THE MILL MYSTERY

BY

ANNA KATHARINE GREEN

AUTHOR OF "THE LEAVENWORTH CASE, " "A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE, " "HANDAND RING, " ETC. ETC. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I-------THE ALARM

II------A FEARFUL QUESTION

III-----ADA

IV------THE POLLARDS

V-------DOUBTS AND QUERIES

VI------MRS. POLLARD

VII-----ADVANCES

VIII----A FLOWER FROM THE POLLARD CONSERVATORY

IX------AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY

X-------RHODA COLWELL

XI------UNDER THE MILL FLOOR

XII-----DWIGHT POLLARD

XIII----GUY POLLARD

XIV-----CORRESPONDENCE

XV------A GOSSIP

XVI-----THE GREEN ENVELOPE

XVII----DAVID BARROWS

XVIII---A LAST REQUEST

XIX-----A FATAL DELAY

XX------THE OLD MILL

XXI-----THE VAT

XXII----THE CYPHER

XXIII---TOO LATE

XXIV----CONFRONTED

XXV-----THE FINAL BLOW

XXVI----A FELINE TOUCH

XXVII---REPARATION

XXVIII--TWO OR ONE

THE MILL MYSTERY

 * * * * *

I. 

THE ALARM. 

 Life, struck sharp on death, Makes awful lightning. --MRS. BROWNING. 

I had just come in from the street. I had a letter in my hand. Itwas for my fellow-lodger, a young girl who taught in the HighSchool, and whom I had persuaded to share my room because of herpretty face and quiet ways. She was not at home, and I flung theletter down on the table, where it fell, address downwards. Ithought no more of it; my mind was too full, my heart too heavy withmy own trouble. 

Going to the window, I leaned my cheek against the pane. Oh, thedeep sadness of a solitary woman's life! The sense of helplessnessthat comes upon her when every effort made, every possibilitysounded, she realizes that the world has no place for her, and thatshe must either stoop to ask the assistance of friends or starve! Ihave no words for the misery I felt, for I am a proud woman, and----But no lifting of the curtain that shrouds my past. It has fallenfor ever, and for you and me and the world I am simply ConstanceSterling, a young woman of twenty-five, without home, relatives, ormeans of support, having in her pocket seventy-five cents of change, and in her breast a heart like lead, so utterly had every hopevanished in the day's rush of disappointments. 

How long I stood with my face to the window I cannot say. With eyesdully fixed upon the blank walls of the cottages opposite, I stoodoblivious to all about me till the fading sunlight--or was it somestir in the room behind me?--recalled me to myself, and I turned tofind my pretty room-mate staring at me with a troubled look that fora moment made me forget my own sorrows and anxieties. 

"What is it?" I asked, going towards her with an irresistibleimpulse of sympathy. 

"I don't know, " she murmured; "a sudden pain here, " laying her handon her heart. 

I advanced still nearer, but her face, which had been quite pale, turned suddenly rosy; and, with a more natural expression, she tookme by the hand, and said:

"But you look more than ill, you look unhappy. Would you mindtelling me what worries you?"

The gentle tone, the earnest glance of modest yet sincere interest, went to my heart. Clutching her hand convulsively, I burst intotears. 

"It is nothing, " said I; "only my last resource has failed, and Idon't know where to get a meal for to-morrow. Not that this is anything in itself, " I hastened to add, my natural pride reassertingitself; "but the future! the future!--what am I to do with myfuture?"

She did not answer at first. A gleam--I can scarcely call it aglow--passed over her face, and her eyes took a far-away look thatmade them very sweet. Then a little flush stole into her cheek, and, pressing my hand, she said:

"Will you trust it to me for a while?"

I must have looked my astonishment, for she hastened to add:

"Your future I have little concern for. With such capabilities asyours, you must find work. Why, look at your face!" and she drew meplayfully before the glass. "See the forehead, the mouth, and tellme you read failure there! But your present is what is doubtful, andthat I can certainly take care of. "

"But----" I protested, with a sensation of warmth in my cheeks. 

The loveliest smile stopped me before I could utter a word more. 

"As you would take care of mine, " she completed, "if our positionswere reversed. " Then, without waiting for a further demur on mypart, she kissed me, and as if the sweet embrace had made us sistersat once, drew me to a chair and sat down at my feet. "You know, " shenaively murmured, "I am almost rich; I have five hundred dollarslaid up in the bank, and----"

I put my hand over her lips; I could not help it. She was such afrail little thing, so white and so ethereal, and her poor fivehundred had been earned by such weary, weary work. 

"But that is nothing, nothing, " I said. "You have a future toprovide for, too, and you are not as strong as I am, if you havebeen more successful. "

She laughed, then blushed, then laughed again, and impulsivelycried:

"It is, however, more than I need to buy a wedding-dress with, don'tyou think?" And as I looked up surprised, she flashed out: "Oh, it'smy secret; but I am going to be married in a month, and--and then Iwon't need to count my pennies any more; and, so I say, if you willstay here with me without a care until that day comes, you will makeme very happy, and put me at the same time under a real obligation;for I shall want a great many things done, as you can readilyconceive. "

What did I say--what could I say, with her sweet blue eyes lookingso truthfully into mine, but--"Oh, you darling girl!" while my heartfilled with tears, which only escaped from overflowing my eyes, because I would not lessen her innocent joy by a hint of my ownsecret trouble. 

"And who is the happy man?" I asked, at last, rising to pull downthe curtain across a too inquisitive ray of afternoon sunshine. 

"Ah, the noblest, best man in town!" she breathed, with a burst ofgentle pride. "Mr. B----"

She went no further, or if she did, I did not hear her, for justthen a hubbub arose in the street, and lifting the window, I lookedout. 

"What is it?" she cried, coming hastily towards me. 

"I don't know, " I returned. "The people are all rushing in onedirection, but I cannot see what attracts them. "

"Come away then!" she murmured; and I saw her hand go to her heart, in the way it did when she first entered the room a half-hourbefore. But just then a sudden voice exclaimed below: "Theclergyman! It is the clergyman!" And giving a smothered shriek, shegrasped me by the arm, crying: "What do they say? '_Theclergyman_'? Do they say 'The clergyman'?"

"Yes, " I answered, turning upon her with alarm. But she was alreadyat the door. "Can it be?" I asked myself, as I hurriedly followed, "that it is Mr. Barrows she is going to marry?"

For in the small town of S---- Mr. Barrows was the only man whocould properly be meant by "The clergyman"; for though Mr. Kingston, of the Baptist Church, was a worthy man in his way, and theCongregational minister had an influence with his flock that was notto be despised, Mr. Barrows, alone of all his fraternity, had so wonupon the affections and confidence of the people as to merit theappellation of "The clergyman. "

"If I am right, " thought I, "God grant that no harm has come tohim!" and I dashed down the stairs just in time to see the frailform of my room-mate flying out of the front door. 

I overtook her at last; but where? Far out of town on that dark anddismal road, where the gaunt chimneys of the deserted mill rise froma growth of pine-trees. But I knew before I reached her what shewould find; knew that her short dream of love was over, and thatstretched amongst the weeds which choked the entrance to the oldmill lay the dead form of the revered young minister, who, by hisprecept and example, had won not only the heart of this youngmaiden, but that of the whole community in which he lived andlabored. 

II. 

A FEARFUL QUESTION. 

 Nay, yet there's more in this: I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words. --OTHELLO. 

My room-mate was, as I have intimated, exceedingly frail andunobtrusive in appearance; yet when we came upon this scene, thegroup of men about the inanimate form of her lover partedinvoluntarily as if a spirit had come upon them; though I do notthink one of them, until that moment, had any suspicion of therelations between her and their young pastor. Being close behindher, I pressed forward too, and so it happened that I stood by herside when her gaze first fell upon her dead lover. Never shall Iforget the cry she uttered, or the solemn silence that fell overall, as her hand, rigid and white as that of a ghost's, slowly roseand pointed with awful question at the pallid brow upturned beforeher. It seemed as if a spell had fallen, enchaining the roughestthere from answering, for the truth was terrible, and we knew it;else why those dripping locks and heavily soaked garments oozing, not with the limpid waters of the stream we could faintly heargurgling in the distance, but with some fearful substance that dyedthe forehead blue and left upon the grass a dark stain that floodsof rain would scarcely wash away?

"What is it? Oh, what does it mean?" she faintly gasped, shudderingbackward with wondering dread as one of those tiny streams ofstrange blue moisture found its way to her feet. 

Still that ominous silence. 

"Oh, I must know!" she whispered. "I was his betrothed"; and hereyes wandered for a moment with a wild appeal upon those about her. 

Whereupon a kindly voice spoke up. "He has been drowned, miss. Theblue----" and there he hesitated. 

"The blue is from the remains of some old dye that must have been inthe bottom of the vat out of which we drew him, " another voice wenton. 

"The vat!" she repeated. "The vat! Was he found----"

"In the vat? Yes, miss. " And there the silence fell again. 

It was no wonder. For a man like him, alert, busy, with no time norinclination for foolish explorations, to have been found drowned inthe disused vat of a half-tumbled-down old mill on a lonesome andneglected road meant----But what did it mean? What could it mean?The lowered eyes of those around seemed to decline to express even aconjecture. 

My poor friend, so delicate, so tender, reeled in my arms. "In thevat!" she reiterated again and again, as if her mind refused to takein a fact so astounding and unaccountable. 

"Yes, miss, and he might never have been discovered, " volunteered avoice at last, over my shoulder, "if a parcel of school-childrenhadn't strayed into the mill this afternoon. It is a dreadfullonesome spot, you see, and----"

"Hush!" I whispered; "hush!" and I pointed to her face, which atthese words had changed as if the breath of death had blown acrossit; and winding my arms still closer about her, I endeavored to leadher away. 

But I did not know my room-mate. Pushing me gently aside, she turnedto a stalwart man near by, whose face seemed to invite confidence, and said:

"Take me in and show me the vat. "

He looked at her amazed; so did we. 

"I must see it, " she said, simply; and she herself took the firststep towards the mill. 

There was no alternative but to follow. This we did in terror andpity, for the look with which she led the way was not the look ofany common determination, and the power which seemed to force herfeeble body on upon its fearful errand was of that strained andunnatural order which might at any moment desert her, and lay her aweak and helpless burden at our feet. 

"It must be dark by this time down there, " objected the man she hadappealed to, as he stepped doubtfully forward. 

But she did not seem to heed. Her eyes were fixed upon the ruinedwalls before her, rising drear and blank against the pale-greenevening sky. 

"He could have had no errand here, " I heard her murmur. "How then bedrowned here?--how? how?"

Alas! that was the mystery, dear heart, with which every mind wasbusy!

The door of the mill had fallen down and rotted away years before, so we had no difficulty in entering. But upon crossing the thresholdand making for the steps that led below, we found that the growingtwilight was any thing but favorable to a speedy or even safeadvance. For the flooring was badly broken in places, and the stairsdown which we had to go were not only uneven, but strangely ricketyand tottering. 

But the sprite that led us paused for nothing, and long before I hadpassed the first step she had reached the bottom one, and wasgroping her way towards the single gleam of light that infuseditself through the otherwise pitchy darkness. 

"Be careful, miss; you may fall into the vat yourself!" exclaimedmore than one voice behind her. 

But she hurried on, her slight form showing like a spectre againstthe dim gleam towards which she bent her way, till suddenly shepaused and we saw her standing with clasped hands, and bent head, looking down into what? We could readily conjecture. 

"She will throw herself in, " whispered a voice; but as, profoundlystartled, I was about to hasten forward, she hurriedly turned andcame towards us. 

"I have seen it, " she quietly said, and glided by us, and up thestairs, and out of the mill to where that still form lay in itsghostly quietude upon the sodden grass. 

For a moment she merely looked at it, then she knelt, and, obliviousto the eyes bent pityingly upon her, kissed the brow and then thecheeks, saying something which I could not hear, but which lent alook of strange peace to her features, that were almost as pallidand set now as his. Then she arose, and holding out her hand to me, was turning away, when a word uttered by some one, I could not tellwhom, stopped her, and froze her, as it were, to the spot. 

That word was _suicide!_

I think I see her yet, the pale-green twilight on her forehead, herlips parted, and her eyes fixed in an incredulous stare. 

"Do you mean, " she cried, "that _he_ deserves any such name asthat? That his death here was not one of chance or accident, mysterious, if you will, but still one that leaves no stigma on hisname as a man and a clergyman?"

"Indeed, miss, " came in reply, "we would not like to say. "

"Then, _I_ say, that unless Mr. Barrows was insane, he neverpremeditated a crime of this nature. He was too much of a Christian. And if that does not strike you as good reasoning, he was too--happy. "

The last word was uttered so low that if it had not been for thefaint flush that flitted into her cheek, it would scarcely have beenunderstood. As it was, the furtive looks of the men about showedthat they comprehended all that she would say; and, satisfied withthe impression made, she laid her hand on my arm, and for the secondtime turned towards home. 

III. 

ADA. 

 For, in my sense, 't is happiness to die. --OTHELLO. 

There was death in her face; I saw it the moment we reached therefuge of our room. But I was scarcely prepared for the words whichshe said to me. 

"Mr. Barrows and I will be buried in one grave. The waters whichdrowned him have gone over my head also. But before the moment comeswhich proves my words true, there is one thing I wish to impressupon you, and that is: That no matter what people may say, or whatconjectures they may indulge in, Mr. Barrows never came to his endby any premeditation of his own. And that you may believe me, anduphold his cause in the face of whatever may arise, I will tell yousomething of his life and mine. Will you listen?"

Would I listen? I could not speak, but I drew up the lounge, andsitting down by her side, pressed my cheek close to hers. She smiledfaintly, all unhappiness gone from her look, and in sweet, softtones, began:

"We are both orphans. As far as I know, neither of us have anynearer relatives than distant cousins; a similarity of conditionthat has acted as a bond between us since we first knew and lovedeach other. When I came to S---- he was just settled here, a youngman full of zeal and courage. Whatever the experience of his collegedays had been--and he has often told me that at that time ambitionwas the mainspring of his existence, --the respect and appreciationwhich he found here, and the field which daily opened before him forwork, had wakened a spirit of earnest trust that erelong developedthat latent sweetness in his disposition which more than his mentalqualities, perhaps, won him universal confidence and love. 

"You have heard him preach, and you know he was not lacking ingenius; but you have not heard him speak, eye to eye and hand tohand. It was there his power came in, and there, too, perhaps, hisgreatest temptation. For he was one for women to love, and it is notalways easy to modify a naturally magnetic look and tone because thehand that touches yours is shy and white, and the glance whichsteals up to meet your own has within it the hint of unconsciousworship. Yet what he could do he did; for, unknown, perhaps, to anyone here, he was engaged to be married, as so many young ministersare, to a girl he had met while at college. 

"I do not mean to go into too many particulars, Constance. He didnot love this girl, but he meant to be true to her. He was evencontented with the prospect of marrying her, till----Oh, Constance, I almost forget that he is gone, and that my own life is at an end, when I think of that day, six months ago--the day when we first met, and, without knowing it, first loved. And then the weeks whichfollowed when each look was an event, and a passing word the makingor the marring of a day. I did not know what it all meant; but herealized only too soon the precipice upon which we stood, and Ibegan to see him less, and find him more reserved when, by anychance, we were thrown together. His cheek grew paler, too, and hishealth wavered. A struggle was going on in his breast--a struggle ofwhose depth and force I had little conception then, for I dared notbelieve he loved me, though I knew by this time he was bound toanother who would never be a suitable companion for him. 

"At last he became so ill, he was obliged to quit his work, and fora month I did not see him, though only a short square separated us. He was slowly yielding to an insidious disease, some said; and I hadto bear the pain of this uncertainty, as well as the secret agony ofmy own crushed and broken heart. 

"But one morning--shall I ever forget it?--the door opened, and he, _he_ came in where I was, and without saying a word, knelt downby my side, and drew my head forward and laid it on his breast. Ithought at first it was a farewell, and trembled with a secretanguish that was yet strangely blissful, for did not the passionateconstraint of his arms mean love? But when, after a moment thatseemed a lifetime, I drew back and looked into his face, I saw itwas not a farewell, but a greeting, he had brought me, and that wehad not only got our pastor back to life, but that this pastor wasa lover as well, who would marry the woman he loved. 

"And I was right. In ten minutes I knew, that a sudden freak on thepart of the girl he was engaged to had released him, without faultof his own, and that with this release new life had entered hisveins, for the conflict was over and love and duty were now inharmony. 

"Constance, I would not have you think he was an absolutely perfectman. He was too sensitively organized for that. A touch, a look thatwas not in harmony with his thoughts, would make him turn pale attimes, and I have seen him put to such suffering by petty physicalcauses, that I have sometimes wondered where his great soul got itsstrength to carry him through the exigencies of his somewhat tryingcalling. But whatever his weaknesses--and they were very few, --hewas conscientious in the extreme, and suffered agony where other menwould be affected but slightly. You can imagine his joy, then, overthis unexpected end to his long pain; and remembering that it isonly a month previous to the day set apart by us for our marriage, ask yourself whether he would be likely to seek any means of death, let alone such a horrible and lonesome one as that which has robbedus of him to-day?"

"No!" I burst out, for she waited for my reply. "A thousand times, no, no, no!"

"He has not been so well lately, and I have not seen as much of himas usual; but that is because he had some literary work he wished tofinish before the wedding-day. Ah, it will never be finished now!and our wedding-day is to-day! and the bride is almost ready. But!"she suddenly exclaimed, "I must not go yet--not till you have saidagain that he was no suicide. Tell me, " she vehemently continued--"tell me from your soul that you believe he is not answerable forhis death!"

"I do!" I rejoined, alarmed and touched at once by the fire in hercheek and eye. 

"And that, " she went, "you will hold to this opinion in the face ofall opposition! That, whatever attack men may make upon his memory, you will uphold his honor and declare his innocence! Say you will bemy deputy in this, and I will love you even in my cold grave, andbless you as perhaps only those who see the face of the Father canbless!"

"Ada!" I murmured, "Ada!"

"You will do this, will you not?" she persisted. "I can die knowingI can trust you as I would myself. "

I took her cold hand in mine and promised, though I felt how feeblewould be any power of mine to stop the tide of public opinion ifonce it set in any definite direction. 

"He had no enemies, " she whispered; "but I would sooner believe hehad, than that he sought this fearful spot of his own accord. "

And seemingly satisfied to have dropped this seed in my breast, shetremblingly arose, and going for her writing-desk, brought it backand laid it on the lounge by her side. "Go for Mrs. Gannon, " shesaid. 

Mrs. Gannon was our neighbor in the next room, a widow who earnedher livelihood by nursing the sick; and I was only too glad to haveher with me at this time, for my poor Ada's face was growing moreand more deathly, and I began to fear she had but prophesied thetruth when she said this was her wedding-day. 

I was detained only a few minutes, but when I came back with Mrs. Gannon, I found my room-mate writing. 

"Come!" said she, in a voice so calm, my companion started andhastily looked at her face for confirmation of the fears I hadexpressed; "I want you both to witness my signature. "

With one last effort of strength she wrote her name, and then handedthe pen to Mrs. Gannon, who took it without a word. 

"It is my will, " she faintly smiled, watching me as I added my nameat the bottom. "We have had to do without lawyers, but I don't thinkthere will be any one to dispute my last wishes. " And taking thepaper in her hand, she glanced hastily at it, then folded it, andhanded it back to me with a look that made my heart leap withuncontrollable emotion. "I can trust you, " she said, and fell softlyback upon the pillow. 

"You had better go for Dr. Farnham, " whispered Mrs. Gannon in myear, with an ominous shake of her head. 

And though I felt it to be futile, I hastened to comply. 

But Dr. Farnham was out, attending to a very urgent case, I wastold; and so, to my growing astonishment and dismay, were Dr. Spaulding and Dr. Perry. I was therefore obliged to come back alone, which I did with what speed I could; for I begrudged every momentspent away from the side of one I had so lately learned to love, andmust so soon lose. 

Mrs. Gannon met me at the door, and with a strange look, drew me inand pointed towards the bed. There lay Ada, white as the drivensnow, with closed eyes, whose faintly trembling lids alone betokenedthat she was not yet fled to the land of quiet shadows. At her sidewas a picture of the man she loved, and on her breast lay a bunch ofwithered roses I could easily believe had been his last gift. It wasa vision of perfect peace, and I could not but contrast it with whatmy imagination told me must have been the frenzied anguish of thatother death. 

My approach, though light, disturbed her. Opening her eyes, she gaveme one long, long look. Then, as if satisfied, she softly closedthem again, breathed a little sigh, and in another moment was nomore. 

IV. 

THE POLLARDS. 

 There's something in his soul, O'er which his melancholy sits on brood. --HAMLET. 

Fearful as the experiences of this day had been, they were not yetat an end for me. Indeed, the most remarkable were to come. As I satin this room of death--it was not far from midnight--I suddenlyheard voices at the door, and Mrs. Gannon came in with Dr. Farnham. 

"It is very extraordinary, " I heard him mutter as he crossed thethreshold. "One dying and another dead, and both struck down by thesame cause. "

I could not imagine what he mean, so I looked at him with someamazement. But he did not seem to heed me. Going straight to thebed, he gazed silently at Ada's pure features, with what I could notbut consider a troubled glance. Then turning quickly to Mrs. Gannon, he said, in his somewhat brusque way:

"All is over here; you can therefore leave. I have a patient whodemands your instant care. "

"But----" she began. 

"I have come on purpose for you, " he put in, authoritatively. "It isan urgent case; do not keep me waiting. "

"But, sir, " she persisted, "it is impossible. I am expected early inthe morning at Scott's Corners, and was just going to bed when youcame in, in order to get a little sleep before taking the train. "

"Dr. Perry's case?"

"Yes. "

He frowned, and I am not sure but what he uttered a mild oath. Atall events, he seemed very much put out. 

I immediately drew near. 

"Oh, sir, " I cried, "if you would have confidence in me. I am notunused to the work, and----"

His stare frightened me, it was so searching and so keen. 

"Who are you?" he asked. 

I told him, and Mrs. Gannon put in a word for me. I was reliable, she said, and if too much experience was not wanted, would do betterthan such and such a one--naming certain persons, probablyneighbors. 

But the doctor's steady look told me he relied more on his ownjudgment than on anything she or I could say. 

"Can you hold your tongue?" he asked. 

I started. Who would not have done so?

"I see that you can, " he muttered, and glanced down at my dress. "When can you be ready?" he inquired. "You may be wanted for days, and it may be only for hours. "

"Will ten minutes be soon enough?" I asked. 

A smile difficult to fathom crossed his firm lip. 

"I will give you fifteen, " he said, and turned towards the door. Buton the threshold he paused and looked back. "You have not asked whoor what your patient is, " he grimly suggested. 

"No, " I answered shortly. 

"Well, " said he, "it is Mrs. Pollard, and she is going to die. "

Mrs. Pollard! Mrs. Gannon and I involuntarily turned and looked ateach other. 

"Mrs. Pollard!" repeated the good nurse, wonderingly. "I did notknow she was sick"

"She wasn't this noon. It is a sudden attack. Apoplexy we call it. She fell at the news of Mr. Barrows' death. "

And with this parting shot, he went out and closed the door behindhim. 

I sank, just a little bit weakened, on the lounge, then rose withrenewed vigor. "The work has fallen into the right hands, " thoughtI. "Ada would wish me to leave her for such a task as this. "

And yet I was troubled. For though this sudden prostration of Mrs. Pollard, on the hearing of her young pastor's sorrowful death, seemed to betoken a nature of more than ordinary sensibility, I hadalways heard that she was a hard woman, with an eye of steel and aheart that could only be reached through selfish interests. But thenshe was the magnate of the place, the beginning and end of thearistocracy of S----; and when is not such a one open to calumny? Iwas determined to reserve my judgment. 

In the fifteen minutes allotted me, I was ready. Suitablearrangements had already been made for the removal of my poor Ada'sbody to the house that held her lover. For the pathos of thesituation had touched all hearts, and her wish to be laid in thesame grave with him met with no opposition. I could therefore leavewith a clear conscience; Mrs. Gannon promising to do all that wasnecessary, even if she were obliged to take a later train than shehad expected to. 

Dr. Farnham was in the parlor waiting for me, and uttered a grunt ofsatisfaction as he saw me enter, fully equipped. 

"Come; this is business, " he said, and led the way at once to hiscarriage. 

We did not speak for the first block. He seemed meditating, and Iwas summoning up courage for the ordeal before me. For, now that wewere started, I began to feel a certain inward trembling not to beentirely accounted for by the fact that I was going into a strangehouse to nurse a woman of whom report did not speak any too kindly. Nor did the lateness of the hour, and the desolate aspect of theunlighted streets, tend greatly to reassure me. 

Indeed, something of the weird and uncanny seemed to mingle with thewhole situation, and I found myself dreading our approach to thehouse, which from its old-time air and secluded position had alwaysworn for me an aspect of gloomy reserve, that made it even in thedaylight, a spot of somewhat fearful interest. 

Dr. Farnham, who may have suspected my agitation, though he gave notoken of doing so, suddenly spoke up. 

"It is only right to tell you, " he said, "that I should never haveaccepted the service of an inexperienced girl like you, if any thingwas necessary but watchfulness and discretion. Mrs. Pollard liesunconscious, and all you will have to do is to sit at her side andwait for the first dawning of returning reason. It may come at anymoment, and it may never come at all. She is a very sick woman. "

"I understand, " I murmured, plucking up heart at what did not seemso very difficult a task. 

"Her sons will be within call; so will I. By daybreak we hope tohave her daughter from Newport with her. You do not know Mrs. Harrington?"

I shook my head. Who was I, that I should know these grand folks?And yet----But I promised I would say nothing about days now socompletely obliterated. 

"She will not be much of an assistance, " he muttered. "But it isright she should come--quite right. "

I remembered that I had heard that Mrs. Pollard's daughter was abeauty, and that she had made a fine match; which, said of Mrs. Pollard's daughter, must have meant a great deal. I, however, saidnothing, only listened in a vague hope of hearing more, for mycuriosity was aroused in a strange way about these people, andnothing which the good doctor could have said about them would havecome amiss at this time. 

But our drive had been too rapid, and we were too near the house forhim to think of any thing but turning into the gateway with thenecessary caution. For the night was unusually dark, and it wasdifficult to tell just where the gate-posts were. We, however, entered without accident, and in another moment a gleam of lightgreeted us from the distant porch. 

"They are expecting us, " he said, and touched up his horse. We flewup the gravelled road, and before I could still the sudden heart-beat that attacked me at sight of the grim row of cedars whichsurrounded the house, we were hurrying up between the two huge lionsrampant that flanked the steps, to where a servant stood holdingopen the door. A sense of gloom and chill at once overwhelmed me. From the interior, which I faintly saw stretching before me, therebreathed even in that first moment of hurried entrance a cold andhaughty grandeur that, however rich and awe-inspiring, was any thingbut attractive to a nature like mine. 

Drawing back, I let Dr. Farnham take the lead, which he did in hisown brusque way. And then I saw what the dim light had not revealedbefore, a young man's form standing by the newel-post of the widestaircase that rose at our left. He at once came forward, and as thelight from the lamp above us fell fully upon him, I saw his face, and started. 

Why? I could not tell. Not because his handsome features struck mepleasantly, for they did not. There was something in theirexpression which I did not like, and yet as I looked at them asudden sensation swept over me that made my apprehensions of amoment back seem like child's play, and I became conscious that if asudden call of life or death were behind me urging me on the instantto quit the house, I could not do it while that face was before meto be fathomed, and, if possible, understood. 

"Ah, I see you have brought the nurse, " were the words with which hegreeted Dr. Farnham. And the voice was as thrilling in its tone asthe face was in its expression. "But, " he suddenly exclaimed, as hiseyes met mine, "this is not Mrs. Gannon. " And he hurriedly drew thedoctor down the hall. "Why have you brought this young girl?" heasked, in tones which, however lowered, I could easily distinguish. "Didn't you know there were reasons why we especially wanted anelderly person?"

"No, " I heard the doctor say, and then, his back being towards me, Ilost the rest of his speech till the words, "She is no gossip, " cameto salute me and make me ask myself if there was a secret skeletonin this house, that they feared so much the eyes of a stranger. 

"But, " the young man went hurriedly on, "she is not at all the kindof person to have over my mother. How could we----" and there hisvoice fell so as to become unintelligible. 

But the doctor's sudden exclamation helped me out. 

"What!" he wonderingly cried, "do you intend to sit up too?"

"I or my brother, " was the calm response, "Would you expect us toleave her alone with a stranger?"

The doctor made no answer, and the young man, taking a stepsidewise, threw me a glance full of anxiety and trouble. 

"I don't like it, " he murmured; "but there must be a woman of somekind in the room, and a stranger----"

He did not finish his words, but it seemed as if he were going tosay: "And a stranger may, after all, be preferable to a neighbor. "But I cannot be sure of this, for he was not a man easy to sound. But what I do know is that he stepped forward, to me with an easygrace, and giving me a welcome as courteous as if I had been the oneof all others he desired to see, led me up the stairs to a roomwhich he announced to be mine, saying, as he left me at the door:

"Come out in five minutes, and my brother will introduce you to yourduties. "

So far I had seen no woman in the house, and I was beginning towonder if Mrs. Pollard had preferred to surround herself with males, when the door was suddenly opened and a rosy-cheeked girl steppedin. 

"Ah, excuse me, " she said, with a stare; "I thought it was the nurseas was here. "

"And it is the nurse, " I returned, smiling in spite of myself at herlook of indignant surprise. "Do you want any thing of me?" Ihastened to ask, for her eyes were like saucers and her head wastossing airily. 

"No, " she said, almost with spite. "I came to see if you wanted anything?"

I shook my head with what good nature I could, for I did not wish tomake an enemy in this house, even of a chambermaid. 

"And you are really the nurse?" she asked, coming nearer and lookingat me in the full glare of the gas. 

"Yes, " I assured her, "really and truly the nurse. "

"Well, I don't understand it!" she cried. "I was always Mrs. Pollard's favorite maid, and I was with her when she was took, andwould be with her now, but they won't let me set a foot inside thedoor. And when I asked why they keep me out, who was alwaysattentive and good to her, they say I am too young. And here you beyounger than I, and a stranger too. I don't like it, " she cried, tossing her head again and again. "I haven't deserved it, and Ithink it is mighty mean. "

I saw the girl was really hurt, so I hastened to explain that I wasnot the nurse they expected, and was succeeding, I think, inmollifying her, when a step was heard in the hall, and she gave afrightened start, and hurried towards the door. 

"So you are sure you don't want anything?" she cried, and was out ofmy sight before I could answer. 

There was nothing to detain me, and I hastened to follow. As Icrossed the sill I almost started too, at sight of the tall, slim, truly sinister figure that awaited me, leaning against the oppositewall. He was younger than his brother, and had similar features, butthere was no charm here to make you forget that the eye was darklyglittering, and the lip formidable in its subtlety and power. Headvanced with much of the easy nonchalance that had so characterizedthe other. 

"Miss Sterling, I believe, " said he; and with no further word, turned and led me down the hall to the sick-room. I noticed eventhen that he paused and listened before he pushed open the door, andthat with our first step inside he cast a look of inquiry at the bedthat had something beside a son's loving anxiety in it. And I hatedthe man as I would a serpent, though he bowed as he set me a chair, and was careful to move a light he thought shone a little toodirectly in my eyes. 

The other brother was not present, and I could give my undividedattention to my charge. I found her what report had proclaimed herto be, a handsome woman of the sternly imposing type. Even with herage against her and the shadow of death lying on her brow and cheek, there was something strangely attractive in the features and thestately contour of her form. But it was attraction that was confinedto the eye, and could by no means allure the heart, for the sameseal of mysterious reserve was upon her that characterized her sons, and in her, as in the younger one of these, it inspired a distrustwhich I could imagine no smile as dissipating. She lay in a state ofcoma, and her heavy breathing was the only sound that broke thesilence of the great room. "God help me!" thought I; but had no wishto leave. Instead of that, I felt a fearful pleasure in the prospectbefore me--such effect had a single look had upon me from eyes Itrembled to meet again or read. 

I do not know how long I sat there gazing in the one direction forthat faint sign of life for which the doctor had bid me watch. Thathe who inspired me with dread was behind me, I knew; but I would notturn my head towards him. I was determined to resist the power ofthis man, even if I must succumb a trifle to that of the other. 

I was, therefore, surprised when a hand was thrust over my shoulder, and a fan dropped into my lap. 

"It is warm here, " was the comment which accompanied the action. 

I thanked him, but felt that his sole object had been to cover hischange of position. For, when he sat down again, it was where hecould see my face. I therefore felt justified in plying the fan hehad offered me, in such a way as to shut off his somewhat basiliskgaze. And so a dreary hour went by. 

It was now well on towards morning, and I was beginning to sufferfrom the languor natural after so many harrowing excitements, whenthe door opened behind me, and the electric thrill shooting throughall my members, testified as to whose step it was that entered. Atthe same moment the young man at my side arose, and with what Ifelt to be a last sharp look in my direction, hastened to where hisbrother stood, and entered into a whispered conversation with him. Then I heard the door close again, and almost at the same instantMr. Pollard the elder advanced, and without seeking an excuse forhis action, sat down close by my side. The fan at once dropped; Ihad no wish to avoid this man's scrutiny. 

And yet when with a secret bracing of my nerves I looked up and methis eyes fixed with that baffling expression upon mine, I own thatI felt an inward alarm, as if something vaguely dangerous had reareditself in my path, which by its very charm instinctively bade mebeware. I, however, subdued my apprehensions, thinking, with acertain haughty pride which I fear will never be eliminated from mynature, of the dangers I had already met with and overcome in mybrief but troubled life; and meeting his look with a smile which Iknew to contain a spice of audacity, I calmly waited for the words Ifelt to be hovering upon his lips. They were scarcely the ones Iexpected. 

"Miss Sterling, " said he, "you have seen Anice, my mother's waiting-maid?"

I bowed. I was too much disconcerted to speak. 

"And she has told you her story of my mother's illness?" he went on, pitilessly holding me with his glance. "You need not answer, " heagain proceeded, as I opened my lips. "I know Anice; she has not thegift of keeping her thoughts to herself. "

"An unfortunate thing in this house, " I inwardly commented, and madea determination on the spot that whatever emotions I mightexperience from the mysteries surrounding me, this master of reserveshould find there was one who could keep her thoughts to herself, even, perhaps, to his own secret disappointment and chagrin. 

"She told you my mother was stricken at the sudden news of Mr. Barrows' death?"

"That was told me, " I answered; for this was a direct question, put, too, with an effort I could not help but feel, notwithstanding theevident wish on his part to preserve an appearance of calmness. 

"Then some explanation is needed, " he remarked, his eyes flashingfrom his mother's face to mine with equal force and intentness. "Mymother"--his words were low, but it was impossible not to hearthem--"has not been well since my father died, two months ago. It neededbut the slightest shock to produce the result you unhappily seebefore you. That shock this very girl supplied by the inconsideraterelation of Mr. Barrows' fearful fate. We have taken a prejudiceagainst the girl, in consequence. Do you blame us? This is ourmother. "

What could I feel or say but No? What could any one, under thecircumstances? Why then did a sudden vision of Ada's face, as shegave me that last look, rise up before me, bidding me remember thecause to which I was pledged, and not put too much faith in this manand his plausible explanations. 

"I only hope death will not follow the frightful occurrence, " heconcluded; and do what he would, his features became drawn, and hisface white, as his looks wandered back to his mother. 

A sudden impulse seized me. 

"Another death, you mean, " said I; "one already has marked theevent, though it happened only a few short hours ago. "

His eyes flashed to mine, and a very vivid and real horror blanchedhis already pallid cheek till it looked blue in the dim light. 

"What do you mean?" he gasped; and I saw the doctor had refrainedfrom telling him of Ada's pitiful doom. 

"I mean, " said I, with a secret compunction I strove in vain tosubdue, "that Mr. Barrows' betrothed could not survive his terriblefate--that she died a few hours since, and will be buried in thesame grave as her lover. "

"His betrothed?" Young Mr. Pollard had risen to his feet, and wasactually staggering under the shock of his emotions. "I did not knowhe had any betrothed. I thought she had jilted him----"

"It is another woman, " I broke in, jealous for my poor dead Ada'sfame. "The woman he was formerly engaged to never loved him; butthis one----" I could not finish the sentence. My own agitation wasbeginning to master me. 

He looked at me, horrified, and I could have sworn the hair rose onhis forehead. 

"What was her name?" he asked. "Is it--is it any one I know?" Then, as if suddenly conscious that he was betraying too keen an emotionfor the occasion, pitiful as it was, he forced his lips into asteadier curve, and quietly said: "After what has happened here, Iam naturally overcome by a circumstance so coincident with our owntrouble. "

"Naturally, " I assented with a bow, and again felt that secretdistrust warring with a new feeling that was not unlike compassion. 

"Her name is Ada Reynolds, " I continued, remembering his lastquestion. "She lived----"

"I know, " he interrupted; and without another word walked away, andfor a long time stood silent at the other end of the room. Then hecame back and sat down, and when I summoned up courage to glance athis face, I saw that a change had passed over it, that in allprobability was a change for life. 

And my heart sank--sank till I almost envied that unconscious formbefore which we sat, and from which alone now came the one soundwhich disturbed the ghostly silence of that dread chamber. 

V. 

DOUBTS AND QUERIES. 

 And that well might Advise him to a caution, to hold what distance His wisdom can provide. --MACBETH. 

At daybreak the doctor came in. Taking advantage of the occasion, Islipped away for a few minutes to my own room, anxious for anychange that would relieve me from the gloom and oppression caused bythis prolonged and silent _tete-a-tete_ with a being that atonce so interested and repelled me. Observing that my windows lookedtowards the east, I hastened to throw wide the blinds and lean outinto the open air. A burst of rosy sunlight greeted me. "Ah!"thought I, "if I have been indulging in visions, this will dispelthem"; and I quaffed deeply and long of the fresh and glowingatmosphere before allowing my thoughts to return for an instant tothe strange and harrowing experiences I had just been through. Asense of rising courage and renewed power rewarded me; and blessingthe Providence that had granted us a morning of sunshine after anight of so much horror, I sat down and drew from my breast thelittle folded paper which represented my poor Ada's will. Opening itwith all the reverent love which I felt for her memory, I set myselfto decipher the few trembling lines which she had written, in thehope they would steady my thoughts and suggest, if not reveal, theway I should take in the more than difficult path I saw stretchingbefore me. 

My agitation may be conceived when I read the following:

"It is my last wish that all my personal effects, together with thesum of five hundred dollars, now credited to my name in the FirstNational Bank of S----, should be given to my friend, ConstanceSterling, who I hope will not forget the promise I exacted fromher. "

Five hundred dollars! and yesterday I had nothing. Ah, yes, I had_a friend!_

The thoughts awakened by this touching memorial from the innocentdead distracted me for a few moments from further consideration ofpresent difficulties, but soon the very nature of the bequestrecalled them to my mind, by that allusion to a promise which morethan any thing else lay at the bottom of the dilemma in which Ifound myself. For, humiliating as it is to confess, the persistencywith which certain impressions remained in my mind, in spite of theglowing daylight that now surrounded me, warned me that it would befor my peace to leave this house before my presentiments becamefearful realities; while on the other hand my promise to Ada seemedto constrain me to remain in it till I had at least solved some ofthose mysteries of emotion which connected one and all of thisfamily so intimately with the cause to which I had pledged myself. 

"If the general verdict in regard to Mr. Barrows' death should beone of suicide, " thought I, "how could I reconcile myself to thefact that I fled at the first approaching intimation that all wasnot as simple in his relations as was supposed, and that somewhere, somehow, in the breast of certain parishioners of his, a secret layhidden, which, if known, would explain the act which otherwise mustimprint an ineffaceable stain upon his memory?"

My heart and brain were still busy with this question when the soundof Mr. Pollard's footsteps passing my door recalled me to a sense ofmy present duty. Rising, I hurried across the hall to the sick-chamber, and was just upon the point of entering, when the doctorappeared before me, and seeing me, motioned me back, saying:

"Mrs. Harrington has just arrived. As she will doubtless wish to seeher mother at once, you had better wait a few moments till the firstagitation is over. "

Glad of any respite, and particularly glad to escape an introductionto Mrs. Harrington at this time, I slipped hastily away, but had notsucceeded in reaching my room before the two brothers and theirsister appeared at the top of the stairs. I had thus a fullopportunity of observing them, and being naturally quick to gatherimpressions, took in with a glance the one member of the Pollardfamily who was likely to have no mystery about her. 

I found her pretty; prettier, perhaps, than any woman it had everbeen my lot to meet before, but with a doll's prettiness thatbespoke but little dignity or force of mind. Dressed with faultlesstaste and with an attention to detail that at a moment like thepresent struck one with a sense of painful incongruity, sheadvanced, a breathing image of fashion and perhaps folly; herrustling robes, and fresh, if troubled face, offering a moststriking contrast to the gloom and reserve of the two sombre figuresthat walked at her side. 

