of t&e 
 
 Oniucrsitp of jQottb Carolina 
 
 Collection of J5ott& CaroUniana 
 
 4£nBotorti bp 
 
 Jo&n feprunt ^ill 
 
 of tDe Glass of 1889 
 
 ex 
 
 C GE L 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 00039589007 
 
 This book must not 
 be taken from the 
 Library building. 
 
 JHIS TITLE HAS BEEN MICROFILMED 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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Lillian 
 
 De J^i ERE 
 
 OR, THE CURSE RANDOLPH 
 HALL 
 
 By MARIE CLEMENTS 
 
 Mrs . T £\ Ti+^h^ 
 
 SCROLL PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 CHICAGO 
 
Copyrighted 1902 
 By Marie Clements 
 
ILLIAN De VeRE 
 
The Memory 
 of Mv 
 Father. 
 
CHAPTER I. 
 
 lillian's childhood. 
 
 As twilight deepened and objects on the street be- 
 came too indistinct to furnish topics of conversation, 
 a hush fell on the three girls sitting in the bay win- 
 dow. Presently a deep sigh from one aroused the 
 others from their reverie and one of her companions 
 asked : 
 
 "Louise, what makes you so quiet? It is very un- 
 usual for you to be so thoughtful. You must be trying 
 to decide some weighty question. Come, now, tell 
 Alice and myself what you were thinking about so 
 seriously.' ' 
 
 "Well, I was just wishing we lived in the time of 
 fairies and that one would appear to me and offer 
 to bestow upon me one wish— just one." 
 
 "If so," laughingly replied the other, "you would 
 be in as great a state of perplexity and perhaps make 
 as ridiculous a wish as the old man and woman we 
 read of." 
 
 "No, indeed, I would not. It would not require a 
 moment's thought. I would wish for wealth. I have 
 been poor all my life. Poverty has held me in her 
 galling chains. Do you suppose Bruce in prison would 
 have hesitated a moment if one desire had been 
 granted him ? No, he would have wished for freedom, 
 and I wish for freedom from the necessity of earning 
 every dollar I spend. I would wish for such wealth 
 as Lillian De Vere will possess, the petted child of 
 fortune, heiress of thousands, having no desire which 
 money can purchase ungratified. Yes, I would wish 
 for the golden key that unlocks the door of luxury and 
 
6 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 society to its fortunate possessor. Now, Alice, sup- 
 pose a fairy were to appear to you and give you one 
 wish; what would you ask?" 
 
 "I would not hesitate to desire beauty. From a 
 child I have deplored my lack of personal attractions. 
 I, who so much need it, would ask such beauty as 
 would win the admiration of all who should behold 
 it— such peerless, enchanting beauty as Lillian De 
 Vere will possess when she reaches womanhood ; when 
 the exquisite loveliness of her childish face shall have 
 matured into yet richer charms, which, combined with 
 her fascinating manner and French vivacity, shall en- 
 chain the affections of all about her. Yes, I would crave 
 such beauty as hers." 
 
 6 4 And you, Janet; quiet little Quakeress; what 
 would you ask from the kind fairy?" 
 
 ' 'I would ask intellect; in other words, by one magic 
 touch of the fairy's wand, I would wish to become & 
 cultivated, refined, accomplished woman, reigning a 
 queen in society, not by the power of mere beauty, 
 which a single disease might destroy, nor by wealth, 
 which might 'take wings and fly away,' but by that 
 influence which talents of a superior order ever exert 
 on others. In fine, I should like to be just such an 
 intelligent, interesting a woman as Lillian De Vere 
 has the talents and opportunity to become, were she 
 to exert her natural gifts. But she is too indolent— 
 too fond of her ease to cultivate her talents, and thus 
 will fail to become the fine specimen of womanhood she 
 is capable of becoming by means of her intellect, her 
 wealth and her beauty. She knows she can become 
 a belle by virtue of what she already possesses, and 
 will not be likely to make the effort to deserve the 
 position assigned to her by fortuitous circumstances 
 and which she could so highly adorn. " 
 
 ' 'Yes," said the one called Louise, "Lillian must 
 
LILLIAN'S CHILDHOOD 
 
 7 
 
 have been a favorite of the fairies— they lavished on 
 her the gifts which they deal so sparingly to others, 
 one of which, we think, would have made us happy. 
 But come, James has lighted the gas. Let's go in and 
 have a game of Parchesi before supper. I wonder 
 where Lillian is." 
 
 The three girls repaired to the parlor, unaware that 
 they had had a listener, little dreaming of the influ- 
 ence their words would exert. In the front yard, 
 near the bay-window, reclining on a rustic seat under 
 a tree whose thick foliage hid her from view, was a 
 girl about ten years of age. She had been reading, 
 but as darkness came on she shut the book and was gaz- 
 ing listlessly about her, when her attention was ar- 
 rested by hearing her name called. She listened and 
 heard the conversation above recorded. At first, a 
 smile of gratified vanity wreathed her face as she 
 heard her beauty praised, but this was succeeded by 
 a flush of shame as the words reached her ears, ' ' She is 
 too indolent— too fond of her ease, to cultivate her 
 talents. " * * Indolent means lazy, ' 9 she said to herself. 
 4 * Aunt Annie says I am too lazy to study or to prac- 
 tice, and my teachers say I am bright enough, but so 
 indolent and inattentive. And I must be, for I never 
 gain any headmarks in my classes, nor any prizes for 
 good lessons, nor any medals, nor any distinctions in 
 my studies. Aunt Annie said she waited very eagerly 
 last session to hear my name called on some study and 
 was so mortified not to have it mentioned with the rest 
 of my classmates. I know I can get my lessons easily 
 enough when I try, but I very seldom feel like trying. 
 I like to play and read better. But I intend to do bet- 
 ter. I will study and practice and make Uncle Fran- 
 cis and Aunt Annie proud of me. I will try to become 
 such a woman as Miss Janet thinks I may. I will be- 
 gin this very night/ 9 and a look of determination 
 
8 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 flashed from her beautiful eyes. That night, after 
 supper, there was not the usual coaxing for Aunt 
 Annie to let her go in the parlor to entertain company 
 and play games with the young lady visitors. Seiz- 
 ing her books, she ran up stairs to her room, lighted 
 the gas to its fullest extent, seated herself at the cen- 
 ter-table and was soon busy at work. But habit is 
 hard to conquer, and the indulged child found it hard 
 to become interested in dry text-books while fascinat- 
 ing story books lay near her and seemed to invite her 
 perusal. Several times her resolution wavered, but she 
 perseveringly kept on amid yawns and sighs of fatigue. 
 Once she rested her weary head and sleepy eyes on the 
 table, using her arms for a pillow, "to rest just for a 
 moment," she thought, but she fell asleep, and after 
 a little nap, awoke in surprise to find she had slept. 
 Bathing her face, she sat down to her tasks with re- 
 newed vigor. The next day teachers and scholars 
 were surprised at the well prepared lessons of the 
 child whose ambition it had hitherto seemed impossi- 
 ble to arouse, and their surprise increased as day after 
 day and week after week passed and she continued to 
 improve and to contend for and to win prizes and 
 distinctions. This change was by no means easily 
 effected in the self -indulged girl. Fortunately she pos- 
 sessed a strong will, which had been strengthened by 
 being rarely opposed. This arrayed on the side of her 
 resolution was a great help to her, but she was often 
 tempted to fall back into her former indolent habits. 
 The interesting story-books so carefully selected by 
 her aunt with a desire to stimulate in her a taste for 
 pure reading proved a temptation to her, but the 
 thought of her aunt's smiles of approval and words of 
 encouragement kept her up to her studies that she 
 might not disappoint and grieve one she loved so 
 fondly. One night, when study was more than usu- 
 
LILLIAN'S CHILDHOOD 9 
 
 ally a weariness to the flesh, she asked her uncle: 
 ' ' Uncle Francis, if you had something to do and didn ? t 
 want to do it at all, what would you do about it ? ' ' 
 
 "Why, I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to do it at 
 all." 
 
 ' 1 But suppose it was something that you knew it was 
 your duty to do ? " 
 
 "Well, in that case, I hope I would be brave enough 
 to d£ it. I would take for my motto, 1 1 can and I will, ' 
 and aided by it, would go manfully forward in the 
 performance of duty. But what is it my little girl 
 doesn't want to do, but feels she ought?" 
 
 "I don't want to study my lessons, uncle. I don't 
 like to study." 
 
 _ "Well, darling, you shan't get the horrid old lessons 
 if you don 't want to. Why should you spoil the luster 
 of those bright eyes by study ? There will be no need 
 of it. You will be beautiful and rich, and that will be 
 enough for you, ' ' and he drew the girl to his sidt and 
 tenderly stroked her head. But Aunt Annie looked 
 up from her crocheting and said, gently : 
 
 "Col. De Vere, you teach by precept and counter- 
 act by example. I would rathgr encourage Lillian to 
 write upon her banner, ( I can and I will, ' and by the 
 power of those magic words, by which so many have 
 won success, conquer the love of ease and become an 
 intelligent woman, instead of shirking duty and ne- 
 glecting the opportunities for improvement which 
 will never come to her again. Will you not, dear, 
 prove yourself brave and self-sacrificing for duty's 
 sake?" 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Annie, I will take those words for my 
 watchword, for while Uncle's advice is the easier, I 
 know yours is the better, and I will try hard to fol- 
 low it." 
 
 She did try and succeeded and acquired that un- 
 
10 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 yielding firmness which she afterwards displayed in 
 the trying scenes of her life. 
 
 Lilliam De Vere was born in France. Her father 
 was a French gentleman and her mother an English 
 lady of extraordinary beauty, and as good as she was 
 beautiful. When Lillian was about two years old her 
 mother's health began to fail. The advice of the best 
 physicians was followed, but to no effect. She grew 
 worse, instead of better, until as a last resort a sea 
 voyage was recommended. Monsieur De Vere's 
 brother, the only near relative he possessed, had mar- 
 ried an American lady and was living in the United 
 States. With high hopes that his wife would be re- 
 stored to health by the change, he prevailed on her to 
 come to America. The first few days of the voyage 
 he was flattered by the seeming improvement in his 
 wife's healthy but ere long she grew rapidly worse, 
 and before half the voyage was accomplished she died, 
 and her body was buried in the sea. After her death 
 her husbtand fell into a state of deep melancholy from 
 which he never recovered. At the end of two years, 
 during which time every effort was made by his 
 brother to arouse him from his sad condition, he died, 
 leaving his child to Col. De Vere, who, having no chil- 
 dren, gladly adopted the lovely child, who had inher- 
 ited her mother's rare beauty and gentle disposition. 
 So tenderly had she been reared she had never felt 
 the loss of her parents, for her uncle and his wife loved 
 her as their own child. Col. De Vere's income was 
 amply sufficient for the wants of his family. Being 
 of an ease-loving disposition, he would have been con- 
 tented with this but for Lillian's sake. The property 
 of his brother had gradually dwindled away until at 
 his death just enough was left to pay his indebtedness. 
 The De Veres had from time immemorial been a proud, 
 
LILLIAN'S CHILDHOOD 11 
 
 wealthy family, and Lillian, the last representative of 
 that family, must have wealth at her command. 
 
 So Col. De Vere plunged into speculations, and they 
 had proved successful beyond his most sanguine ex- 
 pectations. Once, when elated with the large returns 
 of money invested, he called Lillian to him. Pushing 
 back the thick clustering curls from the fair forehead, 
 he gazed at her with mingled love and admiration and 
 said: 
 
 "Lillian, you will be a wealthy heiress. Your rare 
 beauty, with its golden frame, will make you an object 
 of universal admiration. You will be courted and flat- 
 tered enough to turn your head if you were not so 
 sensible. Yes, I predict for you a happy, brilliant ca- 
 reer. You will repose upon beds of ease and your feet 
 will press thornless roses. You were born under a 
 lucky star certainly, for you will be free from the 
 troubles to which so many are incident.' ' 
 
 "Ah, Col. De Vere," his wife said, "life is too un- 
 certain for you to attempt to make any prediction in 
 regard to the future with any degree of certainty. The 
 most sunny skies are often suddenly obscured by dark 
 clouds; so, too, often into our lives fall sudden and 
 crushing trials, least expected and harder to bear be- 
 cause we are unprepared for them. Teach our little 
 girl to strive to obtain the true riches i 6 which neither 
 moth nor rust doth corrupt and which thieves cannot 
 steal." Encourage her to cultivate beauty of char- 
 acter, which, unlike mere personal beauty, grows more 
 beautiful as time touches it with his fingers, rounding 
 and moulding it each year into perfect symmetry. ' ' 
 
 ' ' I will leave it to you, dear Annie, to teach her by 
 precept, and still more forcibly by example, the truths 
 of which you speak. You teach her divine things, 
 while I tell her of the earthly." 
 
 By just such training Lillian was reared, the prac- 
 
12 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 ticaljvisdom and excellent judgment of her aunt coun- 
 terbalancing the admiring enthusiasm and almost idol- 
 atrous affection of her uncle, whose hopeful nature 
 forbade him to see anything in the future contrary to 
 his wishes and expectations. 
 
LILLIAN AND GERALD 
 
 13 
 
 ; CHAPTER II. 
 
 LILLIAN AND GERALD. 
 
 " Lillian, do^you mean what you say?" 
 
 "I do, Gerald," was the firm reply. "I have made 
 my decision deliberately and shall abide by it." 
 
 A deep flush spread over the face of the young man, 
 and he bit his lips as if to keep back the angry words 
 which rushed to them. He seized the back of a chair 
 near him with a fierce grasp, as if that would help to 
 give him the self-control for which he strove. He was 
 silent for several minutes— -the flush passed from his 
 face, which assumed an ashen hue, and these words 
 came with forced calmness from his colorless lips : 
 
 " You have decided, then, to give me up for the sake 
 of a sickly woman who, Dr. Walker himself assures 
 me, will live but a few months at farthest. Do you 
 realize what a sacrifice you are making? After her 
 death you will be a friendless orphan, with no kindred 
 to care for you. If you had the money of which you 
 expected to be heiress it would be different, for it 
 would secure you friends, and by it you could retain 
 your station in society. But remember, after your 
 aunt's death you will have a very small income— one 
 that will be very inconvenient to one of your luxuri- 
 ous tastes and habits. You will find then that those 
 who courted and flattered you will slight and scorn 
 you for your poverty. Money is the passport to soci- 
 ety. I have studied the ways of the world and found 
 that out ; you are ignorant of this truth which all men 
 of observation know. I, your betrothed husband by 
 your own consent and that of your uncle, have been 
 offered and accepted a position which promises me 
 
14 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 wealth in a few years. You refuse to share that posi- 
 tion with me, alleging as a reason your duty to your 
 aunt, a relative only in name. If she loved you as she 
 pretends, she would be unwilling for you to lose such 
 an opportunity to redeem the fortune you have lost. 
 Many an own mother has cheerfully parted with her 
 child under similar circumstances, realizing it would 
 be for that child's future good. Why should she be 
 so selfish— she who has no claim on you, even of rela- 
 tionship T" 
 
 ' ' Gerald, you wrong Aunt Annie. She has no idea 
 of your accepting the position. I told her about it and 
 she asked at once if I were willing to go with you to 
 South America. When I assured her I was not, she 
 concluded that would decide you against going, and 
 added that young men with talents and energy could 
 make a livelihood here just as well as in other coun- 
 tries, to the climate of which they so often fall vic- 
 tims." 
 
 "But I am not willing to plod through life with a 
 mere support. I do not propose to waste my best 
 years in acquiring a competence only. I mean to be 
 rich. I can never be satisfied until I am a man of 
 wealth. I would be a fool not to avail myself of so 
 fine an opportunity to lay the foundation of wealth 
 as is now presented to me." 
 
 "Very well," his companion replied quietly; "you 
 go and secure your fortune. I will stay at home with 
 Aunt Annie, and if she lives, will be happy without 
 a fortune." 
 
 "But remember, Lillian, I will not be back in five 
 years-— perhaps not then." 
 
 "Of course your going breaks the engagement be- 
 tween us, and your return will depend upon your own 
 wishes and plans. ' ' 
 
LILLIAN AND GERALD 15 
 
 "But, Lillian, you belong to me. Your uncle gave 
 you to me." 
 
 "Yes, at my request, and then on condition that I 
 was not to marry you in two years. That time has 
 not elapsed, I am at liberty to dissolve our engage- 
 ment, which I now do by returning you your ring." 
 
 The young man was evidently unprepared for this 
 result to his interview. He had expected to induce 
 Lillian to accede to his wishes by united persuasion 
 and reasoning. On a former visit he had endeavored 
 to persuade her to marry him at once and go to Rio 
 Janeiro with hjjri. He had been offered a partnership 
 in the wealthy firm with which he was connected if 
 he would go to South America and attend to the busi- 
 ness in which the firm was interested there. He 
 thought Lillian very blind to her own interests to re- 
 fuse such an offer— -an offer which his vanity induced 
 him to think almost any girl would have accepted; 
 any girl, at least, in Lillian's circumstances. He was 
 really vexed at what he termed her short-sighted ob- 
 stinacy. 
 
 * 1 This offer to break our engagement is only to test 
 her power over me, and I wiil show my independence. 
 I will never give over to her," was his thought. After 
 a pause, during which he mechanically turned the ring 
 she had placed in his hand, he said: 
 
 "But, Lillian, you told your uncle you would be 
 miserable if you did not marry me. Will you condemn 
 yourself to a lifetime of unhappiness for the sake of 
 a fancied duty to your aunt? Will she allow you to 
 make such a sacrifice?" 
 
 "Aunt Annie would never consent to my taking any 
 step for her sake that would make me unhappy. But 
 I don 't think I will be. When uncle died, the sudden, 
 crushing blow overwhelmed me with the deepest grief. 
 I felt that I would never be happy again. His loss was 
 
16 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 the first great sorrow of which I had any actual knowl- 
 edge, and only those who have suffered severe bereave- 
 ment know how they crush our joys and blight our 
 hopes; but time has kindly softened even that great 
 sorrow, and now I feel that life has yet something in 
 store for me. Yes, much as I loved and deeply as I 
 still grieve for my dear uncle, still there is something 
 to live for. If you leave me as you propose, I have 
 faith to believe in time's softening effect. I shall try 
 to be happy without you, and think I shall succeed. ' ' 
 
 "You have ceased to love me, then?" he asked, 
 bitterly. "I have read so much of woman's constancy 
 I had begun to believe it a reality, but I find now that 
 such exists only in the imagination of the novelist or 
 the fancy of the poet. I have weighed your love in 
 the balance and found it wanting. I have tested it in . 
 the crucible of self-sacrifice and found it unable to 
 bear the test." 
 
 1 1 Really, Gerald, I do not think you can reproach 
 me so much, for if I have given you up, as you assert, 
 for Aunt Annie, none the less are you willing to give 
 me up for money. I feel unwilling to entrust my fu- 
 ture to anyone who does not evince a greater love for 
 me than for any other object. If you disregard my 
 wishes before marriage, you will be less likely to re- 
 gard them afterwards. I think in a true marriage 
 each party readily yields to the reasonable desires of 
 the other. Yes, you have tested my love and revealed 
 to me, as well as to yourself, that I do not love you 
 unselfishly, perhaps, as I ought — as devotedly as I onee 
 imagined I did. Forgive me, Gerald, if I give you 
 pain. I do not wish to wrong you in any way, but it 
 is best to be candid with each other in such a matter 
 as this. I am of the opinion now, as Uncle always 
 was, that what I imagined to be love was only a ro- 
 mantic girlish fancy, fostered by association. I think, 
 
LILLIAN AND GERALD 17 
 
 too, that your preference for me was the same, and 
 that absence will soon convince us that my surmise 
 is the correct one. ' ' 
 
 "No, Lillian, I love you truly and never so well as 
 now, when I am about to lose you. You have deceived 
 me. You have won my love — my first love — and now 
 toss it away as carelessly as a child does a broken toy. 
 You will win other hearts by your brilliant beauty, 
 but beware ! The coquette breaks many hearts, and the 
 last broken is usually her own ! Mark my prediction, 
 the time will come when the measure you are meting 
 to me will be measured to you again— when you will 
 love as I do and your love will be as little valued as 
 mine now is. You seem to blame me for going away 
 to make my fortune, as if I did not propose to share 
 that fortune with you. It is partly for your sake I 
 want to be rich and partly to fulfill a vow I made when 
 a boy that I would be a rich man. I will give you a 
 little sketch of my history of which I have hitherto 
 been silent. My own mother died when I was ten 
 years old, and my father married a rich widow, with 
 a son about my age. It was a good chance for my 
 father, who secured a life of luxurious ease, for the 
 widow was very generous towards him. Whether for 
 my unconcealed dislike to my father 's second marriage 
 or from some other cause, from the first time she saw 
 me, my step-mother seemed to be prejudiced against 
 me. For the first few months she seemed to ignore 
 my very existence, and I was glad it was so, but she 
 must have seen that I did not desire her notice and 
 determined not to gratify me to that extent, for she 
 soon made my life miserable by upbraiding me and 
 taunting me with my poverty and dependence, and 
 oh ! how it stung me, proud, sensitive boy as I was ! 
 In our boyish quarrels her son was always in the 
 right, and if I beat him, as I often did if he angered 
 
18 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEEE 
 
 me, her wrath boiled over and father was at once in- 
 formed of his son's terrible conduct. I tried to bear 
 my fate as best I could, hoping to get a good educa- 
 tion, which I knew would be all I would have to begin 
 life. I finished the course at the best boys' school in 
 the city in which we lived. I then asked father to 
 send me to a commercial college. He had to consult 
 his wife. She objected, whereupon a fierce quarrel 
 ensued between us. Father took her side, as for pol- 
 icy's sake he always did, and I left home, vowing that 
 my father should yet be proud to acknowledge the son 
 he was willing to throw out upon the world. The 
 woman's scornful laugh as I uttered that vow rings 
 in my ears yet, and will until I can make my assertion 
 true. Now, can you blame me, Lillian, for desiring 
 to be a rich man ? ' ' 
 
 "I am not going to blame you, Gerald, for doing 
 what you think will contribute to your happiness. 
 You have set your heart on riches and will never be 
 satisfied until you shall have obtained your desire. 
 While I do not undervalue money, at the same time I 
 do not overrate it, as I think many people do who 
 sacrifice so many of the real blessings of life in the 
 pursuit of fortune, and when it is secured, find to their 
 disappointment and sorrow that it does not give the 
 happiness they expected." 
 
 "I have heard that woman's intuition is quicker 
 than man's; that she could see more readily than he 
 what is for the best. I do not find it so in dealing 
 with you. I once thought, too, woman could love with 
 more tenderness than man, but that beautiful theory 
 vanishes, and I see only wilfulness, unreasonableness 
 and coquetry." 
 
 Lillian felt the bitter reproach most keenly, but she 
 was silent. The young man stepped forward and, 
 extending his hand, said coldly: 
 
LILLIAN AND GERALD 
 
 19 
 
 "I will not prolong this painful interview, which 
 I shall try to forget. If you think better of what I 
 propose, drop me a line. I leave Thursday. 
 
 As the sound of his footsteps ceased, his companion 
 began to walk up and down the room, her long mourn- 
 ing garments trailing behind her, and, by their con- 
 trast, increasing the regal beauty of their possessor. 
 Suddenly she stopped and said aloud to herself: 
 
 "I feel that I have done right. I can never regret 
 the step. Had Gerald been as noble and true as I 
 thought him, he would never have wished me to leave 
 dear Auntie, stricken with sudden sorrow and sick 
 unto death. How could he, when she has been as a 
 wise, loving mother to me? I shall never leave her, 
 and may God give me grace to bear the blow when ahe 
 shall be called from me." 
 
 Then, without a single trace of emotion upon the 
 sweet face, she ascended to her auntie's bedside. 
 
 It was the same home before alluded to, and the girl 
 was Lillian De Vere, then the petted child of fortune, 
 now developed into the beautiful woman which her 
 lovely childhood had promised. Ten years have passed 
 and brought sad changes to the once happy home. 
 Col. De Vere had died suddenly six months before. He 
 had invested almost all his large fortune in one specu- 
 lation, which seemed absolutely certain of doubling 
 the amount invested. He lost all, and the shock caused 
 his death. He fell dead on receiving the news. Mrs. 
 De Vere's health, always frail, had declined rapidly 
 after her husband 's death, and her end was approach- 
 ing. 
 
 Lillian unselfishly hid away the sorrows that almost 
 overwhelmed her and most untiringly and devotedly 
 nursed Auntie, w t 1io now in her sickness and bereave- 
 ment so much relied upon her for care and comfort. 
 Those were dark days indeed to the beautiful girl, 
 whose skies had hitherto been so bright and sunny. 
 
20 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 auntie's death. 
 
 Gerald Lemoine had for several years been Col. De 
 Vere 's secretary. He had come to him highly recom- 
 mended by the faculty of the commercial school of 
 which he had been a student. When questioned about 
 his family he had said he had not a tie in the world 
 and knew no one in the city. In the kindness of his 
 heart Col. De Vere took him into his own home, and 
 after a month's trial had said to Mrs. De Vere: 
 
 "Annie, I have secured a prize in Lemoine. He has 
 fine business talents and is so faithful and efficient. 
 If I had only had such a secretary before, I should 
 have saved myself much trouble and worry in the last 
 few years. I can trust him, too, not to reveal the se- 
 crets of business, for he is as stingy with his words 
 as he is with his money. I have never seen so silent 
 a man. You notice he never speaks at the table unless 
 spoken to, and never speaks in the office except on 
 business. ? 9 
 
 "Yes," Mrs. De Vere replied, "but while very reti- 
 cent himself, I notice he never misses a word— I think 
 not even an expression— of those about him." 
 
 \ i Strange enough, Annie, you have never liked him, 
 though you are usually so charitable with others ; but I 
 > think him a most estimable young man and a most ca- 
 pable and trustworthy assistant." 
 
 "I hope you will always esteem him so," was the 
 reply, with a doubt implied in the words. Then the 
 good woman took herself to task for being so preju- 
 diced against the young man and tried by extra kind- 
 ness to atone for it. Six months after he came to Col. 
 
AUNTIE'S DEATH 21 
 
 De Vere's, Lillian returned from boarding school and 
 at once became a favorite in society. Her brilliant 
 beauty, graceful figure and sweet, gentle disposition, 
 united with her prospects of being a great heiress, 
 made her the acknowledged belle of the season. She 
 had some of the most eligible offers, not only in the 
 city in which she lived, but of many adjacent cities. 
 To all she gave a kind but firm refusal. 
 
 "I feel that I belong to Uncle and Auntie," she 
 said. "I cannot leave them." After she had been 
 at home a few months Col. De Vere laughingly said 
 one morning, after Lemoine had hurried to the office : 
 " Annie, I think Lillian's sunny smiles and genial 
 manner have melted even Gerald's icy nature. He 
 seems to enjoy society now as much as he was for- 
 merly averse to it." Lillian looked up quickly and 
 said : 
 
 ' ' That was because he knew no girls here, Uncle, be- 
 fore I came. Now he is acquainted with them, he 
 likes them, and he is very popular with them. They 
 think him handsome and he is a graceful dancer, has 
 a fine baritone voice and is a brilliant talker when he 
 pleases to exert himself." 
 
 ' 'Just listen, Annie," Col. De Vere said. "Our 
 little fairy, with her magic wand, has transformed 
 the misanthrope into society's prince. Here's to her 
 health, and may she always be able to bend everybody 
 and every circumstance to her own sweet will in her 
 pathway through life." 
 
 He little dreamed in what way ere long she would 
 wished to bend him to her will. If so, his laugh as he 
 left the room would not have been so light. Six months 
 afterwards he was astounded when Lemoine asked Lil- 
 lian 's hand in marriage. He had never thought of 
 such a consummation and was not pleased with it. He 
 liked the young man as a clerk, but not as Lillian's 
 
22 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 husband. No, no ! The very mention of such a thing 
 almost took his breath away, and before he could re- 
 cover Lemoine said, in the coolest, matter-of-fact way : 
 4 'You seem surprised/' 
 
 "I am indeed surprised," was the reply. "You 
 must be joking. Surely Lillian has not given you tho 
 right to make such a request of me?" 
 
 "Indeed she has. We have plighted our mutual 
 troth. At first she demurred a little when I spoke of 
 mentioning our engagement to you, but when I con- 
 vinced her it was the most honorable mode and was 
 due to you as her guardian, she withdrew her opposi- 
 tion, and I await your reply." 
 
 1 ' I must see Lillian before I give you an answer, ' ' 
 and he was gone without another word. The young 
 man bit his lip and an angry flush mounted to his fore- 
 head, but there was a gleam of triumph in his eye and 
 a smile of satisfaction upon his dark face as he said 
 to himself: "Lillian, in her pity for my loneliness 
 and lovelessness, will plead for me and conquer as she 
 always does. I had expected to have to climb the lad- 
 der to wealth and social position slowly, but lo ! I 
 have scaled it at one bound. I have secured a wealthy 
 wife and one of beauty as well. I am an admirer of 
 beauty, but could not afford the luxury of a penniless 
 bride, however beautiful. Gerald Lemoine, you are a 
 lucky dog after all ! 'It will give me great satisfaction 
 to send to my stepmother xne account of my marriage. 
 I can imagine how it will read! 'The talented young 
 secretary to the lovely, accomplished Lillian De Vere, 
 the heiress of her uncle's immense fortune.' " 
 
 Col. De Vere yielded, in spite of his better judg- 
 ment, to Lillian's pleading when he urged his opposi- 
 tion to her marriage with Lemoine. 
 
 "Uncle, he has no one but me to love him—no 
 mother, no sister— and my love can brighten and beau- 
 
AUNTIE'S DEATH 
 
 23 
 
 tify Ills life and encourage him to rise to the position 
 in the world which his talents can command. Now, 
 Uncle, don't make us both unhappy by refusing your 
 consent, which we both so much desire. ' ' 
 
 Col. De Vere at last consented, on condition that the 
 marriage be put off for two years, and if, at the end 
 of that time, Lillian still desired to marry the young 
 man, he would allow it, but would never be willing to 
 it. How earnestly he hoped that something would oc- 
 cur to break it all up, little dreaming his death and 
 loss of property would be the obstruction in the way. 
 But so it was. When the shock of her uncle's death 
 and auntie's extreme illness almost crushed her and 
 she looked to her promised husband for comfort and 
 support, she found him deploring more deeply the 
 loss of the property than that of his employer, 
 and when he received the appointment to South 
 America, he seemed utterly to disregard all 
 claims her aunt had upon her, and when urging 
 her to go, showed only the pecuniary advantages 
 to be gained. At last Lillian was forced to the 
 conclusion that the man she had made the hero of her 
 girlish romance loved money and his plans better than 
 anything else, even herself. It was hard to convince 
 herself of this, but when she was convinced, the scales 
 fell from her eyes and she saw that what she thought 
 was love on her part was only pity, which, though 
 akin to love, is not love itself. This pity he had 
 aroused by playing upon the chords of her sympa- 
 thetic nature. Innocent of deceit herself, she believed 
 others as true as they seemed. 
 
 By dint of manj^ questions Mrs. De Vere found out 
 how matters stood between Lillian and Gerald after 
 their last interview. While her heart sympathized 
 with the girl over whose bright life so thick a pall of 
 sorrows had fallen, yet she was secretly delighted at 
 
24 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 the termination of Lillian's first love affair. She had 
 been as much opposed to its consummation as Col. De 
 Vere had been, but deemed it wise to be silent in re- 
 gard to it, leaving all to Col. De Vere's judgment. She 
 had suspected Gerald Lemoine's sordid, selfish disposi- 
 tion from the first, and as she watched the man closely, 
 felt the conviction grow upon her that his silent, reti- 
 cent nature was but a cloak for his real nature, which 
 was sinister and mean. It was almost torture to her 
 to think of Lillian 's giving her noble womanhood, with 
 its many lovely traits, into the keeping of such a man. 
 If she could have foreseen her darling's future, would 
 she not have chosen even that fate for her, rather than 
 that which was in store for her? Ah, surely. What 
 a mercy we do not know the future ! If we could know 
 the rugged hill we have to climb, could see in advance 
 the bleeding feet, the torn hands, the aching head, the 
 fainting heart, the chasms and pitfalls that stand in 
 the way of our ascent, could we ever find courage to 
 start up, though the hill was crowned with the city of 
 God, and the Sun of righteousness shed His blessed 
 sunlight on the way? I trow not. 
 
 When fully assured the affair was at an end, and 
 Lillian was not unhappy on account of it, Auntie con- 
 fided the story to her widowed sister, Mrs. Stafford, 
 who had come from her home in a distant state to be 
 with her in her last moments. A few days before her 
 death she put her hand on Lillian's head as she knelt 
 by her bedside and said : 
 
 "My darling, do not grieve so over my leaving you. 
 I do not dread death, for my Shepherd will go with 
 me through the valley and dissipate the shadow, and 
 I fear no evil with Him as a guide. Sometimes I fancy 
 I hear the voices on the other side softly calling me 
 to come over and be at rest. I have more loved ones 
 who have gone before than on this side. Alice is sole 
 
AUNTIE'S DEATH 
 
 25 
 
 representative of our family left, and you are, so far 
 as we know, the only one left of your father's or 
 mother's family. Alice has promised to love and care 
 for you as I have done and you will bless and comfort 
 her with the sweet affection that has been one of my 
 greatest pleasures. How richly has the promise been 
 fulfilled to me, 'Cast thy bread upon the waters and 
 thou shalt find it after many days.' From the mo- 
 ment you first put your sweet baby arms around my 
 neck and laid your soft, velvety cheek to mine and 
 lisped in sweetest baby tones, ' Auntie, I love you,' you 
 have been as dear to me as if you had been my own, 
 and I have watched your growth to womanhood with 
 a pride almost equal to that of your uncle, whose one 
 aim in life was your happiness and welfare." 
 
 Putting Lillian's hand in that of Mrs. Stafford 
 she said, solemnly: 
 
 "My dear Alice, I give Lillian into your care. Be 
 a mother to her when I am gone. ' ' 
 
26 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERB 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MOSS SIDE. 
 
 About a quarter of a century before the present date 
 of our story Moss Side was a lovely old country place. 
 It was the home of Mr. Duncan, his charming wife, 
 and two beautiful daughters, Annie and Alice. It 
 Was a large white building, with green blinds and 
 porches on all sides, allowing you to court or avoid 
 the sun at will, and from which you could always 
 get a view of the river, here a noble stream, so broad 
 and deep it could carry vessels of large tonnage on its 
 bosom. The house was built on a slight rise, sloping 
 gradually to the country road which ran parallel to 
 the river. This slope was a velvety lawn, in which a 
 few noble trees had been allowed to stand. Under 
 these were rustic seats, inviting you to rest and enjoy 
 the scene, ever an attractive one to a lover of rural 
 beauty. There was an enclosed yard, in which the 
 choicest flowers grew luxuriantly. Climbing vines in 
 summer almost hid the front porch and roses grew 
 everywhere. In winter a conservatory on the south 
 side furnished brightness and bloom enough to com- 
 pensate for the loss made by the winter king. Inside 
 everything denoted wealth and taste. Every room 
 was the very embodiment of comfort and ease. All 
 the rooms on one side of the wide hall above and below 
 were furnished with old furniture. Much of it had 
 been heirlooms in the family for many generations; 
 some had been new when Mr. and Mrs. Duncan were 
 married ; every piece was endeared to them and price- 
 less on account of the sweet associations that clus- 
 tered around it. Old portraits, the features of which 
 
MOSS SIDE 
 
 27 
 
 had been almost obliterated by time's ravages, were 
 . fresh as ever in the memory of the loved ones who 
 gazed upon them with fondest affection ; old pictures, 
 old vases in silver and glass, and old chairs that grand- 
 ma and grandpa had sat on, old couches that were the 
 synonyms of comfort, old curtains that were still ele- 
 gant—everything old but tasteful made mamma's and 
 papa's rooms the dearest, sweetest place in the world 
 to the two girls, who were devotedly attached to their 
 parents. The old organ that had been Mrs. Duncan's 
 when a girl had still a sweet, pure tone and sounded 
 better to Mr. Duncan when touched by the hand he 
 loved so well than the line new piano in the girls' 
 parlor, and nothing gave him greater pleasure than 
 to sing with Mrs. Duncan the favorite hymns and 
 songs of "auld lang syne," and the young people were 
 always delighted to get them to sing. Mrs Dun- 
 can played the accompaniment^ and her husband stood 
 by assisting her and turning the leaves, as he had done 
 when she was a blithe girl and his first and only love. 
 
 The west side of the house was furnished in the most 
 modern and tasteful style of the day. Everything was 
 fresh and bright, like the sweet young lives who 
 claimed this side of the house as their special domain. 
 In the dining room, a large, airy room at the end of 
 the hall, the old and new were beautifully blended. 
 The tea set of quaint design which had supplied many 
 generations with the fragrant beverage, the china that 
 seemed to retain some intangible evidence of by-gone 
 days and people— to speak, as it were, of lips that had 
 touched it, of hands that had held it— the costly cut- 
 glass of unique pattern, all with the dignity of age, 
 appeared to smile in contempt at their neighbors, the 
 more shining articles of use and ornament which lav- 
 ishly adorned the room, but together they made a fine 
 
28 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 effect, like a choice picture, of age and joyous youth. 
 Sj[rs. Duncan used to say: 
 
 "We want the girls to have everything to make 
 them happy in the present, for young people live in 
 the present, while we old people find our greatest 
 pleasure in reviewing the past." 
 
