youalone. "

Ho delivered the message, and the rector and doctor went into thepassage to wait. 

"Come closer, " the captain said, and the young baronet knelt by thebedside, opposite Harrie, "and tell the truth to a dying man. Harrie, my darling, are you listening?"

"Yes, papa. "

She lifted her pale young face, rigid in tearless despair. 

"My own dear girl, I am going to leave a little sooner than I thought. I knew my death would be soon and sudden, but I did not expect it sosoon, so awfully sudden as this!" His lips twitched spasmodically, andthere was a brief pause. "I had hoped not to leave you alone andfriendless in the world, penniless and unprotected. I hoped to live tosee you the wife of some good man, but it is not to be. God wills forthe best, my darling, and to Him I leave you. "

A dry, choking sob was the girl's answer. Her eyes were burning andbright. The captain turned to the impatient, expectant young baronet. 

"Sir Everard Kingsland, " he said, with a painful effort, "you are theson of my old and much-valued friend; therefore I speak. My nearapproach to eternity lifts me above the minor considerations of time. Yesterday morning, from yonder window, I saw you on the terrace with mydaughter. "

The baronet grasped his hand, his face flushed, his eyes aglow. Oh, surely, the hour of his reward had come!

"You made her an offer of your hand and heart?"

"Which she refused, " the young man said, with a glance of unutterablereproach. "Yes, sir; and I love her with my whole heart!"

"I thought so, " very faintly. "Why did you refuse, Harrie?"

"Oh, papa! Why are we talking of this now?"

"Because I am going to leave you, my daughter. Because I would notleave you alone. Why did you refuse Sir Everard?"

"Papa, I--I only knew him such a little while. "

"And that is all? You don't dislike him, do you?"

"No-o, papa. "

"And you don't like any one else better?"

"Papa, you know I don't. "

"My own spotless darling! And you will let Sir Everard love you, andbe your true and tender husband?"

"Oh, papa, don't!"

She flung herself down with a vehement cry. But Sir Everard turned hisradiant, hopeful, impassioned face upon the Indian officer. 

"For God's sake, plead my cause, sir! She will listen to you. I loveher with all my heart and soul. I will be miserable for life withouther. "

"You hear, Harrie? This vehement young wooer--make him happy. Make mehappy by saying 'Yes. '"

She looked up with the wild glance of a stag at bay. For one momenther frantic idea was flight. 

"My love--my life!" Sir Everard caught both her hands across the bed, and his voice was hoarse with its concentrated emotion. "You don'tknow how I love you. If you refuse I shall go mad. I will be thetruest, the tenderest husband ever man was to woman. "

"I am dying, Harrie, " her father said, sadly, "and you will be allalone in this big, bad world. But if your heart says 'No, ' my own bestbeloved, to my old friend's son, then never hesitate to refuse. In allmy life I never thwarted you. On my death-bed I will not begin. "

"What shall I do?" she cried. "What shall I do?"

"_Consent_!" her lover whispered. 

"Consent!" Her father's anxious eyes spoke the word eloquently. 

She looked from one to the other--the dying father, the handsome, hopeful, impetuous young lover. Some faint thrill in her heartanswered his. Girls like daring lovers. 

She drew her hands out of his clasp, hesitated a moment, while thatlovely, sensitive blush came and went, then gave them suddenly back ofher own accord. 

He grasped them tight, with an inarticulate cry of ecstasy. For worldshe could not have spoken. The dying face looked unutterably relieved. 

"That means 'Yes, ' Harrie?"

"Yes, papa. "

"Thank God!"

He joined their hands, looking earnestly at the young man. 

"She is yours, Kingsland. May God deal with you, as you deal with myorphan child!"

"Amen!"

Solemnly Sir Everard Kingsland pronounced his own condemnation with theword. Awfully came back the memory of that adjuration in the terribledays to come. 

"She is very young, " said Captain Hunsden, after a pause--"too young tomarry. You must wait a year. "

"A year!"

Sir Everard repeated the word in consternation, as if it had been acentury. 

"Yes, " said the captain, firmly. "A year is not too long, and she willonly be eighteen then. Let her return to her old _pension_ in Paris. She sadly needs the help of a finishing school, my poor little girl!My will is made. The little I leave will suffice for her wants. Mr. Green is her guardian--he understands my wishes. Oh, my lad! you willbe very good to my friendless little Harrie! She will have but you inthe wide world. "

"I swear it, Captain Hunsden! It will be my bliss and my honor to makeher my happy wife. "

"I believe you. And now go--go both, and leave me alone, for I am verytired. "

Sir Everard arose, but Harrie grasped her father's cold hand in terror. 

"No, no, papa! I will not leave you. Let me stay. I will be veryquiet--I shall not disturb you. "

"As you like, my dear. She will call you, Kingsland, by and by. "

The young man left the room. Then Harriet lifted a pale, reproachfulface to her father. 

"Papa, how could you?"

"My dear, you are not sorry? You will love this young man very dearly, and he loves you. "

"But his mother, Lady Kingsland, detests me. And, I want to enter noman's house unwelcome. "

"My dear, don't be hasty. How do you know Lady Kingsland detests you?That is impossible, I think. She will be a kind mother to my littlemotherless girl. Ah, pitiful Heaven! that agony is to come yet!"

A spasm of pain convulsed his features, his brows knit, his eyesgleamed. 

"Harrie, " he said, hoarsely, grasping her hands, "I have a secret totell you--a horrible secret of guilt and disgrace! It has blighted mylife, blasted every hope, turned the whole world into a black andfestering mass of corruption! And, oh! worst of all, you must bearit--your life must be darkened, too. But not until the grave hasclosed over me. My child, look here. "

He drew out, with a painful effort, something from beneath his pillowand handed it to her. It was a letter, addressed to herself, andtightly sealed. 

"My secret is there, " he whispered--"the secret it would blister mylips to tell you. When you are safe with Madame Beaufort, in Paris, open and read this--not before. You promise, Harrie?"

"Anything, papa--everything!" She hid it away in her bosom. "And nowtry to sleep; you are talking a great deal too much. "

"Sing for me, then. "

She obeyed the strange request--he had always loved to hear her sing. She commenced a plaintive little song, and before it was finished hewas asleep. 

All night long she watched by his bedside. Now he slept, now he wokeup fitfully, now he fell into a lethargic repose. The doctor and SirEverard kept watch in an adjoining chamber, within sight of thatgirlish form. 

Once, in the small hours, the sick man looked at her clearly, and spokealoud:

"Wake me at day-dawn, Harrie. "

"Yes, papa. "

And then he slept again. The slow hours dragged away--morning wasnear. She walked to the window, drew the curtain and looked out. Dimly the pearly light was creeping over the sky, lighting the purple, sleeping sea, brightening and brightening with every passing second. 

She would not disobey him. She left the window and bent over the bed. How still he lay!

"Papa, " she said, kissing him softly, "day is dawning. "

But the captain never moved nor spoke. And then Harriet Hunsden knewthe everlasting day had dawned for him. 

CHAPTER XV. 

THE DEAD MAN'S SECRET. 

It was a very stately ceremonial that which passed through the gates ofHunsden Hall, to lay Harold Godfrey Hunsden's ashes with those of manyscores of Hunsdens who had gone before. 

The heir at law---an impoverished London swell--was there in sables andsweeping hat-band, exulting inwardly that the old chap had gone at last, and "the king had got his own again. "

Sir Everard Kingsland was there, conspicuous and interesting in his newcapacity of betrothed to the dead man's daughter. 

And the dead man's daughter herself, in trailing crape and sables, deathly pale and still, was likewise there, cold and rigid almost as thecorpse itself. 

For she had never shed a tear since that awful moment when, with a wild, wailing cry of orphanage, she had flung herself down on the dead breastas the new day dawned. 

The day of the funeral was one of ghostly gloom. The November windswept icily over the sea with a dreary wail of winter; the cold rainbeat its melancholy drip, drip; sky and earth and sea were all blurredin a clammy mist. 

White and wild, Harriet Hunsden hung on her lover's arm while theReverend Cyrus Green solemnly read the touching burial service, andHarold Hunsden was laid to sleep the everlasting sleep. 

And then she was going back to the desolate old home--oh, so horriblydesolate now! She looked at his empty chamber, at his vacant chair, athis forsaken bed. Her face worked; with a long, anguished cry she flungherself on her lover's breast and wept the rushing, passionate tears ofseventeen that keep youthful hearts from breaking. 

He held her there as reverently, as tenderly as that dead father mighthave done, letting her cry her fill, smoothing the glossy hair, kissingthe slender hands, calling her by names never to be forgotten. 

"My darling--my darling! my bride--my wife!"

She lifted her face at last and looked at him as she never had looked atmortal man before. In that moment he had his infinite reward. Sheloved him as only these strong-hearted, passionate women can love--onceand forever. 

"Love me, Everard, " she whispered, holding him close. "I have no one inthe world now but you. "

 * * * * *

That night Harrie Hunsden left the old home forever. The Reverend Cyrusdrove her to the rectory in the rainy twilight, and still her lover satby her side, as it was his blissful privilege to sit. She clung to himnow, in her new desolation, as she might never have learned to cling inhappier times. 

The rector's wife received the young girl with open arms, and embracedher with motherly heartiness. 

"My poor, pale darling!" she said, kissing the cold cheeks. "You muststay with us until your lost roses come back. "

But Harriet shook her head. 

"I will go to France at once, please, " she said, mournfully. "MadameBeaufort was always good to me, and it was his last wish. "

Her voice choked. She turned away her head. 

"It shall be as you say, my dear. But who is to take you?"

"Mrs. Hilliard, and--I think--Sir Everard Kingsland. "

Mrs. Hilliard had been housekeeper at Hunsden Hall, and was a distantrelative of the family. Under the new dynasty she was leaving, and hadproffered her services to escort her young mistress to Paris. 

The Reverend Cyrus, who hated crossing the channel, had closed with theoffer at once, and Sir Everard was to play protector. 

One week Miss Hunsden remained at the rectory, fortunately so busied byher preparations for departure that no time was left for brooding overher bereavement. 

And then, in spite of that great trouble, there was a sweet, new-bornbliss flooding her heart. 

How good he was to her--her handsome young lover--how solicitous, howtender, how devoted! She could lay her hand shyly on his shoulder, inthese calm twilights, and nestle down in his arms, and feel that lifeheld something unutterably sweet and blissful for her still. 

As for Everard, he lived at the rectory. He rode home every night, andhe mostly breakfasted at the Court; but to all intents and purposes hedwelt at the parsonage. 

"Where the treasure is, there will the heart be also"; and my lady, nowthat things were settled, and the journey to Constantinople postponedindefinitely, had sunk into a state of sulky displeasure, and wassatirical, and scornful, and contemptuous, and stately, and altogetherexquisitely disagreeable. 

Lady Louise had left Devonshire, and gone back to shine brilliantly inLondon society once more. 

Miss Hunsden went to France with the portly old house-keeper and thedevoted young baronet. Mme. Beaufort received her ex-pupil with veryFrench effusion. 

"Ah, my angel! so pale, so sad, so beautiful! I am distracted at theappearance! But we will restore you. The change, the associations--allwill be well in time. "

The lonely young creature clung to her lover with passionate abandon. 

"Don't go back just yet, Everard, " she implored. "Let me get used tobeing alone. When you are with me I am content, but when you go, and Iam all alone among these strangers--"

But he needed no pleading--he loved her entirely, devotedly. Hepromised anything--everything! He would remain in Paris the whole yearof probation, if she wished, that he might see her at least every week. 

She let him go at last, and stole away in the dusky gloaming to herallotted little room. She locked the door, sat down by the table, laidher face on her folded arms, and wet them with her raining tears. 

"I loved him so!" she thought--"my precious father! Oh, it was hard tolet him go!"

She cried until she could literally cry no longer. Then she arose. Itwas quite dark now, and she lighted her lamp. 

"I will read his letter, " she said to herself--"the letter he left forme. I will learn this terrible secret that blighted his life. "

There was her writing-case on the table. She opened it and took out theletter. She looked sadly at the superscription a moment, then opened itand began to read. 

"It will be like his voice speaking to me from the grave, " she thought. "My own devoted father!"

Half an hour passed. The letter was long and closely written, and thegirl read it slowly from beginning to end. 

It dropped in her lap. She sat there, staring straight before her, witha fixed, vacant stare. Then she arose slowly, placed it in thewriting-case, put her hand to her head confusedly, and turned with abewildered look. 

Her face flushed dark red; the room was reeling, the walls rockingdizzily. She made a step forward with both hands blindly outstretched, and fell headlong to the floor. 

Next morning Sir Everard Kingsland, descending to his hotel breakfast, found a sealed note beside his plate. He opened it, and saw it was fromthe directress of the _Pensionnat des Demoiselles_. 

MONSIEUR, --It is with regret I inform you Mademoiselle Hunsden is veryill. When you left her last evening she ascended to her room at once. An hour after, sitting in an apartment underneath, I heard a heavy fall. I ran up at once. Mademoiselle lay on the floor in a dead swoon. Irang the bell; I raised her; I sent for the doctor. It was a very longswoon--it was very difficult to restore her. Mademoiselle was very illall night--out of herself--delirious. The doctor fears for the brain. Ah, _mon Dieu_! it is very sad--it is deplorable! We all weep for thepoor Mademoiselle Hunsden. I am, monsieur, with profoundest sentimentsof sorrow and pity, MARIE JUSTINE CELESTE BEAUFORT. 

The young baronet waited for no breakfast. He seized his hat, tore outof the hotel, sprung into a fiacre, and was whirled at once to the_pension_. 

Madame came to him to the parlor, her lace handkerchief to her eyes. Mademoiselle was very ill. Monsieur could not see her, of course, buthe must not despair. 

Doctor Pillule had hopes. She was so young, so strong; but the shock ofher father's death must have been preying on her mind. Madame'ssympathy was inexpressible. 

Harriet lay ill for many days--delirious often, murmuring thingspitiably small, calling on her father, on her lover--sometimes on herhorses and dogs. The physician was skillful, and life won the battle. But it was a weary time before they let her descend to the parlor to seethat impatient lover of hers. 

It was very near Christmas, and there was snow on the ground, when shecame slowly down one evening to see him. He sat alone in the primesalon, where the porcelain stove stood, with its handful of fire, looking gloomily out at the feathery flakes whirling through the leadentwilight. He turned round as she glided in, so unlike herself, so likea spirit, that his heart stood still. 

"My love! my love!"

It was all he could say. He took her in his arms, so worn, so wasted, so sad; wan as the fluttering snow without. All his man's heartoverflowed with infinite love and pity as he held that frail form in hisstrong clasp. 

"Dear Everard, I have been so ill and so lonely; I wanted you so much!"

He drew her to him as if he would never let her go again. 

"If I could only be with you always, my darling. It is cruel to keep usapart for a year. "

"It was poor papa's wish, Everard. "

Presently madame came in, and there were lights, and bustle, andseparation. Mme. Hunsden must not remain too long, must not exciteherself. Monsieur must go away, and come again to-morrow. 

"I will let her see you every day, poor, homesick child, until she iswell enough to go into the _classe_ and commence her studies. Then, notso often. But monsieur will be gone long before that!"

"No, " Sir Everard said, distinctly. "I remain in Paris for the winter. I trust to madame's kind heart to permit me to see Miss Hunsden often. "

"Often! Ah, _mon Dieu_! how you English are impetuous! so--how do youcall him?--unreasonable! Monsieur may see mademoiselle in the salonevery Saturday afternoon--not oftener. "

"It is better so, Everard. I want to study--Heaven knows I need it! andyour frequent visits would distract me. Let once a week suffice. "

Sir Everard yielded to the inevitable with the best grace possible. Hetook his leave, raising Harriet's hand to his lips. 

Harrie lingered by the window for a moment, looking wistfully after theslender figure, and slow, graceful walk. 

"If he only knew!" she murmured. "If he only knew the terrible secretthat struck me down that night! But I dare not tell--I dare not, evenif that voice from the dead had not forbidden me. I love him sodearly--so dearly! Ah, pitiful Lord! let him never know!"

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE BARONET'S BRIDE. 

The winter months wore by. Spring came, and still that most devoted oflovers, Sir Everard Kingsland, lingered in Paris, near his gray-eyeddivinity. His life was no dull one in the gayest capital of Europe. He had hosts of friends, the purse of Fortunatus, the youth and beautyof a demi-god. Brilliant Parisian belles, flashing in ancestraldiamonds, with the blue blood of the old _régime_ in their delicateveins, showered their brightest smiles, their most entrancing glances, upon the handsome young Englishman in vain. His loyal heart neverswerved in its allegiance to his gray-eyed queen--the love-light thatlighted her dear face, the warm, welcoming kiss of her cherry lips, were worth a hundred Parisian belles with their ducal coats of arms. "Faithful and true" was the motto on his seal; faithful and true inevery word and thought--true as the needle to the North Star--was he tothe lady of his love. 

The weeks went swiftly and pleasantly enough; but his red-letter daywas the Saturday afternoon that brought him to his darling. And she, buried among her dry-as-dust school-books and classic lore--how shelooked forward to the weekly day of grace no words of mine can tell. 

But with the first bright days of April came a change. He was goingback to England, he told her, one Saturday afternoon, as they sat, lover-like, side by side, in the prim salon. She gave a low cry at thewords, and looked at him with wild, wide eyes. 

"Going to England! Going to leave me!"

"My dearest, it is for your sake I go, and I will be gone but a littlewhile. The end of next October our long year of waiting ends, andbefore the Christmas snow flies, my darling must be all my own. It isto prepare for our marriage I go. "

She hid her glowing face on his shoulder. 

"I would make Kingsland Court a very Paradise, if I could, for mybright little queen. As I can not make it quite Paradise, I will dowhat I can. "

"Any place is my Paradise so that you are there, Everard!"

"Landscape gardeners and upholsterers shall wave their magic wands andwork their nineteenth century miracles, " he said, presently, revertingto his project. "My dear girl's future home shall be a very bower ofdelights. And, besides, I want to see my mother. She feels herself alittle slighted, I am afraid, after this winter's absence. "

"Ah, your mother!" with a little sigh. "Will she ever like me, do yonthink, Everard? Her letter was so cold, so formal, so chilling!"

For this high-stepping young lady who had ridden at the fox-hunt withreckless daring, who was so regally uplifted and imperious, had grownvery humble in her new love. 

Harrie had written to my lady an humble, girlish, appealing littleletter, and had received the coldest of polite replies with the "bloodyhand" and the Kingsland crest emblazoned proudly, and the motto of thehouse in good old Norman French, "Strike once, and strike well. "

Since then there had been no correspondence. Miss Hunsden was tooproud to sue for her favor, and Sir Everard loved her too sensitivelyto expose her to a possible rebuff. 

My lady was unutterably offended by her son's desertion of a wholewinter. She was nothing to him now. This bold, masculine girl withthe horrible boy's name was his all in all now. 

Sir Everard Kingsland met with a very cold reception from his ladymother upon his return to Devonshire. She listened in still disdain tohis glowing accounts of the marvels the summer would work in the grandold place. 

"And all this for the penniless daughter of a half-pay captain; andLady Louise might have been his wife. "

Sir Everard ran heedlessly on. 

"You and Milly shall retain your old rooms, of course, " he said, "andhave them altered or not, just as you choose. Harrie's room shall bein the south wing--she likes a sunny, southern prospect--and the winterand summer drawing-rooms must be completely refurnished; and theconservatory has been sadly neglected of late, and the oak paneling inthe dining-room wants touching up. Hadn't you better give all theorders for your own apartments yourself? The others I will attend to. "

"My orders are already given, " Lady Kingsland said, with frigidhauteur. "My jointure house is to be fitted up. Before you returnfrom your honey-moon I will have quitted Kingsland Court with mydaughter. Permit Mildred and me to retain our present apartmentsunaltered until that time; then the future Lady Kingsland can have theold rooms disfigured with as much gilding and stucco and ormolu as shepleases. "

The young man's fair face blackened with an angry scowl as he listenedto the taunting, spiteful speech. But he restrained himself. 

"There is no necessity for your withdrawal from your old home. If youleave, it will be against my wish. Neither my wife nor I could everdesire such a step. "

"Your wife! Does she take state upon herself already? To you and yourwife, Sir Everard Kingsland, I return my humble thanks, but evenKingsland Court is not large enough for two mistresses. I will neverstand aside and see the pauper daughter of the half-pay captain rulewhere I ruled once. "

She swept majestically out of the room as she launched her lastsmarting shaft, leaving her son with face of suppressed rage, torecover his temper as best he might. 

"He will never ask me again, " she thought. "I know his nature toowell. "

And he did not. He went about his work with stern determination, neverconsulting her, never asking advice, or informing her of anyproject--always deferential, always studiously polite. 

There was one person, however, at the Court who made up, by the warmthof her greeting and the fervor of her sympathy, for any lack on hismother's part. It was Miss Sybilla Silver who somehow had grown to beas much a fixture there as the marble and bronze statues. 

She had written to find her friends in Plymouth, or she said so, andfailed, and she had managed to make herself so useful to my lady thatmy lady was very glad to keep her. She could make caps like a Parisianmilliner; she could dress her exquisitely; she could read for hours inthe sweetest and clearest of voices, without one yawn, the dullest ofdull High Church novels. She could answer notes and sing like a siren, and she could embroider _prie-dieu_ chairs and table-covers, andslippers and handkerchiefs, and darn point lace like Fairy Fingersherself. 

She was a treasure, this ex-lad in velveteen, and my lady counted it alucky day that brought her to Kingsland. But Miss Sybilla belonged tomy lady's son, and not to my lady. To the young lord of Kingsland herallegiance was due, and at his bidding she was ready, at a moment'snotice, to desert the female standard. 

Sir Everard, who took a kindly interest in the dashing damsel with thecoal-black hair and eyes, who had shot the poacher, put the questionplump one day:

"My mother and sister leave before the end of the year, Sybilla. Willyou desert me, too?"

"Never, Sir Everard! I will never desert you while you wish me tostay. "

"I should like it, I confess. It will be horribly dreary for my brideto come home to a house where there is no one to welcome her but theservants. If my mother can spare you, Sybilla, I wish you would stay. "

As once before, she lifted his hand to her lips. 

"Sybilla belongs to you, Sir Everard! Command, and she will obey. "

He laughed, but he also reddened as he drew his hand hastily away. 

"Oh, pooh! don't be melodramatic! There is no question of commandingand obeying about it. You are free to do as you please. If you chooseto remain, give Lady Kingsland proper notice. If you prefer to go, why, I must look out for some one to take your place. Don't be in ahurry--there's plenty of time to decide. "

He swung on and left her. 

"Plenty of time to decide, " she repeated, with a smile curling her thinlips. "My good Sir Everard, I decided long ago! Marry yourfox-hunting bride--bring her home. Sybilla Silver will be here towelcome her, never fear!"

The baronet stayed three weeks in England--then returned impatiently toParis. Of course the rapture of the meeting more than repaid the painof parting. 

She was growing more beautiful every day, the infatuated young manthought, over her books; and the sun of France shone on nothing half solovely as this tall, slender damsel, in her gray school uniform andprim, black silk apron. 

The summer went. Sir Everard was back and forth across the Channel, like an insane human pendulum, and the work went bravely on! Kingslandwas being transformed--the landscape gardeners and the Londonupholsterers had _carte blanche_, and it was the story of Aladdin'sPalace over again. Sir Everard rubbed his golden lamp, and, lo! mightygenii rose up and worked wonders. 

September came--the miracles ceased. Even money and men could do nomore. October came. 

Sir Everard's year of probation was expired. The Reverend Cyrus Greenovercame heroically his horror of seasickness and steamers, and went toParis in person for his ward. As plain Miss Hunsden, without ashilling to bless herself with, the Reverend Cyrus would not by anymeans have thought this extreme step necessary; but for the future LadyKingsland to travel alone was not for an instant to be thought of. Sohe went, and the first week of November he brought her home. 

Miss Hunsden--taller, more stately, more beautiful than ever--was verystill and sad, this first anniversary of her father's death. LadyKingsland, when she and Mildred called--for they did, of course--wasrather impressed by the stately girl in mourning, whose fair, proudface and calm, gray eyes met hers so unflinchingly. It was "Greekmeets Greek" here; neither would yield an inch. 

The wedding was to take place early in December--Sir Everard would notwait, and Harrie seemed to have no will left but his. Once she hadfeebly uttered some remonstrances, but he had imperatively cut hershort. 

So this young tyrant had everything his own way. The preparations werehurried on with amazing haste; the day was named, the bride-maids andguests bidden. 

Miss Hunsden's young lady friends were few and far between, and MildredKingsland and the rector's sister and twelve-year-old daughter were tocomprise the whole list. 

The wedding-day dawned--a sullen, overcast, threatening December day. A watery sun looked out of a lowering sky, and then retreatedaltogether, and a leaden dullness overspread the whole firmament. Anicy wind curdled your blood and tweaked your nose, and featherysnowflakes whirled drearily through the opaque gloom. 

The church was full, and silks rustled and bright eyes flashedinquisitively, and people wondered who that tall, foreign-lookingperson beside my lady might be. 

It was Sybilla Silver, gorgeous in golden silk, with her black eyeslighted with cruel, inward exultation, and who glared almost fiercelyupon the beautiful bride. 

My lady, magnificent in her superb disdain of all these childishproceedings, stood by and acknowledged in her heart of hearts that ifbeauty and grace be any excuse for folly, her son had those excuses. 

Lovely as a vision, with her pure, pale, passionless face, her clear, sweet eyes, Harriet Hunsden swept up the aisle in her rich bridalrobes, her floating lace, and virginal orange-blossoms. 

The bridegroom's eyes kindled with admiration and pride as he took hisplace by her side, he looking as noble and gallant a gentleman asEngland could boast. 

It was over--she was his wife! They had registered their names, theydrove back to the rectory, the congratulations offered, the breakfasteaten, the toast drunk. She was upstairs dressing for her journey; thecarriage and the bridegroom were waiting impatiently below. 

Mrs. Green hovered about her with matronly solicitude, and at the lastmoment Harriet flung herself impetuously upon her neck and broke outinto hysterical crying. 

"Forgive me!" she sobbed. "Oh, Mrs. Green, I never had a mother!"

Then she drew down her veil and ran out of the room before the goodwoman could speak. Sir Everard was waiting in the hall. He drew herhand under his arm and hurried her away. Mrs. Green got down-stairsonly in time to see her in the carriage. 

Then the bridegroom sprung lightly in beside her, the carriage doorclosed, the horses started, and the happy pair were off. 

 * * * * *

Sybilla Silver went back to the Court alone. My lady, in sullendignity, took her daughter and went straight to her jointure house atthe other extremity of the village. 

She stood in the confer of a lengthy suite of apartments--the new LadyKingsland's--opening one into the other in a long vista of splendor. She took a portrait out of her breast and gazed at it with brightlyglittering eyes. 

"A whole year has passed, my mother, " she said, slowly, "and nothinghas been done. But Sybilla will keep her oath. Sir Jasper Kingsland'sonly son shall meet his doom. It is through her I will strike; thatblow will be doubly bitter. Before this day twelvemonth these twoshall part more horribly than man and wife ever parted before!"

CHAPTER XVII. 

MR. PARMALEE'S LITTLE MYSTERY. 

Kingsland Court had from time immemorial been one of the show-places ofthe county, Thursday being always set apart as the visitors' day. 

The portly old housekeeper used to play cicerone, but the portly oldhousekeeper, growing portlier and older every day, got in time quiteunable to waddle up and down and pant out gasping explanations to thestrangers. 

So Miss Sybilla Silver, with her usual good nature, came to the rescue, got the history of the old house, and the old pictures, and cabinets, and curiosities, and suits of armor and things by heart, and took Mrs. Comfit's place. 

The first Thursday after the marriage of Sir Everard there camesauntering up to the Court, in the course of the afternoon, a tallyoung gentleman, smoking a cigar, and with his hands thrust deep in histrousers pockets. 

He was not only tall, but uncommonly tall, uncommonly lanky andloose-boned, and his clothes had the general air of being thrown onwith a pitchfork. 

He wore a redundance of jewelry, in the shape of a couple of yards ofwatch-chain, a huge seal ring on each little finger, and a flaringdiamond breastpin of doubtful quality. 

His clothes were light, his hair was light, his eyes were light. Hewas utterly devoid of hirsute appendages, and withal he was tolerablygood-looking and unmistakably wide awake. 

He threw away his cigar as he reached the house, and astonished theunderstrapper who admitted him by presenting his card with aflourishing bow. 

"Jest give that to the boss, my man, " said this personage, coolly. "Iunderstand you allow strangers to explore this old castle of your'n, and I've come quite a piece for that express purpose. "

The footman gazed at him, then at the card, and then sought out MissSilver. 