Knowing as by instinct that nothing but humiliation would follow anyobtrusion of myself upon this petted darling of fortune, I withdrewas much as possible into the shadow, receiving for my reward a shortlook from both the brothers; the one politely deprecating in itssaturnine courtesy, the other full of a bitter demand for what I inmy selfish egotism was fain to consider sympathy. The last look didnot tend to calm my already disturbed thoughts, and, anxious toefface its impression, I impulsively descended the stairs andstrolled out on the lawn, asking myself what was meant by thedifference in manner which I had discerned in these two brotherstowards their sister. For while the whole bearing of the younger hadexpressed interest in this pretty, careless butterfly of a womanthus brought suddenly face to face with a grave trouble, the elderhad only averted looks to offer, and an arm that seemed to shrink ather touch as if the weight of her light hand on his was almost morethan he could bear. Could it be that affection and generosity wereon the side of the younger after all, and that in this respect, atleast, he was the truer man and more considerate brother?

I could find no more satisfactory answer for this question than forthe many others that had suggested themselves since I had been inthis house; and being determined not to allow myself to fall into areverie which at this moment might be dangerous, I gave upconsideration of all kinds, and yielded myself wholly to thepleasure of my ramble. And it was a pleasure! For however solemn andaustere might be the interior of the Pollard mansion, without hereon the lawn all was cheeriness, bloom, and verdure; the grim row ofcedars encircling the house seeming to act as a barrier beyond whichits gloom and secrecy could not pass. At all events such was theimpression given to my excited fancy at the time, and, filled withthe sense of freedom which this momentary escape from the house andits influences had caused, I hastened to enjoy the beauties of walkand _parterre_, stopping only when some fairer blossom thanordinary lured me from my path to inspect its loveliness or inhaleits perfume. 

The grounds were not large, though, situated as they were in themidst of a thickly populated district, they appeared so. It did not, therefore, take me long to exhaust their attractions, and I wasabout to return upon my course, when I espied a little summer-housebefore me, thickly shrouded in vines. Thinking what a charmingretreat it offered, I stepped forward to observe it more closely, when to my great surprise I saw it was already occupied, and by aperson whose attitude and appearance were such as to at once arousemy strongest curiosity. This person was a boy, slight of build, andfantastic in his dress, with a face like sculptured marble, and aneye which, if a little contracted, had a strange glitter in it thatmade you look and look again. He was kneeling on the floor of thesummer-house, and his face, seen by me in profile, was turned withthe fixedness of an extreme absorption towards a small opening inthe vines, through which he was intently peering. What he saw orwished to see I could not imagine, for nothing but the blank end ofthe house lay before him, and there could be very little which wasinteresting in that, for not one of its windows were open, unlessyou except the solitary one in my room. His expression, however, showed that he was engaged in watching something, and by thecorrugation in his white brow and the peculiar compression of hisfresh red lip, that something showed itself to be of greatimportance to him; a fact striking enough in itself if you considerthe earliness of the hour and the apparent immaturity of his age, which did not appear to be more than fourteen. 

Resolved to solve this simple mystery, I gave an admonitory cough, and stepped into the summer-house. He at once started to his feet, and faced me with a look I am pondering upon yet, there was so muchin it that was wrathful, curious, dismayed, and defiant. The nextmoment a veil seemed to fall over his vision, the rich red liprelaxed from its expressive curve, and from being one of the moststartling visions I ever saw, he became--what? It would be hard totell, only not a fully responsible being, I am sure, however near hehad just strayed to the border-land of judgment and good sense. Relieved, I scarcely knew why, and remembering almost at the sameinstant some passing gossip I had once heard about the prettyimbecile boy that ran the streets of S----, I gave him a cheerfulsmile, and was about to bestow some encouraging word upon him, whenhe suddenly broke into a laugh, and looking at me with a meaninglessstare, asked:

"Who are you?"

I was willing enough to answer, so I returned: "I am ConstanceSterling"; and almost immediately added: "And who are you?"

"I am the cat that mews in the well. " Then suddenly, "Do you livehere?"

"No, " I replied, "I am only staying here. Mrs. Pollard is sick--"

"Do they like you?"

The interruption was quick, like all his speech, and caused me acurious sensation. But I conquered it with a laugh, and cheerilyreplied:

"As I only came last night, it would be hard to say"--and was goingto add more, when the curious being broke out:

"She only came last night!" and, repeating the phrase again andagain, suddenly darted from my side on to the lawn, where he stoodfor an instant, murmuring and laughing to himself before speedingaway through the shrubbery that led to the gate. 

This incident, trivial as it seemed, made a vivid impression uponme, and it was with a mind really calmed from its past agitationthat I re-entered the house and took up my watch in the sick-room. Ifound every thing as I had left it an hour or so before, with theexception of my companion; the younger Mr. Pollard having taken theplace of his brother. Mrs. Harrington was nowhere to be seen, but asbreakfast had been announced I did not wonder at this, nor at theabsence of the elder son, who was doubtless engaged in doing thehonors of the house. 

My own call to breakfast came sooner than I anticipated; soonenough, indeed, for me to expect to find Mr. Pollard and his sisterstill at the table. It therefore took some courage for me torespond to the summons, especially as I had to go alone, mycompanion, of course, refusing to leave his mother. But a glance inthe hall-mirror, as I went by, encouraged me, for it was no weakwoman's face I encountered, and if Mrs. Harrington was as beautifulas she was haughty, and as haughty as she was beautiful, ConstanceSterling at least asked no favors and showed no embarrassment. Indeed, I had never felt more myself than when I lifted the_portiere_ from before the dining-room door and stepped inunder the gaze of these two contradictory beings, either of whichexerted an influence calculated to overawe a person in my position. The past----But what have I promised myself and you? Not the past, then, but my present will and determination made the ordeal easy. 

Mr. Pollard, who is certainly a man to attract any woman's eye, rosegravely as I approached, and presented me with what struck me as asomewhat emphasized respect, to his sister. Her greeting was nothingmore nor less than what I expected--that is, indifferently civil, --though I thought I detected a little glimmer of curiosity in thecorner of her eye, as if some words had passed in regard to me thatmade her anxious to know what sort of a woman I was. 

But my faculty for observation was very wide-awake that morning, andI may have imagined this, especially as she did not look at me againtill she had finished her breakfast and rose to quit the room. Then, indeed, she threw me a hurried glance, half searching, half doubtfulin its character, as if she hesitated whether she ought to leave usalone together. Instantly a wild thrill passed through me, and Icame perilously near blushing. But the momentary emotion, if emotionit could be called, was soon lost in the deeper feeling which ensuedwhen Mrs. Harrington, pausing at the door, observed, with a forcedlightness:

"By-the-way, where is Mr. Barrows? I thought he was always on handin time of trouble. "

I looked at her; somehow, I dared not look at her brother; and, while making to myself such trivial observations as, "She has notbeen told the truth, " and, "They took good care she should overhearno gossip at the station, " I was inwardly agitating myself with thenew thought, "Can _she_ have had any thing to do with Mr. Barrows? Can she be the woman he was engaged to before he fell inlove with Ada?"

The expression of her face, turned though

It was full upon us, told nothing, and my attention, though not myglances, passed to Mr. Pollard, who, motionless in his place, hesitated what reply to give to this simple question. 

"Guy has not told you, then, " said he, "what caused the shock thathas prostrated our mother?"

"No, " she returned, coming quickly back. 

"It was the news of Mr. Barrows' death, Agnes; the servants say so, and the servants ought to know. "

"Mr. Barrows' death! Is Mr. Barrows dead, then?" she asked, in atone of simple wonder, which convinced me that my surmise of amoment ago was without any foundation. "I did not know he was sick, "she went on. "Was his death sudden, that it should affect motherso?"

A short nod was all her brother seemed to be able to give to thisquestion. At sight of it I felt the cold chills run through myveins, and wished that fate had not obliged me to be present at thisconversation. 

"How did Mr. Barrows die?" queried Mrs. Harrington, after waiting inmanifest surprise and impatience for her brother to speak. 

"He was drowned. "

"Drowned?"

"Yes. "

"When?"

"Yesterday. "

"Where?"

This time the answer was not forthcoming. Was it because he knew theplace too well? I dared not lift my eyes to see. 

"Was it in the mill-stream?" she asked. 

This time he uttered a hollow "No. " Then, as if he felt himself tooweak to submit to this cross-questioning, he pushed back his chair, and, hurriedly rising, said:

"It is a very shocking affair, Agnes. Mr. Barrows was found in a vatin the cellar of the old mill. He drowned _himself. _ No oneknows his motive. "

"Drowned _himself?_" Did she speak or I? I saw her lips move, and I heard the words uttered as I thought in her voice; but it wasto me he directed his look, and to me he seemed to reply:

"Yes; how else account for the circumstances? Is he a man to haveenemies?--or is that a place a man would be likely to seek forpleasure?"

"But--" the trembling little woman at my side began. 

"I say it is a suicide, " he broke in, imperiously, giving his sisterone look, and then settling his eyes back again upon my face. "Noother explanation fits the case, and no other explanation will everbe given. Why he should have committed such a deed, " he went on, ina changed voice, and after a momentary pause, "it would beimpossible for me, and perhaps for any other man, to say; but thathe did do it is evident, and that is all I mean to assert. The restI leave for wiser heads than mine. " And turning from me with anindescribable look that to my reason, if not to my head, seemed tobelie his words, he offered his arm to his bewildered sister andquietly led her towards the door. 

The breath of relief I gave as the _portiere_ closed behindthem was, however, premature, for scarcely had he seen her on herway upstairs than he came back, and taking his stand directly beforeme, said:

"You and I do not agree on this question; I see it in your eyes. Nowwhat explanation do you give of Mr. Barrows' death?"

The suddenness of the attack brought the blood to my cheeks, whilethe necessity of answering drove it as quickly away. He saw I wasagitated, and a slight tremble--it could not be called a smile--disturbed the set contour of his lips. The sight of it gave mecourage. I let my own curl as I replied:

"You do me too much honor to ask my opinion. But since you wish toknow what I think, I consider it only justice to say that it wouldbe easier for an unprejudiced mind to believe that Mr. Barrows had asecret enemy, or that his death was owing to some peculiar andperhaps unexplainable accident, than that he should seek it himself, having, as he did, every reason for living. "

"He was very happy, then?" murmured my companion, looking for aninstant away, as if he could not bear the intensity of my gaze. 

"He loved deeply a noble woman; they were to have been married in amonth; does that look like happiness?" I asked. 

The roving eye came back, fixed itself upon me, and turneddangerously dark and deep. 

"It _looks_ like it, " he emphasized, and a strange smile passedover his lips, the utter melancholy of which was all that was plainto me. 

"And it _was_!" I persisted, determined not to yield an iota ofmy convictions to the persuasiveness of this man. "The woman whoknew him best declared it to be so as she was dying; and I am forcedto trust in her judgment, whatever the opinion of others may be. "

"But happy men----" he began. 

"Sometimes meet with accidents, " I completed. 

"And your credulity is sufficient to allow you to consider Mr. Barrows' death as the result of accident?"

Lightly as the question was put, I felt that nothing but a deepanxiety had prompted it, else why that earnest gaze from which myown could not falter, or that white line showing about the lip heessayed in vain to steady? Recoiling inwardly, though I scarcelyknew why, I forced myself to answer with the calmness of aninquisitor:

"My credulity is not sufficient for me to commit myself to thatbelief. If investigation should show that Mr. Barrows had anenemy----"

"Mr. Barrows had no enemy!" flashed from Mr. Pollard's lips. "Imean, " he explained, with instant composure, "that he was not a manto awaken jealousy or antagonism; that, according to all accounts, he had the blessing, and not the cursing, of each man in thecommunity. "

"Yes, " I essayed. 

"He never came to his death through the instrumentality of anotherperson, " broke in Mr. Pollard, with a stern insistence. "He fellinto the vat intentionally or unintentionally, but no man put himthere. Do you believe me, Miss Sterling?"

Did I believe him? Was he upon trial, then, and was he willing Ishould see he understood it? No, no, that could not be; yet whyasseverate so emphatically a fact of which no man could be sureunless he had been present at the scene of death, or at least knownmore of the circumstances attending it than was compatible with theperfect ignorance which all men professed to have of them. Did henot see that such words were calculated to awaken suspicion, andthat it would be harder, after such a question, to believe he spokefrom simple conviction, than from a desire to lead captive the willof a woman whose intuitions, his troubled conscience told him, wereto be feared? Rising, as an intimation that the conversation wasfast becoming insupportable to me, I confronted him with my proudestlook. 

"You must excuse me, " said I, "if I do not linger to discuss amatter whose consequences just now are more important to us than thefact itself. While your mother lies insensible I cannot restcomfortable away from her side. You will therefore allow me toreturn to her. "

"In a moment, " he replied. "There are one or two questions it wouldplease me to have you answer first. " And his manner took on a charmthat robbed his words of all peremptoriness, and made it difficult, if not impossible, for me to move. "You have spoken of MissReynolds, " he resumed; "have told me that she declared upon herdying bed that the relations between Mr. Barrows and herself werevery happy. Were you with her then? Did you know her well?"

"She was my room-mate, " I returned. 

It was a blow; I saw it, though not a muscle of his face quivered. He had not expected to hear that I was upon terms of intimacy withher. 

"I loved her, " I went on, with a sense of cruel pleasure that musthave sprung from the inward necessity I felt to struggle with thisstrong nature. "The proof that she loved me lies in the fact thatshe has made me heir to all her little savings. We were friends, " Iadded, seeing he was not yet under sufficient control to speak. 

"I see, " he now said, moving involuntarily between me and the door. "And by friends you mean confidantes, I presume?"

"Perhaps, " I answered, coolly, dropping my eyes. 

His voice took a deeper tone; it was steel meeting steel, he saw. 

"And she told you Mr. Barrows was happy?"

"That has been already discussed, " said I. 

"Miss Sterling"--I think I never heard such music in a human voice--"you think me inquisitive, presuming, ungentlemanly, persistent, perhaps. But I have a great wish to know the truth about thismatter, if only to secure myself from forming false impressions andwrongfully influencing others by them. Bear with me, then, strangersthough we are, and if you feel you can trust me"--here he forced meto look at him, --"let me hear, I pray, what reasons you have fordeclaring so emphatically that Mr. Barrows did not commit suicide?"

"My reasons, Mr. Pollard? Have I not already given them to you? Isit necessary for me to repeat them?"

"No, " he earnestly rejoined, charming me, whether I would or not, bythe subtle homage he infused into his look, "if you will assure methat you have no others--that the ones you have given form the solefoundation for your conclusions. Will you?" he entreated; and whilehis eyes demanded the truth, his lip took a curve which it wouldhave been better for me not to have seen if I wished to preserveunmoved my position as grand inquisitor. 

I was compelled, or so it seemed to me, to answer without reserve. Itherefore returned a quiet affirmative, adding only in qualificationof the avowal, "What other reasons were necessary?"

"None, none, " was the quick reply, "for _you_ to believe as youdo. A woman but proves her claim to our respect when she attachessuch significance to the master-passion as to make it the argumentof a perfect happiness. "

I do not think he spoke in sarcasm, though to most minds it mightappear so. I think he spoke in relief, a joyous relief, that wasless acceptable to me at that moment than the sarcasm would havebeen. I therefore did not blush, but rather grew pale, as with a bowI acknowledged his words, and took my first step towards thedoorway. 

"I have wounded you, " he murmured, softly, following me. 

"You do not know me well enough, " I answered, turning with a senseof victory in the midst of my partial defeat. 

"It is a misfortune that can be remedied, " he smiled. 

"Your brother waits for us, " I suggested, and, lifting the_portiere_ out of his hand, I passed through, steady as a dart, but quaking, oh, how fearfully quaking within! for this interviewhad not only confirmed me in my belief that something dark andunknown connected the life of this household with that which hadsuddenly gone out in the vat at the old mill, but deepened ratherthan effaced the fatal charm which, contrary to every instinct of mynature, held me in a bondage that more than all things else mustmake any investigation into this mystery a danger and a pain fromwhich any woman might well recoil, even though she bore in her heartmemories of a past like mine. 

VI. 

MRS. POLLARD. 

 My mind she has mated, and amazed my sight; I think but dare not speak. --MACBETH. 

That day was a marked one in my life. It was not only the longest Ihave ever known, but it was by far the dreariest, and, if I may usethe word in this connection, the most unearthly. Indeed, I cannotthink of it to this day without a shudder; its effect being much thesame upon my memory as that of a vigil in some underground tomb, where each moment was emphasized with horror lest the dead lyingbefore me might stir beneath their cerements and wake. The continualpresence of one or both of the brothers at my side did not tend toalleviate the dread which the silence, the constant suspense, thecold gloom of the ever dimly-lighted chamber were calculated toarouse; for the atmosphere of unreality and gloom was upon themtoo, and, saving the quick, short sigh that escaped from their lipsnow and then, neither of them spoke nor relaxed for an instant fromthat strain of painful attention which had for its focus theirmother's stony face. Mrs. Harrington, who, in her youthful freshnessand dimpled beauty, might have relieved the universal sombreness ofthe scene, was not in the room all day; but whether this was onaccount of her inability to confront sickness and trouble, orwhether it was the result of the wishes of her brothers, I havenever been able to decide; probably the latter, for, though she wasa woman of frivolous mind, she had a due sense of the proprieties, and was never known to violate them except under the stress ofanother will more powerful than her own. 

At last, as the day waned, and what light there was graduallyvanished from the shadowy chamber, Guy made a movement ofdiscouragement, and, rising from his place, approached his brother, dropped a word in his ear, and quietly left the room. The relief Ifelt was instantaneous. It was like having one coil of an oppressivenightmare released from my breast. Dwight, on the contrary, who hadsat like a statue ever since the room began to darken, showed noevidence of being influenced by this change, and, convinced that anymovement towards a more cheerful order of things must come from me, I rose, and, without consulting his wishes, dropped the curtains andlighted the lamp. The instant I had done so I saw why he was sosilent and immovable. Overcome by fatigue, and possibly by a longstrain of suppressed emotion, he had fallen asleep, and, ignorant ofthe fact that Guy had left the room, slumbered as peacefully as ifno break had occurred in the mysterious watch they had hitherto souninterruptedly maintained over their mother and me. 

The peacefulness of his sleeping face made a deep impression uponme. Though I knew that with his waking the old look would come back, it was an indescribable pleasure to me to see him, if but for aninstant, free from that shadowy something which dropped a vail ofmistrust between us. It seemed to show me that evil was not innatein this man, and explained, if it did not justify, the weaknesswhich had made me more lenient to what was doubtful in hisappearance and character than I had been to that of his equallycourteous but less attractive brother. 

The glances I allowed myself to cast in his direction were fleetingenough, however. Even if womanly delicacy had not forbidden me tolook too often and too long that way, the sense of the unfairadvantage I was possibly taking of his weakness made the possibilityof encountering his waking eye a matter of some apprehension. I knewthat honor demanded I should rouse him, that he would not thank mefor letting him sleep after his brother had left the room; and yet, whether from too much heart--he was in such sore need of rest--orfrom too little conscience--I was in such sore need of knowledge--Ilet him slumber on, and never made so much as a move after my firststartled discovery of his condition. 

And so five minutes, ten minutes, went by, and, imperceptibly tomyself, the softening influence which his sleeping countenanceexerted upon me deepened and strengthened till I began to ask if Ihad not given too much scope to my, imagination since I had been inthis house, and foolishly attributed a meaning to expressions andevents that in my calmer moments would show themselves to possess nospecial significance. 

The probability was that I had, and once allowing myself to admitthis idea, it is astonishing how rapidly it gained possession of myjudgment, altering the whole tenor of my thoughts, and if notexactly transforming the situation into one of cheerfulness andease, at least robbing it of much of that sepulchral character whichhad hitherto made it so nearly unbearable to me. The surroundings, too, seemed to partake of the new spirit of life which had seizedme. The room looked less shadowy, and lost some of that element ofmystery which had made its dimly seen corners the possible abode ofsupernatural visitants. Even the clock ticked less lugubriously, andthat expressionless face on the pillow--

Great God! it is looking at me! With two wide open, stony eyes it isstaring into my very soul like a spirit from the tomb, awakeningthere a horror infinitely deeper than any I had felt before, thoughI knew it was but the signal of returning life to the sufferer, andthat I ought to rouse myself and welcome it with suitableministrations, instead of sitting there like a statue of fear inthe presence of an impending fate. But do what I would, say tomyself what I would, I could not stir. A nightmare of terror wasupon me, and not till I saw the stony lips move and the face take alook of life in the effort made to speak, did I burst the spell thatheld me and start to my feet. Even then I dared not look around norraise my voice to warn the sleeper behind me that the moment so longwaited for had come. A power behind myself seemed to hold me silent, waiting, watching for those words that struggled to life sopainfully before me. At last they came, filling the room with echoeshollow as they were awful!

"Dwight! Guy! If you do not want me to haunt you, swear you willnever divulge what took place between you and Mr. Barrows at themill. "

"_Mother_!" rang in horror through the room. And before I couldturn my head, Dwight Pollard leaped by me, and hiding the face ofthe dying woman on his breast, turned on me a gaze that was halfwild, half commanding, and said:

"Go for my brother! He is in the northwest room. Tell him our motherraves. " Then, as I took a hurried, though by no means steady, steptowards the door, he added: "I need not ask you to speak to no oneelse?"

"No, " my cold lips essayed to utter, but an unmeaning murmur wasall that left them. The reaction from hope and trust to a nowreally tangible fear had been too sudden and overwhelming. 

But by the time I had reached the room to which I had been directed, I had regained in a measure my self-control. Guy Pollard at leastshould not see that I could be affected by any thing which couldhappen in this house. Yet when, in answer to my summons, he joinedme in the hall, I found it difficult to preserve the air ofrespectful sympathy I had assumed, so searching was his look, and sodirect the question with which he met his brother's message. 

"My mother raves, you say; will you be kind enough to tell me whather words were?"

"Yes, " returned I, scorning to prevaricate in a struggle I at leastmeant should be an honest one. "She called upon her sons, and saidthat she would haunt them if ever they divulged what took placebetween them and Mr. Barrows at the mill. "

"Ah!" he coldly laughed; "she does indeed rave. " And while I admiredhis self-control, I could not prevent myself from experiencing anincreased dread of this nature that was so ready for all emergenciesand so panoplied against all shock. 

I might have felt a more vivid apprehension still, had I known whatwas passing in his mind as we traversed the hall back to the sick-chamber. But the instinct which had warned me of so much, did notwarn me of that, and it was with no other feeling than one ofsurprise that I noted the extreme deference with which he opened hismother's door for me, and waited even in that moment of naturalagitation and suspense for me to pass over the threshold before hepresumed to enter himself. 

Dwight Pollard, however, did not seem to be so blind, for a changepassed over his face as he saw us, and he half rose from thecrouching position he still held over his mother's form. He subsidedback, however, as I drew to one side and let Guy pass unheeded tothe bed, and it was in quite a natural tone he bade me seat myselfin the alcove towards which he pointed, till his mother's conditionrequired my services. 

That there was really nothing to be done for her, I saw myself inthe one glimpse I caught of her face as he started up. She was onthe verge of death, and her last moments were certainly due to herchildren. So I passed into the alcove, which was really a small roomopening out of the large one, and flinging myself on the lounge Isaw there, asked myself whether I ought to shut the door between us, or whether my devotion to Ada's cause bade me listen to whatevercame directly in my way to hear? The fact that I was in a measureprisoned there, there being no other outlet to the room than the oneby which I had entered, determined me to ignore for once the naturalinstincts of my ladyhood; and pale and trembling to a degree I wouldnot have wished seen by either of these two mysterious men, I sat ina dream of suspense, hearing and not hearing the low hum of theirvoices as they reasoned with or consoled the mother, now fastdrifting away into an endless night. 

Suddenly--shall I ever forget the thrill it gave me?--her voice roseagain in those tones whose force and commanding power I have foundit impossible to describe. 

"The oath! the oath! Dwight, Guy, by my dying head----"

"Yes, mother, " I heard one voice interpose; and by the solemn murmurthat followed, I gathered that Guy had thought it best to humor herwishes. 

The long-drawn sigh which issued from her lips testified to therelief he had given her, and the "Now Dwight!" which followed wasuttered in tones more gentle and assured. 

But to this appeal no solemn murmur ensued, for at that instant ascream arose from the bed, and to the sound of an opening door rangout the words: "Keep her away! What do you let her come in herefor, to confound me and make me curse the day she was born! Away! Isay, away!"

Horrified, and unable to restrain the impulse that moved me, Isprang to my feet and rushed upon the scene. The picture that met myeyes glares at me now from the black background of the past. On thebed, that roused figure, awful with the shadows of death, raised, inspite of the constraining hands of her two sons, into an attitudeexpressive of the most intense repulsion, terror, and dread; and atthe door, the fainting form of the pretty, dimpled, care-shunningdaughter, who, struck to the heart by this poisoned dart from thehand that should have been lifted in blessing, stood swaying indismay, her wide blue eyes fixed on the terrible face before her, and her hands outstretched and clutching in vague fear after somesupport that would sustain her, and prevent her falling crushed tothe floor. 

To bound to her side, and lift her gently out of her mother's sight, was the work of a moment. But in that moment my eyes had time to seesuch a flash of infinite longing take the place of the fiercepassions upon that mother's face, that my heart stood still, and Iscarcely knew whether to bear my burden from the room, or to rushwith it to that bedside and lay it, in all its childlike beauty, onthat maddened mother's dying breast. A low, deep groan from the beddecided me. With that look of love on her face, otherwise distortedby every evil passion, Mrs. Pollard had fallen back into the arms ofher two sons, and quietly breathed her last. 

VII. 

ADVANCES. 

 For they are actions that a man might play; But I have that within which passeth show. --HAMLET. 

"Miss Sterling?"

I was sitting by the side of Mrs. Harrington in her own room. By afeverish exertion of strength I had borne her thither from hermother's chamber, and was now watching the returning hues of lifecolor her pale cheek. At the sound of my name, uttered behind me, Iarose. I had expected a speedy visit from one of the brothers, but Ihad been in hopes that it would be Dwight, and not Guy, who wouldmake it. 

"I must speak to you at once; will you follow me?" asked thatgentleman, bowing respectfully as I turned. 

I glanced at Mrs. Harrington, but he impatiently shook his head. 

"Anice is at the door, " he remarked. "She is accustomed to Mrs. Harrington, and will see that she is properly looked after. " And, leading the way, he ushered me out, pausing only to cast one hurriedglance back at his sister, as if to assure himself she was not yetsufficiently recovered to note his action. 

In the hall he offered me his arm. 

"The gas has not yet been lighted, " he explained, "and I wish you togo with me to the parlor. "

This sounded formidable, but I did not hesitate. I felt able toconfront this man. 

"I am at your service, " I declared, with a comfortable sensationthat my tone conveyed something of the uncompromising spirit I felt. 

The room to which he conducted me was on the first floor, and wasdarkness itself when we entered. It was musty, too, and chill, aswith the memory of a past funeral and the premonition of a new one. 

Even the light which he soon made did not seem to be at home in thespot, but wavered and flickered with faint gasps, as if it longed toefface itself and leave the grand and solitary apartment to itswonted atmosphere of cold reserve. By its feeble flame I noted buttwo details: one was the portrait of Mrs. Pollard in her youth, andthe other was my own reflection in some distant mirror. The firstfilled me with strange thoughts, the face was so wickedly powerful, if I may so speak; handsome, but with that will beneath its beautywhich, when allied to selfishness, has produced the Lucretia Borgiasand Catherine de Medicis of the world. 

The reflection of which I speak, dimly seen as it was, had, on thecontrary, a calming effect upon my mind. Weary as I undoubtedly was, and pale if not haggard with the emotions I had experienced, therewas still something natural and alive in my image that recalledhappier scenes to my eyes, and gave me the necessary strength toconfront the possibilities of the present interview. . 

Mr. Pollard, who in his taciturn gloom seemed like the naturalgenius of the spot, appeared to be struck by this same sensationalso, for his eyes wandered more than once to the mirror, before hesummoned up courage, or, perhaps, I should say, before he took thedetermination to look me in the face and open the conversation. Whenhe did, it was curious to note the strife of expression between hiseye and lip: the one hard, cold, and unyielding; the otherdeprecating in its half-smile and falsely gentle, as if the mindthat controlled it was even then divided between its wish to subdueand the necessity it felt to win. 

"Miss Sterling, " so he began, "it would be only folly for me tospeak as if nothing had occurred but an ordinary and natural death. It would be doing your good sense and womanly judgment but littlehonor, and putting myself, or, rather, ourselves--for we childrenare but one in this matter--in a position which would make anyafter-explanations exceedingly difficult. For explanations can begiven, and in a word; for what has doubtless struck you as strangeand terrible in my mother's last hours, --explanations which I amsure you will be glad to accept, as it is not natural for one soblooming in her womanliness to wish to hamper her youth with darkthoughts, or to nurse suspicions contrary to her own candid andnoble nature. "

He paused, but meeting with no response beyond a rather cool bow, the strife between his eye and lip became more marked. He went on, however, as if perfectly satisfied, his voice retaining itsconfident tone, whatever the disturbance communicated to his inwardnature. 

"The explanation to which I allude is this, " said he. "My mother forthe past three months has been the victim of many unwholesomedelusions. The sickness of my father, which was somewhat prolonged, made great inroads upon her strength; and his death, followed by thenecessity of parting with Mrs. Harrington--whom you perhaps know wasfor family reasons married immediately upon my father's decease, --sowed the seed of a mental weakness which culminated on her deathbedinto a positive delirium. She had a notion, and has had it forweeks, unknown to every one but my brother and myself, that Mrs. Harrington had been the occasion of some great misfortune to us;whereas the innocent girl had done nothing but follow out hermother's wishes, both in her marriage and in her settlement in adistant town. But the love my mother had felt for her was alwaysthe ruling passion of her life, and when she came to find herselfrobbed of a presence that was actually necessary to her well-being, her mind, by some strange subtlety of disease I do not profess tounderstand, confounded the source of her grief with its cause, attributing to this well-beloved daughter's will the suffering, which only sprang out of the circumstances of the case. As to herwild remarks in regard to Mr. Barrows, " he added, with studiedindifference, "and the oath she wished us to take, that was but anoutgrowth of the shock she had received in hearing of theclergyman's death. For, of course, I need not assure you, MissSterling, that for all our readiness to take the oath she demanded, neither my brother nor myself ever were at the mill, or knew anymore of the manner or cause of Mr. Barrows' death than you do. "

This distinct denial, made in quiet but emphatic tones, caused me tolook up at him with what was perhaps something of an expressiveglance. For at its utterance the longing cry had risen in my heart, "Oh, that it were Dwight who had said that!" And the realizationwhich it immediately brought of the glad credence which it wouldhave received from me had it only fallen from _his_ lips causedan inward tremble of self-consciousness which doubtless communicateditself to my glance. For Guy Pollard, without waiting for any wordsI might have to say, leaned towards me with a gratified air, andwith what I would like to call a smile, exclaimed:

"You have been in the house scarce twenty-four hours, but I feel asif I could already give you the title of friend. Will you accept itfrom me, Miss Sterling, and with it my most cordial appreciation andesteem?"

"Ah, this is mere bait!" I thought, and was tempted to indignantlyrepel the hand he held out; but something restrained me which I amto proud to call fear, and which in reality I do not think was fear, so much as it was wonder and a desire to understand the full motiveof a condescension I could not but feel was unprecedented in thisarrogant nature. I therefore gave him my hand, but in a steady, mechanical way that I flattered myself committed me to nothing;though the slight but unmistakable pressure he returned seemed toshow that he took it for a sign of amity, if not of absolutesurrender. 

"You relieve me of a great weight, " he acknowledged. "Had you beenof the commonplace type of woman, you might have made it veryuncomfortable for us. " "And what have I said and done, " I couldnot help remarking, though neither so bitterly nor with so muchirony as I might have done had that desire of which I have spokenbeen less keen than it was, "to lead you to think I shall not yet doso?"

"Your glance is your surety, " was the response he made. "That andyour honest hand, which does not lightly fall in that of astranger. " And with a real smile now, though it was by no means thereassuring and perhaps attractive one he doubtless meant it to be, he fixed me with his subtle glance, in which I began to read ameaning, if not a purpose, that made the blood leap indignantly tomy heart, and caused me to feel as if I had somehow stumbled into asnare from which it would take more than ordinary skill and patienceto escape. 

A look down the shadowy room restored my equanimity, however. It wasall so unreal, so ghostly, I could not help acknowledging to myselfthat I was moving in a dream which exaggerated every impression Ireceived, even that which might be given by the bold gaze of anunscrupulous man. So I determined not to believe in it, or in anything else I should see that night, unless it were in the stern soulof the woman who had just died; a qualification which my mind couldnot help making to itself as my eyes fell again upon her portrait, with its cruel, unrelenting expression. 

"You do not feel at home!" exclaimed Guy, interpreting according tohis needs my silence and the look I had thrown about me. "I do notwonder, " he pursued. "Dreariness like this has little to do withyouth and beauty. But I hope"--here he took a step nearer, whilethat meaning look--oh, my God! was I deceiving myself?--deepened inhis eyes--"I hope the day will come when you will see the sunshinestream through the gloom of these dim recesses, and in the new cheerinfused into the life of this old mansion forget the scenes ofhorror that encompassed the beginning of our friendship. " And with abow that seemed to intimate that necessity, and not his wishes, forced him to terminate this interview, he was stepping back, whenthe door opened quickly behind him, and the face of Dwight Pollardshowed itself on the threshold. 

The look he cast first at his brother and then at me caused a freshtumult to take place in my breast. Was it displeasure he showed? Iwas pleased to think so. I could not be sure of his feeling, however, for almost on the instant his brow cleared, and advancingwith an excuse for his interruption, he spoke a few low words toGuy. The latter gravely bowed, and with just a slight glance in mydirection, immediately left the room. I was once more alone withDwight Pollard. 

He seemed to feel the situation as much as I did, for it was severalmoments before he spoke, and when he did, his voice had a subduedtremble in it which I had not noticed before. 

"Miss Sterling, " he remarked, "my brother has been talking to you, trying, I presume, to explain to you the distressing scene to whichyou have just been witness. "

I bowed, for I seemed to have no words to say, though he evidentlylonged to hear me speak. 

"My brother is not always considerate in his manner of address, " hewent on, after a moment's intent scrutiny of my face. "I hope he hasnot made you feel other than satisfied of our good-will towardsyou?"

"No, " I faintly smiled, wishing I knew what feeling prompted thissubtle attempt to learn the nature of the interview which had justpassed. "Mr. Guy Pollard has never been any thing but polite to me. "

He looked at me again as if he would read my very soul, but I gavehim no help to its understanding, and he presently dropped his eyes. 

"Did he tell you, " he at last resumed, with some effort, "that it isour wish for you to remain in this house till our mother is buried?"

"No, " I returned, "he said nothing about it. "

"But you will do so?" he queried, in that rich and deep tone whichthrilled so dangerously to my heart. 

"I--I must have time to think, " I faltered, taken by surprise, andnot seeing my way as clearly as I could wish. "It is my desire toattend the funeral of Mr. Barrows and Miss Reynolds, and--Mr. Pollard!" I suddenly exclaimed, taking perhaps the most courageousresolution of my life, "I must be honest with you. It is useless forme to deny that the manner and circumstances of your mother's deathhave made a great impression upon me; that I cannot, in spite of allexplanations, but connect some special significance to the oath youwere requested to take; and that, weakened as your mother may havebeen, something more terrible than the mere shock of hearing of herpastor's sudden decease must have occasioned emotions so intense asto end in death and delirium. If, therefore, you are willing toassure me, as your brother has done, that it was entirely a fancy ofhers that you ever held any communication with Mr. Barrows at themill, I will gladly promise to disabuse my mind of all unfavorableimpressions, and even promise to stay here, if such be your desire, till the days of your trouble are over, and the body of your motheris laid in her grave. "

"And has my brother given you such an assurance as you speak of?"

"He has, " I returned. 

"Then why do you ask one from me?"

Was it possible for me to tell him?

"If it was not enough coming from his lips, how could it be comingfrom mine?" he continued. 

Shame and confusion kept me silent. 

"Would it be?" he persisted, this time with feeling and somethinglike a hint of eagerness in his voice. 

I dared not say "Yes, " and yet I must have the assurance I demanded, if ever I was to know peace again. 

"You no not answer; but I think, I feel confident you would believemy word, Miss Sterling. "

"I have asked for it, " I returned. 

He turned frightfully pale; it seemed as if he would speak, but thewords did not come. I felt, my heart growing sick, and as for him, he started violently away from my side, and took a turn or two upand down the room. 

"I cannot deny what looks like an accusation, " he declared at last, coming and standing before me with a sombre but determined air. "Mypride alone is sufficient to deter me. Will you accept from me anything less. I am not such a man as my brother. "

"I will accept your assurance that as the true friend to AdaReynolds I may remain in this house without stain to her memory orlove. "

"Then you think--"

"No, " said I, with a burst I could not control, "I do not think; Ido not want to think; do not make me, I entreat. "

He smiled, a sad and fearful smile, and took another turn up anddown the seemingly darkening room. When he came back I was cold asmarble, and almost as insensible. 

"Miss Sterling, " were his words, "do you remember a conversation wehad this morning?"

I bowed, with a sudden rush of hope that almost melted me again. 

"In that conversation I made a solemn assertion; do you recollectwhat it was?"

"Yes, " I looked, if I did not audibly reply. 

"I make that assertion again--is it sufficient?" he asked. 

At that moment it seemed to me that it was. I looked and felt as ifa great weight had been lifted from my heart, and though he flusheddeeply, as any man of spirit, let alone one of such a proud andaristocratic nature as his, would be apt to under the circumstances, I saw that he experienced a relief also, and giving way to animpulse I do not yet know whether to regret or not, I held out myhand, saying calmly:

"I will remain, Mr. Pollard. "

VIII. 

A FLOWER FROM THE POLLARD CONSERVATORY. 

 You may wear your rue with a difference. --HAMLET. 

Mrs. Harrington did not immediately recover from the shock she hadreceived. I therefore found myself fully employed the next day. Towards evening, however, a respite came, and I took the opportunityfor a stroll up-street, as much for the sake of hearing the gossipof the town as to escape from the atmosphere of sorrow andperplexity by which I was surrounded. 

My walk down to the gate was full of a certain uneasy apprehension. I had made no secret of my intentions at the supper-table, and forthe reason that neither of the brothers had ventured upon any replyto my remark, I expected one, if not both, of them to join me on theway. But I reached the last turn of the path without meeting anyone, and I was congratulating myself upon the prospect of having anhour of perfect freedom, when I detected, leaning on the gate beforeme, the firm, well-knit figure of a man. 

As the two Pollards were more or less alike in form, I could notdistinguish at first glance which of the brothers it was. Itherefore faltered back a step, and was indeed debating whether Ishould not give up my project and return to the house, when I sawthe gentleman's head turn, and realized that it was too late toretreat. I therefore advanced with as much calmness as I couldassume, determined not to vary my conduct, no matter which of thebrothers it should turn out to be. But, to my great surprise, thegentleman before me gave me no opportunity to test my resolution. Nosooner did he perceive me than he made a hurried gesture that I didnot at that moment understand; and, just lifting his hat incourteous farewell, vanished from my sight in the thick bushes whichat that place encumbered the grounds. 

"It was Dwight; it was Guy, " I alternately explained to myself, andknew not whether it would give me most relief to find myselfshunned by the one or the other. My final conclusion, that I wishedto have nothing further to do with either of them, received, notwithstanding, a rude shock when I arrived at the gate-post. Forthere, on its broad top, lay a magnificent blossom, the choicestfruit of the hot-house, and it was to beg my acceptance of this thatthe gentleman had made the peculiar gesture I had noticed--an actwhich, if it came from Dwight, certainly possessed a significancewhich I was not yet ready to ignore; while, if it proceeded from hiscold and crafty brother--But I would not allow myself to dwell uponthat possibility. The flower must be mine, and if afterwards I foundthat it was to Guy I owed its possession, it would be time enoughthen for me to determine what to do. So I took the gorgeous blossomoff the post and was speeding away down the street, when I wassuddenly stopped by the thought that only Guy would have the egotismto bestow a gift upon me in this way; that Dwight, if he had wishedto present it at all, would have done so with his own hand, and notleft it lying on a gate-post with the assurance it would be gatheredup by the fortunate recipient of his favor. 

Disgusted with myself, and instantly alive to the possibleconsequences of my act, I opened my fingers with the laudableintention of dropping the flower to the ground, when I saw standingin the road directly in front of me the beautiful idiot boy whosepeculiarities of appearance and conduct had so attracted myattention in the summer-house the day before. He was looking at mewith a strange gaze of mingled curiosity and imbecile good-nature, and his hands, white as milk, trembled in the air before him, as ifhe could scarcely restrain himself from snatching out of my graspthe superb flower I seemed so willing to throw away. 

A happy impulse seized me. 