 'Yet two more delightful old people than Mr. and 
 Mrs. Duncan could not be found. They were kind 
 and hospitable, extending a hearty welcome to all who 
 deserved it, entering into the enjoyment of the young 
 people with zest and abetting them in every innocent 
 pleasure. This made Moss Side the social center of 
 attraction in that entire community. In a word, Moss 
 Side was an ideal country home. The river was a 
 source of endless pleasure to the two girls, who had 
 been reared on its banks and loved nothing better than 
 a row upon its waters. If there was no one else handy, 
 Alice, buoyant with health and youth, would herself 
 seize the oars and give Annie a ride, often accompany- 
 ing the strokes of the oars with a boating song which 
 floated over the waters and cheered all who heard it. 
 Randolph Hall, universally conceded to be the oldest 
 and most beautiful country seat in the state, was two 
 miles distant. The family of the Hall consisted of Dr. 
 and Mrs. Nelson and their two children, Sydney Nel- 
 son and Marguerite, usually called Margie. There 
 had always been great intimacy between the families 
 at the Hall and Moss Side. The girls had gone to 
 school together at home, and at the same boarding 
 school had been roommates and classmates, which had 
 cemented their friendship. Scarcely a day passed 
 without some communication between the members of 
 the two families. The first break in the happiness of 
 the two homes occurred when a handsome young 
 French gentleman came to the neighborhood to hunt 
 and fish. He met fair Annie Duncan, and after a 
 
MOSS SIDE 29 
 
 year's courtship, wooed and won her, taking her to his 
 own far-off city home. Sydney Nelson had long loved 
 the gentle girl and only waited to finish his medical 
 education to ask her to become his wife. He comforted 
 himself, however, by bringing home with him after 
 his graduation a beautiful girl of French extraction, 
 Elise Devereux. For several years after her marriage 
 Annie paid a yearly visit to the old home. On her 
 return from one of these visits the train was wrecked, 
 and though she received no external injury, she was 
 never well afterwards, the shock having caused ner- 
 vous prostration. Even the shriek of the locomotive 
 unnerved her, and she could never afterwards endure 
 the thought of traveling, but she cheered the loved 
 ones at home by long, bright letters every week, in 
 which she always spoke of the lovely child they had 
 adopted as their own. After a few years Alice mar- 
 ried a Mr. Stafford, a merchant of the nearest city. 
 The old couple gave their consent only on condition 
 that Alice should not leave them, and arrangements 
 were made by which Mr. Stafford could go to his busi- 
 ness and return every day. The cars going to the city 
 passed the little town of Melton, three miles distant, 
 and returned at dark. For ten years there were few 
 changes in the two homes save what time naturally 
 makes. Then a malignant fever broke out in the 
 neighborhood, carrying off with one fell stroke Dr. 
 and Mrs. Nelson and the lovely Margie. At Moss Side 
 it was equally fatal. Mr. Stafford and his three bright, 
 beautiful children fell victims to it. Alice bore the 
 severe blow bravely for the sake of her parents, who 
 seemed crushed by so many sad afflictions falling upon 
 them. They missed the sweet young lives that had 
 wound themselves so closely around their affections and 
 they mourned Mr. Stafford as if he had been their own 
 son, for as such he had been to them. They mourned 
 
30 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERB 
 
 most of all for their beloved daughter, whose hopes 
 had been so suddenly crushed. They never rallied 
 from the shock. Mr. Duncan died a few years after 
 from heart disease, and in two more years Mrs. Duncan 
 followed him. Alice was left alone in the old home. 
 Col. De Vere tried in vain to get her to come to his 
 home, urging Annie 's feeble health as an incentive, but 
 she preferred to stay in the home of her birth to which 
 so many pleasant as well as sad associations attached 
 her. She remained in the house with the housekeeper 
 and a few trusty servants. The manager of the estate 
 lived sufficiently near by for protection. 
 
 She was preparing to make Mrs. De Vere an ex- 
 tended visit when the news of Col. De Vere's sudden 
 death reached her. She hurried at once to her sister's 
 bedside, which she never left until the beloved wife 
 was laid by her husband's side and a handsome monu- 
 ment had been erected to their memory. From her sis- 
 ter ? s letters she had expected to find Lillian a beautiful 
 girl, but she was unprepared for the vision of almost 
 perfect loveliness that threw her arms lovingly around 
 her at first sight and called her "Aunt Alice" in a 
 voice so sweet it won her heart at once, and when in 
 after days she studied her and found her to possess 
 a disposition in perfect accord with her lovely features 
 she gladly accepted the guardianship of the young 
 girl. Like Mrs. De Vere, she was much relieved when 
 Lillian voluntarily gave up Gerald Lemoine and in- 
 stead gave herself into her future keeping. She had 
 once said to her sister : 
 
 "Annie, I used to smile at your description of Lil- 
 lian, for I knew everybody you loved fondly was beau- 
 tiful in your eyes, but like the Queen of Sheba, the 
 half has not been told, What a sensation she will pro- 
 duce in our quiet little world!' 7 
 
WALTER BRUNETTE 31 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WALTER BRUNETTE. 
 
 It was near the close of a bright summer day. There 
 was a larger number of loungers than usual at the 
 little station of Melton awaiting the arrival of the 
 evening train and there was the usual stir and bustle 
 when the prolonged whistle and black smoke indicated 
 its approach. A very handsome young man stood near 
 the reception room, listlessly watching the arrivals 
 as they issued from the train. The last to get off were 
 two ladies dressed in deep mourning. One was of mid- 
 dle age. with a sad, sweet expression on her fine face; 
 the other was a young girl, from whose face the long 
 veil was thrown, revealing its exquisite loveliness. At 
 sight of that face the young man's listlessness was 
 gone and he exclaimed to himself : 
 
 "By Jove! What a beauty! A perfect Hebe ! A 
 Helen of Troy— a Cleopatra— -a— a— " He stopped 
 short as if he found words inadequate for a suitable 
 comparison. "Who can it be? Ah, she is with Mrs. 
 Stafford. I shall find out if I lose my head for it. ' ' 
 
 A few minutes later he was greeting Mrs. Stafford 
 with unusual cordiality and was acknowledging with 
 a graceful bow an introduction to Miss Lillian De 
 Yere. When the girl raised her beautiful eyes to his 
 she encountered such a look of undisguised admiration 
 a slight blush suffused her cheek, increasing, if pos- 
 sible, her peerless beauty. So, at least, the young man 
 thought. 
 
 He accompanied thew to the carriage in waiting 
 and asked and received permission for an early visit. 
 For a while Mrs. Stafford seemed lost in a painful rev-. 
 
32 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 erie as the familiar scenes passed before her, but she 
 was soon aroused by Lillian's exclamations of delight 
 at the beauty of the scenery, every bend in the road 
 presenting fine panoramic views of the river and wood- 
 land, keenly appreciated by Lillian, whose nature was 
 sensitive to everything beautiful in nature or art. 
 When the next day Aunt Alice took her over Moss 
 Side and she reveled in its many attractions, she 
 said : 
 
 ' 6 Aunt Alice, I do not wonder you and Auntie loved 
 your home so much ; it is the sweetest place, the most 
 homelike, I ever saw, and I know I shall be very happy 
 here. I am not surprised that the tears should well up 
 in Auntie 's eyes sometimes when she talked of her old 
 home and home joys." 
 
 The next evening as they drove along the river road 
 in Aunt Alice's pony phaeton, Lillian taking her first 
 lesson in driving, she suddenly asked : 
 
 i 4 Aunt Alice, who is that Mr. Brunette to whom you 
 introduced me yesterday? As he was my first ac- 
 quaintance here, I am somewhat interested in him." 
 
 Mrs. Stafford replied: 
 
 "His name is Walter Brunette. He lives with his 
 mother at a fine old place called Cuckoo's Nest, on the 
 river bank, about two miles from Moss Side. He is the 
 only child of his mother, and she is a widow. His 
 father, one of the noblest and best of men, died when 
 Walter was but three years old. Mr. Brunette was 
 fond of society and during his life entertained his 
 friends handsomely. He was a friend of my husband, 
 and while he lived we were frequently guests at his 
 home. Since his death his wife has been averse to so- 
 ciety, and when at home lives a secluded life. Mr. 
 Brunette left Walter a handsome fortune, of which 
 he came in possession at his majority two years ago. 
 Besides, his mother has wealth which will eventually 
 
WALTER BRUNETTE 
 
 33 
 
 be his. He has fine prospects for the future. I think 
 he inherited some of his father's good qualities, which, 
 by judicious training, would have made him as fine a 
 specimen of manhood morally as he is physically. I 
 do not know a handsomer, finer-looking man, but from 
 infancy he was so indulged that at five years of age 
 his will was the law of his mother's household. No 
 one dared to oppose him nor to reprove him about any- 
 thing. Even at that early age he was a terror to the 
 servants. When he became old enough to study his 
 mother engaged the best known teachers for him, but 
 none of them could stand him long. When he became 
 ten years old his mother took him off to some large city 
 for superior educational advantages. They did not 
 return until Walter attained his majority. A report 
 came during her absence that Mrs. Brunette had mar- 
 ried again. It must have been a mistake, as I have 
 lately heard nothing about it, and she still has her 
 former name. I have seen very little of Walter since 
 he returned. Rumor says he is engaged, with his 
 mother's consent, to a Miss Evelyn B^rown, a first 
 cousin, and heiress to quite a little fortune. She came 
 back with them and stayed some time, but I believe 
 she has returned home now, it is said to make prepara- 
 tions for her marriage in the fall. I saw her once. 
 She is a pretty little brunette. I tell you this that you 
 may not give your heart to Walter Brunette, for if 
 there was no cousin in the way, though he is handsome, 
 accomplished and wealthy, still I would not be willing 
 to give you to him, for men reared in self-indulgence 
 as he was, never make good, kind husbands. They are 
 selfish, self-willed and exacting. His mother was never 
 popular. Proud, scornful, imperious and high-tem- 
 pered, she was not much regretted when she withdrew 
 from society and announced her intention of devoting 
 
34 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERB 
 
 herself exclusively to the rearing of her child, whom 
 she loves idolatrously . ' ' 
 
 "Does her son return this devotion ?" Lillian asked. 
 
 "I do not know in this particular instance, but it 
 most frequently happens that the mothers who make 
 slaves of themselves for their children lose the love 
 and even respect of those for whom they sacrifice them- 
 selves. I doubt if Walter Brunette is an exception to 
 the rule. I assuredly would not have you stand in the 
 way of Fannie Brunette's wishes. The family on her 
 side, I have heard, are so self-willed they never give up 
 anything they undertake, but pursue it in the face of 
 opposition that would deter others, even the most de- 
 termined. Walter Brunette may try to flirt with you, 
 or if he so will, may give up the other love for you. In 
 either case, beware. ' ' 
 
 " Forewarned, forearmed/ ' was the laughing re- 
 joinder. 
 
 A few days after this Walter Brunette called to see 
 Lillian and was afterwards a frequent visitor at Moss 
 Side. He soon became Lillian's constant companion 
 in her rides on land and water. Aunt Alice had given 
 her a beautiful black pony, which she had named 
 "Cloud," and often when she started out alone, Wal- 
 ter Brunette would meet her or overtake her, and thus 
 accidentally as it seemed, become her escort. 
 
 Mrs. Stafford viewed this state of affairs with un- 
 easiness and often spoke to Lillian about it, who tried 
 in vain to show her indifference to the young man's 
 society without absolute rudeness. 
 
 "Do not anger him, Lillian," Aunt Alice would 
 say. ' ' He is a man whose ill-will I would be sorry for 
 you to get. Treat him politely, but let him know you 
 can be only a friend. If he is trying to flirt with you 
 
WALTER BRUNETTE 
 
 35 
 
 it will be your safeguard. If he loves you he cannot 
 blame you if you refuse him." 
 
 Acting on this advice Lillian avoided the young man 
 in every way possible, declining to accompany him 
 as often as she dared, and still he came, almost daily, 
 singing lqye songs to her in his fine baritone voice, 
 reading to her love scenes in the most impressive man- 
 ner. He was a fine reader, and sometimes she listened 
 almost entranced as he made the words of impassioned 
 love his own and gazed into her eyes, beaming with 
 interest, with a look that frightened her. Then she 
 would say, as carelessly as she could: 
 
 " Don't read any more. It is too lovesick— too un- 
 real. Who ever heard of people of ordinary common 
 sense talking so much nonsense ?" 
 
 Then he would say, in a voice that trembled with 
 emotion : 
 
 " You do not believe what you say. You know love 
 is real— the grandest passion of life. Without it hu- 
 manity would be little above the brutes, while we have 
 been made a little lower than the angels by means of 
 this emotion that permeates our being and proclaims 
 the divinity within us." 
 
 "We will not discuss the question further," Lillian 
 would say, with a light laugh, disguising her own feel- 
 ings that she might not encourage him in the love she 
 was afraid he was beginning to feel for her. Finally 
 she declined going with him anywhere and persuaded 
 Aunt Alice to be present in all their interviews at 
 home. On one occasion, as they sat in the front porch 
 one lovely moonlight night, Mrs. Stafford spoke of 
 Miss Brown, and then significantly asked Mr. Brunette 
 when he was going to bring her home for a permanent 
 stay, as Madame Rumor said he would. A slight 
 frown contracted his brow, but his voice was very 
 steady and his manner cool as 3ae answered : 
 
36 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 1 'My cousin will not make her permanent home with 
 us until the death of her father. If that should occur 
 she might come to live with us, as we are her nearest 
 relatives.' 9 
 
 "We have been misinformed, then, in regard to 
 your early marriage with your cousin ? ' ' Mrs. Stafford 
 asked. 
 
 "It is altogether a mistake/' was the firm answer. 
 
 Nothing more was said on the subject, but Lillian 
 felt a sinking of the heart for which she could not ac- 
 count—a presentiment of coming evil. Was it be- 
 cause of Walter Brunette 's words ? Why should they 
 affect her thus? 
 
RANDOLPH HALL 
 
 37 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 RANDOLPH HALL. 
 
 Randolph Hall was built more than a century before 
 Dr. Nelson's time, by a wealthy and eccentric ancestor, 
 who expressed his intention to build a house and pre- 
 pare a home of which future generations should be 
 justly proud. Accordingly he selected the site on an 
 eminence overlooking the river and employed the most 
 skilled architects to carry out his design. No expense 
 nor pains were spared to make it what he desired, and 
 Randolph Hall was the result. It was built of dark 
 stone, with steps of the same substantial material, 
 while the stately columns, cornices and window fac- 
 ings were of dark gray marble, highly polished. The 
 interior corresponded in every way with the grandeur 
 of the exterior. The rooms were large and the ceilings 
 most beautifully frescoed. The furniture was mas- 
 sive and elegant, the carpets and draperies costly and 
 of exquisite design. The walls were covered with 
 paintings, rare gems of art, and statues, urns, vases, 
 and busts of great value adorned the rooms. Mirrors, 
 of which the old squire was very fond, reached from 
 ceiling to floor, repeating the beauty of their sur- 
 roundings. There were libraries of choice books and 
 musical instruments of many kinds, for the old gen- 
 tleman claimed to be a musician, and no one contra- 
 dicted his claim. The grounds were extensive and 
 tastefuly laid out. His flowers, most of them rare ex- 
 otics, were his special pride. They grew in great pro- 
 fusion in the ground in summer and were as beauti- 
 ful, if less luxuriant, in conservatories in winter. 
 Into this fine cage the old squire brought his bird, 
 
38 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 a fair young bride, though he was past fifty. His 
 bride's maiden name was Randolph and he named 
 their home in her honor. Only one child, a son, was 
 born of this union, and strangely enough, but one 
 child, and that the eldest son of each succeeding gen- 
 eration, had lived to attain his majority. Other chil- 
 dren, girls and boys, had been born into_ the families, 
 but none of them lived to full manhood or woman- 
 hood. Superstitious people said this was a curse which 
 had come upon the family because the old squire, the 
 original owner of the hall, had been accustomed to 
 say, "More than one child in a family, and that a son. 
 is a nuisance," Physicians said the eldest sons of the 
 family had inherited the strong, sturdy nature of the 
 Nelsons, while the others had taken the more delicate 
 organization of the mother. Dr. Nelson had been a 
 lineal descendant of Squire Nelson and had, after 
 Margie 's death, been the sole survivor and heir of the 
 Hall and estate. When he had brought beautiful Elise 
 Devereux to the Hall as his bride, she had said she 
 loved bright modern suroundings rather than the 
 musty old things of past grandeur. After his pa- 
 rents' death, Dr. Nelson, to please her, had the Hall 
 modernized and beautified. Bay windows and ve- 
 randas were added, a turret which commanded a fine 
 view of the river and adjacent country crowned the 
 building. All the rooms Elise occupied were refur- 
 nished and a large retinue of servants employed. These 
 improvements, which added greatly to the architec- 
 tural beauty of the building, cost a large smn of 
 money, but Elise had been reared by a brother many 
 years her senior, who had indulged her every wish. 
 Her husband must continue to gratify her desires, 01; 
 she might become unhappy. The old squire had left 
 a large estate and income, but succeeding generations 
 had gradually depleted the coffers, and when Dr. Nel- 
 
RANDOLPH HALL 
 
 39 
 
 son came into possession of the property there wa§ 
 not enough to carry out the wishes of his wife and 
 the expenses of the style in which she delighted, so the 
 Hall had to be mortgaged, and now Robert Nelson, the 
 present owner, found himself, on coming of age, in 
 debt. His father had told him something of his em* 
 barrassment and had advised him after finishing his 
 education to return to the Hall and try by good man- 
 agement to redeem his estate. Robert Nelson, while he 
 possessed a tall, slender figure and had a pale, intel- 
 lectual cast of countenance, with small, clear-cut fea- 
 tures, was nevertheless of a strong, healthy constitu- 
 tion, enjoying almost perfect health. Helen, as if in 
 obedience to the fatality that had attended the preced- 
 ing families of her father's race, was very frail and 
 delicate. The members of the family had as time 
 went by become sensitive over this fatality, and Dr. 
 Nelson especially so. He had reared Helen with the 
 greatest care. He was proud of his noble, talented son, 
 a worthy representative of his race; but Helen was 
 the object of his tenderest affections. She was so lov- 
 ing, so gentle in her nature, she endeared everyone 
 to her. Once when her father unconsciously showed 
 his anxiety for her health she had said, laughingly: 
 'Papa, you rear me as a hothouse plant. Why not 
 let me take the weather as it comes and become a hardy 
 annual ? ' ' 
 
 "Not like a hothouse plant, my dear, but like a rare 
 exotic, that we shield carefully from the cold and 
 frost, ere it has rooted, lest it wither under the rude 
 blasts. By our care we show our love for it. ' ' 
 
 "Rare exotic, indeed, papa! Nothing but a very 
 commonplace little country flower ! ' ' she had said, with 
 a loving smile. She had quiet tastes, loved books and 
 was passionately fond of music— was a fine pianist ancl 
 
40 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 had a low, sweet voice, which gave pleasure to all who 
 heard her sing. Her father never tired of hearing her 
 sing his favorite hymns and ballads. Robert was 
 eighteen and Helen fifteen years old when Dr. Nelson 
 died. Mrs. Nelson had died several years before. Di\ 
 Nelson had grieved to leave Helen more than anything 
 else. He had said: 4 6 Robert is strong and self-reliant. 
 He can battle with life's trials, but who can care for 
 my darling Helen as her father has done?" 
 
 Before he died he commended Helen to Robert's 
 special care, saying: 
 
 ' k I have seen, with much satisfaction, the deep af- 
 fection between you, and can trust you to shield her 
 from every shock, every care, every sorrow. The slen- 
 der thread of her life is verv brittle." Helen was 
 
 «/ 
 
 now eighteen years old. Few of the family had 
 reached that age, but the old people who believed in 
 the superstition shook their heads and said her time 
 was coming. Care might prolong her life awhile, 
 but it could not avert the fate in store for her. 
 
 Henri Devereux, the half-brother of Elise, to whose 
 care her father had committed her at his death, and 
 who had loved her very fondly, had been angered by 
 her marrying Sydney Nelson in opposition to his 
 wishes, and would afterwards hold no communication 
 with her. He had intended her to marry his dearest 
 friend, who, like himself, was a native-born French- 
 man. Not even the news of her death seemed to move 
 him, so great had been his estrangement from her ; but 
 as the days passed by a great longing came over him to 
 see the children of Elise. He learned that Robert was 
 at school in Princeton, and he made a special visit there 
 to see him. He saw in Robert a striking resemblance 
 to his mother, and at once became interested and made 
 himself known to the young man, who held himself 
 proudly aloof from the man who had treated his 
 
RANDOLPH HALL 
 
 41 
 
 mother so harshly, for no other reason than that she 
 .had married the man she loved. 
 
 Helen, with her sweet, clinging nature, buried all 
 resentment, and loved him for her dear mother's sake, 
 and even the stern man who had disliked so much the 
 father whom she resembled melted under her affec* 
 tionate disposition and learned to love her very dearly. 
 
42 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A VISIT TO RANDOLPH HALL. 
 
 One evening as Mrs. Stafford and Lillian were driv- 
 ing they noticed as they approached Randolph Hall 
 that one of the large iron gates through which vehicles 
 were accustomed to pass was open. 
 
 ' ' Let us drive in, ' ' Mrs. Stafford said. " It is proba- 
 ble Mrs. Coles has heard from Robert and Helen and 
 they are coming home. When I last saw him Robert 
 said he would be at home this fall." 
 
 Lillian gladly guided the horse in that direction, 
 She had long had a desire to have a nearer view and 
 a better acquaintance with the grand old building she 
 had so much admired from a distance. As they can- 
 tered up the wide graveled carriage-way Lillian ex- 
 claimed : ' ' Eveything is in perfect order, Aunt Alice. 
 Just look at the shaven lawn, the chrysanthemums so 
 nicely cared for, and the roses so nicely arranged and 
 freed from imperfect and shattered ones. It doesn't 
 look at all as if the master and mistress were absent. ' ■ 
 
 "Yes," Mrs. Stafford answered, "everything is kept 
 up as it has always been. Mrs. Coles and her brother, 
 who have long been here, and are much attached to 
 the family, carry out their wishes in regard to every- 
 thing as nearly as they can. But here comes Mrs. 
 Coles." 
 
 The housekeeper greeted Mrs. Stafford cordially, 
 and said in answer to Mrs. Stafford's question : 
 
 "Yes, ma'am; Mr. Robert and Miss Helen are com- 
 ing. They wrote last week and said I must have the 
 house aired and made ready for them, as they may 
 come after a day's notice. Miss Helen is not so well, 
 
A VISIT TO RANDOLPH HALL 
 
 43 
 
 the letter said, and is pining for home. I know she is, 
 the dear young lady. She loves the Hall better than 
 any place in the world, and nothing but being near her 
 Buddie while he was studying would have induced her 
 to leave it. His studies are over now, and he said in 
 his letter they were coming home for good. You know, 
 Miss Alice, that makes me so happy. I love them so 
 much, and do hope their being at home will get Miss 
 Helen well and strong ; but I much fear she has that 
 weakness of the heart her poor mother had, and which 
 finally killed her. When she is excited about anything 
 I have seen her put her hand to her heart. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Stafford asked if she could take Lillian over 
 the house. 
 
 "Certainly, ma'am. It is all cleaned up and ready 
 for Mr. Robert and Miss Helen, and they said some-, 
 thing about bringing company with them." 
 
 What a delight it was to Lillian to go over the house, 
 so magnificently and tastily furnished ! Every room 
 seemed more beautiful than the preceding one, and 
 called forth exclamations of wonder and delight. Mrs. 
 Stafford took her to the picture gallery. What an 
 array of beauty and stately pride there was in the 
 family portraits ! Lillian had learned of all the later 
 ones from Mrs. Stafford, and gazed upon them with 
 great interest. Tears came into her eyes as she looked 
 into the bright, intelligent face of sweet Margie, whom 
 Auntie and Aunt Alice had loved so dearly, and who 
 had died so young. Mrs. Stafford called her attention 
 to the portraits of two beautiful children, telling her 
 they were Robert and Helen Nelson at six and three 
 years. Below them on easels were the latest portraits, 
 taken just before they left home. Helen had inherited 
 from her father fair complexion, blue eyes and light 
 hair. There was a pleasant smile on her fair, sweet 
 
u 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 face, and a soft look in the clear blue eyes, that made 
 her countenance very attractive. 
 
 1 4 Isn 't she lovely. Aunt Alice ! ' ' Lillian asked. 1 4 1 
 know I shall love her dearly if I ever see her." 
 
 14 Yes. she is indeed a lovely girl, and I trust you 
 will be good friends. Robert inherited his mother's 
 dark eyes and hair and line, regular features." 
 
 As she looked thoughtfully at his portrait Mrs. Staf- 
 ford continued : 
 
 14 Robert is not strikingly handsome, like Walter 
 Brunette, but he has a face which, like his character, 
 grows in attractiveness as you study it. Notice the 
 broad, intellectual forehead, the thoughtful eyes, the 
 kindly expression, the beautifully shaped mouth, that 
 seems about to greet you. The mustache gives him an 
 older, more manly appearance, which accords well with 
 his position as the young squire of the Hall. It is a 
 noble face, fair index of a noble character.*'' 
 
 Lillian did not express her opinion; indeed, she was 
 too busy studying the other faces, of whom Aunt Alice 
 had told her, for the members of the family had often 
 been a subject of conversation between Lillian and her 
 aunt. After they had gone through most of the rooms 
 Lillian mounted to the turret and called down to 
 Aunt Alice, who did not care to climb the steps : 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Alice, the scene is entrancingly beauti- 
 ful ! I would not have missed it for anything. The 
 sinking sun is reflected in the water, and it is grand. 
 The boats plying upon the river, a large steamer in 
 the distance ploughing the waters, the trees overhang- 
 ing the banks, the fine country around, all make it a 
 scene which I have no words to describe. I feel as 
 if I could stay here a whole day and look the landscape 
 over. 1 1 
 
 Mrs. Stafford smiled at the girl's enthusiastic ad- 
 miration. She recalled her own delight when she first 
 
A VISIT TO RANDOLPH HALL 
 
 45 
 
 climbed to the turret, but her eyes had a saddened 
 expression as she remembered the pride with which 
 Elise pointed out the fair domain of Randolph Hall 
 and exulted in its great improvement. 
 
 "I love the Hall so much better now," she had 
 said. ''This turret was my own design. I shall de- 
 light to come here, and, with my glass, watch for Dr. 
 Nelson's coming. I always enjoyed fine scenery.' 9 
 
 The beautiful young mistress of the Hall was sleep- 
 ing now in the family burying ground by the side of 
 the husband who had loved her so fondly and gratified 
 her every wish. When they were going home Lillian 
 said, after a slight pause : 
 
 * 4 Aunt xYlice, the Hall is very grand and everything 
 very costly and elegant, but I love Moss Side best. 
 The very grandeur of the Hall oppresses me, chills 
 me, as it were, while Moss Side is the brightest, dear- 
 est, sweetest place in the world. ' ' Mrs. Stafford smiled 
 into the eloquent upturned face, and said: "1 am glad 
 you love Moss Side so well. I have been afraid you 
 would be lonely, as there is not much congenial society 
 around us now; but you would not feel that way 
 about the Hall if Robert and Helen were there. No 
 he use seems homelike all shut Up and uninhabited, as 
 that has been for so long a time. I have spent many 
 delightful hours at the Hall since I was a tiny girl. 
 There have been many sad changes, but I dearly love 
 the grand old place yet, and it grieves me to think it 
 is encumbered with debt and may pass from the fam- 
 ily who have so long owned it. The only hope I see 
 of its redemption is for Robert to marry a rich wife, 
 whose property would enable him to pay off the mort- 
 gage ; but he is so honorable, I think he would hesitate 
 to do that, unless he loved her as well as if there was 
 nc wealth to be considered. He certainly cannot af- 
 ford to marry a poor wife. I do not believe in marry- 
 
46 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 ing for money, but a man may love a wealthy girl as 
 sincerely as he could one without a fortune. Robert 
 will meet many wealthy girls in society, and he can 
 choose from among them one who would grace Ran- 
 dolph Hall as its mistress and redeem it by her for- 
 tune. I most heartily hope so. I should be very sorry 
 indeed if it should ever pass from the family. Such a 
 blow would doubtless snap the slender thread of 
 Helen's life. While Robert would feel the loss of his 
 ancestral home deeply, the world would never know 
 it. He has, I think, a strong nature, that would not 
 readily yield to misfortune. If he had only half a 
 chance he would redeem it by his own untiring efforts ; 
 but the odds are all against him." 
 
THE HAUNTED ROOM 47 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE HAUNTED ROOM. 
 
 It had been nearly three weeks since AValter Bru- 
 nette had been to Moss Side, a much longer time than 
 had ever elapsed between his visits. Lillian congratu- 
 lated herself that her coolness had at last had its ef- 
 fect. Rumors of his marriage with his cousin were 
 again afloat. Cuckoo's Nest had been enlarged, re- 
 modeled and beautified. The servants said this had 
 been done for the coming of the bride, and that the 
 master had gone to bring her home. Brunette would 
 not have felt very much complimented if he had 
 known what great pleasure these reports gave the fam- 
 ily at Moss Side. Even good Mrs. Burke, the house- 
 keeper, and the servants were glad to know there was 
 no danger of his carrying off Lillian. They were all 
 devoted to her, and all disliked Walter Brunette. It 
 was, indeed, a great relief to Lillian and Mrs. Staf- 
 ford. Lillian had always feared the man. Mrs. Staf- 
 ford's warning to her from the first of her acquaint- 
 ance had something to do with this feeling, but her 
 intercourse with him had greatly increased it. There 
 were times when the conviction grew upon her that he 
 loved her or was playing the role of lover successfully. 
 She caught sometimes a look in his eye, a look of such 
 intense repression as if he feared to lose control of 
 himself and the effort- was almost greater than he 
 could bear. Sometimes it was a look as if he would 
 use his eyes as diving bells to penetrate the very 
 secrets of her heart, and it made her tremble lest she 
 should discover to him this feeling of increased dislike 
 and distrust that had gradually grown upon her. She 
 
48 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 knew Aunt Alice shared this feeling with her-— dear, 
 sweet Aunt Alice, who was so kind to everybody. 
 Why did she dislike and fear this man of whom she 
 knew nothing disparaging? Was it not an intuition 
 that he was not a good man and was in some way 
 trying to harm her, the orphan girl, who had no other 
 protector? If she had had a brother or father, if 
 Uncle or Mr. Stafford had been living, she knew 
 neither she nor Aunt Alice would have felt thus ; but 
 they both feared danger in some way, and yet could 
 not even think in what direction it would come, and, 
 of course, could not find a way to avoid it. When 
 they felt assured of his marriage there came to Lillian 
 a buoyancy and natural lightness to which she had of 
 late been a stranger. The morning after her visit to 
 Randolph Hall a lady friend of Mrs. Stafford's had 
 called and spoken of the marriage as a certainty. On 
 her departure Lillian had said, with a merry laugh, 
 that was as music to Aunt Alice's ears: 
 
 " Auntie, just think how much trouble we have 
 given ourselves unnecessarily. You have been grieving 
 for fear the young man would fall in love with me 
 and make trouble by wanting to marry me instead of 
 his cousin, to whom he is engaged, and whom his 
 mother wishes him to marry, while I thought he was 
 trying to flirt with me for his own amusement. In- 
 stead he was only playing the part of a friendly ac- 
 quaintance, trying in the absence of his fiancee to en- 
 tertain me, a stranger. I really think, Aunt Alice, 
 we owe him an apology for having misjudged him. 
 Never mind, we will try to atone for it all by our kind- 
 ness to his wife when he brings her home. I hope his 
 mother will give a reception and invite us. I think 
 I should greatly enjoy it, now my heart is so gay and 
 happy." Her happiness was of short duration. The 
 very next evening Walter Brunette drove up to Moss 
 
THE HAUNTED ROOM 
 
 49 
 
 Side. It was with a lingering hope that the report of 
 his marriage might yet be true that she went in to 
 receive him. He was standing before her portrait, 
 gazing at it so intently he did not notice her entrance. 
 Two months before his death, her uncle had taken her 
 to New York to have this portrait painted by a cele- 
 brated Italian painter, who was on a visit there. A 
 more exquisite picture could scarcely be imagined. 
 The artist had skillfully caught the sweetness of ex- 
 pression that added such an irresistible charm to her 
 almost perfect features. The dark blue eyes, deeply 
 fringed with black lashes, looked at you with a smile 
 of happy content. The ruby lips, slightly parted, 
 seemed about to speak of a life full of joy and bright- 
 ness. The dark hair, in which the sunlight seemed to 
 nestle, was brushed back from the low, broad fore- 
 head ; but a few stray ringlets had escaped, as if loath 
 to leave the white, blue-veined forehead, over which 
 they were accustomed to linger with careless grace. 
 The portrait had been a birthday present to Aunt 
 Annie, who had it hung in her room, that she might 
 enjoy it at all times. The day before her death she 
 had in Lillian r s presence given it to Mrs. Stafford, say- 
 ing: "I bequeath the picture to you, dear Alice, as a 
 precious legacy. Some time one of nature ? s noblemen 
 worthy of even the love of our peerless Lillian will 
 steal her from you, and the portrait will then be a 
 comfort to you in your loneliness. At your death it 
 will, of course, revert to Lillian. ' 9 Mrs. Stafford and 
 Lillian had packed the pictures before they left the 
 home in the city, but there had been delay in their 
 transportation, and the portrait had been hung during 
 Brunette's absence. When Lillian made her presence 
 known he turned from the picture with a look that 
 disconcerted her ? so full of fond admiration was it; 
 
50 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 but he greeted her with that easy grace of which he 
 was master. 
 
 "Miss Lillian,'' he exclaimed, "that picture makes 
 me wish to be an artist. I would give half I possess 
 to be able to paint such a picture. 9 9 
 
 "You are fond of art?" Lillian asked. 
 
 "Yes, enthusiastically fond of it; but I have no 
 talent for it." Then he told her he had been called 
 off unexpectedly on business, and said, with a signifi- 
 cant look at Lillian : 
 
 "It seemed as if I had been gone a year. During 
 my enforced absence Moss Side has changed outwardly 
 under the touch of the frost-king, but it is the sweetest 
 place in the world at all seasons." 
 
 "I told Aunt Alice so a few days ago, after a visit 
 to Randolph Hall," Lillian said. 
 
 Then she spoke of how much she enjoyed her visit 
 to the Hall and the view from the turret. 
 
 ' 4 Did they initiate you into the delightful mysteries 
 of the haunted room, and did you feel the awe such 
 places always inspire?" Brunette asked. 
 
 "No," Lillian replied. "I have never heard there 
 was a haunted room at the Hall. If I had known 
 there was I would have asked to see it, as I have never 
 been in a place with such a reputation." 
 
 "Oh, yes," Brunette replied. "All old houses are 
 made more interesting to imaginative minds if they 
 have a ghost as a nocturnal visitor. Cuckoo Nest, my 
 home, is said to possess such a visitant. Tradition says 
 it is one of my aunts of many generations back, who 
 killed herself because she could not win the love of the 
 man to whom she had given her heart. Those who 
 have been fortunate enough to see her say she dresses 
 in long white trailing garments, with disheveled hair, 
 and haunts the upper hall, moaning and wringing her 
 ^vhite hands. I have tried in vain to catch a glimpse of 
 
THE HAUNTED ROOM 
 
 SI 
 
 her, but she has always evaded my most eager searek." 
 
 Lillian laughed merrily at the earnest manner im 
 which he talked of the apparition, as if he believed 
 fully in it 
 
 "What a pity she does not show herself to her 
 nephew, who is so anxious to make her acquaintance ! 
 But what is the story of the ghost at the Hall?" *k# 
 asked, her face lighted up with interest. "I used 
 love ghost stories dearly when I was a child, and I 
 find I have not yet become indifferent to them. " 
 
 * 'Well," Walter Brunette said, "the story goes that 
 the builder of the Hall, the grim old ancestor of th* 
 Nelsons, made a league with the Evil One Jhat he would 
 give him his soul at death if his Satanic Majesty- 
 would permit him, after his demise, to pay occasional 
 visits to the Hall so long as one of his lineal descend- 
 ants owned the estate. It is said he makes his visit* 
 whenever there are more than one heir to the property 
 and blights the young lives lest if there should be mort 
 than one heir left there might arise complication by 
 means of which the Hall might go from one of hi* 
 name and thus his temporary erscape from torture, 
 which must be some alleviation to his sufferings, would 
 be cut off. Tradition says he was a very strange old 
 man, who in life had a room on the second floor, over- 
 looking the flower garden. In this room he kept hi* 
 choicest books and his violin, which he was very fond 
 of playing, and here he smoked and entertained hi* 
 boon companions. This room has been kept untouched 
 during all these years, and people say when the wind 
 is boisterous and howls around the house the sound of 
 a violin may be heard mingling with the fury of th« 
 .1 elements. Some who sat up with fair Margie Nelson 
 the night she died say they saw a shadow pass over 
 her face just before her death, and it looked like the 
 pi'ofile of the squire, whose picture has always hung; 
 
52 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEEE 
 
 on the walls of his room. The doctors had just left 
 Margie's room and pronounced her better. It is a 
 consolation to feel that with this generation this power 
 the old spirit possesses will pass away. The Hall is 
 heavily mortgaged, and Robert Nelson will never be 
 able to pay it off. Mr. Packard, the millionaire, was 
 not the friend he seemed when he lent Dr. Nelson 
 money on such easy terms, promising never to trouble 
 him for it. Mr. Packard has always desired to own 
 the Hall, and saw a way to obtain his object by lend- 
 ing the money, knowing the promise did not extend to 
 the son, and I hear he will after a few years foreclose 
 the mortgage. Rather a gruesome story,' ' he asked, 
 smilingly, as he noted Lillian's absorbing interest in 
 his recital. 
 