"Blessed if it isn't that 'Merican that's stopping at the Vine, andthat asked so many questions about Sir Everard and my lady, of Dawson, last night, " he said. 

Sybilla took the card curiously. It was a _bonâ-fide_ piece ofpasteboard, printed all over in little, stumpy capitals:

 GEORGE WASHINGTON PARMALEE, PHOTOGRAPHIC ARTIST, No. 1060 BROADWAY, UPSTAIRS. 

Miss Silver laughed. 

"The gentleman wants to see the house, does he? Of course he must seeit, then, Higgins. And he was asking questions of Dawson last night atthe inn?"

"'Eaps of questions, Miss Silver, as bold as brass, all about SirEverard and my lady--our young lady, you know. Shall I fetch him up?"

"Certainly. "

There chanced to be no other visitor at the Court, and Sybilla receivedMr. Parmalee with infinite smiles and condescension. 

"Beg your pardon, miss, " he said, politely; "sorry to put you to somuch trouble, but I calculated on seeing this old pile before I leftthese parts, and as they told me down at the tavern this was the day--"

"It is not the slightest trouble, I assure you, " Miss Silverinterposed. "I am only too happy to have a stranger come and break thequiet monotony of our life here. And, besides, it affords me doublepleasure to make the acquaintance of an American--a people I intenselyadmire. You are the first I ever had the happiness of meeting. "

"Want to know!" said Mr. Parmalee, in a tone betokening no earthlyemotion whatever. "It's odd, too. Plenty folks round our section comeacross; but I suppose they didn't happen along down here. Splendidplace this; fine growing land all round; but I see most of it is letrun wild. If all that there timber was cut down and the stumps burnedout and the ground turned into pasture, you hain't no idea what animprovement it would be. But you Britishers don't go in for progressand that sort of thing. This old castle, now--it's two hundred yearsold, I'll be bound!"

"More than that--twice as old. Will you come and look at the picturesnow? Being an artist, of course you will like to see the picturesfirst. "

Mr. Parmalee followed the young lady to the long picture-gallery, hishands still in his pockets, whistling softly to himself, and eyingeverything. 

"Must have cost a sight of money, all these fixings, " he remarked. "Iknow how them statues and busts reckons up. This here baronet must bea powerful rich man?"

"He is, " said Miss Silver, quietly. 

"Beg your pardon, miss, but air you one of the family?"

"No, sir. I am lady Kingsland's companion. "

"Oh, a domestic!" said Mr. Parmalee, as if to himself. "Who'd a'thought it? Lady Kingsland's companion? Which of 'em? There's two, ain't there?"

"Sir Everard's mother has left Kingsland Court. I am companion to SirEverard's wife. "

"Ah! jest so! Got married lately, didn't he! Might I ask your name, miss?"

"I am Sybilla Silver. "

"Thanky, " said Mr. Parmalee, with a satisfied nod. "So much easiergetting along when you know a person's name. Married a Miss Hunsden, didn't he--the baronet?"

"Yes. Miss Harriet Hunsden. "

"That's her. Lived with her pa, an old officer in the army, didn'tshe? Used to be over there in America?"

"Yes. Did you know her?"

"Wa-al, no, " replied Mr. Parmalee, with a queer sidelong look at thelady; "I can't say I did. They told me down to the tavern all aboutit. Handsome young lady, wasn't she? One of your tall-stepping, high-mettled sort?"

"Yes. "

"And her pa's dead, and he left her nothing? Was poor as achurch-mouse, that old officer, wasn't he?"

"Captain Hunsden had only his pay. "

"And they've gone off on a bridal tower? Now when do you expect themback?"

"In a month. Are you particularly desirous of seeing Sir Everard orLady Kingsland?" asked Sybilla, suddenly and sharply. 

"Well, yes, " he said, slowly, "I am. I'm collecting photographic viewsof all your principal buildings over here, and I'm going to ask SirEverard to let me take this place, inside and out. These rooms are themost scrumptious concerns I've seen lately, and the Fifth Avenue Hotelis some pumpkins, too. Oh, these are the pictures, are they? What ajolly lot!"

Mr. Parmalee became immediately absorbed by the hosts of dead-and-goneKingslands looking down from the oak-paneled walls. Miss Silverfluently gave him names, and dates, and histories. 

"Seems to me, " said Mr. Parmalee, "those old fellows didn't die intheir beds--many of 'em. What with battles, and duels, and hightreason, and sich, they all came to unpleasant ends. Where's thepresent Kingsland's?"

"Sir Everard's portrait is in the library. "

"And her ladyship--his wife?"

"We have no picture of Lady Kingsland as yet. "

Mr. Parmalee's inscrutable face told nothing--whether he wasdisappointed or not. He followed Miss Silver all over the house, saweverything worth seeing, and took the "hull concern, " as he expressedit, as a matter of course. 

"Should like to come again, " said Mr. Parmalee. "A fellow couldn't seeall that's worth seeing round here in less than a month. Might I stepup again to-morrow, Miss Silver?"

Miss Silver shook her head. 

"I'm afraid not. Thursday is visitors' day, and I dare not infringethe rules. You may come every Thursday while you stay, and meantimethe gardeners will show you over the grounds whenever you desire. Howlong do you remain, Mr. Parmalee?"

"That's oncertain, " replied the artist, cautiously. "Perhaps not long, perhaps longer. I'm much obliged to you, miss, for all the bother I'vemade you. "

"Not at all, " said Sybilla, politely. "I shall be happy at any time togive you any information in my power. "

"Thanky. Good-evening. "

The tall American swung off with long strides. The young lady watchedhim out of sight. 

"There is more in this than meets the eye, " she thought. "That manknows something of Harriet--Lady Kingsland. I'll cultivate him for mylady's sake. "

After that Mr. Parmalee and Miss Silver met frequently. In her walksto the village it got to be the regular thing for the American tobecome her escort. 

He was rather clever at pencil-drawing, and made numerous sketches ofthe house, and took the likenesses of all the servants. He even set upa photographic place down in the village, and announced himself readyto "take" the whole population at "half a dollar" a head. 

"There's nothing like making hay while the sun shines, " remarked Mr. Parmalee to himself. "I may as well do a little stroke of business, tokeep my hand in, while I wait for my lady. There ain't no telling howthis little speculation of mine may turn out, after all. "

So the weeks went by, and every Thursday found the American exploringthe house. He was a curious study to Sybilla as he went along, hishands invariably in his pockets, his hat pushed to the back of hishead, whistling softly and meditatively. 

Every day she became more convinced he knew something of HarrieHunsden's American antecedents, and every day she grew more gracious. But if Mr. Parmalee had his secrets, he knew how to keep them. 

"Can he ever have been a lover of hers in New York?" Sybilla askedherself. "I know she was there two years at school. "

But it seemed improbable. Harrie could not have been over thirteen orfourteen at the time. 

The honey-moon month passed--the January day that was to bring thehappy pair home arrived. In the golden sunset of a glorious winter daythe carriage rolled up the avenue, and Sir Everard handed LadyKingsland out. 

The long line of servants were drawn up in the hall, with Mrs. Comfitand Miss Silver at their head. High and happy as a young prince, SirEverard strode in among them, with his bride on his arm. Andshe--Sybilla Silver--set her teeth as she looked at her, so gloriouslyradiant in her wedded bliss. 

Mr. Parmalee, lounging among the trees, caught one glimpse of thatexquisite face as it flashed by. 

"By George! ain't she a stunner? Not a bit like t'other one, with herblack eyes and tarry hair. I've seen quadroon girls, down South, whiter than Miss Silver. And, what's more, she isn't a bit like--likethe lady in London, that she'd ought to look like. "

Sybilla saw very little of Sir Everard or his bride that evening. Butthe next morning, at breakfast, she broached the subject of Mr. Parmalee. 

"Wants to take photographic views of the place, does he?" said SirEverard, carelessly. "Is he too timid to speak for himself, Sybilla?"

"Mr. Parmalee is not in the least bashful. He merely labors under thedelusion that a petition proffered by me can not fail. "

"Oh, the fellow is welcome!" the baronet said, indifferently. "Let himamuse himself, by all means. If the views are good, I will have somemyself. "

Mr. Parmalee presented himself in the course of the day. 

Sir Everard received him politely in the library. 

"Most assuredly, Mr. --oh, Parmalee. Take the views, of course. I amglad you admire Kingsland. You have been making some sketches already, Miss Silver tells me. "

Miss Silver herself had ushered the gentleman in, and now stoodlingeringly by the door-way. My lady sat watching the ceaseless rainwith indolent eyes, holding a novel in her lap, and looking very sereneand handsome. 

"Well, yes, " Mr. Parmalee admitted, glancing modestly at the plethoricportfolio he carried under his arm. "Would your lordship mind taking alook at them? I've got some uncommon neat views of our Americanscenery, too--Mammoth Cave, Niagry Falls, White Mountains, and so on. Might help to pass a rainy afternoon. "

"Very true, Mr. Parmalee; it might. Let us see your American views, then. Taken by yourself, I presume?"

"Yes, sir!" responded the artist, with emphasis. "Every one of 'em;and done justice to. Look a-here!"

He opened his portfolio and spread his "views" out. 

Lady Kingsland arose with languid grace and crossed over. Her husbandseated her beside him with a loving smile. Her back was partly turnedto the American, whom she had met without the faintest shade ofrecognition. 

Sybilla Silver, eager and expectant of she knew not what, lingered andlooked likewise. 

The "views" were really very good, and there was an abundance ofthem--White Mountain and Hudson River scenery, Niagara, Nahant, Southern and Western scenes. Then he produced photographic portraitsof all the American celebrities--presidents, statesmen, authors, actors, and artists. 

Mr. Parmalee watched her from under intent brows as she took themdaintily up in her slender, jeweled fingers one by one. 

"I have a few portraits here, " he said, after a pause, "painted onivory, of American ladies remarkable for their beauty. Here they are. "

He took out five, presenting them one by one to Sir Everard. He hadnot presumed to address Lady Kingsland directly. The first was alittle Southern quadroon; the second a bright-looking young squaw. 

"These are your American ladies, are they? Pretty enough to be ladies, certainly. Look, Harrie! Isn't that Indian face exquisite?"

He passed them to his wife. The third was an actress, the fourth a_danseuse_. All were beautiful. With the last in his hand, Mr. Parmalee paused, and the first change Sybilla had ever seen cross hisface crossed it then. 

"This one I prize most of all, " he said, speaking slowly anddistinctly, and looking furtively at my lady. "This lady's story wasthe saddest story I ever beard. "

Sybilla looked eagerly across the baronet's shoulder for a second. Itwas a lovely face, pure and child-like, with great, innocent blue eyesand wavy brown hair--the face of a girl of sixteen. 

"It is very pretty, " the baronet said, carelessly, and passed it to hiswife. 

Lady Kingsland took it quite carelessly. The next instant she hadturned sharply around and looked Mr. Parmalee full in the face. 

The American had evidently expected it, for he had glanced awayabruptly, and begun hustling his pictures back into his portfolio. Sybilla could see he was flushed dark red. She turned to my lady. Shewas deathly pale. 

"Did you paint those portraits, too?" she asked, speaking for the firsttime. 

"No, marm--my lady, I mean. I collected these as curiosities. One of'em--the one you're looking at--was given me by the original herself. "

The picture dropped from my lady's hand as if it had been red-hot. Mr. Parmalee bounded forward and picked it up with imperturbable _sangfroid_. 

"I value this most of all my collection. I know the lady well. Iwouldn't lose it for any amount of money. "

My lady arose abruptly and walked to the window, and the hue of herface was the hue of death. Sybilla Silver's glittering eyes went fromface to face. 

"I reckon I'll be going now, " Mr. Parmalee remarked. "The rain seemsto hold up a little. I'll be along to-morrow, Sir Everard, to takethose views. Much obliged to you for your kindness. Good-day. "

He glanced furtively at the stately woman by the window, standing stillas if turning to stone. But she neither looked nor moved nor spoke. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

IN THE PICTURE-GALLERY. 

Mr. Parmalee, true to his promise, presented himself at the earliestadmissible hour next day with all the apparatus of his art. 

So early was it, indeed, that Sybilla was just pouring out the baronet'sfirst cup of tea, while he leisurely opened the letters the morning mailhad brought. 

Lady Kingsland complained of a bad headache, her husband said, and wouldnot leave her room until dinner. 

Sir Everard made this announcement, quietly opening his letters. Sybilla looked at him with gleaming eyes. The time had come for her tobegin to lay her train. 

My lady had ascended to her room immediately upon the departure of theAmerican, the preceding day, and had been invisible ever since. Thatconvenient feminine excuse, headache, had accounted for it, but SybillaSilver knew better. She had expected her to breakfast this morning, andshe began to think Mr. Parmalee's little mystery was more of a mysterythan even she had dreamed. The man's arrival gave her her cue. 

"Our American friend is a devotee of art, it seems, " she said, with alight laugh. "He lets no grass grow under his feet. I had no easy taskto restrain his artistic ardor during your absence. I never knew suchan inquisitive person, either; he did nothing but ask questions. "

"A national trait, " Sir Everard responded, with a shrug. "Americans areall inquisitive, which accounts for their go-aheadativeness, I dare say. "

"Mr. Parmalee's questions took a very narrow range; they only comprisedone subject--you and my lady. "

The young baronet looked up in haughty amaze. 

"His curiosity on this subject was insatiable; your most minutebiography would not have satisfied him. About Lady Kingslandparticularly--in point of fact, I thought he must have known her in NewYork, his questions were so pointed, and I asked him so directly. "

"And what did he say?"

"Oh, he said no, " replied Sybilla, lightly, "but in such a manner as ledme to infer yes. However, it was evident, yesterday, that my lady hadnever set eyes on him before; but I did fancy, for an instant, shesomehow recognized that picture. "

"What picture?" asked the baronet, sharply. 

"That last portrait he showed her, " Miss Silver answered. "Yet that mayhave been only fancy, too. "

"Then, Miss Silver, have the goodness to indulge in no more suchfancies. I don't care to hear your suspicions and surmises, and I don'tchoose to have my wife so minutely watched. As for this too inquisitiveYankee, he had better cease his questions, if he wishes to quit Englandwith sound bones!"

He arose angrily from the table, swept his letters together, and leftthe room. But his face wore a deep-red flush, and, his bent brows neverrelaxed. The first poisonous suspicion had entered his mind, and thecalm of perfect trust would never reign there again. 

Sybilla gazed after him with her dark, evil smile. 

"Fume and fret as you please, my dear Sir Everard, but this is onlysowing the first seed. I shall watch your wife, and I will tell you mysuspicions and my fancies, and you will listen in spite of your upliftedsublimity now. Jealousy is ingrained in your nature, though you do notknow it, and a very little breath will fan the tiny coal into aninextinguishable flame. "

She arose, rang the bell for the servant to clear the table, shook outher black silk robe, and went, with a smile on her handsome face, to dothe fascinating to Mr. Parmalee. 

She found that cautious gentleman busily arranging his implements in thepicture-gallery, preparatory to taking sundry views of the noble room. He nodded gravely to the young lady, and went steadfastly on with hiswork. 

"You certainly lose no time, Mr. Parmalee, " Miss Silver said. "I wasremarking to Sir Everard at breakfast that you were a perfect devotee ofart. "

"How does the baronet find himself this morning?" he asked. 

"As usual--well. "

"And her ladyship?" very carelessly. 

"Her ladyship is not well. I'm afraid your pretty pictures disagreedwith her, Mr. Parmalee. "

"Hey?" said the artist, with a sharp, suspicious stare. 

"She was perfectly well until you showed them to her. She has been illever since. One must draw one's own inference. "

Mr. Parmalee busied himself some five minutes in profound silence. Then--

"Where is she to-day? Ain't she about?"

"No. I told you she was ill. She complained of headache after you leftyesterday, and went up to her own room. I have not seen her since. "

Mr. Parmalee began to whistle a negro melody, and still wentindustriously on with his work. 

"I don't think nothing of that, " he remarked, after a prolonged pause. "Fine ladies all have headaches. Knowed heaps of 'em to home--all hadit. You have yourself sometimes, I guess. "

"No, " said Sybilla; "I'm not a fine lady. I have no time to shamheadaches, and I have no secrets to let loose. I am only a fine lady'scompanion, and all the world is free to know my history. "

And then Miss Silver looked at Mr. Parmalee, and Mr. Parmalee looked atMiss Silver, with the air of two accomplished duelists waiting for theword. 

"He's as sharp as a razor, " thought the lady, "and as shy as apartridge. Half measures won't do with him. I must fight him on hisown ground. "

"By jingo! she's as keen as a catamount!" thought the gentleman, in aburst of admiration. "She'll be a credit to the man that marries her. What a pity she don't belong down to Maine. She's a sight too cute fora born Britisher. "

There was a long pause. Miss Silver and Mr. Parmalee looked each otherfull in the eye without winking. All at once the gentleman burst outlaughing. 

"Get out!" said Mr. Parmalee. "Go 'long--do! You're too smart for thisworld--you are, by gosh! Miss Sybilla Silver. "

"Almost smart enough for a Yankee, Mr. Parmalee, and wonderfully good atguessing. "

"Yes? And what have you guessed this time?"

"That you have Lady Kingsland's secret; that that portrait--the last ofthe five--is the clew. That you hold the baronet's bride in the hollowof your hand!"

She spoke the last words close to his ear, in a fierce, sibilantwhisper. The American actually recoiled. 

"Go 'long!" repeated Mr. Parmalee. "Don't you go whistling in afellow's ear like that, Miss S. ; it tickles. Got any more to say?"

"Only this: that you had better make a friend of me, Mr. Parmalee. "

"And if I don't, Miss S. ? If I prefer to do as we do in euchre, 'go italone'--what then?"

"Then!" cried Sybilla, with a blaze of her black eyes, "I'll take thegame out of your hands. I'll foil you with your own weapons. I neverfailed yet. I'll not fail now. I'm a match for a dozen such as you!"

"I believe, in my soul, you are!" exclaimed the artist, in a burst ofadmiring enthusiasm. "You're the real grit, and no mistake. I doadmire spunky girls--I do, by jingo! I always thought if I married andfetched a Mrs. George Washington Parmalee down to Maine, she'd have tobe something more than common. And you're not common, Miss S. --not by along chalk! I never met your match in my life. "

"No?" said Sybilla, "not even 'down to Maine?'"

"No, by George! and we raise the smartest kind of girls there. Now, Miss Silver, supposing we go partners in this here concern, would you bewilling to go partners with a fellow for life? I never thought to marryan English woman, but I'll marry you to-morrow, if you'll have me. Whatd'ye say? Is it a go?"

"You don't mean it, Mr. Parmalee?" as soon as she could speak. 

"I do!" said Mr. Parmalee, with emphasis. "Laugh, if you like. It'skind of sudden, I suppose, but I've had a hankering after you this sometime. You're a right smart kind of girl, and jest my style, and I likeyou tip-top. The way you can roll up them black eyes of yours at afellow is a caution to rattlesnakes. Say, is it a go?"

Sybilla turned away. Her dark cheeks reddened. There was a moment'shesitation, then she turned back and extended her hand. 

"You are not very romantic, Mr. Parmalee. You don't ask me for my love, or any of that sentimental nonsense, " with a laugh. "And you reallymean it--you really mean to make Lady Kingsland's poor companion yourwife?"

"Never meant anything more in my life. It is a go, then?"

"I will marry you, Mr. Parmalee, if you desire it. "

"And you won't go back on a fellow?" asked Mr. Parmalee, suspiciously. "You're not fooling me just to get at this secret, are you?"

Sybilla drew away her hand with an offended air. 

"Think better of me, Mr. Parmalee! I may be shrewd enough to guess atyour secret without being base enough to tell a deliberate lie to knowit. I could find it out by easier means. "

"I don't know about that, " said the artist, coolly. "It ain't likelyLady Kingsland would tell you, and you couldn't get it out of me, youknow, if you was twice as clever, unless I chose. But I want you tohelp me. A man always gets along better in these little underhandmatters when he's got a woman going partners with him. I want to see mylady. I want to send her a note all unbeknown to the baronet. "

"I'll deliver it, " said Sybilla, "and if she chooses to see you, I willmanage that Sir Everard will not intrude. "

"She'll see me fast enough. I thought she'd want to see me herselfbefore this, but it appears she's inclined to hold out; so I'll drop hera hint in writing. If the mountain won't come to what's-his-name--youknow what I mean, Miss Silver. I suppose I may call you Sybilla now?"

"Oh, undoubtedly, Mr. Parmalee! But for the present don't youthink--just to keep people's tongues quiet, you know--had we not betterkeep this little private compact to ourselves? I don't want thegossiping servants of the house to gossip in the kitchen about you andme. "

"Just as you please. I don't care a darn for their gossiping, though. And now about that little note. I want to see my lady before I explainthings to you, you know. "

"And why? You don't intend to tell her I am to be taken into yourconfidence, I suppose?"

"Not much!" said Mr. Parmalee, emphatically. "Never you mind, Sybilla. Before you become Mrs. P. , you'll know it all safe enough. I'll writeit at once. "

He took a stumpy lead-pencil from his pocket, tore a leaf out of hispocket-book, and wrote these words:

MY LADY, --You knew the picture, and I know your secret. Should like tosee you, if convenient, soon. That person is in London waiting to hearfrom me. 

 Your most obedient, G. W. PARMALEE. 

The photographer handed the scrawl to Sybilla. 

"Read it. "

"Well?" she said, taking it all in at a glance. 

"Give her this. She'll see me before I leave this house, or I'm muchmistaken. She's a very proud lady, this baronet's bride; but for allthat she'll obey G. W. Parmalee's orders, or he'll know the reason why. "

CHAPTER XIX. 

MISS SILVER PLAYS HER FIRST CARD. 

It was all very well for Sir Everard Kingsland to ride his high horsein the presence of Miss Sybilla Silver, and superbly rebuke hersuspicions of his wife, but her words had planted their sting, nevertheless. 

He loved his beautiful, imperious, gray-eyed wife with so absorbing andintense a love that the faintest doubt of her was torture inexpressible. 

"I remember it all now, " he said to himself, setting his teeth; "shewas agitated at sight of that picture. She turned, with the strangestlook in her face I ever saw there, to the American, and rose abruptlyfrom the table immediately after. She has not been herself since; shehas not once left her room. Is she afraid of meeting that man? Isthere any secret in her life that he shares? What do I know of herpast life, save that she has been over the world with her father? GoodHeaven! if she and this man should have a secret between them, afterall!"

The cold drops actually stood on his brow at the thought. The fierce, indomitable pride of his haughty race and the man's own inward jealousymade the bare suspicion agony. But a moment after, and with a suddenimpulse of generous love, he recoiled from his own thoughts. 

"I am a wretch, " he thought, "a traitor to the best and most beautifulof brides, to harbor such an unworthy idea! What! shall I doubt mydarling girl because Sybilla Silver thinks she recognized thatportrait, or because an inquisitive stranger chooses to ask questions?No! I could stake my life on her perfect truth--my own dear wife. "

Impulsively he turned to go; at once he must seek her, and set everydoubt at rest. He ascended rapidly to her room and softly tapped atthe door. There was no answer. He knocked again; still no response. He turned the handle and went in. 

She was asleep. Lying on a sofa, among a heap of pillows, arrayed in awhite dressing-gown, her profuse dark hair all loose and disordered, Lady Kingsland lay, so profoundly sleeping that her husband's knockinghad not disturbed her. Her face was as white as her robe, and hereyelashes were wet, as though she had cried herself to sleep like achild. 

"My love! my darling!" He knelt beside her and kissed herpassionately. "And to think that for one second I was base enough todoubt you! My beautiful, innocent darling, slumbering here, like avery child! No earthly power shall ever sunder you and me!"

A pair of deriding black eyes flashed upon him through the partly opendoor--a pair of greedy ears drank in the softly murmured words. Sybilla Silver, hastening along with the artist's little note, hadcaught sight of the baronet entering his wife's room. She tappeddiscreetly at the door, with the twisted note held conspicuously in herhand. 

Sir Everard arose and opened it, and Miss Silver's sudden recoil wasthe perfection of confusion and surprise. 

"I beg your pardon, Sir Everard. My lady is--is she not here?"

"Lady Kingsland is asleep. Do you wish to deliver that note?"

With a second gesture of seeming confusion, Sybilla hid the hand whichheld it in the folds of her dress. 

"Yes--no--it doesn't matter. It can wait, I dare say. He didn'tmention being in a hurry. "

"He! Of whom are you speaking, Sybilla?"

"I--I chanced to pass through the picture-gallery five minutes ago, SirEverard, and Mr. Parmalee asked me to do him the favor of handing thisnote to my lady. "

Sir Everard Kingsland's face was the face of a man utterly confounded. 

"Mr. Parmalee asked you to deliver that note to Lady Kingsland?" heslowly repeated. "What under heaven can he have to write to my ladyabout?"

"I really don't know, Sir Everard, " rejoined Sybilla, "I only know heasked me to deliver it. He had been looking for my lady's maid, Ifancy, in vain. It is probably something about his tiresome pictures. Will you please to take it, Sir Everard, or shall I wait until my ladyawakes?"

"You may leave it. "

He spoke the words mechanically, quite stunned by the overwhelming factthat this audacious photographic person dared to write to his wife. Miss Silver passed him, placed the twisted paper on one of the inlaidtables, and left the room with a triumphant light in her deriding-blackeyes. 

"I have trumped my first trick, " Sybilla thought, as she walked away, "and I fancy the game will be all my own shortly. Sir Everard willopen and read Mr. Parmalee's little _billet-doux_ the instant he isalone. "

But just here Sybilla was mistaken. Sir Everard did not open thetempting twisted note. He glanced at it once as it lay on the table, but he made no attempt to take it. 

"She will show it to me when she awakes, " he said, with compressedlips, "and then I will have this impertinent Yankee kicked from thehouse. "

He sat beside her, watching her while she slept, with a face quitecolorless between conflicting love and torturing doubt. 

Nearly an hour passed before Harriet awoke. The great dark eyes openedin wide surprise at sight of that pale, intense face bending sodevotedly over her. 

"You here, Everard?" she said. "How long have I been asleep? How longhave you been here?"

"Over an hour, Harrie. "

"So long? I had no idea of going asleep when I lay down; but my headached with a dull, hopeless pain, and--What is that?"

She had caught sight of the note lying on the table. 

"You will scarcely believe it, but that stranger--that Americanartist--has had the impertinence to address that note to you. SybillaSilver brought it here. Shall I ring for your maid and send it backunopened, and order him out of the house for his pains?"

"No!" said Harriet, impetuously. "I must read it. "

She snatched it up, tore it open, and, walking over to the window, readthe scrawl. 

"Harriet!"

She turned slowly round at her name spoken by her husband as thatadoring husband had never spoken it before. 

"Give me that note. "

He held out his hand. She crushed it firmly in her own, looking himstraight in the eyes. 

"I can not. "

"You can not?" he repeated, slowly, deathly pale. "Do I understand youaright, Harriet? Remember, I left that note untouched while you slept. No man has a right to address a note to my wife that I may not see. Show me that paper, Harriet. "

"It is nothing"--she caught her breath in a quick, gasping, affrightedway as she said it--"it is nothing, Everard! Don't ask me!"

"If it is nothing, I may surely see it. Harriet, I command you! Showme that note!"

The eyes of Captain Hunsden's daughter inflamed up fierce and bright atsound of that imperious word command. 

"And I don't choose to be commanded--not if you were my king as well asmy husband. You shall never see it now!"

There was a wood-fire leaping up on the marble hearth. 

She flung the note impetuously as she spoke into the midst of theflames. One bright jet of flame, and it was gone. 

Husband and wife stood facing each other, he deathly white, she flushedand defiant. 

"And this is the woman I loved--the wife I trusted--my bride of oneshort month. "

He had turned to quit the room, but two impetuous arms were around hisneck, two impulsive lips covering his face with penitent, imploringkisses. 

"Forgive me--forgive me!" Harriet cried. "My dear, my true, mycherished husband! Oh, what a wicked, ungrateful creature I am! Whata wretch you must think me! And I can not--I can not--I can not tellyou. "

She broke out suddenly into a storm of hysterical crying, clinging tohis neck. 

He took her in his arms, sat down with her on the sofa, and let her sobherself still. 

"And now, Harriet, " he said, when the hysterical sobs were hushed, "whois this man, and what is he to you?"

"He is nothing to me--less than nothing! I hate him!"

"Where did you know him before?"

"Know him before?" She sat up and looked him half angrily in the face. "I never knew him before! I never set eyes on him until I saw himhere. "

Sir Everard drew a long breath of relief. No one could doubt hertruth, and his worst suspicion was at rest. 

"Then what is this secret between you two? For there is a secret, Harriet. "

"There is. "

"What is it, Harriet?"

"I can not tell you. "

"Harriet!"