"Here, " said I, proffering him the blossom. "This will give you morepleasure than it will me. "

But, to my great astonishment, he turned on his heel with a loudlaugh, and then, shaking his head, and rolling it curiously fromside to side, exclaimed, with his usual repetition:

"No, no, it is a lover's gift, a lover's gift; you will wear it inyour hair. " And he danced about me with grotesque gayety for amoment, then flitted away to a position from which he could stillsee me without being within reach of my hand. 

Under these circumstances I was too proud to fling the flower away;so I dropped it into a basket I held, and walked swiftly down thestreet. The idiot boy followed me; now skipping a pace or two inadvance, and now falling back till I had passed far beyond him. Ashe flashed back and forth, I saw that his eyes were always on myface, and once, as I confronted him with mine, he broke out into aseries of chuckles, and cried: "Do they like you now? do they likeyou now?" and laughed and danced, and laughed again, till I began tofind the situation somewhat embarrassing, and was glad enough whenat the corner of a street he disappeared from my view, with thefinal cry of: "One day, two days; wait till you have been there ten;wait till you have been there twenty!"

Hot and trembling with apprehension lest his foolish speeches hadbeen heard by some passer-by, I hurried on my way to the house whereI lived. I reached it in a few minutes, and being so fortunate as tofind my landlady in, succeeded before another half-hour had passedin learning all that was generally known about the seriousoccurrences in which I was just then so profoundly interested. 

I heard first that the vat in the old mill had been examined for thepurpose of ascertaining how it came to be full enough of water todrown a man; and it was found that, owing to a heavy storm which hadlately devastated the country, a portion of the wall above the vathad been broken in by a falling tree, allowing the rain to enter infloods from a jutting portion of the roof. Next, that although aninquest had been held over Mr. Barrows' remains, and a verdict beengiven of accidental death, the common judgment of the communityascribed his end to suicide. This was mainly owing to the fact thatthe woman in whose house he had lived had testified to havingobserved a great change in his appearance during the last few weeks;a change which many were now ready to allow they had themselvesperceived; though, from the fact of its having escaped the attentionof Ada, I cannot but think they were greatly helped to thisconclusion by their own imagination. 

The last thing I made sure of was that the two deaths which hadfollowed his so tragically had awakened on all sides the deepestinterest and pity, but nothing more. That although the generalfeatures of Mrs. Pollard's end were well enough known, no whisper ofsuspicion had been breathed against her or hers, that showed in thefaintest way that any doubt mingled with the general feeling ofcommiseration. And yet it was too evident she was no favorite withthe world at large, and that the respect with which she wasuniversally mentioned was rather the result of the pride felt in hercommanding manners and position, than from any personal liking forthe woman herself. 

As for the sons, they were fine young men in their way, and had thesympathy of everybody in their bereavement; but gossip, if it busieditself with their names at all, was much more interested inwondering what disposition they would make of the property nowcoming to them, than in inquiring whether or not they could have hadany secret relations with the man now dead, which were calculated toexplain in any way his mysterious end. 

Finally I learned that Ada and Mr. Barrows were to be buried thenext day. 

Satisfied with the information obtained, I started immediately forthe Pollard mansion. It was my wish to re-enter it before dark. Butthe twilight fell fast, and by the time I reached the gate I couldbarely discern that a masculine figure was again leaning there, waiting, as it appeared, for my return. The discovery caused me asensation of relief. Now I should at least learn which of the twobrothers showed this interest in my movements, for this time thegentleman betrayed no disposition to leave at my approach; on thecontrary, he advanced, and in the mellow accents I had learned in soshort a time to listen for, observed:

"I knew you wished to go alone, Miss Sterling, or I should haveoffered you my protection in your dismal walk. I am glad to see youreturn before it is quite dark. "

"Thank you, " I responded, with almost a degree of joyousness in mytone, I was so glad to be rid of the perplexity that had weigheddown my spirits for the last half-hour. "It is not pleasant to walkthe streets at dusk alone, but necessity has accustomed me to it, and I scarcely think of its dangers now. "

"You utter that in a proud tone, " he declared, reaching out andtaking the basket that hung on my arm. 

"I have reason to, " I replied, glad it was so dark he could not seethe blush which his action had caused. "It was no slight strugglefor me to overcome certain prejudices in which I have been reared. That I have been able to do so gives me wholesome satisfaction. I amno longer ashamed to own that I stand by myself, and work for everybenefit I obtain. "

"Nor need you be, " he murmured. "In this age and in this country awoman like you forfeits nothing by maintaining her own independence. On the contrary, she gains something, and that is the respect ofevery true-hearted man that knows her. " And his step lagged more andmore in spite of my conscientious efforts to maintain the brisk pacein which I had indulged before I had encountered him at the gate. 

"This is a grand old place, " I remarked, vaguely anxious to changethe drift of the conversation. 

"Yes, " he answered, moodily; "but it is shadowed. " And with a suddenrelapse into his most sombre self, he walked at my side in silence, till the sight of the high porch showing itself through the treeswarned him that if he had any thing further to say to me, it must besaid soon. He therefore paused, forcing me by the action to pausetoo, and earnestly observed: "I know, however you may address me, Miss Sterling, you cherish a doubt of me in your heart. I cannotresent this, much as my natural pride might prompt me to do so. During the short time in which I have known you, you have won sodeeply upon my esteem, that the utmost which I feel able to ask ofyou under the circumstances is, that, in the two or three days youwill yet remain with us, you will allow yourself but one thoughtconcerning me, and that is, that I aspire to be an honest man, andto do not only what the world thinks right, but even what such aconscientious soul as yours must consider so. Are you willing toregard me in this light, and will my mere word be sufficient tocause you to do so?"

It was a searching question after his proffer, and my acceptance ofthe flower I held concealed, and I hesitated a moment beforereplying to it. I am so intensely proud; and then I could not butacknowledge to myself that, whatever my excuse, I was certainlyrunning a risk of no ordinary nature in listening to the addressesof a man who could inspire me, or ever had inspired me, with thefaintest element of distrust. 

He noted my silence and drew back, uttering a sigh that was halfimpatient and half sorrowful. I felt this sigh, nondescript as itwas, re-echo painfully in my heart, and hung my head in remorse; butnot before I had caught a glimpse of his face, and been struck byits expression of deep melancholy. 

"You have no favor to show me, then?" he asked. 

Instantly and without premeditation I seized upon the basket he heldin his hand, and impetuously opened the lid. 

"Have I not shown you one?" I inquired. 

A sound--it never came from him or from me--made us both start. Witha fierce expression he turned towards the bushes at our right, butnot before I had seen, by the look of astonishment he had cast uponthe flower, that, notwithstanding the coincidence of finding him atthe gate, he had had nothing to do with its culling or presentation. 

"Some one is presuming to play the spy upon us, " said he, anddrawing my hand through his arm, he led me swiftly towards theporch. "You need not tremble so, " he whispered, as we halted aninstant between the cedars before mounting the steep steps. "No onein this house wishes to annoy you--or if there should be any one whodoes, " he corrected in a quick tone, while he cast a glance of quicksuspicion at the basket in my hand, "that person and I will sooncome to an understanding. "

"I was only startled, " was my quick rejoinder, glad to explain mytremulousness in this way. "Let us go in, " I added, feeling that Imust escape to some place of solitude, if only to hide my shame andchagrin from every eye. 

He acquiesced in my wishes at once, and we were proceeding slowly upthe steps, when suddenly a shrill, strange laugh broke from amid thebushes, and the weird voice of the idiot boy, whom I thought hadbeen left behind me in the town, rose once more to my ear, utteringthose same words which had so annoyed me earlier in the evening. 

"Oh, do you think they like you now? Say, say, do you think theylike you now?" But the tone with which he addressed me this time hada ring of menace in it, and I was not surprised to see DwightPollard start, though I was somewhat affected by the deep agitationhe showed as I tried to explain:

"Oh, it is only the little idiot boy whom you must have seen runningabout the streets. He seems to have taken a fancy to me, for hefollowed me nearly all the while I was gone, with something of thesame senseless remarks as now. "

"The idiot boy!" repeated Mr. Pollard. "Well, we will leave theidiot boy outside. " And he held the door open till I had hurried in, when he vehemently closed it, looking at the same time as if he hadshut the door on a threatening evil, or, at the most, on a bitterand haunting memory. 

 That night I did an unworthy thing; I listened to conversationwhich was not intended for my ears. It happened in this wise: I hadbeen down-stairs on an errand for Mrs. Harrington, and was comingback through the dimly lighted hall, when I saw Dwight Pollard stepout of a room in front of me and accost a man that was locking andbolting the front door. 

"Simon, " I heard him say, "you remember that beautiful flower Inoticed yesterday in the conservatory?"

"Yes, sir, " the man replied, with some embarrassment in his voice. 

"Well, I want it picked to-morrow for my mother's funeral. You willbring it to my room. "

"Oh, sir, " I heard the man hurriedly interpose, "I'm sure I'm verysorry, sir; but it has already been picked, and there won't beanother out before next week. "

I knew I ought not to stay there and listen, especially as I couldeasily have gone on my way without attracting attention; but havingheard thus much, I found it impossible to go on till I had at leastlearned if Mr. Pollard had the motive I suspected in these inquiriesof his. His next words satisfied me on this point. 

"And who was the fortunate one to obtain this flower?" he asked, inan accent indifferent enough to deceive a merely casual listener. 

"Mr. Guy, sir. "

"Ah, so he noticed it too!" was the remark with which Mr. Pollarddropped the subject, and hurried away from the gardener's side. 

The next instant I perceived him pass into Guy's room, and I sawthat an explanation of some kind was about to take place between thebrothers. 

IX. 

AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY. 

 Hold, hold my heart! And you, my sinews, grow not instant old. But bear me stiffly up!

Whether intentionally or unintentionally, I was saved theembarrassment of meeting Guy Pollard at the breakfast-table the nextmorning. I was, therefore, left in ignorance as to the result of theconversation between the brothers, though from the softened mannerof Dwight, and the quiet assurance with which he surrounded me withthe delicate atmosphere of his homage, I could not but argue that hehad come out master of the situation. 

It was, therefore, with mingled feelings of pleasure andapprehension that I left the house at the hour appointed for thedouble funeral; feelings that would have been yet more alive had Irealized that I should not re-enter those gates again, or see theinterior of that fatal house, till I had passed through many bitterexperiences. 

The ceremonies, in spite of the latent suspicion of the communitythat Mr. Barrows' death had been one of his own seeking, were of themost touching and impressive description. I was overcome by them, and left the churchyard before the final prayer was said, feeling asif the life of the last three days had been a dream, and that herein the memory of my lovely Ada and her griefs lay my true existenceand the beginning and ending of my most sacred duty. 

Pursuant to this thought I did not turn immediately back to thegloomy mansion which claimed me for the present as its own, butwandered away in an opposite direction, soothing my conscience bythe thought that it was many hours yet before the services would beheld for Mrs. Pollard, and that neither the brothers nor Mrs. Harrington could have any use for me till that time. 

The road I had taken was a sequestered one, and strange as it mayseem to some, did not awaken special memories in my mind till Icame to a point where an opening in the trees gave to my view thevision of two tall chimneys; when like a flash it came across methat I was on the mill road, and within a few short rods of thescene of Mr. Barrows' death. 

The sensation that seized me at this discovery was of the strangestkind. I felt that I had been led there; and without a thought ofwhat I was doing, pressed on with ever-increasing rapidity till Icame to the open doorway with its dismantled entrance. 

To pass over the now much-trodden grass and take my stand by thedismal walls was the work of an instant; but when I had done thisand experienced in a rush the loneliness and ghostly influence ofthe place, I was fain to turn back and leave it to the dream of itsown fearful memories. But the sight of a small piece of paper pinnedor pasted on the board that had been nailed in futile precautionacross the open doorway deterred me. It was doubtless nothing moreimportant than a notice from the town authorities, or possibly fromthe proprietors of the place, but my curiosity was excited, and Idesired to see it. So I hastened over to where it was, and withlittle apprehension of the shock that was destined to overwhelm me, read these words:

"Those who say Mr. Barrows committed suicide lie. He was murdered, and by parties whose position places them above suspicion, as theirwealth and seeming prosperity rob them of even the appearance ofmotive for such a terrible deed. "

No names mentioned; but O God! And that word _murdered_. Itswam before my eyes; it burned itself into every thing upon which Ilooked, it settled like a weight of iron upon my heart, pressing menearer and nearer and nearer to the ground, till finally----Ah! canit be that this is really I, and that I am standing here in adesolate place alone, with no human being in sight, and with a paperin my hand that seems to grow larger and larger as I gaze, and askme what I mean to do now, and whether in tearing it from the wallwhere it hung, I allied myself to the accused, or by one strokeproclaimed myself that avenger which, if the words on this paperwere true, I owed it to my Ada and the promise which I had given herto be? The cloud that enveloped my brain pressed upon me too closelyfor me to give an answer to questions so vital and terrific. I wasin a maze, --a horrible dream; I could not think, I could onlysuffer, and at last creep away like a shadow of guiltiness to wherea cluster of pine-trees made a sort of retreat into which I felt Icould thrust my almost maddened head and be lost. 

For great shocks reveal deep secrets, and in the light of thispitiless accusation, this fact had revealed itself without disguiseto my eyes, that it was love I felt for Dwight Pollard; notadmiration, not curiosity, not even the natural desire to understandone so seemingly impenetrable, but love, real, true, yearning, anddespotic love, which if well founded might have made my bliss for alifetime, and which now----I thrust the paper between my lips tokeep down the cry that rose there, and hiding my face deep down inthe turf, mourned the weakness that made me so ready a victim, whileat the same time I prepared to sustain the struggle which I knewmust there and then be waged and decided if I was ever to face theworld again with the strength and calmness which my nature demanded, and the extraordinary circumstances of my position imposed. 

The result was an hour of misery, with a sensation of triumph atthe end; though I do not pretend to say that in this one effort Iovercame the admiration and interest which attached my thoughts tothis man. The accusation was as yet too vague, and its source toodoubtful, to blot his image with ineffaceable stains; but I didsucceed in gaining sufficient mastery over myself to make itpossible to review the situation and give what I meant should be anunbiased judgment as to the duty it imposed upon me. 

The result was a determination to hold myself neutral till I had atleast discovered the author of the lines I held in my hand. If theycame from a credible person--but how could they do so and be writtenand posted up in the manner they were? An honest man does not seekany such roundabout way to strike his blow. Only a coward or avillain would take this method to arouse public curiosity, andperhaps create public suspicion. 

And yet who could say that a coward and a villain might not bespeaking the truth even in an accusation of this nature? The veryfact that it met and gave form and substance to my own dim andunrecognized fears, proved that something as yet unknown andunsounded connected the mysterious death of Mr. Barrows with thefamily towards which this accusation evidently pointed. While my ownheart beat with dread, how could I ignore the possibility of thesewords being the work of an accomplice disgusted with his crime, orof a tool anxious to save himself, and at the same time to avengesome fancied slight? I could not. If peace and hope were lost in theeffort, I must learn the truth and satisfy myself, once and for all, as to whose hatred and fear the Pollards were indebted forinsinuations at once so tremendous and so veiled. 

That I was the only person who had probably seen and read thesefatal words, lent purpose to my resolution. If, as I madly hoped, they were but the expression of suspicion, rather than of knowledge, what a satisfaction it would be for me to discover the fact, andpossibly unmask the cowardly author, before the public mind had beeninfected by his doubts. 

But how could I, a woman and a stranger, with no other talisman thanmy will and patience, accomplish a purpose which would be, perhaps, no easy one for a trained detective to carry out to a successfulissue? The characters in which the fatal insinuations had beenconveyed offered no clue. They were printed, and in so rough andcommonplace a manner that the keenest mind would have found itselfbaffled if it had attempted to trace its way to the writer throughthe mere medium of the lines he had transcribed. I must, therefore, choose some other means of attaining my end; but what one?

I had never, in spite of the many trials and embarrassments of mylife, been what is called an intriguing woman. Nor had I ever amusedmyself with forming plots or devising plans for extricatingimaginary characters out of fancied difficulties by the mereexercise of their wits. _Finesse_ was almost an unknown word tome, and yet, as I sat there with this fatal bit of paper in my hand, I felt that a power hitherto unguessed was awakening within me, andthat if I could but restrain the emotions which threatened todissipate my thoughts, I should yet hit upon a plan by which mydesign could be attained with satisfaction to myself and safety toothers. 

For--and this was my first idea--the paper had not been on the walllong. It was too fresh to have hung there overnight, and had, moreover, been too poorly secured to have withstood even for an hourthe assaults of a wind as keen as that which had been blowing allthe morning. It had, therefore, been put up a few moments before Icame, or, in other words, while the funeral services were beingheld; a fact which, to my mind, argued a deep calculation on thepart of the writer, for the hour was one to attract all wanderers tothe other end of the town, while the following one would, on thecontrary, see this quarter overflow with human beings, anxious tocomplete the impression made by the funeral services, by a visit tothe scene of the tragedy. 

That the sky had clouded over very much in the last half-hour, andthat the first drops of a heavy thunder-shower were even now siftingthrough the branches over my head, was doubtless the reason why noone besides myself had yet arrived upon the scene; and, should thestorm continue, this evil might yet be averted, and the one person Iwas most anxious to see, have an opportunity to show himself at theplace, without being confounded with a mass of disinterested people. For I felt he would return, and soon, to note the result of hisdaring action. In the crowd, if a crowd assembled, or alone, if itso chanced that no one came to the spot, he would draw near themill, and, if he found the notice gone, would betray, must betray, an interest or an alarm that would reveal him to my watchful eye. For I intended to take up my stand within the doorway, using, ifnecessary, the storm as my excuse for desiring its shelter; while asa precaution against suspicions that might be dangerous to me, aswell as a preventive against any one else ever reading theseaccusatory lines, I determined to dip the paper in the stream, andthen drop it near the place where it had been tacked, that it mightseem as if it had been beaten off by the rain, now happily fallingfaster and faster. 

All this I did, not without some apprehension of being observed by awatchful eye. For what surety had I that the writer of these wordswas not even now in hiding, or had not been looking at me from somesecret retreat at the very moment I tore the paper off the wall andfled with it into the bushes?

But this fear, if fear it was, was gradually dispelled as themoments sped by, and nothing beyond the wind and the fast drivingrain penetrated to where I stood. Nor did it look as if any break inwhat seemed likely to become a somewhat dread monotony would everoccur. The fierce dash of the storm was like a barrier, shutting meoff from the rest of the world, and had my purpose been lessserious, my will less nerved, I might have succumbed to thedreariness of the outlook and taken myself away while yet thegruesome influences that lay crouched in the darkness at my backremained in abeyance, and neither ghost's step nor man's step hadcome to shake the foundations of my courage and make of my silentwatch a struggle and a fear. 

But an intent like mine was not to be relinquished at the first callof impatience or dread. Honor, love, and duty were at stake, and Iheld to my resolution, though each passing moment made it moredifficult to maintain my hope as well as to sustain my composure. 

At last--oh, why did that hollow of darkness behind me reverberateso continually in my fancy?--there seemed, there was, a movement inthe bushes by the road, and a form crept gradually into sight that, when half seen, made the blood cease coursing through my veins; and, when fully in view, sent it in torrents to heart and brain; so deep, so vivid, so peculiar was the relief I felt. For--realize the effectupon me if you can--the figure that now stole towards me through thedank grass, looking and peering for the notice I had torn from thewall, was no other than my friend--or was it my enemy?--the idiotboy. 

He was soaked with the rain, but he seemed oblivious of the fact. For him the wind had evidently no fierceness, the wet no chill. Allhis energies--and he seemed, as in that first moment when I saw himin the summer-house, to be alive with them--were concentrated in thegaze of his large eyes, as, coming nearer and nearer, he searchedthe wall, then the ground, and finally, with a leap, picked up thesoaked and useless paper which I had dropped there. 

His expression as he raised himself and looked fiercely about almostmade me reveal myself. This an idiot, this trembling, wrathful, denunciatory figure, with its rings of hair clinging to a foreheadpale with passion and corrugated with thought! Were these gestures, sudden, determined, and full of subdued threatening, the offspringof an erratic brain or the expression of a fool's hatred? I couldnot believe it, and stood as if fascinated before this vision, thatnot only upset every past theory which my restless mind had beenable to form of the character and motives of the secret denunciatorof the Pollards, but awakened new thoughts and new inquiries of anature which I vaguely felt to be as mysterious as any which hadhitherto engaged my attention. 

Meantime the boy had crushed the useless paper in his hand, and, flinging it aside, turned softly about as if to go. I had no wish todetain him. I wished to make inquiries first, and learn if possibleall that was known of his history and circumstances before Icommitted myself to an interview. If he were an idiot--well, thatwould simplify matters much; but, if he were not, or, being one, hadmoments of reason, then a mystery appeared that would require allthe ingenuity and tact of a Machiavelli to elucidate. The laughwhich had risen from the shrubbery the night before, and the lookwhich Dwight Pollard had given when he heard it, proved that amystery did exist, and gave me strength to let the boy vanish frommy sight with his secret unsolved and his purposes unguessed. 

X. 

RHODA COLWELL. 

 I spare you common curses. --MRS. BROWNING. 

It was not long after this that the storm began to abate. Sunshinetook the place of clouds, and I was enabled to make my way back tothe town at the risk of nothing worse than wet feet. I went at onceto my boarding-house. Though I was expected back at the Pollards', though my presence seemed almost necessary there, I felt that itwould be impossible for me to enter their door till something of theshadow that now enveloped their name had fallen away. I thereforesent them word that unlooked-for circumstances compelled me toremain at home for the present; and having thus dismissed oneanxiety from my mind, set myself to the task of gleaning whatknowledge I could of the idiot boy. 

The result was startling. He was, it seemed, a real idiot--or so hadalways been regarded by those who had known him from his birth. Notone of the ugly, mischievous sort, but a gentle, chuckling vacant-brained boy, who loved to run the streets and mingle his harmlesslaughter with the shouts of playing children and the noise of millsand manufactories. 

He was an orphan, but was neither poor nor dependent, for--and herewas where the fact came in that astonished me--he had for protectora twin sister whose wits were as acute as his were dull; a sisterwho through years of orphanage had cherished and supported him, working sometimes for that purpose in the factories, and sometimessimply with her needle at home. They lived in a nest of a cottage onthe edge of the town, and had the sympathy of all, though notperhaps the full liking of any. For Rhoda, the sister, was a beingof an unique order, who, while arousing the interest of a few, baffled the comprehension of the many. She was a problem; a creatureout of keeping with her belongings and the circumstances in whichshe was placed. An airy, lissom, subtle specimen of woman, whosevery beauty was of an unknown order, causing as much inquiry asadmiration. A perfect blonde like her brother, she had none of thesweetness and fragility that usually accompanies this complexion. Onthe contrary, there was something bizarre in her whole appearance, and especially in the peculiar expression of her eye, that awakenedthe strangest feelings and produced even in the minds of those whosaw her engaged in the most ordinary occupations of life animpression of remoteness that almost amounted to the uncanny. Thefact that she affected brilliant colors and clothed both herself andbrother in garments of a wellnigh fantastic make, added to thisimpression, and gave perhaps some excuse to those persons whoregarded her as being as abnormally constituted as her brother, finding it impossible, I suppose, to reconcile waywardness withindustry, and a taste for the rich and beautiful with a poverty sorespectable, it scarcely made itself known for the reality it was. Ablonde gypsy some called her, a dangerous woman some others; and thelatter would undoubtedly have been correct had the girl possessedless pride of independence or been unhampered, as she wasuntrammelled, by the sense of responsibility towards her imbecilebrother. As it was, more than one mother had had reason to ask whyher son wore such a moody brow after returning from a certainquarter of the town, and at one time gossip had not hesitated todeclare that Dwight Pollard--the haughty Dwight Pollard--had notbeen ashamed to be seen entering her door, though every one knewthat no one stepped under its wreath of vines except theirintentions were as honorable as the beauty, if not the poverty, ofits owner demanded. 

When I heard this, and heard also that he visited her no more, Iseemed to have gained some enlightenment as to the odd andcontradictory actions of my famous idiot boy. He loved his sister, and was in some way imbued with a sense that she had been wronged. He was, therefore, jealous of any one who had, or seemed to have, gained the attention of the man who had possibly forsaken her. Yeteven with this explanation of his conduct, there was much for whichI could not account, making my intended interview with the sister amatter to be more or less apprehended. 

It was therefore with a composure altogether outward andsuperficial that I started for the quaint and tiny cottage whichhad been pointed out to me as the abode of these remarkable twins. Ireached it just as the clock struck three, and was immediatelyimpressed, as my informants evidently expected me to be, by the airof poetry and refinement that characterized even its humbleexterior. But it was not till I had knocked at the door and beenushered into the house by the idiot brother, that my realastonishment began. For though the room in which I found myself didnot, as I was afterwards assured, contain a single rich article, itcertainly had the effect of luxuriousness upon the eye; and had itnot been for my inward agitation and suspense, would have produced asense of languid pleasure, scarcely to be looked for in the abode ofa simple working-girl. As it was, I was dimly conscious of a slightrelief in the keen tension of my feelings, and turned with almost asensation of hope to the boy who was smiling and grimacing besideme. But here another shock awaited me, for this boy was not the oneI had seen at the mill barely two hours ago, or, rather, if it werethe same--and the identity of his features, figure, and dress withthose I knew so well, seemed to proclaim him to be--he was in sucha different mood now as to appear like another being. Laughing, merry, and inane, he bore on his brow no sign nor suggestion of thefierce passion I had seen there, nor did his countenance change, though I looked at him steadily and long with a gaze that was anything but in keeping with his seemingly innocent mirth. 

"It is not the boy I have known, " I suddenly decided in my mind; andI cannot say in what wild surmises I might have indulged, if at thatmoment the door at my back had not opened and a figure stepped inwhich at the first glance attracted my whole attention and absorbedall my thought. 

Imagine a woman, lithe, blonde, beautiful, intense; with featuresregular as the carver's hand could make them, but informed with aspirit so venomous, passionate, and perverse, that you lost sightof her beauty in your wonder at the formidable nature of thecharacter she betrayed. Then see her dressed as no other womanever dressed before, in a robe of scarlet of a cut and make quiteits own, and conceive, if you can, the agitation I felt as Irealized that in her I beheld my rival, my antagonist, the enemy ofDwight Pollard's peace and mine. 

That her face, even the hatred that visibly contracted it as hereyes met mine, were familiar to me in the countenance andexpression of the boy I had met, went for nothing. The beauty andmalice of a seeming imbecile, and the same characteristics in awoman subtle and decided as this, awaken very different emotionsin the mind. Though I had seen that same brow corrugated before, itwas like a revelation to behold it now, and watch how the rosylips took a straight line and the half-shut, mysterious eyes burnedlike a thread of light, as she stretched out one white hand andasked half imperiously, half threateningly:

"Who are you, and for what do you come to _me?_"

"I am Constance Sterling, " I retorted, satisfied that nothing shortof the heroic treatment would avail with this woman; "and if I donot mistake, I think you know very well why I come here. "

"Indeed!" came in something like a hiss from between her set lips. And in one short instant all that was best in her and all that wasworst became suddenly visible, as turning to her softly chucklingbrother, she motioned him gently out of the room, and then turningto me, advanced a step and said: "Will you explain yourself, Miss--or is it Mrs. Constance Sterling?"

"I will explain myself, " I returned, wondering, as I saw her cheekspale and her eyes emit strange and fitful sparks, if I exerted anysuch influence over her as she did over me. "I said I thought youknew why I came here. I said this, because this is not the firsttime we have met, nor am I the first one who has presumed to addressthe other in a tone that to a sensitive ear sounded like menace. Theidiot boy----"

"We will leave my brother out of the discussion, " she broke in, in avoice so distinct I scarcely noticed that it was nothing but awhisper. 

"I am not alluding to your brother, " I declared, meeting her eyeswith a look steady as her own, and I hope more open. 

"Oh, I see, " she murmured; and she took another step, while theflash of her glance cut like a knife. "You accuse me then----"

"Of assuming a disguise to spy upon Dwight Pollard. "

It was a well-sped shaft, and quivered alive and burning in herheart of hearts. She gave a spring like the panther she seemed atthat minute, but instantly recovered herself, and launching, uponme the strangest smile, mockingly exclaimed:

"You are a brave woman. " Then as I did not quail before herpassion, drew up her slight figure to its height and said: "We areworthy of each other, you and I. Tell me what you want. "

Then I felt my own cheek turn pale, and I was fain to sit upon thepile of cushions that were arranged in one corner for a seat. 

"What I want?" I repeated. "I want to know how you dared put inlanguage the insinuations which you hung up on the door of the oldmill this morning?"

Her eyes, narrowed, as I have said, in her seemingly habitualdesire to keep their secrets to herself, flashed wide open at this, while a low and mirthless laugh escaped her lips. 

"So my labor was not entirely wasted!" she cried. "You saw--"

"Both the lines and the writer, " I completed, relentlesslypreserving the advantage I felt myself to have gained--"the linesbefore they were defaced by the storm, the writer as she picked upthe useless paper and went away. "

"So!" she commented, with another echo of that joyless laughter;"there are two spies instead of one in this game!"

"There are two women instead of one who know your enmity andpurpose, " I retorted. 

"How came you at the mill?" she suddenly asked, after a moment ofsilent communion with her own repressed soul. 

"By accident, " was all my reply. 

"Were you alone?"

"I was. "

"Then no one but yourself saw the paper?"

"No one but myself. "

She gave me a look I made no sign of understanding. 

"Have you told any one of what you saw and read?" she inquired atlast, as she perceived I meant to volunteer nothing. 

"That I am not called upon to state, " I returned. 

"Oh, you would play the lawyer!" was her icy and quiet remark. 

"I would _play_ nothing, " was the answer that came from mylips. 

She drew back, and a change passed over her. 

Slowly as a fire is kindled, the passion grew and grew on her face. When it was at its height she leaned her two hands on a table thatstood between us, and, bending forward, whispered:

"Do you love him? Are you going to fight to keep his name free fromstain and his position unassailed before the world?"

Believe me if you can, but I could not answer; possibly because Ihad as yet no answer to the question in my soul. 

She took advantage of my hesitation. 

"Perhaps you think it is not worth while to fight me; that I have noreal weapons at my command?" and her eyes shot forth a flame thatdevoured my rising hopes and seared my heart as with a fiery steel. 

"I think you are a cruel woman, " I declared, "anxious to destroywhat no longer gives you pleasure. "

"You know my story then?" she whispered. "He has talked about me, and to you?"

"No, " I replied, in quiet disdain. "I know nothing save what yourown eyes and your conduct tell me. "

"Then you shall, " she murmured, after a moment's scrutiny of myface. "You shall hear how I have been loved, and how I have beenforsaken. Perhaps it will help you to appreciate the man who islikely to wreck both our lives. "

I must have lifted my head at this, for she paused and gave me acurious look. 

"You don't love him?" she cried. 

"I shall not let him wreck my life, " I responded. 

Her lip curled and her two hands closed violently at her sides. 

"You have not known him long, " she declared. "You have not seen himat your feet, or heard his voice, as day by day he pleaded more andmore passionately for a word or smile? You have not known histouch!"

"No, " I impetuously cried, fascinated by her glance and tone. 

I thought she looked relieved, and realized that her words mighthave been as much an inquiry as an assertion. 

"Then do not boast, " she said. 

The blood that was in my cheeks went out of them. I felt my eyesclose spasmodically, and hurriedly turned away my head. She watchedme curiously. 

"Do you think I succumbed without a struggle?" she vehemently asked, after a moment or two of this silent torture "Look at me. Am I awoman to listen to the passionate avowals of the first man thathappens to glance my way and imagine he would like to have me forhis wife? Is a handsome face and honeyed tongue sufficient to gainmy good graces, even when it is backed by the wealth. I love and theposition to which I feel myself equal? I tell you you do not knowRhoda Colwell, if you think she could be won easily. Days and dayshe haunted this room before I let his words creep much beyond myears. I had a brother who needed all my care and all my affection, and I did not mean to marry, much less to love. But slowly and bydegrees he got a hold upon my heart, and then, like the wretch whotrusts himself to the maelstrom, I was swept round and round intothe whirlpool of passion till not earth nor heaven could save me ormake me again the free and light-hearted girl I was. This was twoyears ago, and today--"

She stopped, choked. I had never seen greater passion, as I hadnever seen a more fiery nature. 

"It is his persistency I complain of, " she murmured at last. "Heforced me to love him. Had he left me when I first said 'No, ' Icould have looked down on his face to-day with contempt. But, no, hehad a fancy that I was his destiny, and that he must possess me ordie. Die? He would not even let _me_ die when I found that mylong-sought 'Yes' turned his worship into indifference, and hispassion into constraint. But--" she suddenly cried, with arepetition of that laugh which now sounded so fearful in my ears--"all this does not answer your question as to how I dared publishthe insinuations I tacked up on the mill-door this morning. "

"No, " I shudderingly cried. 

"Ah! I have waited long, " she passionately asserted. "Wrongs likemine are very patient, and are very still, but the time comes atlast when even a woman weak and frail as I am can lift her hand inpower; and when she does lift it--"

"Hush!" I exclaimed, bounding from my seat and seizing her upraisedarm; for her vivid figure seemed to emit a flame like death. "Hush!we want no tirades, you nor I; only let me hear what Dwight Pollardhas done, and whether you knew what you were saying when you calledhim and his family--"

"Murderers!" she completed. 

I shook, but bowed my head. She loosed her arm from my grasp andstood for one moment contemplating me. 

"You are a powerful rival, " she murmured. "He will love you just sixmonths longer than he did me. "

I summoned up at once my pride and my composure. 

"And that would be just six months too long, " I averred, "if he iswhat you declare him to be. "

"What?" came from between her set teeth, and she gave a spring thatbrought her close to my side. "You would hate him, if I proved toyou that he and his brother and his mother were the planners, if notthe executors, of Mr. Barrows' death. "

"Hate him?" I repeated, recoiling, all my womanhood up in armsbefore the fearful joy expressed in her voice and attitude. "Ishould try and forget such a man ever existed. But I shall not beeasily convinced, " I continued, as I saw her lips open with a sortof eager hope terrible to witness. "You are too anxious to kill mylove. "

"Oh, you will be convinced, " she asserted. "Ask Dwight Pollard whatsort of garments those are which lie under the boards of the oldmill, and see if he can answer you without trembling. "

"Garments?" I repeated, in astonishment; "garments?"

"Yes, " said she. "If he can hear you ask that question and not turnpale, stop me in my mad assertions, and fear his doom no more. Butif he flinches--"

A frightful smile closed up the gap, and she seemed by a look tomotion me towards the door. 

"But is that all you are going to tell me?" I queried, dismayed atthe prospect of our interview terminating thus. 

"Is it not enough?" she asked. "When you have seen _him_, Iwill see _you_ again. Can you not wait for that hour?"

I might have answered No. I was tempted to do so, as I had beentempted more than once to exert the full force of my spirit andcrush her. But I had an indomitable pride of my own, and did notwish to risk even the semblance of defeat. So I controlled myselfand merely replied:

"I do not desire to see Dwight Pollard again. I am not intending toreturn to his house. "

"And yet you will see him, " she averred. "I can easily be patienttill then. " And she cast another look of dismissal towards the door. 

"You are a demon!" I felt tempted to respond, but my own dignityrestrained me as well as her beauty, which was something absolutelydazzling in its intensity and fire. "I will have the truth from youyet, " was what I did say, as I moved, heart-sick and desponding, from her side. 

And her slow "No doubt, " seemed to fill up the silence like a knell, and give to my homeward journey a terror and a pang which provedthat however I had deceived myself, hope had not quite given up itssecret hold upon my heart. 

And I dreamed of her that night, and in my dream her evil beautyshone so triumphantly that my greatest wonder was not that DwightPollard had succumbed to her fascinations, but that having once seenthe glint of that subtle soul shine from between those half-shutlids, he could ever have found strength to turn aside and let thefire he had roused burn itself away. 

XI. 

UNDER THE MILL FLOOR. 

 I know, this act shows terrible and grim. --OTHELLO. 

I had never considered myself a courageous person. I was thereforesurprised at my own temerity when, with the morning light, came animpulse to revisit the old mill, and by an examination of itsflooring, satisfy myself to whether it held in hiding any sucharticles as had been alluded to by Rhoda Colwell in the remarkableinterview just cited. Not that I intended to put any such questionto Dwight Pollard as she had suggested, or, indeed, had anyintentions at all beyond the present. The outlook was too vague, myown mind too troubled, for me to concoct plans or to make anyelaborate determinations. I could only perform the duty of themoment, and this visit seemed to me to be a duty, though not one ofthe pleasantest or even of the most promising character. 

I had therefore risen and was preparing myself in an abstracted wayfor breakfast, when I was violently interrupted by a resoundingknock at the door. Alarmed, I scarcely knew why, I hastened to openit, and fell back in very visible astonishment when I beheldstanding before me no less a person than Anice, the late Mrs. Pollard's maid. 

"I wanted to see you, miss, " she said, coming in without aninvitation, and carefully closing the door behind her. "So, as I hadleave to attend early mass this morning, I just slipped over here, which, if it is a liberty, I hope you will pardon, seeing it is foryour own good. "

Not much encouraged by this preamble, I motioned her to take a seat, and then, turning my back to her, went on arranging my hair. 

"I cannot imagine what errand you have with me, Anice, " said I; "butif it is any thing important, let me hear it at once, as I have anengagement this morning, and am in haste. "

A smile, which I could plainly see in the mirror before which Istood, passed slyly over her face. She took up her parasol from herlap, then laid it down again, and altogether showed considerableembarrassment. But it did not last long, and in another moment shewas saying, in quite a bold way:

"You took my place beside the mistress I loved, but _I_ don'tbear you no grudge, miss. On the contrary, I would do you a goodturn; for what are we here for, miss, if it's not to help oneanother?"

As I had no answer for this worthy sentiment, she lapsed again intoher former embarrassed state and as speedily recovered from it. Simpering in a manner that unconsciously put me on my guard, sheremarked:

"You left us very suddenly yesterday, miss. Of course that is yourown business, and I have nothing to say against it. But I thought ifyou knew what might be gained by staying--" She paused and gave mea look that was almost like an appeal. 

But I would not help her out. 

"Why, " she went on desperately, with a backward toss of her head, "you might think as how we was not such very bad folks after all. Iam sure you would make a very nice mistress to work for, MissSterling, " she simpered; "and if you would just let me help you withyour hair as I did old Mrs. Pollard--"

Angry, mortified, and ashamed of myself that I had listened to herso far, I turned on her with a look that seemed to make someimpression even upon her. 

"How dare you--" I began, then paused, shocked at my own imprudencein thus betraying the depth of the feelings she had aroused. "I begyour pardon, " I immediately added, recovering my composure by adetermined effort; "you doubtless did not consider that you are notin a position to speak such words to me. Even if your insinuationsmeant any thing serious, which I will not believe, ouracquaintance"--I am afraid I threw some sarcasm into that word--"hasscarcely been long enough to warrant you in approaching me on anysubject of a personal nature, least of all one that involves thenames of those you live with and have served so long. If you havenothing better to say--"

She rose with a jerk that seemed to my eyes as much an expression ofdisappointment as anger, and took a reluctant step or two towardsthe door. 

"I am sure I meant no offence, miss, " she stammered, and tookanother step still more reluctantly than before. 

I trembled. Outrageous as it may seem, I wished at this moment thathonor and dignity would allow me to call her back and question heras to the motive and meaning of her extraordinary conduct. For thethought had suddenly struck me that she might be a messenger--amost unworthy and humiliating one it is true, --and yet in some sortof a way a messenger, and my curiosity rose just in proportion as mypride rebelled. 

Anice, who was not lacking in wit, evidently felt, if she could notsee, the struggle she had awakened in my mind, for she turned andgave me a look I no longer had the courage to resent. 

"It is only something I overheard Mr. Guy say to his brother, " shefaltered, opening and shutting her parasol with a nervous hand;then, as I let my hair suddenly fall from my grasp, in the rush ofrelief I felt, blurted out: "You have beautiful hair, miss; I don'twonder Mr. Guy should say, 'One of us two must marry that girl, '"and was gone like a flash from the room, leaving me in a state thatbordered on stupefaction. 

This incident, so suggestive, and, alas! so degrading to my self-esteem, produced a deep and painful effect on my mind. For hours Icould not rid my ears of that final sentence: "One of us two mustmarry that girl. " Nor could the events that speedily followed quiteremove from my mind and heart the sting which this knowledge of thePollards' base calculation and diplomacy had implanted. It had onefavorable consequence, however. It nerved me to carry out theexpedition I had planned, and gave to my somewhat failing purpose aheart of steel. 

The old mill to which I have twice carried you, and to which I mustcarry you again, was, as I have already said, a dilapidated andmuch-dismantled structure. Though its walls were intact, many ofits staircases were rotten, while its flooring was, as I knew, heavily broken away in spots, making it a dangerous task to walkabout its passage-ways, or even to enter the large and solitaryrooms which once shook to the whirr and hum of machinery. 