 "Yes," Lillian replied thoughtfully, "and just as 
 ridiculous and nonsensical as all ghost stories are. It 
 is strange we should love to hear anything that is so 
 unreasonable and unnatural as a ghost story. Of 
 course, all the story is the outcome of an imaginative 
 person who loves to tax the credulity of others. 
 Everything connected with the mysteries of the Hall 
 can be explained on natural grounds. It does seem 
 strange at first sight that all the young members of 
 the family should die at an early age, but it is only the 
 sequence of natural laws. Dr. Nelson, his wife and 
 daughter died with a fever very prevalent, just as 
 Aunt Alice's husband and three children. There is 
 surely no ghost chamber here, and there is no skeleton 
 in the family to rob us of the happiness dear Auntie 
 and I feel in each other's society. Moss Side is one 
 home in which, it appears to me, the trail of the, ser- 
 pent is not seen, except in our hearts, which are too 
 ready to receive into them the thoughts that mar our 
 peace. ' ' 
 
 "You are not superstitious, then, Miss Lillian? You 
 
THE HAUNTED ROOM 53 
 
 do not believe in the old squire's satanic influence?" 
 
 "Oh, no. I would not believe in anything so un- 
 reasonable. Auntie and I have decided on a way for 
 Mr. Nelson to retain the Hall." 
 
 6 ' In what way ? ' 7 asked Brunetle. 
 
 "By his marrying a rich wife," was the reply. 
 
 Walter Brunette looked straight at Lillian and 
 asked in slow, measured tones : 
 
 "Do I understand you to say that you w r ould have 
 Robert Nelson marry a lady of wealth and entail upon 
 her the curse of his family for the sake of retaining 
 his home ? ' ' Then, with a mocking smile, he added : 
 
 * ' Who would have dreanjed the high-toned Miss De 
 Vere and the honorable Mrs. Stafford were mer- 
 cenary. ' ' Then, with a look of determination, he said : 
 
 "I would marry the girl I love if she were penni- 
 less, and if by marrying her I lost every dollar I pos- 
 sess I would still marry her. ' ' 
 
 "So, I doubt not, will Mr. Nelson," Lillian said; 
 "but I do hope the girl he loves shall be one who 
 has wealth, and who for love of him will willingly— 
 yea, gladly— give that wealth to enable him to foil the 
 plot of a man who under the guise of friendship is 
 trying to get his ancestral home. There are many 
 charming girls who have wealth and beauty. I can- 
 not see why it is mercenary to marry the one he loves, 
 whether she possesses wealth or not. ? ' 
 
 Then, with an ill-disguised sneer, Brunette said : 
 
 "Well, when Mr. Nelson comes, Mrs. Stafford will 
 have a fine opportunity to try her match-making 
 schemes upon him, as I hear he is an especial favorite 
 of hers. I do not know the man, though we were born 
 in the same neighborhood, but a few miles apart. I 
 went to school with him one day. I remember we had 
 a quarrel at recess, which resulted in a fight, in which 
 I was the victor. We were about ten years old then, 
 
LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 and about the same size and strength. x In after years 
 I outgrew him. I did not like the restraints of school, 
 and did not go any more. Then we moved away and 
 did not return until recently. I have not seen him 
 during his short visits to his home for the three years 
 we have been back. I do not know that I care to 
 renew the slight acquaintance I have with him, lest 
 we again come to arms, as in the day of yore V 7 
 
 When Lillian told Mrs. Stafford of Walter Bru- 
 mette's story of the haunted room at the Hall, Aunt 
 Alice said: 
 
 6 'That ridiculous story has been circulated among 
 ignorant people, who are usually superstitious. The 
 •Id squire's room has been kept as it was because in 
 hit life he was so fond of it, and because there are 
 enough rooms without it, and all the male members of 
 the family have used it as a smoking room. I have 
 teen in it, and it is one of the brightest, most pleas- 
 Ant rooms on the second floor. There is nothing 
 ghostly or uncanny about it. The old squire's por- 
 trait, with the clear-cut features in profile, hangs upon 
 the wall as it has done for a century, and time has 
 been wonderfully kind to it. I was in her room when 
 Margie died and saw no shadow save that which 
 death usually throws over the face before the exit of 
 the soul to the valley of the shadow of death of which 
 the Psalmist speaks. She was thought to be better 
 the day before she died at night, but the forces often 
 •eem to rally just before death, as if for a final strug- 
 gle, and deceive the loved ones, who seize upon every 
 straw of hope. Some time when we go to the Hall I 
 wili take you to the haunted room. 
 
ROBERT AND HELEN 
 
 55 
 
 CHAPTER IX. ; 
 
 ROBERT AND HELEN. 
 
 One morning a few days later Mrs. Stafford received 
 a letter from Helen asking her to go over to the Hall 
 and see if everything was in readiness, as they would 
 bring a number of guests with them to spend the ap- 
 proaching holidays. Then she pleaded: "Dear 
 Auntie, Buddie unites with me in wishing you and 
 Miss Lillian to spend the holidays with us at the 
 Hall. Apart from the great pleasure your society 
 would give us, you know how to entertain so beauti- 
 fully that with you as our chaperon I could promise 
 our guests a most delightful time, and I think Lillian 
 would enjoy it, too, as our friends are all so nice and 
 pleasant. I am not even as strong as usual this winter, 
 and your coming to us in our need would relieve me of 
 so much responsibility. Now, dearest, please say yes, 
 and make us so happy. Anxiously awaiting your re- 
 ply, I am most affectionately your devoted niece, 
 
 "Helen. 
 
 "Much love to Lillian. I know I shall dearly love 
 her, because you love her so much. 99 
 
 After reading the letter aloud Mrs. Stafford said, 
 thoughtfully : 
 
 "Dr. Graham's daughters have promised to spend 
 several days with us next week, and will be here at 
 the time they wish me to be at the Hall to receive the 
 guests. ' ' 
 
 ' ' That doesn 't matter, ' ' Lillian said. 6 ' Aunt Alice, 
 Maude and Vivian will not mind one bit staying with 
 Mrs. Burke and me. While we will miss you, for you 
 always contribute so much to our enjoyment, still, for 
 
56 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 Helen's sake, we will be willing to give you up for a 
 few days." 
 
 So it was decided, and when, the next Thursday, 
 Robert and Helen came, with their company, Auntie 
 was there to welcome them back to their home and 
 to give their friends a cordial greeting, which at once 
 won their hearts. Lillian came a few days after, 
 and at once became a favorite with the visitors, who 
 vied with each other in showing their admiration for 
 the lovely girl with such charming manners. Lillian 
 and Helen fell in love with each other at first sight, 
 as they had anticipated, and were ever after the warm- 
 est, dearest friends. For three weeks the Hall was 
 the scene of gayety and pleasure. With Mrs. Staf- 
 ford, Robert, Lillian and Helen to plan amusements, 
 there was no danger of dull days at the Hall, how- 
 ever roughly the storm-king reigned out doors. Plays, 
 charades, games, music and dancing followed each 
 other in rapid succession, so there should be no 
 monotony to tire the most exacting. To add to the 
 enjoyment a snow fell during the Christmas, and there 
 were merry sleigh rides, with jingling bells keeping 
 time to the sound of youthful voices and gay laughter. 
 In all these pleasures Lillian was the center of at- 
 traction. The adulation she received would have 
 spoiled most girls, but she had from childhood been 
 so used to it, it did not impress her as it would have 
 done others less accustomed to it. Indeed, she was 
 surprised when admiration was not bestowed upon 
 her. Robert Nelson was the only gentleman she had 
 ever met who did not at once yield to and acknowledge 
 her charms by word or look. While perfectly cour- 
 teous, showing in no marked way his dislike or indif- 
 ference to her society, yet she felt the restraint in- 
 stinctively—knew that he strove to avoid her without 
 appearing to do so— and it made her very uncom- 
 
ROBERT AND HELEN 57 
 
 fortable in his society. She tried in vain to account 
 for this conduct on his part, but was at a loss, and 
 determined to give it up as an enigma too difficult for 
 her to solve, and yet often found herself striving for 
 a solution. Aunt Alice thought him so noble and 
 good. Why should she fall into his disfavor when 
 she had done nothing to deserve it ? Helen had loved 
 her at once as a friend. Why should not' her brother 
 be equally kind and appreciative of her friendship? 
 She had felt this coldness at the Hall, but would not 
 admit it to herself. He was host, and as such his 
 duty to his many guests was imperative. Why should 
 she be so exacting as to wish for even as much of his 
 attention as the other young ladies, whose visit to his 
 home was limited ? But when the guests had all de- 
 parted from the Hall, when the terrible weather that 
 succeeded the holidays had broken up, when the spring 
 opened and the weather was so mild and genial Helen 
 could come to Moss Side and spend several days at a 
 time, enjoying nothing better than this sojourn at 
 dear old Moss Side, why should Robert Nelson seldom 
 come, and appear so ill at ease when he came— so 
 anxious to leave that at last Aunt Alice noticed it and 
 asked Helen about it. 
 
 "Oh, Auntie, Buddie is so busy getting everything 
 straight that has gone wrong in his absence. He has 
 had to dismiss some of the tenants and fill their places 
 with others more industrious or trustworthy. Some 
 of the land that has been neglected must be reclaimed 
 and some of the houses must be repaired. He is so 
 busy, I see very little of him at home; so don't be 
 jealous if he doesn't come often. It is only because 
 stern duty calls him elsewhere." 
 
 Mrs. Stafford seemed satisfied, and Lillian felt she 
 had no right to complain. As the spring advanced 
 and the warm weather came Helen and Lillian were 
 
58 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 almost inseparable companions. They would set out 
 in the pony phaeton, tie the gentle animal to some 
 tree and scour the country for wild flowers. Some- 
 times Aunt Alice would give, them a row on the river, 
 which Helen greatly enjoyed; sometimes they would 
 repair to the boathouse and fish. Helen's delight was 
 unbounded when she drew a fine fish from the water. 
 
 4 * Oh, Auntie ! ' ' she said, ^ne morning, as she ex- 
 hibited a prize larger than usual. ' * It seems a cruel 
 sport to fish, but I do enjoy it so much. It comforts 
 me to think our Saviour allowed it. You remember he 
 told his disciples where to catch the most." 
 
 This being so much in the open air with congenial 
 society was very beneficial to Helen, who became 
 stronger than she had ever been, and was proud and 
 thankful of her new strength. 
 
 Walter Brunette still came frequently to Moss Side, 
 but he very seldom saw Lillian, for she and Helen 
 were often absent when he came, much to her satis- 
 faction and equally as much to his dissatisfaction. One 
 evening in the early summer he drove up and asked 
 Jim, the hostler, who was near, if Lillian was at home. 
 
 4 4 No, sar," was the answer, given with a provoking 
 grin, as if he enjoyed it. * ' Miss Helen been and sent 
 for her this morning, and she is at the Hall." 
 
 4 * Does she live at the Hall? She is always there 
 when I come here," Brunette said. 
 
 ' 4 No, sar, sne don't live thar now, but we ail hopes 
 she will some time. Marse Robert is such a nice, gen- 
 teel gemman, we all hopes Miss Lillian and him will 
 make a match." With something that sounded very 
 much like an oath Walter Brunette turned his horse 
 and drove rapidly away, while Jim, looking after him, 
 muttered to himself : 
 
 "I do b'lieve that man spects to git Miss Lillian. 
 He comes here oftener than Mr. Nelson, but 'tain't al- 
 
ROBEKT AND HELEN 59 
 
 ways the man that hunts the most that ketches the 
 'possum. He! hef he! He jist set them fine white 
 teeth of his'n close together and parted them lips to 
 say a bad word, but he managed some way to keep 
 part of it back. He! he! he! Hell never git Miss 
 Lillian while my name's Jim. No; dat he won't/' 
 and with another chuckle Jim went to his work. 
 
 One morning Helen stood at an open window of 
 Moss Side, enjoying with keen delight the fair scene 
 spread out before her. The summer sunlight flooded 
 everything with its golden glow. The flowers were in 
 the height of their beauty and bloom. The grass of 
 the lawn was of its greenest hue and the river in the 
 distance made a fine background for the lovely picture. 
 
 4 4 Oh, perfect June day!" she said. 4 'Surely the 
 poet must have gazed upon a scene like this when 
 the exclamation burst from his lips. ' ' At that moment 
 Lillian appeared and added a still greater charm to 
 the scene as she flitted from flower to flower, gather- 
 ing blossoms to make a bouquet for a poor sick woman 
 to whom Aunt Alice was going to send some delicacies. 
 
 Helen's sweet face was lighted up with warmest ad- 
 miration when Mrs. Stafford entered the room, and, 
 turning to her Auntie- with a loving smile upon her 
 features, she exclaimed : 
 
 4 'Auntie, Lillian is, without any exception, the most 
 beautiful person I have ever seen. Indeed, I never 
 thought I would ever see one of such wondrous beauty, 
 and grace, and withal so sweet and womanly. She 
 bears a most striking resemblance to a picture I saw 
 in New York last winter. Uncle Henri took me to 
 that city, and while there we visited the studio of a 
 noted Italian painter, and the picture that claimed 
 our greatest admiration was one entitled the 6 Artist's 
 Dream. 7 I asked Uncle if he had ever seen a face so 
 perfectly lovely, and he said 'No'— that the picture 
 
W) 
 
 LILLIAN DbVERE 
 
 was what its name signified, only a happy conception 
 of the painter. I thought so, too, then, but when I 
 saw Lillian dressed in fanciful costume like that of 
 the picture one night during a play at the Hall, the 
 picture came at once in my mind, and ever since the 
 conviction has grown upon me that Lillian is the 
 original of the famous picture, which created such a 
 sensation and won for the artist such a reputation. Is 
 it not so, Auntie ? M 
 
 "You are right,'' Mrs. Stafford replied, smiling at 
 her enthusiasm. When Colonel De Vere took Lillian 
 to New York to have her portrait painted— the one that 
 hangs in the sitting room— -the artist begged so hard 
 for a sitting in fanciful costume for his studio, Lillian, 
 to please her uncle, who was so proud of her extraor- 
 dinary beauty, consented, on condition that her name 
 should be withheld from the public. Hence the artist's 
 fancy name. ' ' 
 
WALTEK BRUNETTE'S SUIT 61 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WALTER BRUNETTE'S SUIT. 
 
 While Walter Brunette's viaits became more and 
 more frequent, Robert Nelson rarely came to Moss 
 Side. Sometimes when Lillian returned from a ride 
 on "Cloud" or a drive with Helen Mrs. Stafford would 
 speak with much pleasure of a visit from Robert. 
 
 "Poor boy/ 7 she said once; "he is working himself 
 almost to death to try to keep his home, and it sad- 
 dens me to think it is such a hopeless task. He said 
 to-day, while a look of determination flashed from his 
 eyes : 1 Auntie, I must keep it while Helen lives. She 
 could never bear the loss of our home. For her dear 
 sake I am willing to work, and trust.' That is why 
 he seems so little like himself, so different from the 
 young man who before the burden of responsibility 
 fell so heavily upon his young shoulders was so light- 
 hearted and hopeful, whose merry laugh rang out as 
 gayly as any schoolboy 's. ' ' 
 
 That night Lillian took herself severely to task for 
 what she termed her injustice. 
 
 "Here I have been feeling myself aggrieved be- 
 cause he denied me his friendship, while with a noble 
 purpose, with a fortitude that commands our warm- 
 est admiration, he is devoting himself to the discharge 
 of a duty which involves the happiness, perhaps the 
 life, of one who is dearer than anyone on earth. How 
 selfish I feel myself to be in comparison with his 
 heroic battle aigainst adversity. • ■ Could she have seen 
 into Robert Nelson's heart she would not, perhaps, 
 have been so harsh in her judgment to herself. The 
 truth was, Robert Nelson had seen Paul Graham in 
 
62 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 Philadelphia a few days before his return to the 
 Hall. This young man, the son of Dr. Graham, the 
 family physician of both Moss Side and the Hall, was 
 in Philadelphia studying medicine. His sisters Maude 
 and Vivian were often at Moss Side, and had writ- 
 ten enthusiastic letters of Lillian's loveliness, and also 
 the report that Walter Brunette had jilted his cousin 
 and would marry Lillian. Paul told Robert of this 
 report, which had been confirmed by Walter Brunette 
 himself, whom Paul had recently seen in Washington. 
 He had given Robert Brunette's own words: "Yes, I 
 will marry Lillian De Vere unless she is a most heart- 
 less coquette. It is dangerous to trust a girl as beauti* 
 ful as she, however true and loving she may appear. 
 To my knowledge she has carried one man to the 
 height of bliss and then by a few words hurled him to 
 the depths of despair. By that same love of admira- 
 tion she may encourage my attentions that she may 
 play the same game on me." These words had made 
 Robert Nelson afraid of Lillian. He was afraid to 
 trust himself in her power. 
 
 M Besides/ ' he said to himself, "I do not wish to 
 have Walter Brunette for a rival. If she is engaged 
 to him I will not stand in the way of her marrying 
 him. I do not think he is a good man, and while it 
 seems a pity that one so beautiful and whom Auntie 
 loves so much should marry such a man, still if she is 
 a heartless flirt she deserves no better fate. " 
 
 So he stood aloof, watching the game, however, with 
 great interest, the nature of which he did not once 
 suspect. He found out by some means every time 
 Brunette went to Moss Side, and after awhile learned 
 that Auntie did not approve the match ; but failed to 
 find out that Lillian did not approve it herself, and 
 was only awaiting an opportunity to assure Brunette 
 of the fact It came at last. One day when Lillian, 
 
WALTER BRUNETTE'S SUIT 63 
 
 in all the brightness of her youth and beauty, stood 
 by him among the flowers, the question which meant 
 so much for her was asked, and he was given a gentle 
 but firm refusal. After his impassioned avowal of 
 love she had said : 1 ' I cannot marry you, Mr. Brunette, 
 because I do not love you. I have tried in every way 
 to save you and myself the pain of this moment by 
 showing you I did not care for you in the way you 
 desired. I wish you could have seen it ere this." 
 Then came a look into his eyes that frightened her, 
 so wild, so f ull of love and of despair. 
 
 "Is your decision irrevocable? Do you mean what 
 you say— that you can never love me, can never marry 
 me?" came in tones of bitterness between his set teeth. 
 
 "I do," was Lillian's answer. 
 
 "Then beware of the consequences. You by your 
 fatal beauty have lured me on to madness. It is a 
 fearful thing to arouse the passion of a man who has 
 never in his life known the word fail. Again I say, 
 beware/ 9 and without another word he was gone. A 
 great tremor seized Lillian, and a sudden fear curdled 
 around her heart at his words and looks. It was as 
 if the future, with all its sorrows, opened for a moment 
 before her and threw its clouds over her bright young 
 life. With an effort she tried to throw off this pre- 
 sentiment of evil, and partially succeeded under Aunt 
 Alice's genial influence. She would not tell Aunt 
 Alice of Walter Brunette's threatening words. He 
 was only angry at his rejection and could surely mean 
 nothing by them. When a few days later she heard 
 Mr. Brunette was ill with fever she told herself it was 
 the fever in his veins that had made him talk so de- 
 fiantly. For weeks he was exceedingly low ; the physi- 
 cians despaired of his life, but he had youth and 
 strength on his side, supplemented by good nursing, 
 and they turned the scales in his favor. One morning 
 
64 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 when he became better he asked Dr. Graham: "Why 
 didn't you let me die?" 
 
 "Because I didn't think you were prepared to go, 
 and Ave want to give you another chance. It would 
 have grieved your mother, too. " 
 
 * * It would have been a mercy to both of us, I think. 
 I don't care to live." 
 
 Dr. Graham thought of these words often in after 
 life and felt how true they were. With a kind look 
 in his eye Dr. Graham said: "Walter, don't talk that 
 way. You revealed to your mother and me in your 
 words of unconsciousness the secret of your love for 
 Lillian De Vere and of the failure in your suit. In 
 your delirium you said some very wild words, which 
 I am sure were only the creation of a. feverish brain. 
 Bear up bravely, my boy. Many a man has had the 
 same trial to bear and lived under it." Walter Bru- 
 nette spoke no word, but turned his face to the wall. 
 Lillian felt greatly relieved when it was told her Mr. 
 Brunette and his mother had gone away to the Springs 
 and w T ould not be back probably for a year. 
 
 "By that time he will have forgotten the infatuation 
 he had for me, and, I hope, will return a sensible man, 
 married to his cousin, who, it is said, loves him so 
 fondly." This thought lightened the heavy feeling 
 that had rested over her naturally buoyant spirits like 
 an incubus since Walter Brunette's last visit, but his 
 words and looks made her shudder whenever she re- 
 called them. 
 
LILLIAN IN DANGER 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LILLIAN IN DANGER. 
 
 One evening Mrs. Stafford came in the room where 
 Lillian was reading, holding a letter in her hand, and 
 w ith a perplexed expression said : 
 
 ' ' This is a letter which ought, by all means, to go 
 off on the morning mail. It is to my lawyer, Mr. Low- 
 ther, on business of importance, which requires im- 
 mediate attention. I sent Jim off and John is sick, so 
 I don't know what to do." 
 
 Lillian arose quickly and said : 
 
 "Why, Aunt Alice, that needn't perplex you a 
 moment longer. Cloud and I will soon get it there. ' ' 
 
 Mrs Stafford hesitated a minute and then said 
 slowly: 
 
 "It is so warm, Lillian. I don't like you to go out 
 in the heat." 
 
 "That doesn't matter at all, Auntie, dear. It will 
 be pleasant coming back. ' ' 
 
 In a few minutes she was ready and Cloud was 
 saddled. Mrs. Stafford accompanied her to the gate, 
 and as Lillian mounted and prepared to start she 
 asked suddenly : 
 
 * ' Lillian, isn 't that thunder ? 9 9 
 
 "Why, no, Auntie. I heard nothing like thunder, 
 and the sun is shining as brightly as I ever saw it." 
 
 "It sounded like distant thunder, and a storm can 
 come up so quickly when the weather is as warm as 
 it has been for several days." 
 
 "Now, Aunt Alice, isn't that rather unfair to try 
 to spoil my anticipation of a nice ride by the only bug- 
 bear of which you, know Cloud and I are afraid? Now, 
 
66 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 don't make yourself miserable, Auntie. I will be 
 back presently/' she called back as she galloped off. 
 She had nearly reached Anston, the little village, 
 about a mile distant, from which the mail was carried 
 daily to Melton, when she felt her saddle loosen. She 
 stopped her horse and slid from the saddle just in 
 time to escape a severe fall. She found, to her dismay, 
 that the girth had broken in an imperfect place, and 
 she was not near enough to a house to ask assistance. 
 By means of a small knife she had in her purse and 
 the string of her slipper she managed to secure it so 
 that, by riding very slowly, she was enabled to reach 
 the village. She attended to posting the letter, pro- 
 cured the mail, had her girth mended and set out to 
 return. In the meantime the clouds had begun to 
 gather, and an occasional peal of thunder warned her 
 that Aunt Alice's surmise about the thunder was cor- 
 rect. Cloud was easily frightened by a thunder- 
 storm, and she somewhat shared his feelings on the 
 subject; so she set out to return with some appre- 
 hension. She rode rapidly, for Cloud, as if scenting 
 the coming storm, was as anxious to get home as she 
 was. The storm came up quickly. Dark clouds over- 
 cast the sky, the lurid lightning flashed and peal after 
 peal of deafening thunder came in rapid succession. 
 The horse, almost frantic with fear, dashed on so 
 swiftly she could scarcely keep her seat. It was 
 growing very dark, and she was nearing "Lover's 
 Leap," a high bluff overlooking the river. There 
 were thick woods on one side of the road opposite the 
 bluff, which made it dark even at midday. That safely 
 passed, she would soon be at home. But alas for her 
 hopes! As they approached the bluff a large white 
 object in the road attracted her attention. With one 
 bound Cloud dashed into the woods. Lillian came 
 near losing her seat in the saddle, but for a while she 
 
LILLIAN IN DANGER 
 
 67 
 
 kept on: then as the frightened animal began to 
 plunge and rear she with all the strength she possessed 
 checked his speed for a moment and sprang from the 
 saddle. The rain which had begun to fall increased 
 every minute, until it came in torrents, and the wind 
 began to blow furiously. She crept to the foot of a 
 tree and clung to it for protection; then as large 
 branches of trees crashed in their fall around her she 
 began to think of some place of greater safety. She 
 remembered there was a dilapidated hut in the woods, 
 not very far from where she was. She and Helen had 
 discovered it once while searching for flowers, and they 
 had sat on the doorsteps while Helen told her of a 
 lonely old man who had made his home there, and 
 when he died had been buried near. This would be 
 better shelter than the tree afforded, so by means of 
 the flashes of lightning she made her way to the hut. 
 The heavy door had partially fallen from its hinges. 
 She crept through the open space and stood still until 
 a vivid flash of lightning showed her the hut was un- 
 occupied. Crouching in one corner, she put her 
 hands over her eyes and her fingers in her ears to 
 shut out the terrible battle of the elements. She tried 
 not to think, to be quiet and patient, until the storm 
 ceased; but, try as hard as ever she could, her mind 
 would be active. After picturing Aunt Alice's dis- 
 tress, she began to wonder what the object was that 
 had stood in the road and frightened Cloud so. Could 
 it have been the ghost of the unhappy young man who, 
 it was said, had thrown himself headlong from the 
 bluff and drowned himself for love of one who loved 
 him not? It had looked just like a man in clothes of 
 supernatural whiteness. She shuddered at the 
 thought, for while we may under favorable circum- 
 stances, in the sunlight, in shelter of home and in the 
 society of friends^ scout the idea of ghosts and call 
 
68 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 them the creation of imaginative people, yet in Lil- 
 lian's circumstances the bravest would probably 
 have felt and reasoned as she did in regard to 
 the apparition that had so suddenly appeared in her 
 path. She was so busy with her own troublous 
 thoughts she did not hear approaching footsteps, and 
 was not aware of a human presence until a noise at 
 the door caused her to look up suddenly. A man all 
 in white, with his hat drawn closely over his face, stood 
 in the door holding a lantern, the light of which daz- 
 zled her after the intense darkness. She caught her 
 breath quickly and a great fear seized her ; but as her 
 eyes became accustomed to the light she saw it was 
 Walter Brunette gazing at her with a look of pas- 
 sionate delight and exultation. With a cry of joy she 
 sprang forward. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Brunette, it was you who frightened 
 Cloud. You, too, have sought shelter from the storm. 
 I am glad you came. Misery loves company, you 
 know," she said, with a sort of hysterical laugh. Bru- 
 nette advanced into the room and a smile lighted up 
 his handsome blond face at her words. 
 
 "Yes, my peerless darling. I have been very mis- 
 erable since your cruel words sent me to despair. But 
 you did not mean them; you only said them to test 
 my love, did you not, my beauteous one ? Ah ! there 
 was no need of that! I love you with the maddest 
 passion that ever swayed a human heart. Say you love 
 me in return. Only one word, dearest, and the devo- 
 tion of a lifetime shall be yours. In one hour you will 
 be my wife, whom no power shall take from me. I 
 have a horse near by. I can take you in the saddle 
 before me. I have friends in Anston who will gladly 
 lend me their aid. We can hire a carriage after the 
 ceremony to take us to Melton in time for the morning 
 train. It will be an elopement— romantic in the high- 
 
LILLIAN IN DANGER 
 
 69 
 
 est degree. I will take you to the large cities of our 
 country and of the old world, and men shall gaze at 
 your regal beauty and worship at your feet as the 
 queen of love and beauty; but I will alone possess 
 the jewel of your truest love, in its setting of entranc- 
 ing loveliness. Come," he pleaded, passionately. As 
 he spoke rapidly, with his eyes looking into her own, 
 she had gazed into his face with a fascination very 
 like that with which a bird gazes at the snake that 
 charms it ; but as he advanced a step nearer and held 
 out his arms she sprang back into the corner with a 
 look of wildest fear and unconscious repulsion in her 
 eloquent eyes. He was quick to note the movement 
 and the look, and a bitter smile played over his counte- 
 nance. 
 
 " You do not seem to like the arrangements, the bril- 
 liant future I have spread before you as my wife. 
 You are not willing to live with me and I cannot live 
 without you. Then you must know the alternative. 
 You must flee with me to-night or I will shoot you 
 and then kill myself. That, too, will create a sensa- 
 tion—a fine item for the press and a delicious morsel 
 for the taste of a romance-loving public !" A mocking 
 laugh followed the words. As she crouched still closer 
 to the corner he came nearer and, looking down upon 
 her with a look of desperate determination in his eye, 
 he said in a tone which he strove to render calm : 
 
 "You love the pale-faced owner of the Hall and he 
 loves you, though he believes you a heartless coquette 
 and is afraid to trust his fate to your tender mercy. 
 If he should deem you worthy he would make you 
 mistress of the Hall, and with the fortune your aunt 
 will leave you would try to retain his home. But I 
 will thwart his little game. Never shall you grace his 
 home by your bewitching beauty, which from the first 
 moment I saw you has made me swear to win you or 
 
70 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 die. The time has come for you to decide the question 
 of life or death for us both. I will give you fifteen 
 minutes by the watch for the decision. ' ' He took out 
 a pistol, which gleamed brightly before her eyes, and 
 pointed it at her. Then placing his open watch in the 
 palm of the other hand, said : 
 
 4 'You have but to utter one word, 'Yes,' if you 
 consent to marry me; 'No,' if you prefer death. Think 
 fast, for the minutes are flying." She gave a look 
 of mute appeal into the stern face and blazing eyes, 
 and knew at once there was no mercy to be expected 
 from him. With a deep-drawn sigh she put her hands 
 to her face and tried to think, to decide this question 
 of life and death. She could not at first realize it in 
 all its terrible import. It seemed like some awful 
 dream, some nightmare, from which she would awaken 
 with thankfulness. But when at last she felt assured 
 of her desperate situation she sank down in agony; 
 soon the calmness of despair seized her. She was 
 young, and death — such a death — seemed awful to 
 her ; but the thought of Aunt Alice, who would grieve 
 so over her untimely fate, brought up the alternative. 
 Would Aunt Alice wish her to throw away her life? 
 If she were near, would she not counsel her to save 
 her life, even if it should be one of misery? Such 
 she felt it must be to become the wife of a man who 
 would win her under such circumstances, and from 
 whom she shrank with such great repulsion. The very 
 thought made her shiver from head to foot. 
 
 "Two minutes more!" came from his lips. As 
 Walter Brunette uttered the words she looked up, for 
 she seemed to hear a footstep, and a look of unutter- 
 able relief came into her lovely eyes as she saw a 
 manly form in the doorway. Brunette, absorbed in 
 watching her, had heard no sound ; but when he saw 
 
LILLIAN IN DANGER 71 
 
 her look he turned, and, without a moment's hesita- 
 tion fired, stepped quickly over the prostrate form of 
 the man, who had fallen at his fire, and fled in the 
 darkness, almost overturning two men who with lan- 
 terns were hastening to the scene, attracted by the 
 pistol shot 
 
72 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Lillian's secret. 
 
 A few minutes after Lillian had left home to post 
 Mrs. Stafford's letter Robert Nelson appeared at Mosk 
 Side, the bearer of a note from Helen to Lillian beg- 
 ging her to come to the Hall for a few days, as Maude 
 and Vivian Graham were staying with her, aduing: 
 4 4 And we all want you so much, dear Lillian. We 
 never feel our circle complete without your presence 
 to grace it. Now, get ready and come right back with 
 Buddie." 
 
 Mrs. Stafford said Lillian would soon be back, as 
 she knew she w r ould hurry on account of the storm 
 which was approaching. It was with much alarm 
 Mrs. Stafford saw the storm increase in intensity, and 
 Lillian did not return. Robert finally succeeded in 
 quieting her for a time by saying he was quite sure 
 Lillian had foreseen the storm and remained in 
 Anston. 
 
 "I think that must be so," Aunt Alice finally ad- 
 mitted. "She knows how very much afraid of thun- 
 der and lightning Cloud is. My dear boy, I am so 
 glad you are here to comfort me. Mrs. Burke is one 
 of Job's proverbial comforters. But how about Helen! 
 Is she frightened by a storm?" she asked, anxiously. 
 
 "Not at all," Robert replied. "She seems to enjoy 
 the grandeur of a storm like this. I have seen her 
 stand for hours at the window watching the fury of 
 the elements with intense interest." 
 
 "I am glad she is so constituted. I am rather 
 nervous during such an exhibition of God's power as 
 we have now. Just see the rapid, vivid flashes of 
 
LILLIANS SECRET 78 
 
 lightning and hear the almost deafening peals of 
 thunder! How much relieved I would be if I were 
 assured of Lillian's safety !" Aunt Alice remarked. 
 
 When Jim, who had been caught in the storm, re- 
 turned and went to the stables to put away the horse 
 he rode, he was surprised to find Cloud in his own 
 stable, saddled, reeking with foam and almost rigid 
 with fear. Mrs. Stafford's excitement when Jim came 
 to inquire about this can better be imagined than de- 
 scribed. She was almost wild with apprehension. 
 Robert Nelson, John Marsh, the manager of Moss 
 Side, and Jake Booth, John's brother-in-law, who 
 lived with him, at once offered to go in search of 
 Lillian. The storm had somewhat abated, and Mrs. 
 Stafford could scarcely be constrained from accom- 
 panying them, until Robert, laying his hand gently 
 on her arm, whispered : 
 
 i 1 Dear Auntie, you can do much more good by stay- 
 ing at home and praying for Miss Lillian than by 
 going with us." 
 
 She did pray most earnestly, and who would dare 
 say that fervent petition did not wing its way to the 
 ear of the compassionate Father and find its answer 
 in the safety of the loved one who was in such ex- 
 treme peril ? The men with the lanterns could scarcely 
 keep pace with Robert Nelson's hasty steps. They 
 took the road to Anston, and every dark object was 
 examined. Several times they thought they had 
 found the object of their search, but it proved to be 
 some bush or stump. Just beyond Lover's Leap they 
 found a slipper, which they were sure was Lillian's. 
 It had fallen off when Cloud gave the sudden bound 
 at the white object in the road. This gave them the 
 clue to her being in the woods, and as Robert Nelson 
 remembered the hut he had seen when hunting, he 
 
74 
 
 LILLIAN DeVBBE 
 
 hastened to it, and was surprised as he approached 
 to see a faint light glimmering through the ereviees 
 of the old building. He arrived, as we have seen, just 
 in time to rescue Lillian and to receive Walter Bru- 
 nette's shot. When John Marsh reached the door of 
 the hut and flashed the light of his lantern into it he 
 exclaimed in surprise and horror : 
 
 44 By heavens! Jake, that man in white has shot 
 and killed the young squire." At the w r ords Lillian, 
 whom they had not observed, came rushing forward, 
 and with the words, 4 4 Oh, Robert! Robert! Would 
 that I had died for thee ! ' ' fell fainting by his side. 
 
 While Jake Booth ran out to get some water in his 
 hat to revive Lillian, John Marsh proceeded to ex- 
 amine Robert's wound, and said as Jake reappeared: 
 
 4 4 It is not so bad as I thought. He is shot badly in 
 the shoulder, but not dangerously, I think, and is 
 stunned by hitting his head against a hinge of the 
 door when he fell. ' ' 
 
 When Lillian opened her eyes from her first fainting 
 spell she saw Mr. Marsh holding Robert's head on his 
 arm and trying to put some spirits between his lips. 
 Her large, beautiful eyes sought John's in mute ap- 
 peal, who said brightly: 
 
 4 'He will soon get all right, Miss Lillian. I thought 
 he was dead, and scared you so you fainted. I didn't 
 know you were here. Do you think you are strong 
 enough to walk through the woods to the road. It is 
 not very far." 
 
 "Oh, yes," Lillian tried to say bravely, but her lips 
 quivered. 
 
 4 4 Jake must go home and bring a conveyance and 
 a cloak for you and some men to carry Mr. Nelson 
 home. We can make a stretcher of the door. Stop at 
 Sam Lynch 's on the way, Jake, and get him to go for 
 
LILLIAN'S SECRET 75 
 
 Dr. Graham. Break it to Miss Alice as gently as you 
 can." 
 
 Jake hurried as fast as he could, but it seemed a 
 long time to the silent watchers in the hut. Mrs. 
 Burke was commissioned to tell Mrs. Stafford that 
 Jake had returned and said Lillian had sought shelter 
 in an old hut in the woods. He had carried the 
 phaeton to bring her home, and that Mr. Nelson had 
 been shot, but not badly, by some man lurking in the 
 woods. 
 
 4 'They are going to bring him here, and have sent 
 for Dr. Graham, ' ' Mrs. Burke added. 
 