"I can not. " She turned deathly white as she said it. "Never, Everard! There is a secret, but a secret I can never reveal, even toyou. Don't ask me--don't! If you ever loved me, try and trust me now!"

There was a blank pause. She tried to clasp him, but he held hersternly off. 

"One question more: You knew this secret before you married me?"

"I did. "

"For how long?"

"For a year. "

"And that picture the American showed you is a picture you know. "

She looked up at him, a wild startled light in her great gray eyes. 

"How do you know that?"

"I am answered, " he said. "I see I am right. Once more, LadyKingsland, " his voice cold and clear, "you refuse to tell me?"

"I must. Oh, Everard, for pity's sake, trust me! I can not tellyou--I dare not!"

"Enough, madame! Your accomplice shall!"

He turned to go. She made a step between him and the door. 

"What are you going to do? Tell me, for I will know!"

"I am going to the man who shares your guilty secret, madame; and, bythe Heaven above us, I'll have the truth out of him if I have to tearit from his throat! Out of my way, before I forget you are a woman andstrike you down at my feet!"

She staggered back, with a low cry, as if he had struck her indeed. Hestrode past, his eyes flashing, his face livid with jealous rage, straight to the picture-gallery. 

A door at the opposite side of the corridor stood ajar. SybillaSilver's listening cars heard the last fierce words, Sybilla Silver'sglittering black eyes saw that last passionate gesture of repulsion. She saw Harriet, Lady Kingsland--the bride of a month--sink down on theoaken floor, quivering in anguish from head to foot; and her tall formseemed to tower and dilate with diabolical delight. 

"Not one year, " she cried to her exultant heart--"not one month will Ihave to wait for my revenge! Lie there, poor fool! and suffer and die, for what I care, while I go and prevent your madly jealous husband frombraining my precious fiancé. There is to be blood on the hands and thebrand of Cain on the brow of the last of the Kingslands, or my oathwill not be kept; but it must not be the ignoble blood of GeorgeWashington Parmalee!"

CHAPTER XX. 

MR. PARMALEE SWEARS VENGEANCE. 

Sir Everard strode straight to the picture-gallery, his face pale, hiseyes flashing, his hands clinched. 

His step rang like steel along the polished oaken floor, and there wasan ominous compression of his thin lips that might have warned Mr. Parmalee of the storm to come. But Mr. Parmalee was squinting throughhis apparatus at a grim, old warrior on the wall, and only just glancedup to nod recognition. 

"Morning, Sir Everard!" said the artist, pursuing his work. "Fine dayfor our business--uncommon spring-like. You've got a gay old lot ofancestors here, and ancestresses; and stunningly handsome some of 'emis, too. "

"Spare your compliments, sir, " said the baronet, in tones of suppressedrage, "and spare me your presence here for the future altogether! Thesooner you pack your traps and leave this, the surer you will be offinding yourself with a sound skin. "

"Hey?" cried Mr. Parmalee, astounded. "What in thunder do you mean?"

"I mean that I order you out of my house this instant, and that I'llbreak every bone in your villainous carcass if ever I catch you insidemy gates again!"

The artist dropped his tools and stood blankly staring. 

"By ginger! Why, Sir Everard Kingsland, I don't understand this here!You told me yourself I might come here and take the pictures. I callthis doosed unhandsome treatment--I do, going back on a feller likethis!"

"You audacious scoundrel!" roared the enraged young lord of Kingsland, "how dare you presume to answer me? How dare you stand there and lookme in the face? If I called my servants and made them lash you outsidethe gates, I would only serve you right! You low-bred, impertinentruffian, how dare you write to my wife?"

"Whew!" he whistled, long and shrill, "that's it, is it? Look here, Sir Everard, don't you get so tearin' mad all for nothing. I didn'twrite no disrespect to her ladyship--I didn't, by Jupiter! I jest hada little request to make, and if I could have seen her ladyship Iwouldn't have writ at all, but she kept out of my way, and--"

"You scoundrel!" cried the passionate young baronet, white with fury, "do you mean to say my wife kept out of your way--was afraid of you?"

"Exactly so, squire, " replied the imperturbable foreigner. "She must'a' known I had something to say to her yesterday when I---- Well, sheknowed it, and she kept out of my way--I say it again. "

"And you dare tell me there is a secret between my wife and you? Areyou not afraid I will throw you out of yonder window?"

Mr. Parmalee drew himself stiffly up. 

"Not if I know myself! That is a game two can play at. As for thesecret, " with a sudden sneer, "I ain't no desire to keep it a secret ifyour wife ain't. Ask her, Sir Everard, and if she's willing to tellyou, I'm sartin I am. But I don't think she will, by gosh!"

The sneering mockery of the last taunt was too much for the fiery youngprince of Kingsland. With the yell of an enraged tiger he sprung uponMr. Parmalee, hurled him to the ground in a twinkling, and twisted hisleft hand into Mr. Parmalee's blue cotton neckerchief, showering blowswith his right fast and furious. 

The attack was so swift and savage that Mr. Parmalee lay perfectlystunned and helpless, turning unpleasantly black in the face, his eyesstaring, the blood gushing. 

Kneeling on his fallen foe, with fiery face and distended eyes, SirEverard looked for the moment an incarnate young demon. It flashedupon him, swift as lightning, in his sudden madness, what he was about. 

"I'll murder him if I stay here, " he thought; and as the thoughtcrossed his mind, with a shriek and a swish of silk, in rushed MissSilver and flung herself between them. 

"Good Heaven! Sir Everard, have you gone mad? In mercy's name, stopbefore you have quite murdered him!"

"Dog--cur!" he cried. "Get up and quit my house, or, by the livinglight above us, I'll blow your brains out as I would a mad hound's!"

He swung round and strode out of the picture-gallery, and slowly, slowly arose the prostrate hero, with bloody face and blackened eyes. 

"Get up, Mr. Parmalee, " she said, "and go away at once. The woman atthe lodge will give you soap and water and a towel, and you can makeyourself decent before entering the village. If you don't hurry you'llneed a guide. Your eyes are as large as bishop pippins, and closingfast now. "

She nearly laughed again, as she assisted her slaughtered betrothed tohis feet Mr. Parmalee wiped the blood out of his eyes and lookeddizzily about him. 

"Where is he?" he gasped. 

"Sir Everard? He has gone, I believe he would have killed you outrightonly I came in and tore him off. What on earth did you say toinfuriate him so?"

"I say?" exclaimed the artist, fiercely. "I said nothing, and you knowit. It was you, you confounded Delilah, you mischief-making deceiver, who showed him that air note!"

"I protest I did nothing of the sort!" cried Sybilla, indignantly. "Hewas in my lady's room when I entered, and he saw the note in my hand. She was asleep, and I tried to escape and take the note with me, but heordered me to leave it and go. Of course I had to obey. If he readit, it was no fault of mine; but I don't believe he did. You have noright to blame me, Mr. Parmalee. "

"I'll be even with him for this, the insulting young aristocrat! I'llnot spare him now! I'll spread the news far and wide; the very birdsin the trees shall sing it, the story of his wife's shame! I'll lowerthat cursed pride of his before another month is over his head, andI'll have his handsome wife on her knees to me, as sure as my name'sParmalee! He knocked me down, and he beat me to a jelly, did he? andhe ordered me out of his house; and he'll shoot me like a mad dog, willhe? But I'll be even with him; I'll fix him off! I'll make him repentthe day he ever lifted his hand to G. W. Parmalee!"

"So you shall. I like to hear you talk like that. You're a gloriousfellow, George, and Sybilla will help you; for, listen"--she came closeand hissed the words in a venomous whisper--"I hate Sir EverardKingsland and all his race, and I hate his upstart wife, with her highand mighty airs, and I would see them both dead at my feet with all thepleasure in life!"

"You get out!" rejoined Mr. Parmalee, recoiling and clapping his handto his ear. "I told you before, Sybilla, not to whistle in a fellow'sear like that. It goes through a chap like cold steel. As to yourhating them, I believe in my soul you hate most people; and women likeyou, with big, flashing black eyes, are apt to be uncommon good haters, too. But what have they done to you? I always took 'em to be goodfriends to you, my girl. "

"You have read the fable, Mr. Parmalee, of the man who found the frozenadder, and who warmed and cherished it in his bosom, until he restoredit to life? Well, Sir Everard found me, homeless, friendless, penniless, and he took me with him, and fed me, clothed me, protectedme, and treated me like a sister. The adder in the fable stung itspreserver to death. I, Mr. Parmalee, if you ever feel inclined topoison Sir Everard, will mix the potion and hold the bowl, and watchhis death-throes!"

"Go along with you!" said the American, beginning to collect his traps. "You're a bad one, you are. I don't like such lingo--I don't, byGeorge! I never took you for an angel, but I vow I didn't think youwere the cantankerous little toad you are! I don't set up to be asaint myself, and if a man knocks me down and pummels my innards outfor nothin', I calculate to fix his flint, if I can; but you--shoo!you're a little devil on airth, and that's my opinion of you. "

"With such a complimentary opinion of me, then, Mr. Parmalee, I presumeour late partnership is dissolved?"

"Nothing of the sort! I like grit, and if you've got rayther more thanyour share, why, when you're Mrs. Parmalee it will be amusing to takeit out of you. And now I'm off, and by all that's great and glorious, there'll be howling and gnashing of teeth in this here old shop beforeI return. "

"You go without seeing my lady, then?" said Sybilla. 

"My lady's got to come to me!" retorted the artist, sullenly. "It'sher turn to eat humble pie now, and she'll finish the dish, by George, before I've done with her! I'm going back to the tavern, down thevillage, and so you can tell her; and if she wants me, she can put herpride in her pocket and come there and find me. "

"And I, too?" said Sybilla, anxiously. "Remember your promise toreveal all to me, George. Am I to seek you out at the inn, too, andawait your sovereign pleasure?"

She laid her hands on his shoulders and looked up in his face with eyesfew men could resist. They were quite alone in the vast hall--noprying eyes to see that tender caress. Mr. Parmalee was a good deal ofa stoic and a little of a cynic; but he was flesh and blood, as evenstoics and cynics are, and the man under sixty was not born who couldhave resisted that dark, bewitching, wheedling, beautiful face. 

The American artist took her in his long arms with a vigorous hug, andfavored her with a sounding kiss. 

"I'll tell you, Sybilla. Hanged if I don't believe you can twist meround your little finger if you choose! You're as pretty as apicture--you are, I swear and I love you like all creation; and I'llmarry you just as soon as this little business is settled, and I'lltake you to Maine, and keep you in the tallest sort of clover. I nevercalk'lated on having a British gal for a wife; but you're handsomeenough and spunky enough for a president's lady, and I don't care adarn what the folks round our section say about it. I'll tell you, Sybilla; but you mustn't split to a living soul, or my cake's dough. They say a woman can't keep a secret; but you must try, if you shouldburst for it. I reckon my lady will come down handsomely before I'vedone with her, and you and me, Sybilla, can go to housekeeping acrossthe three thousand miles of everlasting wet in tip-top style. Cometo-night; you've got to come to me now. "

"I suppose I will find you at the inn?"

"I suppose so. 'Tain't likely, " said Mr. Parmalee, with a sulky senseof injury, "you'll find me prancing up and down the village with thishere face. I'll get the old woman to do it up in brown paper andvinegar when I go home, and I'll stay abed and smoke until dark. Youwon't come afore dark, wilt you?"

"No; I don't want to be recognized; and you must be prepared to comeout with me when I do. I'll disguise myself. Ah! suppose I disguisemyself in men's clothes? You won't mind, will you?"

"By gosh! no, if you don't. Men's clothes! What a rum one you are, Miss Silver? Doosed good-looking little feller you'll make. But whyare you so skeery about it?"

"Why? Need you ask? Would Sir Everard permit me to remain in hishouse one hour if he suspected I was his enemy's friend? Have you anymessage to deliver to my lady before we part?"

"No. She'll send a message to me during the day, or I'm mistaken. Ifshe don't, why, I'll send one back with you to-night. By-bye, Mrs. Parmalee that is to be. Take care of yourself until to-night. "

The gentleman walked down the stair-way alone toward a side entrance. The lady stood on the landing above, looking after him with a bitter, sneering smile. 

"Mrs. Parmalee, indeed! You blind, conceited fool! Twist you round mylittle finger, can I? Yes, you great, hulking simpleton, and ten timesbetter men! Let me worm your secret out of you--let me squeeze mysponge dry, and then see how I'll fling you into your native gutter!"

Mr. Parmalee, on his way out, stopped at the pretty rustic lodge andbathed his swollen and discolored visage. The lodge-keeper's wife wasall sympathy and questions. How on earth did it happen?

"Run up against the 'lectric telegraph, ma'am, " replied Mr. Parmalee, sulkily; "and there was a message coming full speed, and it knocked meover. Morning. Much obliged. "

He walked away. Outside the gates he paused and shook his clinchedfist menacingly at the noble old house. 

"I'll pay you out, my fine feller, if ever I get a chance! You're avery great man, and a very proud man, Sir Everard Kingsland, and youown a fine fortune and a haughty, handsome wife, and G. W. Parmalee'sno more than the mud under your feet. Very well--we'll see! 'Everydog has his day, ' and 'the longest lane has its turning, ' and you'renear about the end of your tether, and George Parmalee has you and yourfine lady under his thumb--under his thumb--and he'll crush you, sir--yes, by Heaven, he'll crush you, and strike you back blow forblow!"

True to his word, ho ordered unlimited supplies of brown paper andvinegar, rum and water, pipes and tobacco, swore at his questioners, and adjourned to his bedroom to await the coming of nightfall andSybilla Silver. 

The short winter day wore on. A good conscience, a sound digestion, rum and smoke _ad libitum_, enabled our wounded artist to sleepcomfortably through it, and he was still snoring when Mrs. Wedge, thelandlady, came to his bedside with a flaring tallow candle, and wokehim up. 

"Which I've been a-knockin' and a-knockin', " Mrs. Wedge cried, shrilly, "fit to knock the skin off my blessed knuckles, Mr. Parmalee, andcouldn't wake you no more'n the dead. And he's a-waitin' down-stairs, which he won't come up, but says it's most particular, and must see youat once. "

"Hold your noise!" growled the artist, tumbling out of bed. "What'so'clock? Leave that candle and clear out, and tell the young fellerI'll be down in a brace of shakes. "

"I couldn't see him, " replied Mrs. Wedge, "which he's that muffled upin a long cloak and a cap drawed down that his own mother herselfcouldn't tell him hout there in the dark. Was you a-expectin' of him, sir?"

"That's no business of yours, Mrs. Wedge, " the American answered, grimly. "You can go. "

Mrs. Wedge departed in displeasure, and tried again to see the muffledstranger. But he was looking out into the darkness, and the goodlandlady was completely baffled. 

She saw her lodger join him; she saw the hero of the cloak take hisarm, and both walk briskly away. 

"By George! this is a disguise!" exclaimed Mr. Parmalee. "I wouldn'trecognize you at noonday in this trim. Do you know who I took you foruntil you spoke?"

"Whom?"

"Sir Everard himself. You're as like him as two peas in that rig, onlynot so tall. "

"The cloak and cap are his, " Miss Silver answered, "which perhapsaccounts--"

"No, " he said, "there's more than that. I might put on that cap andcloak, but I wouldn't look like the baronet. Your voices sound alike, and there's a general air--I can't describe it, but you know what Imean. You're no relation of his, are you, Sybilla?"

"A relation of the Prince of Kingsland--poor little Sybilla Silver! Mygood Mr. Parmalee, what an absurd idea! You do me proud even to hintthat, the blue blood of all the Kingslands could by any chance flow inthese plebeian veins! Oh, no, indeed! I am only an upper servant inthat great house, and would lose my place within the hour if its lordlymaster dreamed I was here talking to the man he hates. "

"And my lady, any news from her?"

"Not a word. She came down to dinner beautifully dressed, but white asthe snow lying yonder. She and Sir Everard dined _tête-à-tête_. Itake my meals with the housekeeper, now, " smiling bitterly. "My LadyHarriet doesn't like me. The butler told me they did not speak sixwords during the whole time of dinner. "

"Both in the sulks, " said Mr. Parmalee. "Well, it's natural. He'sdying to know, and she'll be torn to pieces afore she breathes a word. She's that sort. But this shyin' and holding off won't do with me. I'm getting tired of waiting, and--and so's another party up to London. Tell her so, Sybilla, with G. W. P. 's compliments, and say that I giveher just two more days, and if she doesn't come to book before the endof that time, I'll sell her secret to the highest bidder. "

"Yes!" Sybilla said, breathlessly; "and now for that secret, George!"

"You won't tell?" cried Mr. Parmalee, a little alarmed at thisprecipitation. "Say you won't--never--so help you!"

"Never--I swear it. Now go on!"

 * * * * *

An hour later, Sybilla Silver, in her impenetrable disguise, re-enteredKingsland Court. No one had seen her go--no one saw her return. Shegained her own room and took off her disguise unobserved. 

Once only on her way to it she had paused--before my lady's door--andthe dark, beautiful face, wreathed with a deadly smile of hate andexultation, was horribly transformed to the face of a malignant, merciless demon. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

A STORM BREWING. 

Sir Everard Kingsland was blazing in the very hottest of the flame whenhe tore himself forcibly away from the artist and buried himself in hisstudy. The unutterable degradation of it all, the horrible humiliationthat this man and his wife--his--were bound together by some mysterioussecret, nearly drove him mad. 

"Where there is mystery there must be guilt!" he fiercely thought. "Nothing under heaven can make it right for a wife to have a secretfrom her husband. And she knew it, and concealed it before she marriedme, and means to deceive me until the end. In a week her name and thatof this low-bred ruffian will be bandied together throughout thecountry. "

And then, like a man mad indeed, he tore up and down the apartment, hishands clinched, his face ghastly, his eyes bloodshot. And then alldoubts and fears were swept away, and love rushed back in an impetuoustorrent, and he knew that to lose her were ten thousand times worsethan death. 

"My beautiful! my own! my darling! May Heaven pity us both! for beyour secret what it may, I can not lose you--I can not! Life withoutyou were tenfold worse than the bitterest death! My own poor girl! Iknow she suffers, too, for this miserable secret, this sin ofothers--for such it must be. She looked up in my face with truthful, innocent eyes, and told me she never saw this man until she met himthat day in the library, and I know she spoke the truth! My love, mywife! You asked me to trust you, and I thrust you aside! I spoke andacted like a brute! I will trust you! I will wait! I will neverdoubt you again, my own beloved bride!"

And then, in a paroxysm of love and remorse, the young husband strodeout of the library and upstairs to his wife's room. He found heralone, sitting by the window, in her loose white morning-robe, a booklying idly on her knee, herself whiter than the dress she wore. Shewas not reading, the dark eyes looked straight before them with anunutterable pathos that it wrung his heart to see. 

"My love! my life!" He had her in his strong arms, strained to hisbreast as if he never meant to let her go. "My own dear Harrie! Canyou ever forgive me for the brutal words I used--for the brutal way Iacted?"

"My Everard! my beloved husband! My darling! my darling! You arenot--you will not be angry with your poor little Harrie?"

"I could not, my life! What is the world worth to us if we can notlove and trust? I do love you, God alone knows how well! I will trustyou, though all the world should rise up against you!"

"Thank Heaven! thank Heaven! Everard, dearest, I can not tell you--Ican not--how miserable I have been! If I lost your love I should die!Trust me, my husband--trust me! Love me! I have no one left in thewide world but you!"

She broke down in a wild storm of womanly weeping. He held her insilence--the hysterics did her good. He only knew that he loved herwith a passionate, consuming love, and not ten million secrets couldkeep them apart. 

Presently she raised her head and looked at him. 

"Everard, have you--have you seen that man?"

His heart contracted with a sudden sharp pang, but he strove torestrain himself and be calm. 

"Parmalee? Yes, Harrie; I left him not an hour ago. "

"And he--Everard--for God's sake--"

"He told me nothing, Harrie. You and he keep your secrets well. Hetold me nothing, and he is gone. He will never come back here more. "

He looked at her keenly, suspiciously, as he said it. Alas! theintermittent fever was taking its hot fit again. But she dropped herface on his shoulder and hid it. 

"Has he left the village, Everard?" very faintly. 

"I can not say. I only know I have forbidden him this place, " hereplied. "Harrie, Harrie, my little wife! You are very merciless!You are torturing me, and I--I would die to save you an instant's pain!"

At that eloquent cry she slipped out of his arms and fell on her kneesbefore him, her clasped hands hiding her face. 

"May God grant me a short life!" was her frenzied cry, "for I never cantell you--never, Everard, not on my dying bed--the secret I have swornto keep!"

"Sworn to keep!" It flashed upon him like a revelation. "Sworn towhom? to your father, Harrie?"

"Do not ask me! I can tell you nothing--I dare not! I am bound by anawful vow! And, oh, I think I am the most wretched creature in thewide world!"

He raised her up; he kissed the white, despairing face again andagain--a rain of rapturous kisses. A ton weight seemed suddenly liftedoff his heart. 

"I see it all, " he cried--"I see it all now! Fool that I was not tounderstand sooner. There was some mystery, some guilt, perhaps, inCaptain Hunsden's life, and he revealed it to you on his death-bed, andmade you swear to keep his secret. Am I not right?"

She did not look up. He could feel her shivering from head to foot. 

"Yes, Everard. "

"And this man has in some way found it out, and wishes to trade uponit, to extort money from you? I have often heard of such things. Am Iright again?"

"Yes, Everard, " very faint and sad. 

"Then, my own dearest, leave me to deal with him; see him and fear himno more. I will seek him out. I will not ask to know it. I will payhim his price and send him about his business. "

He rose as he spoke. But Harriet clung to him with a strange, whiteface. 

"No, no, no!" she cried. "It would not do. You could not satisfy him. You don't know--" She stopped distractedly. "Oh, Everard, I can'texplain. You are all kindness, all generosity, all goodness; but Imust settle with this man myself. Don't go near him--don't ask to seehim. It could do no good. "

"I am not right, then, after all. The secret is yours, not yourfather's?"

"Do not ask me! If the sin is not mine, the atonement--the bitteratonement--is, at least. Everard, look at me--see! I love you withall my heart. I would not tell you a lie. I never committed a deed, Inever indulged a thought of my own, you are not free to know. I neversaw this man until that day in the library. Oh, believe this and trustme, and don't ask me to break my oath!"

"I will not! I believe you; I trust you. I ask no more. Get rid ofthis man, and be happy once again. We will not even talk of it longer;and--will you come with me to my mother's, Harrie? I dine there, youknow, to-day. "

"My head aches. Not to-day, I think. What time will you return?"

"Before ten. And, as I have a little magisterial business to transactdown in the village, it is time I was off. Adieu, my own love! Forgetthe harsh words, and be my own happy, radiant, beautiful bride oncemore. "

She lifted her face and smiled--a smile as wan and fleeting asmoonlight on snow. 

Sir Everard hastened to his room to dress, striving with all his mightto drive every suspicion out of his mind. 

And she--she flung herself on the sofa, face downward, and lay there asif she never cared to rise again. 

"Papa, papa!" she wailed, "what have you done--what have you done?"

All that day Lady Kingsland kept her room. Her maid brought her whatshe wanted. Sir Everard returned at the appointed hour, looking gloomyand downcast. 

His evening at his mother's had not been a pleasant one--that wasevident. Perhaps some vague hint of the darkening mystery had alreadyreached The Grange. 

"My mother feels rather hurt, Harrie, " he said, somewhat coldly, "thatyou did not accompany me. She is unable to call on you, owing to asevere cold. Mildred is absorbed in waiting upon her, and desires tosee you exceedingly. I promised them we would both dine there tomorrowand spend the evening. "

"As you please, Everard, " she said, wearily. "It is all the same tome. "

She descended to breakfast next morning carefully dressed to meet thefastidious eye of her husband. But she ate nothing. A gloomypresentiment of impending evil weighed down her heart. Her husbandmade little effort to rouse her--the contagious gloom affected him, too. 

"It is the weather, I dare say, " he remarked, looking out at the bleak, wintery day, the leaden sky, the wailing wind. "This February gloom isenough to give a man the megrims. I must face it, too, for to-day I'meet the captains at the citadel'--that is to say, I promised to rideover to Major Warden's about noon. You will be ready, Harrie, when Ireturn to accompany me to The Grange?"

She promised, and he departed; and then Lady Kingsland ascended to herown apartment. 

While she stood there, gazing at the gray desolation of the Februarymorning, there was a soft tap at the door. 

"Come in!" she said, thinking it her maid; and the door opened, andSybilla Silver entered. 

Lady Kingsland faced round and looked at her. How handsome she was!That was her first involuntary thought. Her sweeping black robes fellaround her tall, regal figure with queenly grace, the black eyessparkled with living light, a more vivid scarlet than usual lighted upeach dusky cheek. She looked gloriously beautiful standing there. Mr. Parmalee would surely have been dazzled had he seen her. 

There was a moment's pause. The two women eyed each other asaccomplished swordsmen may on the eve of a duel. Very pale, veryproud, looked my lady. She disliked and distrusted this brilliant, black-eyed Miss Silver, and Miss Silver knew it well. 

"You wish to speak with me, Miss Silver?" my lady said, in her mostsuperb manner. 

"Yes, my lady--most particularly, and quite alone. I beg your pardon, but your maid is not within hearing, I trust?"

"We are quite alone, " very coldly. "Speak out; no one can overhearyou. "

"I do not care for myself, " Sybilla said, her glittering black eyesmeeting the proud gray ones. "It is for your sake, my lady. "

"For my sake!" in haughty amaze. "You can have nothing to say to me, Miss Silver, the whole world may not overhear. If you intend to beimpertinent, I shall order you out of the room. "

"One moment, my lady; you go too fast. The whole world may notoverhear the message Mr. Parmalee sends you by me. "

"Ah!" my lady recoiled as though an adder had stung her--"always thatman! Speak out, then"--turning swiftly upon her husband'sprotégée--"what is the message this man sends me by you?"

"That if you do not meet him within two days, he will sell your secretto the highest bidder. "

Sybilla delivered, word for word, the words of the American--cruelly, slowly, significantly--looking her still straight in the eyes. Thoseclear gray eyes flashed with a fierce, defiant light. 

"You know all?" she cried. 

Sybilla Silver bowed her head. 

"I know all, " she answered. 

Dead silence fell. White as a dead woman, Lady Kingsland stood, hereyes ablaze with fierce, consuming fire. Sybilla made a step forward, sunk down before her, and lifted her hand to her lips. 

"He told me all, my dear lady; but your secret is safe with me. Sybilla will be your true and faithful, though humble, friend, if youwill let her. Dear Lady Kingsland, don't look at me with that stony, angry face. I have no wish but to serve you. "

The gracious speech met with but an ungracious return. My ladysnatched her hand away, as though from a snake, and gazed at her withflashing eyes of scorn and distrust. 

"What are you to this man, Miss Silver?" she asked. "Why should hetell you?"

"I am his plighted wife, " replied Sybilla, trying to call up aconscious blush. 

"Ah, I see!" my lady said, scornfully. "Permit me to congratulate youon the excellent execution your black eyes have wrought. You are avery clever girl, Miss Silver, and I think I understand you thoroughly. I am only surprised you did not carry your discovery straight to SirEverard Kingsland. "

"Your ladyship is most unjust, " Sybilla said, turning away, "unkind andcruel. I have delivered my message, and I will go. "

"Wait one moment, " my lady said, in her clear sweet voice, her proudface gleaming with a cynical smile. "Tomorrow evening it will beimpossible for me to see Mr. Parmalee--there is to be a dinner-party atthe house--during the day still more impossible. Since he commands meto see him, I will do so to-night, and throw over my other engagements. At eight this evening I will be in the Beech Walk, and alone. Let Mr. Parmalee come to me there. "

A gleam of diabolical triumph lighted up the great black eyes ofSybilla, but the profound bow she made concealed it. 

"I will tell him, my lady, " she said, "and he will be there withoutfail. "

She quitted the room, closed the door, and looked back at it as Satanmay have looked back at Eden after vanquishing Eve. 

"My triumph begins, " she said to herself. "I have caught you nicelythis time, my lady. You and Mr. Parmalee will not be alone in theBeech Walk to-night. "

Left to herself, Harriet stood for a moment motionless. 

"She, too, " she murmured, "my arch-enemy! Oh, my God, help me to bearit--help me to keep the horrible truth from the husband I love! Shewill not tell him. She knows he would never endure her from the hourshe would make the revelation; and that thought alone restrains her. It will kill me--this agonizing fear and horror! And better so--betterto die now, while he loves me, than live to be loathed when hediscovers the truth!"

Sir Everard Kingsland, riding home in the yellow, wintery sunset, foundmy lady lying on a lounge in her boudoir, her maid beside her, bathingher forehead with eau-de-Cologne. 