But it was not from such dangers as these I recoiled. If Heavenwould but protect me from discovery and the possible intrusion ofunwelcome visitants, I would willingly face the peril of a falleven in a place so lonesome and remote. Indeed, my one source ofgratitude as I sped through the streets that morning lay in thefact, I was so little known in S----, I could pass and re-passwithout awakening too much comment, especially when I wore a closeveil, as I did on this occasion. 

Rhoda Colwell's house lay in my way. I took especial pains not to goby it, great as the relief would have been to know she was at homeand not wandering the streets in the garb and character of the idiotboy. Though I felt I could not be deceived as to her identity, themere thought of meeting her, with that mock smile of imbecility uponher lip, filled me with a dismay that made my walk any thing butagreeable. It was consequently a positive relief when the entranceto the mill broke upon my view, and I found myself at my journey'send unwatched and unfollowed; nor could the unpromising nature of mytask quite dash the spirit with which I began my search. 

My first efforts were in a room which had undoubtedly been used asan office. But upon inspecting the floor I found it firm, and, convinced I should have to go farther for what I was seeking, Ihastily passed into the next room. This was of much largerdimensions, and here I paused longer, for more than one board tiltedas I passed over it, and not a few of them were loose and could beshifted aside by a little extra exertion of strength. But, though Iinvestigated every board that rocked under my step, I discoverednothing beneath them but the dust and _debris_ of years, and sowas forced to leave this room as I had the other, without gainingany thing beyond a sense of hopelessness and the prospect of aweary back. And so on and on I went for an hour, and was beginningto realize the giant nature of my undertaking, when a sudden lowsound of running water broke upon my ears, and going to one of themany windows that opened before me, I looked out and found I was atthe very back of the mill, and in full sight of the dark and sullenstream that in times of yore used to feed the great wheel and runthe machinery. Consequently I was in the last room upon the ground-floor, and, what struck me still more forcibly, near, if notdirectly over, that huge vat in the cellar which had served so fatala purpose only a few short days before. 

The sight of a flight of stairs descending at my right into thehollow darkness beneath intensified my emotion. I seemed to be indirect communication with that scene of death; and the thoughtstruck me that here, if anywhere in the whole building, must befound the mysterious hiding-place for which I was in search. 

It was therefore with extra care that I directed my glances alongthe uneven flooring, and I was scarcely surprised when, after ashort examination of the various loose boards that rattled beneathme, I discovered one that could be shifted without difficulty. Butscarcely had I stooped to raise it when an emotion of fear seizedme, and I started back alert and listening, though I was unconsciousof having heard any thing more than the ordinary swash of the waterbeneath the windows and the beating of my own overtaxed heart. Aninstant's hearkening gave me the reassurance I needed, and convincedthat I had alarmed myself unnecessarily, I bent again over theboard, and this time succeeded in moving it aside. A long, blackgarment, smoothly spread out to its full extent, instantly met myeye. The words of Rhoda Colwell were true; the mill did containcertain articles of clothing concealed within it. 

I do not know what I expected when, a few minutes later, I pulledthe garment out of the hole in which it lay buried, and spread itout before me. Not what I discovered, I am sure; for when I hadgiven it a glance, and found it was nothing more nor less than adomino, such as is worn by masqueraders, I experienced a shock thatthe mask, which fell out of its folds, scarcely served to allay. Itwas like the introduction of farce into a terrible tragedy; and asI stood in a maze and surveyed the garment before me till its blackoutline swam before my eyes, I remember thinking of the effect whichhad been produced, at a certain trial I had heard of, by theprisoner suddenly bursting into a laugh when the sentence of deathwas pronounced. But presently this feeling of incongruity gave wayto one of hideous dread. If Dwight Pollard could explain thepresence of a domino and mask in this spot, then what sort of a manwas Dwight Pollard, and what sort of a crime could it have been thatneeded for its perpetration such adjuncts as these? The highwaymenof olden time, with their "Stand and deliver!" seemed out of placein this quiet New England town; nor was the character of any of theparties involved, of a nature to make the association of thismasquerade gear with the tragedy gone by seem either possible oreven probable. And yet, there they lay; and not all my wonder, norall the speculations which their presence evoked, would serve toblot them from the floor or explain the mystery of which they werethe sign and seal. 

So impressed was I at last by this thought that I broke the spellwhich bound me, and began to restore the articles to their place. Iwas just engaged in throwing the mask into the hole, when the lowbut unmistakable sound of an approaching foot-fall broke upon myears, startling me more than a thunder-clap would have done, andfilling me with a fear that almost paralyzed my movements. Icontrolled myself, however, and hastily pulled the board back to itsplace, after which I frantically looked about me for some means ofconcealment or escape. I found but one. The staircase which randown to the cellar was but a few feet off, and if I could summoncourage to make use of it, would lead to a place of comparativesafety. But the darkness of that spot seemed worse than the light ofthis, and I stood hesitating on the brink of the staircase till thefootsteps drew so near I dared not linger longer, and plunged belowwith such desperate haste, I wonder I did not trip and fall headlongto the cellar-floor. I did not, however, nor do I seem to have madeany special noise, for the footsteps above did not hasten. I had, therefore, the satisfaction of feeling myself saved from what mighthave been a very special danger, and was moving slowly away, whenthe fascination which all horrible objects exert upon the human soulseized me with a power I could not resist, and I turned slowly butirresistibly towards the corner where I knew the fatal vat to be. 

One glimpse and I would have fled; but just at the instant I turnedI heard a sound overhead that sent the current of my thoughts in afresh direction, and lent to my failing courage a renewed strengthwhich made flight at that moment seem nothing more nor less than animpulse of cowardice. This was nothing more nor less than a faintcreaking, such as had followed my own lifting of the board which hidthe domino and mask; a noise that was speedily followed by one yetmore distinct and of a nature to convince me beyond a doubt that myown action was being repeated by some unknown hand. Whose?Curiosity, love, honor, every impulse of my being impelled me tofind out. I moved like a spirit towards the stairs. I placed my footon one step, and then on another, mounting in silence and without afear, so intent was I upon the discovery which now absorbed me. Butjust as I reached the top, just when another movement would lift myhead above the level of the floor, I paused, realizing as in a flashwhat the consequences might be if the intruder should prove to beanother than Rhoda Colwell, and should have not his back but hisface turned towards the place where I stood. The sounds I heard, feeble as they were, did not seem to indicate the presence of awoman, and in another instant a low exclamation, smothered in thethroat almost before it was uttered, assured me that it was a manwho stood not six feet from me, handling the objects which I hadbeen told were in some way connected with a murder which I was byevery instinct of honor bound to discover, if not avenge. 

A man! and ah, he was so quiet, so careful! I could not even guesswhat he was doing, much less determine his identity, by listening. Ihad a conviction that he was taking the articles out of their placeof concealment, but I could not be sure; and in a matter like this, certainty was indispensable. I resolved to risk all, and tookanother step, clinging dizzily to the first support that offered. Itwas well I had the presence of mind to do this, or I might have hada serious fall. For no sooner had I raised my head above the levelof the floor than my eyes fell upon the well-known form of him Idesired least of all men to see in this place--my lover, if you maycall him so--Dwight Pollard. 

XII. 

DWIGHT POLLARD. 

 Oh, 'tis too true! how smart A lash that speech doth give my conscience! --HAMLET. 

He was standing with his back to me, and to all appearance wasunconscious that he was under the surveillance of any eye. I hadthus a moment in which to collect my energies and subdue myemotions; and I availed myself of it to such good purpose that bythe time he had put the board back into its place I was ready toface him. He did not turn round, however; so, after a moment ofsilent suspense, I mounted the last stair, and thinking of nothing, hoping for nothing, wishing for nothing, stood waiting, with my eyesfixed on the domino he was now rapidly folding into smaller compass. 

And thus I stood, like a pallid automaton, when the instant came forhim to change his position, and he saw me. The cry that rose to hislips but did not escape them, the reel which his figure gave beforeit stiffened into marble, testified to the shock he had received, and also to the sense of unreality with which my appearance in thiswise must have impressed him. His look, his attitude were those of aman gazing upon a spectre, and as I met his glance with mine, I wasconscious of a feeling of unreality myself, as if the wholeoccurrence were a dream, and he and I but shadows which anothermoment would dissolve. 

But alas! this was no more a dream than were the other strange andtragic events which had gone before; and in an instant we both knewit, and were standing face to face with wretched inquiry in thelooks we fixed upon each other across the domino which had fallenfrom his hands. He was the first to speak. 

"Miss Sterling!" he exclaimed, in a light tone, cruelly belied bythe trembling lips from which it issued, "by what fortunate chancedo I see you again, and in a place I should have thought to be thelast you would be likely to visit?"

"By the same chance, " I rejoined, "which appears to have brought youhere. The desire to make sure if what I heard about the mill havingbeen used as a secreting place for certain mysterious articles, wastrue. " And I pointed to the mask and domino lying at my feet. 

His eye, which had followed the direction of my finger, grew darkand troubled. 

"Then it was your hand--" he impetuously began. 

"Which disturbed these garments before you? Yes. And I shall make noapology for the action, " I continued, "since it was done in the hopeof proving false certain insinuations which had been made to me inyour regard. "

"Insinuations?" he repeated. 

"Yes, " I declared, in an agony between my longing to hear himvindicate himself and the desire to be true to the obligations I wasunder to Ada Reynolds. "Insinuations of the worst, the mostterrible, character. " Then, as I saw him fall back, stricken insomething more than his pride, I hastened to inquire: "Have you anenemy in town, Mr. Pollard?"

He composed himself with a start, looked at me fixedly, and repliedin what struck me as a strange tone even for such an occasion asthis:

"Perhaps. "

"One who out of revenge, " I proceeded, "might be induced to attachyour name to suspicions calculated to rob you of honor, if notlife?"

"Perhaps, " he again returned; but this time with a fierceness thatalmost made me recoil, though I knew it was directed against someone besides myself. 

"Then it may be, " I said, "that you have but to speak to relieve mymind of the heaviest weight which has ever fallen upon it. Thesearticles, " I pursued, "have they, or have they not, any connectionwith the tragedy which makes the place in which we stand memorable?"

"I cannot answer you, Miss Sterling. "

"Cannot answer me?"

"Cannot answer you, " he reiterated, turning haggard about the eyesand lips. 

"Then, " I brokenly rejoined, "I had better leave this place; I donot see what more I have to do or say here. "

"O God!" he cried, detaining me with a gesture full of agony anddoubt. "Do not leave me so; let me think. Let me weigh the situationand see where I stand, in your eyes at least. Tell me what my enemyhas said!" he demanded, his face, his very form, flashing with aterrible rage that seemed to have as much indignation as fear in it. 

"Your enemy, " I replied, in the steady voice of despair, "accusesyou in so many words--of murder. "

I expected to see him recoil, burst forth into cursing or frenzieddeclamation, by which men betray their inward consternation andremorse; but he did none of these things. Instead of that helaughed; a hideous laugh that seemed to shake the rafters above usand echoed in and out of the caverned recesses beneath. 

"Accuses _me_?" he muttered; and it is not in language toexpress the scorn he infused into the words. 

Stunned, and scarcely knowing what to think, I gazed at himhelplessly. He seemed to feel my glance, for, after a moment'scontemplation of my face, his manner suddenly changed, and bowingwith a grim politeness full of sarcasm, he asked:

"And when did you see my enemy and hold this precious conversationin which _I_ was accused of murder?"

"Yesterday afternoon, " I answered. "During the time of your mother'sfuneral, " I subjoined, startled by the look of stupefaction whichcrossed his face at my words. 

"I don't understand you, " he murmured, sweeping his hand in a dazedway over his brow. "You saw him then? Spoke to him? Impossible!"

"It is not a man to whom I allude, " I returned, almost as muchagitated as himself. "It is a woman who is your accuser, a woman whoseems to feel she has a right to make you suffer, possibly becauseshe has suffered so much herself. "

"A woman!" was all he said; "a woman!" turning pale enough now, Godknows. 

"Have you no enemies among the women?" I asked, wearied to the soulwith the position in which my cruel fate had forced me. 

"I begin to think I have, " he answered, giving me a look thatsomehow broke down the barriers of ice between us and made my nextwords come in a faltering tone:

"And could you stop to bestow a thought upon a man while a womanheld your secret? Did you think our sex was so long-suffering, orthis special woman so generous----"

I did not go on, for he had leaped the gap which separated us andhad me gently but firmly by the arm. 

"Of whom are you speaking?" he demanded. "What woman has my secret--if secret I have? Let me hear her name, now, at once. "

"Is it possible, " I murmured, "that you do not know?"

"The name! the name!" he reiterated, his eyes ablaze, his handshaking where it grasped my arm. 

"Rhoda Colwell, " I returned, looking him steadily in the eye. 

"Impossible!" his lips seemed to breathe, and his clasp slowlyunloosed from my arm like a ring of ice which melts away. "RhodaColwell! Good God!" he exclaimed, and staggered back with ever-growing wonder and alarm till half the room lay between us. 

"I am not surprised at your emotion, " I said; "she is a dangerouswoman. "

He looked at me with dull eyes; he did not seem to hear what I said. 

"How can it be?" he muttered; and his glance took a furtive aspectas it travelled slowly round the room and finally settled upon themask and domino at my feet. "Was it she who told you where to lookfor those?" he suddenly queried in an almost violent tone. 

I bowed; I had no wish to speak. 

"She is an imp, a witch, an emissary of the Evil One, " he vehementlydeclared; and turned away, murmuring, as it seemed to me, thosesacred words of Scripture, "Be sure your sin find you out. "

I felt the sobs rise in my throat. I could bear but little more. Torecover myself, I looked away from him, even passed to a window andgazed out. Any thing but the sight of this humiliation in one whocould easily have been my idol. I was therefore standing with myback to him when he finally approached, and touching me with the tipof his finger, calmly remarked;

"I did not know you were acquainted with Miss Colwell. "

"Nor was I till yesterday, " I rejoined. "Fate made us know eachother at one interview, if could be said to ever know such a womanas she is. "

"Fate is to blame for much; is it also to blame for the fact thatyou sought her? Or did she seek you?"

"I sought her, " I said; and, not seeing any better road to a properexplanation of my conduct than the truth, I told him in a few wordsof the notice I had seen posted upon the mill, and of how I hadafterwards surprised Rhoda Colwell there, and what the conclusionswere which I had thereby drawn; though, from some motive of delicacyI do not yet understand, I refrained from saying any thing about herdisguise, and left him to infer that it was in her own proper personI had seen her. 

He seemed to be both wonder-stricken and moved by the recital, anddid not rest till he had won from me the double fact that RhodaColwell evidently knew much more than she revealed, while I, on thecontrary, knew much less. The latter discovery seemed to greatlygratify him, and while his brow lost none of the look of heavyanxiety which had settled upon it with the introduction of thiswoman's name into our colloquy, I noticed that his voice waslighter, and that he surveyed me with less distrust and possiblywith less fear. His next words showed the direction his thoughtswere taking. 

"You have shown an interest in my fate, Miss Sterling, in spite ofthe many reasons you had for thinking it a degraded one, and forthis I thank you with all my heart. Will you prove your womanlinessstill further by clinging to the belief which I have endeavored toforce upon you, that notwithstanding all you have heard and seen, Istand in no wise amenable to the law, neither have I uttered, inyour hearing at least, aught but the truth in regard to this wholematter?"

"And you can swear this to me?" I uttered, joyfully. 

"By my father's grave, if you desire it, " he returned. 

A flood of hope rushed through my heart. I was but a weak woman, andhis voice and look at that moment would have affected the coldestnature. 

"I am bound to believe you, " I said; "though there is much I do notunderstand--much which you ought to explain if you wish to disabusemy mind of all doubt in your regard. I would be laying claim to acynicism I do not possess, if I did not trust your words just so faras you will allow me. But----" And I must have assumed an air ofseverity, for I saw his head droop lower and lower as I gazed at himand forbore to finish my sentence. 

"But you believe I am a villain, " he stammered. 

"I would fain believe you to be the best and noblest of men, " Ianswered, pointedly. 

He lifted his head, and the flush of a new emotion swept over hisface. 

"Why did I not meet you two years ago?" he cried. 

The tone was so bitter, the regret expressed so unutterable, I couldnot help my heart sinking again with the weight of fresh doubt whichit brought. 

"Would it have been better for me if you had?" I inquired. "Is theintegrity which is dependent upon one's happiness, or the sympathyof friends, one that a woman can trust to under all circumstances oftemptation or trial?"

"I do not know, " he muttered. "I think it would stand firm with youfor its safeguard and shield. " Then, as he saw me draw back with anassumption of coldness I was far from feeling, added gently: "But itwas not you, but Rhoda Colwell, I met two years ago, and I know youtoo well, appreciate you too well, to lay aught but my sinceresthomage at your feet, in the hope that, whatever I may have been inthe past, the future shall prove me to be not unworthy of yoursympathy, and possibly of your regard. "

And, as if he felt the stress of the interview becoming almost toogreat for even his strength, he turned away from me and begangathering up the toggery that lay upon the floor. 

"These must not remain here, " he observed, bitterly. 

But I, drawn this way and that by the most contradictory emotions, felt that all had not been said which should be in this importantand possibly final interview. Accordingly, smothering personalfeeling and steeling myself to look only at my duty, I advanced tohis side, and, indicating with a gesture the garments he was nowrolling up into a compact mass, remarked:

"This may or may not involve you in some unpleasantness. RhodaColwell, who evidently attaches much importance to her discoveries, is not the woman to keep silent in their regard. If she speaks andforces me to speak, I must own the truth, Mr. Pollard. Neithersympathy nor regard could hold me back; for my honor is pledged tothe cause of Mr. Barrows, and not even the wreck of my own happinesscould deter me from revealing any thing that would explain his deathor exonerate his memory. I wish you to understand this. God grant Imay never be called upon to speak!"

It was a threat, a warning, or a danger for which he was whollyunprepared. He stared at me for a moment from his lowly position onthe floor, then slowly rose and mechanically put his hand to histhroat, as if he felt himself choking. 

"I thank you for your frankness, " he murmured, in almost inaudibletones. "It is no more than I ought to have expected; and yet--" Heturned abruptly away. "I am evidently in a worse situation than Iimagined, " he continued, after a momentary pacing of the floor. "Ithought only my position in your eyes was assailed; I see now that Imay have to defend myself before the world. " And, with a suddenchange that was almost alarming, he asked if Rhoda Colwell hadintimated in any way the source of whatever information sheprofessed to have. 

I told him no, and felt my heart grow cold with new and undefinedfears as he turned his face toward the front of the building, andcried, in a suppressed tone, full of ire and menace:

"It could have come but in one way; I am to be made a victim if----"He turned upon me with a wild look in which there was somethingpersonal. "Are you worth the penalty which my good name mustsuffer?" he violently cried. "For I swear that to you and you only Iowe the position in which I now stand!"

"God help me then!" I murmured, dazed and confounded by thisunexpected reproach. 

"Had you been less beautiful, less alluring in your dignity andgrace, my brother----" He paused and bit his lip. "Enough!" hecried. "I had wellnigh forgotten that generosity and forbearance areto actuate my movements in the future. I beg your pardon--and his!"he added, with deep and bitter sarcasm, under his breath. 

This allusion to Guy, unpleasant and shocking as it was, gave me apeculiar sensation that was not unlike that of relief, while at thesame moment the glimpse of something, which I was fain to call arevelation, visited my mind and led me impetuously to say:

"I hope you are not thinking of sacrificing yourself for anotherless noble and less generous than yourself. If such is the clew toactions which certainly have looked dubious till now, I pray thatyou will reconsider your duty and not play the Don Quixote too far. "

But Dwight Pollard, instead of accepting this explanation of hisconduct with the eagerness of a great relief, only shook his headand declared:

"My brother--for I know who you mean, Miss Sterling--is no moreamenable to the law than myself. Neither of us were guilty of theaction that terminated Mr. Barrows' life. "

"And yet, " came in the strange and unexpected tones of a thirdperson, "can you say, in the presence of her you profess to respectand of me whom you once professed to love, that either you or yourbrother are guiltless of his death?" and turning simultaneouslytoward the doorway, we saw gleaming in its heavy frame the vividform and glittering eyes of his most redoubtable enemy and mine--Rhoda Colwell. 

He fell back before this apparition and appeared to lose his powerof speech. She advanced like an avenging Nemesis between us. 

"Speak!" she vehemently exclaimed. "Are you--I say nothing of yourbrother, who is nothing to me or to her--are _you_ guiltless, in the sense in which she would regard guilt, of David Barrows'death?" And her fierce eyes, shining through her half-closed lasheslike lurid fires partly veiled, burned upon his face, which, turningpaler and paler, drooped before her gaze till his chin settled uponhis breast and we could barely hear the words that fell from hislips:

"God knows I would not dare to say I am. "

XIII. 

GUY POLLARD. 

 I will tell you why. --HAMLET. 

There was a silence, then Dwight Pollard spoke again. "I have madea confession which I never expected to hear pass my lips. She whohas forced it from me doubtless knows how much and how little itmeans. Let her explain herself, then. I have no further business inthis place. " And, without lifting his head or meeting the eye ofeither of us, he strode past us towards the door. 

But there he paused, for Rhoda Colwell's voice had risen in wordsthat must be answered. 

"And where, then, have you business if not here? Do you not know Ihold your good name, if not your life, in my hands?"

"My good name, " he slowly rejoined, without turning his head, "isalready lost in the eyes I most valued. As for my life, it stands inno jeopardy. Would I could say the same for his!" was his fierceaddition. 

"His?" came from Rhoda Colwell's lips, in surprise. "His?" and witha quick and subtle movement she glided to his side and seized himimperatively by the arm. "Whom do you mean?" she asked. 

He turned on her with a dark look. 

"Whom do I mean?" he retorted. "Whom should I mean but the base andunnatural wretch who, for purposes of his own, has made you thearbitrator of my destiny and the avenger of my sin--my brother, myvile, wicked brother, whom may Heaven----"

"Stop! Your brother has had nothing to do with this. Do you supposeI would stoop to take information from him? What I know I knowbecause my eyes have seen it, Dwight Pollard! And now, what do youthink of the clutch I hold upon your life?" and she held out thosetwo milk-white hands of hers with a smile such as I hope never tosee on mortal face again. 

He looked at them, then at her, and drew back speechless. She burstinto a low but ringing laugh of immeasurable triumph. 

"And you thought such a blow as this could come _from a man_!Dullard and fool you must be, Dwight Pollard, or else you have neverknown _me_. Why should he risk his honor and his safety in anaction as dangerous to him as ungrateful to you? Because he admires_her_? Guy Pollard is not so loving. But I--I whom you taughtto be a woman, only to fling aside like a weed--Ah, that is anotherthing! Reason for waiting and watching here; reason for denouncing, when the time came, the man who could take advantage of anotherman's fears! Ah, you see I know what I am talking about. "'

"Speak!" he gasped. "How do you know? You say you saw. How could yousee? Where were you, demon and witch in one?"

She smiled, not as before, but yet with a sense of power that onlythe evil glitter of her sidelong eye kept from making her whollyadorable. 

"Will you come into the cellar below?" said she. "Or stay; that maybe asking too much. A glance from one of these windows will do. "And moving rapidly across the room, she threw up one of the brokensashes before her, and pointed to a stunted tree that grew up closeagainst the wall. "Do you see that limb?" she inquired, indicatingone that branched put towards a window we could faintly see definedbeneath. "A demon or a witch might sit there for a half-hour andsee, without so much as craning her neck, all that went on in thecellar below. That the leaves are thick, and, to those within, apparently hang like a curtain between them and the outer world, would make no difference to a demon's eyes, you know. Such folk cansee where black walls intervene; how much more when only afluttering screen like that shuts off the view. " And, drawing back, she looked into his dazed face, and then into mine, as though shewould ask: "Have I convinced you that I am a woman to be feared?"

His white cheek seemed to answer Yes, but his eyes, when he raisedthem, did not quail before her mocking glance, though I thought theydrooped a little when, in another moment, they flashed in mydirection. 

"Miss Sterling, " he inquired, "do you understand what Miss Colwellhas been saying?"

I shook my head and faltered back. I had only one wish, and thatwas to be effaced from this spot of misery. 

He turned again to her. 

"Do you intend to explain yourself further?" he demanded. 

She did not answer; her look and her attention were fixed upon me. 

"You are not quite convinced he is all that I have declared him tobe?" she said, moving towards me. "You want to know what I saw andwhether there is not some loophole by which you can escape fromutterly condemning him. Well, you shall have my story. I ask nothingmore of you than that. " And with a quiet ignoring of his presencethat was full of contempt, she drew up to my side and calmly began:"You have seen me in the streets in the garb of my brother?"

"Your brother?" cried a startled voice. 

It was Dwight Pollard who spoke. He had sprung to her side andgrasped her fiercely by the wrist. It was a picture; all the morethat neither of them said any thing further, but stood so, surveyingeach other, till he thought fit to drop her arm and draw back, whenshe quietly went on as though no interruption had occurred. 

"It was a convenient disguise, enabling me to do and learn manythings. It also made it possible for me to be out in the eveningalone, and allowed me to visit certain places where otherwise Ishould have been any thing but welcome. It also satisfied a spiritof adventure which I possess, and led to the experience which I amnow about to relate. Miss Sterling, my brother has one peculiarity. He can be intrusted to carry a message, and forget it ten minutesafter it is delivered. This being generally known in town, I was notat all surprised when one evening, as I was traversing a very darkstreet, I was met and accosted by a muffled figure, who asked me ifI would run to Mr. Barrows' house for him. I was about to say No, when something in his general air and manner deterred me, and Ichanged it into the half-laughing, half-eager assent which mybrother uses on such occasions. The man immediately stooped to myear and whispered:

"'Tell Mr. Barrows to come with all speed to the old mill. A man hasbeen thrown from his carriage and is dying there. He wants Mr. Barrows' prayers and consolation. Can you remember?'

"I nodded my head and ran off. I was fearful, if I stayed, I wouldbetray myself; for the voice, with all its attempted disguise, wasthat of Guy Pollard, and the man injured might for all I knew be hisbrother. Before I reached Mr. Barrows' door, however, I began tohave my doubts. Something in the man's manner betrayed mystery, andas Guy Pollard had never been a favorite of mine, I naturally gaveto this any thing but a favorable interpretation. I did not stop, though, because I doubted. On the contrary, I pushed forward, for ifthere was a secret, I must know it; and how could I learn it soreadily or so well as by following Mr. Barrows on his errand ofmercy?

"The person who came to the door in answer to my summons wasfortunately Mr. Barrows himself; fortunately for me, that is; Icannot say it was altogether fortunately for him. He had a littlebook in his hand, and seemed disturbed when I gave him my message. He did not hesitate, however. Being of an unsuspicious nature, henever dreamed that all was not as I said, especially as he knew mybrother well, and was thoroughly acquainted with the exactness withwhich he always executed an errand. But he did not want to go; thatI saw clearly, and laid it all to the little book; for he was thekindest man who ever lived, and never was known to shirk a dutybecause it was unpleasant or hard. 

"I have said he knew my brother well. Remembering this when he camedown stairs again ready to accompany me, I assumed the wildestmanner in which my brother ever indulged, that I might have someexcuse for not remaining at his side while still accompanying him inhis walk. The consequence was that not a dozen words passed betweenus, and I had the satisfaction of seeing him draw near the old millin almost complete forgetfulness of my proximity. This was what Iwanted, for in the few minutes I had to think, many curious surmiseshad risen in my mind, and I wished to perform my little part in thisadventure without hindrance from his watchfulness or care. 

"It was a very dark night, as you remember, Dwight Pollard, and itis no wonder that neither he nor the man who came out of the doorwayto meet him saw the slight figure that crouched against the wallclose by the door they had to enter. And if they had seen it, whatwould they have thought? That the idiot boy was only more freakishthan usual, or was waiting about for the dime which was the usualpay for his services. Neither the clouds, nor the trees, nor thesurrounding darkness would have whispered that an eager woman'sheart beat under that boy's jacket, and that they had better trustthe wind in its sweep, the water in its rush, or the fire in itsravaging, than the will that lay coiled behind the feebly moving lipand wandering, restless eye of the seeming idiot who knelt there. 

"So I was safe and for the moment could hear and see. And this waswhat I saw: A tall and gentlemanly form, carrying a lantern which hetook pains should shine on Mr. Barrows' face and not on his own. Theexpression of the former was, therefore, plain to me, and in it Iread something more than reluctance, something which I dimly felt tobe fear. His anxiety, however, did not seem to spring from hiscompanion, but from the building he was about to enter, for it waswhen he looked up at its frowning walls and shadowy portal that Isaw him shudder and turn pale. They went in, however. Not without aquestion or two from Mr. Barrows as to whom his guide was and wherethe sick man lay, to all of which the other responded shortly orfailed to respond at all, facts which went far to convince me that adeception of some kind was being practised upon the confidingclergyman. 

"I was consequently in a fever of impatience to follow them in, andhad at last made up my mind to do so, when I heard a deep sigh, andglancing up towards the doorway, saw that it was again occupied bythe dark figure which I had so lately seen pass in with Mr. Barrows. He had no lantern now, and I could not even discern the fulloutlines of his form, but his sigh being repeated, I knew who he wasas certainly as if I had seen him, for it was one which had oftenbeen breathed in my ears, and was as well known to me as thebeatings of my own heart. This discovery, as you may believe, MissSterling, did not tend to allay either my curiosity or myimpatience, and when in a few minutes the watcher drew back, I stolefrom my hiding-place, and creeping up to the open doorway, listened. A sound of pacing steps came to my ears. The entrance was guarded. 

"For a moment I stood baffled, then remembering the lantern whichhad been carried into the building, I withdrew quietly from thedoor, and began a tour of inspection round about the mill in thehope of spying some glimmer of light from one or more of the manywindows, and in this way learn the exact spot to which Mr. Barrowshad been taken. It was a task of no mean difficulty, Miss Sterling, for the bushes cluster thick about those walls, and I had no lightto warn me of their whereabouts or of the many loose stones that layin heaps here and there along the way. But I would not have stoppedif firebrands had been under my feet, nor did I cease my exertionsor lose my hope till I reached the back of the mill and found it asdark as the side and front. Then indeed I did begin to despair, forthe place was so solitary and remote from observation, I could notconceive of any better being found for purposes that requiredsecrecy or concealment. Yet the sombre walls rose before me, darkand unrelieved against the sky; and nothing remained for me but topress on to the broad west end and see if that presented asunpromising an aspect as the rest. 

"I accordingly recommenced my toilsome journey, rendered positivelydangerous now by the vicinity of the water and the steepness of thebanks that led down to it. But I did not go far, for as, in myavoidance of the stream, I drew nearer and nearer the walls, Icaught glimpses of what I at first thought to be the flash of afire-fly in the bushes, but in another moment discovered to be thefitful glimmer of a light through a window heavily masked withleaves. You can imagine what followed from what I told you. How Iclimbed the tree, and seated myself on the limb that ran along bythe window, and pushing aside the leaves, looked in upon the scenebelieved by those engaged in it to be as absolutely unwitnessed asif it had taken place in the bowels of the earth. 

"And what did I see there, Miss Sterling? At first little. The lightwithin was so dim and the window itself so high from the floor, thatnothing save a moving shadow or two met my eye. But presentlybecoming accustomed to the position, I discovered first that I waslooking in on a portion of the cellar, and next that three figuresstood before me, two of which I immediately recognized as those ofMr. Barrows and Guy Pollard. But the third stood in shadow, and Idid not know then, nor do I know now, who it was, though I have mysuspicions, incredible as they may seem even to myself. Mr. Barrows, whose face was a study of perplexity, if not horror, seemed to betalking. He was looking Guy Pollard straight in the face when Ifirst saw him, but presently I perceived him turn and fix his eyeson that mysterious third figure which he seemed to study for somesigns of relenting. But evidently without success, for I saw hiseyes droop and his hands fall helplessly to his side as if he feltthat he had exhausted every argument, and that nothing was left tohim but silence. 

"All this, considering the circumstances and the scene, wascertainly startling enough even to one of my nature and history, butwhen in a few minutes later I saw Guy Pollard step forward, andseizing Mr. Barrows by the hand, draw him forward to what seemed tobe the verge of a pit, I own that I felt as if I were seized by somedeadly nightmare, and had to turn myself away and look at the skiesand trees for a moment to make sure I was not the victim of ahallucination. When I looked back they were still standing there, but a change had come over Mr. Barrows' face. From being pale it hadbecome ghastly, and his eyes, fixed and fascinated, were gazing intothose horrid depths, as if he saw there the horrible fate whichafterwards befell him. Suddenly he drew back, covering his face withhis hands, and I saw a look pass from Guy Pollard to that watchfulthird figure, which, if it had not been on the face of a gentleman, I should certainly call demoniacal. The next instant the thirdfigure stepped forward, and before I could move or utter the screamthat rose to my lips, Mr. Barrows had disappeared from view in thehorrid recesses of that black hole, and only Guy Pollard and thatother mysterious one, who I now saw wore a heavy black domino andmask, remained standing on its dark verge. 

"A cry, so smothered that it scarcely came to my ears, rose for aninstant from the pit, then I saw Guy Pollard stoop forward and putwhat seemed to be a question to the victim below. From the natureof the smile that crossed his lip as he drew back, I judged it hadnot been answered satisfactorily; and was made yet more sure of thiswhen the third person, stooping, took up the light, and beckoning toGuy Pollard, began to walk away. Yes, Miss Sterling, I am telling nogoblin tale, as you can see if you will cast your eyes on ourcompanion over there. They walked away, and the light grew dimmerand dimmer and the sense of horror deeper and deeper, till a suddencry, rising shrill enough now from that deadly hole, drew the twoconspirators slowly back to stand again upon its fatal brink, and, as it seemed to me, propound again that question, for answer towhich they appeared ready to barter their honor, if not their souls. 

"And this time they got it. The decisive gesture of the maskedfigure, and the speed with which Guy Pollard disappeared from thespot, testified that the knowledge they wanted was theirs, and thatonly some sort of action remained to be performed. What that actionwas I could not imagine, for, though Mr. Pollard carried away thelantern, the masked figure had remained. 

"Meantime darkness was ours; a terrible darkness, as you mayimagine, Miss Sterling, in which it was impossible not to wait for arepetition of that smothered cry from the depths of this unknownhorror. But it did not come; and amid a silence awful as the grave, the minutes went by till at last, to my great relief, the lightappeared once more in the far recesses of the cellar, and cametwinkling on till it reached the masked figure, which, to allappearance, had not moved hand or foot since it went away. 

"Miss Sterling, you have doubtless consoled yourself during thisnarration with the thought that the evil which I had seen done hadbeen the work of Guy and a person who need not necessarily have beenour friend here. But I must shatter whatever satisfaction you mayhave derived from the possible absence of Dwight Pollard from thisscene, by saying that when the lantern paused and I had theopportunity to see who carried it, I found that it was no longer inthe hand of the younger brother, but had been transferred to thatof Dwight, and that he, not Guy, now stood in the cellar before me. 

"As I realize that we are not alone, I will not dilate upon hisappearance, much as it struck me at the time. I will merely say heoffered a contrast to Guy, who, if I may speak so plainly in thispresence, had seemed much at home in the task he had set himself, uncongenial as one might consider it to the usual instincts andhabits of a gentleman. But Dwight--you see I can be just, MissSterling--looked anxious and out of place; and, instead of seemingto be prepared for the situation, turned and peered anxiously abouthim, as if in search of the clergyman he expected to find standingsomewhere on this spot. His surprise and horror when the maskedfigure pointed to the pit were evident, Miss Sterling; but it was asurprise and a horror that immediately settled into resignation, ifnot apathy; and after his first glance and shuddering start in thatdirection he did not stir again, but stood quite like a statue whilethe masked figure spoke, and when he did move it was to return theway he had come, without a look or a gesture toward the sombre holewhere so much that was manly and kind lay sunk in a darkness thatmust have seemed to that sensitive nature the prototype of hisgrave. "

"And is that all, Miss Colwell?" came with a strange intonation fromDwight Pollard's lips, as she paused, with a triumphant look in mydirection. 

"It is all I have to tell, " was the reply; and it struck me that hertone was as peculiar as his. "Minutes, seconds even, spent undersuch circumstances, seem like hours; and after a spell of whatappeared an interminable waiting, I allowed myself to be overcome bythe disquiet and terror of my situation, and dropping from my perch, crept home. "

"You should have stayed another hour, " he dryly observed. "I wonderat an impatience you had never manifested till then. "

"Do you?"

The meaning with which she said this, the gesture with which shegave it weight, struck us both aback. 

"Woman!" he thundered, coming near to her with the mingled daringand repugnance with which one advances to crush a snake, "do youmean to say that you are going to publish this much of your storyand publish no more? That you will tell the world this and nottell----"

"What I did not see?" she interpolated, looking him straight in theeye as might the serpent to which I have compared her. 

"Good God!" was his horrified exclamation; "and yet you know----"

"Pardon me, " her voice broke in again. "You have heard what I know, "and she bowed with such an inimitable and mocking grace, and yetwith such an air of sinister resolve, that he stood like onefascinated, and let her move away towards the door without seekingby word or look to stop her. "I hold you tight, you see, " were herparting words to him as she paused just upon the threshold to giveus a last and scornful look. "So tight, " she added, shaking herclose-shut hand, "that I doubt if even your life could escape shouldI choose to remember in court what I have remembered before you twohere to-day. "

"And forget----" he began. 

"And forget, " she repeated, "what might defeat the ends of thatjustice which demands a life for the one so wantonly sacrificed inthe vat whose hideous depths now open almost under your feet. " And, having said these words, she turned to go, when, looking up, shefound her passage barred by the dark form of Guy Pollard, who, standing in the doorway with his hands upon either lintel, surveyedher with his saturnine smile, in which for this once I sawsomething that did not make me recoil, certain as I now was of hisinnate villainy and absolute connection with Mr. Barrows' death. 

She herself seemed to feel that she had met her master; for, with ahurried look in his face, she drew slowly back, and, folding herarms, waited for him to move with a patience too nonchalant not tobe forced. 

But he did not seem inclined to move, and I beheld a faint blush asof anger break out on her cheek, though her attitude retained itsair of superb indifference, and her lips, where they closed uponeach other, did not so much as break their lines for an instant. 

"You are not going, Miss Colwell, " were the words with which he atlast broke the almost intolerable suspense of the moment; "at least, not till you have given us the date of this remarkable experience ofyours. "

"The date?" she repeated, icily. "What day was it that Mr. Barrowswas found in the vat?" she inquired, turning to me with anindifferent look. 

His hand fell like iron on her arm. 

"You need not appeal to Miss Sterling, " he remarked. "_I_ amasking you this question, and I am not a man to be balked norfrightened by you when my life itself is at stake. What night was iton which you saw me place Mr. Barrows in the vat? I command you totell me, or----"

His hands closed on her arm, and--she did not scream, but I did; forthe look of the inquisitor was in his face, and I saw that she mustsuccumb, or be broken like a reed before our eyes. 

She chose to succumb. Deadly pale and shaking with the terror withwhich he evidently inspired her, she turned like a wild creaturecaught in the toils, and gasped out:

"It was a night in August--the seventeenth, I think. I wish you andyour brother much joy of the acknowledgment. "

He did not answer, only dropped her arm, and, looking at me, remarked:

"I think that puts a different face upon the matter. "

It did indeed. For Mr. Barrows had only been dead four days, and to-day was the twenty-eight of September. 

 * * * * *

I do not know how long it was before I allowed the wonder andperplexity which this extraordinary disclosure aroused in me toexpress itself in words. The shock which had been communicated to mewas so great, I had neither thought nor feeling left, and it was nottill I perceived every eye fixed upon me that I found the power tosay:

"Then Mr. Barrows' death was not the result of that night's work. The hand that plunged him into the vat drew him out again. But--but----" Here my tongue failed me. I could only look the questionwith which my mind was full. 

Dwight Pollard immediately stepped forward. 

"But whose were the hands that thrust him back four days ago? Thatis what you would ask, is it not, Miss Sterling?" he inquired, witha force and firmness he had not before displayed. 

"Yes, " I endeavored to say, though I doubt if a sound passed mylips. 

His face took a more earnest cast, his voice a still deeper tone. 

"Miss Sterling, " he began, meeting my eye with what might have beenthe bravado of despair, but which I was fain to believe the courageof truth, "after what you have just heard, it would be strange, perhaps, if you should place much belief in any thing we may sayupon this subject. And yet it is my business to declare, and thatwith all the force and assurance of which I am capable, that we knowno more than you, how Mr. Barrows came to find himself again in thatplace; that we had nothing to do with it, and that his death, occurring in the manner and at the spot it did, was a surprise to uswhich cost my mother her life, and me----well, almost my reason, " headded, in a lower tone, turning away his face. 

"Can this be true?" I asked myself, unconsciously taking on an airof determination, as I remembered I was prejudiced in his favor, andwished to believe him innocent of this crime. 

This movement on my part, slight as it was, was evidently seen andmisinterpreted by them all. For a look of disappointment came intoDwight Pollard's face, while from his brother's eye flashed adangerous gleam that almost made me oblivious to the fact thatRhoda. Colwell was speaking words full of meaning and venom. 