 Mrs. Stafford never knew how she lived through 
 that terrible night. It was many days before either 
 she or Helen knew all the dreadful particulars. Dr. 
 Graham pronounced Robert's wound quite a painful 
 one, but not dangerous— said the concussion on his 
 head was even more dangerous than the wound, but 
 it would take only quiet and good nursing for a few 
 weeks to get him all right again. The doctor himself 
 went for Helen the next morning and made so light 
 of it all she was not alarmed and excited over the 
 affair as her friends feared she would be. 
 
 "Moss Side is a delightful place to visit/ ? the doctor 
 said, jovially. "Most any of us men would be willing 
 to have a slight wound to get an excuse to stay there 
 for awhile. Miss Lillian is so beautiful, she can charm 
 away pain with her lovely smiles, and Mrs. Stafford is 
 so delightfully pleasant and kind she can nurse any- 
 body back to health." Helen smiled a little at his en- 
 thusiasm. Dr. Graham was a widower, and she re- 
 membered Madam Rumor had said he had tried to get 
 Mrs. Stafford to console him for the loss of his wife, 
 and had failed. 
 
 The next morning after the tragic events at the old 
 building in the woods John Marsh and Jake Booth 
 
76 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 had gone to Cuckoo's Nest and inquired for Walter 
 Brunette. The housekeeper said he had come and 
 stayed one day, but had left on the evening train of 
 the preceding day. Of course, the men knew better, 
 but, thinking perhaps the housekeeper did not, they 
 left a letter to be sent to his address, in which he was 
 warned not to show himself in the neighborhood again, 
 as those who knew of his dastardly act were highly 
 incensed against him, and would not fail to wreak 
 vengeance upon him if they could catch him. 
 
 Robert Nelson soon rallied from the effects of his 
 wounds and seemed greatly to enjoy his convalescence 
 at Moss Side. 
 
 Lillian had never seen him so gay, so light-hearted. 
 The burden of responsibility seemed suddenly to have 
 fallen from his shoulders, and his laugh rang out as 
 merrily as if there was no such thing as dull care in 
 the w r orld. Indeed, after that eventful night Lillian 
 and Robert seemed to have changed dispositions. 
 While Robert laughed, sang and played games with 
 much zest, Lillian, usually so joyous and sunny ~na- 
 tured, became pensive and subdued in her manners. 
 
 Aunt Alice often surprised her in a reverie, some- 
 times with tears in her eyes, and she would evade her 
 question when she begged to know the cause. Dr. 
 Graham said it was the consequence of the overtension 
 of nerves resulting from her experience at the hut, 
 and would gradually wear away ; but it seemed to in- 
 crease rather than diminish, though Mrs. Stafford 
 made every effort to restore her to her former buoy- 
 ancy. When in company she tried hard to be her 
 former self, but it was evident it was an effort and 
 her heart was not in it. The truth was, Walter Bru- 
 nette's words that fateful night, "You love the pale- 
 faced owner of the Hall,'" and the despair that had 
 seized her when she thought him dead, had revealed 
 
LILLIAN'S SECRET 
 
 77 
 
 to her the fact that she loved Robert Nelson— not as 
 she had loved Gerald Lemoine, with a sort of girlisK 
 fancy, but with all the strength of her womanly na- 
 ture—with the one love of her life. The very thought 
 of it humiliated her. She had given her love unsought 
 to one who deemed her unworthy of it— to one who 
 had taken^great pains to show her he did not wish even 
 her friendship. With startling emphasis Gerald Le- 
 moine 's words came ringing through memory's halls— 
 1 ' Mark my prediction. The time will come when the 
 measure you are meting out to me will be measured 
 to you again ; when you will love as I do and your love 
 will be as little valued as mine now is. ' 9 Had not his 
 prediction come true, and was it not a retaliation for 
 treating Lemoine as she did ? She could not have left 
 Aunt Annie sigk, but could she not have been kinder, 
 gentler with him when he was suffering for love of 
 her? This secret must be kept safely locked in her 
 own breast, and no one must suspect it. She must 
 crush it, if her heart was broken by the effort. A hot 
 flush always mounted to her brow when she remem- 
 bered her involuntary exclamation when she thought 
 Robert was dead. Did the men notice Jit or did they 
 attribute it only to the excitement of the moment? 
 She could but hope the latter. One evening Robert 
 said with a fond look at Mrs. Stafford : 
 
 "Auntie, I must leave you to-morrow. It almost 
 makes me blush to think I am unwilling to go home 
 after taxing your hospitality and kindness so long, 
 but I cannot frame even an excuse to stay longer. I 
 am afraid I would try to do so if I did not know my 
 presence is needed at the Hall. It will soon be harvest 
 time, and I must make arrangements for gathering 
 and saving the crops. But, Auntie, I do hate to leave 
 you all. I, who have never been sick before, have so 
 
78 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 much enjoyed being waited on like a prince by you, 
 Auntie, and petted like a baby by Mrs. Burke and 
 Helen, and last, but far from least, have had Miss 
 Lillian to sing my favorite ballads. Who would not 
 be willing to be sick to have such a delightful experi- 
 ence?" 
 
HOW HE WON HER 
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HOW HE WON HER, 
 
 Autumn drew on apace. The time of harvesting 
 came and went. The crops had been unusually plente- 
 ous, especially at the Hall. The result of Robert Nel- 
 son's personal supervision and wise management was 
 plainly visible, and his wise and prudent disposition of 
 his produce made it profitable beyond his expectation, 
 and greatly encouraged him. One evening as Mrs. 
 Stafford and Helen stood at an open window at the 
 Hall watching the horses draw the heavily laden 
 wagons to the barns and cribs, Helen exclaimed : 
 
 " Auntie, I am just as proud of Buddie's being a 
 good farmer as if he were a physician like papa and 
 grandpapa. Papa wanted Buddie to be a farmer and 
 restore the fields of the Hall to their former fertility. 
 You know, with the exception of grandpa and papa, all 
 our race on their side have been farmers, and took 
 great pride in their management of the estate. That 
 was one reason Uncle Henri did not wish mamma to 
 marry papa, because he said the Nelsons were tillers 
 of the soil. You ought to have seen Buddie draw him- 
 self up to his full height when uncle said that, and 
 declare he intended to be a manager of the estate, as 
 his ancestors had been, and would be proud of an oc- 
 cupation both useful and ennobling if rightly pur- 
 sued. I feared uncle would get mad, but he didn't 
 seem to. I think he respected Buddie more for ex- 
 pressing himself so bravely, in spite of his opposition. 
 I used to be afraid of angering him, but Buddie 
 wasn't at all. Don't you think Buddie deserves praise, 
 Auntie?" 
 
80 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 6 i Certainly I do, my dear. I think Robert is a noble 
 representative of a noble race. I have always loved 
 him as if he were a nephew in reality as well as in 
 name. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, dear Auntie, we both love you as if you were 
 our own dear Auntie and Lillian as if she was really 
 our cousin. By the way, Auntie, why does Lillian 
 refuse my every invitation to the Hall lately? She 
 always makes some excuse for not coming. Now, this 
 evening she has gone to Dr. Graham's, when I wanted 
 to see her so very much, and had anticipated the pleas- 
 ure of seeing you both." 
 
 "Well, my dear, Maude and Vivian wrote for her 
 first, and she had promised to go. Now, don't be 
 jealous. Lillian loves you just as dearly as she ever 
 did, and will come over soon." 
 
 But Lillian was in a strait in regard to the position 
 in which she found herself. She knew Aunt Alice 
 watched her closely. How could she keep her and 
 others from discovering her secret, of which she felt 
 so ashamed? How could she be as "wise as a serpent 
 and yet as harmless as a dove?" Robert Nelson 
 thought her a heartless coquette, unworthy of the love 
 she had so unconsciously given him. Why should he 
 so esteem her? She had in no way knowingly, by 
 word, look or act, tried to win his love. His very cool- 
 ness and reticence to her, if nothing else, had 
 saved her from such unmaidenly conduct. His 
 very reserve had been her safeguard, and from 
 her heart she thanked and honored him for it. 
 "Deeming me the despicable creature he did, 
 it showed his manliness not to attempt to flirt 
 with me." She would be as cool to him as he 
 had been to her and strive to show an indifference she 
 did not feel, but which she earnestly desired to feel 
 
HOW HE WON HER 
 
 81 
 
 towards one who esteemed her not. Fearing Aunt 
 Alice might find out the state of her feelings, she as- 
 sumed a gayety that was really an effort to her; but 
 Mrs. Stafford, who had studied her as a loving mother 
 studies her child, was as much puzzled as ever to know 
 the cause of the change in Lillian. Once when Aunt 
 Alice seemed more than usually anxious about her, 
 Lillian put her arms lovingly around her and said : 
 
 "Auntie, dear, don't trouble the least bit about me. 
 I am no longer a child—a careless, pleasure-loving 
 child — but I seem suddenly to have become a woman, 
 with some sense of a woman's responsibility in life. 
 With most girls the change is a gradual one ; but with 
 me it has been a sudden awakening. I am praying 
 God to show me my life work— as the Psalmist ex- 
 presses it, 4 To cause me to know the way wherein I 
 should walk.' I have heretofore been only a butter- 
 fly, content to enjoy the pleasures that came to me. 
 Now I want to be a worker in His vineyard, accom- 
 plishing something in life worthy of being called 
 duty.' , Mrs. Stafford looked at her anxiously and 
 said earnestly : 
 
 "My dear Lillian, your path of duty lies in my 
 home, to comfort and cheer my declining days ; to be 
 a companion to me in my loneliness ; to help me be a 
 better neighbor by giving of my substance to the needy 
 and my sympathy and help to the down-hearted and 
 desolate, thus fulfilling the law of my Divine Master. 
 That is your duty until you shall go to a home of your 
 own, to be a crown of joy to your husband. 7 ' 
 
 "I never expect to marry, Aunt Alice,' y Lillian said 
 firmly. 
 
 * Tut, tut, Lillian. Man/ a girl says that at your 
 age who is a beloved wiie and mother at twenty-five. 
 Stop all that moralizing and theorizing and leave the 
 future to God, who, if we let Him, will gradually to- 
 
82 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 fold to us the duties of life as the buds of the lily un- 
 fold day by day, bringing the lovely petals to per- 
 fection. Rude hands that try to hasten the unf olding 
 mar its beauty, and it is never the perfect flower it 
 would have become.' 9 
 
 She bent over and kissed the lovely girl, whose 
 beauty had unfolded to her admiring eyes until she 
 felt extremely proud of her protege, fairer than any 
 flower earth ever knew. 
 
 Lillian smiled with satisfaction one evening when 
 she overheard Mrs. Burke say to Mrs. Stafford s 
 
 "Miss Alice, isn't it strange Miss Lillian and Mr. 
 Nelson don't seem to like each other? I used to think 
 they would just suit— the one so lovely and sweet, 
 the other so manly and true." 
 
 "Yes," Mrs. Stafford answered; "they have never 
 seemed to be friendly with each other. I can only 
 explain it by what often occurs. If we hear a great 
 deal of praise given a person, we are apt to be dis- 
 appointed on meeting that person— having, perhaps, 
 set too high an estimate. There seems to have been a 
 mutual disappointment in the case of Lillian and Rob- 
 ert, and yet I do not see how either could have been 
 disappointed in the other." 
 
 "I do not see either," Mrs. Burke said, "for Miss 
 Lillian is lovelier than anybody could ever describe 
 her. I used to see Mr. Robert look at her very ad- 
 miringly when he was here wounded, but he looked! 
 like he didn't want anybody to see him." 
 
 "Ah, Mrs. Burke, you mistook his looks," Lillian 
 said, mentally, as the words came to her on the soft 
 autumnal air. "I ought not to have listened, but I 
 didn't hear the evil the eavesdropper usually hears 
 of himself. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Stafford with a view to bring back Lillian's 
 
HOW HE WON HER 
 
 83 
 
 former spirits, arranged to have a play at Moss Side. 
 It was entitled 4 ' How He Won Her. 9 9 Lillian was the 
 heroine and Paul Graham, who was at home on a 
 visit, was the hero, who after many trials and diffi- 
 culties wins the lady of his undying love. There were 
 nights of rehearsal, which the young people greatly 
 enjoyed. As Robert Nelson and Helen were characters 
 in the play, they were often at Moss Side. In her in- 
 terest in the play Lillian seemed herself again. She 
 had begged not to be the heroine, but when they all 
 insisted so strongly upon it she entered into it with 
 all the zest of her intense nature. At last the final 
 night came. All the neighbors were gathered at Moss 
 Side in eager expectancy. Lillian was ready and hur- 
 riedly descended the stairs to the dining room to get 
 some flowers she had left there in water and which 
 she was to hold in her hand in one of the acts. In- 
 tent upon her purpose, with a bright smile upon her 
 lips, she did not notice there was an occupant in the 
 room. Robert Nelson had gone to the dining room f 
 for a chair and had just secured it when Lillian came 
 in, a vision of such perfect loveliness, he lost his pru- 
 dence, his timidity, he had long before lost his heart, 
 and coming forward with a look in his eye Lillian had 
 never seen there, said: 
 
 ' i Don 't let me startle you, Miss Lillian. But I must 
 ask you a question to-night upon which my future hap- 
 piness depends. I love you, my angel, love you as I 
 think no man ever loved before. I have tried so hard 
 to hide it until, like the Spartan boy's fox, it is con- 
 suming my very life. Darling, tell me is there any 
 hope for me? Can I win you, my peerless one? If 
 there is any hope give me one of the rosebuds from 
 your taper fingers and it will make me happier than 
 any monarch upon his throne." 
 
84 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 A light had broken over Lillian's face as she heard 
 this avowal of love so unexpected. There was not a 
 minute to lose. They were awaiting her and would 
 come to seek her. Her eloquent eyes sought his with 
 a shy glance. What she saw there must have satis- 
 fied her, for selecting a bud she held it to him and 
 sped away. 
 
 Over Robert Nelson's face broke a light that made 
 him look radiantly happy. He kissed the bud fondly 
 as he whispered, "Beautiful emblem, pure and spot- 
 less, perfect of its kind, as she who bids me hope is per- 
 fect in the perfection of womanhood. They told me 
 she was untrue, that she used her brilliant and en- 
 trancing beauty to ensnare hearts. How could I have 
 believed such heartlessness could exist in one so be- 
 loved by her own sex? If I can only win her how in- 
 expressibly happy I shall be, how very happy Helen 
 will be!" 
 
 At that moment Helen appeared, exclaiming : 
 
 "Buddie, I have looked for you everywhere. Here 
 you are admiring one of Lillian's most beautiful buds 
 which you have stolen from her. Let me pin it on your 
 lapel if you must have it." 
 
 Then with a bright look she asked, "Isn't Lillian ex- 
 quisitely lovely to-night? Oh, brother, if you could 
 only win the priceless jewel of her pure love ! ' ' 
 
 The play was a perfect success. Lillian had never 
 looked so lovely. There was a soft light in her mag- 
 netic eyes and a joyous brightness irradiated her beau- 
 tiful features to which her assumed gayety was as 
 dross to pure gold. The most enthusiastic applause 
 greeted her every appearance on the stage. 
 
 Aunt Alice noticed the change in Lillian and mistak- 
 ing the cause said mentally— 
 
HOW HE WON HER 85 
 
 "It was excitement Lillian needed. The quiet lone- 
 line^ must be stagnation to a bright young life like 
 hers. I have been very selfishly happy with her and 
 have never felt till to-night how selfish I have been. 
 Moss Side must become the social center it used to be, 
 and not the cage of my sweet bird that pines for free- 
 dom.' * 
 
86 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE FORGED LETTER. 
 
 The next morning after the play Lillian received 
 a note from Robert Nelson, stating that business of im- 
 portance would call him from home for a few days, 
 deeply regretting the necessity of leaving her when 
 she had given him a right to hope for success in win- 
 ning her. Her eyes shone resplendent and the car- 
 nation of her cheeks deepened as she read his words 
 of impassiond love. She sat with a happy smile on her 
 lips when Mrs. Stafford entered. 
 
 ''Lillian," she said, "I want you to help me think 
 of some other amusement. The young people need rec- 
 reation and all, both young and old, enjoyed the play 
 very much. What shall it be next?" 
 
 After some deliberation, it was decided there should 
 be a picnic down the river. It was lovely Indian sum- 
 mer weather. It would be delightful to spend the day 
 on the banks and fish or row at will. Lillian entered 
 into it with unwonted enthusiasm. The world was so 
 beautiful to her to-day, so full of brightness. Love's 
 sweet dream had been realized and Cupid had with his 
 strange, invisible power transmuted the common real- 
 ities of life into golden possibilities. She wondered 
 if anybody had ever been so happy before. Robert 
 had loved her after all. While she was striving with 
 all her might to crush her love for him, he had been 
 striving to hide his love from her. How many mo- 
 ments of sadness and doubt they would have saved 
 each other if they had only understood. He would 
 be back in time for the picnic and that fact promised 
 enjoyment to her. If only he would be near, if she 
 
THE FORGED LETTER 87 
 
 could look into the fine eyes and noble face that had 
 become so dear to her, the picnic wonld be a success 
 to her at least. 
 
 The day arrived. It was an ideal day for a picnic, 
 and soon all the young people were on their way to a 
 place called ' 'Beau Catcher/ ' because it had been the 
 scene of so many similar occasions which had resulted 
 in marriages. 
 
 Robert and Helen were there when the party from 
 Moss Side arrived. Robert had returned home the 
 night before. Such a day they had, crowded with 
 pleasure, every moment bringing with it something 
 pleasant to remember afterwards. There was rowing 
 on the river, and fishing and games, and singing on the 
 banks, smiles and laughter everywhere. As usual Lil- 
 lian was the center of every gay group, the admired of 
 all admirers. 
 
 Paul Graham was her shadow. The play had made 
 him a victim of her many charms and had awakened 
 in him a great desire to win her. Robert Nelson, for 
 the first time in his life, felt very cross to Paul, who 
 had from boyhood been one of his best friends. He 
 could not find a moment to be alone with Lillian until 
 just before the time for leaving, then whispering 
 words of love and promising to be over early the next 
 morning they separated, but Lillian's bright, sweet 
 smile lingered with him and made Helen ask, as they 
 drove home, "Brother, what makes you so happy? I 
 have been watching you and have never seen you look 
 so bright." 
 
 "A secret, my dear little sister, which I will tell you 
 in the future.' 9 
 
 Helen sighed. She thought it must be connected 
 with his going from home and she had hoped so earn- 
 estly that Buddie would love and win Lillian. Robert 
 
88 
 
 LILLIAN DbVERR 
 
 was too busy with his own thoughts to notice Helen's 
 sadness and so she, too, suffered from not understand* 
 ing the state of feeling between the two lovers. 
 
 The next morning Robert came early and toot Lil- 
 lian for a row upon the river. It was a glorious day 
 for happy lovers. The weather was superb and the 
 scene one of extraordinary beauty. The water 
 Hashed like molten silver and the spray that rose from 
 the splashing oars catching the slanting sunbeams was 
 like a shower of tiny pearls. The glancing water re- 
 flected the light as if it were draped with liquid mir- 
 rors, while the wild vines climbing the great trees on 
 the river bank hung over the water like a canopy of 
 green and gold. Lillian was a dear lover of nature 
 in her softer moods and her eyes often rested admir- 
 ingly upon the beautiful scene, but Robert Nelson had 
 no eyes save for the sweet face before him with its won- 
 drous loveliness of feature and expression— the fairest 
 picture he had ever looked upon, and she had promised 
 to give her life into his keeping. How his heart beat 
 exultant at the thought, and yet in his pocket lay a 
 letter which if penned by the small shapely hand 
 playing in the water, would turn his joy into despair. 
 
 Looking into the lovely eyes, sparkling with pleas- 
 ure, but meeting his with the soft, shy look of young 
 love, how could he mistrust her? He would not. He 
 would believe in her with all the strength of a man's 
 faith for the woman he loves, and he gave himself up 
 fully to the enjoyment of being with the object of his 
 deepest, purest affection. 
 
 He told her as he returned to the house that he must 
 tell Auntie and obtain her sanction to their engage- 
 ment. 
 
 With a deep blush, she fled to her room on reaching 
 the door and Robert went to find Mrs. Stafford. He 
 
THE FORGED LETTER 
 
 89 
 
 found her busy with her domestic duties, but she will- 
 ingly put them all aside to listen to something import- 
 ant that "her boy" wanted to say to her. First he 
 took from his pocket a letter written in a small deli- 
 cate hand and signed "Lillian De V." Holding the 
 signature to Auntie he asked her if Lillian wrote it. 
 
 "I think she did," Mrs. Stafford replied, surprised 
 at the question. ' ' It looks like her writing and that is 
 her signature, but what is it and why do you ask ? ' ' 
 
 ' 1 1 found this sheet of a letter on the road from Mel- 
 ton one evening about two months ago. Read it and 
 then see if you think Miss Lillian wrote it." 
 
 Mrs. Stafford read with dilating eyes: "Yes, dear 
 Walter, it may be dangerous to play with fire as you 
 suggest, but rest assured I am fire-proof in that di- 
 rection. I shall never be content until I shall have 
 the proud aristocrat of the Hall at my feet. I am 
 courting his weak little sister, shall make love to her 
 and then with that show of innocent artlessness in 
 which you say I am an adept, will strive to win his 
 love, that I may have the pleasure of breaking his 
 heart. Though he holds his head so high, and treats 
 me so coolly as if I were unworthy of his love, he shall 
 yet bend to the power of my beauty by which so many 
 men have been victimized. But don't be jealous, dear 
 Walter, you are my only, my best beloved. You will 
 understand the game and ought to watch it with keen 
 interest, as you seem never to have liked the man. 
 Now, dear, let me have my way about this and when I 
 am yours you will exult in having won me from so 
 many competitors. 
 
 Fondly yours, 
 
 Lillian De V/' 
 
 Mrs. Stafford looked up after reading it through 
 with an angry gleam in the usually mild eyes. 
 
90 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 "It is a base fabrication. Nothing so unwomanly 
 ever emanated from Lillian's pure heart, nor was ever 
 penned by her dear hand. It is Walter Brunette's 
 vile work. He imitated her writing and threw it in 
 your way. I doubt not, was concealed behind some 
 rock to see that you picked it up and exulted in the 
 seeming success of his scheme to keep you from lov- 
 ing Lillian. Rest assured she is as innocent of this as 
 I am." 
 
 "I am quite convinced of it now, but I confess it 
 taxed my faith in her severely when I first found it, 
 especially after comparing it with a note to Helen 
 written on paper exactly like the letter and in a hand 
 apparently a counterpart of it. Then, too, I had 
 heard before I saw her that Lillian was a flirt. It 
 came from Walter Brunette and w r as a part of his plot, 
 doubtless. One day just before the occurrence at the 
 hut I saw in a paper that an expert in writing was 
 in the city. As I had business that would have taken 
 me there in a few days, I made no delay in consulting 
 him. Without her knowledge I took a note from 
 Helen \s work-box and with the two sought the expert, 
 who after a careful examination, said, 4 It is a good 
 imitation, but was not w r ritten by the same hand.' 
 Then he showed me the difference in the formation 
 of several letters which I had not noticed. At last 
 he said after another examination, 'If I mistake not 
 the letter was written by a man, and the note by a 
 lady, but the imitation was skillfully executed. ' 
 
 "I felt somewhat relieved but was not convinced 
 until the night at the old building. As I stepped 
 upon the threshold, I seemed to take in the whole situ- 
 ation at a glance. The light that broke over the 
 agonized white face at sight of me, made me know 
 she was in mortal fright of the man whom the letter 
 purported she loved. When I lay here wounded, 
 
THE FORGED LETTER 
 
 91 
 
 often seemingly unconscious, I was trying to think it 
 all out, and when I became better and lingered in your 
 home it was to study the home life of one to whom 
 I felt I had unconsciously given my first, my only 
 love. I felt assured then that I had misjudged her. 
 But even then I was afraid to offer myself to her, tho ' 
 my heart was so full of love for her. I felt sometimes 
 like throttling Paul Graham when he was making 
 love to her in the play. The night of the play when 
 I saw her in her entrancing beauty, every barrier of 
 distrust went down before the purity that shone from 
 her clear, wondrous eyes and I declared my love. She 
 bade me hope and I am come to-day to ask your sanc- 
 tion to our engagement. I thought, however, to 
 make assurance doubly sure, I would show you the 
 letter and get your opinion of it." 
 Mrs. Stafford thoughf ully said : 
 
 ''Robert, my word is not sufficient proofs In such 
 a momentous question in which the happiness of two 
 lives is involved there must be no doubt of each 
 other underlying the foundation of your future. You 
 must learn from Lillian 's lips the falsity of this let- 
 ter, which so strongly attacks her character. I have 
 never in all my intercourse with her known her to de- 
 viate in any way from the truth. Her guileless na- 
 ture seemed to revolt from the courtesy with which 
 she was from the nature of things compelled to treat 
 Walter Brunette. She mistrusted and feared him 
 and it was almost torture to her to have to receive his 
 attentions when she found he was wooing her." 
 
 "No, no! Auntie, I am satisfied, don't let's trou- 
 ble her with a thought of what we are assured is 
 that villain's plot." 
 
 "Let me manage it," Mrs. Stafford said. "I will 
 not give her unnecessary pain," 
 
92 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 Lillian was called and came in blushing, expecting 
 Aunt Alice's congratulation on her choice. Instead 
 Aunt Alice asked: 4 4 Lillian, have you ever written 
 Walter Brunette any love letters? " 
 
 Lillian paled a little as she always did when Walter 
 Brunette's name was called, but she answered at once 
 firmly : 
 
 "AVhy, no, Aunt Alice, I have never written him a 
 line, except to accept or decline his attentions or 
 tiianks ior some favor he may have extended." 
 
 * i In writing those notes you sent the whole sheet 
 of paper, though there were but a few words on it?" 
 
 4 'Yes, ma'am. I always do that. But, Auntie, 
 why these questions and why are you and Mr. Nelson 
 so serious about it?" 
 
 "Nothing except that before he left the neighbor- 
 hood he tried to leave that impression. But he has 
 gone now and w T ill not trouble us any more. Go tell 
 Mrs. Burke I will be there presently. I want to have 
 a little talk with Robert first. ' ' 
 
 Lillian ere she left the room caught the look of 
 love that beamed from Robert's eyes and her heart 
 was very happy. As she disappeared Robert Nelson 
 threw the letter in the open grate and as he watched 
 it burn every vestige of suspicion or mistrust was 
 banished from his mind, and never afterwards entered 
 there to destroy his peace. Auntie and Robert had a 
 long and serious talk. 
 
 Mrs. Stafford said : 
 
 "I am no match-maker, my boy. I would not in 
 any way try to influence those I love to enter into a 
 bond which might prove to be one of unhappiness to 
 them. I think those only should marry who have 
 arrived at years of discretion and they should make 
 their own choice. While this is true, I shall not try 
 to conceal the preat pleasure it gives me to know 
 
THE FORGED LETTER 93 
 
 that you and Lillian love each other. I love you both 
 very dearly and your welfare will be an object of 
 greatest interest to me. I confess to you Lillian's fu- 
 ture has given me great concern. Walter Brunette's 
 almost insane love for her and his apparent desire to 
 secure her at all hazards, has caused me many a sleep- 
 less night. My apprehension from that source will be 
 at an end when she becomes your wife. He -will not 
 then dare to molest her." 
 
 "If he dare," were Robert's words, spoken with a 
 fierceness that foreboded no good to the absent man. 
 
 "In view of these things, Auntie, and as I have 
 never liked long engagements, help me to plead with 
 Lillian to marry me as soon as arrangements can be 
 made. I think it will be best for all parties." 
 
 Mrs. Stafford agreed. Lillian was called in and it 
 ended by the marriage being appointed for January 
 the seventeenth. It was now the last of November. 
 
94 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE NOTE OP WARNING. 
 
 It was agreed that the marriage should be a very 
 quiet one. Only the most intimate friends of the 
 family were apprised of it and asked to keep it a se- 
 cret. Robert Nelson told Paul Graham of it the first 
 after Helen. He thought that young man was getting 
 too much interested in Lillian for his own peace of 
 mind, and as a friend, he wished to save him from dis- 
 appointment in that direction. Paul seemed almost 
 dazed when he learned the truth and said : 
 
 "I know congratulations are in order, but I can't 
 offer them now. Give me time, old friend, give me 
 time." 
 
 He recovered sufficiently not only to offer congratu- 
 lations, but to act as Robert's best man on that im- 
 portant occasion. Like a true man he fought and 
 conquered. 
 
 Mrs. Stafford and Lillian took a short visit to New 
 York to make necessary arrangements. Everything 
 progressed finely. Robert was an ardent lover and 
 few days elapsed between his visits to Moss Side. 
 
 Somehow he feared the treachery of Walter Bru- 
 nette and was uneasy if he could not every day as- 
 sure himself of Lillian's safety. One day he did not 
 come as usual and Lillian did not hear from him. 
 
 In the evening she yielded to little Joe Marsh's en- 
 treaties to go fishing. She had been afraid to leave 
 home alone since Walter Brunette's threat, but she 
 and Joe, a boy about ten years of age, would some- 
 times go to the boat-house and catch fish, of which 
 sport Joe was very fond. She was the more willing to 
 
THE NOTE OF WARNING 95 
 
 go on this occasion because she could think while the 
 fish were getting into the notion to bite, and Joe kept 
 quiet lest he should scare them away. As the sun 
 began to sink she arose to go home. 
 
 "Please, Miss Lillian, wait a little minute longer. 
 I have got a splendid bite and it's a big fish, too. I 
 felt him just now." 
 
 Smiling at Joe's enthusiasm, she reseated herself 
 and was soon deeply engrossed in thought. 
 
 * * Surely, Robert will come to-night, ' ' she was think- 
 ing, with a soft, happy light in her eyes. * ' He always 
 comes or writes if he is not coming. ' ' 
 
 At that moment a slight motion just behind her at- 
 tracted her attention and, looking around hastily, she 
 uttered a slight scream at the grotesque figure that 
 met her eye. It was a man, evidently a peddler, for 
 he carried a huge pack on his back, dressed in very 
 coarse, ill-fitting garments. His eyes were concealed 
 by a pair of dark blue double glasses, which pro- 
 tected both the front and sides of his eyes from the 
 light. His head was bound about by a woolen com- 
 forter which entirely hid the lower portion of his face. 
 His hat was drawn down over his brow to his very 
 eyes. A more repulsive, disagreeable companion could 
 hardly be imagined, rendered more frightful by the 
 deepening twilight. Was it true or mere fancy that 
 the man's hand had been about to grasp her? 
 
 Lillian was greatly frightened and by a sudden 
 bound, sprang past the man, almost overturning Joe, 
 who forgot all about his fish, as he picked himself up 
 and moved closer to Lillian for protection. 
 
 After a few minutes to recover herself, Lillian 
 asked with assumed coolness: 
 
 "What will you have?" 
 
 "Any goods to-day?" was asked in the tone of a 
 foreigner. 
 
96 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 "No, thank you," Lillian answered, reassured. 
 "Come, Joe, we must hurry, " and Joe was willing 
 enough to leave now. She was about to hurry off 
 when the man said in a voice of command: 
 
 "Stop, look at my goods. I am in need and you 
 can help me." 
 
 With a polite, "No, thank you. I wish no goods 
 to-day," she took from her purse a piece of silver, laid 
 it in his hand and was gone. 
 
 She looked back once to see if the uncouth figure 
 was pursuing her, for she felt very much afraid of 
 him, but he was standing in the spot she had left him. 
 She imagined she saw something like silver flash in 
 the air as if he had tossed the coin she gave him away, 
 but she dismissed the thought as improbable. 
 
 Jim could have enlightened her on the subject. He 
 was returning from an errand and found the silver 
 coin in the road. With the thought, "Somebody's loss 
 is my gain, ' ' he pocketed it with a chuckle. Just as he 
 reached the gate of Moss Side, he heard some one 
 give a low call. Turning he saw in the twilight a 
 strange-looking peddler who asked if he could give 
 him lodging for the night . 
 
 "No, sir," Jim answered quickly. "We don't take 
 in any strangers here." 
 
 "But can't you give me a place without the folks at 
 the house knowing it? I will pay you well and be off 
 before light. ' ' 
 
 "If you try that game here, you'd be sorry for it. 
 There's a terrible dog here that is kept chained all day 
 and let loose at night and he'd tear you to pieces. He 
 don 't like such as you nohow, being, you know, a big 
 dog, like the folks that own him. If you have plenty 
 of money to pay for a lodging you'd better go on to 
 Anston. Or, if you's too tired for that and got any- 
 thing to eat, there's a hut in the woods not far from 
 
THE NOTE OF WARNING 97 
 
 here where you can stay all night." The man turned 
 off with a muttered curse, deep and low, and Jim 
 looking after him said: 
 
 "The idea of the likes of him staying anywhere 
 around here to-night. If Victor could catch a view 
 of him, he'd move faster than he is moving. I don't 
 like the looks of him." 
 
 In the meantime Lillian hastened home so rapidly, 
 Joe found great difficulty in keeping pace with her. 
 The distance from the boathouse had never seemed 
 so great before, nor the lights of Moss Side so wel- 
 come. She reached home panting with the unusual 
 exertion and told Auntie she had been frightened by 
 a strange-looking peddler. As peddlers were rather 
 common, the occurrence gave her but temporary 
 fright, and as Robert soon made his appearance it was 
 forgotten. 
 
 Lillian never knew that fear of Victor saved her 
 from an attempt at abduction for which all plans had 
 been carefully laid. Brunette, as a peddler, was to 
 bribe some of the servants to give him a night 's lodg- 
 ing. He knew that Lillian's room was on the second 
 floor and being an expert athlete, he knew, too, he 
 could easily climb to it, and effect an entrance, after 
 chloroforming her under the door. He could secure 
 his prize and take her to a close carriage which was 
 in waiting in the woods near by. He had never 
 known there was a dog and when he found out there 
 was one so w T atchful and terrible as Jim represented, 
 he was aware his scheme had miscarried. 
 
 About a week after as Lillian was one evening at 
 twilight walking the front porch enjoying the unusual 
 warmth of the winter eve, a colored man approached, 
 bearing a letter, and asked if she was Miss De Vere. 
 Being answered in the affirmative, he handed her the 
 letter. It bore her name and looked as if had been 
 
98 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 written very hurriedly by Robert. Fearing that some- 
 thing had happened at the Hall, she asked hastily : 
 
 ' ' Is there anything wrong at the Hall ? AVho gave 
 you this letter? 
 
 "I don't know, ma'am. A gentleman said if I 
 would bring it and give it into your hands he would 
 pay me well for it. I 'se done it and earned my money. 
 Good evening, ma'am," and was gone. 
 
 As the darkness was increasing she went hastily to 
 her room, lighted the lamp and tore open her letter. 
 Every vestige of color receded from her face, leaving 
 it pale with surprise and horror, as she read the follow- 
 ing words written in a hand she knew only too well : 
 
 "Did you, my pretty cooing dove, hope to escape 
 my meshes? It is no fault of mine that the man lives 
 who rescued you from me when you were about to con- 
 sent to be mine. I shot to kill, but my aim was not so 
 true as I wished it. He will marry you, tf he can, to 
 please ' Auntie,' but with mistrust in his heart. He 
 would secure the brooch for its beautiful setting, 
 though he suspects the seeming jewel to be but a paste. 
 He shall not, he must not have you— you are mine I 
 know you are worthy of any man's love, my beauti- 
 ful angel, and if I could only get you to listen calmly 
 to my suit, my absorbing love for you would soon win 
 your love in return and we would be so happy, love, 
 so happy, for you are mine to love till death us do part 
 or unite forever. History records that Antony threw 
 away a world for love of Cleopatra. I have thrown 
 away the fairest prospects of the future, am a wan- 
 derer from my home and may fill a felon's grave for 
 love of you. As I told you I come of a stubborn, reso- 
 lute stock. If anyone lives who would take you from 
 me let him first sit down and count the cost. You are 
 mine and I will have you. If ruin comes, if death 
 comes, whatever comes, I will have you. My words 
 
THE NOTE OP WARNING 99 
 
 may seem wild, men might adjudge me insane. If I 
 am beside myself, it is because your bewitching 
 beauty has cast a spell around me which I cannot 
 throw off. I have reasoned against this passion 
 which maddens me. I have fought against it with all 
 the power I have left — all to no purpose. There is 
 but one being in all the world for me and that is— you. 
 Beware lest the fruit of joy that now seems so tempting 
 to you shall turn to apples of Sodom and become but 
 ashes to your lips. Again I say, beware I" 
 
 After reading these words that almost froze her 
 heart with fear, she sat down and tried to think it over 
 calmly. What did he mean ? He must indeed be in* 
 sane. 
 
 "I will not heed them. Robert must love me or he 
 would not so often have told and shown his love and 
 when I am once his wife, with his protection as my 
 safeguard, surely Walter Brunette will come to his 
 reason and cease to rave so. ' ' 
 
 Then surely he would marry his cousin, who loves 
 him, and her troubles in that direction would be 
 at an end. In the meantime she would try to be 
 patient and not trouble those she loved with his wild, 
 unreasoning words. So she tossed the letter into the 
 grate and watched it burn, as Robert had watched one 
 a few weeks before, penned by the same hand for the 
 same purpose. 
 