"Headache again, Harrie?" he said. "You are growing a complete martyrto that feminine malady of late. I had hoped to find you dressed andready to accompany me to The Grange. "

"I am sorry, Everard, but this evening it is impossible. Make myexcuses to her ladyship, and tell her I hope to see her soon. "

She did not look up as she said it, and her husband, stooping, imprinted a kiss on the colorless cheek. 

"My poor, pale girl! I will send Edwards with an apology to TheGrange, and remain at home with you. "

"No!" Harriet cried, hastily; "not on any account. You must notdisappoint your mother, Everard; you must go. There, good-bye! It istime you were dressing. Don't mind me; I will be better when youreturn. "

"I feel as though I ought not to leave you to-night, " he said. "Itseems heartless, and you ill. I had better send Edwards and theapology. "

"You foolish boy!" She looked up at him and smiled, with eyes full oftears. "I will be better alone and quiet. Sleep and solitude willquite restore me. Go! Go! You will be late, and my lady dislikesbeing kept waiting. "

He kissed her and went, casting one long, lingering backward look atthe wife he loved. And with a pang bitterer than death came theremembrance afterward of how she had urged him to leave her that night. 

Thus they parted--to look into each other's eyes no more, in love andtrust for a dark and tragic time. 

Sybilla Silver, standing at the house door, was gazing out, at theyellow February sun sinking pale and watery into the livid horizontine, as the baronet ran down-stairs, drawing on his gloves. Hepaused, with his usual courtesy, to speak to his dependent as he wentby. 

"The sky yonder looks ominous, " he said, "and this wailing, icy blastis the very desolation of desolation. There is a storm brewing. "

Miss Silver's black eyes gleamed, and her white teeth showed in asinister smile. 

"A storm?" she repeated. "Yes, I think there is, and you will becaught in it, Sir Everard, if you stay late. "

CHAPTER XXII. 

AT NIGHT IN THE BEECH WALK. 

The instant Sir Everard was out of sight Sybilla ran up to her chamber, and presently reappeared, dressed for a walk. 

Even the long, shrouding mantle she wore could not disguise theexquisite symmetry of her graceful form, and the thick brown veil couldnot dim the luster of her flashing Assyrian eyes. She smiled back, before flitting away, at the dark, bright, sparkling face her mirrorshowed her. 

"You are a very pretty person, my dear Miss Silver, " shesaid--"prettier even than my lady herself, though I say it. Worldshave been lost for less handsome faces than this in the days gone by, and Mr. Parmalee will have every reason to be proud of his wife--whenhe gets her. "

She ran lightly down-stairs, a sarcastic smile still on her lips. Inthe lower hall stood Mr. Edwards, the valet, disconsolately gazing atthe threatening prospect. He turned around, and his dull eyes lightedup at sight of this darkling vision of beauty--for Mr. Parmalee was byno means the only gentleman with the good taste to admire handsomeSybilla. 

"Going hout, Miss Silver!" Mr. Edwards asked. "Huncommon urgent yourbusiness must be to take you from 'ome such a hevening as this. 'Ow'smy lady?"

"My lady is not at all well, Mr. Edwards, " answered Sybilla. "SirEverard was obliged to go alone to his mother's, my lady's headache isso intense. Claudine is with her, I believe. We are going to have astorm, are we not? I shall be obliged to hurry back. "

She flitted away as she spoke, drawing down her veil, and disappearingwhile yet Mr. Edwards was trying to make a languid proffer of hisservices as escort. He lounged easily up against the window, gazingwith calm admiration after her. 

"An huncommon 'andsome and lady-looking young pusson that, " reflectedSir Everard's gentleman. "I shouldn't mind hasking her to be my missusone of these days. That face of hers and them dashing ways would takehelegantly behind the bar of a public. "

Sybilla sped on her way down the village to the Blue Bell. Just beforeshe reached the inn she encountered Mr. Parmalee himself, taking aconstitutional, a cigar in his mouth, and his hands deep in histrousers pockets. He met and greeted his fair betrothed with naturalphlegm. 

"How do, Sybilla?" nodding. "I kind of thought you'd be after me, andso I stepped out. You've been and delivered that there little messageof mine, I suppose?"

"Yes, " said Sybilla; "and she will meet you to-night in the Beech Walk, and hear what you have got to say. "

"The deuce she will!" said the artist; "and have her fire-eatinghusband catch us and set the flunkies at me. Not if I know myself. Ifmy lady wants to hear what I've got to say, let my lady come to me. "

"She never will, " responded Sybilla. "You don't know her. Don't be anidiot, George--do as she requests. Meet her to-night in the BeechWalk. "

"And have the baronet come upon us in the middle of our confab! Lookhere, Sybilla, I ain't a cowardly feller, you know, in the main; but, by George! it ain't pleasant to be horsewhipped by an outrageous youngbaronet or kicked from the gates by his under-strappers. "

"There is no danger. Sir Everard is not at home, and will not bebefore ten o'clock at least. He is gone to dine at The Grange with hismother; and my lady was to have gone, too, but your message frightenedher, and she told him little white lies, and insisted on his going byhimself. And, you silly old stupid, if you had two ideas in your head, you would see that this opportunity of braving his express command, andentering the lion's den to meet his wife by night and by stealth, isthe most glorious opportunity of revenge you could have. Sir Everardis nearly mad with jealousy and suspicion already. What will he bewhen he finds his wife of a month has lied to him to meet you alone andin secret at the Beech Walk? I tell you, Mr. Parmalee, you will begloriously revenged!"

"By thunder!" cried the artist, "I never thought of that. I'll do it, Sybilla--I'll do it, so help me! Tell my lady I'll be there right onthe minute; and do you take care that confounded baronet finds it out. I said I'd pay him off for every blow, and I'll do it, by the Eternal!"

"And strike through her!" hissed Sybilla, with glittering black eyes, "and every blow will go straight through the core of his proud heart. We'll torture him, George Parmalee, as man never was tortured before. "

"What a little devil you are, Sybilla!" he said, with lover-likecandor. "I've heard tell that you wimmin knock us men into a cockedhat in the way of hating, and I now begin to think it is true. Whathas this 'ere baronet done to you, I should admire to know? You don'thate him like the old sarpent for nothing. "

"What has he done to me?" repeated Sybilla, with a strange, slow smile. "That is easily told. He gave me a home when I was homeless; he was myfriend when I was friendless. I have broken his bread and drunk of hiscup, and slept under his roof, and--I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!"

Mr. Parmalee took out his cigar and stared at her in horror. 

"I tell you what it is, Miss Silver, " he said, "I don't like this sortof thing--I don't, by George! I ain't surprised at a person hating aperson, because I hate him myself; but for a young woman that is goingto be my wife to cut up like this here, and swear everlastingvengeance--well, I don't like it. You see, wild cats ain't the mostcomfortable sort of pets a man can have in his house, and how do I knowbut it may be my turn next?"

"You precious old stupid! As if I could hate you, if I tried. No, no, George; you may trust Sybilla. The wild cat will sheathe her claws intriple folds of velvet for you. "

"Humph!" said Mr. Parmalee; "but the claws will still be there. However, I ain't a-going to quarrel with you about it. I like a spunkywoman, and I hate him. I'll meet my lady to-night, and you see that mylady's husband finds it out. "

"Until then, " responded Sybilla, folding her mantle closer about her, "remember the hour--eight sharp--and don't keep her waiting. Before hesleeps to-night the proudest baronet in the realm shall know why hiswife deliberately deceived him to meet a strange man by night and bystealth in the park, where her husband had ordered him never to setfoot again. "

She fluttered away in the chill spring twilight with the last words, leaving her fiancé gazing after her with an expression that was notaltogether unmixed admiration. 

"I'll be darned if I ever met the like of you, Miss Silver, in all mytravels. You might be own sister to Lucifer himself for wickedness andrevengefulness. I'll find out what's at the bottom of all thiscantankerous spite before I make you Mrs. G. W. Parmalee, or I'll knowthe reason why. It's all very fine to have a handsome wife, with bigblack eyes and a spunky spirit, but a fellow doesn't want a wife thatwill bury the carving-knife in him the first time he contradicts her. "

Sybilla was a good walker; the last yellow line of the watery Februarysunset had hardly faded as she tripped up the long drive under thegaunt, tossing trees. Mr. Edwards still lounged in elegant leisure inthe hall, conversing with a gigantic young footman, and his fishy eyeskindled for the second time as Sybilla appeared, flushed and bright andsparkling, after her windy, twilight walk. 

"I have outstripped the storm after all, you see, " she remarked as shewent by. "I don't believe we shall have it before midnight. Oh, Claudine! is my lady in her room? I have been on an errand for herdown the village. "

She had encountered the jaunty little French girl on the upper landing, and paused to put the question. 

"Yes, " Claudine said. "Madame's headache was easier. She is readingin her dressing-room. "

Sybilla tapped at the dressing-room door, then turned the handle andentered. It was an exquisite little _bijou_ of a chamber, with flutedwalls of rose silk, and delicious plump beauties with bare shouldersand melting eyes, by Greuze. A wood fire flickered on the marblehearth, and was flashed back from lofty mirrors as tall as the room. 

Lying back in an arm-chair, her book fallen aimlessly on her lap, herdark, deep eyes looking straight before her into the evening gloaming, my lady sat alone. 

The melancholy wash of the waves on the shore, the mournful sighing ofthe evening wind among the groaning trees, the monotonous ticking of adainty buhl clock, and the light fall of the cinders sounded abnormallyloud in the dead silence of the apartment. 

Lady Kingsland turned round at the opening of the door, and her facehardened into that cold look it always wore at sight of her husband'sbrilliant protégée. 

"I have been to the village, my lady, " Sybilla said. "I have seen Mr. Parmalee. He will be in the Beech Walk precisely at eight. "

My lady bent her head in cold acknowledgment. Sybilla paused aninstant, determined to make her speak. 

"Can I be of service to you in any way in this matter, my lady?" sheasked. 

"You?" in proud surprise. "Certainly not. I wish to be alone, MissSilver. Be good enough to go. "

Sybilla's little brown fist clinched itself furiously, once on thelanding outside. 

"I can't humble her!" she thought. "I can't make her fear me. I can'ttriumph over her, do what I will. I have her secret and I hold her inmy power, but she is prouder than Lucifer himself, and she would let mestand forth and tell all, and if one pleading word would stop me, shewould not say it. 'The brave may die, but can not yield!' She shouldhave been a man. "

She went to the window and drew out her watch; it wanted a quarter ofeight. 

"In fifteen minutes my lady goes; in fifteen more I shall follow her, and not alone. I am afraid Sir Everard's slumbers will be ratherdisturbed to-night. "

The last yellow gleam of the dying day was gone, and a sickly, pallidmoon glimmered dully among drifts of scudding black clouds. An icyblast wailed up from the sea, and the rocking trees were like dryadspecters in writhing agony. The distant Beech Walk looked black andgrim and ghostly in the weird light. 

A great clock high up in a windy turret struck eight. A moment afterthe door of my lady's dressing-room opened. A dark, shrouded figureemerged, flitted swiftly down the long gallery, down the stair-way, andvanished. 

Ten minutes later Edwards, yawning forlornly, still in the entrancehall, beheld Miss Silver coming toward him with an anxious face, alarge shawl thrown over her head. 

"Going out again?" the valet exclaimed. "And such a nasty night, too. You are fond of walking, Miss S. , and no mistake. "

"I'm not going for a walk, " said Sybilla. "I am going to look for alocket I lost this afternoon. I was out in the park, in the directionof the Beech Walk, and there I must have dropped it. "

"Better wait until to-morrow, " suggested Edwards. "The wind's 'owlingthrough the trees, and it's colder than the Harctic regions. Betterwait. "

"I can not. The locket was a present, and I value it exceedingly. Ithought of asking you to accompany me, but as it is so cold perhaps youhad better not. "

"Oh, I'll go with pleasure!" said Mr. Edwards. "If you can stand thecold, I can, I dessay. Wait till I get my 'at and hovercoat--I won'tbe a minute. "

Miss Silver waited. Mr. Edwards reappeared in a twinkling. 

"'Adn't I better fetch a lantern?" he suggested. "It will behimpossible to see it, heven if it should be there. "

"No, " said Sybilla. "The moon is shining, and the locket will glimmeron the snow. Come!"

She took his arm, and they started at a brisk pace for the Beech Walk. The ground, baked hard as iron, rang under their tread, and whether itwas the bitter blast or not, Mr. Edwards could not tell, but hiscompanion's face was flushed with a more brilliant glow, in the ghostlymoonlight, than he had ever before seen there. 

They reached the long grove of magnificent copper-beeches, and justwithout its entrance Miss Silver began searching for her lost locket. 

"It is not here, " said Sybilla. "Let us go further down----"

She paused at a sudden gesture of her companion. 

"Hush!" he said. "There is some one talking in the Beech Walk. "

Both paused and stood stock still. Borne unmistakably on the nightwind, voices came to them--the soft voice of a woman, the deeper tonesof a man. 

"One of the maids, I dare say, " Sybilla said, carelessly, "holdingtryst with her lover. "

"No, " said the valet; "not one of the maids would set foot hinside thiswalk hafter nightfall for a kingdom! They say it's 'aunted. Comeforward a little, and let's see if we can't 'ave a look at the talkers. Whoever it is, he's hup to no good, I'll be bound!"

Very softly, stealing on tiptoe, the twain approached the entrance ofthe avenue. The watery moonlight breaking through a rift in theclouds, shone out for an instant above the trees, and showed them a manand a woman, standing face to face, earnestly talking. Mr. Edwardsbarely repressed a cry of consternation. 

"Good Lord!" he gasped; "it's my lady!"

"Hush!" cried Sybilla. "Who is the man?"

As if some inward prescience told him they were there, the man liftedhis hat at that very instant, and plainly showed his face. 

"The Hamerican, by Jove!" gasped the horrified valet. Sybilla Silver'seyes blazed like coals of fire, and the demoniac smile, that made herbrilliant beauty hideous, gleamed on her lips. 

She grasped the man's arm with slender fingers of iron, and stoodgloating over the scene. 

Not one word could they hear--the distance was too great--but theycould see my lady's passionate gestures; they could see the white handsclasp and cover her face; they could see her wildly excited, even inthat dim light. And once they saw her take from her pocket her purse, and pour a handful of shining sovereigns into Mr. Parmalee's extendedhand. 

Nearly an hour they had stood, petrified gazers, when they were arousedas by a thunder-clap. A horse came galloping furiously up the avenue, as only one rider ever galloped there. Sybilla Silver just repressed ascream of exultation--no more. 

"It is Sir Everard Kingsland!" she cried, in a whisper of fiercedelight, "in time to catch his sick wife in the Beech Walk with the manhe hates!"

CHAPTER XXIII. 

MY LADY'S SECRET. 

It was quite dark before prudent Mr. Parmalee, notwithstandingSybilla's assurance that the baronet was away from home, venturedwithin the great entrance gates of the park. He was not, as he saidhimself, a coward altogether; but he had a lively recollection of thepummeling he had already received, and a wholesome dread of thescientific hitting of this strong-fisted young aristocrat. When he didventure, his coat-collar was so pulled up that recognition was next toimpossible. 

Mr. Parmalee, smoking a cigar, made his way to the Beech Walk, andleaning against a giant tree, stared at the moon, and waited. Theloud-voiced turret clock struck eight a moment after he had taken hisposition. 

"Time is up, " thought the photographer. "My lady ought to be here now. I'll give her another quarter. If she isn't with me in that time, thengood-bye to Lady Kingsland and my keeping her secret. "

Ten minutes passed. As he replaced his watch a light step sounded onthe frozen snow, a shadow darkened the entrance, and Lady Kingsland'spale, proud face looked fixedly at him in the moonlight. He took offhis hat and threw away his half-smoked cigar. 

"My Lady Kingsland!"

She bowed haughtily, hovering aloof. 

"You wished to see me, Mr. Parmalee--that is your name, I believe. What is it you have to say to me?"

"I don't think you really need to ask that question, my lady. You knowas well as I do, or I'm mistaken. "

"Who are you?" she demanded, impatiently, impetuously. "How do youcome to know my secret? How do you come to be possessed of thatpicture?"

"I told you before. She gave it to me herself. "

"For God's sake, tell me the truth! Don't deceive me! Do you reallymean it? Have you really seen my----"

She stopped, shuddering in some horrible inward repulsion from head tofoot. 

"I really have, " rejoined Mr. Parmalee. "I know the--the party inquestion like a book. She told me her story, she gave me her pictureherself, of her own free will, and she told me where to find you. Sheis in London now, all safe, and waiting--a little out of patience, though, by this time, I dare say. "

"Waiting!" Lady Kingsland gasped the word in white terror. "Waitingfor what?"

"To see you, my lady. "

There was a blank pause. My lady covered her face with both hands, andagain that convulsive shudder shook her from head to foot. 

"She is very penitent, my lady, " Mr. Parmalee said, in a softer tone. "She is very poor, and ill and heart-broken. Even you, my lady, mightpity and forgive her if you saw her now. "

"For Heaven's sake, hush! I don't want to hear. Tell me how you mether first. I never heard your name until that day in the library. "

"No more you didn't, " said the artist. "You see, my lady, it was purechance-work from first to last. I was coming over here on a littlespeculation of my own in the photographic line, and being low in pocketand pretty well used to rough it, I was coming in the steerage. Therewas a pretty hard crowd of us--Dutch and Irish and all sorts mixed upthere--an' among 'em one that looked as much out of her element as afish out of water. Any one could tell with half an eye she'd been alady, in spite of her shabby duds and starved, haggard face. She wasalone. Not a soul knew her, not a soul cared for her, and half-wayacross she fell sick and had like to died. "

Mr. Parmalee paused. My lady stood before him, ashen, white to thelips, listening with wild, wide eyes. 

"Go on, " she said, almost in a whisper. 

"Well, my lady, " Mr. Parmalee resumed, modestly, "I'm a pretty roughsort of a fellow, as you may see, and I hain't never experiencedreligion or that, and don't lay claim to no sort of goodness; but forall that I've an old mother over to home, and for her sake I couldn'tstand by and see a poor, sufferin' feller-critter of the femalepersuasion and not lend a helping hand. I nussed that there sick partyby night and by day, and if it hadn't been for that nussin' and thelittle things I bought her to eat, she'd have been under the Atlanticnow, though I do say it. "

My lady held out her hand, aglitter with rich rings. 

"You are a better man than I took you for, " she said softly. "I thankyou with all my heart. "

Mr. Parmalee took the dainty hand, rather confusedly, in hisfinger-tips, held it a second, and dropped it. 

"It was one night, when she thought herself dying, that she told me herstory--told me everything, my lady--who she had been, who she was, andwhat she was coming across for. My lady, nobody could be sorrier thanshe was then. I pitied her, by George, more than I ever pitied any onebefore in my life. She had been unhappy and remorseful for a longtime, but she was in despair. It was too late for repentance, shethought. There was nothing for it but to go on to the dreadful end. Sometimes, when she was almost mad, she--well, she took to drink, youknow, and he wasn't in any way a good or kind protector toher--Thorndyke wasn't. "

My lady flung up both arms with a shrill scream. 

"Not that name, " she cried--"not that accursed name, if you would notdrive me mad!"

"I beg your pardon!" said Mr. Parmalee; "I won't. Well, she heard ofyour father's death--_he_ told her, you see--and that completed herdespair. She took to drink worse and worse; she got out of allbounds--sort of frantic, you see. Twice she tried to killherself--once by poison, once by drowning; and both times he--you knowwho I mean--caught her and stopped her. He hadn't even mercy enough onher, she says, to let her die!"

"For God's sake, don't tell me of those horrors!" my lady cried, inagony. "I feel as though I were going mad. "

"It is hard, " said the artist, "but I can't help it--it's true, all thesame. She heard of your marriage to Sir Everard Kingsland next. Itwas the last thing he ever taunted her with; for, crazed with his jeersand insults, she fled from him that night, sold all she possessed butthe clothes on her back, and took passage for England. "

"To see me?" asked Harriet, hoarsely. 

"To see you, my lady, but all unknown. She had no wish to forceherself upon you; she only felt that she was dying, and that if shecould look on your face once before she went out of life, and see youwell, and beautiful, and beloved, and happy, she could lie down in thedust at your gates and die content. 

"She made me write you a line or two that night, " continued Mr. Parmalee--"that night which she thought her last--and she begged me tofind you and give it to you, with her picture. I have it yet; herethey are, both. "

He drew from his pocket the picture and a note, and gave them into mylady's hand. 

"She didn't die, " he resumed; "she got better, and I took her toLondon, left her there, and came down here. Now, my lady, I don't makeno pretense of being better than I am; I took this matter up in the wayof speculation, in the view to make money out of it, and nothing else. I said to myself: 'Here's this young lady, the bride of a rich baronet;it ain't likely she's been and told him all this, and it ain't likelyher pa has died and left her ignorant of it. Now, what's to hinder mymaking a few honest pounds out of it, at the same time I do a good turnfor this poor, sufferin'. Sinful critter here? That's what I said, mylady, and that's what I am here for. I'm a poor man, and I live by mywits, and a stroke of business is a stroke of business, no matter howfar it's out of the ordinary run. Your husband don't know this herestory; you don't want him to know it, and you come down handsomely andI'll keep your secret. "

"You have rather spoiled your marketable commodity, then, Mr. Parmalee. It would have paid you better not to have shared your secret withSybilla Silver. "

"She's told you, has she?" said the artist, rather surprised. "Nowthat's what I call mean. You don't think she'll peach to Sir Everard, do you?"

"I think it extremely likely that she will. She hates me, Mr. Parmalee, and Miss Silver would do a good deal for a person she hates. You should have waited until she became Mrs. Parmalee before making herthe repository of your valuable secrets. "

"It's no good talking about it now, however, " said Mr. Parmalee, ratherdoggedly. "I've told her, and it can't be helped. And now, my lady, Idon't want to be caught here, and it's getting late, and what are yougoing to give a fellow for all his trouble?"

"What will hardly repay you, " said my lady, "for I have very little ofmy own, as you doubtless have informed yourself ere this. What I haveyou have earned and shall receive. At the most it will not exceedthree hundred pounds. Of my husband's money not one farthing shall anyone ever receive from me for keeping a secret of mine. "

"I must have more than that, " he said, resolutely. "Three hundredpounds is nothing to a lady like you. "

"It is all I have--all I can give you, and to give you that I must sellthe trinkets my dear dead father gave me. But it is for his sake I doit--to preserve his secret. My jewels, my diamonds, my husband's giftsI will not touch, nor one farthing of his money will you ever receive. You entirely mistake me, Mr. Parmalee. My secret I will keep from himwhile I can; I swore a solemn oath by my father's death-bed to do so. But to pay you with his money--to bribe you to deceive him with hisgold--I never will. I would die first. "

She stood before him erect, defiant, queenly. 

Mr. Parmalee frowned darkly. 

"Suppose I go to him then, my lady--suppose I pour this nice littlestory into his ear--what then?"

"Then, " she exclaimed, in tones of ringing scorn, "you will receivenothing. His servants will thrust you from his gates. No, Mr. Parmalee, if money be your object you will make a better bargain withme than with him. What is mine you shall have--every farthing I own, every trinket I possess--on condition that you depart and never troubleme more. That is all I can do--all I will do. Decide which youprefer. "

"There is no choice, " replied the American, sullenly; "half a loaf isbetter than nothing. I'll take the three hundred pounds. And now, mylady, what do you mean to do about her? She wants to see you. "

"See me!" An expression of horror swept over my lady's face. "Not forten thousand worlds!"

"Well, now, I call that hard, " said Mr. Parmalee. "I don't care whatshe's done or what she's been, it's hard! She's sorry now, and no onecan be more than that. I take an interest in that unfortunate party, my lady; and if you knew how she hankers after a sight of you--how poorand ill and heart-broken she is--how she longs to hear you say once, 'Iforgive you, ' before she dies--well, you wouldn't be so hard. "

"Stop--stop!" Lady Kingsland exclaimed. 

She turned away, leaning against a tree, her face more ghastly than theface of a dead woman. 

Mr. Parmalee watched her. He could see the fierce struggle that shookher from head to foot. 

"Don't be hard on her!" he pleaded. "She's very humble now, and fallenvery low. She won't live long, and you'll be happier on your owndeath-bed, my lady, for forgiving her poor soul!"

She put out her hand blindly and took his. 

"I will see her, " she said, hoarsely. "May God forgive her and pityme! Fetch her down here, Mr. Parmalee, and I will see her. "

"Yes, my lady; but as I'm rather short of funds, perhaps--"

She drew out her purse and poured its glittering contents into his palm. 

"It is all I have now; when you return I will have the three hundredpounds. You must take her back to New York. She and I must never meetagain--for my husband's sake. "

"I understand, my lady. I'll do what I can. I'll take her back, andI'll trouble you no more. "

His last words were drowned in the gallop of Sir Galahad up the avenue. 

"It is my husband, " my lady exclaimed. "I must leave you. When willyou--and she--return?"

"In two days we will be here. I'll give out she's a sister of mine atthe inn, and I'll send you word and arrange a meeting. "

Mr. Parmalee drew down his hat and strode away. Weak, trembling, mylady leaned for a few moments against a tree, trying to recoverherself, then turned slowly and walked back to the house to meet herhusband. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

MISS SILVER BREAKS THE NEWS. 

The Grange, the jointure house of the Dowager Lady Kingsland, stood, like all such places, isolated and alone, at the furthest extremity ofthe village. It was a dreary old building enough, weather-beaten andbrown, with primly laid-out grounds, and row upon row of stiff poplarswaving in the wintery wind. A lonely, forlorn old place--a vividcontrast to the beauty and brightness of Kingsland Court; and from thefirst day of her entrance, Lady Kingsland, senior, hated herdaughter-in-law with double hatred and rancor. 

"For the pauper half-pay officer's bold-faced daughter we must drag outour lives in this horrible place!" she burst out, bitterly. "WhileHarriet Hunsden reigns _en princesse_ amid the splendors of ourancestral home, we must vegetate in this rambling, dingy old barn. I'll never forgive your brother, Mildred--I'll never forgive him aslong as I live for marrying that creature!"

"Dear mamma, " the gentle voice of Milly pleaded, "you must not blameEverard. He loves her, and she is as beautiful as an angel. It wouldhave been all the same if he had married Lady Louise, you know. Wewould still have had to quit Kingsland Court. "

"Kingsland Court would have had an earl's daughter for its mistress inthat case. But to think that this odious, fox-hunting, steeple-chase-riding, baggage-cart-following _fille du regiment_ shouldrule there, while we--Oh, it sets me wild only to think of it!"

"Don't think of it, then, mamma, " coaxed Mildred. "We will make thiswilderness 'blossom as the rose' next summer. As for Harrie, you don'tknow her yet--you will like her better when you do!"

"I shall never like her!" Lady Kingsland replied, with bitterness. "Idon't want to like her! She is a proud upstart, and I sincerely hopeshe may make Everard see his folly in throwing himself away before thehoney-moon is ended. "

It was quite useless for Mildred to try to combat her mother's fierceresentment. Day after day she wandered through the desolate, draughtyrooms, bewailing her hard lot, regretting the lost glories ofKingsland, and nursing her resentment toward her odiousdaughter-in-law; and when the bridal pair returned, and Milly timidlysuggested the propriety of calling, my lady flatly refused. 

"I never will!" she said, spitefully. "I'll never call on CaptainHunsden's daughter. I never countenanced the match before he made it. I shall not countenance it now when she has usurped my place. Sheshould never have been received in society--a person whose mother wasno better than she ought, to be. "

"But, mamma--"

"Hold your tongue, Milly! You always were a little fool! I tell you Iwill not call on my son's wife, and no more shall you. Let her comehere. "

My lady adhered to her resolution with iron force, and received herson, when the day after his return he rode over, with freezingformality. But with all that, she was none the less deeply displeasedwhen he called and came to dinner and left his bride at home. 

"My humble house is not worthy my lady's presence, I dare say, " sheremarked. "After the magnificence of barrack life and the splendor ofHunsden Hall, I scarcely wonder she can not stoop to your mother'sjointure house. A lady in her position must draw the line somewhere. "

"You are unjust, mother, " her son said, striving to speak calmly. "Youalways were unjust to Harriet. If you will permit us, we will both doourselves the pleasure of dining with you to-morrow. "

"It shall be precisely as the Prince and Princess of Kingsland please. My poor board will be only too much honored. "

"It is natural, I suppose, " he thought, riding homeward. "The contrastbetween Kingsland Court and The Grange is striking. She is jealous andangry and hurt--poor mother! Harrie must come with me to-morrow, andtry to please her. "

But when to-morrow came Harrie had a headache, and the baronet wasobliged to go alone. 

There was an ominous light in his mother's eyes, and a look of troubledinquiry in Mildred's face that told him a revelation was coming. 

His mother's eyes transfixed him the instant he appeared. 