"A specious declaration!" she exclaimed. "A jury would believe suchassertions, of course; so would the world at large, It is so easy tocredit that this simple and ordinary method of disposing of avaluable life should enter the mind of another person!"

"It is as easy to credit that, " answered Dwight Pollard, with anemphasis which showed that he, if not I, felt the force of thissarcasm, "as it would be to believe that Mr. Barrows would return toa spot so fraught with hideous memories, except under the influenceof a purpose which made him blind to all but its accomplishment. Thefact that he died _there_, proves to my mind that no other willthan his own plunged him anew into that dreadful vat. "

"Ah! and so you are going to ascribe his death to suicide?" sheinquired, with a curl of her lip that was full of disdain. 

"Yes, " he sternly responded with no signs of wavering now, thoughher looks might well have stung the stoutest soul into some show ofweakness. 

"It is a wise stroke, " she laughed, with indescribable emphasis. "Ithas so much in Mr. Barrows' life and character to back it. And may Iask, " she went on, with a look that included Guy Pollard's silentand contemptuous figure in its scope, "whether you have anything butwords wherewith to impress your belief upon the public? I have heardthat judge and jury like facts, or, at the least, circumstantialproof that a man's denial is a true one. "

"And proofs we have!"

It was Guy Pollard who spoke this time, and with an icy self-possession that made her shiver in spite of herself. 

"Proofs?" she repeated. 

"That we were not near the mill the night before Mr. Barrows wasfound. We were both out of town, and did not return till about thetime the accident was discovered. "

"Ah!" was her single sarcastic rejoinder; but I saw--we all saw--that the blow had told, bravely as she tried to hide it. 

"You, can make nothing by accusing us of this crime, " he continued;"and if I might play the part of a friend to you, I would advise younot to attempt it. " And his cold eye rested for a moment on hersbefore he turned and walked away to the other end of the room. 

The look, the action, was full of contempt, but she did not seem tofeel it. Following him with her gaze for a minute, she murmured, quietly: "We will see"; then turning her look upon Dwight andmyself, added slowly: "I think _you_ are effectually separatedat all events, " and was gone almost without our realizing how orwhere. 

I did not linger long behind. What I said or what they said I cannotremember. I only know that in a few minutes I too was flying alongthe highway, eager for the refuge which my solitary home offered me. Events had rushed upon me too thickly and too fast. I felt ill as Ipassed the threshold of my room, and was barely conscious when a fewhours later the landlady came in to see why I had not made myappearance at the supper-table. 

XIV. 

CORRESPONDENCE. 

 Letters, my Lord. --HAMLET. 

My illness, though severe, was not of long continuance. In a week Iwas able to be about my room; and in a fortnight I was allowed toread the letters that had come to me. There were two, either of themcalculated to awaken dangerous emotions; and, taken together, makinga draft on my powers which my newly gained health found it hard tosustain. The one was signed Rhoda Colwell, and the other DwightPollard. I read Rhoda Colwell's first. 

It opened without preamble:

I sought revenge and I have found it. Not in the way I anticipated, perhaps, but still in a way good enough to satisfy both myself andthe spirit of justice. You will never trust Dwight Pollard again. You will never come any nearer to him than you have to-day. You havean upright soul, and whether you believe his declarations or not, can be safely relied upon to hold yourself aloof from a man whocould lend his countenance to such a cowardly deed as I sawperpetrated in the old cellar a month or so ago. Honor does not wedwith dishonor, nor truth with treachery. Constance Sterling maymarry whom she may; it will never be Dwight Pollard. 

Convinced of this, I have decided to push my vengeance no further. Not that I believe Mr. Barrows committed suicide, any more than Ibelieve that Dwight and Guy Pollard could be saved by any merealibi, if I chose to speak. Men like them can find ready tools to dotheir work, and if they had been an hundred miles away instead ofsome six, I should still think that the will which plunged Mr. Barrows into his dreadful grave was the same which once before hadmade him taste the horrors of his threatened doom. But publicdisgrace and execration are not what I seek for my recreant lover. The inner anguish which no eye can see is what I have been forced toendure and what he shall be made to suffer. Guilty or not he cannever escape that now; and it is a future which I gloat upon andfrom which I would not have him escape, no, not at the cost of hislife, if that life were mine, and I could shorten it at a stroke. 

And yet since human nature is human nature, and good hearts as wellas bad yield sometimes to a fatal weakness, I would add that thefacts which I suppress are always facts, and that if I see in you orhim any forgetfulness of the gulf that separates you, I shall notthink it too late to speak, though months have been added to months, and years to years, and I am no longer any thing but old

RHODA COLWELL. 

Close upon these words I read these others:

MISS STERLING:--Pardon me that I presume to address you. Pardon thefolly, the weakness of a man who, having known you for less than aweek, finds the loss of your esteem the hardest of the many miserieshe is called upon to bear. 

I know that I can never recover this esteem--if, indeed, I everpossessed it. The revelation of the secret which disgraced ourfamily has been fatal; the secret which our mother commanded us onher death-bed to preserve, foreseeing that, if it should becomeknown that we had been guilty of the occurrence of the seventeenthof August, nothing could save us from the suspicion that we wereguilty of the real catastrophe of the twenty-fourth of September. Alas! my mother was a keen woman, but she did not reckon upon RhodaColwell; she did not reckon upon you. She thought if we keptsilence, hell and heaven would find no tongue. But hell and heavenhave both spoken, and we stand suspected of crime, if not absolutelyaccused of it. 

Hard as this is to bear--and it is harder than you might think forone in whom the base and cowardly action into which he was betrayeda month ago has not entirely obliterated the sense of honor--Ineither dare to complain of it nor of the possible consequenceswhich may follow if Rhoda Colwell slights my brother's warning andcarries out her revenge to the full. Deeds of treachery and shamemust bear their natural fruit, and we are but reaping what we sowedon that dreadful night when we allowed David Barrows to taste thehorrors of his future grave. But though I do not complain, I wouldfain say a final word to one whose truth and candor have stood insuch conspicuous relief to my own secrecy and repression. Not in wayof hope, not in way of explanation even. What we have done we havedone, and it would little become me to assign motives and reasonsfor what in your eyes--and, I must now allow, in my own--no motiveor reason can justify or even excuse. I can only place myself beforeyou as one who abhors his own past; regarding it, indeed, with suchremorse and detestation that I would esteem myself blessed if it hadbeen my body, instead of that of Mr. Barrows, which had been drawnfrom the fatal pit. Not that any repentance can rid me of the stainwhich has fallen upon my manhood, or make me worthy of the honor ofyour faintest glance; but it may make me a less debased object inyour eyes, and I would secure that much grace for myself even at theexpense of what many might consider an unnecessary humiliation. Foryou have made upon my mind in the short time I have known you adeep, and, as I earnestly believe, a most lasting and salutaryimpression. Truth, candor, integrity, and a genuine loyalty to allthat is noblest and best in human nature no longer seem to me likemere names since I have met you. The selfishness that makes darkdeeds possible has revealed itself to me in all its hideousdeformity since the light of your pure ideal fell upon it; and whilenaught on earth can restore me to happiness, or even to thatequanimity of mind which my careless boyhood enjoyed, it would stillafford me something like relief to know that you recognize thebeginning of a new life in me, which, if not all you could desire, still has that gleam of light upon it which redeems it from beingwhat it was before I knew you. I will, therefore, ask not a wordfrom you, but a look. If, when I pass your house to-morrow afternoonat six o'clock, I see you standing in the window, I shall know yougrant me the encouragement of your sympathy, a sympathy which willhelp me to endure the worst of all my thoughts, that indirectly, ifnot directly, Guy and myself may be guilty of Mr. Barrows' death;that our action may have given him an impetus to destroy himself, orat least have shown him the way to end his life in a seeminglysecret manner; though why a man so respected and manifestly happy ashe should wish to close his career so suddenly, is as great amystery to me as it can possibly be to you. 

One other word and I am done. If, in the mercy of your gentle andupright nature, you accord me this favor, do not fear that I shalltake advantage of it, even in my thoughts. Nor need you think thatby so doing you may hamper yourself in the performance of a futureduty; since it would be as impossible for me to ask, as for you togrant, the least suppression of the truth on your part; your candorbeing the charm of all others which has most attracted my admirationand secured my regard. 

DWIGHT POLLARD. 

Of the emotions produced in me by these, two letters I will saynothing; I will only mention some of my thoughts. The firstnaturally was, that owing to my illness I had not received thelatter letter till a week after it was written; consequently DwightPollard had failed to obtain the slight token of encouragementwhich he had requested. This was a source of deep regret to me, allthe more that I did not know how to rectify the evil without runningthe risk of rousing suspicion in the breast of Rhoda Colwell. For, unreasonable as it may seem, her words had roused in me a dreadsimilar to that which one might feel of a scorpion in the dark. Idid not know how near she might be to me, or when she might strike. The least stir, the least turn of my head towards the forbiddenobject, might reveal her to be close at my side. I neither daredtrust the silence nor the fact that all seemed well with me atpresent. A woman who could disguise herself as she could, and whomno difficulty deterred from gaining her purpose, was not one tobrave with impunity, however clear might seem the outlook. I felt asif my very thoughts were in danger from her intuition, and scarcelydared breathe my intentions to the walls, lest the treacherousbreeze should carry them to her ears and awaken that formidableantagonism which in her case was barbed with a power which mighteasily make the most daring quail. And yet she must be braved; fornot to save his life could I let such an appeal as he had made me gounanswered; no, though I knew the possibility remained of its beingsimply the offspring of a keen and calculating mind driven to itslast resource. It was enough that I felt him to be true, howevermuch my reason might recognize the possibility of his falsehood. Rather than slight a noble spirit struggling with a great distress, I would incur any penalty which a possible lapse of judgment mightbring; my temperament being such that I found less shame in thethought that I might be deceived, than that, out of a spirit of toogreat caution and self-love, I should fail an unhappy soul at themoment when my sympathy might be of inestimable benefit to itswelfare. 

The venomous threats and extreme show of power displayed in RhodaColwell's letter had overreached themselves. They roused my pride. They made me question whether it was necessary for us to live undersuch a dominion of suspense as she had prepared for us. If DwightPollard's asseverations were true, it would be a cruel waste ofpeace and happiness for him or me to rest under such a subjection, when by a little bravery at the outset her hold upon us might beannihilated and her potency destroyed. 

The emotions which I have agreed to ignore came in to give weight tothis thought. To save myself it was necessary to prove DwightPollard true. Not only my sense of justice, but the very life andsoul of my being, demanded the settling of all suspicion and theestablishment of my trust upon a sure foundation. While a singledoubt remained in my mind I was liable to shame before my best self, and shame and Constance Sterling did not mix easily or well, especially with that leaven of self-interest added, to which I havealluded only a few paragraphs back. 

But how, with my lack of resources and the apparent dearth of allmeans for attaining the end I had in view, I was to prove RhodaColwell's insinuations false, and Dwight Pollard's assertion true, was a question to which an answer did not come with verysatisfactory readiness. Even the simple query as to how I was toexplain my late neglect to Dwight Pollard occasioned me an hour ofanxious thought; and it was not till I remembered that the simplestcourse was always the best, and that with a snake in the grass likeRhoda Colwell, the most fearless foot trod with the greatest safety, that I felt my difficulties on that score melt away. I would writeto Dwight Pollard, and I would tell Rhoda Colwell I had done so, thus proving to her that I meditated nothing underhanded, and couldbe trusted to say what I would do, and do what I should say. 

This decision taken, I sat down immediately and penned the followingtwo notes:

MISS RHODA COLWELL:--Owing to illness, your letter has just beenread by me. To it I will simply reply that you are right inbelieving my regard could never be given to a guilty man. As long asthe faintest doubt of Mr. Pollard remains in my mind we are indeedseparated by a gulf. But let that doubt in any way be removed, and Isay to you frankly that nothing you could threaten or the worldperform, would prevent my yielding to him the fullest sympathy andthe most hearty encouragement. 

I send him to-day, in the same mail which carries this, a few lines, a copy of which I inclose for your perusal. 

Yours, CONSTANCE STERLING. 

MR. DWIGHT POLLARD:--For two weeks I have been too ill to cross myroom, which must account both for this note and the tardiness I havedisplayed in writing it. 

You assert that you know nothing of the causes or manner of acertain catastrophe. I believe you, and hope some day to have morethan a belief, viz. , a surety of its truth founded on absoluteevidence. 

Till that time comes we go our several ways, secure in the thoughtthat to the steadfast mind calumny itself loses its sting when metby an earnest purpose to be and do only what is honest and upright. 

CONSTANCE STERLING. 

If you have any further communication to make to me, let me requestthat it be allowed to pass through the hands of Miss Colwell. Myreasons for this are well founded. 

XV. 

A GOSSIP. 

 This something settled matter in his heart, Whereon his brains still beating, puts him thus From fashion of himself. --HAMLET. 

I had not taken this tone with both my correspondents without asecret hope of being able to do something myself towards theestablishment of Mr. Pollard's innocence. How, I could not veryplainly perceive that day or the next, but as time elapsed and mybrain cleared and my judgment returned, I at last saw the way to aneffort which might not be without consequences of a satisfactorynature. What that effort was you may perhaps conjecture from thefact that the first walk that I took was in the direction of thecottage where Mr. Barrows had formerly lived. The rooms which he hadoccupied were for rent, and my ostensible errand was to hire them. The real motive of my visit, however, was to learn something more ofthe deceased clergyman's life and ways than I then knew; if happilyout of some hitherto unnoticed event in his late history I mightreceive a hint which should ultimately lead me to the solution ofthe mystery which was involving my happiness. 

I was not as unsuccessful in this attempt as one might anticipate. The lady of the house was a gossip, and the subject of Mr. Barrows'death was an inexhaustible topic of interest to her. I had but tomention his name, and straightway a tide of words flowed from herlips, which, if mostly words, contained here and there intimationsof certain facts which I felt it was well enough for me to know, even if they did not amount to any thing like an explanation of thetragedy. Among these was one which only my fear of showing myselftoo much interested in her theme prevented me from probing to thebottom. This was, that for a month at least before his death Mr. Barrows had seemed to her like a changed man. A month--that wasabout the interval which had elapsed between his first visit to themill and his last; and the evidence that he showed an alteration ofdemeanor in that time might have its value and might hot. I resolvedto cultivate Mrs. Simpson's acquaintance, and sometime put her aquestion or two that would satisfy me upon this point. 

This determination was all the easier to make in that I found therooms I had come to see sufficiently to my liking to warrant me intaking them. Not that I should have hesitated to do this had theybeen as unattractive as they were pleasant. It was not theiragreeableness that won me, but the fact that Mr. Barrows personalbelongings had not yet been moved, and that for a short time atleast I should find myself in possession of his library, and face toface with the same articles of taste and study which had surroundedhim in his lifetime, and helped to mould, if not to make, the man. Ishould thus obtain a knowledge of his character, and some day, whoknows, might flash upon his secret. For that he possessed one, andwas by no means the plain and simple character I had been led tobelieve was apparent to me from the first glimpse I had of theserooms; there being in every little object that marked his taste acertain individuality and purpose that betrayed a stern and mysticsoul; one that could hide itself, perhaps, beneath a practicalexterior, but which, in ways like this, must speak, and speak loudlytoo, of its own inward promptings and tendency. 

The evening when I first brought these objects under a close andconscientious scrutiny, was a memorable one to me. I had moved inearly that day, and with a woman's unreasoning caprice had forborneto cast more than the most cursory glance around, being content tosee that all was as I left it at my first visit, and that neitherdesk nor library had been disturbed. But when supper was over, and Icould set myself with a free mind to a contemplation of my newsurroundings, I found that my curiosity could no longer delay thecareful tour of inspection to which I felt myself invited by thefreshness and beauty of the pictures, and one or two of thestatuettes which adorned the walls about me. One painting inespecial attracted me, and made me choose for my first contemplationthat side of the room on which it hung. It was a copy of some Frenchpainting, and represented the temptation of a certain saint. Acurious choice of subject, you may think, to adorn a Protestantclergyman's wall, but if you could have seen it, and marked theextreme expression of mortal struggle on the face of the temptedone, who, with eyes shut, and hands clutching till it bent the crossof twigs stuck in the crevices of the rocks beneath which hewrithed, waited for the victory over self that was just beginningto cast its light upon his brow, you would have felt that it wasgood to hang before the eyes of any one in whom conflict of any kindwas waging. Upon me the effect was instantaneous, and so real that Ihave never been able to think of that moment without a sense of aweand rending of the heart. Human passion assumed a new significancein my mind, and the will and faith of a strong man suffering fromits power, yet withstanding it to the very last gasp by the help ofhis trust in God, rose to such an exalted position in my mind, thatI felt then, as I feel now whenever I remember this picture, that mywhole moral nature had received, from its contemplation, an impetustowards religion and self-denial. While I was still absorbed ingazing at it, my landlady entered the room, and seeing me posedbefore the picture, quite sympathizingly exclaimed:

"Isn't that a dreadful painting, Miss Sterling, to have in anyone's room? I don't wonder Mr. Barrows wanted to cover it up. "

"Cover it up?" I repeated, turning hastily in my surprise. 

"Yes, " she replied, going to a drawer in his desk and taking out asmall engraving, which she brought me. "For nearly a month beforehis death he had this picture stuck up over the other with pins. Youcan see the pin-holes now, if you look; they went right through thecanvas. I thought it a very sensible thing to do, myself; but when Ispoke of it to him one day, remarking that I had always thought thepicture unfit for any one to see, he gave me such a look that Ithought then he must be crazy. But no one else saw any thing amissin him, and, as I did not want to lose a good lodger, I let him stayon, though my mind did sometimes misgive me. "

The engraving she had handed me was almost as suggestive as thepainting it had been used to conceal; but at this remarkablestatement front Mrs. Simpson's lips I laid it quickly down. 

"You think he was crazy?" I asked. 

"I think he committed suicide, " she affirmed. 

I turned to the engraving again, and took it up. What a change hadcome over me that a statement against which I had once so honestlyrebelled for Ada's sake should now arouse something like a sensationof joy in my breast!

Mrs. Simpson, too much interested in her theme to notice me, wentconfidently on. 

"You see, folks that live in the same house with a person, learn toknow them as other folks can't. Not that Mr. Barrows ever talked tome; he was a deal too much absorbed in his studies for that; but heate at my table, and went in and out of my front door, and if awoman cannot learn something about a man under those circumstances, then she is no good, that is all I have got to say about her. "

I was amused and slightly smiled, but she needed no encouragement toproceed. 

"The way he would drop into a brown study over his meat and potatoeswas a caution to my mind. A minister that don't eat is--ananomaly, " she burst out. "I have boarded them before, and I knowthey like the good things of life as well as anybody. But Mr. Barrows, latterly at least, never seemed to see what was on thetable before him, but ate because his plate of food was there, andhad to be disposed of in some way. One day, I remember inparticular, I had baked dumplings, for he used to be very fond ofthem, and would eat two without any urging; but this day he eitherdid not put enough sauce on them, or else his whole appetite hadchanged; for he suddenly looked down at his plate and shuddered, almost as if he were in a chill, and, getting up, was going away, when I summoned up courage to ask if the dumplings were not as goodas usual. He turned at the door--I can see him now, --andmechanically shaking his head, seemed to be trying to utter someapology. But he presently stopped in that attempt, and, pointingquickly at the table, said, in his accustomed tones: 'You need notmake me any more desserts, Mrs. Simpson, I shall not indulge in themin the future'; and went out, without saying whether he was sick orwhat. And that was the end of the dumplings, and of many a goodthing besides. "

"And is that all--" I began; but she broke in before the words werehalf out of my mouth. 

"But the strangest thing I ever see in him was this: I have not saidmuch about it, for the people that went to his church are a high andmighty lot, and wouldn't bear a word said against his sanity, evenby one as had more opportunities than they of knowing him. But youare a stranger in town, and can't have no such foolish touchinessabout a person that is nothing to you, so I will just tell you allabout it. You see, when he had visitors--and off and on a good manycame--I used to seat them in the parlor below, till I was sure hewas ready to receive them. This had happened one evening, and I hadgone up to his door to notify him that a stranger was down-stairs, when I heard such a peculiar noise issuing from his room, that Ijust stood stock-still on the door-mat to listen. It was a swishingsound, followed by a--Miss Sterling, " she suddenly broke in, in ahalf awe-struck, half-frightened tone, "did you ever _hear_ anyone whipped? If you have, you will know why I stood shuddering atthat door full two minutes before I dared lift my hand and knock. Not that I could believe Mr. Barrows was whipping any body, but thesound was so like it, and I was so certain besides that I had heardsomething like a smothered cry follow it, that nothing short of themost imperative necessity would have given me the courage to callhim; my imagination filling the room with all sorts of frightfulimages; images that did not fade away in a hurry, " she went on, with a look of shrinking terror about her which I am not sure wasnot reflected in my own face, "when, after the longest waiting Iever had at his door, he slowly came across the room and opened it, showing me a face as white as a sheet, and a hand that trembled sothat he dropped the card I gave him and had to pick it up. Had therebeen a child there----"

"But there wasn't!" I interrupted, shocked and forced to defend himin spite of myself. 

"No, nor anybody else. For when he went down-stairs, I looked in andthere was no one there, and nothing uncommon about the room, exceptthat I thought his bookcase looked as if it had been moved. And ithad; for next day when I swept this room--it did not need sweeping, but one can't wait for ever to satisfy their curiosity--I justlooked behind that case, and what do you think I found? A strap--aregular leather strap--just such as----"

"Good God!" I interrupted; "you do not think he had been using itwhen you went to the door?"

"I do, " she said. "I think he had a fit of something like insanityupon him, and had been swinging that strap----Well, I will not sayagainst what, for I do not know, but might it not have been againstthe fiends and goblins with which crazy people sometimes imaginethey are surrounded?"

"Possibly, " I acquiesced, though my tone could not have been one ofany strong conviction. 

"Insane persons sometimes do strange things, " she continued; "andthat he did not show himself violent before folks is no sign he didnot let himself out sometimes when he was alone. The very fact thathe restrained himself when he went into the pulpit and visitedamong his friends, may have made him wilder when he got all byhimself. I am sure I remember having heard of a case where a manlived for ten years in a town without a single neighbor suspectinghim of insanity; yet his wife suffered constantly from his freaks, and finally fell a victim to his violence. "

"But Mr. Barrows was such a brilliant man, " I objected. "His sermonsup to the last were models of eloquence. "

"Oh, he could preach, " she assented. 

Seeing that she was not to be moved in her convictions, I venturedupon a few questions. 

"Have you ever thought, " I asked, "what it was that created such achange in him? You say you noticed it for a month before his death;could any thing have happened to disturb him at that time?"

"Not that I know of, " she answered, with great readiness. "I wasaway for a week in August, and it was when I first came back that Iobserved how different he was from what he had been before. Ithought at first it was the hot weather, but heat don't make onerestless and unfit to sit quiet in one's chair. Nor does it drive aman to work as if the very evil one was in him, keeping the lightburning sometimes till two in the morning, while he wrote andwalked, and walked and wrote, till I thought my head would burstwith sympathy for him. "

"He was finishing a book, was he not? I think I have heard he left acompleted manuscript behind him?"

"Yes; and don't you think it very singular that the last word shouldhave been written, and the whole parcel done up and sent away to hispublisher, two days before his death, if he did not know what wasgoing to happen to him?"

"And was it?" I inquired. 

"Yes, it was; for I was in the room when he signed his name to it, and heard his sigh of relief, and saw him, too, when, a little whileafterwards, he took the bundle out to the post-office. I rememberthinking, 'Well, now for some rest nights!' little imagining whatrest was in store for him, poor soul!"

"Did you know that Mr. Barrows was engaged?" I suddenly asked, unable to restrain my impatience any longer. 

"No, I did not, " she rather sharply replied, as if her lack ofknowledge on that subject had been rather a sore point with her. "Imay have suspected there was some one he was interested in, but I amsure nobody ever imagined her as being the one. Poor girl, she musthave thought a heap of him to die in that way. "

She looked at me as she said this, anticipating, perhaps, a returnof the confidences she had made me. But I could not talk of Ada toher, and after a moment of silent waiting she went eagerly on. 

"Perhaps a lover's quarrel lay at the bottom of the whole matter, "she suggested. "Miss Reynolds was a sweet girl and loved him verydevotedly, of course; but they might have had a tiff for all that, and in a nature as sensitive as his, the least thing will sometimesunhinge the mind. "

But I could only shake my head at this; the supposition was at oncetoo painful and absurd. 

"Well, well, " the garrulous woman went on, in no wise abashed, "there are some things that come easy and some things that comehard. Why Mr. Barrows went the way he did is one of the hard thingsto understand, but that he did go, and that of his own frenziedwill, I am as sure as that two and two make four, and four from fourleaves nothing. "

I thought of all the others who secretly or openly expressed thesame opinion, and felt my heart grow lighter. Then I thought ofRhoda Colwell, and then----

"Just what time was it, " I asked, "when you were away in August? Wasit before the seventeenth, or after? I inquire, because----"

But evidently she did not care why I inquired. 

"It was during that week, " she broke in. "I remember because it wason the sixteenth that Mr. Pollard died, and I was not here to attendthe funeral. I came back----"

But it was no matter to me now when she came back. She had not beenat home the night when Mr. Barrows was beguiled into his first visitto the mill, and she had mentioned a name I had long been eager tohave introduced into the conversation. 

"You knew Mr. Pollard?" I therefore interposed without ceremony. "Hewas a very rich man, was he not?"

"Yes, " she assented. "I suppose the children will have the wholeproperty, now that the old lady is gone. I hope Mr. Harrington willbe satisfied. He just married that girl for her money. That, I amsure, you will hear everybody say. "

"Yet she is exceedingly pretty, " I suggested. 

"Oh, yes, too pretty; she makes one think of a wax doll. But theseEnglish lords don't care for beauty without there is a deal of hardcash to back it, and if Agnes Pollard had been as poor as--whatother beauty have we in town?"

"There is a girl called Rhoda Colwell, " I ventured. 

"Rhoda Colwell! Do you call her a beauty? I know some folks thinkshe is--well, then, let us say as Rhoda Colwell, he would have madeher any proposal sooner than that of his hand. "

"And is Mr. Harrington a lord?" I asked, feeling that I was lightingupon some very strange truths. 

"He is the next heir to one. A nephew I believe, or else a cousin. Icannot keep track of all those fine distinctions in people I neversaw. "

"They were married privately and right after Mr. Pollard's death, Ihave heard. "

"Yes, and for no other earthly reason that one ever heard of than tohave it settled and done; for Mr. Harrington did not take away hiswife from the country; nor does he intend to as far as I can learn. Everybody thought it a very strange proceeding, and none toorespectful to Mr. Pollard's memory either. "

I thought of all I had heard and seen in that house, and wondered. 

"Mr. Pollard was such a nice man, too, " she pursued, in a musingtone. "Not a commanding person, like his wife, but so good and kindand attentive to poor folks like me. I never liked a man more than Idid Mr. Pollard, and I have always thought that if he had had adifferent kind of mother for his children--but what is the use ofcriticising the poor woman now. She is dead and so is he, and thechildren will do very well now with all that money to back them inany caprice they may have. "

"You seem to know them well, " I remarked, fearful she would observethe emotion I could not quite keep out of my face. 

"No, " she returned, with an assumption of grimness, which wasevidently meant for sarcasm, "not well. Every one knows thePollards, but I never heard any one say they knew them well. "

"Didn't Mr. Barrows?" I tremblingly inquired, anxious for her reply, yet fearful of connecting those two names. 

"Not that I ever saw, " she returned, showing no special interest inthe question, or in the fact that it was seemingly of someimportance to me. 

"Didn't they use to come here to see him?" I proceeded, emboldenedby her evident lack of perspicuity. "None of them?" I added, seeingher about to shake her head. 

"Oh, Dwight or Guy would come here if they had any business withhim, " she allowed. "But that isn't intimacy; the Pollards areintimate with nobody. "

She seemed to be rather proud of it, and as I did not see my wayjust then to acquire any further information, I sank with a wearyair into a chair, turning the conversation as I did so upon otherand totally irrelevant topics. But no topic was of much interest toher, that did not in some way involve Mr. Barrows; and after a fewminutes of desultory chat, she pleaded the excuse of business andhurriedly left the room. 

XVI. 

THE GREEN ENVELOPE. 

 Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n, Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter. --OTHELLO. 

Her departure was a relief to me. First, because I had heard somuch, I wanted an opportunity of digesting it; and, secondly, because of my interest in the engraving she had shown me, and theimpatience I felt to study it more closely. I took it up the momentshe closed the door. 

It was the picture of a martyr, and had evidently been cut from somegood-sized book. It represented a man clothed in a long whitegarment, standing with his back to the stake, and his hand held outto the flames, which were slowly consuming it. As a work of art, itwas ordinary; as the illustration of some mighty fact, it was fullof suggestion. I gazed at it for a long time, and then turned to thebookcase. Was the book from which it had been taken there? I eagerlyhoped so. For, ignorant as I may seem to you, I did not know thepicture or the incident it represented; and I was anxious to knowboth. For Mr. Barrows was not the man to disfigure a work of art bycovering it with a coarse print like this unless he had a motive;and how could even a suspicion of that motive be mine, without afull knowledge of just what this picture implied?

But though I looked from end to end of the various shelves beforeme, I did not succeed in finding the volume from which thisengraving had been taken. Large books were there in plenty, but noneof the exact size of the print I held in my hand. I own I wasdisappointed, and turned away from the bookcase at last with afeeling of having been baffled on the verge of some very interestingdiscovery. 

The theory advanced with so much assurance by Mrs. Simpson had notmet with much credence on my part. I believed her facts, but not theconclusions she drew from them. Nothing she had related to meconvinced me that Mr. Barrows was in any way insane; nor could Iimagine for a moment that he could be so without the knowledge ofAda, if not of his associates and friends. 

At the same time I was becoming more and more assured in my own mindthat his death was the result of his own act, and, had it not beenfor the difficulty of imagining a reason for it, could have retiredto rest that night with a feeling of real security in the justnessof a conclusion that so exonerated the man I loved. As it was, thatsecret doubt still remained like a cloud over my hopes, a doubtwhich I had promised myself should be entirely removed before Iallowed my partiality for Mr. Pollard to take upon itself thecharacter of partisanship. I therefore continued my explorationsthrough the room. 

Mr. Barrows' desk presented to me the greatest attraction of anything there; one that was entirely of the imagination, of course, since nothing could have induced me to open it, notwithstandingevery key stood in its lock, and one of the drawers was pulled alittle way out. Only the law had a right to violate his papers; andhard as it was to deny myself a search into what was possibly thetruest exponent of his character, I resolutely did so, consolingmyself with the thought that if any open explanation of his secrethad been in these drawers, it would have been produced at theinquest. 

As for his books, I felt no such scruples. But then, what could hisbooks tell me? Nothing, save that he was a wide student and lovedthe delicate and imaginative in literature. Besides, I had glancedat many of the volumes, in my search after the one which had heldthe engraving. Yet I did pause a minute and run my eye along theshelves, vaguely conscious, perhaps, that often in the most out-of-the-way corners lurks the secret object for which we are socarefully seeking. But I saw nothing to detain me, and after onebrief glance at a strong and spirited statuette that adorned the topshelf, I hurried on to a small table upon which I thought I saw aphotographic album. 

I was not mistaken; and it was with considerable interest I took itup and began to run over its pages in search for that picture of Adawhich I felt ought to be there. And which was there; but which Iscarcely looked at twice, so much was my attention attracted by anenvelope that fell out from between the leaves as I turned themeagerly over. That envelope, with its simple direction, "Miss AdaReynolds, Monroe Street, S----, " made an era in my history. For I nosooner perceived it than I felt confident of having seen it or itslike before; and presently, with almost the force of an electricshock, I recollected the letter which I had brought Ada theafternoon of the day she died, and which, as my startled consciencenow told me, had not only never been given her, but had not been somuch as seen by me since, though all her belongings had passed intomy hands, and the table where I had flung it had been emptied of itscontents more than once. That letter and this empty envelope were, in style, handwriting, and direction, _facsimiles_. It had, therefore, come from Mr. Barrows; a most significant fact, and onewhich I had no sooner realized than I was seized by the most intenseexcitement, and might have done some wild and foolish thing, had notthe lateness of the hour restrained me, and kept my passionate hopesand fears within their proper bounds. As it was, I found myselfobliged to take several turns up and down the room, and even toopen the window for a breath of fresh air, before I could face thesubject with any calmness, or ask myself what had become of thisletter, with any hope of receiving a rational reply. 

That in the startling and tragic events of that day it had beenoverlooked and forgotten, I did not wonder. But that it should haveescaped my notice afterwards, or if mine, that of the landlady whotook charge of the room in my absence, was what I could notunderstand. As far as I could remember, I left the letter lying inplain view on the table. Why, then, had not some one seen andproduced it? Could it be that some one more interested than I knewhad stolen it? Or was the landlady of my former home alone to blamefor its being lost or mislaid?

Had it been daylight I should have at once gone down to my formerboarding-place to inquire; but as it was ten o'clock at night, Icould only satisfy my impatience by going carefully over theincidents of that memorable day, in the hope of rousing some memorywhich would lead to an elucidation of this new mystery. First, then, I distinctly recollected receiving the letter from thepostman. I had met him at the foot of the steps as I came home frommy unsuccessful search for employment, and he had handed me theletter, simply saying: "For Miss Reynolds. " I scarcely looked at it, certainly gave it no thought, for we had been together but a week, and I had as yet taken no interest in her concerns. So mechanical, indeed, had been my whole action in the matter, that I doubt if thesight of Mr. Barrows' writing alone, even though it had been used intranscribing her name, would have served to recall the incident tomy mind. But the shade of the envelope--it was of a peculiargreenish tint--gave that unconscious spur to the memory which wasneeded to bring back the very look of the writing which had been onthe letter I had so carelessly handled; and I found, as others havefound before me, that there is no real forgetfulness in this world;that the most superficial glance may serve to imprint images uponthe mind, which only await time and occasion to reappear before uswith startling distinctness. 

My entrance into my own room, my finding it empty, and theconsequent flinging of the letter down on the table, all came backto me with the utmost clearness; even the fact that the letterfell face downwards and that I did not stop to turn it over. Butbeyond that all was blank to me up to the moment when I foundmyself confronting Ada standing with her hand on her heart in thatsudden spasm of pain which had been the too sure precursor of herrapidly approaching doom. 

But wait! Where was I standing when I first became conscious of herpresence in the room? Why, in the window, of course. I rememberednow just how hot the afternoon sun looked to me as I stared at thewhite walls of the cottage over the way. And she--where was she?--between me and the table? Yes! She had, therefore, passed by theletter, and might have picked it up, might even have opened it, andread it before the spell of my revery was broken, and I turned tofind her standing there before my eyes. Her pallor, the evidentdistress under which she was laboring, even the sudden pain whichhad attacked her heart, might thus be accounted for, and what I hadalways supposed to be a purely physical attack prove to be theresult of a mental and moral shock. But, no. Had she opened and readthe letter it would have been found there; or if not there, at leastupon her person after death. Besides, her whole conduct between themoment I faced her and that of the alarm in the street belowprecluded the idea that any thing of importance to her and her lovehad occurred to break her faith in the future and the man to whosecare she was pledged. Could I not remember the happy smile whichaccompanied her offer of assistance and home to me? And was thereany thing but hope and trust in the tone with which she haddesignated her lover as being the best and noblest man in town? No;if she had read his communication and afterwards disposed of it insome way I did not observe, then it was not of the nature Isuspected; but an ordinary letter, similar in character to othersshe had received, foretelling nothing, and only valuable in theelucidation of the mystery before me from the fact of its offeringproof presumptive that he did not anticipate death, or at all eventsdid not meditate it. 

An important enough fact to establish, certainly; but it was notthe fact in which I had come to believe, and so I found it difficultto give it a place in my mind, or even to entertain the possibilityof Ada's having seen the letter at all. I preferred rather toindulge in all sorts of wild conjectures, having the landlady, theservant, even Dr. Farnham, at their base; and it was not till I wasvisited by some mad thought of Rhoda Colwell's possible connivancein the disappearance of this important bit of evidence, that Irealized the enormity of my selfish folly, and endeavored to put anend to its further indulgence by preparing stoically for bed. 

But sleep, which would have been so welcome, did not come; and aftera long and weary night, I arose in any thing but a refreshed state, to meet the exigencies of what might possibly prove to be a mostimportant day. 

The first thing to be done was undoubtedly to visit my old home andinterview its landlady. If nothing came of that, to hunt up thenurse, Mrs. Gannon, whom, as you will remember, I had left in chargeof my poor Ada's remains when sudden duty in the shape of Dr. Farnham carried me away to the bedside of Mrs. Pollard; and if thisalso came to naught, to burst the bonds of secrecy which I hadmaintained, and by taking this same Dr. Farnham into my confidenceobtain at least an adviser who would relieve me, if only partially, from the weight of responsibility, which I now felt to be pressingrather too heavily upon my strength. 

But though I carried out this programme as far as seeking for andprocuring an interview with Mrs. Gannon at her place of nursing, Idid not succeed in obtaining the least clew to the fate of thismysteriously lost letter. Neither of the women mentioned had seenit, nor was it really believed by them to have been on the tablewhen they arranged the room after my Ada's peaceful death. Yet evento this they could not swear, nor would the landlady admit but thatit might still have been lying there when they came to carry Adaaway, though she would say that it could not have been anywhere inview the next day, for she had thoroughly cleaned and tidied up theroom herself, and as in doing this she had been obliged to shiftevery article off the table on to the bed and back again, she mustnot only have seen, but handled the letter twice; and this she wasmorally certain she did not do. 

I was therefore in as great perplexity as ever, and was seriouslymeditating a visit to Dr. Farnham, when I bethought me of making onefinal experiment before resorting to this last and not altogetherwelcome alternative. 

This was to examine every thing which had been on the table, in thehope of discovering in some out-of-the-way receptacle the missingletter for which I had such need. To be sure it was an effort thatpromised little, there having been but few articles on the tablecapable of concealing even such a small object as this I was insearch of; but when one is at their wits' ends, they do not stop todiscuss probabilities, or even to weigh in too nice a scale theprospect of success. 

Recalling, therefore, just what had been on the table, I went to thetrunk in which these articles were packed, and laid them out one byone on the floor. They were as follows: A work-basket of Ada's; abox of writing-paper; a copy of _Harper's Magazine_; an atlas;and two volumes of poetry, one belonging to Ada and one to me. 

A single glance into the work-basket was sufficient, also into thebox of stationery. But the atlas was well shaken, and the magazinecarefully looked through, before I decided it was not in them. Asfor the two books of poetry, I disdained them so completely, I wasabout to toss them back unopened, when there came upon me adisposition to be thorough, and I looked at them both, only to findsnugly ensconced in my own little copy of Mrs. Browning the long-sought and despaired-of letter, with its tell-tale green envelopeunbroken, and its contents, in so far as I could see, unviolated andundisturbed. 

XVII. 

DAVID BARROWS. 

 "I have lived long enough. " --MACBETH. 

Before I proceeded to open this letter, I reasoned some time withmyself. The will by which I had come into possession of Ada'seffects was, as I knew, informal and possibly illegal. But it wasthe expression of her wishes, and there had been no one to disputethem or question my right to the inheritance she had so innocentlybequeathed me. At the same time I felt a hesitation about openingthis letter, as I had about using her money; and it was not till Iremembered the trust she had reposed in me, and the promise I hadgiven her to support Mr. Barrows' good name before the world, that Isummoned up sufficient determination to break its seal. My duty onceclear to me, however, I no longer hesitated. This is the result:

_September_ 23d. --_Evening_. 

My Beloved Ada:--Could I by any means mitigate the blow which I amforced to deal you, believe me it should be done. But no words canprepare you for the terrible fact I am about to reveal, and I thinkfrom what I know of you, and of your delicate but strong soul, thatin a matter of life and death like this the most direct language iswhat you would choose me to employ. 

Know then, dearest of all women, that a duty I dare not fly fromcondemns me to death; that the love we have cherished, the hopes inwhich we have indulged, can have no fulfilment in this world, butmust be yielded as a sacrifice to the inexorable claim of conscienceand that ideal of right which has been mine since I took upon myselfthe lofty vocation of a Christian minister. 

You, my people, my own self even, have thought me an honest man. Godknows I meant to be, even to the point of requiring nothing fromothers I was not willing to give myself. But our best friends do notknow us; we do not know ourselves. When the hour of trial came, anda sudden call was made upon my faith and honor, I failed to sustainmyself, failed ignominiously, showing myself to be no stronger thanthe weakest of my flock--ay, than the child that flies before ashadow because it is black, and he does not or will not see that itis his father's form that casts it. 

Such lapses on the part of men professing to lead others demandheavy penalties. I feared to lose my life, therefore my life mustgo. Nothing short of this would reinstate me in my own eyes, or giveto my repentance that stern and absolute quality which the nature ofmy sin imperatively demands. 