 Walter Brunette had written this letter for a two- 
 fold object, after his attempts at abduction had been 
 foiled. In the first place, he thought if Lillian loved 
 Robert Nelson, his threats against his safety might 
 make her hesitate to marry the object of her love from 
 fear of his vengeance. Then, too, he hoped by sowing 
 in her mind seeds of suspicion in regard to the purity 
 of Nelson's love for her,her proud, independent nature 
 might refuse to unite herself with one who she believed 
 
100 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 did not love her truly. A drowning man catches at a 
 straw and Brunette knew his chances of success with 
 Lillian were desperate, indeed. As if to prove his as- 
 sertion false, that night Robert came and was even 
 more than usually demonstrative of his love. On 
 parting with her, he whispered, rapturously — 
 
 "My darling, my beautiful, precious darling !" 
 
 When she ascended to her room, there was a fond, 
 happy smile on her lips. Walter Brunette's shot had 
 again failed of its desired effect. 
 
 The next time Mr. Nelson came Lillian begged him 
 to beware of Walter Brunette. 
 
 "Oh! Robert! Robert! he is as cruel as the grave. 
 He will try to do you deadly harm. He has sworn it 
 again and again, against whoever should come be- 
 tween him and his plans. Take care of your life, for 
 Helen's sake and mine," she had pleaded pathetically. 
 
 He had calmed her by the assurance she desired, but 
 he did not feel afraid of what he thought were Bru- 
 nette's idle threats, as he in his heart deemed them. 
 
JOY AND SORROW AT THE HALL 101 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 JOY AND SORROW AT THE HALL. 
 
 The day of the marriage approached. The morning 
 before that important event, Helen, with a bright, 
 happy face, said: 
 
 " Brother, I have a letter from Uncle Henri, enclos- 
 ing one for you. He wishes you to pay him a visit at 
 his hotel, as he is anxious to know Lillian. I think he 
 is favorably impressed with her, because I wrote 
 him her father was a French gentleman. You know 
 Uncle is very fond of 'La Belle France' though our cli- 
 mate suits his health better and Aunt Estellc loves 
 our country best. Don't you know they ,vill be de- 
 lighted with Lillian's beauty and love her dearly for 
 her sweet, gracious manners and own lovely, womanly 
 self?" 
 
 Her brother smiled down into the fair sweet face, 
 beaming with enthusiasm, as he answered : 
 
 " Nobody can see our darling Lillian without lov- 
 ing her. Poor Brunette! I pity even him!" 
 
 "So do I, Buddie, but I somehow fear his very 
 name since he attempted to make Lillian marry him 
 at the point of a pistol. That was the act of a mad- 
 man and such a one is not responsible for his acts. I 
 will feel relieved when you shall have married Lillian 
 and she is safe from his insane desire to make her his 
 own at all hazards." 
 
 "Well, dear, after to-morrow, you need not fear on 
 that account. He will never dare persecute her again, 
 though she is still nervous and I think fears more on 
 my account than on her own, for I never leave her 
 that she does not beg me to be cautious and ever on 
 
102 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 the alert against danger and an anxious look comes 
 into the lovely eyes. She shudders at the very men- 
 tion of his name. That will soon be past now. u 
 
 Alas ! for human hopes and expectations ! 
 
 The morning of the marriage dawned, bright and 
 warm for the wintry season. The marriage was a quiet 
 one, as had been arranged. Only the most intimate 
 friends witnessed the impressive ceremony that made 
 Lillian Robert Nelson's wife. Very lovely the bride 
 appeared and very handsome and manly the groom, 
 and many were the exclamations of admiration, and 
 sincere and hearty w r ere the congratulations showered 
 upon the contracting parties. 
 
 Lillian's smile was very happy and light. She had 
 somehow felt a dread of Walter Brunette ? s words, lest 
 he should at the last moment make some desperate at- 
 tempt to prevent her marriage. Now that fear fell 
 off her spirits like a heavy cloak, and she felt happy 
 and free from his terrible threats. 
 
 After the English breakfast the happy party set 
 out for the station and soon Robert and Lillian were 
 on their way to New York. 
 
 After a short stay there they went to visit Uncle 
 Henri and his wife, who boarded in a fine hotel on 
 the banks of the Hudson. The old people both fell in 
 love at first sight with Lillian's beauty, and when they 
 learned the sweetness and gentleness of her disposi- 
 tion, which was united with the French vivacity that 
 Uncle Henri said threw a golden sheen over her 
 other charms, their admiration was unbounded. 
 
 Their stay there was most delightful. The old peo- 
 ple were never tired of planning pleasures for the 
 young couple and seemed themselves to renew their 
 youth in their enjoyment of the appreciation of their 
 kindness. 
 
 When they left Robert was the recipient of a hand- 
 
JOY AND SORROW AT THE HALL 103 
 
 some check and Lillian was made very happy by Mrs. 
 Devereux's gift to her of an antique, but very costly, 
 brooch, set in jewels of the first water. 
 
 After a honeymoon of three weeks, Robert and Lil- 
 lian returned to their home and after an informal re- 
 ception at the Hall, everyone there settled down to 
 the quiet of a peaceful life. All who knew Robert 
 and Lillian predicted for them a happy future. What 
 bright prospects were theirs! 
 
 Mrs. Stafford had told Eobert she would help him 
 with her private fortune in any time of need, and this 
 assurance with Uncle Henri's check relieved him from 
 all present embarrassment. 
 
 For six months there were two happy homes, the 
 Hall and Moss Side. 
 
 4 'Auntie" came often to the Hall and those at the 
 Hall loved no place but home so well as Moss Side. 
 Helen seemed to have taken a new lease on life. A 
 faint color had crept into her fair cheek and a tinge 
 of corals into the sweet lips. Her laugh was as 
 bright and merry as the carol of a bird. Those who 
 had predicted an early death for her, began to doubt 
 their prophecies being fullilled, when an event oc- 
 curred that changed the happiness and brightness of 
 the Hall into sorrow and darkness and caused a thrill 
 of horror through the entire community. 
 
 Near the close of a lovely evening in July, Robert 
 Nelson returned from the city, to which he had gone 
 the preceding day. As he entered one of the carriage 
 gates, he saw Lillian in a summer-house and springing 
 from his buggy, hastened to meet her. She had been 
 watching for him and greeted him with a happy smile. 
 With her arm and one hand firmly clasped in his, 
 they walked in loving converse up and down the 
 rose-covered summer-house, which had always been 
 called "The Lover's Bower." The twilight deepened 
 
104 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 and still they walked on, talking of the business that 
 had called him away and which they did not wish 
 Helen to know of, as it concerned the mortgage on the 
 Hall which the man who held the papers had threat- 
 ened to foreclose, but from which Auntie had saved 
 them for the present. 
 
 ' ' I am not afraid now, love, of losing my ancestral 
 home. With Auntie and Uncle Henri to back us we 
 can defy Packard's millions.' ' 
 
 At that moment there came a pistol shot, accom- 
 panied by a startling w r hizz through the air. Robert 
 Nelson with a heavy groan fell at Lillian's feet and 
 the blood from his wound poured over her light gar- 
 ments. At sight of this and his upturned face, she 
 uttered a piercing shriek and fell in a swoon at his side. 
 
 Helen, who in the veranda had been awaiting Robert 
 and Lillian, at sound of the pistol shot in that direc- 
 tion rushed to the summer-house. By the faint light 
 she saw the two bodies lying side by side, apparently 
 dead, put her hand to her heart and fell over them. 
 
 The shot had been heard at the house and immedi- 
 ately there ensued a scene of terror and confusion at 
 the Hall. The servants soon found the three bodies. 
 
 The big tow T er bell of alarm w r as sounded and soon 
 the v/hole neighborhood was gathered at the Hall. 
 
 Dr. Graham was one of the first to arrive. He saw 
 at once Helen was dead. The sudden shock had killed 
 her. Robert was seriously, but he hoped not fatally, 
 wounded, while Lillian was unconscious, and for a 
 long time all efforts to restore her proved unavailing. 
 Then she fell into a stupor, alternating with delirium, 
 and for weeks, yea months, her life hung in the bal- 
 ance. Brain fever set in, the beautiful, luxuriant hair 
 had to be cut off and soon fell out, a soft, silky white 
 hair like that of an infant taking its place, giving Lil- 
 
JOY AND SORROW AT *HE HALL 105 
 
 lian a strange, weird beaty, very unlike her former 
 brilliant loveliness. 
 
 Robert slowly recovered from his wound and after 
 many weeks of weary waiting was able to watch by 
 Lillian's bedside, who sometimes in her delirium con- 
 versed with him in low, solemn tones as a visitant 
 from the other world. 
 
 As the months crept slowly by to the inmates of the 
 Hall, health and strength came slowly back to Lillian's 
 shattered constitution. She had missed Helen and 
 they had evaded her inquiries until they could evade 
 them no longer — then Dr. Graham as gently as pos- 
 sible broke the news to her. Her grief and self-re- 
 proach were pitiable. 
 
 "Oh, Robert, " she would say, in tones of anguish, 
 "I have been the cause of all your grief and sorrow. 
 I who so loved you and wanted to make you happy. 
 Why should I be a curse to those who love me ? It is 
 Walter Brunette who tried to kill you. He made his 
 threats against you and I would not tell you, because 
 I thought he would not dare to carry them out. He is 
 insane, Robert, and should be an inmate of an 
 asylum. 7 ' 
 
 The whole community had turned out en masse to 
 hunt for Robert Nelson's would-be assassin. Every- 
 body believed it was Walter Brunette for Robert Nel- 
 son had no other known enemy, but though the coun- 
 try was carefully scoured, and Cuckoo's Nest searched 
 from attic to cellar, every tenant 's house searched and 
 large rewards offered for the apprehension of the man 
 who fired the fatal shot, no clue could be obtained of 
 his whereabouts and the whole affair remained a mys- 
 tery. 
 
 It had been nearly a year since Robert and Lillian 
 were married. Christmas was near at hand. 
 
 Lillian's saduess seemed to increase as the usually 
 
106 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 happy season came on. Only last year she had been 
 so happy, and now dear Helen was gone. She seemed 
 never to have thought about her appearance ; did not 
 know that a silver crown, the proof of her wifely de- 
 votion, adorned her head, instead of the remains of 
 the dark hair which they had told her they cut off to 
 keep her head cool when it was so hot with fever. 
 
 One day she noticed for the first time all the mir- 
 rors had been removed from the room. She wondered 
 at this and asked herself if sickness and trouble had 
 made such ravages on her countenance they feared 
 the effect upon her. Then there seized upon her a 
 desire to see herself, to know the cause of such cau- 
 tion. With the usual pertinacity of an invalid the 
 desire grew upon her till she formed a plan to effect it. 
 She had seemed stronger for several days, had sat up 
 and even walked about her room. At her request they 
 all left her to go to dinner. As soon as they were 
 gone, she slowly made her way to the next room and 
 went to the mirror that reached from wall to noor. 
 She could not believe herself the person whose reflec- 
 tion stared at her with wild, astonished eyes. Could 
 it be, indeed, herself, so pale, so thin, with white hair 
 curling in a million soft ringlets upon her head? She 
 grew dizzy. Everything began to recede from view, 
 and she fell. 
 
 They found her in the room, unable to get back, sit- 
 ting on the floor in a limp, dazed condition. When 
 she recovered from, this shock, which greatly fright- 
 ened the loved ones, and somewhat retarded her re- 
 covery, she asked pathetically, looking up into Rob- 
 ert 9 b face, bending tenderly over her : 
 
 4 4 Dearest, can you ever love me with the silver sheen 
 on my head, the strange outcome of my fright when I 
 thought you dead? 'Tis no wonder, love, my hair 
 
JOY AND SORROW AT THE HALL 107 
 
 turned white for my life at that sad moment turned to 
 utter despair.'' 
 
 "I love you, my precious darling, better than I ever 
 did, if possible, for your devotion which you testified 
 by the penalty of pain and suffering you have borne 
 so patiently. My darling, my precious darling, you 
 are all the world to me and you are as lovely to me as 
 you were the night of the play at Moss Side, when your 
 radiant beauty broke down every barrier that had pre- 
 viously existed between us and made me as I have ever 
 been, your most devoted lover." 
 
 Auntie came to live at the Hall and Lillian slowly 
 came back to her former health and beauty, and 
 gradually the dark shadows lifted from the Hall. 
 
 Lillian never thought of Walter Brunette but with a 
 shudder that caused a cold chill to gather at her heart. 
 She was only happy when Robert was in her sight. 
 Auntie tried in vain to dislodge these anticipations 
 of coming evil. 
 
 i 1 Oh, Auntie," she would say with terror in her 
 beautiful eyes, "he is a lunatic at large and we are 
 never safe from his cruelty. The one idea that pos- 
 sesses him seems one of revenge for his plans being 
 thwarted. O, how I wish they could catch him and 
 confine him in an asylum before he brings any more 
 sorrow into our home." 
 
 Mrs. Stafford would say : 
 
 "I don't think he is insane, my dear, but revengeful. 
 His plans are too well laid to allow us to put so charit- 
 able a construction upon his deeds. ' ' 
 
 "But there is method in madness, dear Auntie, you 
 know ; we read of instances in which the insane have 
 outwitted those who opposed them. That cruel letter 
 assured me of the man's insanity, for surely no sane 
 man would have penned such wild words, such bitter 
 threats." 
 
108 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 JIM SHACK OP SHACKLETON. 
 
 As soon as Monsieur Devereux learned of the tragic 
 occurrence at the Hall, he went to New York and em- 
 ployed a noted detective to find out who had fired the 
 fatal shot and to bring him to justice. He offered 
 a goodly sum to the detective to undertake the case and 
 agreed to treble it if he was successful. 
 
 A few days after this visit, the loungers around the 
 depot of Melton saw a young man alight from the cars. 
 As he was the only passenger to get off that even- 
 ing he became the observed of all observers. He was 
 of middle height, rather stoutly built, was dressed in 
 a crash suit, that may have fitted him before it was 
 washed, but was rather tight now, and short enough 
 to display his home-knit hose at every step. His straw 
 hat of the fashion of three summers before and yel- 
 low as saffron crowned his head. His shoes were 
 coarse and too large for him. His colored shirt was 
 clean, but the front was almost obscured by a large 
 flaming red neck-tie. He had in one hand a well-used 
 valise and in the other a hickory cane, which he tossed 
 with quite an air. He walked with an awkward swag- 
 ger in the direction of the group of loungers, who 
 were eyeing him with some curiosity. 
 
 "Good evenin', gemmen," he said, as he approached. 
 "Warm day, ain't it?" and he proceeded to mop his 
 face with a large red bandanna handkerchief. 
 
 ' ' Do any of you gemmen know whar I can git some 
 work to do ? I am from up the country. I got a lit- 
 tle pale and peekish and work got scarce, so mam said 
 I had better try another place. Somebody told me 
 
JIM SHACK OF SHACKLETON 109 
 
 as how there was some big farms roun' here and 
 more 'n probble I could git work on some of 'em. ' ' 
 
 "What kind of work can you do?" asked the 
 agent, who at that moment appeared on the scene to 
 make the acquaintance of the singular looking stran- 
 ger. 
 
 6 ' Oh, any kind, sir. I am a rum hand at any kind 
 of work, but bein' as I was raised on a farm and bin 
 doin' farm work all my life, I'd ruther do that. No 
 man can't beat me plowin' and as fur hoe work I'm a 
 boss chopper and don't you furgit it." 
 
 "This is a scarce time of year to get work now. If 
 you can get it anywhere it would be at the Hall, Moss 
 Side or Cuckoo's Nest. They employ more hands 
 than any other farms around here. ' ' 
 
 With his head to one side and his lips half open the 
 stranger had listened. When the man had finished 
 his remarks, the stranger took from his pocket a small 
 blank book and a stub of a lead pencil, and said : 
 
 Mister, I'd like to git the names of them places, 
 * Eagle's Nest,' " he repeated, and was about to write 
 it when a laugh from the crowed arrested him. 
 
 ' * No, you 're wrong. It 's Cuckoo 's Nest. ' ' 
 
 "Well, I know'd it was some land of nest. If I was 
 gwine to name a place for a bird, I'm mighty born 
 shore it should be a big bird. What kind of Hall ? ' ' 
 
 "Randolph Hall." 
 
 "Ramsey Hall," he repeated, and was beginning 
 to write, when he was stopped by another outburst of 
 laughter from the crowd. 
 
 After getting that straight, on being told Moss Side, 
 he proceeded to write "Moss Rose" in a stiff awkward 
 hand as he had written the other names. 
 
 When again told of his mistake, he said impatiently : 
 
 "Shore thing, folks in that settlement had curious 
 names for their houses." 
 
110 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 On inquiring how he could reach the places men- 
 tioned, he was told he could hire a conveyance and go 
 to the little hamlet, Anston, three miles off, but if he 
 didn't mind walking there was a path through the 
 woods that cut off nearly a mile. 
 
 1 4 Mind walking! No, sir, I was raised on it, bin 
 walkin' ever since I could toddle. Much obleeged, 
 gemmen. I will do as much for you some day. If 
 you hear of anybody roun' here wantin' a first-rate 
 hand will you mention my name, Mr. Jim Shack of 
 Shaekleton? Good evenin'. It's gitten late and I 
 must be gone," and with his awkward swagger he 
 walked off, twisting his cane, of which amusement he 
 seemed very fond. 
 
 Every man in the group he left thought himself 
 called upon to comment on the manners and appear- 
 ance of the stranger, and "green-horn," "conceited 
 simpleton," "too green to burn," "perfect ignor- 
 amus," passed from lip to lip, accompanied by some 
 not very complimentary remark at which there was 
 a burst of hilarious laughter. The stranger 
 heard the laughter, and a smile of satisfaction 
 passed over the face that had seemed so dull and ex- 
 pressionless—indeed he seemed greatly amused at 
 something and when assured he was completely out of 
 hearing of the crowd, his amusement found vent in an 
 outburst of laughter equally as loud and hilarious. 
 
 Strangely, too, when free from observation the 
 swagger was changed to a quick, firm business-like 
 step. Busy with his own thoughts, the man was sur- 
 prised when the lights of Anston began to glimmer 
 in the distance. The walk of two miles seemed scarcely 
 a mile. Assuming his former awkward gait he ap- 
 proached a man as he entered the little village and 
 inquired where he could get a night's lodging. 
 
JIM SHACK OF SHACKLETON 111 
 
 "At John Dugger 's inn," was the reply, and he 
 pointed to a house close by. 
 
 John Dugger was sitting on his front porch. He 
 was a low, fat man, and the heat was rather oppres- 
 sive. He owned this two-story house and as he had no 
 family but his wife, who was a good cook and a hust- 
 ling, energetic woman, he thought to turn an honest 
 penny by accommodating the public. Then, too, John 
 loved money and w 7 asn't anxious to work for it, for he 
 loved ease as well as money. 
 
 It had been unusually dull even for the dull season 
 and when Mr. Jim Shack put in his appearance for 
 supper, lodging and breakfast, Mr. Dugger was very 
 polite and tried to make him feel at home. He gave 
 him one of his pleasantest rooms, told him supper was 
 just ready and seemed greatly to enjoy the stranger's 
 evident relish of the fare. 
 
 After supper the men repaired to the front porch 
 for a smoke. The stranger took from his pocket a 
 common corn-cob pipe with a reed stem stuck in it 
 and proceeded to fill it from a little tobacco pouch 
 that had been its companion in his pocket. Mr. Dug- 
 ger accepted some of his tobacco and after lighting 
 his pipe, and giving it a few puffs, declared it was 
 the best he had ever smoked. Then with his feet on 
 the railing, ensconced in an easy chair, between puffs 
 at his pipe, which became less frequent as he talked, 
 he replied thus to a question put by Mr. Shack : 
 
 4 4 Well, yes. I reckon you can get work around 
 here. I almost know you could find work at the Hall if 
 they were not so stirred up there. How stirred up, 
 you ask?" 
 
 "Well, some rascal shot the young Squire about two 
 weeks ago in his own grounds, while he was walking 
 and talking with his wife. The shot was intended 
 to kill and the doctors are uneasy about it, but hope 
 
112 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 to pull him through. His wife thinking he was dead, 
 when the blood spurted out of the wound all over her 
 white dress, fell down in a death-like swoon and is 
 now extremely low from the fright and shock. Then 
 the young Squire's sister, a sweet, delicate girl of 
 twenty, ran down to the summer-house, the place of 
 the tragedy, when she heard the shot, and seeing both 
 her brother and his wife lying dead as she supposed, 
 fell dead over their bodies from heart disease." 
 
 4 'Who fired the shot, you ask?" 
 
 4 'Ah! nobody knows, but everybody suspects. It's 
 a long story and might not interest you, a stranger. ' ' 
 
 6 ' I can smoke and listen as long as you wish to talk. 
 Its too warm to sleep, anyway," was the reply. 
 
 "Well," John Dugger began slowly, "you see Mrs. 
 Stafford that lives at Moss Side, one of the places you 
 have in your book, had an adopted daughter, a Miss 
 Lillian De Vere. She's part French, I think, and is 
 the loveliest lady I ever saw or dreamed of. The fact 
 is, I have never seen a picture that was half as pretty 
 as she is. Before I saw her and I heard men rave 
 over her beauty, I thought it was overrated, but, man, 
 if I were to sit here all night and try to tell you how 
 beautiful she is, you would be surprised at her loveli- 
 ness, when you saw her, and think I hadn't half de- 
 scribed her. My wife has a lovely rose in her gar- 
 den, a choice specimen. I could never give you an 
 idea of its beauty unless you saw it, so with Miss De 
 Vere. She has the prettiest eyes, the prettiest mouth, 
 the p&ettiest hair, the prettiest features, the pret- 
 tiest smile and the prettrest manners in the world.. 
 
 " Well, her manners i& one thing that makes her so 
 lovely. She is as kind, as gracious, as polite to the 
 lowest and poorest as to the highest &nd richest. Well, 
 she was grown when Mrs. Stafford brought her to 
 Moss Side to live— eighteen, I believe. Walter Bru- 
 
JIM SHACK OF SHACKLETON 113 
 
 nette, the only son and heir to that other place you 
 have in your book, 'Cuckoo's Nest/ a fine old place on 
 the river, saw her and fell desperately in love at first 
 sight. Yes, desperately is the word that tells it ex- 
 actly. Tho' he was engaged to his cousin and ex- 
 pected to marry her soon, he began courting Miss De 
 Vere in earnest. If she could only have loved him, 
 all would have gone well. It's a wonder she didn't. 
 Pew women could have resisted his many attractions. 
 Just as Lillian De Vere was the loveliest girl I ever 
 saw, so Walter Brunette was the handsomest man I 
 ever laid my eyes on. On account of his manly, 
 blond beauty, his magnificent figure, his faultless taste 
 in dress and his proud, overbearing manners, he went 
 by the name, among men at least, of the 'young 
 prince/ It would have been a remarkaably fine-look- 
 ing couple, as everybody who saw them together re- 
 marked. Sometimes he would drive her out in his 
 elegant turn-out and finest pair of bays in this whole 
 country and everybody would run to the windows and 
 doors and watch them out of sight. Well, it seems 
 she didn't fancy the young prince, tho' he was so 
 handsome, and rich besides. She fancied the young 
 Squire of the Hall and Walter Brunette was set back 
 for the first time, I suppose, in his life. He had al- 
 ways had his own way about everything from a child 
 up and he made up his mind he wouldn't yield the 
 coveted prize without a struggle. Does my story tire 
 you?" John asked of the stranger, who sat puffing 
 away at his pipe, gazing before him in an absent sort 
 of way. John loved to talk better than anything in 
 the world to an interested listener, and he wanted 
 to know if this one was interested. 
 
 The young man seemed to come to himself* as it 
 were, and replied at once: 
 
 "No, indeed, sir. I am not tired. It sounds like 
 
114 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 a story from a story-book, and I love nothing in the 
 world better." 
 
 John was satisfied and changing his position a little, 
 he continued : 
 
 4 'Well, 'tis just like a story you read, only this is 
 every word true. Well, as I was saying, Brunette 
 determined to have his sweetheart anyway, whether 
 she wanted him or not, so what do you reckon he did? 
 Why one evening he came here all dressed in a white 
 duck suit, riding his fine black riding horse, Pluto. 
 It was a very warm evening. A storm was coming 
 up, one of the worst ever known around here. I saw 
 Brunette at the postoffice and he had never looked 
 so well. He always looked as if he had just stepped 
 out of a band-box, as the old saying is. Now it hap- 
 pened Mrs. Stafford wanted a letter posted and Miss 
 Lillian came to post it, riding on a favorite horse her 
 aunt had given her. She was a fearless and graceful 
 rider and was not afraid to go alone a short distance. 
 That evening, on her way here, the girths of her sad- 
 dle broke, and she came here and got me to fix it, and 
 looked so sweet, and thanked me so nicely, I felt glad 
 of the opportunity to help her. Well, that evening 
 Walter Brunette saw her here and rode out before her, 
 and while the storm was raging and her scared horse 
 was dashing homeward, he put himself in the road 
 and so frightened the animal, he bounded into the 
 woods. She managed to slide off and made her way 
 to an old deserted building in the woods. There Wal- 
 ter Brunette found her and tried at the point of his 
 pistol to make her consent to marry him that night." 
 
 At these last words Mr. Shack almost jumped from 
 his seat, and said with eager questioning eyes : 
 
 "You don't say so! Did he really do that? Did 
 the pretty girl say so?" 
 
 John Dugger, who had been startled by the young 
 
JIM SHACK OF SHACKLBTON llfi 
 
 man's manner, so greatly in contrast with his former 
 quiet interest in his story, soon recovered himself, and 
 replied : 
 
 "Certainly, she said so, and just when the time he 
 had allowed her to decide was up, Robert Nelson and 
 some men found her crouched in a corner and Walter 
 standing near her with his watch in one hand and pis- 
 tol in the other. As Nelson was the first to enter, 
 Brunette shot him and escaped. It turned out not to 
 be a very serious affair. The young Squire was car- 
 ried to Moss Side and soon got well." 
 
 "And that villain, what became of him?" asked 
 Mr. Shack, with deepest interest. 
 
 "Ah, no one knows. Men searched everywhere for 
 him but he was nowhere to be found. A letter was 
 written to him warning him against ever being seen 
 in this neighborhood again. Lillian was married about 
 six months ago to Squire Nelson and nothing has been 
 seen of the man since, but everybody believes he did 
 that terrible shooting and everybody is anxious to 
 have him brought to justice, but you can't do any- 
 thing unless you find him, and you can't find him if 
 he disappears as completely as if the earth had 
 opened and swallowed him up. I went with the men 
 to Cuckoo's Nest the night after the shooting was, at 
 dark. We ransacked the house from top to bottom, 
 looked into every closet and wardrobe and into every 
 nook and corner, while squads of men went in every 
 other direction, but nothing has been seen or heard 
 from him. We heard detectives would be employed 
 to work up the case, but we haven't seen any yet 
 Well, now I have told you the state of affairs at the 
 Hall, you can use your own judgment about going 
 there to see about work. Bob Johnson, the overseer, 
 
116 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 who has charge of things now the Squire is sick, may 
 give you work. You can but try." 
 
 ' ' I shall try, ' ' was the quiet answer. 
 
 The next morning, after an early breakfast, Mr. 
 Shack departed for the Hall, telling Mr. Dugger if he 
 failed to get work he would be back to dinner, or if 
 he decided to go to Moss Side, would be back to sup- 
 per. 
 
 As Mr. Dugger watched him set out with his swag- 
 ger and cane, a perplexed look came mto his eyes, and 
 he said to himself : 
 
 1 4 That fellow looks common and ignorant, but it's 
 my opinion he's sharper than he seems to be." 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Shack took the woods, rather than 
 the road, and walked so briskly he soon found himself 
 at the Hall. 
 
 Bob Johnson saw him approach and met him. After 
 the usual greeting in his uncouth, awkward way, Mr. 
 Shack asked to see the head man of the "establish- 
 ment." 
 
 "The young Squire is the boss of course, but he 
 is wounded, as I doubt not you have heard, and don't 
 see anybody but the doctors and trained nurse, and 
 his wife is as low as she can be, so if you have any 
 business, I can attend to it." 
 
 "No, sir," was the firm answer, "I want to see Mrs. 
 Stafford, if I couldn't see noboody else." 
 
 Bob Johnson eyed the stranger quizzically. 
 
 "What could that specimen of humanity want to 
 see Mrs. Stafford for? Was he one of Brunette's ac- 
 complices, trying to get an entrance to the Hall to 
 work greater mischief I If so he would be foiled, ' ' so 
 he said, rather roughly. 
 
 "You can't see her. She rarely leaves Miss Lil- 
 lian's room, tho' they have a nurse for her, too." 
 
JIM SHACK OP SHACKLETON 111 
 
 Jim Shack fumbled in his pocket and drew out a 
 letter directed in a bold hand to Mrs. Stafford. 
 
 ' ' Take this to her and see what she says." 
 
 Bob Johnson took the letter, examined it carefully, 
 and carried it himself to Mrs. Stafford, who as soon 
 as she read it directed the man to be shown into the 
 library, where she was closeted with him for more 
 than an hour. With a grin of satisfaction, he passed 
 Johnson on his way out of the grounds and said: 
 
 "You see that letter opened the door—letters from 
 big folks always does." 
 
 With a light laugh Bob replied: 
 
 ' ' Somebody else besides you has to write them if 
 they do." Mr. Shack smiled somewhat curiously, 
 bowed stiffly and walked on. He reached the inn in 
 good time for dinner, said he could secure no place at 
 the Hall nor at Moss Side, as he had seen Mrs. Staf- 
 ford and would that evening try Cuckoo's Nest, hop- 
 ing to be more successful. 
 
 "I jest feel this river air will do me good. Mam 
 said I mustn't come back till I got some color in my 
 face, and I ain't gwine back till thin if I can help it." 
 
118 LILLIAN DbVERE 
 
 I CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 JIM SHACK AT CUCKOO 'S NEST. 
 
 That evening John Dugger rowed Mr. Shack across 
 the river, which made a bend around Anston. After a 
 walk of half a mile he struck into the road that led 
 to Melton, Cuckoo's Nest was two miles from both 
 Anston and Melton. Mr. Shack took the woods when 
 he saw anybody approaching and resumed the road 
 when free from observation. About three o'clock he 
 reached his destination. Cuckoo's Nest, in its fine 
 elevated position, was indeed a stately mansion, and 
 looked very attractive, crowned with rich summer 
 sunlight. 
 
 "A nice old place," Mr. Shack remarked mentally, 
 "and I must stay here awhile on some terms or other." 
 As he went up the wide walk, the gravel crunching 
 under his coarse shoes and his cane assisting his steps 
 as if he were old and feeble, he kept a sharp lookout 
 for a dog that might try to intercept him, but as he 
 neared the house and none appeared he gained confi- 
 dence and was about to enter the flower-garden, the 
 principal walk of which led up to one of the many 
 porches by which the house was surrounded, when he 
 caught sight of a man in the next yard. With a 
 halloo that startled his hearer, he advanced, and the 
 man, whom he knew by Mr. Dugger 's description to 
 be Joe Dawson, came to meet him. He saluted Joe 
 with a stiff bow and an extended hand and said his 
 name was Mr. Jim Shack of Shackleton; that he was 
 a farm hand in search of work, and would be "much 
 obliged" if he would give him something to do. Joe 
 Dawson eyed him keenly with a pair of steel-gray eyes 
 
JIM SHACK AT CUCKOO'S NEST 119 
 
 that looked as if they were searching him through, 
 but Mr. Shack bore his scrutiny with a dull, stolid in- 
 difference that would have deceived a man who knew 
 more of men and the world than did the capable and 
 efficient manager of Cuckoo's Nest. When asked what 
 kind of work he could do, he replied as to the agent 
 at Melton. 
 
 "I am willing to work, I am," he said, with much 
 gesticulation to enforce his words. "I don't want to 
 eat no man's bread and meat and not yearn it, I don't, 
 and if you'll jest gimme a job I'll show you." Now 
 it happened that Joe Dawson did need an extra hand 
 for two or three weeks, so he and Mr. Shack soon came 
 to terms and Jim set in at once. As the young man 
 made good his word that he could work, the manager's 
 suspicions, if he had any, were lulled and Mr. Shack 
 had no reason to complain of his employer, but if he 
 sometimes asked Mr. Dawson even very indifferent 
 questions, that man's replies were so short and un- 
 satisfactory he was not encouraged to proceed. He 
 had been at Cuckoo's Nest three weeks and had found 
 out absolutely nothing more of the inmates than he 
 knew after the first day. Joe's mother was the house- 
 keeper and with a younger son lived in a house very 
 near the main residence. Joe lived several hundred 
 yards off, and as Mr. Shack had no business at the 
 "gret house," as he called it, he had been no nearer 
 it than the first morning when he halted outside the 
 gate of the flower-garden at sight of Joe. One morn- 
 ing, however, the elder Mrs. Dawson's churn failed 
 to work as usual, and as her other son couldn't fix it, 
 she sent for Joe. As Joe was very busy, he sent Mr. 
 Shack, who very willingly undertook the job and made 
 a success of it, but it took much longer to finish it 
 than it need have done. Jim was talking to the house- 
 keeper. He had expressed great wonder at the size 
 
120 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEEE 
 
 and "fineness" of the building and asked where the 
 master and mistress were. Mrs. Dawson told him the 
 mistress was off on a visit and the young master was 
 traveling in Egypt. 
 
 "Egypt!" the young man repeated in astonish- 
 ment. "Whar is that?" 
 
 " 'Cross the ocean, Joe says, and Joe knows, for he 
 is well educated or he couldn't 'tend to all the busi- 
 ness here all right like he does. Joe says it's where 
 Moses was put in the basket of bulrushes." 
 
 "Land sakes!" Mr. Shack exclaimed. "Does he 
 come home often?" 
 
 "Well, not regular. Sometimes it's two years or 
 two months or two weeks between his visits." 
 
 "Don't his ma fret over his being gone so much?" 
 Jim asked, seemingly very intent on adjusting a piece 
 of the churn-dasher. 
 
 "Yes, she does sometimes, but you see he comes 
 back from Egypt to see her. He loves his ma right 
 well and she loves him better than anybody on earth," 
 was the reply. 
 
 "Well, if they love one another so good, why don't 
 they come to this fine place and live together ? Seems 
 that would be the sensible thing to do." 
 
 "Well, 'cause Mr. Walter loves to travel 'round, 
 and Miss Fannie don't love to stay here by herself. 
 She stays with her brother and his daughter, the only 
 folks she's got 'cept her son." 
 
 "Whar does they live?" 
 
 "I don't know; somewhere up the country." 
 
 "Don't she ever write to you about the business 
 here?" 
 
 "No; I can't write, but Joe can, and he 'tends to 
 all the business." 
 
 "They pays him well, don't they?" 
 
JIM SHACK AT CUCKOO'S NEST 121 
 
 "Yes, they pays everybody well that works for 
 'em." 
 
 "This is the finest place 'round here, ain't it? Shore 
 thar can't be no finer anywhar. I'd feel like I was in 
 heaven to live in such a place as this. ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Dawson smiled proudly. She had been at the 
 place so long and loved it so well she was almost as 
 much gratified as if the place had been her own. 
 
 "To my notion it's the prettiest place 'round here, 
 but some people think the Hall is the finest. I reckon 
 you've seen that great big house on the tother side of 
 the river, way up on a hill?" 
 
 Jim didn't look up, but nodded, as he had his mouth 
 full of tacks. 
 
 "But sakes alive, I wouldn't live thar if they was 
 to give it to me, 'cause its ha'nted." 
 
 "What!" Jim looked up so suddenly as to over- 
 turn all his tacks and a look of terror crept over his 
 face. "You don't tell me! I'm mortal 'fraid of 
 ha'nts. What kind of ha'nt lives over thar?" 
 
 The housekeeper had forgotten her churn and her 
 usual caution in the very unusual chance to get some 
 one to talk to. Visitors were very rare and the few 
 that came saw only Joe. Surely there couldn't be any 
 harm in talking to this young stranger that Joe had 
 sent up there, so she spread out her apron smoothly 
 with both hands and gave herself up to the enjoy- 
 ment of the occasion, gratified to be able to tell a 
 story that she knew would surprise and interest her 
 listener. 
 
 "Well, it's the old squire's ghost that ha'nts the 
 place. He built the Hall a mighty long time ago and 
 didn't 'bleve in folks having but one child, so if any 
 of his folks has more'n one child, he jest comes and 
 blows his breath on 'em and they dies right straight. 
 
122 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 He blowed his breath on one 'bout two weeks ago and 
 she died right off." 
 
 "You don't say so! Was it a little baby, the child 
 of the man that lives thar now?" 
 
 "No, 'twas his sister. He is married, though, and 
 everybody said she'd have trouble when she married 
 him, and she's got it, too, shore's you're born." 
 
 "What trouble? 'Cause his sister died?" 
 
 "No, that ain't all. Somebody shot her husband 
 and he's mighty bad off, and she's 'bout to die, I have 
 heard, but we folks over on this side of the river don't 
 know what's goin' on over t'other side hardly, more'n 
 'twas across the ocean." 
 
 Jim looked the picture of amazement and said : 
 
 "You don't tell me somebody shot the man ? What 
 did they shoot him for ? What had he done ? ' ' 
 
 "Nobody knows who shot him. We heard they was 
 goin' to pay lots of money to find out. But Joe says 
 they had better save that money to pay off the Hall 
 that's in debt, for they'll never find the man that fired 
 that shot." 
 
 i i What makes you think so ? He 's run off to Egypt, 
 ain't he?" 
 