"I thought your wife was coming?"

"Harriet had a shocking bad headache. She has been ill all day, " hereplied, hastily. "It was quite impossible for her to leave her room. She regrets----"

"That will do, Everard!" His mother rose as she spoke, with a shortlaugh. "I understand it all. Don't trouble yourself to explain. Letus go to the dining-room--dinner waits. "

"But, my dear mother, it is really as I say. Harrie is ill. "

"Ill? Yes, ill of a guilty conscience, perhaps! Such a mother--such adaughter! I always knew how this mad _mésalliance_ would end. I don'tknow that I am surprised. I don't know that I regret it. I am onlysorry that my son's wife should be the first to disgrace the name ofKingsland!"

"Disgrace? Take care, mother! That is an ugly word. "

"It is. But, however ugly, it is always best to call these things bytheir right names. "

"These things! What under heaven do you mean?"

"Do you really need to ask?" she said, with cold contempt. "Are youindeed so blind where this woman is concerned? Why, my son's wife isthe talk of the town, and my son sits here and asks me what I mean?"

"Mamma! mamma!" Mildred said, imploringly. "Pray don't! You arecruel! Don't say such dreadful things!"

"Your mother is cruel, and unjust, and unnatural!" he said, in a hard, hoarse voice. "Do you tell me what she means, Mildred. "

"Don't ask me, Everard!" Mildred said, in distress. "We have heardcruel, wicked stories---false, I know--about Harrie and--and astranger--an American gentleman--who is stopping at the Blue Bell Inn. "

"Yes, Everard, " his mother said, pity for him, hatred of his wife, strangely mingled in look and tone, "your bride of a month is the talkof the place. The names of Lady Kingsland and this unknown man gowhispered together from lip to lip. "

"What do they say?"

"Nothing!" Mildred exclaimed, indignantly--"nothing but their own basesuspicions! She nearly fainted at first sight of him. He showed her apicture, and she ran out of the room and fell into hysterics. Sincethen he has written to her, and mysterious personages--females indisguise--visit him at the Blue Bell. That is what they whisper, Everard; nothing more. "

"Nothing more!" echoed her mother. "Quite enough, I think. What wouldyou have, Miss Kingsland? Everard, who is this man?"

"You appear to know more than I do, mother. He is an American--atraveling photograph artist--and my wife never laid eyes on him untilshe saw him, the day after our arrival, in the library. As to thefainting and the hysterics, I chanced to be in the library all throughthat first interview, and I saw neither one nor the other. I am sorryto spoil the pretty romance in which you take such evident delight, mygood, kind, charitable mother; but truth obliges me to tell you it is afabrication from beginning to end. And now, if you will be good enoughto tell me the name of the originator of this report, you will conferupon me the last favor I shall ever ask of you. My wife's honor ismine; and neither she nor I will ever set foot in a house where suchstories are credited--not only credited, but exulted in. Tell me thename of your tale-maker, Lady Kingsland, and permit me to wish yougood-evening. "

"Everard!" his sister cried, in agony. 

But he cut her short with an impatient wave of his hand. 

"Hush, Mildred; let my mother speak. "

"I have nothing to say. " She stood haughtily before him, and theylooked each other full in the face, mother and son. "My tale-maker isthe whole town. You can not punish them all, Sir Everard. There istruth in this story, or it never would have originated; and he haswritten to her--that is beyond a doubt. He had told it himself, andshown her reply. "

"It is as false as hell!" His eyes blazed like coals of fire. "Mywife is as pure as the angels, and any one who dares doubt that purity, even though it be the mother who bore me, is my enemy to the death!"

He dashed out of the house, mounted Sir Galahad, and rode away as ifSatan and his hosts were after him. 

"Mamma! mamma!" Mildred cried, in unutterable reproach, "what have youdone?"

"Told him the truth, child. It is better he should know it, althoughthat knowledge parts us forever. "

Like a man gone mad the young baronet galloped home. The sicklyglimmer of the fitful moon shone on a face that would never be moreghastly in his coffin--on strained eyes and compressed lips. It seemedto him but an instant from the time he quitted The Grange until hedashed up the avenue at Kingsland, leaped off his foaming bay, andstrode into the house. Straight to his wife's room he went, fierce, invincible determination in every line of his rigid face. 

"She shall tell me all--she shall, by Heaven!" he cried. 

He entered her dressing-room--she was, not there; her boudoir--she wasnot there; her bedroom--it too was empty. He seized the bell andnearly tore it down. Claudine, the maid, looked in with a startledface. 

"Where is your mistress?"

The girl gazed round with a bewildered air. 

"Is my lady not here, sir? She sent me away over an hour ago. She waslying down in her dressing-room; she said she was ill. "

He looked at her for a moment--it was evident she was telling thesimple truth. 

"Send Miss Silver here. "

"I am not sure that Miss Silver is in the house, Sir Everard. I sawher go out with Edwards some time ago but I will go and see. "

Claudine departed. Five minutes passed--ten; he stood rigid as stone. Then came steps--hurried, agitated--the footsteps of a man and a woman. 

He strode out and confronted them--Edwards, his valet, and SybillaSilver. Both were dressed as from a recent walk; both wore strangelypale and agitated faces. 

Edwards barely repressed a cry at sight of his master. 

"What is it?" Sir Everard asked. 

The valet looked at Sybilla in blank terror. Miss Silver covered herface with both hands and turned away. 

"What is it?" the baronet repeated, in a dull, thick voice. "Where ismy wife?"

"Sir Everard, I--I don't know how--she--she is not in the house. "

"Where is she?"

"She is--in the grounds. "

"Where?"

"In the Beech Walk. "

"With whom?"

"With Mr. Parmalee. "

There was dead pause. Sybilla clasped her hands and looked imploringlyup in his face. 

"Don't be angry with us, Sir Everard; we could not help seeing them. Ilost a locket, and Edwards came to help me look for it. It was by themerest chance we came upon them in the Beech Walk. "

"I am not angry. Did they see you?"

"No, Sir Everard. "

"Did you hear what they said?"

"No, Sir Everard; we would not have listened. They were talking; mylady seemed dreadfully agitated, appealing to him as it appeared, whilehe was cool and indifferent. Just before we came away we saw her givehim all the money in her purse. Ah, here she is now! For pity's sake, do not betray us, Sir Everard!"

She flitted away like a swift, noiseless ghost, closely followed by thevalet. And an instant later Lady Kingsland wild and pale, and shroudedin a long mantle turned to enter her dressing-room, and found herselfface to face with her wronged husband. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE BREAKING OF THE STORM. 

She looked at him and recoiled with a cry of dismay. He stood beforeher so ghastly, so awful, that with a blind, unthinking motion ofintense terror she put out both hands as if to keep him off. 

"You have reason to fear me!" he said, in a hoarse, unnatural voice. "Wives have been murdered for less than this!"

Sybilla and Edwards heard the ominous words, and looked blankly in eachother's faces. They heard no more. The baronet caught his wife'swrist in a grasp of iron, drew her into the dressing-room, and closedthe door. He stood with his back to it, gazing at her, his blue eyesfilled with lurid rage. 

"Where have you been?"

He asked the question in a voice more terrible from its menacing calmthan any wild outburst of fury. 

"In the Beech Walk, " she answered, promptly. 

"With whom?"

"With Mr. Parmalee. "

Her glance never fell. She looked at him proudly, unquailingly, fullin the face. The look in his flaming eyes, the tone of his ominousvoice, were bitterly insulting, and with insult her imperious spiritrose. 

"And you dare stand before me--you dare look me in the face, " he said, "and tell me this?"

"I dare!" she said, proudly. "You have yet to learn what I dare do, Sir Everard Kingsland!"

She drew herself up in her beauty and her pride, erect and defiant. Her long hair fell loose and unbound, her face was colorless as marble;but her dark eyes were flashing with anger and wounded pride, and ather brightest she had never looked more beautiful than she did now. 

"So beautiful and so lost!" he said, bitterly. "So utterly deceitfuland depraved! Surely what they tell of her mother must be true. Thetaint of dishonor is in the blood!"

The change was instantaneous. The pallor of her face turned to aburning red. She clasped her hands with a sudden spasm over her heart. 

"My mother!" she gasped. "What do you say of her?"

"What they say of you--that she was a false and wicked wife. Deny itif you can. "

"No, " she said, with an imperial gesture of scorn, "I deny nothing. Ifmy husband can believe such a vile slander of his wife of a month, letit be. I scorn to deny what he credits so easily. "

"I am afraid it would tax even your invention, my lady, to deny thesevery plain facts. I leave you in your room, too ill to leave it, tooill by far to ride with me to my mother's, but not too ill to get upand meet your lover--shall I say it, madame?--clandestinely in theBeech Walk as soon as I am gone! You should be a little more careful, madame, and make sure before you hold those confidential_tête-à-têtes_, that the servants are not listening and looking on. Lady Kingsland and Mr. Parmalee are the talk of the county already. To-night's meeting will be a last _bonne bouche_ added to the spicydish of scandal. "

"Have you done?" she said, whiter than ashes. "Have you any moreinsults to offer?"

"Insults!" the baronet repeated, hoarse with passion. "You do well, madame, to talk of insults--lost, fallen creature that you are! Youhave dishonored an honorable name; betrayed a husband who loved andtrusted you with all his heart; blighted and ruined his life; coveredhim with disgrace! And you stand there and talk of insult! I haveloved you as man never loved woman before, but God help you, HarrietKingsland, if I had a pistol now!"

She fell down on her knees before him. 

"Kill me!" she cried. "I am here at your feet--have mercy and stab meto the heart, but do not drive me mad with your horrible reproaches!May God forgive me if I have brought dishonor upon you, for I nevermeant it! Never--never--so help me Heaven!"

"Rise, madame! Kneel to Him who will judge you for your baseness; itis too late to kneel to me! Oh, great God! to think how I have lovedthis woman, and how bitterly she has deceived me!"

The unutterable agony of his tone to her dying day Harriet Kingslandmight never forget. 

"I loved her and I trusted her! I would have died to save her one hourof pain, and this is my reward! Dishonored--disgraced--my lifeblighted--my heart broken--deceived from first to last!"

"No, no, no!" she shrieked aloud. "I swear it to you, Everard! I amguiltless! By all my hopes of heaven, I am your true, your faithful, your loving wife!"

He turned and looked up at her in white amaze. Truth, that no livingbeing could doubt, was stamped in agony on that upturned, beautifulface. 

"Hear me, Everard!" she cried--"my own beloved husband! I met this manto-night because he holds a secret I am sworn to keep, and that placesme in his power. But, by all that is high and holy, I have told youthe simple truth about him! I never saw him in all my life until I sawhim that day in the library. I have never set eyes on him since, except for an hour to-night. Oh, believe me, Everard or I shall diehere at your feet!"

"And you never wrote to him?" he asked. 

"Never--never!"

"Nor he to you?"

"Once--the scrawl you saw Sybilla Silver fetch me. I never wrote--Inever sent him even a message. "

"No? How, then, came you two to meet to-night?"

"He wished to see me--to extort money from me for the keeping of thissecret--and he sent word by Sybilla Silver. My answer was, 'I will bein the Beech Walk at eight tonight. If he wishes to see me let himcome to me there. '"

"Then you own to have deliberately deceived me? The pretended headachewas--a lie?"

"No; it was true. It aches still, until I am almost blind with thepain. Oh, Everard, be merciful! Have a little pity for me, for I loveyou, and I am the most wretched creature alive!"

"You show your love in a singular way, my Lady Kingsland. It is not bykeeping guilty secrets from your husband--by meeting other men by nightand by stealth in the grounds--that you are to convince me of yourlove. Tell me what this mystery means. I command you, by your wifelyobedience, tell me this secret at once!"

"I can not!"

"You mean you will not. "

"I can not. "

"It is a secret of guilt and of shame? Tell me the truth?"

"It is; but the guilt is not mine. The shame--the bitter shame--andthe burning expiation, God help me, are!"

"And you refuse to tell me?"

"Everard, I have sworn!" she cried out, wildly. "Would you have mebreak a death-bed oath?"

"I would have you break ten thousand such oaths, " he exclaimed, "whenthey stand between you and your husband! Harriet Hunsden, your deadfather was a villain!"

She sprung to her feet--she had been kneeling all this time--andconfronted him like a Saxon pythoness. Her great gray eyes actuallyflashed fire. 

"Go!" she cried. "Leave me this instant! Were you ten times myhusband, you should never insult the memory of the best, the noblest, the most devoted of fathers! I will never forgive you the words youhave spoken until my dying day!"

"_You_ forgive!" he retorted, with sneering scorn, stung out of allgenerosity. "Forgiveness is no word for such lips as yours, LadyKingsland! Keep your guilty secret, or your father's or your mother's, whosoever it may be; but not as my wife! No, madame! when the worldbegins to point the finger of scorn, through her own evil-doing, at thewoman I have married, then from that hour she is no longer my wife. The law of divorce shall free you and your secrets together; but untilthat freedom comes, I command you to meet this man no more! On yourperil you write to him, or speak to him, or meet him again. If you do, by the living Lord, I will murder you both!"

He dashed out of the room like a man gone mad, leaving her standingpetrified in the middle of the floor. 

One instant she stood, the room heaving, the walls rocking around her;then, with a low, moaning cry, she tottered blindly forward and felllike a stone to the floor. 

The storm burst at midnight. A gale surged through the trees with anoise like thunder; the rain fell in torrents. And while rain and windbeat tempestuously over the earth and the roaring sea, the husbandpaced up and down the library, with clinched teeth and locked hands anddeath-like face--for the time utterly mad--and the wife lay alone inher luxuriant room, deaf and blind to the tempest, in a deep swoon. 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

"THE PERSON IN LONDON. "

The February day was closing in London in a thick, clammy, yellow fog. No keen frost, no sparkling stars brightened the chill spring twilight;the sky, where it could be seen, was of a uniform leaden tint, the dampmist wet you to the bone, and a long, lamentable blast whistled aroundthe corners and pierced chillingly through the thickest wraps, andpassengers strode through the greasy black mud with surly faces andgreat-coats and the inevitable London umbrella. 

At the window of a dull and dirty little lodging a woman sat, in thisdark gloaming, gazing out at the passers-by. The house had a perpetualodor of onions and cabbage and dinner, as it is in the nature of suchhouses to have, and the room, "first floor front, " was in the laststage of lodging-house shabbiness and discomfort. 

The woman was quite alone--a still, dark figure sitting motionless bythe grimy window. She might have been carved in stone, so still shesat--so still she had sat for more than two hours. 

Her dress was black, of the poorest sort, frayed and worn, and sheshivered under a threadbare shawl drawn close around her shoulders. Yet, in spite of poverty and sickness, and despair and middle age, thewoman was beautiful still, with a dark and haggard and wild sort ofbeauty that would have haunted one to one's dying day. 

In her youth, and her first freshness and innocence, she must have beenlovely as a dream; but that loveliness was all gone now. 

The listless hands lay still, the great, glittering dark eyes staredblankly at the dingy houses opposite, at the straggling pedestrians, atthe thickening gloom. The short February day was almost night now, thestreet-lamps flared yellow and dull athwart the clammy fog. 

"Another day, " the woman murmured, "another endless day of sick despairgone. Alone and dying--the most miserable creature on the wide earth. Oh, great God, who didst forgive Magdalene, have a little pity on me!"

A spasm of fierce anguish crossed her face for an instant, fading away, and leaving the hopeless despair more hopeless than before. 

"I am mad, worse than mad, to hope as I do. She will never look uponmy guilty face--she so pure, so stainless, so sweet--how dare I ask it?Oh, what happy women there are in the world! Wives who love and arebeloved, and are faithful to the end! And I--think how I drag onliving with all that makes life worth having gone forever, while thosehappy ones, whose lives are one blissful dream, are torn by death fromall who love them. To think that I once had a husband, a child, ahome; to think what I am now--to think of it, and not to go mad!"

She laid her face against the cold glass with a miserable groan. "Havepity on me, oh, Lord! and let me die!"

There was a rush of carriage-wheels without, a hansom cab whirled up tothe door, and a tall young man leaped out. Two minutes more and thetall young man burst impetuously into the dark room. 

"All alone, Mrs. Denover, " called a cheery voice, "and all in the dark?Darkness isn't wholesome--too conducive to low spirits and the bluedevils. Halloo! Jane Anne, idol of my young affections, bring up thegas. "

He leaned over the greasy baluster, shouting into the invisible regionsbelow, and was answered promptly enough by a grimy maid-servant with aflickering dip-candle. 

"'Tain't my fault, nor yet missis's, " said this grimy maid. "Mrs. Denover will sit in the dark, which I've----"

"That will do, Jane Anne, " taking the dip and unceremoniously cuttingher short. "Vamoose! evaporate! When I want you I'll sing out. "

He re-entered the room and placed the candle on the table. The womanhad risen, and stood with both hands clasped over her heart, a wild, gleaming, eager light in her black eyes. But she strove to restrainherself. 

"I am glad to see you back, Mr. Parmalee, " she said. "I have beenexpecting you for the last two days. "

"And wearing yourself to skin and bone, as I knew you would, with yourfidgets. What's the good of taking on so? I told you I'd come back asquick as I could, and I've done so. It ain't my fault that the time'sbeen so long--it's Lady Kingsland's. "

"You have seen her?"

"That I have. And very well worth seeing she is, I tell you. She's ashandsome as a picture, though not so handsome as you must have been ather age, either, Mrs. Denover. And she says she'll see you. "

"Oh, thank God!"

The woman tottered hack and sunk into a chair. 

"That's right, " said Mr. Parmalee; "take a seat, and let us talk it allover at our ease. "

He took one himself, not in the ordinary fashion, but with his face tothe back, his arms crossed over it, and his long legs twistedscientifically round the bottom. 

"I've seen him, and I've seen her, " said the photographer, "and afiner-looking couple ain't from here to anywhere. And as the Lord made'em, He matched 'em for an all-fired prouder pair you couldn't meet ina summer-day's walk. "

"She comes of a proud race, " the woman murmured, feebly. "The Hunsdensare of the best and oldest stock in England. "

"And she's a thorough-bred, if ever there was a thorough-bred one yet, and blood will show in a woman as well as a horse. Yes, she's proud, she's handsome and dreadful cut up, I can tell you, at the news Ibrought her. "

The woman covered her face with her hands with a low moan. Mr. Parmalee composedly went on:

"She knew your picture the minute she clapped eyes on it. I was afraidshe might holler, as you wimmin do, at the sight, and her husband andanother young woman were present, but she's got grit, that girl, thereal sort. She turns round, by George! and gives me such a look--wentthrough me like a carving-knife--and gets up without a word and walksaway. And she never sent for me nor asked a question about it, although I mentioned you gave it to me, until I forced her to it, andafter that no one need talk to me about the curiosity of the fair sex. "

"Does her husband know?"

"No; and he's as jealous as a Turk. I wrote her a note--just aline--and sent it by that other young woman I spoke of, and what doeshe do but come to me like a roaring lion, and like to pummel my innardsout! I owe him one for that, and I'll pay him off, too. I had to sendagain to my lady before she would condescend to see me, but when shedid, I must say she behaved like a trump. She gave me thirtysovereigns plump down, promised me three hundred pounds, and told me tofetch you along. It ain't as much as I expected to make in thisspeculation; but, on the whole, I consider it a pretty tolerable fairstroke of business. "

"Thank God!" the woman whispered, "thank God! I shall see my lostdarling once before I die!"

"Now don't you go and take on, Mrs. Denover, " observed Mr. Parmalee, "or you'll use yourself up, you know, and then you won't be able totravel to-morrow. And after to-morrow, and after you see your----Well, my lady, there's the other little trip back to Uncle Sam'sdomains you've got to make; for you ain't a-going to stay in Englandand pester that poor young lady's life out?"

"No, " said Mrs. Denover, mournfully--"no, I will never trouble heragain. Only let me see her once more, and I will go back to my nativeland and wait until the merciful God sends me death. "

"Oh, pooh!" said the artist; "don't you talk like that--it kind ofmakes my flesh creep, and there ain't no sense in it. There's AuntDeborah, down to our section--you remind me of her--she was alwaysgoing on so, wishing she was in heaven, or something horrid, the wholetime. It's want of victuals more than anything else. You haven't hadany dinner, I'll be bound!"

"No; I could not eat. "

"Nor supper?"

"No: I never thought of it. "

Mr. Parmalee got up, and was out of the room and hanging over thebaluster in a twinkling. 

"Here you, Jane Anne!"

Jane Anne appeared. 

"Fetch up supper and look sharp--supper for two. Go 'round the cornerand get us some oysters and a pint of port, and fetch up some bakedpotatoes and hot mutton chops--and quick about it. "

"Now, then, " said Mr. Parmalee, reappearing, "I've dispatched theslavery for provisions, and you've got to eat when they come. I won'thave people living on one meal a day, and wishing they were in heaven, when I'm around. "

"I will do whatever you think best, Mr. Parmalee, " she said, humbly. "You have been very good to me. "

"I know it, " said Mr. Parmalee. "I always do the polite thing withyour sex. My mother was a woman. She's down in Maine now, and canchurn and milk eight cows, and do chores, and make squash pie. Oh!them squash pies of my old lady's require to be eat to be believed in;and, for her sake, I always take to elderly female parties in distress. Here's the forage. Come in, Jane Anne, beloved of my soul, and dump'em down and go. "

Jane Anne did. 

"Now, Mrs. Denover, you sit right up and fall to. Here's oysters, andhere's mutton chops, raging hot, and baked potatoes--delicious to lookat. And here's a glass of port wine, and you've got to drink itwithout a whimper. Mind what I told you; you don't budge a stepto-morrow unless you eat a hearty supper to-night. "

"You are very good to me, " Mrs. Denover repeated. "What would havebecome of me but for you?"

She strove to eat and drink to please him and to sustain her feeblestrength, but every morsel seemed to choke her. She pushed away herplate at last and looked at him imploringly. 

"I can not eat another mouthful. Indeed I would if I could. I have noappetite at all of late. "

"That's plain to be seen. Well, if you can't, you can't, of course. And now, as it's past nine, the best thing you can do is to go to bedat once. "

With the same humility she had evinced throughout, the woman obeyed atonce. Mr. Parmalee, left alone, sat over his oysters and his port, luxuriating in the thirty sovereigns in the present and the threehundred pounds in the prospective. 

"It's been an uncommon good investment, " he reflected, "and knocks thephotograph business into a cocked hat. Then there's Sybilla--she goeswith the bargain, too. Three hundred pounds and a handsome, black-eyedwife. I wish she hadn't such a devil of a temper. I'll take her hometo the farm, and if mother doesn't break her in she'll be the first sheever failed with. "

Mr. Parmalee retired betimes, slept soundly, and was up in the grayday-dawn. Breakfast, piping hot, smoked on the table when Mrs. Denoverappeared. 

"Eat, drink and be merry, " said Mr. Parmalee. "Go in and win. Trythat under-done steak, and don't took quite so much like the ghost ofHamlet's father, if you can help it. "

The woman tried with touching humility to please him, and did her best, but that best was a miserable failure. 

A cab came for them in half an hour, and whirled them off on the firststage of their journey. 

In the golden light of the spring afternoon Mr. Parmalee made hisappearance again at the Blue Bell Inn, with a veiled lady, all inblack, hanging on his arm. 

"This here lady is my maiden aunt, come over from the State of Maine tosee your British institutions, " Mr. Parmalee said, in fluent fiction, to the obsequious landlady. "She's writing a book, and she'll mentionthe Blue Bell favorably in it. Her name is Miss Hepzekiah Parmalee. Let her have your best bedroom and all the luxuries this hotel affords, and I will foot the bill. "

He lighted a cigar and sallied forth. 

"Miss Hepzekiah Parmalee" dined alone in her own room; then sat by thewindow, with white face and strained eyes, waiting for Mr. Parmalee'sreturn. 

It was almost dark when he came. He entered hurriedly, flushed andexcited. 

"Fortune favors us this bout, Mrs. Denover, " he said, "I've met an oldchum down on the wharf yonder--a countryman--and I'd as soon haveexpected to find the President of the United States in this littleone-horse town. His name's Davis--Captain Davis, of the schooner'Angelina Dobbs'--and he's going to sail for Southampton this verynight. There's a streak of luck. A free passage for you and for me upto Southampton to-night. "

"But my--Lady Kingsland?" she faltered. 

"I've made that all right, too. I met one of the flunkies and sentword to Sybilla that we were here, and that she'd better see us atonce. I expect an answer every---- Ah, by George! speak of the--hereshe is!"

It was Miss Sybilla Silver, sailing gracefully down the street. Mr. Parmalee darted out and met her--superbly handsome, her dark cheeksflushed with some inward excitement, her black eyes gleaming withstrange fire. 

"Is she here?" she breathlessly asked. 

Mr. Parmalee nodded toward the window. 

Sybilla gazed up a moment at the pale, haggard face. 

"They are alike, " she said, under her breath--"mother and daughter--andthat face is scarcely more haggard than the other now. We have had adreadful quarrel, Mr. Parmalee, since you left, up at the Court. "

"Want to know about me?"

"Partly. About the secret--about that meeting in the Beech Walk. Heabsolutely threatened her life. "

"Should like to have been there to hear him, " said Mr. Parmalee. "Itwould be paying off old scores a little. How did she take it?"

"She fainted. Her maid found her in a dead swoon next morning. Shedid not tell Sir Everard, by my advice; he would have been for makingit up directly. They have not met since--my doing, too. He thinks sheis sulking in her room. He is half mad to be reconciled--to make afool of himself, asking pardon, and all that--but I have taken goodcare he shall not. He thinks she is obstinate and sullen; she thinkshe is full of nothing but rage and revenge. It is laughable to managethem. "

"Fun to you, but death to them, " observed the artist. "You are flinty, Sybilla, and no mistake. I'm pretty hard myself, but I couldn'ttorment folks like that in cold blood. It's none of my business, however, and I don't care how high you pile the agony on him. Did youtell her the elderly party was here?"

"Yes. She has not left her room for three days. She is the shadow ofher former self, and she was dreadfully agitated upon hearing it; butshe answered, firmly, 'I will see her, and at once. I will meet herto-night. ' I asked where, and then, for the first time, she was at aloss. "

"The Beech Walk, " suggested the artist. 

"The Beech Walk is watched. Sir Everard's spies are on the lookout. No--I know a better place. The young plantation slopes down to thevery water's edge; the shrubbery is thick and dense, the spot gloomy;no one ever goes there. You can come by water and fetch her in theboat. Land on the shore under the stone terrace, about midnight, andmy lady will meet you there. "

"And you, Sybilla? The old lady and me, we sail at the turn of thetide for Southampton, to take passage for America. I suppose youhain't forgotten your promise?"

"Is it likely, George? I will follow you to America and we will bemarried there. It is impossible for me to go with you now. You canwait a couple of months, can you not?"

"But--"

"You must wait, George. I love you, and I will follow you and be yourtrue and devoted wife. But you must wait a little. Say you agree, andlet us part until we meet again--where? In New York?"

"I suppose so, " Mr. Parmalee responded, gruffly. "You're boss in thisbusiness, it seems, and I've got to do as you say. But it's hard on afellow; I calk'lated on taking you over with me. "

"Would you have me go to you penniless? I will come to you with afortune. Believe me, trust me, and wait. You will be on the stoneterrace at twelve to-night?"

"She will, " said the American. "I'll wait in the boat. 'Tain't likelythey want me to be present at their interview. Just remind my lady tofetch along the three hundred pounds, and don't let her fail to come. I want to sail in the 'Angelina Dobbs' to-night. "

"She will not fail. She will come. "

Her eyes blazed up with a lurid fire as she said it. 

"She will be there, " she said, "and she shall fetch the three hundredpounds. Do you not fail!"

"I will not. Will you be there, too, Sybilla?"

"I? Of course not. There is no need of me. "

"Then we say good-bye here?"

"Yes. Good-bye until we meet in New York. "

"I will write to you from there, " he said, wringing her hand. "Good-bye, Sybilla! I will be at the trysting-place to-night. Be surethe other party is, too. "

"Without fail. Adieu, and--forever!"

She waved her hand and flitted away, uttering the last word under herbreath. 

Mr. Parmalee watched her out of sight, heaved a heavy sigh, and wentback to the house. 

Swiftly Sybilla Silver fluttered along in the chill evening wind, herface to the sunset sky. But not the pale luster of that Februarysunset lighted her dark face with that lurid light--the flame burnedwithin. Two fierce red spots blazed on either cheek: her eyes glowedlike living coals; her hands were clinched under her shawl. 

"She will be there, " she whispered, under her breath--"she will bethere, but she never will return. By the wrongs of the dead, by thevengeance I have sworn, this night shall be her last on earth. And heshall pay the penalty--my oath will be kept, the astrologer'sprediction fulfilled, and Zenith the gypsy avenged!"