That I must involve you in my sorrow and destruction is thebitterest drop in my cup. But dainty and flower-like as you are, youhave a great nature, and would not hold me back from an actnecessary to the welfare and honor of my eternal soul. I see yourather urging me on, giving me your last kiss, and smiling upon mewith your own inspiring smile. So sure am I of this, that I can bearnot to see you again; bear to walk for the last time by your house, leaving only my blessing in the air. For it is a part of my doomthat I may not see you; since, were I to find myself in yourpresence, I could scarcely forbear telling you whither I was going, and that no man must know till all has been accomplished. 

I go, then, without other farewell than these poor words can giveyou. Be strong, and bear my loss as many a noble woman before youhas borne the wreck of all her hopes. When I am found--as some day Ishall be--tell my people I died in the Christian faith, and for thesimple reason that my honor as a man and a minister demanded it. Ifthey love me they will take my word for it; but if questions shouldarise, and a fuller knowledge of my fate and the reasons which ledme to such an act should in your judgment seem to be required, thengo to my desk, and, in a secret drawer let into the back, you willfind a detailed confession which will answer every inquiry and setstraight any false or unworthy suspicions that may arise. 

But heed these words and mark them well: Till such a need shouldarise, the manuscript is to be kept inviolate even from you; and nomatter what the seeming need, or by what love or anxiety you may bedriven, touch not that desk nor drawer till ten days have elapsed, or I shall think you love my body more than me, and the enjoymentof temporal comfort to the eternal weight of glory which is laid upfor those who hold out steadfast to the end. 

And now, my dear, my dear, with all the affection of my poor, weak, erring heart, I hold out arms of love towards you. Farewell for ashort space. When we meet again may it be on equal terms once more, the heavy sin blotted out, the grievous wrong expiated. 

Till then, God bless you. 

DAVID. 

Do not wonder at my revealing nothing of this in our lateinterviews. You were so happy, I dared not drop a shadow one daysooner than was necessary into your young life. Besides, my strugglewas dark and secret, and could brook no eye upon it save that of theeternal God. 

XVIII. 

A LAST REQUEST. 

 'T is she That tempers him to this extremity. --Richard III. 

The night had fallen. I was in a strange and awe-struck mood. Themanuscript, which after some difficulty I had succeeded in finding, lay before, me unopened. A feeling as of an invisible presence wasin the air. I hesitated to turn the page, written, as I alreadyfelt, with the life-blood of the man in whose mysterious doom thehappiness of my own life had become entangled. 

Waiting for courage, I glanced mechanically about the room. Howstrangely I had been led in this affair! How from the first I seemedto have been picked out and appointed for the solving of thismystery, till now I sat in the very room, at the very desk, in frontof the very words, of its victim. I thought of Dwight Pollardstruggling with his fate, and unconscious that in a few minutes thesecret of Mr. Barrows' death would be known; of Rhoda Colwell, confident of her revenge and blind to the fact that I held in myhand what might possibly blunt her sharpest weapon, and make hermost vindictive effort useless. Then each and every consideration ofa purely personal nature vanished, and I thought only of the grandand tortured soul of him upon whose solemn and awesome history I wasabout to enter. Was it, as his letter seemed to imply, a martyr'sstory? I looked at the engraving of Cranmer, which had been a puzzleto me a few days before, and understanding it now, gatheredfortitude by what it seemed to suggest, and hastily unrolled themanuscript. 

This is what I read:

"_He that would save his life shall lose it. _"

In order that the following tale of sin and its expiation may beunderstood, I must give a few words to the motives and hopes underwhich I entered the ministry. 

I am a believer in the sacred character of my profession, and theabsolute and unqualified devotion of those embracing it to the aimsand purposes of the Christian religion. Though converted, as it iscalled, in my sixteenth year, I cannot remember the time my pulsedid not beat with appreciation for those noble souls who hadsacrificed every joy and comfort of this temporal life for the sakeof their faith and the glory of God. I delighted in Fox's "Book ofMartyrs, " and while I shuddered over its pages in a horror I did notwholly understand, I read them again and again, till there was not asaint whose life I did not know by heart, with just the death hedied and the pangs he experienced. Such a mania did this become withme at one time, that I grew visibly ill, and had to have the booktaken away from me and more cheerful reading substituted in itsstead. 

Feeling thus strongly in childhood, when half, if not all, myinterest sprang from the fascination which horrors have upon theimpressible mind, what were my emotions and longings when the realmeaning of the Christian life was revealed to me, and I saw in thissteadfastness of the spirit unto death the triumph of the immortalsoul over the weaknesses of the flesh and the terrors of a purelytransitory suffering!

That the days for such display of firmness in the fiery furnace wereover was almost a matter of regret to me in the first flush of myenthusiasm for the cause I had espoused. I wished so profoundly toshow my love, and found all modern ways so tame in comparison tothose which demanded the yielding up of one's very blood and life. Poor fool! did I never think that those who are the bravest inimagination fail often the most lamentably when brought face to facewith the doom they have invoked. 

I have never been a robust man, and consequently have never enteredmuch into those sports and exercises incident to youth and earlymanhood that show a man of what stuff he is made. I have lived in mybooks till I came to S----, since which I have tried to live in thejoys and sorrows of my fellow-beings. 

The great rule of Christian living has seemed to me imperative. Loveyour neighbor as yourself, or, as I have always interpreted it, morethan yourself. For a man, then, to sacrifice that neighbor to savehimself from physical or mental distress, has always seemed to menot only the height of cowardice, but a direct denial of thosetruths upon which are founded the Christian's ultimate hope. As aman myself, I despise with my whole heart such weaklings; as aChristian minister I denounce them. Nothing can excuse a soul forwavering in its duty because that duty is hard. It is the hardthings we should take delight in facing; otherwise we are babes andnot men, and our faith a matter of expediency, and not that sternand immovable belief in God and His purposes which can alone pleaseDeity and bring us into that immediate communion with His spiritwhich it should be the end and aim of every human soul to enjoy. 

Such are my principles. Let us see how I have illustrated them inthe events of the last six weeks. 

On the sixteenth of August, five weeks ago to-day, I was called tothe bedside of Samuel Pollard. He had been long sinking with anincurable disease, and now the end was at hand and my Christianoffices required. I was in the full tide of sermon-writing when thesummons came, and I hesitated at first whether to follow themessenger at once or wait till the daylight had quite disappeared, and with it my desire to place on paper the thoughts that wereinspiring me with more than ordinary fervor. 

But a question to my own heart decided me. Not my sermon, but thesecret disinclination I always felt to enter this special family, was what in reality held me back; and this was a reason which, asyou will have seen from the words I have already written, I couldnot countenance. I accordingly signified to the messenger that Iwould be with Mr. Pollard in a few moments, and putting away mypapers, prepared to leave the room. 

There, is a saying in the Bible to the effect that no man liveth tohimself, nor dieth to himself. If in the course of this narrative Iseem to show little consideration for the secrets of others, letthis be at once my explanation and excuse: That only in the cause oftruth do I speak at all; and that in holding up before you thefollies and wrong-doings of persons you know, I subject them to noheavier penalty than that which I have incurred through my own sin. I shall therefore neither gloss over nor suppress any fact bearingupon a full explanation of my fate; and when I say I hesitated to goto Mr. Pollard because of my inherent dislike to enter his house, Iwill proceed to give as my reason for this dislike, my unconquerabledistrust of his wife, who, if a fine-looking and capable woman, iscertainly one to be feared by every candid and truth-loving nature. 

But, as I said before, I did not yield to the impulse I had withinme to stay; and, merely stopping to cast a parting glance about myroom--why, I do not know, for I could have had no premonition of thefact that I was bidding good-by to the old life of hope and peaceforever--I hastened after the messenger whom I had sent on before meto Mr. Pollard's home. 

Small occurrences sometimes make great impressions on the mind. As Iwas turning the corner at Halsey Street, the idiot boy Colwell camerushing by, and almost fell into my arms. I started back, shuddering, as if some calamity had befallen me. An invinciblerepugnance to any thing deformed or half-witted has always been oneof my weaknesses, and for him to have touched me--I hate myself as Iwrite it, but I cannot think of it now without a chill in my veinsand an almost unbearable feeling of physical contamination. Yet as Iwould be as just to myself as I hope to be to others, I did not letthis incident pass, without a struggle to conquer my lower nature. Standing still, I called the boy back, and deliberately, and with areverential thought of the Christ, I laid my hand on his arm, and, stooping, kissed him. It cost me much, but I could never have passedthat corner without doing it; nor were I to live years on thisearth, instead of a few short days, should I ever let another weekgo by without forcing my body into some such contact with whatnature has afflicted and man contemned. 

The pallor which I therefore undoubtedly showed upon entering Mr. Pollard's room was owing to the memory of this incident rather thanto any effect which the sight of the dying man had upon me. Butbefore I had been many minutes in the room, I found my pulsethrilling with new excitement and my manhood roused to repel a freshinfluence more dangerous, if less repulsive, than the last. 

Let me see if I can make it plain to you. Mr. Pollard, whom we haveall known as an excellent but somewhat weak man, lay with his faceturned towards the room, and his gaze fixed with what I felt to bemore than the common anxiety of the dying upon mine. At his side sathis wife, cold, formidable, alert, her hand on his hand, her eye onhis eye, and all her icy and implacable will set, as I could plainlysee, between him and any comfort or encouragement I might endeavorto impart. She even allowed her large and commanding figure to usurpthe place usually accorded me on such occasions, and when, after afutile effort or so on my part to break down the barrier ofrestraint that such a presence necessarily imposed, I arose from myseat at the foot of the bed, and, approaching closer, would haveleaned over her husband, she put out her other hand and imperativelywaved me aside, remarking:

"The doctor says he must have air. "

There are some persons whose looks and words are strangelycontrolling. Mrs. Pollard is one of these, and I naturally drewback. But a glance at Mr. Pollard's face made me question if I wasdoing right in this. Such disappointment, such despair even, I hadseldom seen expressed in a look; and convinced that he had somethingof real purport to say to me, I turned towards his wife, andresolutely remarked:

"The dying frequently have communications to make to which onlytheir pastor's ear is welcome. Will you excuse me, then, if Irequest a moment's solitude with Mr. Pollard, that I may find out ifhis soul is at rest before I raise my prayers in its behalf?"

But, before I had finished, I saw that any such appeal would beunavailing. If her immovable expression had not given me thisassurance, the hopeless closing of his weak and fading eyes wouldhave sufficiently betrayed the fact. 

"I cannot leave Mr. Pollard, " were the words with which she temperedher refusal. "If he has any communication to make, let him make itin my presence. I am his wife. " And her hand pressed more firmlyupon his, and her eyes, which had not stirred from his face evenwhen I addressed her, assumed a dark, if not threatening look, whichgradually forced his to open and meet them. 

I felt that something must be done. 

"Mr. Pollard, " said I, "is there any thing you wish to impart to mebefore you die? If so, speak up freely and with confidence, for I amhere to do a friend and a pastor's duty by you, even to the point offulfilling any request you may have to make, so it be only actuatedby right feeling and judgment. " And determinedly ignoring her quickmove of astonishment, I pressed forward and bent above him, strivingwith what I felt to be a purely righteous motive, to attract hisglance from hers, which was slowly withering him away as if it werea basilisk's. 

And I succeeded. After an effort that brought the sweat out on hisbrow, he turned his look on mine, and, gathering strength from myexpression, probably, gave me one eager and appealing glance, andthrust his left hand under his pillow. 

His wife, who saw every thing, leaned forward with an uneasygesture. 

"What have you there?" she asked. 

But he had already drawn forth a little book and placed it in myhand. 

"Only my old prayer-book, " he faltered. "I felt as if I should likeMr. Barrows to have it. "

She gave him an incredulous stare, and allowed her glance to followthe book. I immediately put it in my pocket. 

"I shall take a great deal of pleasure in possessing it, " Iremarked. 

"Read it, " he murmured; "read it carefully. " And a tone of reliefwas in his voice that seemed to alarm her greatly; for she half roseto her feet and made a gesture to some one I did not see, afterwhich she bent again towards the dying man and whispered in his ear. 

But, though her manner had all its wonted force, and her words, whatever they were, were lacking in neither earnestness nor purpose, he did not seem to be affected by them. For the first time in hislife, perhaps, he rose superior to that insidious influence, and, nerved by the near approach of death, kept his gaze fixed on mine, and finally stammered:

"Will you do some thing else for me?"

"I will, " I began, and might have said more, but he turned from meand with sudden energy addressed his wife. 

"Margaret, " said he, "bring me my desk. "

Had a thunderbolt fallen at her feet, she could not have looked moreastonished. I myself was somewhat surprised; I had never heard thattone from him before. 

"My desk!" he cried again; "I want it here. "

At this repetition of his request, uttered this time with all thevehemence of despair. Mrs. Pollard moved, though she did not rise. At the same moment a quick, soft step was heard, and through thegloom of the now rapidly darkening chamber I saw their younger sondraw near and take his stand at the foot of the bed. 

"I have but a few minutes, " murmured the sick man. "Will you refuseto make them comfortable, Margaret?"

"No, no, " she answered hastily, guided as I could not but see by analmost imperceptible movement of her son's hand; and rising with agreat show of compliance, she proceeded to the other end of theroom. I at once took her place by the side of his pillow. 

"Is there no word of comfort I can give you?" said I, anxious forthe soul thus tortured by earthly anxieties on the very brink of thegrave. 

But his mind, filled with one thought, refused to entertain anyother. 

"Pray God that my strength hold out, " he whispered. "I have an actof reparation to make. " Then, as his son made a move as if toadvance, he caught my hand in his, and drew my ear down to hismouth. "The book, " he gasped; "keep it safely--they may try to takeit away--don't--"

But here his son intervened with some word of warning; and Mrs. Pollard, hurriedly approaching, laid the desk on the bed in such away that I was compelled to draw back. 

But this did not seem to awaken in him any special distress. Fromthe instant his eyes fell upon the desk, a feverish strength seemedto seize him, and looking up at me with something of his oldbrightness of look and manner, he asked to have it opened and itscontents taken out. 

Naturally embarrassed at such a request, I turned to Mrs. Pollard. 

"It seems a strange thing for me to do, " I began; but a lightningglance had already passed between her and her son, and with the coldand haughty dignity for which she is remarkable, she calmly stoppedme with a quiet wave of her hand. 

"The whims of the dying must be respected, " she remarked, andreseated herself in her old place at his side. 

I at once proceeded to empty the desk. It contained mainly letters, and one legal-looking document, which I took to be his will. As Ilifted this out, I saw mother and son both cast him a quick glance, as if they expected some move on his part. But though his handstrembled somewhat, he made no special sign of wishing to see ortouch it, and at once I detected on their faces a look of surprisethat soon took on the character of dismay, as with the lifting ofthe last paper from the desk he violently exclaimed:

"Now break in the bottom and take out the paper you will find there. It is my last will and testament, and by every sacred right you holdin this world, I charge you to carry it to Mr. Nicholls, and seethat no man nor woman touches it till you give it into his hands. "

"His will!" echoed Mrs. Pollard, astonished. 

"He don't know what he says. This is his will, " she was probablygoing to assert, for her hand was pointing to the legal-lookingdocument I have before mentioned; but a gesture from her son madeher stop before the last word was uttered. "He must be wandering inhis mind, " she declared. "We know of no will hidden away in hisdesk. Ah!"

The last exclamation was called forth by the sudden slipping intoview of a folded paper from between the crevices of the desk. I hadfound the secret spring. The next instant the bottom fell out, andthe paper slipped to the floor. I was quick to recover it. Had I notbeen, Mrs. Pollard would have had it in her grasp. As it was, ourhands met, not without a shock, I fear, on either side. A gasp ofintense suspense came from the bed. 

"Keep it, " the dying eyes seemed to say; and if mine spoke asplainly as his did, they answered with full as much meaning andforce:

"I will. "

Guy Pollard and his mother looked at each other, then at the pocketinto which I had already thrust the paper. The dying man followedtheir glances, and with a final exertion of strength, raised himselfon his elbow. 

"My curse on him or her who seeks to step between me and the latereparation I have sought to make. Weaker than most men, I havesubmitted to your will, Margaret, up to this hour, but your reignis over at last, and--and--" The passionate words died away, thefeverish energy succumbed, and with one last look into my face, Samuel Pollard fell back upon his pillow, dead. 

XIX. 

A FATAL DELAY. 

 Would'st thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting "I dare not, " wait upon "I would, " Like the poor cat i' the adage? --MACBETH. 

He was to all appearance immediately forgotten. As with mutualconsent we all turned and faced each other, Mrs. Pollard with astern, inexorable look in her dark eye, which, while it held meenchained, caused me to involuntarily lay my hand upon the documentwhich I had hidden in my breast She noticed the movement, and smileddarkly with a sidelong look at her son. The smile and the lookaffected me strangely. In them I seemed to detect something deeperthan hatred and baffled rage, and when in a moment later her sonresponded to her glance by quietly withdrawing from the room, I feltsuch revolt against their secrecy that for a moment I was tempted toabandon an undertaking that promised to bring me in conflict withpassions of so deep and unrelenting a nature. 

But the impression which the pain and despair of my dead friend hadmade upon me was as yet too recent for me to yield to my firstmomentary apprehensions; and summoning up what resolution Ipossessed, I took my leave of Mrs. Pollard, and was hasteningtowards the door, when her voice, rising cold and clear, arrestedme. 

"You think, then, that it is your duty to carry this paper from thehouse, Mr. Barrows?"

"Yes, madam, I do, " was my short reply. 

"In spite of my protest and that of my son?"

"Yes, madam. "

"Then upon your head be the consequences!" she exclaimed, andturned her back upon me with a look which went with me as I closedthe door between us; lending a gloom to the unlighted halls andsombre staircases that affected me almost with an impulse of fear. 

I dreaded crossing to where the stairs descended; I dreaded goingdown them into the darkness which I saw below. Not that Ianticipated actual harm, but that I felt I was in the house of thosewho longed to see me the victim of it; and my imagination beingmore than usually alert, I even found myself fancying the secrettriumph with which Guy Pollard would hail an incautious slip on mypart, that would precipitate me from the top to the bottom of thistreacherous staircase. That he was somewhere between me and thefront door, I felt certain. The deadly quiet behind and before meseemed to assure me of this; and, ashamed as I was of the impulsethat moved me, I could not prevent myself from stepping cautiouslyas I prepared to descend, saying as some sort of excuse to myself:"He is capable of seeing me trip without assistance, " and as myimagination continued its work: "He is even capable of putting outhis foot to help forward such a catastrophe. "

And, indeed, I now think that if this simple plan had presenteditself to his subtle mind, of stunning, if not disabling me, andthus making it possible for them to obtain his father's willwithout an open assault, he would not have hesitated to embrace it. But he evidently did not calculate, as I did, the chances of such anact, or perhaps he felt that I was likely to be too much upon myguard to fall a victim to this expedient, for I met no one as Iadvanced, and was well down the stairs and on my way to the frontdoor, before I perceived any signs of life in the sombre house. Thena sudden glare of light across my path betrayed the fact that a doorhad been swung wide in a certain short passage that opened ahead ofme; and while I involuntarily stopped, a shadow creeping along thefurther wall of that passage warned me that some one--I could notdoubt it to be Guy Pollard--had come out to meet me. 

The profound stillness, and the sudden pause which the shadow madeas I inconsiderately stumbled in my hesitation, assured me that Iwas right in attributing a sinister motive to this encounter. Naturally, therefore, I drew back, keeping my eyes upon the shadow. It did not move. Convinced now that danger of some kind lay ahead ofme, I looked behind and about me for some means of escaping fromthe house without passing by my half-seen enemy. But none presentedthemselves. Either I must slink away into the kitchen region--aproceeding from which my whole manhood revolted, --or I must advanceand face whatever evil awaited me. Desperation drove me to thelatter course. Making one bound, I stood before that lightedpassage. A slim, firm figure confronted me; but it was not that ofGuy, but of his older brother, Dwight. 

The surprise of the shock, together with a certain revelation whichcame to me at the same moment, and of which I will speak hereafter, greatly unnerved me. I had not been thinking of Dwight Pollard. Strange as it may seem, I had not even missed him from the bedsideof his father. To see him, then, here and now, caused many thoughtsto spring into my mind, foremost among which was the important oneas to whether he was of a nature to lend himself to any scheme ofviolence. The quickness with which I decided to the contrary provedto me in what different estimation I had always held him from what Ihad his mother and brother. 

It was consequently no surprise to me when he leaned forward andspoke to me with consideration and force. I was only surprised at ahis words:

"Don't stop, Mr. Barrows, " said he. "Go home at once; only"--andhere he paused, listened, then proceeded with increased emphasis, "don't go by the way of Orchard Street. " And without waiting for myreply, he stepped back and noiselessly regained the apartment he hadleft, while I, in a confusion of emotions difficult to analyze atthe moment, hastily accepted his advice, and withdrew from thehouse. 

The relief of breathing the fresh air again was indescribable. If Ihad not escaped the miasma and oppression of a prison, I certainlyhad left behind me influences of darkness and sinister suggestion, which, in the light of the calm moonbeams that I found flooding theworld without, had the effect upon me of a vanished horror. Only Iwas still haunted by that last phrase which I had heard uttered, "Don't go by the way of Orchard Street, " an injunction which simplymeant, "Don't go with that document to the lawyer's to-night. "

Now was this order, given as it was by Dwight Pollard, one ofwarning or of simple threat? My good-will toward this especialmember of the Pollard family inclined me to think it the former. 

There was danger, then, lurking for me somewhere on the road to Mr. Nicholls' house. Was it my duty to encounter this danger? Itappeared to me not, especially as it was not necessary for me toacquit myself so instantly of the commission with which I had beenintrusted. I accordingly proceeded directly home. 

But once again in my familiar study, I became conscious of a strongdissatisfaction with myself. Indeed, I may speak more forcibly andsay I was conscious of a loss of trust in my own manhood, which wasat once so new and startling that it was as if a line had been drawnbetween my past and present. This was due to the discovery I hadmade at the moment I had confronted Dwight Pollard--a discovery sohumiliating in its character that it had shaken me, body and soul. Ihad found in the light of that critical instant that I, DavidBarrows, was _a coward!_ Yes, gloss it over as I would, theknowledge was deep in my mind that I lacked manhood's most virileattribute; that peril, real or imaginary, could awaken in me fear;and that the paling cheek and trembling limbs of which I had been sobitterly conscious at that instant were but the outward signs of aweakness that extended deep down into my soul. 

It was a revelation calculated to stagger any man, how much more, then, one who had so relied upon his moral powers as to take uponhimself the sacred name of minister. But this was not all. I had notonly found myself to be a coward, but I had shown myself such toanother's eyes. By the searching look which Dwight Pollard had givenme before he spoke, and the quiet, half-disdainful curve which hislips took at the close of his scrutiny, I was convinced that he sawthe defect in my nature, and despised me for it, even while hecondescended to offer me the protection which my fears seemed todemand. Or--the thought could come now that I was at home, and hadescaped the dangers lying in wait for me on the road to my duty--hehad made use of my weakness to gain his own ends. The carrying ofthat document to Mr. Nicholls meant loss of property to them allperhaps, and he had but taken means, consistent with his character, to insure the delay which his brother had possibly planned to gainin some more reprehensible manner. And I had yielded to my fears andlet his will have its way. I hated myself as I considered my ownweakness. I could find no excuse either for my pusillanimity or forthat procrastination of my duty into which it had betrayed me. Ifound I could not face my own scorn; and, rising from my study-chair, I took my hat and went out. I had determined to make amendsfor my fault by going at once to Orchard Street. 

And I did; but alas! for the result! The half-hour I had lost wasfatal. To be sure I met with no adventure on my way, but I found Mr. Nicholls out. He had been summoned by a telegram to Boston, and hadbeen absent from the house only fifteen minutes. I meditatedfollowing him to the station, but the whistle sounded just as Iturned away from his door, and I knew I should be too late. Humiliated still further in my own estimation, I went home to waitwith what patience I could for the two or three days which mustelapse before his return. 

Before I went to bed that night I opened the book which Mr. Pollardhad given me, in the expectation of finding a letter in it, or, atleast, some writing on the title-page or the blank pages of thebook. But I was disappointed in both regards. With the exceptionof some minute pencil-marks scattered here and there along thetext--indications, doubtless, of favorite passages--I perceivednothing in the volume to account for the extreme earnestness withwhich he had presented it. 

XX. 

THE OLD MILL. 

 Whither wilt thou lead me? speak; I'll go no farther. --HAMLET. 

I did not sleep well that night, but this did not prevent me frombeginning work early in the morning. The sermon I had beeninterrupted in the afternoon before, had to be completed that day;and I was hard at work upon it when there came a knock at my study-door. I arose with any thing but alacrity and opened it. DwightPollard stood before me. 

It was a surprise that called up a flush to my cheeks; but daylightwas shining upon this interview, and I knew none of those sensationswhich had unnerved me the night before. I was simply on my guard, and saw him seat himself in my own chair, without any other feelingthan that of curiosity as to the nature of his errand. He likewisewas extremely self-possessed, and looked at me calmly for someinstants before speaking. 

"Last night, " he began, "you refused a request which my mother madeof you. "

I bowed. 

"It was a mistake, " he continued. "The paper which my father gaveyou cannot be one which he in his right senses would wish seen bythe public. You should have trusted my mother, who knew my fathermuch better than you did. "

"It was not a matter of trust, " I protest. "A document had beengiven me by I a dying man, with an injunction to put it into certainhands. I had no choice but to fulfil his wishes in this regard. Your mother herself would have despised me if I had yielded to herimportunities and left it behind me. "

"My mother, " he commenced. 

"Your mother is your mother, " I put in. "Let us have respect forher widowhood, and leave her out of this conversation. "

He looked at me closely, and I understood his glance. 

"I cannot return you your father's will, " I declared, firmly. 

He held my glance with his. 

"Have you it still?" he asked. 

"I cannot return it to you, " I repeated. 

He arose and approached me courteously. "You are doing what youconsider to be your duty, " said he. "In other words than my motherused, I simply add, on _our_ heads must be the consequences. "And his grave look, at once half-sad and half-determined, impressedme for the first time with a certain sort of sympathy for thisunhappy family. "And this leads me to the purpose of my call, " heproceeded, deferentially. "I am here at my mothers wish, and I bringyou her apologies. Though you have done and are doing wrong by yourpersistence in carrying out my poor father's wishes to the detrimentof his memory, my mother regrets that she spoke to you in the mannershe did, and hopes you will not allow it to stand in the way of yourconducting the funeral services. "

"Mr. Pollard, " I replied, "your father was my friend, and to noother man could I delegate the privilege of uttering prayers overhis remains. But I would not be frank to you nor true to myself if Idid not add that it will take more than an apology from your motherto convince me that she wishes me well, or is, indeed, any thing butthe enemy her looks proclaimed her to be last night. "

"I am sorry----" he began, but meeting my eye, stopped. "You possessa moral courage which I envy you, " he declared. And waiving thesubject of his mother, he proceeded to inform me concerning thefuneral and the arrangements which had been made. 

I listened calmly. In the presence of this man I felt strong. Though he knew the secret of my weakness, and possibly despised mefor it, he also knew what indeed he had just acknowledged, that insome respects I was on a par with him. 

The arrangements were soon made, and he took his leave without anyfurther allusion to personal matters. But I noticed that at the doorhe stopped and cast a look of inquiry around the room. Itdisconcerted me somewhat; and while I found it difficult to expressto myself the nature of the apprehensions which it caused, Iinwardly resolved to rid myself as soon as possible of theresponsibility of holding Mr. Pollard's will. If Mr. Nicholls didnot return by the day of the funeral, I would go myself to Bostonand find him. 

No occurrence worth mentioning followed this interview with DwightPollard. I conducted the services as I had promised, but foundnothing to relate concerning them, save the fact that Mrs. Pollardwas not present. She had been very much prostrated by her husband'sdeath, and was not able to leave her room, or so it was said. Imistrusted the truth of this, however, but must acknowledge I wasglad to be relieved of a presence not only so obnoxious to myself, but so out of tune with the occasion. I could ignore Guy, subtle andsecret as he was, but this woman could not be ignored. Where shewas, there brooded something dark, mysterious, and threatening; andwhether she smiled or frowned, the influence of her spirit was feltby a vague oppression at once impossible to analyze or escape from. 

From the cemetery I went immediately to my house. The day was adreary one, and I felt, chilled. The gray of the sky was in myspirit, and every thing seemed unreal and dark and strange. I was ina mood, I suppose, and, unlike myself on other similar occasions, did not feel that drawing towards the one dear heart which hithertohad afforded me solace and support. I had not got used to my newself as yet, and till I did, the smile of her I loved was more of areproach to me than consolation. 

I was stopped at the gate by Mrs. Banks. She is my next-doorneighbor, and in the absence of my landlady who had gone to visitsome friends, took charge of any message which might be left for mewhile I was out. She looked flurried and mysterious. 

"You have had a visitor, " she announced. 

As she paused and looked as if she expected to be questioned, Inaturally asked who it was. 

"She said she was your sister, " she declared. "A tall woman with athick veil over her face. She went right up to your study, but Ithink she must have got tired of waiting, for she went away again afew moments ago. "

My sister! I had no sister. I looked at Mrs. Banks in amazement

"Describe her more particularly, " said I. 

"That I cannot do, " she returned. "Her veil hid her features toocompletely for me to see them. I could not even tell her age, but Ishould say, from the way she walked that she was older than you. "

A chill, which did not come entirely from the east wind thenblowing, ran sharply through my veins. 

"I thank you, " said I, somewhat incoherently, and ran hastilyupstairs. I had a presentiment as to the identity of this woman. 

At the door of my study I paused and looked hurriedly around. Nosigns of any disturbance met my eye. Crossing over to my desk, Isurveyed the papers which I had left scattered somewhat loosely overit. They had been moved. I knew it by the position of the blotter, which I had left under a certain sheet of paper, and which now layon top. Hot and cold at once, I went immediately to the spot where Ihad concealed Mr. Pollard's will. It was in my desk, but underneatha drawer instead of in it, and by this simple precaution, perhaps, Ihad saved it from destruction; for I found it lying in its placeundisturbed, though the hand which had crept so near its hiding-place was, as I felt certain, no other than that of Mrs. Pollard, searching for this very document. 

It gave me a shuddering sense of disquiet to think that the veiledfigure of this portentous woman had glided over my floors, reflecteditself in my mirrors, and hung, dark and mysterious in its veilingdrapery, over my desk and the papers which I had handled myself solately. 

I was struck, too, by the immovable determination to compass her ownends at any and every risk, which was manifested by this incident;and, wondering more and more as to what had been the nature of theoffence for which Mr. Pollard sought to make reparation in his will, I only waited for a moment of leisure in order to make anothereffort at enlightenment by a second study of the prayer-book whichmy dying friend had placed so earnestly in my hands. 

It came, as I supposed, about eight o'clock that evening. Thespecial duties of the day were done, and I knew of nothing else thatdemanded my attention. I therefore took the book from my pocket, where I had fortunately kept it, and was on the point of opening itspages, when there came a ring at the door-bell below. 

As I have said before, my landlady was away. I consequently went tothe door myself, where I was met by an unexpected visitor in theshape of the idiot boy, Colwell. Somewhat disconcerted at the sightof a face so repugnant to me, I was still more thrown off my balancewhen I heard his errand. He had been sent, he said, by a man who hadbeen thrown from his wagon on the north road, and was now lying in adying condition inside the old mill, before which he was picked up. Would I come and see him? He had but an hour or so to live, andwished very much for a clergyman's consolation. 

It was a call any thing but agreeable to me. I was tired; I wasinterested in the attempt which I was about to make to solve amystery that was not altogether disconnected with my own personalwelfare, and--let me acknowledge it, since events have proved I hadreason to fear this spot--I did not like the old mill. But I was farfrom conceiving what a wretched experience lay before me, nor didthe fact that the unwelcome request came through the medium of animbecile arouse any suspicion in my mind as to the truth of themessage he brought. For, foolish as he is in some regards, hisreliability as an errand-boy is universally known, while hispartiality for roaming, as well as for excitements of all kinds, fully accounted for the fact of his being upon the scene ofaccident. 

I had, then, nothing but my own disinclinations to contend with, andthese, strong as they were, could not, at that time, and in the moodwhich my late experience had induced, long stand in the way of aduty so apparent. 

I consequently testified my willingness to go to the mill, and in afew minutes later set out for that spot with a mind comparativelyfree from disagreeable forebodings. But as we approached the mill, and I caught a glimpse of its frowning walls glooming so darkly fromout the cluster of trees that environed them, I own that a sensationakin to that which had been awakened in me by Mrs. Pollard'sthreats, and the portentous darkness of her sombre mansion, onceagain swept with its chilling effect over my nerves. 

Shocked, disgusted with myself at the recurrence of a weakness forwhich I had so little sympathy, I crushed down the feelings Iexperienced, and advanced at once to the door. A tall and slimfigure met me, clothed in some dark enveloping garment, andcarrying a lantern. 

"The injured man is within, " said he. 

Something in the voice made me look up. His face was entirely inshadow. 

"Who are you?" I asked. 

He did not reply. 

"Let us go in, " he said. 

A week before I would have refused to do this without knowing moreof my man. But the shame from which I had suffered for the last fewdays had made me so distrustful of myself that I was ready to imputeto cowardice even the most ordinary instinct of self-preservation. 

I accordingly followed the man, though with each step that I took Ifelt my apprehensions increase. To pierce in this manner a depth ofsombre darkness, with only the dim outline of an unknown man movingsilently before me, was any thing but encouraging in itself. Thenthe way was too long, and the spot we sought too far from the door. A really injured man would not be carried beyond the first room, Ithought, and we had already taken steps enough to be half-waythrough the building. At last I felt that even cowardice wasexcusable under these circumstances, and, putting out my hand, Itouched the man before me on the shoulder. 

"Where are we going?" I demanded. 

He continued to move on without reply. 

"I shall follow you no longer if you do not speak, " I cried again. "This midnight journey through an old building ready to fall intoruins seems to me not only unpleasant but hazardous. "

Still no answer. 

"I warned you, " I said, and stopped, but the next moment I gave analmost frantic bound forward. A form had come up against me frombehind, and I found that a man was following as closely upon mysteps as I had been following those of the person who stalked beforeme. 

The thrill of this discovery will never be forgotten by me. For amoment I could not speak, and when I did, the sound of my voice onlyadded to my terrors. 

"You have me in a trap, " said I; "who are you, and what are yourintentions with me?"

"We have you where we can reason with you, " exclaimed the voice ofhim who pressed against my back; and at the sound of thosegentlemanly tones with their underlying note of sarcasm, Iunderstood that my hour had come. It was the voice and intonation ofGuy Pollard. 

XXI. 

THE VAT. 

 _Des_. --Talk you of killing?' _Oth_. --Ay, I do. _Des_. --Then, heaven Have mercy on me! --OTHELLO. 

I quivered with shame, for I felt my heart sink. But there was nopause in the smooth, sarcastic tones behind me. "When a man persistsin judging of his duty contrary to the dictates of reason, he mustexpect restraint from those who understand his position better thanhe does himself. "

"Then, " quoth I, with suddenly acquired strength, "I am tounderstand that the respectable family of Pollard finds itselfwilling to resort to the means and methods of highwaymen in order tocompass its ends and teach me my duty. "

"You are, " a determined voice returned. 

At that word, uttered as it was in a tone inexorable as fate, mylast ray of hope went out. The voice was that of a woman. 

I however, made a strong effort for the preservation of my dignityand person. 

"And will Samuel Pollard's oldest and best-beloved son, the kind-hearted and honest Dwight, lend himself to a scheme of common fraudand violence?" I asked. 

The reply came in his brother's most sarcastic tones. "Dwight hasleft us, " he declared. "We have no need of honesty or kind-heartedness here. What we want for this business is an immovabledetermination. "

Startled, I looked up. The lantern which had hitherto swung from thehand of my guide stood on the floor. By its light three things werevisible. First, that we stood at the head of a staircase descendinginto a depth of darkness which the eye could not pierce; secondly, that in all the area about me but two persons stood; and third, thatof these two persons one of them was masked and clad in a long blackgarment, such as is worn at masquerade balls under the name of adomino. Struck with an icy chill, I looked down again. Why had Iallowed myself to be caught in such a trap? Why had I not followedMr. Nicholls immediately to Boston when I heard that he was nolonger in town? Or, better still, why had I not manufactured formyself a safeguard in the form of a letter to that gentleman, informing him of the important document which I held, and the dangerin which it possibly stood from the family into whose toils I hadnow fallen? I could have cursed myself for my dereliction. 

"David Barrows, " came in imperative tones from the masked figure, "will you tell us where this will is?"

"No, " I returned. 

"Is it not on your person?" the inquisitorial voice pursued. 

"It is not, " I answered, firmly, thankful that I spoke the truth inthis. 

"It is in your rooms, then; in your desk, perhaps?"

I remained silent. 

"Is it in your rooms?" the indomitable woman proceeded. 

"You who have been there should know, " I replied, feeling my couragerise, as I considered that they could not assail my honor, while mylife without my secret would benefit them so little that it might besaid to stand in no danger. 

"I do not understand you, " the icy voice declared; while Guy, stepping forward, planted his hand firmly on my shoulder and said:

"Wherever it is, it shall be delivered to our keeping to-night. Weare in no mood for dallying. Either you will give us your solemnpromise to obtain this will, and hand it over to us without delayand without scandal, or the free light of heaven is shut out fromyou forever. You shall never leave this mill. "

"But, " I faltered, striving in vain to throw off the incubus ofhorror which his words invoked, "what good would my death do you?Could it put Mr. Pollard's will in your hands?"

"Yes, " was the brief and decided reply, "if it is anywhere in yourrooms. "

It was a word that struck home. The will was in my rooms, and Ialready saw it, in my imagination, torn from its hiding-place by theunscrupulous hand that held me. 

Mastering my emotion with what spirit I could, I looked quicklyabout me. Was there no means of escape? I saw none. In the remoteand solitary place which they had chosen for this desperate attempt, a cry would be but waste breath, even if we were in that part of themill which looked toward the road. But we were not; on the contrary, I could see by the aid of the faint glimmer which the lantern sentforth, that the room in which we had halted was as far as possiblefrom the front of the building, for its windows were obscured by thebrush-wood which only grew against the back of the mill. To callout, then, would be folly, while to seek by any force or strategy tobreak away from the two relentless beings that controlled me couldonly end in failure, unless darkness would come to my aid and hidemy road of escape. But darkness could only come by the extinguishingof the lantern, and that it was impossible for me to effect; for Iwas not strong enough to struggle in its direction with Guy Pollard, nor could I reach it by any stretch of foot or hand. The light mustburn and I must stay there, unless--the thought came suddenly--Icould take advantage of the flight of steps at the head of which Istood, and by a sudden leap, gain the cellar, where I would stand agood chance of losing myself amid intricacies as little known tothem as to myself. But to do this I must be free to move, and therewas no shaking myself loose from the iron clutch that held me. 

"You see you are in our power, " hissed the voice of the woman frombetween the motionless lips of her black mask. 

"I see I am, " I acknowledged, "but I also see that you are in thatof God. " And I looked severely towards her, only to drop my eyesagain with an irrepressible shudder. 

For, lay it to my weakness or to the baleful influence whichemanated from the whole ghostly place, there was somethingabsolutely appalling in this draped and masked figure with itsgleaming eyes and cold, thin voice. 

"Shall we have what we want before your death or after?" proceededGuy Pollard, with a calm but cold ignoring of my words that wasmore threatening than any rudeness. 

I did not answer at first, and his grip upon me tightened; but nextmoment, from what motive I cannot say, it somewhat relaxed; and, startled, with the hope of freedom, I exclaimed with a vehemencefor which my former speech must have little prepared them:

"You shall not have it at all. I cannot break my word with yourfather, and I will not stay here to be threatened and killed;" andmaking a sudden movement, I slipped from his grasp, and plunged downthe steps into the darkness below. 

But, scarcely had my feet touched the cellar floor, before I heardthe warning cry shrill out from above:

"Take care! There is an open vat before you. If you fall into that, we shall be free of your interference without lifting a hand. "

An open vat! I had heard of the vats in the old mill's cellar. Instinctively recoiling, I stood still, not knowing whether toadvance or retreat. At the same moment I heard the sound of stepsdescending the stairs. 

"So you think this a better place for decision than the floorabove?" exclaimed Guy Pollard, drawing up by my side. "Well, I notsure but you are right, " he added; and I saw by the light of thelantern which his companion now brought down the stairs, the coldglimmer of a smile cross his thin lips and shine for a moment fromhis implacable eyes. Not knowing what he meant, I glanced anxiouslyabout, and shrank with dismay as I discerned the black hole of thevat he had mentioned, yawning within three feet of my side. Was it adream, my presence in this fearful spot? I looked at the longstretch of arches before me glooming away into the darkness beyondus, and felt the chill of a nameless horror settle upon my spirit. 

Was it because I knew those circles of blackness held many anothersuch pit of doom as that into which I had so nearly stumbled? Or wasit that the grisly aspect of the scene woke within me thatslumbering demon of the imagination which is the bane of natureslike mine. 