 Mrs. Dawson looked at Jim sharply and said : 
 
 "What makes you think he's gone to Egypt?" 
 
 Jim looked up into her flushed face with his usual 
 dull expression and said: 
 
 " 'Cause you say that's a long ways off, and to be 
 shore he's gone fur away if he's gone whar nobody 
 can find him. Maybe he's hid whar Moses was when 
 the Queen of Sheba found him. But what made him 
 shoot him, anyhow? Had he done him any harm?" 
 
 "I don't know nothin' 'bout that business. Joe 
 says as how a man wants to live at the Hall and if the 
 young Squire was to die he'd shore buy it, so it 
 mought have been him." 
 
JIM SHACK AT CUCKOO'S NEST 123 
 
 "By the way, I 'speet that's the man the man at the 
 depo was talkin' 'bout t'other day. He said the man 
 that shot the young Squire used to love his wife and 
 wa'nt willin' to give her up, tho' she was married. I 
 think that's quare myself. I ain't goin' to love no 
 man's wife but my own. Did you ever hear any talk 
 of that?" 
 
 The housekeeper tossed her head up and said fierce- 
 ly: "Some fool said that. Don't you listen at no 
 such foolishness. That young woman is born to 
 trouble, 'cause she married the young Squire with the 
 old Squire's curse on the place. She had no business 
 marryin' him nohow." 
 
 "But, my good lady, she must have loved him, and 
 you ought to go over and see her and try to cheer her 
 up in her sickness." 
 
 The housekeeper pursed up her mouth and said : 
 
 "I have lived here ten year and I never have been 
 to the Hall yet, and I never expects to go, either." 
 
 "Well, I don't call that neighborly. Mam visits 
 everybody in the neighborhood that's sick. Seems its 
 your duty to go to see the young Mrs. Squire and help 
 wait on her." 
 
 "No, sir!" the housekeeper answered very firmly. 
 "Our families don't visit." 
 
 "Don't visit? Now that's bad. I s'pose you're 
 mad with each other, and our old preacher says that 's 
 wrong. He'd ride twenty-five miles any day to get 
 people right that's mad with each other. He says they 
 may manage to live here that way, but 'twont do for 
 the dying day." 
 
 Jim uttered these words very solemnly and the old 
 housekeeper seemed impressed and said slowly: 
 
 "Well, nobody's 'zactly mad, but they don't visit. 
 I have my business to 'tend to and Mrs. Coles, the 
 
124 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 housekeeper at the Hall, don't visit me, so I don't 
 'spect to bother her." 
 
 By this time the churn was fixed and as Jim could 
 find no pretext for delay and knew he had learned 
 about all he could, he said : 
 
 "Well, I think your churn will do all right now, 
 but if it gits outen fix agin, let me know. 7 ' Then very 
 suddenly he asked: "When was the young master 
 home last?" 
 
 The question created the confusion he expected. 
 The housekeeper hesitated a moment; then looking 
 very confused, stammered out, "It's a long time, man. 
 Didn't I tell you he was in Egypt?" 
 
 "Well, I know," Jim replied carelessly, "but in 
 these days folks can travel so fast it don 't take no time 
 to come from Egypt — not more'n a day or two. When 
 he comes, tell him I likes his place mightily and would 
 like to get a good place here for always." Mrs. Daw- 
 son laughed. 
 
 "Why, man, the master don't have nothin' to do 
 with that. Joe is the man to give you the place." 
 
 "Is he? Well, I have to see him, then," and took 
 his leave, saying to himself : "I have been here three 
 weeks and worked like a dog and haven 't learned any- 
 thing of any advantage yet. That Joe Dawson is a 
 sharp one, sure. You can't pump a thing out of him. 
 I must see who he writes to. I've tried hard, but he 
 has kept his own secret thus far. ' ' 
 
 Chance favored him. A few days after Joe hurt 
 his right hand. It was the busiest time of the year. 
 The crops were beginning to ripen and must be har- 
 vested and disposed of in order to avoid loss and rush. 
 Joe was greatly troubled about it. He would try to 
 attend to his business as usual, but the pain was often 
 too great for him, though he bore it like a martyr. In 
 this emergency he put Jim at the head of affairs, and 
 
JIM SHACK AT CUCKOO'S NEST 125 
 
 as day by day went by, yielded more and more to that 
 young man's judgment. One day tie asked: 
 " Jim, can you write ?" 
 
 ' 'Oh, yes," Jim replied. "My schoolmaster said I 
 beat all the other scholars writin' when I was goin' to 
 school. ' ' 
 
 "Will you write a letter for me?" 
 
 "Certainly, if you'll tell me jest what to put in it. 
 I never was good at thinkin' up things to put in a 
 letter." 
 
 "I will tell you just what to put in it. It's about 
 that hay and millet we've been shipping. I want our 
 business men to know all about it, so we can keep it 
 straight. ' ' 
 
 Jim was disappointed, but he wrote the letter as 
 dictated, directed it to "Mason and Mann," and 
 posted it himself after taking full directions. On his 
 return from the postoffi.ee, he told Joe he had gotten a 
 letter recalling him home at once. Joe urged him in 
 vain to stay until his hand got well, offering to double 
 his wages, but Jim said they needed him bad at home 
 or they wouldn't have called him from such a good 
 place. So he left the next morning. If Joe Dawson, 
 who prided himself upon his sharpness and caution, 
 had/had any suspicion that the man whom he had em- 
 ployed as a farm laborer and who had boarded at his 
 own table and slept in his own house was one of New 
 York's most famous detectives, who in that disguise 
 had endeavored to learn something by means of which 
 he could convict his employer of the cowardly crime 
 at the Hall, he would certainly not have parted with 
 him so unwillingly. But so it was, as our reader has 
 doubtless guessed. Captain Philip Agnew, as he 
 swung his old valise and cane on his way to Anston, 
 
126 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 gave Joe credit for all the sharpness and caution he 
 thought himself to possess. 
 
 "I have worked hard a whole month, worn this old 
 disguise and seemed as dull as an idiot, and all to no 
 purpose, unless I can manage to get in at Mason and 
 Mann's. I may be able to learn something there. That 
 tellow, if he did fire that shot, certainly put out every 
 track behind him. I will make a confidant of Dugger. 
 I think he more than suspects me now, and 111 get 
 him to help me all he can down here — keep a sharp 
 lookout on Cuckoo's Nest." 
 
 John Dugger was accordingly taken in Captain Ag- 
 new's secret service, and if perseverance, sharpness 
 and cheek could have effected anything in the matter, 
 he would have been of great aid, but there seemed 
 absolutely nothing for any one to learn about the af- 
 fair. There were no tell-tale* marks, no hitch in the 
 plot, nothing to help the attempted murder out, but 
 everything to keep it in. 
 
/ 
 
 GEORGE DAVISON— PETE NEAL 127 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 GEORGE DAVISON — PETE NEAL. 
 
 Mr. Mason, senior partner of the well-known law 
 firm, Mason and Mann, sat at his desk in his private 
 office very busy, very warm and very much flurried 
 and worried at the array of business that confronted 
 him. Mr. Mann was on an important case that would 
 take a week longer to finish, and one of his most faith- 
 ful and reliable clerks was at home threatened with 
 typhoid fever. Mr. Mason was a short, stout man, 
 with a red face, and was not very patient naturally. 
 The amount of business he had on his hands at that 
 time did not tend to increase that virtue. He had 
 stopped to cool off a moment, when a clerk appeared 
 with, "A young man to see you, sir." 
 
 "Who is it?" inquired the senior. 
 
 "Don't know, sir." 
 
 "Send him in." Mr. Mason adjusted his glasses 
 and was prepared to greet the newcomer, who soon 
 put in an appearance. He was a dapper young man, 
 with fair skin, blue eyes and light hair, dressed very 
 neatly, and seemed quite at his ease as he approached 
 Mr. Mason, and after the usual greetings, asked the 
 lawyer for work in his office. 
 
 "Have you ever done any office work?" was the 
 first question. 
 
 "Yes, sir," was the answer; "some, but not very 
 much. I wouldn't expect very much salary until I 
 learned to please you." 
 
 Mr. Mason was eyeing him steadily and thinking 
 rapidly. 
 
 "Let me see what kind of a hand you write," and 
 
128 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 he pushed pen, ink and paper to the young man, who 
 wrote "George Davison, of New York," in a firm, 
 legible hand. 
 
 "That's your name, I suppose." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "I will employ you for a day or two, and if you 
 suit me, may employ you permanently. Can you go to 
 work at once?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; this evening if you wish." 
 
 Mr. Mason did wish, and soon George Davison was 
 busy at work in the senior's office. At the end of the 
 week Mr. Mann returned and the clerk, apparently too 
 busy at work to be cognizant of anything going on 
 around him, never missed a word that was uttered in 
 his hearing. One day he gave a little start as Mr. Ma- 
 son asked: 
 
 ' ' Has Brunette been heard from yet ? ' ' 
 
 "No," was the answer, "he has made good his es- 
 cape. I heard detectives had been engaged to work 
 on the case, but I suppose nothing has been accom- 
 plished." 
 
 "By the way, his mother's remittance must be sent 
 to her tomorrow. It is due. Don't let me forget it." 
 The next morning Mr. Mann said : 
 
 "Be sure to send Mrs. Lemoine's remittance today." 
 
 ' 1 Lemoine ! Lemoine ! ' ' the clerk repeated mentally, 
 and when a short time after the senior handed him a 
 number of letters to post and he saw the name "Mrs. 
 Fannie Lemoine, Brownley," he smiled and said to 
 himself: "She is going under an asumed name. I 
 must visit Brownley at once," and when the next day 
 the young man, who did not have the threatened fever, 
 returned and Mr. Davison was discharged, he seemed 
 pleased rather than disappointed, and was soon on his 
 way to Brownley. At the last station before reach- 
 ing that little town, he went into a hotel, and in a few 
 
GEORGE DAVISON— PETE NEAL 129 
 
 minutes came out dressed as Jim Shack had been the 
 first evening of our acquaintance with him. It was 
 nearly sunset when he reached Brownley. He saw 
 an old man at work in a field nearby, and immediately 
 sought him and asked him if he knew of any place 
 where he could get work. 
 
 ' 1 Isn't there a Mr. Brown who lives near here and 
 don't you reckon I can get work there?" 
 
 ' 6 Yes, ' ' was the reply, 6 ' there is a man by that name 
 who lives three miles from here. His folks were some 
 of the settlers of this place and Mr. Brown owns some 
 of the best paying property here. I don't know 
 whether he can give you work or not." 
 
 "Ain't he got a sister who stays with him?" 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Lemoine." 
 
 "Does her son, Mr. Walter Brunette, ever come to 
 see her?" 
 
 "He used to come to see Miss Evelyn Brown, his 
 cousin. Everybody said he was going to marry his 
 cousin, but I haven't heard anything about it lately." 
 
 "Did you ever see him? What kind of a looking 
 man was he?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I have seen him often. Well, he was 
 about the cleverest-looking man I ever saw — was fair 
 as a lady and actually had pink cheeks and light, silky 
 hair and mustache." Pete Neal secured board and 
 lodging with Mr. Sam Rudd that night in his little 
 shanty, and after an early walk presented himself at 
 Ashleigh, ' ' the Brown residence, for work, which, as 
 it was the busy season, he readily obtained. While 
 he appeared careless and sluggish when not at work, 
 nothing escaped him. With seeming utter indiffer- 
 ence he questioned his fellow laborers, but found out 
 nothing; indeed, after a month's work he knew no 
 more of the case than what John Dugger and Mrs. 
 Stafford had told him at the beginning of his attempt 
 
130 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 to bring to justice the man who had caused the trouble 
 at the Hall. During Captain Agnew's stay at "Ash- 
 leigh" as Pete Neal Mr. Brown had been taken very 
 sick, and "Pete Neal," who represented himself as a 
 good nurse, was installed at his bedside. He had 
 heard the old gentleman was at times delirious and 
 had hoped to learn something by that means. One 
 night as he sat alone watching the sick man, who was 
 unusually restless and feverish, "Pete" heard him 
 mutter, "Walter." He bent his ear close to catch 
 every word, and slowly the words came out: "Wal- 
 ter, Walter, you have broken your mother's heart, 
 Evelyn's heart — all for the sake of a pretty face. And 
 we were all so fond of you, so proud of you, and hoped 
 such great things for you. 9 9 With a sigh he turned on 
 his couch, and "Pete," bending over him, asked in a 
 whisper : 
 
 "Where is Walter?" 
 
 "Walter is gone far away, and we will never see him 
 again. Poor Walter, mad with love. It is like our 
 race to love till death." 
 
 Captain Philip Agnew returned to New York, a 
 sadder but not a wiser man. For the first time since 
 he entered on his career as a detective he had utterly 
 failed. If he had known the fine-looking Mr. Rogers, 
 with jet black hair and full black beard and gold 
 glasses, who visited Miss Evelyn while he was working 
 at Ashleigh, was no other than the man he was seek- 
 ing, he would have been even more disgusted with 
 himself for his lack of penetration and known he had 
 in Walter Brunette a ' 6 f oeman worthy of his steel, ' ? a 
 man equal to himself in diplomacy. He had hoped to 
 hear something from John Dugger — perhaps some 
 clew that would give him encouragement for a fresh 
 start, but though John Dugger, incited by the prof- 
 fered reward, had made good use of all the tact and 
 
GEORGE DAVISON— PETE NEAL 131 
 
 ingenuity of which he was master, though he had 
 made frequent visits to Cuckoo's Nest for the vege- 
 tables and poultry to supply his larder, because he told 
 Joe Dawson he found them so much more satisfactory 
 than elsewhere, though he had praised Joe's farming, 
 complimented his wife's industry and his children *• 
 beauty and brightness, and had told the housekeeper 
 his wife wouldn't have any butter but hers after he 
 had bought the first pound from her, though he had 
 made good use of his eyes and ears on all occasions, 
 and though he had fished from early morn to late 
 night near the little path that led from the river to 
 Cuckoo's Nest, yet he had been able to learn abso- 
 lutely nothing that could in any way solve the mya- 
 tery that attended the shooting at the Hall. As time 
 passed on and both Robert and Lillian recovered from 
 the effects of the tragedy the excitement subsided and 
 the community settled down to its usual quiet. 
 
132 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Robert's disappearance. 
 
 More than a year went by, bringing in its train of 
 months both joy and sorrow at the Hall. A beautiful 
 bright boy had been born to Robert and Lillian, but 
 ere three months had passed it winged its flight to the 
 loving Heavenly Father, who said, 6 6 Suffer little chil- 
 dren to come unto me, ' ' and while the hearts and home 
 of the loved ones were made sadder, heaven became 
 dearer for the angel hands that beckoned them up- 
 ward. Lillian had recovered from the sorrows that 
 had fallen so fast and heavily upon her. Of a natur- 
 ally bright, buoyant temperament, as she recovered 
 her health she became hopeful and cheerful. While 
 she cherished Helen's memory and while the little 
 grave in which her fondest hopes had been buried cast 
 ever a shadow over her mother-heart which she knew 
 would never lift in this life, yet for the sake of her 
 husband and auntie, who depended so much on her for 
 their happiness, she strove not to dwell upon the 
 clouds of the past but endeavored to look forward to 
 a happy future witn those she loved so fondly. Those 
 who had known her formerly saw but one effect that 
 followed her previous troubles — that was an extreme 
 nervousness and restlessness when Robert was out of 
 her sight. She seemed constantly anticipating some 
 impending evil which Robert's presence alone could 
 avert. In vain Robert and Mrs. Stafford reasoned 
 against it. She would laugh at her fears as absurd 
 and call herself silly and childish when Robert was 
 safe at home with her, but with his absence her fore- 
 bodings returned. At her request he never went to 
 
ROBERT'S DISAPPEARANCE 133 
 
 the city without taking some one with him. As he 
 greatly appreciated the love which induced this feel- 
 ing for him on Lillian 's part, he never left her unless 
 it was unavoidable. In the early fall Eobert had been 
 summoned to Uncle Henri's bedside. Aunt Estelle 
 had died the previous year and now her husband was 
 soon to follow her. Robert reached his uncle a few 
 days before his death. Monsieur Devereux bequeathed 
 his nephew half his large fortune, which had enabled 
 Robert to pay what he owned on his home, and for the 
 first time in his life he felt free from the oppression 
 of debt. Monsieur Devereux had offered to give Rob- 
 ert all his fortune if he would assume the name of 
 Robert Henri Devereux. The monsieur was the last 
 of his race, of which he was very proud, and he was 
 anxious to perpetuate it, but Robert was as proud 
 of his name and firmly declined to sell it even for so 
 large a price. So the half of the estate went to Aunt 
 Estelle 's relatives in France. One day in the late 
 fall he found it necessary to go to the city to attend 
 to some business. At the last moment the wife of 
 the tenant who was to go with him to Melton and 
 return with him that night was taken sick, and, aa 
 there was no time to make other arrangements, Robert 
 went off alone. Lillian did not know of this, but as 
 usual she was restless and uneasy all day. As time 
 for his return approached she seemed more quiet. A 
 bright smile of expectancy shone on her countenance 
 as she lovingly prepared for her husband's return. 
 Slowly to the beloved wife the hours crept by. Five 
 o'clock the train came. She listened for the station 
 blow, but it had begun to rain and the wind blew so 
 hard she could not hear it. She allowed one hour for 
 the drive. Surely he would be at home by that time. 
 How she lingered over the tea-table, placing his favor- 
 ite flowtm near him that he might enjoy their beauty 
 
134 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 and fragrance. How glad she was she had thought 
 of having his favorite dishes. She wondered if he 
 was prepared for the rain if it should increase. She 
 and Auntie talked together of how he would say he 
 was so glad to be at home again. Six o'clock arrived, 
 still the loved one came not. Her suspense became 
 intolerable. In vain Auntie tried to quiet her by sug- 
 gesting that the train might be late or that Eobert had 
 missed the train. As the minutes passed her nervous- 
 ness became extreme. She called William, the butler, 
 and bade him take the swiftest horse and ride to Mel- 
 ton for news of her husband. Up and down the long 
 hall she paced, her hands clasped in mute agony and 
 her face colorless almost as marble as she murmured, 
 'Oh, my beloved, will you never come again? Come 
 to your Lillian, whose life will be over if^any cruel 
 fate has taken you from her." William came back 
 after an almost incredibly short time with the ago- 
 nizing news that Eobert could not be found. He re- 
 ported that as he was riding rapidly past Lover's 
 Leap the neighing of a horse in the woods attracted 
 his attention. He alighted and soon found Mr. Nel- 
 son's horse tied to a tree and his buggy hidden behind 
 a clump of bushes not far from the roadside. On this 
 discovery he went as fast as possible to Melton and 
 was told there that Mr. Nelson had arrived on the 
 train about dark and had set off immediately for 
 home. Men from Melton returned with William to 
 Lover's Leap and soon found by the light of lanterns 
 two pairs of foot-prints in the moist sand in the road 
 at the foot of the bluff and evident signs of a struggle. 
 The foot-steps were traced to the top of the precipice, 
 where a desperate scuffle seemed to have ensued, then 
 all signs were lost. There were no returning foot- 
 prints, though the men sought carefully for them. It 
 was surmised that in the struggle both men must 
 
ROBERT'S DISAPPEARANCE 135 
 
 have fallen over the steep cliff and been drowned. In 
 the meantime William had returned to the Hall with 
 the sad intelligence of his master's disappearance and 
 the towerbell was rung violently and neighbors has- 
 tened to the Hall and set out in every direction to 
 search for the young Squire, but nothing was founc 
 to tell of his fate but the tell-tale foot-prints on the 
 bluff. They but plainly told the sad story. The cur- 
 rent of the river was very swift at the foot of the 
 bluff, and if he was thrown over violently he must 
 have been drowned before he could recover himself. 
 Robert was an expert swimmer and some thought he 
 might have been murdered and his murderer had lost 
 his footing in attempting to dispose of his body and 
 himself perished. The river was carefully searched, 
 but more than a week elapsed before any body was 
 found; then a young man's body was found many 
 miles down the river decayed beyond recognition. His 
 friends at once pronounced it to be Robert Nelson be- 
 cause it was the same size and height. His clothes 
 were black and of the same quality as those the 
 young Squire had worn. He had on no coat and 
 when that was found several days afterwards con- 
 taining his papers, a handkerchief with his name on 
 it, and his watch, the chain of which was broken in 
 several places, no doubt could longer be entertained of 
 his death. The remains were brought to the Hall and 
 interred in the family cemetery by the side of Helen. 
 Lillian had refused to believe in Robert's death until 
 she saw his coat, then the conviction came to her that 
 she was indeed a widow. Her grief was excessive and 
 for a time her reason was threatened, but gradually 
 she became quieter and after a few weoks settled down 
 into the very calmness of despair. Like a beautiful 
 Niobe she would sit for hours gazing into vacancy, 
 lost in painful reverie. Auntie would try to draw 
 
136 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 her from a retrospect that made her so sad, so hope- 
 less. One day several months after her husband's 
 nad fate, Lillian said suddenly and with an effort at 
 composure : 
 
 "Auntie, Robert's death must be avenged. Those 
 who have tried to bring his murderer to justice have 
 effected nothing. I think I am the one to under- 
 take the case. I, who have been the cause of all this 
 trouble, am the one who should undertake to avenge 
 him. That, I believe, is my mission in life, and I 
 shall bend every energy to try to fulfill it." Auntie 
 looked into the lovely eyes, that shone with an unusual 
 light. She knew it would not be wise to try to reason 
 Lillian out of this idea, so she said very quietly : 
 
 "Dear, it is the general belief that the man who 
 sent Robert to his fate perished as his victim did. 
 The most careful examination was made by daylight 
 and no marks of returning foot-steps could be seen, 
 while those going up were plainly visible in the sand 
 which had been wet by the shower that came on just 
 at dark, you remember. One of the foot-prints fitted 
 Robert's shoe." 
 
 ' ' The other was that of his murderer, ' ' Lillian said 
 fiercely. "Auntie, the conviction grows upon me that 
 Walter Brunette is accountable for all our trouble 
 and that he still lives. In some way he manages to 
 defy detection and eludes all attempts made to cap- 
 ture him. If I had only kept his threatening letter, 
 that would have gone far to convict him if he is 
 caught. I think I am the one who is ordained to do 
 that work. I think this, for one reason because my 
 feelings towards him have undergone a change. I 
 used to feel a mortal dread of him. I would almost 
 have died of terror even to have met him face to face 
 —now I think I could stand up boldly and accuse 
 him of his terrible crimes and their consequences. 
 
ROBERT'S DISAPPEARANCE 137 
 
 Like Nemesis I could pursue him to the uttermost 
 parts of the earth and when I had brought vengeance 
 upon him, as I feel assured I should do, I would take 
 delight in his sufferings. I should like to see his pride 
 brought low, his wishes foiled at every step and his 
 will made to bend to the inexorable justice of the law. 
 I shall never be satisfied, Auntie, till this is accom- 
 plished." In her excitement she had risen and was 
 walking the room, her long black garments trailing be- 
 hind her in striking contrast to her face of almost 
 marble whiteness and her wealth of snowy hair. Not 
 unlike an avenging angel she appeared to the quiet, 
 saintly woman to whose face many a troublous line 
 and to whose head many a gray hair had recently been 
 added. These were the outward evidences of the in- 
 ward workings of a heart whose daily prayer was for 
 submission and wisdom to counsel the young life that 
 depended so much upon her for comfort and advice. 
 For a few moments after Lillian finished speaking 
 there was silence save for the ticking of the clock 
 and the monotonous 6 ' swish, swish," of the skirts as 
 she paced up and down with hands tightly clasped 
 above the stately head. She was beautiful even now. 
 Trouble seemed powerless to rob her of her fatal 
 dower. Her singular beauty would have attracted 
 attention among a thousand women and riveted the 
 gaze of every eye. Auntie's heart ached for the 
 young wife whose life had been embittered by the 
 loss of her loved one so ruthlessly snatched from her, 
 but she must not encourage her in this spirit that she 
 knew would increase her wrath the more against th( 
 man whose cruelty had wrecked her happiness. Ris- 
 ing, Mrs. Stafford went to Lillian, put her arm gently 
 around the figure quivering from excess of emotion, 
 and drew her to a seat beside her. 
 1 ' My darling," she said in tenderest accents, "try 
 
138 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 to calm yourself. Dismiss your gloomy, bitter 
 thoughts of revenge. Granting your conviction to be 
 true that the relentless foe to your peace and happi- 
 ness still lives, what could you, with your guikless 
 nature, hope to do with one who is an adept in run- 
 ning and deceit— one who has eluded those most skilled 
 in dealing with duplicity and in exposing crime I He 
 would soon have you in his cruel grasp and increase 
 your unhappiness. I think he would hesitate at noth- 
 ing to carry out his plans. Then, too, my dear, while 
 all of us who know the circumstances feel assured 
 Walter Brunette is the direct cause of all our trouble, 
 yet if he was found and brought to trial, I doubt 
 whether there could be found sufficient evidence to 
 convict him. The letter in which he threatened the 
 one who should take you from him would have been 
 strong evidence, but you destroyed it, and all now 
 would be circumstantial evidence, upon which it is 
 hard to convict. I am of the opinion he was drowned, 
 as it would have been exceedingly difficult for him to 
 escape the vigilance of those who searched for him 
 so carefully. If he was not lost in his attempt to 
 drown Eobert, what could have become of him ? That 
 question puzzles the most skillful detectives. His home 
 was watched day and night for weeks by men deter- 
 mined to find him and not the slightest clue has been 
 found. No, dearest, give up every thought that agi- 
 tates you so. Obey the command of One whose 'ways 
 are past finding out,' who says, 'Be still and know 
 that I am God.' Pray Him to calm the waves that 
 sometimes threaten to overwhelm us, and like the bil- 
 lows of the Galilean sea, at His will, there will be a 
 calm. Open your burdened heart to the sunlight of 
 His infinite compassion. Consecrate your life to Him 
 and 'scatter seeds of kindness' all around you 'for 
 your reaping by and by,' for 'He that goeth forth 
 
ROBERT'S DISAPPEARANCE 189 
 
 and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless 
 come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with 
 him." Just listen, dear, starting out weeping, com- 
 ing back rejoicing, bearing precious seed, bringing 
 back sheaves. If we are only faithful in the Master's 
 work we shall stand in the Heavenly gates with those 
 'who came out of great tribulation and washed their 
 robes in the blood of the Lamb.' The heavier the 
 cross, if humbly and patiently borne, the brighter the 
 crown." With such sweet words and promises the 
 Christian friend seemed gradually to calm and soothe 
 the wounded heart. From the Hall there went out a 
 stream of good influences and helpfulness that per- 
 meated the whole community. The sick were visited 
 and ministered to in every way. The needy were 
 helped, the troubled found sympathy and solace in 
 the sweet patience of the afflicted wife and her de- 
 voted friend. Charity was dispensed freely and wisely. 
 Both Mrs. Stafford and Lillian were ready for every 
 good word and work, and as time went by there came 
 something of peace to the dwellers at the Hall, who 
 found that reflex influence which ever comes from 
 seeking the good and happiness of others. The cold 
 winter passed, the spring came and went, and summer, 
 with its long, sunny days, again blessed the land. 
 Auntie, who knew the sunshine and fresh air were 
 the best medicine for both a diseased mind and body, 
 planned to keep Lillian out of doors a great deal, and 
 as the season advanced she rejoiced to see the color 
 come back to cheek and lips. Her eyes grew brighter 
 and her step more elastic. She was much among the 
 flowers and found some surcease of sorrow in caring 
 for them. For Auntie's dear sake she tried to take 
 interest in everything that lady suggested, but some- 
 times when her heart was unusually lonely and sad, 
 she found it hard to evince an interest she did not 
 
140 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 feel. How often in after years she recalled that sum- 
 mer ! How like an own wise, true mother Auntie had 
 been to her ! How gentle in her counsels ! How pa- 
 tient with her in all her moods! Surely no own 
 mother could have shown greater love for an only child 
 than Auntie had shown for her ever since she had 
 known her! If she had known it would be the last 
 summer she would have the dear one with her, her 
 heart, instead of lightening under her holy influence 
 and under time's softening effect, would have been 
 draped in deepest sorrow. What a blessing she didn't 
 know ! But so it was. One morning in the early fall, 
 Auntie, who was accustomed to rise soon in the morn- 
 ing, did not get up. Lillian hastened to her room 
 and found the beautiful, pure spirit that had left the 
 good-night kiss on her lips had ere she woke been 
 ushered into the glorious sunshine of an eternal dawn. 
 Never had there been a larger or more tearful con 
 course of people in the community than attended Mrs. 
 Stafford's remains to their last resting place by the 
 side of her beloved husband and children. In the 
 immense crowd there was not one, perhaps, who had 
 not directly or indirectly felt her saintly influence. 
 We draw a curtain over Lillian's grief. Words could 
 not describe it. 
 
MADAME FLORINE 141 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 MADAME FLORINE. 
 
 Ten years before the present date of our story 
 ' i Queen's Beach" was quite a noted watering-place. 
 It commanded a fine view of the sea and had a fine 
 surf. Many wealthy people, who loved the sea, had 
 found such attractions at Queen's Beach they had 
 built nice cottages and spent their seasons there. A 
 large, commodious hotel entertained the transient 
 guests. A branch railroad had been built to it and 
 for some years it enjoyed great prosperity. A town 
 had rapidly sprung up and at one time it bade fair 
 to become quite an enterprising city. But gradually 
 the wealthy pleasure seekers from whom the place 
 derived its principal source of income became tired 
 of the quiet monotony of the Beach, and one by one 
 the summer cottages were sold to the people of the 
 town for residences. The hotel was purchased by Mr. 
 Bowers, the principal merchant of the Beach. He oc- 
 cupied it as a home for his family, but accommodated 
 the traveling public, which of late years had not been 
 numerous. Indeed at the present date the Beach had 
 settled down into the dullness of a humdrum country 
 town. In the height of its popularity a French gen- 
 tleman had come to the Beach, bought the most de- 
 sirable site that could be purchased and built a French 
 villa, furnishing it handsomely. The grounds, while 
 not extensive, were tastefully arranged. Evergreens 
 and shade trees of rapid growth were set out. Flow- 
 ers adorned the yards and made the place a bower 
 of beauty and bloom in summer and autumn. Mon- 
 sieur Vehon returned to France and brought back his 
 
142 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 family, consisting of his wife and two daughters. 
 For awhile they seemed satisfied, but when the popu- 
 larity of the place began to decline it became too 
 dull to suit the Monsieur's gay wife and daughters, 
 and they moved away. Monsieur had tried in vain to 
 sell the Villa, but no purchaser had as yet been found. 
 For two seasons it had been rented from May to 
 October by families. Last summer it had been vacant. 
 During April of the year of which we are writing a 
 ripple of excitement broke over the usual quietude of 
 the Beach when it was rumored that a French lady, 
 a relative of the French Monsieur, would occupy the 
 " Villa' ' for the season. The ripples multiplied, deep- 
 ened and widened when it was known that the French 
 lady was a young widow of singular be^ity and that 
 her family consisted only of herself anil an elderly 
 companion, a Mrs. Marxman, as her chaperon. As 
 the Villa was rented already furnished there was no 
 display of Madame 's household wealth. All the serv- 
 ants too were engaged after the arrival of the stran- 
 gers. Soon the house was opened for the reception of 
 visitors and all who made the acquaintance of Ma- 
 dame Florine were charmed and delighted with her 
 grace and beauty. She was exceedingly kind and hos- 
 pitable and soon her name was the toast of all who 
 fell under her sweet, gentle influence. Her receptions, 
 so choice and elegant, showed a thorough acquaintance 
 with the ways of the best society. Soon not to know 
 and to enjoy Madame Florine ? s hospitality was to 
 argue yourself unknown among the elite of the Beach. 
 Indeed the most exclusive and aristocratic people of 
 the town paid homage to the magnetic social power of 
 this stranger of whom nothing was known save what 
 her manners and conversation testified, that she was 
 a most refined and accomplished lady. Mrs. Marx- 
 man, when questioned by the inquisitive, said she had 
 
MADAME FLORINE 143 
 
 known Madame Florine only a short time, that she 
 had answered an advertisement in a New York paper 
 and had been engaged by Madame because her testi- 
 monials of character, etc., had suited her better than 
 any of the others who had applied for the position. 
 She supposed Madame had just come from France, as 
 she talked in some outlandish language to a foreign- 
 looking gentleman who visited her as long as she 
 stayed in New York. Madame had never made the 
 slightest allusion to her past life and she was a per- 
 son no one could approach too near or break down 
 the reserve with which she had surrounded herself 
 without absolute rudeness. One morning three 
 months after Madame 's appearance at the Villa, Pearl 
 Bowers, the belle of the Beach, and Nell Campbell, 
 her most intimate friend, were discussing a delightful 
 tea-party which they had attended at the Villa the 
 night before and were extolling Madame ? s marvelous 
 tact of entertaining. After a pause, Pearl said : 
 
 "Nell, while Madame Florine without any apparent 
 exertion makes everybody enjoy every occasion, is 
 herself the very spirit of it, still I do not think she 
 takes any pleasure in them. I have watched her se- 
 cretly and sometimes have caught an involuntary sigh. 
 Do you notice that in absolute repose her countenance 
 has a very sad expression? I feel assured there is a 
 mystery connected with her life, a dark background 
 against which her kindness and enjoyment of others' 
 pleasure seem the more conspicuous. Then, too, her 
 beautiful white hair and glasses make her look older 
 than she really is. One morning after I had spent 
 the night at the Villa I saw her without her glasses. 
 She was gazing pensively out of the window with her 
 glasses in her hand and turned suddenly on my ap- 
 proach. I caught her hand as she tried to put on 
 her glasses and begged her to let me see her without 
 
Hi LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 them. After a slight hesitation she looked ine in the 
 face with a pair of the loveliest, most expressive eyes 
 I have ever seen. You could never imagine how beau- 
 tiful they are. Those glasses entirely change the ex- 
 pression of her eyes and countenance and make her 
 appear at least ten years older than she is. I begged 
 her not to wear them any more, but she only shook 
 her head with a sad little sigh and, adjusting the 
 glasses, at once changed the subject. I am not a very 
 susceptible person, as you know, but I fell greatly 
 in love with Madame at first sight and my affection 
 for her increases every time I see her. How much I 
 wish I knew the secret of her life ! I know it would 
 re id just like a story in a book, only the heroine would 
 be a veritable woman with every grace you read about 
 exemplified in her, and of extraordinary beauty, too." 
 
 " Yes," Nell replied, "she is a most wonderfully at- 
 tractive lady, by whose society you feel elevated and 
 encouraged to lead a better, more self-sacrificing life. 
 I have been so enthusiastic in my praises of her beauty 
 and other numerous attractions I have even aroused 
 Mr. Reynolds' desire to make her acquaintance and 
 have secured an invitation for him to the lawn-party 
 next Thursday night. You know he is a real recluse. 
 He has boarded with us several years and we all like 
 him very much. He is very intelligent and remark- 
 ably entertaining when he exerts himself, but we 
 never see him except at the table, and for days, even 
 weeks sometimes, he never speaks a word even there, 
 except to decline or accept the courtesies of the table. 
 He goes to the postoffice every evening after the last 
 train, which you know comes about dark, and takes a 
 row on the sea for exercise every day. With that ex- 
 ception he stays in his room and writes all day long. 
 He writes for the 'Beach Nut/ you know— wrote that 
 continued story over which people almost went wild 
 
MADAME FLORINE 
 
 and which doubled the circulation of the paper. He 
 writes for several other papers too, and I reckon makes 
 a lot of money. Wouldn't it be romantic if he should 
 fall in love with Madame, learn the story of her life 
 and write it out for us to read? I think nothing 
 would be so delightful." 
 
 "Yes," Pearl answered, thoughtfully, "but I think 
 Madame would be as reticent with him about her heart 
 history as she is with us. I think her heart is in 
 her husband's grave and she finds her only pleasure 
 now in ministering to the happiness of others." 
 
 The next Thursday night, when Nell appeared with 
 her friend, Mr. Reynolds, Madame was as usual the 
 center of an admiring group with whom she was dis- 
 cussing with more than usual animation some mirthful 
 question. She stood under a tree from whose branches # 
 many gay-colored lanterns hung. She was dressed in 
 pure white and the color from the lanterns threw a 
 rosy hue over her usually pure white face. Every- 
 body said they had never seen Madame look so lovely. 
 When Mr. Reynolds was introduced to her she greeted 
 him with an easy grace that became her well and which 
 was, everybody said, one of her principal charms. Mr. 
 Reynolds was a tall, fine-looking gentleman with black 
 hair, beard and mustache. He wore glasses, through 
 which shone a pair of very bright eyes. His hands 
 were white and shapely and on one finger shone a 
 gem of rare beauty. His voice was low but well modu- 
 lated, and if he was a recluse, his manners showed 
 he had at some time in his life been conversant with 
 the ways of society. He at once engaged Madame 
 in conversation, and, like all others, seemed charmed 
 by his new acquaintance. He sought her society as 
 often as etiquette allowed and won from her per- 
 mission to continue his acquaintance with her, a per- 
 
146 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 mission of which he soon availed himself, and, first 
 with Nell and then alone, often sought the society of 
 the Queen of the Villa, as her friends had learned to 
 designate Madame. 
 