CHAPTER XXVII. 

"HAVE YOU PRAYED TO-NIGHT, DESDEMONA?"

The sun went down--a fierce and wrathful sunset. Black and brazenyellow flamed in the western sky; the sea lay glassy and breathless;the wind came in fitful gusts until the sun went down, and then diedout in dead and ominous calm; night fell an hour before its time. 

My lady sat by her chamber window, looking out at black sea and blackersky. Exquisite pictures, wonderful bric-a-brac treasures, inlaidtables and cabinets, richest carpets and curtains, and chairs that werelike ivory touched up with gold, made the room a miracle of beauty. 

But my lady herself, sitting alone amid the rose-colored curtains, looking blankly out at the menacing sky, wore a face as dark as thatsky itself. She had wasted to a shadow; dark circles under her holloweyes told of sleepless nights and wretched days; her cheeks werehaggard, her lips bloodless. 

The white morning-dress she still wore clung loosely around her wastedfigure; all the bright hair was pushed impatiently off her face andconfined in a net. 

No one who had seen Harrie Hunsden, radiant as Hebe, blooming as Venus, daring as Diana, at the memorable fox-hunt of a little more than a yearago, would ever have recognized this haggard, pallid, wretched-lookingLady Kingsland as the same. 

She sat still and alone, gazing out at the dreary desolation of earthand heaven. The great house was still as a tomb; the bustle of theservants' regions was far removed, the gnawing of a mouse behind theblack paneling, the soft ticking of the toy clock sounded unnaturallyloud. 

"Darkening, " Harriet thought, looking at the leadentwilight--"darkening, like my life. Not two months a wife, and hislove and trust gone forever. May Heaven pity me, for there is none onearth!"

There was a tap at the door. Lady Kingsland had learned to know thatsoft, light tap. 

"Come in, " she said; and Sybilla entered. 

She did not pause at the closed door as usual; she glided noiselesslyacross the room and stood beside her. So like a ghost she came, herdead-black garments making no rustle, her footfall making no sound, herwhite face awfully corpse-like in the spectral light, her black eyesglowing like a cat's in the dark; my lady shrunk in absolute affright. 

"Don't come any nearer!" she cried, putting out her hands. "What doyou want?"

"I have seen Mr. Parmalee, my lady. "

Her tones were the same as usual--respectful. But the gentle voice didnot reassure Lady Kingsland. 

"Well?" she said, coldly. 

"He will be there, my lady. At half past eleven to-night you willfind--your mother"--slowly and distinctly--"waiting for you on theterrace down by the shore. "

"Half past eleven. Why so very late?"

"My lady, it will not be safe for you to venture out before. You arewatched!"

"Watched!" she repeated, haughtily. "Do you mean, Sybilla Silver--"

"I mean, my lady, " Miss Silver said, firmly, "Sir Everard has setspies. The Beech Walk is watched by night and by day. Claudine islittle better than a tool in the hands of Edwards, the valet, with whomshe is in love. She tells everything to Edwards, and Edwards repeatsto his master. A quarter past eleven all will be still--the householdwill have retired--you may venture forth in safety. The night will bedark, the way lonely and dismal; but you know it every inch. On thestone terrace, at half past eleven, you will find--your mother awaitingyou. You can talk to her in perfect safety, and for as long as youchoose. "

"Have you seen her?" she asked. 

"At the window of the Blue Belt Inn--yes, my lady. It is very rash forher to expose herself, too, for hers is a face to strike attention atonce, if only for the wreck of its beauty, and for its unutterable lookof despair. But as she leaves again soon, I dare say nothing will comeof it. "

"When do they leave?"

"To-night. It appears a friend of Mr. Parmalee is captain of a littlevessel down in the harbor, and he sails for Southampton at the turn ofthe tide--somewhere past midnight. It is a very convenient arrangementfor all parties. By the by, Mr. Parmalee told me to remind you, mylady, of the three hundred pounds. "

"Mr. Parmalee is impertinent. I need no reminder. Have you anythingmore to say, Miss Silver?"

"Only this, my lady: the servants' entrance on the south side of thehouse will be the safest way for you to take, and the nearest. If youdread the long, dark walk, my lady, I will be only too happy toaccompany you. "

"You are very good. I don't in the least dread it. When I wish you toaccompany me anywhere I will say so. "

Sybilla bowed, and the darkness hid a sinister smile. 

"You have no orders for me, then, my lady?"

"None. Yes, you had better see Claudine, and say I shall not requireher services to-night. Inform me when the servants have all retired, and"--a momentary hesitation, but still speaking proudly--"does SirEverard dine at home this evening?"

"Sir Everard just rode off as I came in, my lady. He dines with MajorMorrell and the officers, and will not return until past midnight, verylikely. He is always late at those military dinners. "

"That will do; you may go. "

"Shall I not light the lamp, my lady?"

"No; be good enough to leave me. "

Sybilla quitted the room, her white teeth, set together in a viperishclinch. 

"How she hates me, and how resolved she is to show it! Very well, mylady. You don't hate me one thousandth part as much as I hate you; andyet my hatred of you is but a drop in the ocean compared to my deadlyvengeance against your husband. Go, my haughty Lady Kingsland--go toyour tryst--go to your death!"

Left alone, Harriet sat in the deepening darkness for over three hours, never moving--still and motionless as if turned to stone. 

The pretty Swiss clock played a waltz preparatory to striking eleven. She sat and listened until the last musical chime died away; then sherose, groped her way to the low, marble chimney-piece, struck alucifer, and lighted a large lamp. 

The brilliant light flooded the room. Sybilla's rap came that sameinstant softly upon the door. 

"My lady. "

"I hear, " my lady said, not opening it. "What is it?"

"All have retired; the house is as still as the grave. The south dooris unfastened; the coast is clear. "

"It is well. Good-night. "

"Good-night. "

She stood a moment listening to the soft rustle of Miss Silver's skirtsin the passage, then, slowly and mechanically, she began to prepare forher night's work. 

She took a long, shrouding mantle, wrapped it around her, drew the hoodover her head, and exchanged her slippers for stout walking shoes. Then she unlocked her writing-case and drew forth a roll of bank-notes, thrust them into her bosom, and stood ready. 

But she paused an instant yet. She stood before one of the full-lengthmirrors, looking at her spectral face, so hollow, so haggard, out ofwhich all the youth and beauty seemed gone. 

"And this is what one short month ago he called bright andbeautiful--this wasted, sunken-eyed vision. Youth and beauty, love andtrust and happiness, home and husband, all lost. Oh, my father, whathave you done?"

She gave one dry, tearless sob. The clock struck the quarter past. The sound aroused her. 

"My mother, " she said--"let me think I go to meet my mother. Sinful, degraded, an outcast, but still my mother. Let me think of that, andbe brave. "

She opened her door; the stillness of death reigned. She glided downthe corridor, down the sweeping stair-way, the soft carpeting mufflingevery tread--the dim night-lamps lighting her on her way. 

No human sound startled her. All in the house were peacefullyasleep--all save that flying figure, and one other wicked watcher. Shegained the door in safety. It yielded to her touch. She opened it, and was out alone in the black, gusty night. 

Harriet Kingsland's brave heart quailed only for a moment; then sheplunged resolutely forward into the gloom. Slipping, stumbling, falling, rising again, the wind beating in her face, the branchescatching like angry hands at her garments--still she hurried on. Itwas a long, long, tortuous path, but it came to an end. The roar ofthe sea sounded awfully loud as it rose in sullen majesty, the flags ofthe stone terrace rang under her feet. Panting, breathless, cold asdeath, she leaned against the iron railing, her hands pressed hard overher tumultuous heart. 

It was light here. A fitful midnight moon, pale and feeble, wasbreaking through a rift in the clouds, and shedding its sickly glimmerover the black earth and raging sea. To her eyes, accustomed to thedense darkness, every object was plainly visible. She strained hergaze over the waves to catch the coming boat she knew was to bear thoseshe had come to meet; she listened breathlessly to every sound. Butfor a weary while she listened, and watched, and waited in vain. Whatwas that? A footstep crashing through the under-wood near at hand. She turned with a wordless cry of terror. A tall, dark figure emergedfrom the trees and strode straight toward her. An awful voice spoke:

"I swore by the Lord who made me I would murder you if you ever cameagain to meet that man. False wife, accursed traitoress, meet yourdoom!"

She uttered a long, low cry. She recognized the voice--it was thevoice of her husband; she recognized the form--her husband's--toweringover her, with a long, gleaming dagger in his hand. 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

ON THE STONE TERRACE. 

When Sybilla Silver parted from Lady Kingsland outside the chamberdoor, she went straight to her own room, and began her preparations forthat night's work. 

The flaming red spots, all foreign to her usual complexion, blazed oneither cheek-bone; her black eyes shone like the eyes of a tigresscrouched in a jungle. 

But she never faltered--she never wavered in her deadly purpose. Theaim of her whole life was to be fulfilled this night--the _manes_ ofher dead kinsfolk to be appeased. 

Her first act was to sit down and write a note. It was very brief, illy spelled, vilely written, on a sheet of coarsest paper, and sealedwith a big blotch of red wax and the impress of a grimy thumb. This iswhat Miss Silver wrote:

SUR HEVERARD KINGSLAND:

HONURED SIR:--This is to Say that my Lady is Promised the hamericanGent, for to meet him this Night at Midnight on the Stone Terrace, Which honoured Sir you ought to Know, which is why I write. 

 Yours too Command, A FRIEND. 

"This will do it, I think. Sir Everard will visit the stone terraceto-night before he sleeps. It will be fully eleven, probably halfpast, before be comes home. He will find this anonymous communicationawaiting him. He will fume and stamp and spurn it, but he will go, allthe same. And then!"

She sealed the note, directed it in the same atrocious fist to thebaronet, and then, rising, proceeded to undress. 

But not to go to bed. A large bundle lay on a chair; she opened it, drew forth a full suit of man's attire--an evening suit that the youngbaronet had worn but a few times, and the very counterpart of thatwhich he wore to-night. 

Miss Silver stood before the glass and arrayed herself in these. Shewas so tall that they fitted her very well, and when her long hair wasscientifically twisted up, and a hat of Sir Everard's crushed down uponit, she was as handsome a young fellow as you could see in a long day'ssearch. 

That vague and shadowy resemblance to the baronet, which Mr. Parmaleehad once noticed, was very palpable and really striking when she threwover all a long riding-cloak which Sir Everard often wore. 

"You will do, I think, " she said, to her transformed image in theglass. "Even my lady might mistake you for her husband in theuncertain moonlight. "

She left the mirror, crossed the room, unlocked a trunk with a key shetook out of her bosom, and drew forth a morocco scabbard case. Thecrest of the Kingslands and the monogram "E. K. , " decorated the leather. 

Opening this, she drew forth a long, glittering Spanish stiletto, notmuch thicker than a coarse needle, but strong and glittering and deadlykeen. 

"Sir Everard has not missed his pretty toy yet, " she muttered. "If hehad only dreamed, when he saw it first, not a fortnight ago, of thedeed it would do this night!"

She closed the trunk, thrust the dagger into its scabbard, the scabbardinto her bosom, blew out the lamp, and softly opened the door. All wasstill as the grave. 

She locked her door securely, put the key in her pocket, and stoletoward Sir Everard's rooms. Her kid slippers fell light as snow-flakeson the carpet. She opened the baronet's dressing-room door. It hadbeen his sleeping-room, too, of late. His bed stood ready prepared; alamp burned dimly on the dressing-table. Beside the lamp Miss Silverplaced her anonymous letter, then retreated as noiselessly as she hadentered, shut the door, and glided stealthily down the corridor, downthe stairs, along the passages, and out of the same door which my ladyhad passed not ten minutes previously. 

Swift as a snake, and more deadly of purpose, Sybilla glided along thegloomy avenues of the wood toward the sea-side terrace. Every nerveseemed strung like steel, every fiber of her body quivered to itsutmost tension. Her eyes blazed in the dark like the eyes of a wildcat; she looked like a creature possessed of a devil. 

She reached the extremity of the woodland path almost as soon as hervictim. A moment she paused, glaring upon her with eyes of fiercesthate as she stood there alone and defenseless. The next, she drew outthe flashing stiletto. Flung away the scabbard, and advanced with itin her hand and horrible words upon her lips. 

"I swore by the Lord who made me I would murder you if you ever cameagain to meet that man! False wife, accursed traitoress, meet yourdoom!"

There was a wild shriek. In that fitful light she never doubted for amoment but that it was her husband. 

"Have mercy!" she cried. "I am innocent, Everard! Oh, for God's sake, do not murder me!"

"Wretch--traitoress--die. You are not fit to pollute the earth longer!Go to your grave with my hate and my curse!"

With a sudden paroxysm of mad fury the dagger was lifted--one fiercehand gripped Harriet's throat. A choking shriek--the dagger fell--agurgling cry drowned in her throat--a fierce spurt of hot blood--a reelbackward and a heavy fall over the low iron railing--down, down on theblack shore beneath--and the pallid moonlight gleaming above shone onone figure standing on the stone terrace, alone, with a dagger drippingblood in its hand. 

She leaned over the rail. Down below--far down--she could see aslender figure, with long hair blowing in the blast, lying awfullystill on the sands. Not five feet off the great waves washed, rising, steadily rising. In five minutes more they would wash the feet of theterrace--that slender figure would lie there no more. 

"The fall alone would have killed her. Before I am half-way back tothe house those waves will be her shroud. "

She wrapped her cloak around her and fled away--back, swift as thewind, into the house, up the stairs. Safe in her own room, she toreoff her disguise. The cloak and the trousers were horribly spottedwith blood. She made all into one compact package, rolled up thedagger in the bundle, stole back to the baronet's dressing-room andlistened, and peeped through the key-hole. He was not there; the roomwas empty. She went in, thrust the bundle out of sight in the remotestcorner of the wardrobe, and hastened back to her chamber. Her letterstill lay where she had left it. The baronet bad not yet returned. 

In her own room Miss Silver secured the door upon the inside, accordingto custom, donned her night-dress, and went to bed--to watch and wait. 

 * * * * *

The mess dinner was a very tedious affair to one guest at least. MajorMorrell and the officers told good stories and sung doubtful songs, andpassed the wine and grew hilarious; but Sir Everard Kingsland chafedhorribly under it all, and longed for the hour of his release. 

A dull, aching torture lay at his heart; a chill presentiment of evilhad been with him all day; the tortures of love and rage and jealousyhad lashed him nearly into madness. 

Sometimes love carried all before him, and he would start up to rush tothe side of the wife he loved, to clasp her to his heart, and defyearth and Hades to part them. Sometimes anger held the day, and hewould pace up and down like a madman, raging at her, at himself, atParmalee, at all the world. 

He was haggard and worn and wild, and his friends stared at him andshrugged their shoulders, and smiled significantly at this outwardevidence of post-nuptial bliss. 

It was almost midnight when the young baronet mounted Sir Galahad androde home. Kingsland Court lay dark and still under the frowning nightsky. He glanced up at the window of his wife's chamber. A lightburned there. A longing, wistful look filled his blue eyes, his armsstretched out involuntarily, his heart gave a great plunge, as thoughit would break away and fly to its idol. 

"My darling!" he murmured, passionately--"my darling, my life, my love, my wife! Oh, my God to think, I should love her, wildly, madly still, believing her--knowing her to be false!"

He went up to his dressing-room, his heart full to bursting. A mad, insane longing to go to her, to fold her to his breast, to forgive herall, to take her, guilty or innocent, and let pride and honor go to thewinds, was upon him. He loved her so intensely, so passionately, thatlife without her, apart from her, was hourly increasing torture. 

The sight of a folded note lying on the table alone arrested hisexcited steps. He took it up, looked at the strange superscription, tore it open, ran over its diabolical contents, and reeled as if strucka blow. 

"Great Heaven! it is not true! it can not be true! it is a vile, accursed slander! My wife meet this man alone, and at midnight, inthat forsaken spot! Oh, it is impossible! May curses light upon theslanderous coward who dared to write this infernal lie!"

He flung it, in a paroxysm of mad fury, into the fire. A flash offlame, and Sybilla Silver's artfully written note was forever gone. Hestarted up in white fury. 

"I will go to her room; I will see for myself! I will find her safelyasleep, I know!"

But a horrible misgiving filled him, even while he uttered the bravewords. He dashed out of his room and into his wife's. It wasdeserted. He entered the bedroom. She was not there; the bed had notbeen slept in. He passed to her boudoir; that, too, was vacant. 

Sir Everard seized the bell-rope and rang a peal that resounded withunearthly echoes through the sleeping house. Five minutes of madimpatience--ten; then Claudine, scared and shivering, appeared. 

"Where is your mistress?"

"_Mon Dieu_! how should I know? Is not my lady in bed?"

"No; her bed has not been slept in to-night. She is in none of herrooms. When did you see her last?"

"About ten o'clock. She dismissed me for the night; she said she wouldundress herself. "

"Where is Miss Silver?"

"In bed, I think, monsieur. "

"Go to her--tell her I want to see her at once. Lose no time. "

Claudine disappeared. Miss Silver was so very soundly asleep that itrequired five minutes rapping to rouse her. Once aroused, however, shethrew on a dressing-gown, thrust her feet into slippers, and appearedbefore the baronet, with a pale, anxious, inquiring face. 

"Where is my wife? Where is Lady Kingsland?"

"Good Heaven! is she not here?"

"No. You know where she is! Tell me, I command you!"

Sybilla Silver covered her face with both hands, and cowered before himwith every sign of guilt. 

"Spare me!" she cried, faintly. "I dare not tell you!"

He made one stride forward, caught her by the arm, his eyes glaringlike the eyes of a tiger. 

"Speak!" he thundered; "or by the Heaven above us, I'll tear it fromyour throat! Is she with him?"

"She is, " cowering, shrinking, trembling. 

"Where?"

"On the stone terrace. "

"How do you know?"

"He returned this afternoon; he sent for me; he told me to tell her tomeet him there to-night, about midnight. She did not think you wouldreturn before two or three---- Oh, for pity's sake----"

"I'll have their hearts' blood!" he thundered, with an awful oath. 

The horrible voice, the horrible oath, was like nothing earthly. Thetwo women cowered down, too intensely frightened even to scream. Oneother listener recoiled in wordless horror. It was Edwards, the valet. 

The madman, goaded to insane fury, had rushed out of the hall--out ofthe house. The trio looked at each other with bloodless faces anddilated eyes of terror. 

Edwards was the first to find his paralyzed tongue:

"May the Lord have mercy upon us! There'll be murder done this night!"

The two women never spoke. Huddled together, they clung to Edwards, aswomen do cling to men in their hour of fear. 

Half an hour passed; they never moved nor stirred. 

Ten minutes more, and Sir Everard dashed in among them as he had dashedout. 

"It is false!" he shouted--"a false, devilish slander! She is notthere!"

A shriek from Claudine--a wild, wild shriek. With starting eyes shewas pointing to the baronet's hands. 

All looked and echoed that horror-struck cry. They were literallydripping blood!

CHAPTER XXIX. 

BRANDED. 

The baronet lifted his hands to the light, and gazed at their crimsonhue with wild, dilated eyes and ghastly face. 

"Blood!" he said, in an awful whisper--"blood--Good God, it is hers!She is murdered!"

The three listeners recoiled still further, paralyzed at the sight, atthe words, at the awful thought that a murderer, red-handed, stoodbefore them. 

"A horrible deed has been done this night!" he cried, in a voice thatrang down the long hall like a bugle blast. "A murder has beencommitted! Rouse the house, fetch lights, and follow me!"

Edwards rose up, trembling in every limb. 

"Quick!" his master thundered. "Is this a time to stand agape?Sybilla, sound the alarm! Let all rise and join in the search. "

In a moment all was confusion. Claudine, of a highly excitabletemperament, no sooner recovered from her stupor of dismay, then, witha piercing shriek, she fainted and tumbled over in a heap. 

But no one heeded her. Bells rang, lights flashed, servants, white andwild, rushed to and fro, and over all the voice of the master rang, giving his orders. 

"Lights, lights!" he shouted. "Men, why do you linger and stare?Lights! and follow me to the stone terrace. "

He led the way. There was a general rush from the house. The men borelanterns; the women clung to the men, terror and curiosity struggling, but curiosity getting the better of it. In dead silence all made theirway to the stone terrace--all but one. 

Sybilla Silver saw them depart, stood a moment, irresolute, then turnedand sped away to Sir Everard's dressing-room. She drew the compactbundle of clothes from their corner, removed the dagger, tied up thebundle again with the weight inside, and hurriedly left the house. 

"These blood-stained garments are not needed to fix the guilt uponhim, " she said to herself: "that is done already. The appearance ofthese would only create confusion and perplexity--perhaps help hiscause. I'll destroy these and fling away the dagger in the wood. They'll he sure to find it in a day or two. They will make such asearch that if a needle were lost it would be found. "

There was an old sunken well, half filled with slimy, green water, mud, and filth, in a remote end of the plantation. Thither, unobserved, Sybilla made her way in the ghostly moonlight and flung herblood-stained bundle into its vile, poisonous depths. 

"Lie there!" she muttered. "You have done your work, and I fling youaway, as I fling away all my tools at my pleasure. There, in the greenmuck and slimy filth, you will tell no tales. "

She hurried away and struck into a path leading to the stone terrace. She could see the lanterns flashing like firefly sparks; she could hearthe clear voice of Sir Everard Kingsland commanding. All at once thelights were still, there was a deep exclamation in the baronet's voice, a wild chorus of feminine screams, then blank silence. 

Sybilla Silver threw the dagger, with a quick, fierce gesture, into thewood, and sprung in among them with glistening, greedy black eyes. They stood in a semicircle, in horror-struck silence, on the terrace. The light of half a dozen lanterns streamed redly on the stoneflooring, but redder than that lurid light, a great pool of blood laygory before them. The iron railing, painted creamy white, was allclotted with jets of blood, and clinging to a projecting knob, something fluttered in the bleak blast, but they did not see it. Alleyes were riveted on the awful sight before them--every tongue wasparalyzed. Edwards, the valet, was the first to break the dreadfulsilence. 

"My master!" he cried, shrilly; "he will fall!"

He dropped his lantern and sprung forward just in time and no more. The young baronet reeled and fell heavily backward. The sight of thatblood--the life-blood of his bride--seemed to freeze the very heart inhis body. With a low moan he lay in his servant's arms like a dead man. 

"He has fainted, " said the voice of Sybilla Silver. "Lift him up andcarry him to the house. "

"Wait!" cried some one. "What is this?"

He tore the fluttering garment off the projection and held it up to thelight. 

"My lady's Injy scarf!"

No one knew who spoke--all recognized it. It was a little Cashmereshawl Lady Kingsland often wore. Another thrilling silence followed;then--

"The Lord be merciful!" gasped a house-maid. "She's been murdered, andwe in our beds!"

Sybilla Silver, leaning lightly against the railing, turnedauthoritatively to Edwards:

"Take your master to his room, Edwards. It is no use of lingering herenow; we must wait until morning. Some awful deed has been done, but itmay not be my lady murdered. "

"How comes her shawl there, then?" asked the old butler. "Why can'tshe be found in the house?"

"I don't know. It is frightfully mysterious, but nothing more can bedone to-night. "

"Can't there?" said the butler. "Jackson and Fletcher will go to thevillage and get the police and search every inch of the park beforedaylight. The murderer can't be far away. "

"Probably not, Mr. Norris. Do as you please about the police, only ifyou ever wish your master to recover from that death-like swoon, youwill carry him at once to the house and apply restoratives. "

She turned away with her loftiest air of hauteur, and Miss Silver hadalways been haughty to the servants. More than one dark glancefollowed her now. 

"You're a hard one, you are, if there ever was a hard one!" said thebutler. "There's been no luck in the house since you first set foot init. "

"She always hated my lady, " chimed in a female. "It's my opinionshe'll be more glad than sorry if she is made away with. She wantedSir Everard for herself. "

"Hold your tongue, Susan!" angrily cried Edwards. "You daren't callyour soul your own if Miss Silver was listening. Bear a hand here, youfellers, and help me fetch Sir Heverard to the house. "

They bore the insensible man to the house, to his room, where Edwardsapplied himself to his recovery. Sybilla aided him silently, skillfully. Meantime, the two gigantic footmen were galloping like madto the village to rouse the stagnant authorities with their awful news. And the servants remained huddled together, whispering in affright;then, in a body, proceeded to search the house from attic to cellar. 

"My lady may be somewhere in the house, " somebody had suggested. "Whoknows? Let us try. "

So they tried, and utterly failed, of course. 

Morning came at last. Dull and dreary it came, drenched in rain, thewind wailing desolately over the dark, complaining sea. All wasconfusion, not only at the Court, but throughout the whole village. The terrible news had flown like wild-fire, electrifying all. My ladywas murdered! Who had done the deed?

Very early in the wet and dismal morning, Miss Silver, braving theelements, wended her way to the Blue Bell Inn. 

Where was Mr. Parmalee? Gone, the landlady said, and gone for good, nobody knew where. 

Sybilla stood and stared at her incredulously. Gone, and without aword to her--gone without seeing the murdered woman! What did it mean?

"Are you sure he has really gone?" she asked. "And how did he go?"

"Sure as sure!" was the landlady's response; "which he paid his bill tothe last farthing, like a gentleman. And as for how he went, I am sureI can't say, not being took in his confidence; but the elderly party, she went with him, and it was late last evening. "

Miss Silver was nonplused, perplexed, bewildered, and very anxious. What did Mr. Parmalee mean? Where had he gone? He might spoil allyet. She had come to see him, and accuse him of the murder--tofrighten him, and make him fly the village. Circumstances werestrongly against him--his knowledge of her secret; his nocturnalappointment; her disappearance. Sybilla did not doubt but that hewould consider discretion the better part of valor, and fly. 

She went back to the house, intensely perplexed. There the confusionwas at its height. The scabbard had been found near the terrace, withthe baronet's initials thereon. 

Men looked into each other's blank faces, afraid to speak the frightfulthoughts that filled their minds. 

And in his room Sir Everard lay in a deep stupor--it was not sleep. Sybilla, upon the first faint signs of consciousness, had administereda powerful opiate. 

"He must sleep, " she said, resolutely, to Edwards. "It may save hislife and his reason. He is utterly worn out, and every nerve in hisbody is strung to its utmost tension. Let him sleep, poor fellow!"

He lay before her so death-like, so ghastly, so haggard, that thestoniest enemy might have relented--the pallid shadow of the handsome, happy bridegroom of two short months ago. 

"I have kept my oath, " she thought. "I have wreaked the vengeance Ihave sworn. If I left him forever now, the _manes_ of Zenith the gypsymight rest appeased. But the astrologer's prediction--ah! the workmust go on to the appalling end. "

Early in the afternoon arrived Lady Kingsland and Mildred, in afrightful state of excitement and horror. Harriet murdered! Thetragic story had been whispered through The Grange until it reachedtheir ears, thrilling them to the core of their hearts with terror. 

Miss Silver met them--calm, grave, inscrutable. 

"I am afraid it is true, " she said, "awfully incredible as it seems. Sir Everard fainted stone-dead, my lady, at sight Of the blood upon theterrace. "

"Great heavens! it is horrible! That unfortunate girl. And my son, Sybilla, where is he?"

"Asleep in his room, my lady. I administered an opiate. His verylife, I think, depended on it. He will not awake for some hours. Donot disturb him. Will you come up to your old rooms and remove yourthings?"

They followed her. They had come to stay until the suspense wasended--to take care of the son and brother. 

Lady Kingsland wrung her hands in a paroxysm of mortal anguish in thesolitude of her own room. 

"Oh, my God!" she cried, "have mercy and spare! My son, my son, myson! Would God I might die to save you from the worse horrors to come!"

All that day, all the next, and the next, and the next, the fruitlesssearch for the murdered bride was made. All in vain; not the faintesttrace was to be obtained. 

Mr. Parmalee was searched for high and low. Immense rewards wereoffered for the slightest trace of him--immense rewards were offeredfor the body of the murdered woman. In vain, in vain!

Had the earth opened and swallowed them up, Mr. Parmalee and thebaronet's lost bride could not more completely have vanished. 

And, meanwhile, dark, ominous whispers rose and circulated from mouthto mouth, by whom originated no one knew. Sir Everard's franticjealousy of Mr. Parmalee, his onslaught in the picture-gallery, thethreats he had used again and again, overheard by so many, the oath hehad sworn to take her life if she ever met the American artist again, his ominous conduct that night, his rushing like a madman to the placeof tryst, his returning covered with blood--white, wild, like oneinsane. Then the finding of the scabbard, marked with his initials, and his own words:

"Blood! Good God! it is hers! She is murdered!"

The whispers rose and grew louder and louder; men looked in darksuspicion upon the young lord of Kingsland, and shrunk from himpalpably. But as yet no one was found to openly accuse him. 