Whatever it was, I felt the full force of my position, and scarcelycared whether my voice trembled or not as I replied:

"You surely have me in your hands; but that does not mean that it isI who must make a decision. If I understand the situation, it is foryou to say whether you will be murderers or not. "

"Then you do not intend to put us in possession of my father'swill?"

"No, " I murmured, and bowed my head for the blow I expected fromhim. 

But he dealt me no blow. Instead of that he eyed me with a lookwhich grew more and more sinister as I met his glance with one whichI meant should convey my indomitable resolution. At last he spokeagain:

"I think you will reconsider your determination, " said he, with ameaning I did not even then fathom, and exchanging a quick glancewith the silent figure at his right, he leaned towards me and--whathappened? For a moment I could not tell, but soon, only too soon, Irecognized by my stunned and bleeding body, by the closeness of theair I suddenly breathed, and by the circle of darkness that shutabout me, and the still more distinct circle of light that glimmeredabove, that I had been pushed into the pit whose yawning mouth hadbut a few short moments before awakened in me such dismay. 

Aghast, almost mad with the horror of a fate so much more terriblethan any I had anticipated, I strove to utter a cry; but my tonguerefused its office, and nothing but an inarticulate murmur rose frommy lips. It was not piercing enough to clear the edge of the vat, and my soul sunk with despair as I heard its fruitless gurgle andrealized by the sound of departing steps, and the faint and fainterglimmer of the circle of light which at my first glance had shonequite brightly above my hideous prison-house, that my persecutorshad done their worst and were now leaving me alone in my trap toperish. 

God! what an instant it was! To speak, to shriek, to call, nay pleadfor aid, was but the natural outcome of the overwhelming anguish Ifelt, but the sound of steps had died out into an awful stillness, and the glimmering circle upon which my staring eyes were fixed hadfaded into a darkness so utter and complete, that had the earth beenpiled above my head, I could not have been more wholly hidden fromthe light. 

I had fallen on my knees, and desperate as I was, had made noattempt to rise. Not that I thought of prayer, unless my whole dazedand horrified being was a prayer. The consolations which I hadoffered to others did not seem to meet this case. Here was no deathin the presence of friends and under the free light of heaven. Thiswas a horror. The hand of God which could reach every other mortal, whatever their danger or doom, seemed to stop short at this gate ofhell. I could not even imagine my soul escaping thence. I wasburied; body and soul, I was buried and yet I was alive and knewthat I must remain alive for days if not for weeks. 

I do not suppose that I remained in this frightful condition ofabsolute hopelessness for more than five minutes, but it seemed tome an eternity. If a drowning man can review his life in an instant, what was there not left for me to think and suffer in the lapse ofthose five horrible minutes? I was young when the unscrupulous handof this daring murderer pushed me into this pit; I was old when witha thrill of joy such as passes over the body but once In a life-time, I heard a voice issue from the darkness, saying severely, "David Barrows, are you prepared for a decision now?" and realizedthat like the light which now sprang into full brilliance above myhead, hope had come again into my life, and that I had to speak buta dozen words to have sunshine and liberty restored to me. 

The rush of emotion which this startling change brought was almosttoo much for my reason. Looking up into the sardonic face, I couldnow discern peering over the edge of the vat, I asked with a franticimpulse that left me no time for thought, if an immediaterestoration to freedom would follow my compliance with his wishes, and when he answered: "Yes, " I beheld such a vision of sunshinyfields and a happy, love-lighted home, that my voice almost chokedas I responded, that I did not think his father would have wished meto sacrifice my life or force a son of his into the crime of murder, for the sake of any reparation which money could offer. And as I sawthe face above me grow impatient, I told in desperate haste where Ihad concealed the will and how it could be obtained without arousingthe suspicions of my neighbors. 

He seemed satisfied and hastily withdrew his face; but soon returnedand asked for the key of my house. I had it in my pocket andhurriedly pitched it up to him, when he again disappeared. 

"When shall I be released?" I anxiously called out after him. 

But no answer came back, and presently the light began to fade asbefore, and the sound of steps grow fainter and fainter till silenceand darkness again settled upon my dreadful prison-house. 

But this time I had hope to brighten me, and shutting my eyes, Iwaited patiently. But at last, as no change came and the silence anddarkness remained unbroken, I became violently alarmed and cried tomyself: "Am I the victim of their treachery? Have they obtained whatthey want and now am I to be left here to perish?"

The thought made my hair stand on end and had I not been a God-fearing man I should certainly have raised my voice in curses uponmy credulity and lack of courage. But before my passion could reachits height, hope shone again in the shape of returning light. Someone had entered the cellar and drawn near the edge of the vat; butthough I strained my gaze upward, no face met my view, and presentlyI heard a voice which was not that of Guy Pollard utter in tones ofsurprise and apprehension:

"Where is the clergyman? Guy said I should find him here in goodcondition?"

The masked figure, who was doubtless the one addressed, must haveanswered with a gesture towards the hole in which I lay, for I heardhim give vent to a horrified exclamation and then say in accents ofregret and shame: "Was it necessary?" and afterwards: "Are you surehe is not injured?"

The answer, which I did not hear, seemed to satisfy him, for he saidno more, and soon, too soon, walked away again, carrying the lightand leaving me, as I now knew, with that ominous black figure for mywatch and guardian, --a horror that lent a double darkness to thesituation which was only relieved now by the thought that DwightPollard's humanity was to be relied on, and that he would neverwantonly leave me there to perish after the will had been discoveredand destroyed. 

It was well that I had this confidence, for the time I now had towait was long. But I lived it through and at last had the joy ofhearing footsteps and the voice of Guy saying in a dry and satisfiedtone: "It is all right, " after which the face of Dwight looked overthe edge of the vat and he gave me the help which was needed to liftme out. 

I was a free man again. I had slipped from the gates of hell, andthe world with all its joys and duties lay before me bright andbeautiful as love and hope could make it. Yet whether it was thegloom of the cellar in which we still lingered, or the balefulinfluence that emanated, from the three persons in whose presence Ionce more stood, I felt a strange sinking at my heart and foundmyself looking back at the pit from which I had just escaped, with asensation of remorse, as if in its horrid depths I had left or lostsomething which must create a void within me forever. 

My meditations in this regard were interrupted by the voice of Guy. 

"David Barrows, " said he, "we hold the paper which was given you bymy father. "

I bowed with a slight intimation of impatience. 

"We have looked at it and it is as he said, his will. But it is notsuch a one as we feared, and to-morrow, or as soon as we can restorethe seal, we shall return it to you for such disposition as yourjudgment suggests. "

I stared at him in an amazement that made me forget my shame. 

"You will give it back?" I repeated. 

"To-morrow, " he laconically replied. 

XXII

THE CYPHER. 

 Ah, my false heart, what hast thou done?

This is a story of fact; it is also a story of mental struggle. Ishall not, therefore, be considered too diffuse if I say that thisunlooked for ending to my unhappy adventure threw me into a strangeturmoil of feeling, from which I had no rest until the next daycame. That they should promise to restore the will, to obtain whichthey had resorted to measures almost criminal in their severity, awoke in me the greatest astonishment. What could it mean? I waitedto see the will before replying. 

It came, as Guy Pollard had promised, at noon of the following day. It was in a new envelope, and was sealed just as it had been beforeit left my possession. Had I not known into what unscrupulous handsit had fallen, I should have doubted if it had ever been opened. Asit was, I was not only confident that it had been read from end toend, but fearful that it had been tampered with, and perhapsaltered. To get it out of my hands, and if possible, my mind also, Icarried it at once to Mr. Nicholls, who, I had ascertained thatmorning, had returned to town the day before. 

He received me with affability, but looked a little surprised whenhe learned my errand. 

"I was just going to call on the family, " said he; "I drew up Mr. Pollard's will myself, and---"

"You drew up Mr. Pollard's will?" I hastily interrupted. "You know, then, its contents, and can tell me---"

"Pardon me, " he as hastily put in, "the family have the first rightto a knowledge of what Mr. Pollard has done for them. "

I felt myself at a loss. To explain my rights and the great desirewhich I experienced to ascertain whether the tenor of the paper henow held coincided with that which he had submitted to Mr. Pollardfor his signature, necessitated a full relation of facts which I wasnot yet certain ought to be made public. For if the will had notbeen meddled with, and Mr. Pollard's wishes stood in no danger ofbeing slighted or ignored, what else but a most unhappy scandalcould accrue from the revelation which I should be forced to make?Then, my own part in the miserable affair. If not productive ofactual evil, it was still something to blush for, and I had not yetreached that stage of repentance or humility which made it easy toshow the world a weakness for which I had no pity nor sympathymyself. Yet to guard the interests with which I had been entrusted, it was absolutely necessary that the question which so muchdisturbed me should be answered. For, if any change had been made inthis important paper by which the disposition of Mr. Pollard'sproperty should be turned aside from the channel in which he hadordered it, I felt that no consideration for the public welfare ormy own good fame should hinder me from challenging its validity. 

My embarrassment evidently showed itself, for the acute lawyer, after a momentary scrutiny of my face, remarked:

"You say Mr. Pollard gave you this will to hand to me. Do you knowthe cause of this rather extraordinary proceeding, or have you anysuspicion why, in the event of his desiring me to have in charge apaper which ought to be safe enough in his own house, he choose hispastor for his messenger instead of one of his own sons?"

"Mr. Nicholls, " I returned, with inward satisfaction for theopportunity thus given me for reply, "the secrets which are confidedto a clergyman are as sacred as those which are entrusted to alawyer. I could not tell you my suspicions if I had any; I can onlystate the facts. One thing, however, I will add. That owing tocircumstances which I cannot explain, but greatly regret, this paperhas been out of my hands for a short time, and in speaking as I did, I wished merely to state that it would be a satisfaction to me toknow that no harm has befallen it, and that this is the very will inspirit and detail which you drew up and saw signed by Mr. Pollard. "

"Oh, " exclaimed the lawyer, "if that is all, I can soon satisfyyou. " And tearing open the envelope, he ran his eye over thedocument and quietly nodded. 

"It is the same, " he declared. "There has been no meddling here. "

And feeling myself greatly relieved, I rose without furtherconversation and hastily took my leave. 

But when I came to think of it all again in my own room, I found myequanimity was not yet fully restored. A doubt of some kindremained, and though, in consideration of the manifold duties thatpressed upon me, I relentlessly put it aside, I could not help itslingering in my mind, darkening my pleasures, and throwing a cloudover my work and the operations of my mind. The sight which I nowand then caught of the Pollards did not tend to allay my anxieties. There was satisfaction in their countenances, and in that of Guy, atleast, a certain triumphant disdain which could only be partlyexplained by the victory which he had won over me through my fears. I awaited the proving of the will with anxiety. If there were noseeming reparation made in it, I should certainly doubt its beingthe expression of Mr. Pollard's wishes. 

What was my surprise, then, when the will having been proved, Iobtained permission to read it and found that it not only containedmention of reparation, but that this reparation was to be made toMargaret his wife. 

"For sums loaned by her to me and lost, I desire to make reparationby an added bequest--" so it read; and I found myself nonplussedand thrown entirely out in all my calculations and conjectures. Theanxiety he had shown lest the will should fall into this verywoman's hands, did not tally with this expression of justice andgenerosity, nor did the large sums which he had left to his threechildren show any of that distrust which his countenance hadbetrayed towards the one who was present with him at the time of hisdeath. Could it be that he had given me the wrong paper or was he, as Mrs. Pollard had intimated, not responsible for his actions andlanguage at that time. I began to think the latter conjecture mightbe true, and was only hindered in the enjoyment of my oldtranquility by the remembrance of the fearful ordeal I had beensubjected to in the mill, and the consideration which it brought ofthe fears and suspicions which must have existed to make theperpetration of such an outrage possible. 

But time, which dulls all things, soon began to affect my memory ofthat hideous nightmare, and with it my anxiety lest in myunfaithfulness to my trust, I had committed a wrong upon someunknown innocent. Life with its duties and love with its speedyprospect of marriage gradually pushed all unpleasant thoughts frommy mind, and I was beginning to enjoy the full savor of my happy andhonorable position again, when my serenity was again, and this timeforever, destroyed by a certain revelation that was accidentallymade to me. 

The story of it was this. I had taken by mistake with me to afuneral the prayer-book with which Mr. Pollard had presented me. Iwas listening to the anthem which was being sung, and being in anervous frame of mind, was restlessly fingering the leaves of thebook which I held in my hand, when my eye, running over the pagethat happened to open before me, caught sight of some of the markswith which the text was plentifully bestowed. Mechanically I noticedthe words under which they stood, and mechanically I began readingthem, when, to my great astonishment and subsequent dismay, Iperceived they made sense, in short had a connection which, whencarried on from page to page of the book, revealed sentences whichpromised to extend themselves into a complete communication. This isthe page I happened upon, with its lines and dots. Note the result whichaccrues from reading the marked words alone. 

[Illustration:

THE EPIPHANY. 

with haste, and found Maryand Joseph, and the babelying in a manger. And whenthey had seen it, theymade known _abroad_ thesaying which told themconcerning this child. Andall they that heard it wonderedat those things whichwere told them by theshepherds. But Mary keptall these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praisingGod for all the things thatthey had heard and seen, as it was told unto them. And when eight days wereaccomplished for the circumcisingof the child, hisname was called JESUS, which was so named of theangel before he was conceivedin the womb. 

_The same Collect, Epistle, and Gospel shallserve for every day after, unto the Epiphany. _

_The Epiphany, _

_Or the Manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles. _

THE COLLECT. 

O God, who by the leadingof _a_ star didstmanifest thy only-begottenSon to the Gentiles, Mercifullygrant that we, whoknow thee now by faith, may after this life have thefruition of thy glorious Godheadthrough Jesus Christour Lord. _Amen. _

THE EPISTLE. Eph iii. I. 

For this cause, I Paulthe _prisoner_ of JesusChrist for you Gentiles, ifye have heard of the dispensationof the grace of God, which is given me toyou ward. How that by_revelation_ he _made_ _known_unto me the mystery (as Iwrote afore _in_ _few_ _words_, _whereby_, _when_ _ye_ _read_, _ye__may_ _understand_ my knowledgein _the_ _mystery_ ofChrist) _which_ in other ages_was_ not _made_ _known_ _unto__the_ _sons_ of men, as it isnow revealed unto his holyApostles and Prophets bythe Spirit, that the Gentilesshould be _fellow-heirs_, and _of_ the same body, andpartakers of his promisein Christ, by the Gospelwhereof I was made a minister, according to the gift of the_grace_ of God givenunto me by the effectualworking of his power. Untome, who am lessthan the least of all saints isthis grace given, that Ishould preach among theGentiles the unsearchableriches of Christ, and tomake all men see what isthe fellowship of the mystery, which from the beginning ofthe world hath been hid in God, who created all things by JesusChrist: to the intent that nowunto the principalities andpowers in heavenly]

It was but one of many, and you can imagine how difficult I found itto continue with the service and put the subject from my mind tillthe funeral was over and I could return to solitude and my third andfinal examination into the meaning of this mysterious gift. 

You can also imagine my wonder when by following out the plan I haveindicated, the subjoined sentences appeared, which, if somewhatincoherent at times--as could only be expected from the limitedmeans at his command--certainly convey a decided meaning, especially after receiving the punctuation and capital letters, which, after long study and some after-knowledge of affairs, I haveventured upon giving them:

"My sin is ever before me. 

"Correct, lest thou bring me to nothing. 

"Do those things which are requisite and necessary for a pure andhumble one, Grace by name, begotten by son, he born of first wifeand not obedient to the law abroad, a prisoner. 

"Revelation made known in few words whereby when ye read ye mayunderstand the mystery which was made known unto the sons, fellow-heirs of Grace. 

"Go and search diligently for the young child. 

"The higher powers resist and are a terror to good works. 

"Do that which is good and thou shalt have praise, minister of God. 

"Wherefore ye must needs be subject for wrath, for they areattending continually upon this thing. 

"Render therefore to all their dues; tribute to whom tribute; honorto whom honor. 

"Two possessed of devils, exceeding fierce of the household, hopeGrace may evermore be cast away. 

"They murmur against the good man of the house, and do not agree tomercifully defend against perils in the city an honest and goodheart. 

"My will leave(s) heritage to Grace. 

"The devil is against me. 

"Behold a woman grievously vexed with lost sheep of the house. 

"Then came she, saying: 'It is not mete to take the children's breadand to cast it to the dogs. Be unto, us an offering named asbecometh saints. For this ye know, that no unclean person hath anyinheritance because of disobedience and fellowship with works ofdarkness. For it is a shame to speak of those things which are doneof them in secret. '

"Beelzebub, the chief of devils, and sons cast out man; taketh fromhim all wherein he trusteth and divideth the spoils against me. 

"To purge conscience, the new testament means redemption of thetransgressions under first testament. 

"Said a devil: 'Father, ye do dishonor me. Say ye know him not, thyson, and suffer that a notable prisoner, his wife and child, werenot called by thy name. ' 'I will, ' said I. But I deny all here. Mysoul is sorrowful unto death, as I bear false witness against them. 

"The hand that betrayeth me is with me. 

"I appoint you to sift as wheat. 

"This must be accomplished, for the things concerning me have anend. 

"Words sent unto me out of prison, said: 'Daughter weep(s). Beseechthee graciously to fetch home to thee my child in tribulation. Forlo, the ungodly bend their bow and make ready their arrows withinthe quiver, that they may privily shoot at them which are true ofheart. Show I thy marvellous loving-kindness unto an undefined soulforsaken on every side of mother and friendly neighbors. Make hasteto deliver and save. I am clean forgotten, as a dead man out ofmind. I am become as a broken vessel. '

"Whilst I held my tongue, my bones consumed away daily. 

"I will inform thee and teach thee ill the way wherein thou shaltgo. 

"Blessed are folk chosen to inheritance; the children of them thatdwell under the king. 

"Poor Grac(e) come over the see (sea), unaware that I were sick. 

"Deliver my darling from the lions, so will I give thee thanks. 

"O let not them that are mine enemies triumph that hate me. 

"They imagine deceitful words against them that are quiet in theland. 

"Child is in thy land. 

"Look after daughter among honorable women. House in City of theEast Wind. 

[Footnote: Number omitted for obvious reasons. ]"--C-H-A-R-L-E-S-S-T-R-E-E-T. 

"Child I have looked upon not. 

"I promised with my lips and spake with my mouth, but God turned hismercy upon me, and upon health hath sent forth his voice, yea, andthat a mighty voice. 

"I sink, and the deep waters drown me. 

"Mine adversaries hath broken my heart. 

"Let the things that should have been for them be for the poorprisoner's posterity. 

"Break down the carved work and search out my will. 

"Walk to table under southwest borders of room, take the wood thathath in it operations of the law, and cleave. 

"For my days are gone like a shadow, and I am withered as grass. "

XXIII. 

TOO LATE. 

 What fear is this, which startles in our ears? --ROMEO AND JULIET. 

The conclusion which I drew from these sentences after a close andrepeated perusal of them was to this effect:

That Mr. Pollard instead of possessing only two sons, as wasgenerally supposed, had in reality been the father of three. Thatthe eldest, born in all probability before Mr. Pollard's removal tothis country (he was an Englishman by birth), had, by some act ofviolence or fraud, incurred the penalty of the law, and was even nowserving out a term of imprisonment in his native land. That this sonhad a daughter innocent and virtuous, whom he desired to commit tothe care of her grandfather; that he had even sent her over here forthat purpose, but that Mr. Pollard, taken down with the illnesswhich afterwards ended in death, had not only failed to be on handto receive her, but that, surrounded and watched by his wife andsons, who, in their selfish pride, were determined to ignore allclaims of kinship on the part of one they despised, he had not evenhad the chance to take such measures for her safety and happiness ashis love and regard for her lonely and desolate position seemed todemand. That the will, whose concealment in his desk he had managedto describe, had been made in recompense for this neglect, and thatby it she would receive that competence and acknowledgment of herrights which the hatred of her unscrupulous relatives wouldotherwise deny her. 

And this was the will I had weakly given up, and it was upon thehead of this innocent child that the results of my weakness mustfall. 

When I first recognized this fact I felt stupefied. That I, DavidBarrows, should be the cause of misery and loss to a guileless andpure soul! I could not realize it, nor believe that consequences soserious and irremediable could follow upon an act into which I hadbeen betrayed by mere cowardice. But soon, too soon, the matterbecame plain to me. I saw what I had done and was overwhelmed, for Icould no longer doubt that the real will had been destroyed and thatthe one which had been returned to me was a substituted one, perhapsthe very same which I had seen among the papers of Mr. Pollard'sdesk. 

The result of my remorse was an immediate determination on my partto search out the young girl, left in this remarkable manner to mycare, and by my efforts in her behalf do what I could to remedy thegreat evil which, through my instrumentality, had befallen her. 

The purpose was no sooner taken than I prepared to carry it out. S---- could hold no duty for me now paramount to this. I was a fatherand my child lingered solitary and uncared-for in a strange place. Itook the first train the next morning for the "city of the east-wind. "

The hour at which I arrived at number -- Charles Street, was one ofdeep agitation to me, I had thought so continually upon my journeyof the young waif I was seeking. Would she be the embodiment ofingenuousness which her grandfather had evidently believed her tobe? Should I find her forgiving and tractable; or were theexpectations I had formed false in their character and foundedrather upon Mr. Pollard's wishes than any knowledge he had of herdisposition and acquirements?

The house was, as far as I could judge from the exterior, of a mostrespectable character, and the lady who answered my somewhatimpatient summons was one of those neat and intelligent-lookingpersons who inspire confidence at first glance. To my inquiries asto whether there was living in her house a young English lady by thename of Grace--I did not like to venture upon that of Pollard, therebeing some phrases in the communication I have shown you which ledme to think that Mr. Pollard had changed his name on coming to thiscountry, --she gave me a look of such trouble and anxiety that I wasinstantly struck with dismay. 

"Miss Merriam?" she exclaimed; then, as I bowed with seemingacquiescence, continued in a tone that conveyed still more disquietthan her face, "She _was_ here; but she is gone, sir; a womantook her away. "

A woman! I must have grown pale, for she swung wide the door andasked me to come in. 

"We can talk better in the hall, " she remarked, and pointed to achair into which I half fell. 

"I have a great interest in this young lady, " I observed; "in short, I am her guardian. Can you tell me the name of the person with whomshe went away, or where she can be found now?"

"No sir, " she answered, with the same expression of trouble. "Thewoman gave us no name nor address, and the young lady seemed toomuch frightened to speak. We have felt anxious ever since she went, sir; for the letter she showed us from the captain of the ship whichbrought her over, told us to take great care of her. We did not knowshe had a guardian or we should not have let her go. The womanseemed very pleasant, and paid all the bills, but----"

"But what?" I cried, too anxious to bear a moment's delay. 

"She did not lift her veil, and this seemed to me a suspiciouscircumstance. "

Torn with apprehension and doubt, I staggered to my feet. 

"Tell me all about this woman, " I demanded. "Give me every detail youcan remember. I have a dreadful fear that it is some one who shouldnever have seen this child. "

"Well, sir, she came at about eleven in the morning----"

"What day?" I interrupted her to ask. 

"Thursday, " she replied, "a week ago yesterday. "

The very day after the will was returned to me. If she were thewoman I feared, she had evidently lost no time. 

"She asked for Miss Merriam, " the lady before me pursued, evidentlygreatly pitying my distress, "and as we knew no reason why our youngboarder should not receive visitors, we immediately proceeded tocall her down. But the woman, with a muttered excuse, said she wouldnot trouble us; that she knew the child well, and would go right upto her room if we would only tell her where it was. This we did andshould have thought no more of the matter, if in a little while shehad not reappeared in the hall, and, inquiring the way to my room, told me that Miss Merriam had decided to leave my house; that shehad offered her a home with her, and that they were to goimmediately. 

"I was somewhat taken aback by this, and inquired if I could not seeMiss Merriam. She answered 'What for?' and when I hinted that moneywas owing me for her board, she drew out her pocket-book and paid meon the spot. I could say nothing after this, 'But are you arelative, ma'am?' to which her quick and angry negative, hidden, however, next moment, by a suave acknowledgment of friendship, gaveme my first feeling of alarm. But I did not dare to ask her anyfurther questions, much as I desired to know who she was and whereshe was going to take the young girl. There was something in hermanner that overawed me, at the same time it filled me with dread. But if I could not speak to her I meant to have some words with MissMerriam before she left the house. This the woman seemed to wish toprevent, for she stood close by me when the young girl came down, and when I stepped forward to say good-by, pushed me somewhat rudelyaside and took Miss Merriam by the arm. 'Come, my dear, ' she cried, and would have hurried her out without a word. But I would not havethat. The sorrow and perplexity in Miss Merriam's face were toomarked for me to let her depart in silence. So I persisted inspeaking, and after saying how sorry I was to have her go, asked herif she would not leave her new address with me in case any lettersshould come for her. Her answer was a frightened look at hercompanion who immediately spoke for her. 'I have told you, ' saidshe, 'that Miss Merriam goes home with me. It is not likely she willhave any letters, but if she should, you can send them to the placementioned on this card, ' and she pulled a visiting card from her bagand gave it to me, after which she immediately went away, draggingMiss Merriam after her. "

"And you have that card?" I cried. "Why did you not show it to me atonce?"

"O, sir, " she responded with a sorrowful shake of her head, "it wasa fraud, a deception. The card was not hers but another person's, and its owner don't even know Miss Merriam. "

"How do you know this?" I asked. "Have you seen this other person?"

"Yes, sir, I had occasion to, for a letter did come for Miss Merriamonly a short time after she left. So thinking it a good opportunityto see where she had gone, I carried it to the address which was onthe card given me, and found as I have told you that it was not thesame lady at all who lived there, and that there was not only noMiss Merriam in the house but that her name was not even knownthere. "

"And you saw the lady herself?"

"Yes, sir. "

"And are you sure it was not the same as the one who was here?"

"Oh yes; she was short and stout and had a frank way of speaking, totally unlike that of the veiled woman. "

"And the latter? How was she shaped? You have not told me. "

I asked this in trembling tones. Though I was sure what the answerwould be, I dreaded to have my fears confirmed. 

"Well, sir, she was tall and had a full commanding figure, veryhandsome to look at. She was dressed all in gray and had a way ofholding her head that made an ordinary sized woman like myself feelvery small and insignificant. Yet she was not agreeable in herappearance; and I am sure that if I could have seen her face Ishould have disliked her still more, though I do not doubt it was inkeeping with her figure, and very handsome. "

I could have no doubts as to whom this described, yet I made onefinal effort to prove my suspicions false. 

"You have given me the description of a person of some pretensionsto gentility, " I remarked, "yet from the first you have forborne tospeak of her as a lady. "

"An involuntary expression of my distrust and dislike I suppose. Then her dress was very plain, and the veil she wore quite common. "

I thought of the dress and veil which my self-designated "sister"had worn in the visit she paid to my rooms and wondered if theywould not answer to the description of these. 

"What was the color of her veil?" I inquired. 

"Dark blue. "

That was the color of the one which had been worn by my mysteriousvisitor, as I had found from subsequent questions put to myneighbor, and I could no longer have the least uncertainty as to whothe woman was who had carried off Mr. Pollard's grandchild. Sick atheart and fearing I scarcely knew what, I asked for the letter whichhad been left for Miss Merriam, and receiving it from the hand ofthis amiable woman in whom I appeared to have inspired as muchconfidence as her former visitor had alarm, I tore it open, and inmy capacity of guardian read what it contained. Here it is:

MY DEAR MISS MERRIAM:

The gentleman, in the hope of whose protection you came to thiscountry, is dead. I am his son and naturally feel it incumbent uponme to look after your interests. I am therefore, coming shortly tosee you; but till I do so, remember that you are not to receive anyone who may call, no matter what their name, sex, or apparentbusiness. If you disobey me in this regard you may do yourself apermanent injury. Wait till my card is brought you, and then judgefor yourself whether I am a person in whom you can trust. Hoping tofind you in good health, and as happy as your bereaved conditionwill admit of, I remain sincerely yours, DWIGHT GAYLORD POLLARD. 

"Ah, he wrote a day too late!" I involuntarily exclaimed; thenperceiving the look of curiosity which this unguarded expression hadawakened on the face of my companion, folded the letter up and putit quietly in my pocket. "It is an unhappy piece of business, " I nowobserved, "but I shall hope to find Miss Merriam very soon, andplace her where she will be both safe and happy. "

And feeling that I ought to know something of the appearance anddisposition of one I so fully intended to befriend, I inquiredwhether she was a pretty girl. 

The reply I received was almost enthusiastic. 

"I do not know as you would call her pretty, sir, she is so pale andfragile; but if her features are not regular nor her color good, shehas something unusually attractive in her face, and I have heardmore than one gentleman here say, 'Miss Merriam is lovely. '"

"And her manners?"

"Very modest, sir, and timid. She seems to have a secret sorrow, forI have often seen her eyes fill when she thought no one was lookingat her. "

"Do you know her history or connections?"

"No, sir. "

"Then she never talked to you about herself?"

"No, sir; though so young, she was strangely like a woman in manythings. An uncommonly sweet child, sir, an uncommonly sweet child. "

I felt the sting of a great reproach in my heart, and, anxious tohide the depth of my emotion, rose to leave. But the good woman, detaining me, Inquired what she should do with Miss Merriam's trunk. 

"What, " I exclaimed, "is that still here?" "Yes, sir; she took, asI noticed, a bag of some size with her, but she left her trunk. Inthe flurry of their departure I forgot to speak about it. I haveexpected an expressman after it every day, but none has come. Thatis another reason why I have felt anxious. "

"I do not wonder, " I exclaimed. "Sometimes, " she observed, "I havethought it was my duty to speak to the police about the matter; itwould be such a dreadful thing if any harm had come to her. "

"I will speak to the police if necessary, " said I. And determined asI had never been before in my life, I left the house and proceededdirectly to the depot, where I took the first train for S----. 

XXIV. 

CONFRONTED. 

 Stop up the access and passage to remorse; That no compunctious visitings of nature Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between The effect and it! --MACBETH. 

Being in the confessional, I have not forborne to tell the worst ofmyself; I will not, therefore, hesitate to tell the best. When onthat very afternoon I entered Mrs. Pollard's grounds, it was with aresolve to make her speak out, that had no element of weakness init. Not her severest frown, nor that diabolical look from Guy's eye, which had hitherto made me quail, should serve to turn me aside frommy purpose, or thwart those interests of right and justice which Ifelt were so deeply at stake. If my own attempt, backed by thedisclosures which had come to me through the prayer-book I hadreceived from Mr. Pollard, should fail, then the law should takehold of the matter and wrench the truth from this seeminglyrespectable family, even at the risk of my own happiness and theconsideration which I had always enjoyed in this town. 

The house, when I approached it, struck me with an odd sense ofchange. I did not stop at the time to inquire why this was, but Ihave since concluded, in thinking over the subject, that the parlorcurtains must have been drawn up, something which I do not rememberever having seen there before or since. The front door also wasajar, and when I rang the bell it was so speedily answered that Ihad hardly time to summon up the expression of determination which Ifelt would alone gain me admittance to the house. But my presenceinstead of seeming unwelcome, seemed to be almost expected by theservant who opened to me. He bowed, smiled, and that, too, in almosta holiday fashion; and when I would have asked for Mrs. Pollard, interrupted me by a request to lay off my overcoat in a side room, which he courteously pointed out to me. 

There was something in this and in the whole aspect of the placewhich astonished me greatly. If this sombre dwelling with its richbut dismally dark halls and mysterious recesses could be said toever wear an air of cheer, the attempt certainly had been made toeffect this to-day. From the hand of the bronze figure that cappedthe newel-post hung wreaths of smilax and a basket full of the mostexquisite flowers; while from a half-open door at my right came astreak of positive light, and the sound of several voices animatedwith some sentiment that was strangely out of accord with the solemnscene to which this very room had so lately been a witness. Can theybe having a reception? I asked myself; and almost ashamed of thesurmise, ever in the house of one so little respected, I, nevertheless, turned to the civil servant before me and remarked:

"There is something going on here of which I was ignorant. Is Mrs. Pollard entertaining guests to-day?"

"Did you not know, sir?" he inquired. "I thought you had beeninvited, perhaps; Miss Pollard is going to be married thisafternoon. "

Miss Pollard going to be married! Could any thing have been worse?Shocked, I drew back; Miss Pollard was a beautiful girl and totallyinnocent, in as far as I knew, of any of the wrong which hadcertainly been perpetrated by some members of her family. It wouldnever do to mortify her or to mar the pleasure of her wedding-day byany such scene as my errand probably involved. She must be savedsorrow even if her mother--But at that instant the vague butpathetic form of another young girl flitted in imagination before myeyes, and I asked myself if I had not already done enough injury tothe helpless and the weak, without putting off for another hour eventhat attempt at rescue, which the possibly perilous position of Mr. Pollard's grandchild so imperatively demanded. As I thought this andremembered that the gentleman to whom Miss Pollard was engaged wasan Englishman of lordly connections and great wealth, I felt myspirit harden and my purpose take definite form. Turning, thereforeto the servant before me I inquired if Mrs. Pollard was above orbelow; and learning that she had not yet come down-stairs, I tore aleaf out of my note-book and wrote on it the following lines:

I know your daughter is on the point of descending to her marriage. I know also that you do not want to see me. But the interests ofMiss Merriam demand that you should do so, and that immediately. Ifyou do not come, I shall instantly enter the parlor and tell a storyto the assembled guests which will somewhat shake your equanimitywhen you come to appear before them. My moral courage is not to bejudged by my physical, madam, and I shall surely do this thing. 

David Barrows

The servant, who still lingered before me, took this note. 

"Give it to Mrs. Pollard, " I requested. "Tell her it is upon amatter of pressing importance, but do not mention my name, if youplease; she will find it in the note. " And seeing by the man's facethat my wishes would be complied with, I took up my stand in acertain half-curtained recess and waited with loudly beating heartfor the issue. 

She came. I saw her when she first put foot on the stairs, andnotwithstanding my strong antipathy, I could not repress a certainfeeling of admiration from mixing with the dread the least sight ofher always occasioned me. Her form, which was of the finest, wasclad in heavy black velvet, without a vestige of ornament to mar itssombre richness, and her hair, now verging towards gray, was piledup in masses on the top of her haughty head, adding inches to aheight that in itself was almost queenly. But her face! and hercruel eye and the smile of her terrible lip. I grew cold as I sawher approach, but I did not move from my place or meditate the leastchange in the plan I had laid for her subjection. 

She stopped just two feet from where I stood, and without the leastbend of her head or any gesture of greeting, looked at me. I bore itwith quietude, and even answered glance with glance, until I saw herturn pale with the first hint of dismay which she had possibly everbetrayed; then I bowed and waited for her to speak. She did so witha hiss like a serpent. 

"What does this mean?" she cried. "What do you hope to gain from me, that you presume to write me such a letter on an occasion likethis?"

"Madam, " I rejoined, "you are in haste, and so am I; so, withoutexpressing any opinion of the actions which have driven me to thisstep, I will merely say that I want but one thing of you, but that Iwant immediately, without hesitation and without delay. I allude toMiss Merriam's address, which you have, and which you must give meon the spot. "

She shrank. This cold, confident, imperious woman shrank, and thisexpression of emotion, while it showed she was not entirely withoutsensation, awoke within me a strange fear, since how dark must beher secret, if she could tremble at the thought of its discovery. She must have seen that I was affected, for her confidenceimmediately returned. 

"I do not know, --" she began to say. 

But I mercilessly interrupted her. 

"But _I_ know, " said I, with an emphasis on the pronoun, "andknow so much that I am sure the company within would be glad to hearwhat I could tell them. Mr. Harrington, for instance, who I hear isof a very honorable family in England, would be pleased to learn--"

"Hush!" she whispered, seizing my wrist with a hand of steel. "If Imust tell you I will, but no more words from you, do you hear, nomore words. "

I took out my note-book and thrust it into her hand. 

"Write, " I, commanded; "her full address, mind you, that I may findher before the day is over. "

She gave me a strange glance but took the book and pencil without aword. 

"There!" she cried, hurriedly writing a line and passing the bookback to me. "And now go; our time for further conversation will comelater. "

But I did not stir. I read aloud the line she had given me and thensaid:

"Madam, this address is either a true or a false one. Which, I shallsoon know. For upon leaving here, I shall proceed immediately to thetelegraph-office, from which I shall telegraph to the police stationnearest to this address, for the information I desire. I shallreceive an answer within the hour; and if I find you have deceivedme I shall not hesitate to return here, and so suitably accompaniedthat you will not only open to me, but rectify whatever mistake youmay have made. Your guests will not be gone in an hour, " Iruthlessly added. 

Her face, which had been pale, turned ghastly. Glancing up at aclock which stood a few feet from the recess in which we stood, shegave an involuntary shudder and looked about for Guy. 

"Your son, fertile as he is in resources, cannot help you, " Iremarked. "There is no pit of darkness here; besides I have learneda lesson, madam; and not death itself would deter me now from doingmy duty by this innocent child. So if you wish to change thisaddress--"

I stopped; a strain of music had risen from the parlor. It wasMendelssohn's Wedding March. Mrs. Pollard started, cast a hurriedlook above and tore the note-book out of my hands. 

"You are a fiend, " she hissed, and hurriedly scratching out thewords she had written, she wrote another number and name. "You willfind she is there, " she cried, "and since I have complied with yourdesire, you will have no need to return here till you bring theyoung girl _home_. "

The emphasis she placed on the last word startled me. I looked ather and wondered if Medea wore such a countenance when she stabbedher children to the heart. But it flashed and was gone, and the nextmoment she had moved away from my side and I had stepped to thedoor. As I opened it to pass out I caught one glimpse of the brideas she came down the stairs. She looked exquisite in her simplewhite dress, and her face was wreathed in smiles. 

XXV. 

THE FINAL BLOW. 

 It was a deadly blow! A blow like that Which swooping unawares from out the night, Dashes a man from some high starlit peak Into a void of cold and hurrying waves. 

The distrust which I felt for Mrs. Pollard was so great that I wasstill uncertain as to whether she had given me the right address. Itherefore proceeded to carry out my original design and went at onceto the telegraph-office. The message I sent was peremptory and inthe course of half an hour this answer was returned. 

Person described, found. Condition critical. Come at once. 

There was a train that left in fifteen minutes. Though I had justcome from Boston, I did not hesitate to return at once. By sixo'clock of that day I stood before the house to which I had beendirected. My first sight of it struck me like death. God, what wasI about to encounter! What sort of a spot was this, and what was thedoom that had befallen the child committed to my care. Numb withhorror, I rang the door-bell with difficulty, and when I wasadmitted by a man in the guise of an officer, I felt something likean instantaneous relief, though I saw by his countenance that he hadany thing but good news to give me. 

"Are you the gentleman who telegraphed from S----?" he asked. 

I bowed, not feeling able to speak. 

"Relative or friend?" he went on. 

"Friend, " I managed to reply. 

"Do you guess what has happened?" he inquired. 

"I dare not, " I answered, with a fearful look about me on walls thatmore than confirmed my suspicions. 

"Miss Merriam is dead, " he answered. 

I drew a deep breath. It was almost a relief. 

"Come in, " he said, and opened the door of a room at our right. Whenwe were seated and I had by careful observation made sure we werealone, I motioned for him to go on. He immediately complied. "Whenwe received your telegram, we sent a man here at once. He had somedifficulty in entering and still more in finding the young lady, whowas hidden in the most remote part of the house. But by perseveranceand some force he at last obtained entrance to her room where hefound--pardon my abruptness, it will be a mercy to you for me to cutthe story short--that he had been ordered here too late; the younglady had taken poison and was on the point of death. "

The horror in my face reflected itself faintly in his. 

"I do not know how she came to this house, " he proceeded; "but shemust have been a person of great purity and courage; for though shedied almost immediately upon his entrance, she had time to say thatshe had preferred death to the fate that threatened her, and that noone would mourn her for she had no friends in this country, and herfather would never hear how she died. "

I sprang wildly to my feet. 

"Did she mention no names?" I asked. 

"Did she not say who brought her to this hell of hells, or murmureven with her dying breath, one word that would guide us in fixingthis crime upon the head of her who is guilty of it?"

"No, " answered the officer, "no; but you are right in thinking itwas a woman, but what woman, the creature below evidently does notknow. "

Feeling that the situation demanded thought, I composed myself tothe best of my ability. 

"I am the Rev. David Barrows of S----, " said I, "and my interest inthis young girl is purely that of a humanitarian. I have never seenher. I do not even know how long she has been in this country. But Ilearned that a girl by the name of Grace Merriam had been beguiledfrom her boarding-place here in this city, and fearing that someterrible evil had befallen her, I telegraphed to the police to lookher up. "

The officer bowed. 

"The number of her boarding-place?" asked he. 

I told him, and not waiting for any further questions, demanded ifI might not see the body of the young girl. 