LILLIAN AS A DETECTIVE 147 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 LILLIAN AS A DETECTIVE. 
 
 Five months have passed since Lillian first occupied 
 the Villa, for Madame Florine was none other than 
 she, as our readers have doubtless surmised. Two 
 weeks after Auntie's death she had suddenly gone 
 away from the Hall, telling no one where she was 
 going. Indeed, she did not know herself. She told 
 Mrs. Coles she could not stay where such painful asso- 
 ciations surrounded her and that she would be gone 
 for an indefinite period. She left the Hall in the care 
 of Mrs. Coles and her brother, as Robert had done dur- 
 ing his absence at college, and the grand old place 
 settled down to the loneliness of those days, only now 
 the shadows of sorrow and death had gathered over 
 it with no hope of their ever uplifting. Lillian had 
 determined to go first to New York. Beyond that she 
 had no definite plan. It was necessary to spend one 
 day in the city of 0. to see her lawyers. On arriving 
 there, as it was a warm, bright day and the place of 
 her destination not far from the depot, she decided to 
 walk to it. Turning a corner of a street she noticed 
 just ahead of her an elderly looking lady, dressed 
 in mourning and enveloped in a very thick black veil. 
 She never knew what attracted her attention to this 
 lady unless it was that she wore the habiliments of 
 bereavement, as she herself did, and there is always 
 true sympathy in true sorrow. The stranger's step 
 was slow and her shoulders were bent more it seemed 
 from trouble than old age. Lillian slackened her own 
 pace and kept the same distance behind the lady, with- 
 out even thinking why, As the stranger reached the 
 
148 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERB 
 
 postoffice she put her veil a little to one side to see 
 how to ascend the steps and gave a quick look around 
 as if to see whether she was observed. In that one 
 stealthy glance Lillian, through her own thick veil, 
 recognized the mother of the man who had wrought 
 such ruin in her home. She had heard Mr. Brown, 
 Mrs. Brunette 's brother, was dead and that Mrs, Bru- 
 nette and Evelyn Brown had returned to Cuckoo's 
 Nest. Very softly she stepped into the office behind 
 Mrs. Brunette and heard her say in a low, scarcely 
 audible voice, 1 i No. 197." She extended a hand en- 
 cased in a fine kid glove for the mail, which consisted 
 of several letters and papers. Clasping it firmly, she 
 put it under her veil and hastened away, without 
 noticing the closely veiled lady who was noting her 
 every act and word intently. Before she left the city 
 for New York she had an interivew with Mr. Monroe, 
 the postmaster, who had known her husband and all 
 the sad occurrences at the Hall. From him she 
 learned that "No. 197" had been rented for a year 
 and paid for in advance by a lady giving her name as 
 Miss Lucy Stone ; that it was not Miss Evelyn Brown, 
 whom he knew by sight and for whom letters and pa- 
 pers had come through the general delivery since her 
 recent coming to Cuckoo 's Nest ; that letters and papers 
 had come to "No. 197" bearing the name of Miss Lucy 
 Stone and some with only the number of the box on 
 them. He told her also how the detectives had watched 
 the Brunette lock box and had examined every suspi- 
 cious-looking letter that had come to the office with 
 the hope of getting a clue to Brunette's hiding place, 
 but nothing whatever had been learned. Mr. Monroe 
 tried to dissuade Lillian from attempting anything in 
 regard to the matter, using the same arguments Mrs. 
 Stafford had done, but Lillian was firm in her deter- 
 mination to do all she could. He offered, however, to 
 
LILLIAN AS A DETECTIVE 149 
 
 help her in any way in his power, promising to send to 
 her the postmark of any letters that came to "No. 
 197. " The desire to avenge her husband's death had 
 taken possession of her with renewed strength. Should 
 he who had committed such cowardly and heinous 
 crimes be at large and no effort be made to bring him 
 to an expiation of his crimes ? Surely she could not sit 
 down supinely in fruitless grief and do nothing in 
 regard to a matter that was never for one moment out 
 of her thoughts and that haunted her sleep nightly. 
 Some steps must be taken for the apprehension of 
 the murderer. All thought of her own safety was 
 lost in the one idea of avenging Robert's and Helen's 
 deaths. Many a woman had done what a man failed 
 to do, why should not she? She had nothing else 
 left her to do and did not this show that it was her 
 duty? While Auntie lived she felt it right to yield 
 to her advice and not bring more trouble upon the 
 heart of one who had been such a true mother and 
 friend to her, but now she, too, had been taken from 
 her and the way to carry out her scheme seemed open 
 to her. If she could only find out Walter Brunette's 
 hiding place ! She could employ cunning against cun- 
 ning. Surely under an assumed name and character, 
 with a disguise made effective by her altered appear- 
 ance, she could deceive even the deceiver. Who would 
 connect the pale, thin, sad-eyed, white-haired woman 
 with the girl Walter Brunette had known? She felt 
 assured she would be successful. It would be worth 
 the trial to her, to whom something to do was neces- 
 sary. She had been in New York two weeks when 
 a letter came from Mr. Monroe, containing the post- 
 mark of two letters that had come to 6 ' No. 197. ' ' One 
 was "Brownley," the other "Queen's Beach." Mr. 
 Monroe wrote : "Brownley is the name of the station 
 near which Mr. Brown, Mrs. Brunette's brother, used 
 
150 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 to live. That only shows you are probably on the right 
 track in thinking '197' has some connection with that 
 family. After careful examination of the direction 
 of the letter that bore the postmark of 'Queen's 
 Beach/ I am under the impression the hand was 
 disguised from a naturally bold one to a stiff, awk- 
 ward one. It may be the writer is Brunette in hid- 
 ing in disguise there. It is a dull, out-of-the way sort 
 of place, that a man trying to hide himself might 
 select as suitable for that purpose. I have a sister 
 who lives there and as I have been promising her a 
 visit for some time, I will run down for a day or two 
 and find out all I can for you, telling no one, of 
 course, anything connected with your business." A 
 week after another letter came from Mr. Monroe con- 
 taining these words : "I have paid the promised visit 
 to 'Queen's Beach.' I found out nothing except that 
 there is a nice place called a French Villa for rent 
 there, already furnished. As a French lady you 
 might occupy it for the season and see what you can 
 do. If you accomplish nothing the sea-breezes will, 
 I think, be very beneficial to you. I should 
 try it, anyway, and if you say so, will write to my 
 brother-in-law, Mr. Bowers, to secure it for you for 
 next season." Lillian at once advertised for an eld- 
 erly lady to be her companion and selected Mrs. Marx- 
 man from among the numerous persons who applied. 
 She then engaged the services of a French teacher to 
 renew her acquaintance with that language. She had 
 been accustomed from a child to converse in French 
 with her uncle and it soon came to her very naturally. 
 Her teacher was very enthusiastic in praise of her 
 pronunciation and proficiency. As we have seen, she 
 had carried out her role as a French lady and won 
 great popularity for her rare beauty and numerous 
 accomplishments, but she was not satisfied. With an 
 
LILLIAN AS A DETECTIVE 151 
 
 open, frank nature, the thought of deceit, of the part 
 she was acting, made her feel ill at ease. What if her 
 friends who trusted her so implicitly, who had taken 
 her for what she pretended, should find out her duplic- 
 ity, would they, if they knew the circumstances, jus- 
 tify her in the cours# she was pursuing? Thin, too, 
 she had accomplished nothing and felt very much 
 discouraged. She had made the acquaintance of 
 nearly all the people in the town and by adroit in- 
 quiries had managed to learn all that was necessary 
 be known about the others. She had hoped something 
 from Nell's friend, Mr. Reynolds, when she had heard 
 what a recluse he was and how he seemed to shun so- 
 ciety. With the thought that she had perhaps at last 
 found out the man she sought, she waited somewhat 
 impatiently the night of the lawn party. But one 
 glance into the face of the stranger had assured her 
 her hopes were groundless and as her acquaintance 
 with him increased she forgot even her suspicions. 
 He had become quite a frequent guest, Mrs. Marx- 
 man's constant presence in the room during his visits 
 when alone seeming in no way to annoy or disconcert 
 him. He was a fine French scholar and often they 
 conversed in French, much to her companion's dis- 
 gust and annoyance, who, like most of her class, had 
 an amount of curiosity. She would sit near the light, 
 apparently very intent on crocheting, but never los- 
 ing a word she could understand. Sometimes when 
 conversing in French they would laugh at something 
 into which she could not enter. Frequently Lillian 
 would explain it to her in English and she would enjoy 
 it too. If ever the thought of Walter Brunette crossed 
 her mind when in the company of Mr. Reynolds, she 
 would dismiss it at once. It seemed really absurd 
 even to think of connecting the tall, dark, scholarly 
 Mr. Reynoldi, with his low musical voice in which a 
 
152 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 slight lisp was perceptible, with Walter Brunette's 
 athletic figure, fair complexion and blond hair and 
 mustache, which only partially concealed his finely 
 shaped mouth with the firm lines about it, but which 
 could be at times as tender as a woman's. His voice, 
 too, while it could be low and musical, was remarkably 
 clear and distinct. Lillian liked Mr. Reynolds. His 
 versatile conversation interested her. He was per- 
 fectly conversant with all the social, literary and polit* 
 ical matters of the day and formed, as it were, a link 
 to bind her to the outside world from which she had 
 been so long debarred. While this was true, she was 
 becoming uneasy at his evident and increasing pleas- 
 ure in her society. She could like him as a friend, 
 but the very idea of him as a lover annoyed and 
 troubled her. The thought of ever marrying again 
 had never occurred to her. The thought of anybody 
 loving her save as a friend was equally distant to 
 her. She had never been vain even in her palmiest 
 days. She would never be guilty of that now when 
 she felt she had lost all of whatever beauty she might 
 have once possessed. She had been therefore hard 
 to convince that Mr. Reynolds thought of her save 
 as a friend, but latterly his attentions and looks, some- 
 times his words, uttered in French as if to prepare 
 her for what was to come, had startled her out of 
 her former composure. Not quite a month remained 
 of her time at the Villa. While she had been unsuc- 
 cessful in what had been her object in coming, still 
 she did not regret her stay tl ^. She had given 
 pleasure to the young people aiid in their pleasure 
 found some alleviation of her own grief in that most 
 effectual method of lightening our sorrows. Then, 
 too, her sojourn at the sea-side she knew had been 
 beneficial to her health. She was much stronger and 
 there was more color in her cheeks and lips. While 
 
LILLIAN AS A DETECTIVE 
 
 153 
 
 her sorrow still tugged at her heart and kept it sad 
 and sore, yet she was not so completely friendless anc 
 cheerless as she had seemed before coming to the 
 Beach. In some of the families she had found con- 
 genial friends. Pearl Bowers she had learned to love 
 as a dear younger sister, and Pearl showed her an 
 affection that often reminded her of Helen's warm, 
 tender love for her. Often she drew the fair, sweet 
 girl to her and kised her fondly, "for dear Helen's 
 sake." She had told Pearl she resembled in disposi- 
 tion a dear friend of hers named Helen, and when 
 Madame kissed and petted her with that far-away look 
 she knew her friend was thinking not so much oi 
 her as of the dear absent one. She had told no one oi 
 her history, but all who knew her loved and trusted 
 her, and had it not been for Mr. Reynolds, she fell 
 she would have liked to make her home at the Beach 
 but on his account she was glad she was going, glad 
 that not many weeks must elapse before her going. 
 Till then she would be patient and give the young peo- 
 ple as good a time as she could. 
 
154 LILLIAN DeVERK 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 It was the middle of October. For several days it 
 had been cloudy and rainy— the air from the sea cold 
 and damp, making a fire in iPLe open grates of the 
 Villa very agreeable. One night it was cloudy and 
 blustering. Mrs. Marxman sat in the parlor by the 
 tall piano-lamp, crocheting as usual, but her eyes 
 wandered often to the quiet figure sitting motionless 
 in an easy chair before the fire, one elbow on th* 
 arm of the chair and the palm of the small, white, 
 shapely hand supporting the brow over which clus- 
 tered curls of white silken hair. She was gazing in- 
 tently in the fire, apparently finding a fascination in 
 the glowing coals. The glasses which usually hid the 
 lovely dark-fringed eyes were lying in her lap. The 
 ruddy fire-light gave her face the color it lacked to 
 make it as beautiful as it had formerly been. The 
 healthy sea-breezes and being much in the open air 
 had rounded out her cheeks and given her face its 
 youthful almost perfect contour. As Mrs. Marxman 's 
 admiring gaze rested upon her she wondered— first, 
 what made Madame even more than usually silent and 
 thoughtful, wondered what she was thinking about 
 that brought the sad, far-away expression into the fine 
 face, wondered why Madame, with her command of 
 money, should wear no ornament, not even a ring on 
 the small taper fingers— wondered if Madame would 
 ever love Mr. Reynolds, who, she felt assured, loved 
 only her, though he could have won Miss Nell or any 
 of the girls who seemed to admire him so much. Ma- 
 
THE DISCOVERY 
 
 155 
 
 dame in the meantime was busy with her own 
 thoughts. She was wondering what step to take next. 
 In two weeks her stay at the Villa would end. Mr. 
 Bowers, who was agent for the owner of the Villa, and 
 all her friends begged her to retain it. How could 
 they ever do without her who had given them such a 
 delightful season, they pleaded, but in vain. She 
 must go, but where? To the Hall? She shuddered 
 at the very idea of spending the winter there, 
 going over again her sorrowful experience. Finally 
 she had about decided to give up all detective work, 
 in which she had failed so signally, and go back to 
 New York. In that city she would gather about her 
 a coterie of congenial friends and strive to enhance 
 their pleasure, in which effort she would find her 
 own. She should be ever on the alert to relieve dis- 
 tress, to find fields in which to scatter the seeds of 
 kindness as Auntie had advised her to do. She was 
 thinking very seriously of this when the door was sud- 
 denly opened and Mr. Reynolds announced. He im- 
 mediately followed the servant. Madame, startled 
 from her reverie, arose quickly to greet the gentleman 
 and, unnoticed, her glasses dropped from her lap. 
 Mr. Reynolds picked them up and, unobserved, laid 
 them on a table. Madame had never liked to wear 
 them, only wore them for disguise. Latterly, as all 
 need of that seemed over she had been quite careless 
 about wearing them. She greeted Mr. Reynolds 
 without missing them. That gentleman had never 
 seen her without them and seemed startled by the 
 great difference they made in her appearance. Lil- 
 lian, unheeding, was even more than usually animated. 
 She had decided upon her future course and somehow 
 felt relieved that the decision was made. They talked 
 on, at least Lillian did. She noticed Mr. Reynolds 
 was unusually silent and abstracted, but she felt his 
 ■earching look through his two pairs of bright eyes, 
 
156 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 that tonight appeared brighter than their wont and 
 sought hers with such an eager questioning look, as 
 she afterward thought. He had given her a clipping 
 from a paper to read and she, after praising it, passed 
 it to him. At the moment a puff of air came and 
 snatched it from her hand ere it reached his and 
 Walter Brunette, putting out his hand suddenly 
 to save it, disclosed a scar on his wrist that 
 made all the blood recede from Lillian's face 
 and almost turned her to stone, for it was exactly 
 like one "Walter Brunette had shown her once on his 
 wrist and had told her it had been made by a knife 
 in the hands of a boy who had thus resented a severe 
 blow he had given him with his fist. He said the 
 blood had flowed freely and greatly frightened his 
 assailant, who hastily bound two handkerchiefs 
 around his arm, one to stop the gushing blood and 
 the other above his elbow, and had by this means saved 
 his life, the physicians said, though they lived in a city 
 and but a short time had elapsed before the doctor 
 came. Could this man be Walter Brunette in dis- 
 guise? She had caught his quick glance on recover- 
 ing the paper and she trembled under it. If he was 
 her worst foe, had he not penetrated her disguise, and 
 learned her identity? She shuddered at the thought. 
 For the first time she thought of her glasses. Oh, 
 that she had them to hide her eyes from the man 
 who seemed to be watching her though his eyes were 
 on the paper which he was replacing in the little red 
 book from which he had taken it. She felt the neces- 
 sity of self-control. There had been an awkward 
 pause, then in a calm voice which surprised herself, 
 she said, "You came near losing it. I would have 
 been sorry, for it is very beautiful." Did his voice 
 quiver or was it only her excited imagination that 
 made her think so, as he answered, ' I would have re 
 
THE DISCOVERY 
 
 157 
 
 gretted its loss very much." Somehow the course of 
 the conversation did not flow so smoothly as on former 
 visits and more than an hour sooner than usual Mr. 
 Reynolds, much to Lillian 's relief, took his departure, 
 alleging as a reason his fear that the rain which was 
 falling steadily would increase. Lillian did not sleep 
 that night. After all in the house were buried in 
 slumber she paced up and down in her room, trying 
 to settle some questions which puzzled her beyond 
 measure and upon which so much depended. Was 
 Mr. Reynolds Walter Brunette in disguise ? Just the 
 day before she would unhesitatingly have answered 
 in the negative. But now, with that peculiar scar 
 which surely no two men would have, with his changed 
 manner, with the quick questioning glance at her when 
 he knew she saw the scar, what could she say ? Witt 
 his hair and mustache dyed and with a heavy beard 
 to conceal his features and glasses to hide his eyes, 
 she could see now he could make an effective dis- 
 guise. And yet could it be possible that the popular 
 journalist was Walter Brunette ? Could he have won 
 such fame and publicity under an assumed name and 
 character? Then, too, would not some instinctive re- 
 pulsion have warned her against him who had de- 
 stroyed her happiness and wrecked her life ? Instead 
 she had been rather attracted to him, had really en- 
 joyed his brilliant conversation. She must have fur- 
 ther evidence ere she could believe that the two men 
 were one and the same. Unable to decide a ques- 
 tion that excited her so much she then began to ask 
 herself, if the man was Walter Brunette, did her 
 blanched face reveal to him, in that quick glance, her 
 identity? She had been very brave until forced to 
 face the thought of her enemy's presence near her. 
 Now she bagan to fear him who had acted so treach- 
 erously towards her and hers. What steps must she 
 
158 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 take to ensnare him, if it were indeed he? She Imew"~ 
 she must be wary, indeed. Of one thing she was re- 
 solved, she would never see Mr. Reynolds again in 
 her own home. She must frame some excuse if he 
 called. Her very fear of him would betray her if 
 she were not already known to him. 
 
 She thought on the situation long and seriously. 
 The next morning she wrote a note to Mr. Rosser, the 
 postmaster, an estimable young gentleman who loved 
 Pearl Bowers and who had often been a guest at the 
 Villa. The note ran thus : 
 "Mr. Rosser: 
 
 "Pearl Bowers will take tea with me tonight. 
 Would you not like to come and help me entertain 
 her? I should be glad if you would. 
 
 6 6 Madame Florine. ' ' 
 
 Ringing for the dining-room servant she gave the 
 note into his hand, saying : 
 
 "Malcolm, go from here to Mr. Bowers' and tell 
 Miss Pearl I wish her to come and spend the evening 
 with me, and if she says she w T ill come, take this note 
 to Mr. Rosser and give it into his hands through the 
 window. You see it has no stamp and will not go 
 without one." 
 
 On his return Malcolm said Miss Pearl would be 
 glad to come and Mr. Rosser had sent her a note 
 which was merely an acceptance of her invitation. 
 As the servant turned to leave she asked carelessly : 
 
 "Did you see anybody you knew on the way?" 
 
 "No one, ma'am, but Mr. Reynolds, who stepped 
 up behind me on my way to the postotfice and asked 
 me where I was going. I told him to the office. 'I'm 
 going that way,' he said, very politely, 'and will take 
 your mail for you.' I told him I didn't have any 
 mail but was going for some, so he passed on and 
 didn't even go to the office. I remembered you told 
 
THE DISCOVERY 
 
 159 
 
 me to give the letter into Mr. Rosser 's hands and I 
 done so, my lady." Lillian praised him for being so 
 obedient to her commands and then her thoughts 
 turned again to Mr. Reynolds. Was he trying to find 
 out to whom she was writing? It seemed so by his 
 offer to Malcolm. She was glad the servant had been 
 so obedient. That night after tea as Mr. Rosser was 
 about to follow Pearl to the parlor, Madame said to 
 him, "I would like to see you alone for a few min- 
 utes." Leading the way to the library on the oppo- 
 site side of the hall, she said on entering : 
 
 "Mr. Rosser, I wish to make you my confidant in 
 a matter that is of vital interest to me. Will you 
 promise never to betray what I am about to confide 
 in you?" Mr. Rosser promised at once. He had 
 implicit confidence in Madame Florine and knew she 
 would wish him to promise nothing it would not be 
 right to keep. She continued : 
 
 "I have reason to doubt that Mr. Reynolds is what 
 he appears. I suspect he is a man who has greatly 
 injured a family of which I was a member. This can 
 only be proved by intercepting his private letters. 
 Will you notice for any of that character and bring 
 them to me? I will open, read and reseal them in 
 your presence." Mr. Rosser hesitated a moment, but 
 Madame said : 
 
 "If any harm comes to you for such interference 
 I will see to it that you are not harmed by it." 
 
 Looking into the lovely pleading face, so pure and 
 truthful in its expression, he gave the promise, as 
 almost any other man under the circumstances would 
 have done. Several days passed. One night Mr. Ros- 
 ser presented himself at the Villa with two letters 
 directed to Mr. A. J. Reynolds ; the post-mark of one 
 was quite indistinct; "ton" was all that could be dis 
 tinguished of it. 
 
160 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 With Mr. Rosser's help she carefully opened the 
 foreign-looking letter, which ran as follows: 
 11 On board Scotch Cap, 
 "North Sea, near London, Oct. 2, '18. 
 1 k Hello, Old Fellow : 
 
 "I will address my letter to your last name and 
 place, as I suppose you still go under that name. The 
 truth is you change your name and place so often I 
 can 't keep up with you. Now, Bru, I am not so well 
 pleased with you as I would be if you had been as 
 prompt to keep your promises as you were at first. 
 You wrote me a handsome remittance would be await- 
 ing me when I put in at London and not a cent can 
 I find to my credit there. That's a dirty job of work 
 I am doing for you, the dirtiest I ever undertook, and 
 I am getting tired of it. I have a notion of washing 
 my hands of it and setting the poor fellow free. If 
 I do, you'd better look out or you know what will 
 happen. I think he will make it pretty hot for you. 
 You bet he will. Now, I don't mean this as an idle 
 threat, 'pon my word, I don't, but I must be paid 
 handsomely for my part of the work or I'll give it 
 up as I say and as I swear I will do if that promised 
 $600 are not forthcoming in four weeks from date, 
 which will give you plenty of time to get it and send 
 it. If you don't send it by that time you may know 
 we have played quits and may prepare yourself for 
 the consequences. Yours, etc., 
 
 "Hal Mc." 
 
 The other was written in a very peculiar hand and 
 read thus: 
 
 "Eome. 
 
 "My Dear Boy: 
 
 "Your mother's heart is aching for a sight of 
 you. Can I not come to see you, if only for a day? 
 I will be so careful. Could I not come as a stranger, 
 
THE DISCOVERY 161 
 
 'as a book-agent,' or something of that sort? If I 
 could only see you and feast my eyes upon you I think 
 I could wait patiently for another year! A year! 
 Just think, my darling, how long that is to one who 
 loves you so absorbingly that the very sunlight of 
 heaven seems darkened when I cannot look into your 
 eyes that are so like heaven's own blue. My darling, 
 if I cannot come write your mother that you love 
 her better than anyone else, do you not, my precious 
 one? E— sends love. Write very soon. Your let- 
 ters are the only pleasure that comes to our once happy 
 home. Mother." 
 
 As Lillian read these letters she knew A. J. Reynolds 
 was no other than Walter Brunette, and her heart 
 beat violently at the thought. She felt assured, too. 
 he had recognized her and would take every step to 
 thwart her. She told Mr. Rosser her suspicions were 
 verified and asked to retain the foreign letter to prove 
 it. The out-pouring of his mother's heart must go 
 to him. She could not retain that. It was carefully 
 resealed and after her guests left Lillian sat down to 
 plan for the future. What must she do? To take 
 any hasty steps would only make him take alarm and 
 flee. What was best to be done? Oh, that she had 
 someone to advise her in this dire emergency ! 
 
162 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE FATAL PICNIC. 
 
 The next evening Nell came to the Villa and soon 
 after her arrival announced the fact that Mr. Reyn- 
 olds had been called off on important business by a 
 telegram the day before and, she supposed, had left 
 on the first train that morning. He had taken all his 
 effects that could be carried and would be gone indef- 
 initely. 
 
 i ' Mamma says she thinks Mr. Reynolds has been 
 expecting this summons for several days, as he has 
 seemed so restless and uneasy. He hasn't stayed ai 
 home a single night for nearly a week, which is very 
 unusual for him, who has always been so regular in 
 his habits. Last night he came in hurriedly and ex- 
 citedly, saying he had been called off and would leave 
 as soon as possible. He packed up at once and bade 
 us good-by." When Nell left and Lillian thought it 
 all over her first feeling was one of disappointment, 
 that her prey, for which she had plotted, should have 
 eluded her grasp. She blamed herself for not putting 
 the officers on his track at once instead of waiting foi 
 further evidence. She could have secured that later. 
 Why had she not seized the opportunity that very 
 night, as soon as she suspected him? But as she 
 reviewed his cunning devices and duplicity there came 
 a feeling of relief that he had fled. Like most of us, 
 she felt herself very strong and brave when danger 
 was distant, but was weak and cowardly when brought 
 face to face with its awful reality. She had felt 
 almost afraid to sleep since she knew of his proximity 
 
THE FATAL PICNIC 
 
 and was assured he had penetrated her disguise. Of 
 what crime was he not capable? And she had re- 
 ceived this serpent into her home and given him her 
 friendship! Had he not sought it in order to per- 
 fect some perfidious plot, trusting to his disguise to 
 aid him? " Yes/' she decided at last, "it was best 
 for her peace and safety he had gone, for, as Auntie 
 said, what could she, an unprotected woman, hope to 
 effect against such a man?" She would surely have 
 fallen into any trap she might have set for him, and 
 the blood almost froze in her veins at the thought, 
 She had promised the young people a picnic before 
 she left. Before she learned of Brunette's flight she 
 had thought to frame some excuse for not carrying 
 out her plans in that regard, but now she set about 
 preparation for it with some interest. She would be 
 pleased to meet all her young friends once more anc 
 minister to their pleasure. They had all been so kind 
 and respectful to her, so grateful for any little en- 
 joyment she had given them. Soon she would leave 
 them, perhaps forever. The thought saddened her. 
 She would have liked to make her home among them , 
 but she felt she couldn't do that without telling them 
 all her sad story— she could not deceive them longer 
 as to her real character. That would necessitate lay- 
 ing bare the most sacred recesses of her heart to public 
 view, and subjecting her motives to harsh criticism. 
 No one could put himself in her place and decide what 
 he would have done under the circumstances, for 
 surely to but few had ever come such heart-rending 
 experiences. No, she would go to New York and hide 
 herself among its teeming millions. Surely there she 
 would be safe. The day of the picnic came. The 
 morning was bright and beautiful, just a little windy 
 The picnic grounds were in a wood just opposite a 
 
164 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 steep cliff called "Sunset Cliff," because from its 
 summit there was such a fine view of the sun setting 
 over the sea. At the very top of the bluff were twc 
 huge rocks separated but two feet from each other 
 spurs from which formed comfortable seats from which 
 the finest view could be obtained. The picnic was a 
 success, as everything Madame had anything to d( 
 with always proved to be. As the afternoon advanced 
 the wind increased and dark clouds began to obscure 
 the sky, but the young people, intent on their own 
 pleasure, heeded them not. All at once there came 
 to Lillian a desire to view once more the scene from 
 "Sunset Cliff. " She had often seen the sunset from 
 the rocks— now she would view the sea in its fury, 
 for the wind was gradually increasing and the beating 
 of the surf upon the beach was growing louder. Tell- 
 ing Mrs. Marxman, who was complaining of headache, 
 that she and the servants could go when she wished 
 and asking Pearl to seek her on the rocks if she stayed 
 too late, she stole off from the crowd and ascended 
 the bluff. What a grand scene presented itself to 
 her ! She had never seen the sea so angry. The bil- 
 lows tossed the foam higher and higher as fretful 
 horses toss their head and mane. Nothing was to be 
 seen save that one solitary figure seated there gazing 
 intently over the waters. Not a sound broke the soli- 
 tude save the wind and the surf roaring along the 
 shore. She never knew how long she sat there alone, 
 busy with thoughts that somehow seemed to catch the 
 madness of the waters raging beneath her. At first 
 she was interested only in the grandeur of the sight, 
 then the scenes of her life seemed to come up before 
 her in panoramic review, and her heart became hot 
 and restless. Again the disappointment of her effort 
 to entrap the man who had plunged her life into suck. 
 
THE FATAL PICNIC 
 
 165 
 
 bitter sorrow stung her. Then, too, her heart was 
 filled with a great dread— the dread one ever feels of 
 a stealthy and implacable foe. She could never fee 
 safe again, for he would pursue her as a relentless 
 fate. Nothing but the grave would hide her from his 
 power. Finally the darkness brought her to a sense 
 of herself and her isolated position. It was getting 
 late ; why had not Pearl or Nell sought her ? Surely 
 the party had broken up ! In alarm she sprang to 
 her feet and looked in the direction of the opening 
 between the " Rocks' 9 and what she saw there made 
 her fall back to her seat in absolute terror, for there, 
 shutting her off from all hope of escape, stood Walter 
 Brunette. For a moment she thought he must be a 
 creation of her own excited fancy, induced by her over- 
 wrought feelings. But she was soon convinced the 
 man was a terrible reality. She put her hands before 
 her eyes for a minute to hide them from those that 
 looked upon her so exultingly, and to recover herself. 
 She must never let him know she suspected him to 
 be other than Mr. Reynolds. Presently she looked 
 up, and said, as quietly as she could, but with wildly 
 beating heart: 
 
 "Mr. Reynolds, you frightened me greatly. I was 
 expecting Pearl and looking up suddenly saw you 
 standing in the twilight. Where can Pearl be ? It is 
 getting dark, I must go, ' ' and she started towards the 
 only exit from her imprisonment and which Walter 
 Brunette barred with his towering figure. 
 
166 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 SAD, SAD FATE ! 
 
 With a light laugh that sounded the knell to Lil- 
 lian's hopes, the man said: 
 
 "Mr. Reynolds, indeed! My peerless Lillian, that 
 farce between us is played out and the curtain has 
 fallen on the last act, at least so far as we two are 
 concerned. As Mr. Reynolds, I hoped to woo and win 
 you and then reveal myself to you, but that confounded 
 scar betrayed me prematurely. One glance into your 
 face showed me you suspected me and when, shortly 
 after, I found a letter from my mother had been tam- 
 pered with, I knew my little game was played out as 
 Mr. Reynolds. My disguise was effectual in mislead- 
 ing you, but, darling, did you expect, with those hid- 
 eous glasses, you could conceal those lovely eyes that 
 from their first glance have made me your most ardent 
 adorer? Did you imagine you could, with that wig of 
 false hair, conceal your dark, silken tresses, that, like 
 so many chains, have bound me a willing captive to you 
 since first I knew you ? Did you, with your matchless 
 beauty, imagine you could in any way disguise your- 
 self from one who has loved you so long and so ab- 
 sorbingly ? No, no, my beloved, you could not I was 
 quite assured you were my love, my long-separated 
 love, when first I saw you that night at the lawn 
 party. I knew no face but thine, no voice but thine 
 could make my heart throb and thrill so rapturously. 
 As our acquaintance increased I felt more assured and 
 the hope of winning you absorbed every thought of 
 my being. I counted the days and hours between each 
 
SAD, SAD FATE 
 
 167 
 
 visit. I again gave myself up to the thought of bliss 
 that would yet be mine. Then came your suspecting 
 my identity and I felt that I could not survive my lost 
 hope. You thought I fled in cowardly fear of you. 
 T fled from myself, lest I should commit rashly some 
 desperate act that would forever separate us. I went 
 away but I could not stay from you. Destiny drove 
 me back. Arriving by the last train, Mrs. Campbell 
 told me about the picnic. With no thought nor plan 
 save of seeing you once more I hastened to the wood. 
 On my way there I met Mrs. Marxman, who told me 
 where you were. I hurried to find you and saw Miss 
 Pearl and several others about to ascend the cliff for 
 you. I sent them home and came myself, feeling that 
 fortune had indeed favored me. Come, my beautiful 
 Lillian, come to the arms that will shield you from 
 all harm, all sorrow. Come to the heart that has 
 beaten only for you since first it felt the influence of 
 your entrancing beauty and wondrous grace. Come, 
 my darling, my own, my very own, whom no earthly 
 power can snatch from me. Come," he pleaded, pas- 
 sionately, in a low voice of suppressed feeling. When 
 he began to speak Lillian had arisen, and looked at 
 him with a look of wild terror and despair in the eyes 
 that were fastened in a sort of fascination upon him. 
 As a sense of her danger came to her, as she realized 
 how powerless she was in the grasp of this villain, her 
 face became livid and her whole frame quivered with 
 fright. She knew if she shrieked for help her voice 
 would be lost in the roaring of the waters below her. 
 Should she appeal to him to let her go in peace her 
 way while he pursued his without an attempt on her 
 part ever to molest him ? Should she kneel before him 
 as she had never knelt to a human being and plead 
 for her life, her honor, her safety? Would there be 
 
168 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 any use in thus humbling herself? She looked into 
 the face of the man who stood in his well assumed 
 disguise before her to see if there was any mercy tc 
 be hoped from him. His face was pitiless. A cruel, 
 triumphant smile played upon the lips that were utter- 
 ing words which she heard as one hears not, so busy 
 was her mind with thinking of escape. But as he 
 uttered the last low, pleading words, advanced nearer 
 and held out his arms to her, there was an instan- 
 taneous change in her. The words and manner 
 aroused in her all the dignity of her offended nature. 
 Like a lioness at bay she would defend herself as an 
 an outraged woman should. Eaising herself to hei 
 full height, with one hand extended heavenward, with 
 sparkling eyes, with dilated nostrils, with an expres- 
 sion in which scorn and anger shone, she said in a 
 firm voice that rang out clearly on the damp evening 
 air: 
 
 " Walter Brunette, perfidious traitor, how dare you 
 utter such words to me who have been so long the 
 victim of your relentless cruelty ? Had you one atom 
 of manhood left you would be ashamed to open your 
 lips in the presence of one you have so cruelly 
 wronged. How dare you speak of marriage to one 
 whose noble husband you cowardly murdered ? When 
 you, like an arrant coward, sought to kill him with 
 me by his side, and I thought he was dead, I swooned 
 and was ill for months. During that sickness all my 
 hair came out and this white hair came in its place, 
 the effect of your wickedness, a testimonial of the love 
 I bore my husband. Can you for one moment imagine 
 I would marry his slayer, who took advantage of him 
 in the darkness and sent him to his fate ? Never ! 
 Never! Never! Rather, a thousand times rather, 
 would I share his fate and die like him, than live to 
 
SAD, SAD FATE 
 
 169 
 
 dishonor him and myself by a union with you," and 
 she gazed defiantly into the steel blue eyes of the 
 man who gazed with insolent admiration upon her. 
 She drew back slightly and continued: 
 
 "Kill me if you will, and throw me, as you did my 
 husband, over the precipice. But do not touch me— 
 don't dare put your hand on me," and she drew back 
 her queenly figure, lest he profane her with a touch 
 of his hand. 
 
 Never had Lillian looked more beautiful than she 
 did now in the full majesty of her insulted woman- 
 hood. Brunette had never seen her in such a role, 
 but he had never seen her driven to such desperation. 
 Instead of being shamed by her words, he only lookec 
 at her fondly, exultingty. He could not give up this 
 superb creature, for whom he had dared so much and 
 who was now so completely in his power. She had es- 
 caped him once— she could not escape him now. How 
 her beauty burned into his very soul ! He could with 
 difficulty repress the impulse to catch her to his breasi 
 and kiss away the disdainful expression that lurked 
 on the sweet lips, so like twin rose-buds. But he did 
 resist the impulse and said quietly : 
 
 "Calm yourself, my lovely tragedy queen. You 
 have fine histr ionic talents that would bring you the 
 plaudits of admiring thousands were you on the stage, 
 but you have but me to act for and it is getting too 
 dark for me to take it in fully. Calm yourself, my 
 love, and yield to the inexorable fate that decrees 
 you shall be mine— mine— 'to have and to hold till 
 death do us part.' You know you are absolutely in 
 my power. Say but one word, dearest, and ere the 
 town clock strikes again you will be mine. ' One step 
 nearer he came, with out-stretched hand— almost near 
 enough to touch her. She sprang back suddenly to 
 the very verge of the precipice. Earth and stones 
 
no 
 
 LILLIAN I>eVERE 
 
 rattled away under her feet, but she, in her excite- 
 ment, did not heed them. A fragment of rock fol- 
 lowed. She felt something slipping beneath her feet. 
 For one moment she struggled to gain ground. Bru- 
 nette, realizing her danger, sprang forward to rescue: 
 her. She threw out her arms to ward him off and 
 went over the cliff. With the instinct of self-preser- 
 vation she clutched at the sides of the cliff for some 
 support. She caught something that held her a sec- 
 ond, then she found it giving way under her weight, 
 and she fell a short distance lower and seized a spui 
 of rock on the side of the cliff. For another second 
 or two she felt herself suspended in mid-air. She 
 heard a voice calling to her from above and looking 
 up saw a pale, agonized face leaning over the preci- 
 pice and heard the words : 
 
 ' 6 Hold on for your life. I will try to rescue you. ' ' 
 The words, instead of reassuring her, seemed to take 
 away what little of strength she had left. She let 
 go and went to her fate. 
 