Toward the close of the second week, a body was washed ashore, somemiles down the coast, and the authorities there signified to theauthorities of Worrel that the corpse might be the missing lady. 

Sir Everard, his mother, and Miss Silver went at once. But the sightwas too horrible to be twice looked at. 

The height corresponded, and so did the long waves of flowing hair, andSybilla Silver, the only one with nerve enough to glance again, pronounced it emphatically to be the body of Harriet, Lady Kingsland. 

There was to be a verdict, and the trio remained; and before itcommenced, the celebrated detective from Scotland Yard, employed fromthe first by Sir Everard, appeared upon the scene with crushing news. He held up a blood-stained dagger before the eye of the baronet:

"Do you know this little weapon, Sir Everard?"

Sir Everard looked at it and recognized it at once. 

"It is mine, " he replied. "I purchased it last year in Paris. Myinitials are upon it. "

"So I see, " was the dry response. 

"How comes it here? Where did you find it?"

The detective eyed him narrowly, almost amazed at his coolness. 

"I found it in a very queer place, Sir Everard--lodged in the branchesof an elm-tree, not far from the stone terrace. It's a miracle it wasever found. I think this little weapon did the deed. I'll go and havea look at the body. "

He went. Yes, there in the region of the heart was a gaping wound. 

The inquest came on; the facts came out--mysteriously whispered before, spoken aloud now. And for the first time the truth dawned on thestunned baronet--he was suspected of the murder of the wife he loved!

The revolting atrocity, the unnatural horror of the charge, nerved himas nothing else could have done. His pale, proud face grew rigid asstone; his blue eyes flashed scornful defiance; his head reared itselfhaughtily aloft. How dare they accuse him of so monstrous a crime?

But the circumstantial evidence was crushing. Sybilla Silver'sevidence alone would have damned him. 

She gave it with evident reluctance; but give it she did with frightfulforce, and the bereaved young husband stood stunned at the terriblestrength of the case she made out. 

Everything told against him. His very eagerness to find the murdererseemed but throwing dust in their eyes. Not a doubt lingered in theminds of the coroner or his jury, and before sunset that day SirEverard Kingsland was on his way to Worrel Jail to stand his trial atthe coming assizes for the willful murder of Harriet, his wife. 

CHAPTER XXX. 

MISS SILVER ON OATH. 

The day of trial came. Long, miserable weeks of waiting--weeks ofanguish and remorse and despair had gone before, and Sir EverardKingsland emerged from his cell to take his place in the criminal dockand be tried for his life for the greatest crime man can commit. 

The court-house was crowded to suffocation--there was not even standingroom. The long gallery was one living semicircle of eyes; ladies, ingleaming silks and fluttering plumes, thronged as to the opera, andslender throats were craned, and bright eyes glanced eagerly to catchone fleeting glimpse of the pale prisoner--a baronet who had murderedhis bride before the honey-moon was well over. 

The case was opened in a long and eloquent speech by the counsel forthe crown, setting forth the enormity of the crime, citing a hundredincidents of the horrible and unnatural deeds jealousy had made mencommit, from the days of the first murderer. 

His address was listened to in profoundest silence. The charge he madeout was a terribly strong one, and when he sat down and the firstwitness was called the hearts of Sir Everard Kingsland's friends sunklike lead. 

He pleaded "Not guilty!" with an eye that flashed and a voice whichrang, and a look in his pale, proud face that no murderer's face everwore on this earth, and with those two words he had carried convictionto many a doubter. 

"Call Sybilla Silver. "

All in black--in trailing crape and sables, tall, stately, anddignified as a young duchess--Sybilla Silver obeyed the call. 

She was deeply veiled at first, and when she threw back the heavy blackveil, and the dark, bright, beautiful face looked full at judge andjury, a low murmur thrilled through the throng. 

Those who saw her for the first time stared in wonder and admiration atthe tall young woman in black, with the face and air of an Indianqueen, and those to whom she was known thought that Miss Silver hadnever, since they saw her first, looked half as handsome as she didthis day. 

Her brilliant bloom of color was gone; she was interestingly pale, andher great black eyes were unnaturally deep and mournful. 

"Your name is Sybilla Silver, and you reside at Kingsland Court. Maywe ask in what character--as friend or domestic?"

"As both. Sir Everard Kingsland has been my friend and benefactor fromthe first. I have been treated as a confidential friend both by himand his mother. "

"By the deceased Lady Kingsland also, I conclude?"

"I was in the late Lady Kingsland's confidence--yes. "

"You were the last who saw her alive on the night of March tenth--thenight of the murder?"

"I was. "

"Where did you part from her?"

"At her own chamber door. We bade each other good-night, and I retiredto rest immediately. "

"What hour was that?"

"About ten minutes before eleven. "

"What communication were you making to Lady Kingsland at that hour?"

"I came to tell her the household had all retired--that she could quitthe house unobserved whenever she chose. "

"You knew, then, that she had an assignation for that night?"

"I did. It was I who brought her the message. She was to meet Mr. Parmalee at midnight, on the stone terrace. "

"Who was this Mr. Parmalee?"

"An American gentleman--a traveling photographic artist, between whomand my lady a secret existed. "

"A secret unknown to her husband?"

"Yes. "

"And this secret was the cause of their mysterious midnight meeting?"

"It was. Mr. Parmalee dare not come to the house. Sir Everard haddriven him forth with blows and abuse, and forbidden him to enter thegrounds. My lady knew this, and was forced to meet him by stealth. "

"Where was Sir Everard on this night?"

"At a military dinner given by Major Morrell, here in Worrel. "

"What time did he return to Kingsland Court?"

"At half past eleven, as nearly as I can judge. I did not see him forsome ten or fifteen minutes after; then Claudine, my lady's maid, cameand aroused me--said Sir Everard was in my lady's dressing-room andwished to see me at once. "

"You went?"

"I went immediately. I found Sir Everard in a state of passionate furyno words can describe. By some means he had learned of theassignation; through an anonymous note left upon his dressing-table, hesaid. "

"Did you see this note?"

"I did not. He had none in his hand, nor have I seen any since. "

"What did the prisoner say to you?"

"He asked me where was his wife--he insisted that I knew. He demandedan answer in such a way I dared not disobey. "

"You told him?"

"I did. 'Is she with him?' he said, grasping my arm, and I answered, 'Yes. '"

"And then?"

"He asked me, 'Where?' and I told him; and he flung me from him, like amadman, and rushed out of the house, swearing, in an awful voice, 'I'llhave their hearts' blood!'"

"Was it the first time you ever heard him threaten his wife's life?"

"No; the second. Once before I heard him say to her, at the close of adreadful quarrel, 'If ever you meet that man again, I'll murder you, bythe living Lord!'"

"What was the cause of the quarrel?"

"She had met Mr. Parmalee, by night and by stealth, in Sir Everard'sabsence, in the Beech Walk. "

"And he discovered it?"

"He did. Edwards, his valet, had gone out with me to look for somearticle I had lost, and by chance we came upon them. We saw her givehim money; we saw her dreadfully frightened; and when Edwards met hismaster again his face betrayed him--we had to tell him all. "

"Did any one hear the prisoner use those words, 'I'll have theirhearts' blood!' on the night of the murder, but yourself?"

"Yes; Edwards, his valet, and Claudine, the lady's maid. We crouchedtogether in the hall, frightened almost to death. "

"When did the prisoner reappear?"

"In little over half an hour. He rushed in in the same wild way he hadrushed out--like a man gone mad. "

"What did he say?"

"He shouted, 'It is false--a false, devilish slander! She is notthere!'"

"Well--and then?"

"And then Claudine shrieked aloud and pointed to his hands. They weredripping with blood!"

"Did he attempt any explanation?"

"Not then. His first words were, as if he spoke in spite of himself:'Blood! blood! Good God, it is hers! She is murdered!'"

"You say he offered no explanation then. Did he afterward?"

"I believe so. Not to me, but to others. He said his foot slipped onthe stone terrace, and his hand splashed in a pool of something--hiswife's blood. "

"Can you relate what followed?"

"There was the wildest confusion. Claudine fainted. Sir Everardshouted for lights and men. 'There has been a horrible murder done, 'he said. 'Fetch lights and follow me!' and then we all rushed to thestone terrace. "

"And there you saw--what?"

"Nothing but blood. It was stained and clotted with blood everywhere;and so was the railing, as though a bleeding body had been cast overinto the sea. On a projecting spike, as though torn off in the fall, we found my lady's India scarf. "

"You think, then, he cast the body over after the deed was done?"

"I am morally certain he did. There was no other way of disposing ofit. The tide was at flood, the current strong, and it was swept awayat once. "

"What was the prisoner's conduct on the terrace?"

"He fainted stone-dead before he was there five minutes. They had tocarry him lifeless to the house. "

"Was it not on that occasion the scabbard marked with his initials wasdiscovered?"

"It was. One of the men picked it up. The dagger hidden in theelm-tree was found by the detective later. "

"You recognized them both? You had seen them before in the possessionof the prisoner?"

"Often. He brought the dagger from Paris. It used to lie on hisdressing-table. "

"Where he said he found the anonymous note?"

"Yes. "

"Now Miss Silver, " said the prosecuting attorney, "from what you saidat the inquest and from what you have let drop to-day, I infer that mylady's secret was no secret to you. Am I right?"

There was a momentary hesitation--a rising: flush, a drooping of thebrilliant eyes, then Miss Silver replied:

"Yes. "

"How did you learn it?"

"Mr. Parmalee himself told me. "

"You were Mr. Parmalee's intimate friend, then, it appears?"

"Y-e-e-s. "

"Was he only a friend? He was a young man, and an unmarried one, as Iam given to understand, and you, Miss Silver, are--pardon myboldness--a very handsome young lady. "

Miss Silver's handsome face drooped lower. She made no reply. 

"Answer, if you please, " blandly insinuated the lawyer. "You havegiven your evidence hitherto with most unfeminine and admirablestraightforwardness. Don't let us have a hitch now. Was this Mr. Parmalee a suitor of yours?"

"He was. "

"An accepted one, I take it?"

"Y-e-e-s. "

"And you know nothing now of his whereabouts? That is strange. "

"It is strange, but no less true than strange. I have never seen orheard of Mr. Parmalee since the afternoon preceding that fatal night. "

"How did you see him then?"

"He had been up to London for a couple of days on business connectedwith my lady; he had returned that afternoon with another person; hesent for me to inform my lady. I met and spoke to him on the street, just beyond the Blue Bell Inn. "

"What had he to say to you?"

"Very little. He told me to tell my lady to meet him precisely atmidnight, on the stone terrace. Before midnight the murder was done. What became of him, why he did not keep his appointment, I do not know. He left the inn very late, paid his score, and has never been seen orheard of since. 

"Had he any interest in Lady Kingsland's death?"

"On the contrary, all his interest lay in her remaining alive. Whileshe lived, he held a secret which she intended to pay him well to keep. Her death blights all his pecuniary prospects, and Mr. Parmalee lovedmoney. "

"Miss Silver, who was the female who accompanied Mr. Parmalee fromLondon, and who quitted the Blue Bell Inn with him late on the night ofthe tenth?"

Again Sybilla hesitated, looked down, and seemed confused. 

"It is not necessary, is it?" said she, pleadingly. "I had rather nottell. It--it is connected with the secret, and I am bound by apromise----"

"Which I think we must persuade you to break, " interrupted the debonairattorney. "I think this secret will throw a light on the matter, andwe must have it. Extreme cases require extreme measures, my dear younglady. Throw aside your honorable scruples, break your promise, andtell us this secret which has caused a murder. "

Sybilla Silver looked from judge to jury, from counsel to counsel, andclasped her hands. 

"Don't ask me!" she cried--"oh, pray, don't ask me to tell this!"

"But we must--it is essential--we must have it, Miss Silver. Come, take courage. It can do no harm now, you know--the poor lady is dead. And first--to plunge into the heart of it at once--tell us who was themysterious lady with Mr. Parmalee?"

The hour of Sybilla's triumph had come. She lifted her black eyes, glittering with livid flame, and shot a quick, sidelong glance at theprisoner. Awfully white, awfully calm, he sat like a man of stone, awaiting to hear what would cost him his life. 

"Who was she?" the lawyer repeated. 

Sybilla turned toward him and answered, in a voice plainly audible thelength and breadth of the, long room:

"She called herself Mrs. Denover. Mr. Parmalee called her his sister. Both were false. She was Captain Harold Hunsden's divorced wife, LadyKingsland's mother, and a lost, degraded outcast!"

CHAPTER XXXI. 

FOUND GUILTY. 

There was the silence of death. Men looked blankly in each other'sfaces, then at the prisoner. With an awfully corpse-like face, andwild, dilated eyes, he sat staring at the witness--struck dumb. 

The silence was broken by the lawyer. 

"This is a very extraordinary statement, Miss Silver, " he said. "Areyou quite certain of its truth? It is an understood thing that thelate Captain Hunsden was a widower. "

"He was nothing of the sort. It suited his purpose to be thought so. Captain Hunsden was a very proud man. It is scarcely likely he wouldannounce his bitter shame to the world. "

"And his daughter was cognizant of these facts?"

"Only from the night of her father's death. On that night he revealedto her the truth, under a solemn oath of secrecy. Previous to that shehad believed her mother dead. That death-bed oath was the cause of allthe trouble between Sir Everard and his wife. Lady Kingsland wouldhave died rather than break it. "

She glanced again--swift, keen, sidelong, a glance of diabolicaltriumph--at the prisoner. But he did not see it, he only heard thewords--the words that seemed burning to the core of his heart. 

This, then, was the secret, and the wife he had loved and doubted andscorned had been true to him as truth itself; and now he knew her worthand purity and high honor when it was too late. 

"How came Mr. Parmalee to be possessed of the secret? Was he arelative?"

"No. He learned the story by the merest accident. He left New Yorkfor England in his professional capacity as photographic artist, onspeculation. On board the steamer was a woman--a steeragepassenger--poor, ill, friendless, and alone. He had a kindly heart, itappears, under his passion for money-making, and when this woman--thisMrs. Denover--fell ill, he nursed her as a son might. One night, whenshe thought herself dying, she called him to her bedside and told himher story. "

Clear and sweet Sybilla Silver's voice rang from end to end, each wordcutting mercilessly through the unhappy prisoner's very soul. 

"Her maiden name had been Maria Denover, and she was a native of NewYork City. At the age of eighteen an English officer met her while ona visit to Niagara, fell desperately in love with her, and married herout of hand. 

"Even at that early age she was utterly lost and abandoned; and sheonly married Captain Hunsden in a fit of mad desperation and ragebecause John Thorndyke, her lover, scornfully refused to make her hiswife. 

"Captain Hunsden took her with him to Gibraltar, where his regiment wasstationed, serenely unconscious of his terrible disgrace. One yearafter a daughter was born, but neither husband nor child could win thiswoman from the man she passionately loved. 

"She urged her husband to take her back to New York to see her friends;she pleaded with a vehemence he could not resist, and in an evil hourhe obeyed. 

"Again she met her lover. Three weeks after the wronged husband andall the world knew the revolting story of her degradation. She hadfled with Thorndyke. "

Sybilla paused to let her words take effect. Then she slowly went on:

"There was a divorce, of course; the matter was hushed up as much aspossible; Captain Hunsden went back to his regiment a broken-heartedman. 

"Two years after he sailed for England, but not to remain. How hewandered over the world, his daughter accompanying him, from that timeuntil he returned to Hunsden Hall, every one knows. But during allthat time he never heard one word of or from his lost wife. 

"She remained with Thorndyke--half starved, brutally beaten, horriblyill-used--taunted from the first by him, and hated at the last. Butshe clung to him through all, as women do cling; she had given up thewhole world for his sake; she must bear his abuse to the end. And shedid, heroically. 

"He died--stabbed in a drunken brawl--died with her kneeling by hisside, and his last word an oath. He died and was buried, and she wasalone in the world as miserable a woman as the wide earth ever held. 

"One wish alone was strong within her--to look again upon her childbefore she died. She had no wish to speak to her, to reveal herself, only to look once more upon her face, then lie down by the road-sideand die. 

"She knew she was married and living here; Thorndyke had maliciouslykept her _au fait_ of her husband and child. She sold all shepossessed but the rags upon her back, and took a steerage passage forEngland. 

"That was the story she told Mr. Parmalee. 'You will go toDevonshire, ' she said to him; 'you will see my child. Tell her I diedhumbly praying her forgiveness. She is rich; she will reward you. '

"Mr. Parmalee immediately made up his mind that this sick woman, whohad a daughter the wife of a wealthy baronet, was a great deal toovaluable, in a pecuniary light, to be allowed 'to go off the hooks, ' ashe expressed it, thus easily. 

"He pooh-poohed the notion of her dying, cheered her up, nursed herassiduously, and finally brought her around. He left her in London, posted down here, and remained here until the return of Sir Everard andmy lady from their honey-moon trip. The day after he presented himselfto them--displayed his pictures, and among others showed my lady hermother's portrait, taken at the time of her marriage. She recognizedit at once--her father had left her its counterpart on the night hedied. He knew her secret, and she had to meet him if he chose. Hethreatened to tell Sir Everard else, and the thought of her husbandever discovering her mother's shame was agony to her. She knew howproud he was, how proud his mother was, and she would have died to savehim pain. And that is why she met Mr. Parmalee by night and bystealth--why she gave him money--why all the horrors that have followedoccurred. "

Once more the cruel, clear, unfaltering voice paused. A groan brokethe silence--a groan of such unutterable anguish and despair from thetortured husband that every heart thrilled to hear it. 

With that agonized groan, his face dropped in his hands, and he neverraised it again. He heard no more--he sat bowed, paralyzed, crushedwith misery and remorse. His wife--his lost wife--had been as pure andstainless as the angels, and he--oh, pitiful God! how merciless he hadbeen!

Sybilla Silver was dismissed; other witnesses were called. Edwards andClaudine were the only ones examined that day, Sybilla had occupied thecourt so long. They corroborated all she had said. The prisoner wasremanded, and the court adjourned. 

The night of agony which followed to the wretched prisoner no words canever tell. All he had suffered hitherto seemed as nothing. Menrecoiled in horror at the sight of him next day; it was as if agalvanized corpse had entered the court-room. 

He sat in dumb misery, neither heeding nor hearing. Only once was hisattention dimly aroused. It was at the evidence of a boy--a raggedyouth of some fifteen years, who gave his name as Bob Dawson. 

"He had been out late on that 'ere night. It was between ten andeleven that he was a-dodgin' round near the stone terrace. Then hesees a lady a-waitin', which the moon was shining on her face, and heknowed my lady herself. He dodged more than hever at the sight, andpeeked round a tree. Just then came along a tall gent in a cloak, likeSir Everard wears, and my lady screeches out at sight of him. SirEverard, he spoke in a deep, 'orrid voice, and the words were sohawful, he--Bob Dawson--remembered them from that day to this. 

"'I swore by the Lord who made me I would murder you if you ever metthat man again. False wife, accursed traitoress, meet your doom!'

"And then my lady screeches out again and says to him--she says:

"'Have mercy! I am innocent, Heverard! Oh, for God's sake, do notmurder me!'

"And Sir Heverard, he says, fierce and 'orrid:

"'Wretch, die! You are not fit to pollute the hearth! Go to yourgrave with my 'ate and my cuss!'

"And then, " cried Bob Dawson, trembling all over as he told it, "I seehim lift that there knife, gentlemen, and stab her with all his might, and she fell back with a sort of groan, and he lifts her up and pitchesof her over hinto the sea. And then he cuts, he does, and I--I wasfrightened most hawful, and I cut, too. "

"Why did you not tell this before?" the judge asked. 

"'Cos I was scared--I was, " Bob replied, in tears. "I didn't know butthat they might took and hang me for seeing it. I told mammy the othernight, and mammy she came and told the gent there, " pointing one fingerat the counsel for the crown, "and he said I must come and tell ithere; and that's all I've got to tell, and I'm werry sorry as hever Iseed it, and it's all true, s'help me!"

Sybilla Silver's eyes fairly blazed with triumphant fire. Her master, the arch-fiend, seemed visibly coming to her aid; and the mostmiserable baronet pressed his hand to his throbbing head. 

There was the summing up of the evidence--one damning mass against theprisoner. There was the judge's charge to the jury. Sir Everard heardno words--saw nothing. He fell into a stunned stupor that was indeedlike madness. 

The jury retired--vaguely he saw them go. They returned. Was itminutes or hours they had been gone? His dulled eyes looked at themexpressionless. 

"How say you, gentlemen of the jury--guilty or not guilty?"

"Guilty!"

Amid dead silence the word fell. Every heart thrilled with awe butone. The condemned man sat staring at them with an awful, dull, glazedstare. 

The judge arose and put on his black cap, his face white, his lipstrembling. 

Only the last words seemed to strike him--to crash into his whirlingbrain with a noise like thunder. 

"And that there you be hanged by the neck until dead, and may the Lordhave mercy upon your soul!"

He sat down. The awful silence was something indescribable. One ortwo women in the gallery fainted, then the hush was broken in ablood-curdling manner. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

SYBILLA'S TRIUMPH. 

It was the night before the execution. In his feebly lighted cell thecondemned man sat alone, trying to read by the palely glimmering lamp. The New Testament lay open before him, and on this, the last night ofhis life, he was reading the story of Gethsemane and Calvary. On thislast night heart and soul were at rest, and an infinite calm illuminedevery feature. 

Weeks had passed since the day when sentence of death had beenpronounced upon him, and the condemned man had lain burning in the wilddelirium of brain fever. 

Sybilla Silver had been his most sleepless, his most devoted attendant. Her evidence had wrung his heart--had condemned him to the mostshameful death man can die; but she had only told the truth, and truthis mighty and will prevail. So she came and nursed him now, forgettingto eat or sleep in her zeal and devotion, and finally wooed him back tolife and reason, while those who loved him best prayed God, by nightand by day, that he might die. 

But, while hovering in the "Valley of the Shadow, " death had lost allits terror for him--he rose a changed man. 

"And she is there, " he said, with his eyes fixed dreamily on the onepatch of blue May sky he could see between his prison bars--"mywronged, my murdered, my beloved wife! Ah, yes, death is the highestboon the judges of this world can give me now!"

And so the last night came. He sat alone. The jailer who was to sharehis cell on this last, awful vigil had been bribed to leave him byhimself until the latest moment. 

"Come in before midnight, " he said, smiling slightly, "and guard mewhile I sleep, if you wish. Until then, I should like to be left quitealone. "

And the man obeyed, awed unutterably by the sublime look of that marbleface. 

"He never did it, " he said to his wife. "No murderer ever looked withsuch clear eyes and such a sweet smile as that. Sir Everard Kingslandis as hinnocent as a hangel, and there'll be a legal murder doneto-morrow. I wish it was that she-devil that swore his life awayinstead, I'd turn her off myself with the greatest pleasure. "

As if his thoughts had evoked her, a tall dark figure stood beforehim--Miss Sybilla Silver herself. 

"Good Lord!" cried the jailer, aghast; "who'd a-thought it? What doyou want?"

"To see the prisoner, " responded Sybilla. 

"You can't see him, then, " said the jailer, gruffly. "He ain't goingto see anybody this last night, ma'am. "

"Mr. Markham"--she came over and laid her velvet paw on his arm, andmagnetized him with her big black eyes--"think better of it. It is hislast night. His mother lies on the point of death. I come here with alast sacred message from a dying mother to a dying son. You have anaged mother yourself, Mr. Markham. Ah! think again, and don't be hardupon us. "

A sovereign slipped into his palm. 

"For only half an hour, then, " he said; "mind that. Come along!"

The key clanked; the door swung back. The pale prisoner lifted hisserene eyes; the tall, dark figure stepped in. 

"Sybilla!"

"Yes, Sir Everard. "

The great door closed with a bang. 

"Half an hour, mind, " reiterated the jailer. 

The key turned; they were alone together within those massive walls. 

"I thought we parted yesterday for the last time in this lower world, "said the baronet, calmly. 

"Did you? You were mistaken, then. We meet again and part againforever to-night, for the last time in this lower world, or that upperone either, in which you believe, and which I know to be a very prettylittle fable. "

She laughed a low, derisive laugh, and came up close to him. He shuthis book, and looked at her in wonder. 

"What do you mean? Why have you come hither to-night? Why do you looklike that? What is it all?"

"It is this! That the mask worn two long years is about to be tornoff. It means that you are to hear the truth; it means that thepurpose of my life is fulfilled; it means that the hour of my triumphhas come. "

He sat and looked at her, lost in wonder. 

"You do not speak--you sit and stare as though you could not believeyour eyes or ears. It is hard to believe, I know--the humble, the meekSybilla metamorphosed thus. But the Sybilla Silver you knew was adelusion. Behold the real one, for the first time in your life!"

"Woman, who are you? What are you?"

"I am the granddaughter of Zenith the gypsy, the woman your fatherwronged to the death, and your bitterest enemy, Sir Everard Kingsland!"

"The granddaughter of Zenith the gypsy?" he repeated. "Then SybillaSilver is not your name?"

"The name is as false as the character in which she showedherself--that of your friend. "

"And yet, the first time we met you saved my life. "

"No thanks for that. I did not know you, though if I had I would havesaved it, all the same. That was not the death you were to die. Isaved you for the gallows. "

"Sybilla, Sybilla!"

"I saved you for the gallows!" she repeated. "I come here to-night totell you the truth, and you shall hear it. Did I not swear your lifeaway? Did I not nurse you back from the jaws of death? All for what?That the astrologer's prediction might be fulfilled--that the heir ofKingsland Court might die a felon's death on the scaffold!"

"The astrologer's prediction?" he cried, catching some of herexcitement. "What do you know about that?"

"Everything--everything!" she exclaimed, exultingly. "Far more thanyou do, for you only know such a thing exists--you know nothing of itscontents. Oh, no! mamma guarded her darling boy too carefully forthat, notwithstanding your dying father's command. But in spite of herit has come true. "

"What was the astrologer's prediction--that terrible prediction thatshortened my father's life?"

"It was this--that his only son and heir, born on that night, would dieby the hand of the common hangman, a murderer's death on the scaffold. Enough to blight any father's life who believed in it, was it not?"

"It was devilish. My poor father! Tell me the name of the fiendincarnate who could do so diabolical a deed, for you know?"

"I do. That man was my father. "

"Your father?"

"Ay, Achmet the Astrologer. Ha! ha! As much an astrologer as you orI. It was his part of our vengeance--my part was to see it carriedout. I swore, by my dying mother's bedside, to devote my life to thatpurpose. Have I not kept my oath?"

She folded her arms and looked at him with a face of devilishmalignity. He recoiled from her as from a visible demon. 

"For God's sake, go! You bring a breath of hell into this prison. Go--go! You have done your master's work. Leave me!"

"Not yet; you have heard but half the truth. Oh, potent Prince ofKingsland, hear me out! You will be hanged tomorrow morning formurdering your wife! You didn't murder her, did you? Who do yousuppose did it?"

He rose to his feet, staggered back against the wall, his eyes startingfrom their sockets. 

"Great God!"

"Ah, you anticipate, I see. Yes, my lord of Kingsland, I murdered yourpretty little wife! Keep off! I have a pistol here, and I'll blowyour brains out if you come one step nearer--if you utter a word! Idon't want to cheat Jack Ketch, if I can. And it is no use your cryingfor help--there is no one to hear, and these stone walls are thick. Stand there, my rich, my noble, my princely brother, and listen to thetruth. "

He stood, holding by the wall, paralyzed with horror. 

"Yes, I murdered her!" Sybilla reiterated, with sneering triumph. "Disguised in your clothes, using your dagger; and she died, believingit to be you. All I told, and all the boy Dawson told at the trial wastrue as the Heaven you believe in. Your wife was true as truth, pureas the angels. She loved only you--she loved you with her whole heartand soul. Her vow by the bedside of her dying father chained hertongue. To save you the shame, the humiliation of learning the truthabout her degraded mother, she met in secret this Mr. Parmalee. Onthat night she went to the stone terrace to see her mother, for thefirst, the last, the only time. I arranged it all--I lured herthere--I stabbed her, and flung her over into the sea! I hated her foryour sake--I hated her for her own. And to-morrow, for my crime, youwill die!"

And still he gazed, paralyzed, stunned, speechless. 