He led me at once to the room in which it lay, and stoodrespectfully at the door while I went in alone. The sight I saw hasnever left me. Go where I will, I see ever before me that pure youngface, with its weary look hushed in the repose of death. It hauntsme, it accuses me. It asks me where is the noble womanhood thatmight have blossomed from this sweet bud, had it not been for mypusillanimity and love of life? But when I try to answer, I amstopped by that image of death, with its sealed lips and closed eyesnever to open again--never, never, whatever my longing, my anguish, or my despair. 

But the worst shock was to come yet. As I left the room and wentstumbling down the stairs, I was met by the officer and led againinto the apartment I had first entered on the ground floor. 

"There is some one here, " he began, "whom you may like to question. "

Thinking it to be the woman of the house, I advanced, thoughsomewhat reluctantly, when a sight met my eyes that made me fallback in astonishment and dread. It was the figure of a woman dressedall in gray, with a dark-blue veil drawn tightly over her features. 

"Good God!" I murmured, "who is this?"

"The woman who brought her here, " observed the officer. "Farrell, there, has just found her. "

And then I perceived darkly looming in the now heavy dusk the formof another man, whose unconscious and business-like air proclaimedhim to be a member of the force. 

"Her name is Sophie Preston, " the officer continued, motioning tothe woman to throw up her veil. "She is a hard character, and someday will have to answer for her many crimes. "

Meanwhile, I stood rooted to the ground; the name, the face werestrange, and neither that of her whom I had inwardly accused of thiswrong. 

"I should like to ask the woman--" I commenced, but here my eyesfell upon her form. It was tall and it was full, but it was not byany means handsome. A fearful possibility crossed my mind. Approaching the woman closely, I modified my question. 

"Are you the person who took this young lady from her boardingplace?" I asked. 

"Yes, sir, " was the reply, uttered in smooth but by no meanscultivated tones. 

"And by what arts did you prevail upon this young and confidingcreature to leave her comfortable home and go out into the streetswith you?"

She did not speak, she smiled. O heaven! what depths of depravityopened before me in that smile!

"Answer!" the officer cried. 

"Well, sir, I told her, " she now replied, "that I was such and sucha relative, grandmother, I think I said; and being a dutifulchild--"

But I was now up close to her side, and, leaning to her very ear Iinterrupted her. 

"Tell me on which side of the hall was the parlor into which youwent. "

"The right, " she answered, without the least show of hesitation. 

"Wrong, " I returned; "you have never been there. "

She looked frightened. 

"O, sir, " she whispered, "hush! hush! If you know--" And there shestopped; and instantly cried aloud, in a voice that warned me Ishould make nothing by pressing my suspicions at this time and inthis place, "I lured the young lady from her home and I brought herhere. If it is a criminal act I shall have to answer for it. We allrun such risks now and then. "

To me, with my superior knowledge of all the mysteries which laybehind this pitiful tragedy, her meaning was evident. Whether shehad received payment sufficient for the punishment possibly awaitingher, or whether she had been frightened into assuming theresponsibility of another, she was evidently resolved to sustain herrole of abductress to the end. 

The look she gave me at the completion of her words intensified thisconviction, and not feeling sufficiently sure of my duty to disputeher at the present time, I took advantage of her determination, andoutwardly, if not inwardly, accepted her confession as true. 

I therefore retreated from her side, and being anxious to avoid thecoroner, who was likely to enter at any minute, I confined myselfto asking a few leading questions, which being answered in a mannerseemingly frank, I professed myself satisfied with the result, andhastily withdrew. 

XXVI. 

A FELINE TOUCH. 

 Thou hast not half the power to do me harm, as I have to be hurt. --OTHELLO. 

The tumult in my mind and heart were great, but my task was not yetcompleted, and till it was I could neither stop to analyze myemotions nor measure the depths of darkness into which I had beenplunged by an occurrence as threatening to my peace as it waspitiful to my heart. Mrs. Pollard was to be again, interviewed, andto that formidable duty every thing bowed, even my need of rest andthe demand which my whole body made for refreshment. 

It was eight o'clock when I stood for the second time that day ather door; and, contrary to my expectations, I found as littledifficulty in entering as I had before. Indeed, the servant was evenmore affable and obliging than he had been in the afternoon, andpersisted in showing me into a small room off the parlor, now emptyof guests, and going at once for Mrs. Pollard. 

"She will see you, sir, I am sure, " was his last remark as he wentout of the door, "for, though she is so very tired, she told me ifyou called to ask you to wait. "

I looked around on the somewhat desolate scene that presenteditself, and doubtingly shook my head. This seeming submission on thepart of a woman so indomitable as she, meant something. Either shewas thoroughly frightened or else she meditated some treachery. Ineither case I needed all my self-command. Happily, the scene I hadjust quitted was yet vividly impressed upon my mind, and while itremained so, I felt as strong and unassailable as I had once feltweak and at the mercy of my fears. 

I did not have to wait long. Almost immediately upon the servant'scall, Mrs. Pollard entered the room and stood before me. Her firstglance told me all. She was frightened. 

"Well?" she said, in a hard whisper, and with a covert look aroundas if she feared the very walls might hear us. "You have found thegirl and you have come to ask for money. It is a reasonable request, and if you do not ask too much you shall have it. I think it willheal all wounds. "

My indignation flared up through all my horror and dismay. 

"Money?" I cried, "money? what good will money do the dead; you havekilled her, madam. "

"Killed her?" No wonder she grew pale, no wonder she half gasped. "Killed her?" she repeated. 

"Yes, " I returned, not giving her time to think, much less speak. "Lured by you to a den of evil, she chose to die rather than live onin disgrace. The woman who lent you her clothes has been found, and--I see I have reached you at last, " I broke in. "I thought God'sjustice would work. "

"I--I--" She had to moisten her lips before she could speak. "Idon't understand what you mean. You say I lured her, that is a lie. I never took her to this den of evil as you call it. "

"But you knew the street and number of the house, and you gave herinto the hand of the woman who did take her there. "

"I knew the number of the house but I did not know it was a den ofevil. I thought it was a respectable place, cheaper than the one shewas in. I am sorry--"

"Madam, " I interrupted, "you will find it difficult to make theworld believe _you_ so destitute of good sense as not to knowthe character of the house to which such a woman as you entrustedher with would be likely to lead her. Besides, how will you accountfor the fact that, you wore a dress precisely like that of thiscreature when you enticed Miss Merriam away from her home. Is thereany jury who will believe it to be a coincidence, especially whenthey learn that you kept your veil down in the presence of every onethere?"

"But what proof have you that it was I who went for Miss Merriam?The word of this woman whom you yourself call a _creature?_"

"The word of the landlady, who described Miss Merriam's visitor astall and of a handsome figure, and my own eyesight, which assured methat the woman who came with her to her place of death was notespecially tall nor of a handsome figure. Besides, I talked to thelatter, and found she could tell me nothing of the interior of thehouse where Miss Merriam boarded. She did not even know if theparlors were on the right or the left side of the hall. "

"Indeed!" came in Mrs. Pollard's harshest and most cutting tones. But the attempted sarcasm failed. She was shaken to the core, andthere was no use in her trying to hide it. I did not, therefore, seek to break the silence which followed the utterance of thisbitter exclamation; for the sooner she understood the seriousnessof her position the sooner I should see what my own duty was. Suddenly she spoke, but not in her former tones. The wily woman hadsounded the depths of the gulf upon the brink of which she hadinadvertently stumbled, and her voice, which had been harsh? andbiting, now took on all the softness which hypocrisy could give it. 

But her words were sarcastic as ever. 

"I asked you a moment ago, " said she, "what money you wanted. I donot ask that now, as the girl is dead and a clergyman is notsupposed to take much interest in filthy lucre. But you wantsomething, or you would not be here. Is it revenge? It is asentiment worthy of your cloth, and I can easily understand thedesire you may have to indulge in it. "

"Madam, " I cried, "can you think of no other motive than a desirefor vengeance or gain? Have you never heard of such a thing asjustice?"

"And do you intend--" she whispered. 

"There will be an inquest held, " I continued. "I shall be called asa witness, and so doubtless will you. Are you prepared to answer alland every question that will be put you?"

"An inquest?" Her face was quite ghastly now. "And have you takenpains to publish abroad my connection with this girl?"

"Not yet. "

"She is known, however, to be a grandchild of Mr. Pollard?"

"No, " said I. 

"What is known?" she inquired. 

"That she was Mr. Pollard's protege. "

"And you, you alone, hold the key to her real history?"

"Yes, " I assented, "I. "

She advanced upon me with all the venom of her evil nature sparklingin her eye. I met the glance unmoved. For a reason I will hereafterdivulge, I no longer felt any fear of what either she or hers mightdo. 

"I alone know her history and what she owes to you, " I repeated. She instantly fell back. Whether she understood me or not, she sawthat her hold upon me was gone, that the cowardice she had beenwitness to was dead, and that she, not I, must plead for mercy. 

"Mr. Barrows, " said she; "what is this girl to you that you shouldsacrifice the living to her memory?"

"Mrs. Pollard, " I returned with equal intensity, "shall I tell you?She is the victim of my pusillanimity. That is what she is to me, and that is what makes her memory more to me than the peace or goodname of her seemingly respectable murderers. "

Was it the word I used or did some notion of the effect which a trueremorse can have upon a conscientious soul, pierce her cold heart atlast? I cannot tell; I only know that she crouched for an instant asif a blow had fallen upon her haughty head, then rising erectagain--she was a proud woman still and would be to her death, whatever her fate or fortune--she gave me an indescribable look, and in smothered tones remarked:

"Your sympathies are with the innocent. That is well; now come withme, I have another innocence to show you, and after you have seen ittell me whether innocence living or innocence dead has the mostclaim upon your pity and regard. " And before I realized what she wasdoing, she had led me across the room to a window, from which shehastily pulled aside the curtain that hung across it. 

The sight that met my eyes was like a dream of fairyland let intothe gloom and terror of a nightmare. The window overlooked theconservatory, and the latter being lighted, a vision of tropicalverdure and burning blossoms flashed before us. But it was not uponthis wealth of light and color that the gaze rested in the fullestastonishment and delight. It was upon two figures seated in themidst of these palm-trees and cacti, whose faces, turned the onetowards the other, made a picture of love and joy that the coldestheart must feel, and the most stolid view with delight. It was thebridegroom and his bride, Mr. Harrington and the beautiful AgnesPollard. 

I felt the hand that lay upon my arm tremble. 

"Have you the heart to dash such happiness as that?" murmured avoice in my ear. 

Was it Mrs. Pollard speaking? I had never heard such a tone as thatfrom her before. Turning, I looked at her. Her face was as changedas her voice; there was not only softness in it but appeal. It wasno longer Mrs. Pollard who stood beside me, but _the mother_. 

"_She_ has never made a mistake, " continued this terriblebeing, all the more terrible to me now that I saw capabilities offeeling in her. "She is young and has her whole life before her. Ifyou pursue the claims of justice as you call them, her future willbe wrecked. It is no fool she has married but a proud man, theproudest of his race. If he had known she had for a brother one whomhis own country had sentenced to perpetual imprisonment, he wouldnot have married her had his love been ten times what it is. It wasbecause her family was honored and could bestow a small fortune uponher in dowry that he braved his English prejudices at all. What thendo you think would be the result if he knew that not only was herbrother a convict, but her mother----" She did not finish, but brokein upon herself with a violence that partook of frenzy. "He wouldfirst ignore her, then hate her. I know these Englishmen well. "

It was true. The happiness or misery of this young creature hungupon my decision. A glance at her husband's face made this evident. He would love her while he could be proud of her; he would hate herthe moment her presence suggested shame or opprobrium. 

My wily antagonist evidently saw I was impressed, for her face grewstill softer and her tone more insinuating. 

"She was her father's darling, " she whispered. "He could never bearto see a frown upon her face or a tear in her eye. Could he know nowwhat threatened her do you think he would wish you to drag disgraceupon her head for the sake of justice to a being who is dead?"

I did not reply. The truth was I felt staggered. 

"See what an exquisite creature she is, " the mother now murmured inmy ear. "Look at her well--she can bear it--and tell me where in theworld you will find beauty more entrancing or a nature lovelier andmore enticing?"

"Madam, " said I, turning upon her with a severity the moment seemedto deserve, "In a den of contamination, amid surroundings such as itwill not do for me to mention even before her who could make use ofthem to destroy the innocence that trusted in her, there lies thedead body of one as pure, as lovely, and as attractive as this;indeed her beauty is more winning for it has not the stamp ofworldliness upon it. "

The mother before me grew livid. Her brows contracted and sheadvanced upon me with a menacing gesture almost as if she wouldstrike me. In all my experience of the world and of her I had neverseen such rage; it was all but appalling. Involuntarily I raised myhand, in defence. 

But she had already remembered her position and by a violent changenow stood before me calm and collected as of old. 

"You have been injured by me and have acquired the right to insultme, " cried she. Then as I made no move, said: "It is not of the deadwe were speaking. It was of her, Samuel Pollard's _child_. Doyou intend to ruin her happiness or do you not? Speak, for it is aquestion I naturally desire to have settled. "

"Madam, " I now returned, edging away from that window with itsseductive picture of youthful joy, "before I can settle it I mustknow certain facts. Not till I understand how you succeeded inenticing her from her home, and by what means you transferred herinto the care of the vile woman who took your place, will Iundertake to consider the possibility of withholding thedenunciation which it is in my power to make. "

"And you expect me to tell--" she began. 

"Every thing, " I finished, firmly. 

She smiled with a drawing in of her lips that was feline. Then sheglared; then she looked about her and approached nearer to me byanother step. 

"I wish I could kill you, " her look said. "I wish by the lifting ofmy finger you would fall dead. " But her lips made use of no suchlanguage. She was caught in the toils, and lioness as she was, foundherself forced to obey the will that ensnared her. 

"You want facts; well, you shall have them. You want to know how Imanaged to induce Miss Merriam to leave the house where my husbandhad put her. It is a simple question. Was I not her grandfather'swife, and could I not be supposed to know what his desires wereconcerning her?"

"And the second fact?"

She looked at me darkly. 

"You are very curious, " said she. 

"I am, " said I. 

Her baleful smile repeated itself. 

"You think that by these confessions I will place myself in aposition which will make it impossible for me, to press my request. You do not understand me, sir. Had I committed ten times the evil Ihave done, that would not justify you in wantonly destroying thehappiness of the innocent. "

"I wish to know the facts, " I said. 

"She went with me to a respectable eating house, " Mrs. Pollard atonce explained. "Leave her to eat her lunch, I went to a place nearby, where the woman you saw, met me by appointment, and putting onthe clothes I had worn, went back for the girl in my stead. As I hadtaken pains not to raise my veil except just at the moment when Iwanted to convince her I was her natural guardian, the woman hadonly to hold her tongue to make the deception successful. That shedid this is evident from the result. Is there any thing more youwould like to know?"

"Yes, " I replied, inwardly quaking before this revelation of aninconceivable wickedness, yet steadily resolved to probe it to thevery depths. "What did you hope to gain by this deliberate plan ofdestruction? The girl's death, or simply her degradation?"

The passion in this woman's soul found its vent at last. 

"I hoped to lose her; to blot her out of my path--and hers, " shemore gently added, pointing with a finger that trembled with morethan one fierce emotion, at the daughter for whom she had sacrificedso much. "I did not think the girl would die; I am no murderesswhatever intimation you may make to that effect. I am simply amother. "

A mother! O horrible! I looked at her and recoiled. That such a oneas this should have the right to lay claim to so holy a title andasperse it thus!

She viewed my emotion but made no sign of understanding it. Herwords poured forth like a stream of burning liquid. 

"Do you realize what this girl's living meant? It meant recognition, and consequently disgrace and a division of our property, the lossof my daughter's dowry, and of all the hopes she had built on it. Was I, who had given to Samuel Pollard the very money by means ofwhich he had made his wealth, to stand this? Not if a hundreddaughters of convicts must perish. "

"And your sons?"

"What of them?"

"Had they no claim upon your consideration. When you plunged theminto this abyss of greed and deceit did no phantom of their lostmanhood rise and confront you with an unanswerable reproach?"

But she remained unmoved. 

"My sons are men; they can take care of themselves. "

"But Dwight--"

Her self-possession vanished. 

"Hush!" she whispered with a quick look around her. "Do not mentionhim. I have sent him away an hour ago but he may have come back. Ido not trust him. "

This last clause she uttered beneath her breath and with a spasmodicclutch of her hand which showed she spoke involuntarily. I was movedat this. I began to hope that Dwight at least, was not all that hismother would have him. 

"And yet I must speak of him, " said I, taking out the letter he hadwritten to Miss Merriam. "This letter addressed to one you have sosuccessfully destroyed seems to show that he returns your mistrust. "

She almost tore it out of my hands. 

"When was this letter received?" she asked, reading it with burningeyes and writhing lips. 

"The day after Miss Grace left her home. "

"Then she never saw it?"

"No. "

"Who has seen it?"

"Myself and you. "

"No one else?"

"No one but the writer. "

She laughed. 

"We will destroy it, " she said; and deliberately tore it up. 

I stooped and picked up the fragments. 

"You forget, " said I, "this letter may be called for by the coroner. It is known that I took it in charge. "

"I might better have burnt it, " she hissed. 

"Not so, I should then have had to explain its loss. "

Her old fear came back into her eyes. 

"Now I have merely to give it up and leave it to Mr. Dwight Pollardto explain it. He doubtless can. "

"My son will never betray his mother. "

"Yet he could write this letter. "

She frowned. 

"Dwight has his weakness, " said she. 

"It is a pity his weakness did not lead him to send this letter afew hours sooner. "

"That is where his very weakness fails. He struggles because heknows his mother partly, and fails because he does not know herwholly. "

"And Guy?"

"He knows me better. "

The smile with which this was said was the culminating point in adisplay of depravity such as I had never beheld, even in hovels ofacknowledged vice. Feeling that I could not endure much more, Ihastened to finish the interview. 

"Madam, " said I, "by your own acknowledgment you deserve neitherconsideration nor mercy. What leniency I then show will be for yourdaughter alone, who, in so far as I can see, is innocent andundeserving of the great retribution which I could so easily bringupon this family. But do not think because I promise to suppressyour name from the account I may be called upon to give the coroner, that your sin will be forgotten by Heaven, or this young girl'sdeath go unavenged. As sure as you are the vilest woman I ever met, will suffering and despair overtake you. I do not know when, and Ido not know by what means, but it will be bitter when it comes, andthe hand of man will not be able to save you. "

But it was as if I had not spoken. All she seemed to hear, all, atleast, that she paid the least attention to, was the promise I hadmade. 

"You are decided, then, upon secrecy?" she asked. 

"I am decided upon saying nothing that will bring your name intopublic notice. "

Her proud manner immediately returned. You would have thought shehad never suffered a humiliation. 

"But how will you account for your interest in this young person?"

"By telling a portion of the truth. I shall say that my attentionwas called to her by a letter from Mr. Pollard requesting me to hunther up and take care of her after he was dead. I shall not say hecalled her his grandchild unless I am positively forced to do so, nor will I mention the treatment I have received at your hands. "

"And the woman you saw?"

"Is your business. I have nothing to do with her. "

The shadow which till this moment rested upon her haughty brow, cleared away. With a quick gesture, from which she could notentirely exclude a betrayal of triumph, she dropped the curtainacross that charming picture of bridal felicity by which she had wonso much, and turning upon me with all the condescension of aconqueror, she exclaimed:

"I once did you an injustice, Mr. Barrows, and called you a namethat was but little complimentary to your cloth. Allow me to makesuch amends as I can and call you what you most surely are--the mostgenerous and least vindictive of men. "

This was intolerable. I made haste to leave the room. 

"Mrs. Pollard, " said I, "no amenities can take place between us. From this hour on we are strangers, till the time conies when weshall appear before the judgment-seat of God. In that day, neitheryou nor I can hold back one iota of the truth. Think of this, andrepent your part in this awful tragedy of sin, if you can. " And Iturned away toward the door. 

But just as I was about to open it, it swung slowly aside, and inthe frame-work made by the lintels, I saw Guy Pollard standing witha quiet look of inquiry on his face. 

"Mother, " said he, in the calmest and most courteous of tones, "shall I let this gentleman pass?"

The reply came in accents equally calm and courteous:

"Certainly, my son. "

And Guy Pollard made me a deep bow, and drew softly aside from mypath. 

I had been within an inch of my death, but it scarcely ruffled me. 

XXVII. 

REPARATION. 

 If hearts are weak, souls should at least be strong. I will be brief, for my short date of breath Is not so long as is a tedious tale. --ROMEO AND JULIET. 

Let me hasten to the end. 

When I told Mrs. Pollard that I would suppress that portion of thetruth which connected her name with this fatal affair, I did not ofcourse mean that I would resort to any falsehood or evenprevarication. I merely relied upon the improbability of my beingquestioned close enough to necessitate my being obliged to revealthe astounding facts which made this matter a destructive one forthe Pollards. And I was right in my calculations. Neither socially, nor at the formal inquiry before the coroner, was any questionraised of relationship between the dead girl and the family inS----; and this fact, taken with the discreet explanations accordedby Dwight Pollard of his father's, and afterwards of his own interestin her, as shown in the letter which he had sent to her address, isthe reason why this affair passed without scandal to the partiesconcerned. 

But not without results for deep down in the heart of one person aninfluence was at work, destined ere long to eventuate in the tragedyto which these lines are the clue. Remorse deep as my nature andimmovable as my sin, has gotten hold upon me, and nothing short ofdeath, and death in the very shape from which I fled in such acowardly manner, will ever satisfy my soul or allay that burningsense of shame and regret which makes me fear the eye of man andquake at the thought of eternal justice. 

For in a final interview with Dwight Pollard I have become convincedthat, however unprincipled his brother might be, it was with nointention of carrying out his threats that he plunged me into thevat on that fatal night; that, recognizing the weakness in me, hehad resorted to intimidation to ensure his ends; and that all theconsequences which followed might have been averted, if I had butremained true to my trust. 

Being a Christian minister, and bound by my creed and faith toresist the devil and face the wrath of men, my dereliction in thisregard acquires an importance not to be measured by the ordinarystandard of law or social usage. For, when I failed to support myprinciples under trial, Christian faith was betrayed and the avowedpower of God put to mockery and shame. I go, therefore, to the deathI then shunned, deliberately, conscientiously, determinedly. For thesake of God, for the sake of honor, for the sake of those higherprinciples which it should be the glory of men to sustain at allrisk and in every furnace of affliction, I lay down youth, love, andlife, confident that if in so doing I rob one sweet soul of itshappiness, I sow anew in other hearts the seed of that stern beliefin God and the requirements of our faith which my cowardly act musthave gone so far to destroy. 

May God accept the sacrifice in the spirit in which I perform it, and in His gracious mercy make light, not the horrors of the pitinto which I am about to descend, but the heart of him who mustendure them. Whether long or short, they will be such as He sendsme, and the end must be peace. 

XXVIII. 

TWO OR ONE. 

 How all the other passions fleet to air, As doubtful thoughts and rash embrac'd despair, And shuddering fear, and green-ey'd jealousy. O love, be moderate; allay thy ecstasy. --MER. OF VENICE. 

I had finished it; the last line had been read, and I sat in a mazeof astonishment and awe. What my thoughts were, what my judgmentupon this astounding act of self-destruction for conscience sake, itwill not interest you to know. In a matter so complicated withquestions of right and wrong, each man must feel for himself, andout of his own nature adjudge praise, or express censure; I, Constance Sterling, shall do neither; I can only wonder and bestill. 

One point, however, in this lengthy confession I will allude to, asit involves a fact. Mr. Barrows says that he goes to his death, thesame death from which he fled when he yielded to the threats of GuyPollard and gave up the will. He expected, therefore, to find thevat dry, and looked forward to hours, if not days, of long-drawnsuffering in a spot devoid of warmth, light, water, and food. Hisinjunction to Ada in that last letter of his--not to make any moveto find him for ten days--favors this idea, and proves what hisexpectations were. 

But, by the mercy of God, the vat had been half filled with water inthe interim which had elapsed between his first and last visit tothe mill, and the prison thus becoming a cistern, he must have cometo his end in a few moments after his fatal plunge. It was the onerelief which a contemplation of this tragedy brought to myoverwrought mind. 

But with the next day came a reaction; and with a heart full ofrejoicing, I prepared to communicate to Dwight Pollard the fact ofhis release from the dominion of Rhoda Colwell. For whether thisrecord of the past showed him to be a man worthy of full honor ornot, it certainly sufficed to exonerate him from all suspicion ofbeing the direct cause of David Barrow's death, and I knew her wellenough, or thought I did, to feel certain that no revenge, unlessthe greatest, would ever satisfy her, and that in losing her holdupon his life and love, she would make no attempt that would merelydarken his name before the world. It was therefore with a fearlessheart I penned the following lines. 

MISS COLWELL:

Your suspicions were unfounded. I have Mr. Barrows' own words to theeffect that he meditated death by imprisonment in the vat. I go toacquaint Dwight Pollard with the fact that any accusation on yourpart must fail before the minute and circumstantial confession whichMr. Barrows has left behind him. 

Signing this letter, I despatched it at once to its destination;then taking the important manuscript in my hand, I set out for thePollard mansion. 

It was a day full of sunshine and promise. As I sped through thestreets and approached that end of the town which hitherto it hadtaken all my courage to face, I was astonished at the lightness ofmy own heart and the beneficent aspect which every object about meseemed to have acquired. Even the place I had come to visit lookedless dreary than usual, and I found myself in the grounds and halfway up the stoop, before I realized the least falling of that shadowwhich seemed inseparable from this particular spot. And even now itonly came with the thought of Guy, whose possible presence at thedoor would be any thing but desirable. But my errand being one ofpeace I was enabled to contemplate even this contingency withequanimity, and was about to ring the bell with a trembling butdetermined hand, when the door suddenly opened and Dwight Pollardstood before me. 

The look of surprise and delight which he gave me brought the colorto my cheeks. 

"Ah, what a pleasure!" he murmured. Then with a quick look in myface, added earnestly, "You bring good news. "

"The best, " I answered cheerily, and following him in, I took mystand once more in that dismal parlor where weeks ago I had receivedmy first intimation of the feeling which his every look and gesturenow conveyed. 

"Mr. Pollard, " I now managed to say with a certain dignity, "you seeme here because Providence has lately put into my hands a documentwhich completely exonerates you from the charges which Rhoda Colwellhas threatened to make against you. Read it, and when youunderstand the tragedy we so much deplore, we will see how much orhow little can be done with the lives it has so deeply affected. "And placing the thickly written sheets in his hands I withdrew tothe first window I saw and mechanically threw aside the curtainsthat hid it. 

The sight that met my gaze made me for an instant forget theimportance of what I had just done. The window I had chosen was theone which looked into the conservatory, and the picture which Mr. Barrows describes as having seen from this spot was then and therebefore my eyes. The tropical growth, the gorgeous blossoms, even thebeautiful woman and the sturdy man. Mr. And Mrs. Harrington werelovers, then, still. The mother's death and that of the devotedclergyman had not served to reveal the secret which secured thehappiness of this bright, attractive, if somewhat worldly, pair. Iown I was glad of this, little as I felt myself in sympathy with theradiant but superficial Agnes. Youth, love, and joy are so preciousthat it lightens the heart to behold their sunshine even on thefaces of those whose characters we do not envy. 

Nevertheless, the thoughts suggested by this unexpected scene didnot long serve to distract me from the more serious matter in hand. Dropping the curtains, I cast one look, toward Mr. Pollard. He wassitting with his face bent over the manuscript, a deep corrugationmarked his brow, and a settled look of pain his mouth. I turned awayagain; I could not bear that look; all my strength was needed forthe effort which it might possibly be my duty to make. I sat down ina remote corner and diligently set my soul to patience. 

It was well, for my suspense was long, so long that hope and couragebegan to fail and an inward trembling to take the place of thejoyous emotions with which I had placed this confession in hishands. Nevertheless, it came to an end at last, and, with anagitation easy to conceive, I heard him roll the manuscript up, rise, and approach to where I sat. I did not look up, I could not;but I felt his gaze burning through my half-closed lids, andterrified lest I should reveal my weakness and my hopes, I set mylips together, and stilled the beatings of my heart, till I musthave struck his sense with the chill and immobility of a totallyinsensible woman. The despair which the sight caused him, showeditself in his tone when he spoke. 

"You share my own opinion of myself, " said he. "You consider me thedestroyer of Mr. Barrows. "

I looked up. What grief, what shame, what love I beheld in the faceabove me. Slowly I shook my head. 

"Mr. Barrows does not accuse you, " said I. Then, determined to betruthful to the core at all risks and at all hazards, I addedearnestly, "But you were to blame; greatly to blame; I shall neverhide that fact from you or from myself. I should be unworthy of youresteem if I did. "

"Yes, " he earnestly assented, "and I would be less than a man if Idid not agree with you. " Then, in a lower tone and with greaterearnestness yet, continued, "It is not pleasant for a man to speakill of his own flesh and blood; but after having read words ascondemnatory as these, it may be pardoned me, perhaps, if I speak asmuch of the truth as is necessary to present myself in a fair lightto the woman upon whose good opinion rests all my future happiness. Constance, I love you--"

But at this word I had hurriedly risen. 

"Oh!" I somewhat incoherently exclaimed; "not here! not under yourown roof!"

But at his look I sank back. 

"Yes, " he imperatively cried, "here and now. I cannot wait anotherday, another hour. My love for you is too great, too absorbing, forany paltry considerations to interpose themselves upon my attentionnow. I must tell you what you are to me, and ask you, as you are ajust and honest woman, to listen while I lay bare to you my life--the life I long to consecrate to your happiness, Constance. "

I looked up. 

"Thank you, " he murmured; but whether in return for my look or thesmile which his look involuntarily called up, I cannot say, for hewent on instantly in continuation of his former train of thought, "Constance, you have read this confession from Mr. Barrows which youhave just placed in my hands?"

"Yes, " I nodded gravely. 

"You can, then, understand what a dilemma we were in some threemonths ago. My sister had attracted the notice of an Englisharistocrat. He loved her and wished to marry her. We admired him--orrather we admired his position (I would be bitterly true at thishour) and wished to see the union effected. But there was a secretin our family, which if known, would make such a marriageimpossible. A crime perpetrated before my birth had attacheddisgrace to our name and race, and Mr. Harrington is a man to flydisgrace quicker than he would death. Miss Sterling, it would beuseless for me to try to make myself out better than I am. When Iheard that my father, whom I am just beginning to revere but of whomin those days I had rather a careless opinion, was determined toacknowledge his convict son through the daughter which had been sentover here, I revolted. Not that I begrudged this young girl themoney he wished to leave her, --though from a somewhat morbid idea ofreparation which my father possessed, he desired to give her anamount that would materially affect our fortunes--but that I lovedmy sister, and above all loved the proud and isolated position wehad obtained in society, and could not endure the results which therevelation of such a stain in, our family must produce. Not mymother, whose whole life since her marriage had been one haughtyprotest against this secret shame, nor Guy, with all his cynicismand pride, felt stronger on this point than I. To my warped judgmentany action within the bounds of reason seemed justifiable that wouldprevent my dying father from bringing this disgrace upon hischildren; and being accustomed to defer to my mother's judgments anddesires, --she was not only a powerful woman, Constance, butpossessed of a strange fascination for those she loved and sought togovern--I lent myself sufficiently to her schemes to stand neutralin the struggle between my father's wishes and her determination, though that father would often turn upon me with a gaze of entreatythat went to my heart. That he had taken advantage of his lastjourney to Boston to have a new will drawn, and that his only desirenow was for an opportunity to get this same safely transferred intothe hands of his lawyer, I never suspected any more than did mymother or brother. We thought that as far as the past was concernedwe were secure, and that if we could prevent an interview betweenhim and Mr. Nicholls, the future would likewise be safe from adiscovery of our secret It was therefore a terrible shock to mymother and afterwards to me when we learned that he had alreadyaccomplished the act we so much dreaded and that the clergyman wehad called in at my father's urgent request, had been entrusted withthe paper that was to proclaim our shame to the world. But thedisappointment, great as it was, had little time to exert its forceon me, for with my brother's recital of what had taken place at myfather's death-bed there came a new dread which I find it difficultto name but which you will understand when I say that it led me togive Mr. Barrows the warning of which he has spoken. My brother--Icannot speak of him with calmness--is a man to be feared, MissSterling. Not that I would not be a match for him in all matters ofopen enmity; but in ways of secrecy and deep dealing, he is master, and all the more to be dreaded that he makes it impossible for oneto understand him or measure the depths of turpitude to which hewould descend. When, therefore I heard him say he should have thatwill back before it could pass into the hands of Mr. Nicholls, Itrembled; and as the night passed and morning came without showingany diminution in the set determination of his expression, Idecided upon visiting Mr. Barrows, in the hope of influencing him toreturn the will of his own accord. But I soon saw that in spite ofthe weakness I detected in him there was small prospect of his doingthis; and turning my steps home again, I confronted my mother and mybrother and asked them what they meant to do; they told me, that is, they told me partly; and I, with that worse dread in my soul, wasfain to be satisfied with the merely base and dishonorable schemethey meditated. To take Mr. Barrows at a disadvantage, to argue withhim, threaten him, and perhaps awe him by place and surroundings tosurrender to them the object of their desires, did not seem to me sodreadful, when I thought of what they might have done or might yetattempt to do if I stood in their way too much. So, merelystipulating that they would allow me to accompany them to the mill, I let matters take their course, and true to my own secret desireto retain their confidence and so save him, and if possible them, from any act that would entail consequences of a really seriousnature, I gave them my assistance to the extent of receiving Mr. Barrows at the door and conducting him through the mill to the roomwhich my brother had designated to me as the one in which theyproposed to hold their conference. 

"But the task was uncongenial, and at the first words which Guychose to employ against Mr. Barrows, I set down my lantern on thefloor and escaped to the outer air again. Money, station, famebefore the world, seemed to me but light matters at that moment, andif I had followed my first impulse I should have rushed back to theassistance of Mr. Barrows. But considerations terrible and strangeprevented me from following this impulse. In the first place I wasnot myself free from a desire to see the contents of the will andjudge for myself to what extent my father had revealed our disgraceto the world; and secondly, the habit of years is not broken in aninstant, and this mother who gave her countenance to an act I soheartily disapproved, had for all her reserve and a nature seriouslydiffering from my own, ever been the dominator of my actions and thecontrolling force of my life. I could not brave her, not yet, notwhile any hope remained of righting matters, without a demonstrationthat would lead to open hostilities. So with a weakness I now wonderat, I let the minutes go by till the sound of coming steps warned methat my brother was at hand. What he told me was brief and to thepoint He had obtained the clergyman's consent to read the will andwas on his way to get it. "But, Mr. Barrows?" I inquired. "Is in thecellar there with mother. " "The cellar!" I repeated. But he wasalready in the yard, on his way to the town. I was disturbed. Thecalmness of his tone had not deceived me. I felt that something waswrong; what I could not tell. Taking the lantern he had left behindhim, I made my way to the cellar. It seemed empty. But when I hadreached the other end I found myself confronted by a ghostly figurein which I was forced to recognize my mother, though the sight ofher in the masquerade costume she had adopted; gave me a shockserious as the interests involved. But this surprise, great as itwas, was soon lost in that of finding her alone; and when to myhurried inquiry as to where Mr. Barrows was, she pointed to the vat, you can imagine the tide of emotions that swept over me. But no, that is impossible. They were not what you would have felt, theywere not what I would feel now. Mingled with my shame and theindignant protest of my manhood against so unworthy an exercise ofpower, was that still dominating instinct of dread which anyinterference with my mother's plans or wishes had always inspired;and so when I learned that the worst was over and that Mr. Barrowswould be released on Guy's return, I subdued my natural desire torescue him and went away, little realizing that in thus allyingmyself with his persecutors, I had laid the foundations of a remorsethat would embitter my whole after existence. The return of mybrother with the will caused me fresh emotions. As soon as I saw himI knew there was a struggle before me; and in handing him back thelantern, I took occasion to ask if he had opened the document. Helooked at me a moment before replying and his lip took a sinistercurl. 'I have, ' he said. 'And what does it contain?' 'What we wish, 'he answered, with a strange emphasis. I was too much astonished tospeak. I could not believe this to be true, and when, Mr. Barrowshaving been released, we had all returned home, I asked to see thewill and judge for myself. But Guy refused to show it. 'We are goingto return it, ' he said, and said no more. Nor would my mother giveme any further information. Either I had betrayed myself in the lookI gave Guy on his return to the mill, or else some underlying regardfor my feelings had constrained her to spare me actual participancein a fraud. At all events, I did not know the truth till the realwill had been destroyed and the substituted one placed in Mr. Nicholls' hands, and then it was told to me in a way to confound mysense of right and make me think it would be better to let mattersproceed to this false issue, than by a public acknowledgment of thefacts, bring down upon me and mine the very disgrace from which Ihad been so desirous of escaping. I was caught in the toils you see, and though it would have been a man's part to have broken throughevery constraint and proclaimed myself once and for all on the sideof right, I had nothing whereby to show what the last wishes of myfather had been, and could only say what would ruin us withoutbenefiting the direct object of those wishes. I therefore kept theircounsel and my own; stilling my conscience when it spoke too loud, by an inward promise to be not only a friend to my older brother'schild, but to part with the bulk of my fortune to her. That shewould need my friendship I felt, as the letter I wrote to her shows, but that such evil would come upon her as did, or that my delay tosee her would make it impossible for me ever to behold her in thisworld, I had yet too much filial regard to imagine. I wasconsequently overwhelmed by the news of her death, and though Inever knew the whole truth till now, I was conscious of a distrustso great that from that day to the worser ones which followed, Inever looked at those nearest to me without a feeling of deepseparation such as is only made by some dark and secret crime. I wasalone, or so I felt, and was gradually becoming morbid from acontinual brooding on this subject, when the great blow fell whichchanged whatever vague distress I felt into an active remorse andpositive fear. Mr. Barrows was found dead, drowned in the very vatinto which my brother had forced him a month or so before. What didit mean? It was impossible for me to guess the truth, but I couldnot but recognize the fact that we were more or less responsible forhis death; that the frenzy which had doubtless led to this tragedywas the outcome of the strain which had been put upon his nerves, and though personally I had had nothing to do with placing him inthe vat, I was certainly responsible for allowing him to remainthere a moment after I knew where he was. It was, therefore, withthe deepest horror and confusion that I rushed home with this news, only to find that it had outstripped me, and that my mother, foreseeing the dangers which this death might bring upon us, hadsuccumbed to the shock, and lay, as you know, in a most alarmingcondition herself. The perilous position into which we were thrownby these two fatal occurrences necessitated a certain confidencebetween my brother and myself. To watch our mother, and stifle anyunguarded expressions into which she might be betrayed, to watchyou, and when we saw it was too late to prevent your sharing oursecret, to make our hold upon you such that you would feel it toyour own advantage to keep it with us, was perhaps only pardonablein persons situated as we were. But, Constance, while with Guy thefeeling that made this last task easy was one of selfish passiononly, mine from the first possessed a depth and fervency which madethe very thought of wooing you seem a desecration and a wrong. Foralready had your fine qualities produced their effect, and in thelight of your high and lofty nature, my own past looked deformed anddark. And when the worst came, and Rhoda Colwell's threats put aseemingly immovable barrier between us, this love which had sprungup in a very nightmare of trouble, only seemed to take deeper andmore lasting root, and I vowed that whether doomed to lifelongregret or not, I would live worthy of you, and be in misery what Icould so easily be in joy, the man you could honor, if not love. That this hour would ever come I dared not dream, but now that ithas, can you, will you give me so much as you have, and not give memore? I know I have no right to ask any thing from you; that thesecrets of our family are a burden which any woman might well shrinkfrom sharing, but if you do not turn from me, will you turn fromthem? Love is such a help to the burdened, and I love you so fondly, so reverently. "

He was on his knees; his forehead was pressed against my arm. Theemotion which shook his whole body communicated itself to me. I feltthat whatever his past weaknesses had been, he possessed a charactercapable of the noblest development, and, yielding to the longingwith which my whole being was animated, I was about to lay my handupon his head, when he lifted his face and, gazing earnestly at me, said:

"One moment; there is yet a cloud which ought to be blown away frombetween us--Rhoda Colwell. I loved her; I sought her love; but oncegained, my eyes opened. I saw her imperfections; I felt the evil inher nature. I knew if I married her, I should ruin my life. I lefther. I seemed to have no choice, for my love died with my esteem, and she was not a woman to marry without love. Could I have donedifferently, Constance?"

I answered as my whole heart inclined me to. I could not refuse thislove coming into my desolate life. It seemed to be mine. Whatevertrials, fear, or disquietude it might bring, the joy of it was greatenough to make these very trials desirable, if only to prove to himand me that the links which bound us were forged from truest metal, without any base alloy to mar their purity and undermine theirstrength. 

And so that spot of gloom, which had been the scene of so much thatwas dark and direful, became the witness of a happiness which seemedto lift it out of the veil of reserve in which it had been shroudedfor so long, and make of the afternoon sun, which at that momentstreamed in through the western windows, a signal of peace, whosebrightness as yet has never suffered change or eclipse. 

THE END.