"Poor fool!" she said, with unutterable scorn--"poor, blind, besottedfool! and this is the end of all! Young, handsome, rich, high-born, surrounded by friends, the wealthy and the great, one woman's workbrings you to this! I have said my say, and now I leave you; here wepart, Sir Everard Kingsland. Call the jailer; tell him what I havetold you--tell it through the length and breadth of the land, if youchoose. Not one will believe you. It is an utterly mad and impossibletale. I have only to calmly and scornfully deny it. And to-morrow, when the glorious sun rises I will be far away. In Spain, the land ofmy mother and my grandmother, I go to join our race--to become adweller in tents--a gypsy, free as the wind that blows. The gold yourlavish hand has given me will make me and my tribe rich for life. I goto be their queen. Farewell, Sir Everard Kingsland. My half hour hasexpired; the jailer comes to let me out. But first I go straight fromhere to Kingsland Court, to tell your mother what I have just toldyou--to tell her her idolized son dies for my crime, and to kill her, if I can, with the news. "

The door swung open--Miss Silver flitted out. It broke the spell. Theprisoner started forward, tried hoarsely, vainly to speak. Enfeebledby long illness, by repeated shocks, he staggered a pace or two andfell face forward at the jailer's feet like a log. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH. 

And while Sir Everard Kingsland lay in his felon's cell, doomed to die, where was she for whose murder he was to give his life? Reallymurdered?

Harriet--Lady Kingsland--was not dead. Hundreds of miles of sea andland rolled between her and Kingsland Court, and in a stately New Yorkmansion she looked out at the sparkling April sunshine, with life andhealth beating strong in her breast. 

Mr. George Washington Parmalee had saved her life. On that tragicnight of March tenth, he had quitted the Blue Bell with Mrs. Denover, and descended at once to the shore, where a boat from the "AngelinaDobbs" was awaiting them. 

Mr. Parmalee took the oars and rowed away in the direction of the park. The sickly glimmer of the moon showed him the stone terrace and thesolitary figure standing waiting there. But the noise of the wash onthe beach and the sighing of the trees prevented Harriet from hearingthe dip of the sculls. On the sea the night was so dark that the boatglided along unseen. 

He had neared the spot and rowed softly along under the deep shadow ofoverhanging trees, when he espied a second figure, muffled in a cloak, emerge and confront the lady. He recognized, or thought he recognized, the baronet, and came to a deadlock, with a stifled imprecation. 

"It's all up with them three hundred pounds this bout, " he thought;"confound the luck!"

He could not hear the words--the distance was too great--but he couldsee them plainly. The wild shriek of Lady Kingsland would have beenechoed by her terrified mother had not the artist clapped his handfirmly over her mouth. 

"Darnation! Dry up, can't you? Oh, good God!"

He started up in horror, nearly upsetting the boat. He had seen thefatal blow given, he saw the body hurled over the railing, and he sawthe face of the murderer!

A flash of moonlight shone full upon it bending down, and herecognized, in men's clothes, the woman who was to be his wife. 

The assassin fled. As she vanished G. W. Parmalee looked up with ahollow groan, remained irresolute for an instant, shook himself, andtook up the oars. 

"We must pick up the body, " he said, in an unearthly voice. "The waveswill wash it away in five minutes. "

He rowed ashore, lifted the lifeless form, carried it into the boat, and laid it across the mother's knee. 

"We'll put for the 'Angelina, '" he observed. "If there's any lifeleft, we'll fetch her to there. "

"Her heart beats, " said Mrs. Denover, raining tears and kisses on thecold face. "Oh, my child, my child! it is your wretched mother who hasdone this!"

They reached the "Angelina Dobbs, " where they were impatiently waitedfor, and captain and crew stared aghast at sight of the supposed corpse. 

"Do you take the 'Angelina Dobbs' for a cemetery, Mr. Parmalee?"demanded Captain Dobbs, with asperity. "Who's that air corpse?"

"Come into the cabin and I'll tell you. "

There he heard, in wonder and pity, the story. 

"Poor creeter! Pretty as a picter, too! Who did the deed?"

"It looked like her husband, " replied Mr. Parmalee. "He was as jealousas a Turk, anyway. "

"She is not dead!" exclaimed Mrs. Denover; "her heart flutters. Oh!pray leave me alone with her; I think I know what to do. "

The men quitted the cabin. Mrs. Denover removed her daughter'sclothing and examined the wound. It was deep and dangerous looking, but not necessarily fatal--she knew that, and she had had considerableexperience during her rough life with John Thorndyke. She stanched theflow of blood, bathed and dressed the wound, and finally the dark eyesopened and looked vaguely in her face. 

"Who are you? Where am I?" very feebly. 

"I am your nurse, " she said, tremulously, "and you are with friends wholove you. "

"Ah! I remember. " A look of intense anguish crossed her face. "Youare my mother!"

"Your most wretched mother! Oh, my darling, I am not worthy to look inyour face!"

"You are all that is left to me now--ah, Heaven pity me!--since hethinks me guilty. I remember all. He tried to murder me; he called mea name I will never forget. Mother, how came I here? Is this a ship?"

Very gently, softly, soothingly the mother told how Mr. Parmalee hadsaved her life. 

"And where are we going now?"

"To Southampton, I think. But we will return if you wish it. "

"To the man who tried to take my life? Ah, no, mother! Never again inthis world to him! Call Mr. Parmalee. "

"My dear, you must not talk so much; you are not able. "

"Call Mr. Parmalee. "

Mrs. Denover obeyed. 

The artist presented himself promptly, quite overjoyed. 

"Why, now, " said Mr. Parmalee, "I'd rather see this than have athousand dollars down. Why, you look as spry almost as ever. How doyou feel?"

"You have been very good to me and my mother. Be good until the end. If I die, bury me where he will never hear of my death nor look upon mygrave. If I live, take me back to New York--I have friends there--anddon't let him know whether I am living or dead. "

"I'll do it! It's a go! I owe him one for that kicking, and, by Jove!here's a chance to pay him. Jest you keep up heart and get well, andwe'll take you to New York in the 'Angelina Dobbs, ' and nobody be thewiser. "

Mr. Parmalee kept his word. They lay aboard the vessel while loadingat Southampton, and a surgeon was in daily attendance upon the sickgirl. 

"You fetch her round, " said Mr. Parmalee. "She's the skipper's onlydaughter--this 'ere craft, the 'Angelina Dobbs, ' is named afterher--and he'll foot the bill like a lud. "

The surgeon did his best, and was liberally paid out of the threehundred pounds which Mrs. Denover had found in the bosom of Harriet'sdress. But for days and weeks she lay very ill--ill untodeath--delirious, senseless. Then the fever yielded, and death-likeweakness ensued. 

This, too, passed; and by the time the "Angelina" reached New York, thepoor girl was able to saunter up and down the deck, and drink in thelife-giving sea air. 

Thus, while fruitless search was being made for G. W. Parmaleethroughout London--while detectives examined every passenger who sailedin the emigrant ships--he was safely skimming the Atlantic in CaptainDobb's cockleshell. 

To do him justice, he never thought--and no more did Harriet--of whatmight follow her disappearance. The baronet would leave the country, they both imagined, and her fate would remain forever a mystery. 

So the supposed dead bride reached New York in safety, and that bodywashed ashore and identified by Sybilla Silver, to suit her own ends, was some nameless unfortunate. 

On the pier in New York Mr. Parmalee and Lady Kingsland parted. 

"I am going to my uncle's house, " she said; "my mother's brother. HughDenover is a rich merchant, and will receive us, I know. Keep my storysecret, and come and see me next time you visit New York. Here is myuncle's address; give me yours, and if ever it is in my power, I willnot forget how nobly you have acted and how inadequately you have beenrepaid. "

They shook hands and parted. 

Mr. Parmalee went "down East, " not at all satisfied with his littleEnglish speculation. He had lost a handsome reward and a handsomerwife. He dared hardly think to himself that Sybilla had done thehorrid deed, and he had never breathed his suspicion to Harriet. 

"Let her think it's the baronet, if she's a mind to. I ain't a-goingto do him a good turn. But I know better. "

Harriet and her mother sought out Mr. Denover. He lived in a statelyup-town mansion, with his wife and one son, and received both poorwaifs with open arms. His lost sister had been his boyhood's pet; hehad nothing for her now but pity and forgiveness, when she looked athim with death in her face. 

"My poor Maria, don't talk of the wretched past. I love my only sisterin spite of all, and neither she nor her child shall want a home whileI have one. "

Harriet told her story very briefly. Her father had been dead for twoyears. She had married; she had not lived happily with her husband, and they had parted. She had come to Uncle Hugh; she knew he wouldgive his sister's daughter a home. 

She told her story with dry eyes and unfaltering voice; but Mr. Denover, looking in that pale, rigid young face, read more of herdespair than she dreamed. 

"Her husband has been some English grandee, like Captain Hunsden, Idare say, " he thought, "proud as Lucifer, and when he discovered thatabout her mother, despised and ill-treated her. "

The penitent wife of Captain Hunsden did not long survive to enjoy hernew home. Two weeks after their arrival she lay upon her death-bed. Nothing could save her. She had been doomed for months--life gave waywhen the excitement that had buoyed her up was gone. 

By night and day Harriet watched by her bedside, and the repentantMagdalen's last hours were the most blessed she had ever known. 

"I do not deserve to die like this, " she said. "Oh, my darling, yourlove makes my death-bed very sweet!"

They laid her in Greenwood, and once more Harriet's desolation seemedrenewed. 

"I am doomed to lose all I love, " she thought, despairingly--"father, husband, mother--all!"

She drooped day by day, despite the tenderest care. No smile everlighted her pale face, no happy light ever shone from the mournful darkeyes. 

"Her heart is broken, " said Uncle Hugh; "she will die by inches beforeour very eyes!"

And Uncle Hugh's prediction might have been fulfilled had not a newexcitement arisen to stimulate her to renewed life and send her back toEngland. 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

MR. PARMALEE TURNS UP TRUMPS. 

Mr. G. W. Parmalee went down to Dobbsville, Maine, and reposed again inthe bosom of his family. He went to work on the paternal acres forawhile, gave that up in disgust, set up once more a picture-gallery, and took the portraits of the ladies and gentlemen of Dobbsville atfifty cents a head. 

Mr. Parmalee was fast becoming a misanthrope. His speculation hadfailed, his love was lost; nothing lay before him but a long and drearyexistence spent in immortalizing in tin-types the belles and beaus ofDobbsville. 

Sometimes a fit of penitence overtook him when his thoughts reverted tothe desolate young creature, worse than widowed, dragging out life inNew York. 

"I'd ought to tell her, " Mr. Parmalee thought. "It ain't right to lether keep on thinking that her husband murdered her. But then it goesawfully against a feller's grain to peach on the girl he meant tomarry. Still----"

The remorseful reflection haunted him, do what he would. He took todreaming of the young baronet, too. Once he saw him in his shroud, lying dead on the stone terrace, and at sight of him the corpse hadrisen up, ghastly in its grave clothes, and, pointing one quiveringfinger at him, said, in an awful voice:

"G. W. Parmalee, it is you who have done this!"

And Mr. Parmalee had started up in bed, the cold sweat standing on hisbrow like a shower of pease. 

"I won't stand this, by thunder!" thought the artist next morning, in afit of desperation. "I'll write up to New York this very day and tellher all, so help me Bob!"

But "_l'homme propose_"--you know the proverb. Squire Brown, who livedhalf a mile off, and had never heard of Harriet in his life, alteredMr. Parmalee's plans. 

The worthy squire, jogging along in his cart from market, came upon theartist, sitting on the top rail of the gate, whittling, and lookinggloomily dejected. 

"Hi! George, my boy!" cried out the squire, "what's gone wrong? Youlook as dismal as a graveyard!"

"W-a-a-l!" drawled the artist, who wasn't going to tell his troubles onthe house-tops, "there ain't nothin' much to speak of. It's theall-fired dullness of this pesky one-horse village, where there ain'tnothin' stirrin', 'cept flies in fly-time, from one year's end tot'other. "

"See what comes of traveling, " said Squire Brown. "If you had stayedat home, instead of flying round England, you'd have been as right as atrivet. My 'pinion is, you've been and left a gal behind. Here's aLondon paper for you. My missus gets 'em every mail. Perhaps you'llsee your gal's name in the list of marriages. "

Mr. Parmalee took the paper chucked at him with languid indifference. 

"Any news?" he asked. 

"Lots--just suited to your complaint. A coal mine in Cornwall's beenand caved in and buried alive fifteen workmen; there's been a horridriot in Leeds; and a baronet in Devonshire is sentenced to be hung formurdering his wife. "

Mr. Parmalee gave one yell--one horrid yell, like a Comanchewar-whoop--and leaped off the fence. 

"What did you say?" he roared. "A baronet in Devonshire for murderinghis wife?"

"Thunder!" ejaculated Squire Brown. "You didn't know him, did you?Maybe you took his picture when in England? Yes, a baronet, and hisname it's Sir Everard Kingsland. "

With an unearthly groan, Mr. Parmalee tore open the paper. 

"They haven't hanged him yet, have they?" he gasped. "Oh, good Lordabove! what have I done?"

Squire Brown stared, a spectacle of dense bewilderment. 

"You didn't do the murder, I hope?" he asked. 

The squire rode away, and Mr. Parmalee sat for a good hour, halfstupefied over the account. The paper contained a resume of the trial, from first to last--dwelling particularly on Miss Silver's evidence, and ending with the sentence of the court. 

The paper dropped from the artist's paralyzed hand. He covered hisface and sat in a trance of horror and remorse. His mother came tocall him to dinner, and as he looked up in answer to her call, shestarted back with a scream at sight of his unearthly face. 

"Lor' a-massy, George Washington! what ever has come to you?"

"Pack up my clean socks and shirts, mother, " he said. "I'm going backto England by the first steamer. "

Late next evening Mr. Parmalee reached New York. Early the followingmorning he strode up to the brownstone mansion of Mr. Denover andsharply rang the bell. 

"Is Lady--I mean, is Mr. Denover's niece to home?"

The servant ushered him into the drawing-room. 

"Who shall I say?"

Mr. Parmalee handed her his card. 

"Give her that. Tell her it's a matter of life and death. "

The servant stared, took the pasteboard and vanished. Ten minutesafter, and Harriet, in a white morning robe, pale and terrified, hurried in. 

"Mr. Parmalee, has anything--have you heard---- Oh, what is it?"

"It is this, Lady Kingsland: your husband has been arrested and triedfor your murder!"

She clasped her hands together and sunk into a seat. She did not cryout or exclaim. She sat aghast. 

"He has been tried and condemned, and----"

He could not finish the sentence, out of pity for that death-like face. 

But she understood him, and a scream rang through the house which thosewho heard it might never forget. 

"Oh, my God! he is condemned to be hanged!"

"He is, " said Mr. Parmalee; "but we'll stop 'em. Now, don't you go andexcite yourself, my lady, because you'll need all your strength andpresence of mind in this here emergency. There's a steamer forLiverpool to-morrow. I secured our passage before I ever came here. "

"May the great God grant we be in time! Oh, my love! my darling! myhusband! I never thought of this. Let me but save you, and I am readyto die!"

"Only hear her!" cried the electrified artist, "talking like that aboutthe man she thinks stabbed her. I do believe she loves him yet. "

"With my whole heart. I would die this instant to save him. I lovehim as dearly as when I stood beside him at the altar a blessed bride. "

"Well, I'll be darned, " burst out Mr. Parmalee, "if this don't beat allcreation! Now, then, what would you give to know it was not SirEverard who stabbed you that night?"

"Not Sir Everard? But I saw him; I heard him speak. He did it in amoment of madness, Mr. Parmalee, and Heaven only knows what anguish andremorse he has suffered since. "

"I hope so, " said Mr. Parmalee. "I hope he's gone through piles ofagony, for I don't like a bone in his body, if it comes to that. But, I repeat, it was not your husband who stabbed you on the stone terracethat dismal night. It was--it was Sybilla Silver!"

"What?"

"Yes, ma'am--sounds incredible, but it's a fact. She rigged out in asuit of Sir Everard's clothes, mimicked his voice, and did the deed. Isaw her face when she pitched you over the rail as plain as I seeyour'n this minute, and I'm ready to swear to it through all the courtsin Christendom. She hated you like pisen, and the baronet, too, andshe thinks she's put an end to you both; but if we don't give her aneye-opener pretty soon, my name ain't Parmalee. "

She sunk on her knees and held up her clasped hands. 

"Thank God! thank God! thank God!"

Next day they sailed for England. The passage was all that could bedesired, even by the impatience of Harriet. 

They arrived in Liverpool. Mr. Parmalee and his companion posted fullspeed down to Devonshire. In the luminous dusk of the soft May eveningthey reached Worrel, Harriet's thick veil hiding her from every eye. 

"We'll go to Mr. Bryson's first, " said Parmalee, Bryson being SirEverard's lawyer. "We're in the very nick of time; to-morrow morningat day-dawn is fixed for----"

"Oh, hush!" in a voice of agony; "not that fearful word!"

They reached the house of Mr. Bryson. He sat over his eight-o'clockcup of tea, with a very gloomy face. He had known Sir Everard all hislife--he had known his beautiful bride, so passionately beloved. Hehad bidden the doomed baronet a last farewell that afternoon. 

"He never did it, " said he to himself. "There is a horrible mysterysomewhere. He never did it--I could stake my life on hisinnocence--and he is to die to-morrow, poor fellow! That missing man, Parmalee, did it, and that fierce young woman with the big black eyesand deceitful tongue was his aider and abettor. If I could only findthat man!"

A servant entered with a card, "G. W. Parmalee. " The lawyer rose witha cry. 

"Good Heaven above! It can't be! It's too good to be true! He neverwould rush into the lion's den in this way. John Thomas, who gave youthis?"

"Which the gentleman is in the droring-room, sir, " responded JohnThomas, "as likewise the lady. "

Mr. Bryson rushed for the drawing-room, flung wide the door, andconfronted Mr. Parmalee. 

"Good-evening, squire, " said the American. 

"You here!" gasped the Sawyer--"the man for whom we have been scouringthe kingdom!"

"You'd oughter scoured the Atlantic, " replied the artist, with infinitecalm. "I've been home to see my folks. I suppose you wanted me tothrow a little light on that 'ere horrid murder?"

"I suspect you know more of that murder than any other man alive!" saidthe lawyer. 

"Do tell! Well, now, I ain't a-going to deny it--I do know all aboutit, squire. "

"What?"

"Precisely! Yes, sir. I saw the deed done. "

"You did? Good heavens!"

"Don't swear, squire. Yes, I saw the stab given, with that 'ere longknife; and it wasn't the baronet did it, either, though you're going tohang him for it to-morrow. "

"In Heaven's name, man, who did the deed?"

"Sybilla Silver!"

"I knew it--I thought it--I said it! The she-devil! Poor, poor LadyKingsland!"

"Ma'am, " said the American, turning to his veiled companion, "perhapsit will relieve Mr. Bryson's gushing bosom to behold your face. Jestlift that 'ere veil. "

"All-merciful Heaven! the dead alive! Lady Kingsland!"

CHAPTER XXXV. 

HIGHLY SENSATIONAL. 

Sybilla Silver went straight from the prison cell of Sir Everard to thesick-room of his mother. It was almost eleven when she reached theCourt, but they watched the night through in that house of mourning. 

Leaving the fly before the front entrance, Sybilla stole round to thatside door she had used the memorable night of March tenth. Sheadmitted herself without difficulty, and proceeded at once to LadyKingsland's sick-room. 

She tapped lightly at the door. It was opened instantly, and the paleface of Mildred looked out. 

"You here! How dare you, you cruel, wicked, merciless woman!" sheindignantly cried. 

"Hard words, Miss Kingsland. Let me in, if you please--I wish to seeyour mother. "

"You shall not come in! The sight of you will kill her! Was it notenough to swear away the life of her only son? Do you want to blasther dying hours with the sight of your base, treacherous face?"

With a look of scornful contempt, Sybilla took her by the shoulder anddrew her out of the room. 

"Don't be an idiot, Mildred Kingsland! I gave my evidence--how could Ihelp it? It wasn't my fault that your brother murdered his wife. Imust see your mother for ten minutes. I bring a last message from herson. "

"You have been to prison!" she cried. "You dare look my brother in theface!"

"Just as easily as I do his sister. Am I to see Lady Kingsland, orshall I go as I came, with Sir Everard's message undelivered?"

"The sight of you will kill her. "

"We must risk that. "

She passed into the room as she spoke. 

"Wait here, " she said. "I must see her quite alone, but it will onlybe for a few minutes. "

She closed the door and stood alone in the sick lady's room. 

"Is it you, Mildred? The light is too strong. "

"It is not Mildred, my lady. It is I. "

"Sybilla Silver!"

No words can describe the look of agony, of terror, of repulsion, thatcrossed my lady's face. She held up both hands with a gesture ofloathing and horror. 

"Keep off!" she cried. "You murderess!"

"Yes, " she cried, "that is the word--murderess!--for I murdered yourdaughter-in-law. You never liked her, you know, Lady Kingsland. Surely, then, when I stabbed her and threw her into the sea, I did youa good turn. Lie still, and listen to me. I have a long story to tellyou, beginning with the astrologer's prediction. "

With fiendish composure Sybilla repeated the story she had told SirEverard, while Lady Kingsland lay paralyzed and listened. 

The atrocious revelation ended, she looked at her prostrate foe with adiabolical smile. 

"My oath is kept; the prediction is fulfilled. In a few hours the lastof the Kingslands dies by the hand of the common hangman. I have toldyou all, and I dare you to injure one hair of my head. Within the hourmy journey from England commences. Search for last year's snow, forlast September's partridges, and when you find them you may hope tofind Sybilla Silver. Burn the prediction, destroy my grandmother'sportrait and lock of hair, so carefully hidden away for many years. Their work is done, and my vengeance is complete. Lady Kingsland, farewell!"

"Murderess!" spoke a deep and awful voice--"murderess! murderess!"

"Ah-h-h-h-h!"

With a shriek of wordless affright, Sybilla Silver leaped back, andstood cowering against the wall. For the dead had risen and stoodbefore her. The phantom slowly advanced. 

"Murderess, confess your guilt!"

"Mercy, mercy! mercy!" shrieked Sybilla Silver. "Spare me! Touch menot! Oh, God! what is this?"

"Confess!"

"I confess--I murdered you--I stabbed you! Sir Everard is innocent!Keep off! Mercy! mercy!"

With an unearthly scream, the horrified woman threw up both arms tokeep off the awful vision, and fell forward in strong convulsions. 

"Very well done, " said Mr. Bryson, entering briskly. "I don't think weneed any further proof of this lady's guilt. You have played ghost tosome purpose, my dear Lady Kingsland. Come in, gentlemen. We'll haveno trouble carrying off our prize. "

He paused, and stepped back with a blanched face, for Lady Kingslandlay writhing in the last agony. 

With a wild cry, Mildred threw herself on her knees by her mother'sside. 

"Mamma--dear mamma--don't look like that! Harriet is not dead. She ishere alive. It was that dreadful woman who tried to kill her. Everardis innocent, as we knew he was. He will be here with us in a day ortwo. "

The dying woman was conscious. Her eyes turned and fixed on Harriet. The white disguise had been thrown off. She came over to the bedside, pale and beautiful. 

"Mother, " she said, sweetly, "it is indeed I. Dear mother, bless meonce. "

"May God bless you and forgive me! Tell Everard--" She never finishedthe sentence. With the name of the son she idolized upon her lips, Lady Kingsland was dead. 

Harriet's presence of mind did not forsake her. Reverently she kissedthe dead face, closed the eyes, and rose. 

"The dead are free from suffering. Our first duty is to the living. Take me to my husband!"

The constable lifted Sybilla unceremoniously. 

The servants gathered outside the door gave way, and he placed her inthe carriage which had conveyed them to the house. 

Mr. Parmalee went with him, and Lady Kingsland and the lawyer tookpossession of the fly that stood waiting for Miss Silver. 

A minute later and they were flying, swift as lash and shout could urgethem, toward Worrel Jail. 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

"AFTER STORM, THE SUNSHINE. "

Earlier in the evening, when Harriet had told her story to Mr. Bryson, that gentleman had proceeded at once to the prison to inform theprisoner and the officials that the murdered lady was alive. 

There he found the warden of the prison and the clergyman, listeningwith very perplexed faces to a story the prisoner was narrating. 

"This is a most extraordinary revelation, " the clergyman was saying. "I really don't know what to think. "

"What is it?" asked Mr. Bryson. 

"A story which, wildly incredible as it seems, is yet true as HolyWrit, " answered the prisoner. "The real murderer is found. She hasbeen here, and admitted her guilt. "

"What!" exclaimed the lawyer. "Sybilla Silver?"

"Why!" cried the warden, in wonder, "you, too?"

"Exactly, " said Mr. Bryson, with a nod. "I know all about it. A mostimportant witness has turned up--no other than the missing man, Mr. Parmalee. He saw the deed done--saw Sybilla Silver, dressed in SirEverard's clothes, do it, and has come all the way from America totestify against her. Sir Everard, my dear friend, from the bottom ofmy soul I congratulate you on your most blessed escape!"

"Thank you!" he said. "If my life is spared, it is for some good end, no doubt. Thank God! A felon's death would have been very bitter, andfor my mother's sake I rejoice. "

"Not for your own?"

"I have lost all that made life sweet. My wife is in heaven. For meearth holds nothing but penitence and remorse. "

"I am not so sure about that. I have better news for you even than thenews I have told. My dear friend, can you bear a great shock--a shockof joy?"

He sprung up in bed, electrified. 

"Speak!" he gasped. "Oh, for God's sake----"

"Your wife is alive!"

There was a simultaneous cry. 

Mr. Bryson hurried on rapidly:

"Sybilla Silver stabbed her, and threw her over upon the shore. Mr. Parmalee picked her up--not dead, but badly wounded--took her on boarda vessel--took her finally to America. Sybilla Silver deceived yourpoor wife as she deceived us all. Lady Kingsland thought it was you, Sir Everard. But she is alive and well, and in Worrel at this verymoment. Our first business is to cage our bird before she flies. Canyou aid us any, Sir Everard? Where are we most likely to find her?"

"At the Court, " the baronet answered. "She left here to go there--tokill my mother with her horrible news, if she could. "

"We will leave you now, " Mr. Bryson said, rising. "Come, gentlemen;Sir Everard wants to be alone. I am off to secure my prisoner. "

It was on his way back to his own house that Mr. Bryson lighted on hisghostly plan for frightening Sybilla. How well it succeeded you know. 

She was still insensible when they reached the prison, and was handedover to the proper authorities. Harriet turned her imploring facetoward the lawyer. 

"Let me go to my husband! Oh, dear Mr. Bryson, let me go at once!"

They led her to the door. The jailer admitted her and closed it again. She was in her husband's prison-cell. Her arms were around his neck, her tears, her kisses raining on his face. 

"Oh, my darling, my darling! my life, my love, my husband!"

"Harriet!"

With a great cry he rose and held her to his heart. 

"My wife, my wife!"

And then, weak with long illness and repeated shocks--this last, greatest shock of all--he sat down, faint unto death. 

"Oh, my love, my wife! to think that I should hold you once more in myarms, look once more into your living face! My wife, my wife! Howcruel, how merciless I have been to you! May God forgive me! I willforgive myself--never!"

"Not one word! Between us there can be no such thing as forgiveness. We could neither of us have acted other than as we did. My oath boundme--your honor was at stake. We have both suffered--Heaven only knowshow deeply. But it is past now. Nothing in this lower world shallever come between us again, my beloved!"

"Not even death, " he said, folding her close to his heart. 

One month after and Sir Everard Kingsland, his wife, and sister quittedEngland for the Continent, not to make the grand tour and return, butto reside for years. England was too full of painful memories; underthe sunlit skies of beautiful Italy they were going to forget. 

Sybilla Silver was dead. All her plans had failed--her oath ofvengeance was broken. Sir Everard and his bride were triumphant. Shehad failed--miserably failed; she thought of it until she wentmad--stark, staring mad. Her piercing shrieks rang through the stonyprison all day and all night long, until one night, in a paroxysm offrenzy, she had dashed her head against the wall. They found her, inthe morning, dead. 

 * * * * *

Out into the lazy June sunshine the steamer glided. With his handsomewife on his arm, the young baronet stood looking his last at his nativeland, his face infinitely happy. 

"For years, " he said, with a smile--"for life, perhaps, Harriet. Ifeel as if I never wished to return. "

"But we shall, " she said. "England is home. A few happy years in fairforeign lands, and then, Everard, back to the old land. But first, Iconfess, I should like again to see America, and Uncle Denover, and"--with a little laugh--"George Washington Parmalee. "

For Mr. Parmalee had gone back to Dobbsville, at peace with all theworld, Sir Everard Kingsland included. 

"You're a brick, baronet, " his parting speech had been, as he wrungthat young man's hand; "you air, I swan! And your wife's another!Long may you wave!"

Sir Everard laughed aloud now at the recollection. 

"Money can never repay our obligation to that worthy artist. May hisshadow never be less! We shall go over to Dobbsville and see him, andhave our pictures taken, next year. Look, Harriet! how the chalkycliffs are melting into the blue above! One parting peep at England, and so a long good-by to the old land!" he said, taking off his hat, and standing, radiant and happy, with the June sunlight on his handsomehead.