 When Brunette, who had entertained the idea oJ 
 descending the precipice to attempt the rescue of the 
 woman whom he loved so madly, looked over the brink 
 ere he began the dangerous descent and could descry 
 nothing save the foaming waters, could hear nothing 
 save the angry surging of the billows as they broke 
 against the rocks beneath, he became almost wild with 
 grief and disappointment. To lose her when he was 
 so sure of her almost bereft him of reason and he 
 strode back and forth, trying to calm the tumult that 
 raged within. 
 
AFTER EVENTS 
 
 111 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AFTER EVENTS. 
 
 About two months before the tragic event described 
 in the last chapter, Lillian had sat at an open window 
 of the Villa, gazing out with a very thoughtful look 
 upon her fair face. Just a short time before she had 
 learned of the death of a lady who, after partaking 
 of a hearty breakfast and seemingly as well as pos- 
 sible, had died suddenly on arising from the table. 
 When Lillian heard this she was aroused out of her 
 usual composure by asking herself: 
 
 ^Suppose that lady had been I? Auntie had 
 seemed as w r ell as usual and had passed away in the 
 night apparently without a struggle. I am as likely 
 to die as they and if I should die now I should be 
 buried among strangers and under an assumed name. ' ' 
 Mr. Monroe was the only person in the world who 
 knew r all her history and the role she was playing, 
 and she had bound him up to absolute secrecy about 
 her affairs. Even her lawyers, believing she was still 
 in New York, sent her money there and this, and such 
 letters as were written to her on business by them, 
 were sent to her by Mrs. Archer, a friend with whom 
 she boarded while in Ne/w York, and to whom she 
 had partially confided her history. She must pro- 
 vide for the emergency of sudden death and let every- 
 thing be done decently and in order, as should become 
 the mistress of the Hall. She must plainly express 
 her last wishes that she might feel assured in life 
 they would be carried out at her death— a consola- 
 tion most of us like to have. She was pondering on 
 
172 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 these things that bright morning, whose golden beams 
 were flooding every object with glory, and life seemed 
 to call her thoughts from anything so dark and serious 
 as death. But Lillian saw as one who sees not the 
 loveliness of nature, and after awhile a look of decision 
 took the place of the far-away expression. Arising 
 she procured writing materials and was soon rapidly 
 filling the pure white pages with marks from her pen. 
 Mrs. Marxman wondered what she was writing about 
 and to whom she was writing. The lady found every 
 day something about Madame to wonder at. Once 
 she had wondered aloud that Madame received and 
 wrote so few letters. Madame had replied quietly that 
 she had no relative in the world of whose existence 
 she knew and she had but few friends with whom she 
 wished to correspond—that the few letters she wrote 
 were on business. So this morning it was not strange 
 she should wonder to whom such a Jong letter was 
 being written. 
 
 When Lillian had finished and re-read it, she sealed 
 it carefully, then writing these words on a piece of 
 paper, "Messrs. Budd and Anderson, 0—. Come at 
 once to Queen's Beach on important business," she 
 handed the paper to Mrs. Marxman and said : 
 
 ' ' Mrs. Marxman, if I should die suddenly, or should 
 lose my life by accident, when you are fully assured 
 of my death, send the telegram on that paper to the 
 parties mentioned and when a stranger shall appear, 
 bearing the name of either gentleman, deliver into his 
 hand this letter which I shall put in my desk, the 
 key of which I shall deposit in this tiny drawer out- 
 side, in which I keep my stamps." Mrs. Marxman, 
 awe-struck at the serious face turned to her, had made 
 the promise, little dreaming there would ever be any 
 occasion for its fulfillment. 
 
AFTER EVENTS 
 
 173 
 
 Never had the little town been thrown into greater 
 excitement and grief than by Madame ? s sad fate 
 as announced and described by Mr. Reynolds, whose 
 sorrow and excitement were intense. A boat was 
 speedily procured and some, from admiration and 
 sympathy for the beautiful woman, and some incited 
 by the hope of winning the large reward that Mr. 
 Reynolds had offered for her rescue or the recovery 
 of the body, set out on the raging waters. Those 
 most accustomed to the dangers of the ocean said no 
 boat could live in such a sea and warned those who 
 entered against attempting anything so dangerous, 
 but Mr. Reynolds seized an oar and under his strokes 
 the boat went rapidly forward. It was soon found 
 however, that the attempt meant only death to those 
 who were fool-hardy enough to proceed, for the boat 
 was in momentary danger of capsizing and plunging 
 its occupants into a watery grave. Mr. Reynolds was 
 the last to give up hope and seemed not to hear when 
 it was deemed necessary to return. He only kept his 
 place and rowed on with renewed vigor, but at lasl 
 the men assured him they were unwilling to go fur- 
 ther. Without a word, but with a groan that seemed 
 to come from a broken heart, he threw down the oar 
 in despair and buried his face in his hands. He dis- 
 appeared from the Beach that night and nothing 
 more was ever heard of Mr. Reynolds. The news of 
 Madame 's death had produced the greatest grief and 
 consternation at the Villa. Mr. Reynolds had told 
 that he and Madame had stood viewing the grandeur 
 of the ocean. Absorbed in the view neither had 
 noticed how near the brink of the cliff they were, until 
 Madame ? s foot had suddenly slipped, displacing a 
 fragment of rock upon which she stood and ere he 
 could recover himself sufficiently to seize her she had 
 
174 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 fallen over the precipice. Madame had ^een greatly 
 beloved by all the servants and Mrs. Marxman was 
 almost beside herself with grief. She had lost the 
 best home she had ever had and it was a sad loss to 
 a poor, dependent woman. 
 
 In the midst of her sorrow she remembered hei 
 promise to Madame, made two months before, and. 
 producing the telegram, she had taken it to the tele- 
 graph office and asked the operator to direct the 
 the person who should answer it to the Villa on his 
 arrival. A short time after the morning train came, 
 a tall, elderly gentleman, dressed in professional black 
 and with a dignified, professional air about him, pre- 
 sented himself at the Villa, sending in his card, u Wm. 
 G. Anderson." From those congregated at the depot 
 he had learned something of the death of the French 
 lady by drowning the night before. He had heard 
 them say a boat had sought the place at the foot of 
 the cliff to which the lady had fallen and had found 
 on a raft of drift wood a tiny lace handkerchief with 
 the name "Lillian" on it, and a bunch of keys, but 
 nothing more could be learned. He had wondered 
 in a professional way how he could be connected with 
 the death of this mysterious stranger, of whom noth- 
 ing was known but her name. She must have left a 
 will bequeathing her property to her relatives in 
 France, and having heard in some way of his firm had 
 entrusted it to their care-— a very wise proceeding, he 
 had thought, as he ascended the steps of the Villa 
 and noted the elegant taste and beauty of the sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 Opening the letter Mrs. Marxman at once presented 
 to him, he began to read it with mingled curiosity and 
 interest. As he read a look of the deepest astonish- 
 ment came into his face and this was superseded by 
 
AFTER EVENTS 
 
 175 
 
 a look of great sadness. When he had finished he said 
 aloud : 
 
 "What an untimely end; what a sad close to a life 
 that promised so much happiness but which, alas ! was 
 one of almost unprecedented sorrow and trouble." 
 Mr. Anderson went himself to the top of the cliff and 
 saw the fragment of stone dislodged that had sent 
 to her doom the beautiful women he had known so 
 long and respected so highly. In the letter she had 
 written that when the letter was put in his hands 
 she would be dead, and she wished him, without tell- 
 ing her sad story to anyone, to have her body carried 
 to the Hall and buried by the side of her husband 
 and a monument similar to his erected to her mem- 
 ory. She wished everything to be very quietly done, 
 that there might be no emblazoning in the papers the 
 sad events connected with her life and death. She 
 left a little bequest to Mrs. Marxman and all the serv- 
 ants, which was to be paid with the money she should 
 leave in her desk. Among her papers Mr. Anderson 
 found a will made while in New York. In this she 
 ordered that an advertisement be put in all the lead- 
 ing papers of the country for any heirs of the Nelson 
 family, and if they should prove their claim, however 
 distant the relationship, the entire estate should be 
 theirs. In case none should be found in a quarter 
 of a century the whole estate which Robert had left 
 to her in fee simple was to go to such charitable in- 
 stitutions as those who had charge should deem best. 
 Every effort was made to recover the body, but failing, 
 all other directions were carefully and quietly carried 
 out as she had desired. A tall monument, bearing her 
 name, date of birth and death, was placed at the side 
 of the one which had been erected to her husband. 
 Mrs. Coles and all who had known and loved the sweet, 
 gentle mistress of the Hall, shed many tears over 
 
176 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 her death, and the grand old home settled down to 
 greater grief and loneliness than it had ever known. 
 Superstitious people shook their heads as they spoke 
 in whispers of the old Squire 's curse falling upon even 
 the first-born. The first weekly edition of the " Beach 
 Nut" gave a very touching account of the death of 
 the beautiful and mysterious stranger, who had so 
 greatly endeared herself to all by her remarkable 
 beauty and grace of manner. The excessive grief of 
 Mr. Reynolds was commented upon, which wove a very 
 sad but interesting romance around the memory of 
 one whose untimely death had thrown such gloom over 
 the whole community. 
 
WHAT DAVID FOUND 
 
 177 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WHAT DAVID FOUND. 
 
 David Kelly was a good fisherman. He caught his 
 fish and took them to Otley, a little town two miles 
 inland. There were two mills there in active opera- 
 tion at which several hundred hands worked. The 
 mill hands had found out that David was honest and 
 reliable, kind in disposition and reasonable in his 
 price, so he had no difficulty in disposing of his fish 
 and managed by industry and economy to make a 
 livelihood for his little family. One morning he 
 awoke very early and arose at once. The sea had been 
 quite rough the day before and this had interfered 
 with his plying his occupation. When he went to the 
 door of his cabin and listened he knew by the sound, 
 to which he had so long been accustomed, that the 
 ocean was calm again. He aroused his wife, saying : 
 
 " Hannah, make haste and get up and get us some 
 breakfast and enough to last us all day. ' Old Boss' is 
 all right again," then, putting his head in the door 
 of one of the shed rooms, he called out : 
 
 "Get up, Silas, 'Old Boss' is as quiet as a lamb 
 again and we must make up for its raging so yester- 
 day. We didn't make our salt. Get up at once and 
 help me bale the water out'n the boat, while Han* 
 nah ? s getting breakfast. ' ' 
 
 Silas Dean was Dave's hired man. Dave proceeded 
 to light his lantern and went out to feed the horse 
 and cow, while Silas helped Hannah by bringing the 
 water and wood. The frugal meal was quickly pre- 
 pared, for Hannah was indeed a helpmeet to her hus- 
 band, who loved her in his simple way better even 
 
178 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 than when he married her, a bonny girl ten years 
 before, for was she not the mother of his children and 
 as such worthy of more love for their sakes ? he argued. 
 
 " Where's Hetty?' 7 Dave asked at breakfast. 
 "Why didn't you call her up to help you, Hannah?" 
 
 "Because," Hannah replied, "Hetty worked on the 
 machine so hard yesterday and so late last night and 
 was so tired I wanted her to rest this morning, as 
 we won't be very busy today and can get the sewing 
 done in plenty of time for you to carry it tomorrow. ' ' 
 
 Dave smiled and said: "I'm afraid you'll spoil 
 Hetty —you 're so good you spoil us all, wife." 
 
 "No, no, Dave," was the quiet reply. "Hetty is 
 not easy to spoil. She's always ready and willing to 
 do anything I want her to and for that reason I 'm not 
 willing to impose on her any more than I would if 
 she was my own sister, you know. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, we know you wouldn't impose on anything 
 or anybody, Hannah," he said kindly as he rose fronj, 
 the table. Kissing the little boy and girl that were 
 sleeping quietly in the little trundle bed, he said 
 cheerily : 
 
 "Well, good-by, Hannah. You needn't look for us 
 until we get our baskets full, and I don't know when 
 that'll be— there's no telling, you know." Soon the 
 boat was speeding over the waters, lighted by the lan- 
 tern which was held alternately by David and Silas, to 
 allow the other to rest. They were making for ' c Skin- 
 ner 's Pint," as the fishermen called it, which was a 
 noted fishing-place. It was still so dark nothing could 
 be discerned save by the glimmering light of the lan- 
 tern, which Silas held above his head, that it might 
 send its light as far out as possible. All at once he 
 asked excitedly: 
 
 "Mr. Kelly, what's that?" 
 
 "What?" asked David, who was busy rowing. 
 
WHAT DAVID FOUND 
 
 179 
 
 4 ' That yonder at the foot of the cliff. It looks like 
 somebody dead, Avith long white hair, lying on the 
 drift-wood. 5 ' 
 
 "No, 'taint, I reckon," Dave answered carelessly. 
 "It's jest the foam on the wood that gathers there 
 such a day as yesterday, but we'll row there and see. 
 'Taint much out'n the way." They soon reached the 
 spot and saw to their great surprise and horror the 
 body of a woman stretched on a raft of drift-wood, 
 her white hair hanging in tangled masses about the 
 face which, upturned, was pale and white as death. 
 The men gazed awe-stricken upon it. 
 
 "She's a pretty cretur, shore you'se born. Come, 
 Silas, help me up with her. ' ' 
 
 "What you goin' to do?" asked Silas, with a pale, 
 scared look on his usually stolid face. 
 
 "Why, man, I'm goin' to carry her home. Ef all 
 the life ain't out'n her, Hannah will bring her 'round. 
 Ef she's dead we will give her a decent burial, poor 
 thing!" 
 
 Tenderly the two men took up the body, so appar- 
 ently lifeless, her garments saturated with the spray 
 of sea-water that had dashed against the raft upon 
 which she lay. Dave wrapped her closely in his over- 
 coat, which he always carried in case of rain or change 
 of weather, and with her head in his lap he told Silas 
 to get home as soon as possible, he in the meantime 
 chafing with his rough hand the delicate brow and soft 
 shapely hands of the woman whose body was lying so 
 pale and motionless at his feet. Hannah, in the mean- 
 time, had milked the cow, fixed the milk to churn, 
 had made the bed, swept the floor and was hurrying 
 to get her room cleaned up before Hetty and the chil- 
 dren woke, when, on going to the door, she saw, in 
 the dim light, two men approaching apparently bear- 
 
180 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 ing a burden between them. It looked like Dave and 
 Silas. 
 
 What could it mean? Throwing down the broom 
 with which she had come out to sweep the steps, she 
 ran to meet the men, whom she knew, as they drew 
 nearer, were her husband and Silas. Dave quickly 
 told her all he knew of the body they bore and said, 
 "Run, Hannah, as quick as you can, and put some 
 rugs and a pillow on the floor before the fire; she's 
 wet and cold, if not entirely dead, and I'll go for 
 Dr. Ashley at once. Make up a big fire and get the 
 sperits. ■ 9 Hannah hurried back and by the time they 
 arrived at the cabin everything had been prepared. 
 
 "Oh, how young and pretty, Dave," Hannah ex- 
 claimed, as she saw the white, sweet face so death-like 
 in its pallor. Dave wet the pale lips with the spirits, 
 and then with directions to his wife for her and Hetty 
 to change the wet garments for dry ones, he set out 
 on the horse Silas had saddled, for Dr. Ashley, who 
 lived a mile away on the road to Otley. After chafing 
 the face and hands with tears in her kindly eyes, Han- 
 nah went to the steps and called out : 
 
 "Hetty, Hetty, come down quick. I want you right 
 away. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," was the ready answer, and a few 
 minutes after Hetty, a bright, pretty girl of seven- 
 teen, Dave's sister, who lived with them and helped 
 Hannah sew for the mill hands, appeared. Hannah 
 met her at the foot of the stair and told her of the 
 lovely stranger, apparently dead, lying so cold and pale 
 in the next room. Hetty listened with wide-open eyes, 
 and almost before "Sister" stopped her recital, had 
 gone on tip-toe to the room. With mingled curiosity 
 and sadness she gazed at the beautiful woman. 
 
 "Oh, sister," she said, in an awe-struck whisper, 
 "she is dead, and oh, so pretty! so very pretty!" 
 
WHAT DAVID FOUND 181 
 
 At first Hetty shrunk, with a young person's nat- 
 ural fear of death, from the task of helping Hannah 
 take off the dainty, wet garments, and replacing them 
 with the clean, coarse dry garments of Hetty, who 
 was about the lady's size, but she never shirked duty, 
 however disagreeable. 
 
 "Oh, sister, here is a name on the clothing. 'Lil- 
 lian, ' is on every one of them, and how fine and nice 
 they are. What a pretty little foot, sister. Do you 
 think she could have jumped from the cliff or did she 
 fall, you reckon? Her soft white hands are torn as 
 if she tried to catch," then a few minutes after she 
 exclaimed, excitedly: 
 
 "Oh, sister, I think I saw her lid quiver. Oh, sis- 
 ter, she isn't dead. Oh, I wish the doctor would come ! 
 I believe he could bring her to life. Didn't you see it, 
 sister ? ' ' Hannah replied : "I thought I saw a slight 
 quiver, but it may have been the flickering fire-light. ' ' 
 Dr. Ashley made his appearance with Dave, who had 
 found him about to set out for Otley. After, a care- 
 ful examination of the body he said he didn't think 
 life was entirely extinct, but it was so nearly so 
 he thought it extremely doubtful about arousing it. 
 As Hetty sat at the lady's head stroking gently the 
 silken locks, she said suddenly: 
 
 ' ' Oh, doctor, there is blood on her hair, look here ! ' ' 
 Certainly there was, and on lifting the thick, white 
 mass a deep scar, made by some sharp object upon 
 which she had fallen, was disclosed clotted with blood. 
 
 "Ah," Dr. Ashley said; "that's an ugly gash, so 
 near the brain, and accounts for the deep swoon. ' ' It 
 was carefully washed and treated, after the surround- 
 ing hair had all been cut off the small, shapely head, 
 giving it a very peculiar appearance. Dr. Ashley 
 stayed nearly all day, leaving no effort untried to 
 
182 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 arouse the little spark of life that showed itself occa- 
 sionally in theslightest flutter of the pulse or a scarcely 
 perceptible quiver of the lids or lips. The doctor said 
 the limbs must be chafed with spirits and the lips 
 moistened with it. If she was alive the next day when 
 he came there would be some hope of restoration. 
 
AT THE FISHERMAN'S HUT 188 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 AT THE FISHERMAN 's HUT. 
 
 About dark, much to Hannah's relief, Mrs. Ashley 
 came to spend the night and help nurse the lady. Dr. 
 Ashley, who had to go to a very sick patient at Otley, 
 had stopped a few minutes at home to tell his wife 
 about the strange lady who lay so near death's door 
 at the cabin. Her interest was at once awakened. 
 She was a true physician's wife, loving his profession 
 scarcely less than he did, feeling a deep interest in all 
 his patients. Often, before so many children came to 
 her home to claim her attention, she had been installed 
 as nurse in the sick room of persons who needed care- 
 ful nursing more than medicine, and by her unremit- 
 ting care and tact as a nurse had done more for their 
 recovery than her husband had done by his skill. She 
 was, indeed, his able coadjutor in his work, for he told 
 her all about his sick people and acted often on the 
 practical advice she gave in regard to their cases- 
 Hannah knew her most gratefully as a good nurse, 
 for when little Ben, their eight-year old boy, was a 
 wee baby, Mrs. Ashley had helped her nurse him 
 through a long illness back to life, when even the doc- 
 tor had despaired. When Hannah saw Mrs. Ashley 
 she went out to meet her and said: 
 
 6 ' Oh, Mrs. Ashley, I am so glad you have come. I 
 have been praying God as fervently as I knew how 
 to spare the lady, and now you have come I feel He 
 will answer me." Mrs. Ashley smiled at the earnest 
 face and manner of the woman, whom she respected 
 highly for her sterling qualities of head and heart. 
 Though humble in station, she was some of the salt 
 
184 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERIS 
 
 of the earth that had not lost its savor. After giving 
 some parting directions to Kalph, her handsome first- 
 born, who had driven her, and ending with, "Tell 
 Miss Pansy to take good care of baby and I will 
 return with your father when he comes tomor- 
 row," she went with Hannah into the cabin and gazed 
 with intense interest at the still pale face with its 
 exquisitely delicate features that looked now as if they 
 were chiseled in marble. Anxiously she felt for the 
 pulse, fearing lest life had already fled, but a little 
 flutter showed a little life still remained and while 
 there is life, however little, there is hope, however 
 slight. All night the two women watched and waited, 
 taking turns in chafing the limbs with brandy, moisten- 
 ing the lips with the wine Mrs. Ashley had brought. 
 There seemed no change until about day, the lips some- 
 times opened and muttered incoherent words— the fig- 
 ure moved slightly. When Dr. Ashley came, early the 
 next morning, he gave some hope of recovery if 
 brain fever did not result. The next evening as Han- 
 nah sat by the bed-side sewing, a slight movement of 
 the body attracted her attention from the button- 
 holes she was working. A glance showed her a pair 
 of large, dark eyes, the most beautiful she had ever 
 seen, fixed upon her with something like reason in 
 them, but oh, so wild and pathetic in their expres- 
 sion! Hanah bent over and said softly: "You are 
 better!" A strange look full of pleading came into 
 the eyes and Hannah bent to catch the words. 
 
 "Hide me; please hide me, and don't let anyone 
 know where I am. He will find me, and I'd rather 
 die. Hide me; oh, hide me." At the last words she 
 sprang up and seemed about to jump from the bed, 
 but Hannah's firm hands placed her back on her pil- 
 low, while she soothed her with gentle words as she 
 would have done a frightened child. When the doetor 
 
AT THE PISHERMA^^S QXJT IU 
 
 was told of this and her increased restlessness, and 
 the ceasless tossing of the head from side to side, 
 when he neard words of entreaty, of anger, of scorn 
 on the lips that had been so still, he shook his head 
 very gravely and said: 
 
 * 4 Some exciting experience, together with the con- 
 cussion upon her head, has produced brain fever, 
 which is more difficult to cope with than the long stu- 
 por into wnich she first fell. I feared thisL It will 
 be hard on you and your family, Mrs. Kelly. If I 
 could, I would remove her to my homo, but she is too 
 ill now to think of that Nora is deeply interested in 
 the lady, and will help you all she can, and I, ; of 
 course, will give her all the time and care I can spare 
 from my other patients." 
 
 "Oh, doctor," Hannah said, "if she will only live, 
 we are willing to do all we can for her, and doctor, I 
 promised her we would keep her secret and not let 
 anybody know she is here. Help me to keep that 
 promise. I think she must have fled from an unkind 
 husband whom she fears, and, it may be his cruelty 
 drove her to cast herself from the cliff." 
 
 Dr. Ashley said thoughtfully: "I do not think 
 she jumped from the cliff with the intention of sui- 
 cide. If so, she would either have been drowned at 
 once, or the fall from such a height on the driftwood 
 would have killed her. She must have slipped over 
 and broken the fall by catching at some objects on the 
 side of the cliff. You notice her hands are torn 
 as if by contact with something rough, probably a 
 spur of the cliff. 1 ' 
 
 Hannah said: "I hope she didn't intend to kill her- 
 self—she is so beautifoU and seems to have suffered 
 so much. " 
 
 The next day the lady was no better. Sometimes 
 it took Dave, Hannah and Hetty to keep her on the 
 
186' ; MLLIA& DeVERE 
 
 bed, so anxious was she to flee from some impending 
 danger. When not violet, she would toss her head in- 
 cessantly and moan as if in great pain, but there 
 was no consciousness in the wild eyes when open 
 — nothing to show she realized the pain she felt. 
 
 One morning Dr. Ashley called for the scissors, and 
 while Hannah and Hetty stood tearfully by, cut off 
 all the silken hair close to her head. He had said 
 when Hetty begged him not to cut off the pretty hair : 
 
 " It must be done to relieve the fevered brain of 
 its weight. Besides, if she recovers, which seems very 
 improbable now, it would come out anyway. It is 
 undoubtedly the most peculiar hair I ever saw on the 
 head of a grown person, especially one with such 
 dark eyes, lashes and brow. It is more like the first 
 white silken locks of infancy. 7 ' 
 
 There w r ere many weary days of waiting and 
 watching to the ininates of the cabin and Dr. Ashley 
 and his wife, all of whom took the deepest interest in 
 their charge. In her delirium she had made them 
 realize something of the many troubles that had 
 fallen into her life. Of course, they could not con- 
 nect her words enough to give any idea of who she 
 was or how she had suffered, but they knew she had 
 suffered deeply, and from no fault of her own. 
 
 Strangely enough, Dr. Ashley, who was the attend- 
 ant physician of the millhands, among whom there 
 was much sickness, did not hear anyone speak of the 
 account in the Beach-Nut of Madame Florine's death 
 or he would have suspected the identity of the stran- 
 ger to that lady. Living apart from the world, busy 
 with his own duties, he knew little of what was going 
 on outside of his own circumscribed sphere. So Lil- 
 lian \s secret was kept as securely as she would have 
 wished had she been conscious. Slowly she came back 
 to life, but so slowly as scarcely to be perceptible 
 
AT THE FISHERMAN'S HUT 
 
 181 
 
 even to those who watched her so closely and were 
 so anxious for her improvement. 
 
 The spirit that had hovered so long on the confines 
 of time and eternity, fluttered feebly its wings first to 
 the time side, then to the eternity side, leaving them 
 in doubt as to which it would finally take its flight. 
 But she lived. Someone has said that Nature occa- 
 sionally performs miracles for the purpose of dem- 
 onstrating the possibility of the impossible. It 
 seemed so, indeed, in this case. 
 
 Lillian had been at the cabin nearly two months 
 before the light of reason came to her. Sometimes 
 there had been a gleam of consciousness as the eyes 
 sought inquiringly the faces of those about ner, but 
 before her scattered senses could collect themselves 
 she had sunk back into unconsciousness. But one 
 morning when Hannah was very busy helping Hetty 
 to get the sewing of the mill-hands done for the com- 
 ing holidays next week, she left Lillian apparently 
 sleeping and went into the next room. On her return 
 she saw the large, dark eyes watching her curiously, 
 as she sat by the side of the bed. There was a light 
 in them she had never seen there before. 
 
 "Will you tell me where I am?" asked a very soft, 
 low voice. 
 
 A smile of delight beamed from Hannah's kindly 
 face as she answered: "With friends, my dear lady, 
 who have befriended you in your need." 
 
 "You won't betray me to my enemy, will you?" 
 was asked eagerly. 
 
 - ' Oh, no, indeed ; we all love you too much to allow 
 anyone to do you any harm." 
 
 ■ ' Love me ? Who loves me?" again asked the sweet 
 voice. 
 
 "Oh, we all here, and the doctor and his wife." 
 
188 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 "The doctor? Have I been sick?" she inquired, as 
 if in surprise. 
 
 "Oh, yes, ma'am, very sick, but you are much bet- 
 ter now. It is time for your medicine. You must 
 take it and try to sleep. 7 ' 
 
 She swallowed the medicine mechanically as she 
 had taken all medicine and nourishment for so many 
 weeks. But consciousness had come now, and it was 
 not easy to sleep. As in a dream, she began to watch 
 those about ner, to wonder why she was there. 
 
 As the days and weeks passed, and she gained phy- 
 sical strength, minel and memory gradually asserted 
 their former power and, by degrees, she learned the 
 events that had transpired. She knew she had again 
 almost miraculously escaped Walter Brunette's 
 power. He and her few friends believed her dead. 
 Sh£ was glad of this. She could elude her foe now 
 surely, for the world was too big for them to cross 
 each other's path again. She made no plans for the 
 future except that she must no longer tax the hospi- 
 tality of the family whose great kindness and care 
 she so greatly appreciated. 
 
 One morning she awoke, and opening her eyes sud- 
 denly, smiled at the sweet picture she saw. By the 
 side of her bed, very still, stood Ben and Ruthie, Ben 
 with a little tin w^gon to which a tin horse was har- 
 nessed, in his hand, and Ruthie hugging closely to 
 her a little china doll. They were looking upon her 
 with their bright, earnest faces a little subdued. 
 They had crept on tiptoe to the bedside. Perhaps 
 the pale face awed them. Lillian held out her thin, 
 transparent hand in welcome and said : * ' Good morn- 
 mg," very sweetly. 
 
 The children smiled and returned the good morn- 
 ing, and Ben said: "We came to show you what 
 Santa Claus brought us. Sister hm such a pretty doll 
 
AT THE FISHERMAN'S HUT 189 
 
 and I have a nice wagon, and we have some candy 
 and apples, too. Won't you have some?" and they 
 held out their dainties to her— dainties at least to 
 them, doubly acceptable because Santa Claus had 
 brought tnem. 
 
 Lillian never forgot that picture. In after years, 
 when she arranged the yearly Xmas box for the 
 children, with many useful gifts for the older mem- 
 bers of the family packed in, too, she recalled it with 
 pleasure and loved to think of the enjoyment the 
 advent of the box would give to the dear little boy 
 and girl who had so few gifts, but who could keenly 
 appreciate those that came to them. 
 
 One bright evening in February she was sitting in 
 an easy chair Dr. Ashley had brought her, looking 
 out of the back window. They wouldn't let her get 
 a view of the sea yet, lest it might excite her. She 
 was learning to walk again. When they first led her 
 to her seat at the window, the doctor and Hannah had 
 so greatly assisted her she did not realize her weak- 
 ness. A few days after she tried to return to the 
 bed by her own strength, and had to slide to the floor 
 to prevent herself from falling. Hannah found her 
 there, and begged her never to attempt it again until 
 she became stronger. When one day she had walked 
 across the room unassisted, Hannah was as proud as 
 of Ben or Ruthie's first steps. On this evening she 
 felt stronger, and hearing the children's voices in the 
 front yard, she walked slowly to the front window, 
 drew back the chintz curtains and gazed out. The 
 sea lay before her. It was very placid now, very un- 
 like it was when she had seen it last. 
 
 Just then Ben and Ruth came into sight, and their 
 bright young faces and interest in their sport took 
 her mind from the sadder subjects. Ben was riding 
 Ruthie's little doll in his little tin wagon. How 
 
190 
 
 LILLIAN DeVBRE 
 
 happy they looked in this innocent glee as Ben, who 
 was acting horse, would caper and prance, toss his 
 head and then run along, overturning the doll, which 
 seemed not to be worsted by her rude treatment. 
 \ No one would have recognized in this thin, pale, 
 hollow-eyed woman with her head covered with its 
 short black hair that was rapidly replacing the white 
 silken tresses, the brilliantly beautiful Madame Flor- 
 ine of a few months previous. She was so absorbed in 
 watching the children she did not note Dr. and Mrs. 
 Ashley's entrance, and was surprised when Mrs. Ash- 
 ley spoke to her. She smiled at her with that rare, 
 sweet, sad smile that Mrs. Ashley said affected her 
 more than other people's tears. She smiled back a 
 bright, happy smile as she said : 
 
 4 ' You are much better to-day ?" 
 
 1 i Oh, yes," Lillian replied brightly in return, "so 
 well I have been thinking to-day and have decided to 
 ask a favor of you. Will you and Dr. Ashley take 
 me to board with you a few months until I get strong 
 enough to make my plans for the future? I am 
 aware this is a great favor to ask of you by one of 
 whom you know nothing, but I can assure you that 
 while I have been unfortunate, rendered so by the 
 cruelty of one who has crossed my life and thrown the 
 darkest, deepest sorrows in it, yet there is no reason 
 why you should not receive me into your home as an 
 equal, as you will know when I tell you my history, a 
 task to which I am unequal yet. Till then will you 
 trust me ? I feel I cannot longer tax the hospitality 
 and kindness of these good people.'' 
 
 When she finished Mrs. Ashley said laughingly: 
 "Now, that's right strange. Dr. and I came over this 
 evening to invite you home with us, and you have 
 gotten ahead of us. We brought the carriage to take 
 you back, as we had no idea of letting you refuse us." 
 
AT THE FISHERMAN'S HUT 
 
 1.91 
 
 Satisfactory arrangements were soon made for Lil- 
 lian's departure. Everybody at the cabin parted 
 with her with many regrets. They had learned to 
 love her very dearly, and felt that they were part- 
 ing with a true, good friend, as she ever afterwards 
 proved. Ben and Ruthie clung about her neck and 
 would not be comforted until she had promised Ben a 
 wagon large enough to pull Ruthie in, and Ruth was 
 to have a doll that could cry and go to sleep. Hannah 
 and Hetty watched the carriage as long as they could 
 see it, and then Hetty said with tears: 
 
 " Sister, we will miss her so much. Our home will 
 never be like it was before she came, for she is so beau- 
 tiful, so gentle and so sweet, she made it pretty just 
 like a pretty picture." 
 
* 
 
 m LILLIAN IteVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 WITH HER NEW FRIENDS. 
 
 One beautiful, bright summer morning, when Lil- 
 lian had been at Dr. Ashley's about two months, the 
 doctor stood at an open window watching her flitting 
 among the flowers with the children, admiring with 
 them the floral bloom and fragrance of the yard. She 
 looked very lovely in her dainty white morning dress. 
 The quiet of this congenial home and the pure coun- 
 try air, with enough of the sea to make it still more 
 beneficial, had restored her to almost her accustomed 
 health and strength. Her cheeks had rounded and 
 resumed their delicate color. The sweet lips looked 
 again like twin rosebuds, and little dark silken curls 
 clustered where for so long the white hair had held 
 its sway, giving the face its former youthful expres- 
 sion and radiant beauty. 
 
 When she had first come to herself, in her weakness 
 of mind and body, she had almost regretted she had 
 not gone out of the life that had been so sad and 
 lonely for so many years, and into which Walter 
 Brunette, who stili lived, had brought so much bitter- 
 ness. What had she to live for, pursued as she should 
 ever be by fear of this man who had so often crossed 
 her life and thrown his dark shadows over what peace 
 she had been enabled to find in existence ? ' c It would 
 have been better to have died," she thought, but with 
 renewed health and strength came healthier ideas 
 and feelings—came the natural desire to 1 'bear the 
 ills we have rather than fly to those we know not of," 
 and she was glad now she had not found a watery 
 
WITH HER NEW FRIENDS 193 
 
 grave ; thankful to God that He had preserved her life, 
 and that, in her need she had found such true friends. 
 It would be a pleasure to live to brighten the lives of 
 those about her— to help with her means the inmates 
 of the humble cabin to whom under heaven she owed 
 her life. Yes, it was good yet to live and feel the 
 health and blood flow in her veins and with a capacity 
 to enjoy the beauties of the world with its many 
 attractions. Lillian was enjoying this lovely morn- 
 ing and a smile was on her lips and a light in her 
 dark, expressive eyes, that had lost some of the sad- 
 ness that for several years had found a lurking place 
 there. Dr. Ashley, watching her, thought he had 
 never seen a person with such brilliant, soulful 
 beauty. 
 
 One evening after the children had all retired she 
 had told the doctor and his wife her sad story. It 
 was painful for her to review the past, fraught with 
 so much trouble, but she knew it was due the friends 
 who had received her so confidingly into their family. 
 Mrs. Ashley had wept in sympathy and had begged 
 her to stop, when her voice sometimes quivered at the 
 recital of her many troublous experiences, but she 
 kept bravely on. When she had finished, Mrs. Ash- 
 ley, with sympathy too deep for utterance, had put 
 one arm lovingly around her waist and with the other 
 clasped tightly one of Lillian's. Dr. Ashley had said 
 in surprise : 
 
 "And you are Mrs. Nelson, present mistress of 
 Randolph Hall, of which I have heard all my life. 
 My maternal grandfather lived with us in his last 
 days, and as a boy I have, with wonder and fear, lis- 
 tened to his story of the Hall, near which he had lived 
 in his youth and which he had once visited. I re- 
 member how grand a place he thought it was. I re- 
 member, too, how fascinated I would be when he 
 
194 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 would tell me of the old Squire's ghost that came to 
 bring death to the young children. ' ' 
 
 Lillian had shuddered as she recalled the first time 
 she had heard the story of the ghost from the lips of 
 one who had since brought greater curses and darker 
 troubles to the Hall than ever the ghost of the old 
 Squire had done— even admitting the absurd story— 
 for the ghost had brought death to the young and 
 innocent, had called them early to the happiness of 
 heaven, while Walter Brunette's hand had dashed 
 out the life of the last two descendants of the old 
 Squire and brought grief and wreck to her they had 
 loved. 
 
 Dr. Ashley was thinking of her sad story as his 
 eyes rested admiringly upon her who had but a few 
 months before been so near death's door even he, usu- 
 ally the last to lose hope, had despaired of her life, 
 and now she was so buoyant with renewed health and 
 strength. How grateful he was for the part he had 
 had in her restoration. How beautiful she was and 
 how unfortunate! 
 
 Mrs. Ashley just then entered the room and he 
 called her to his side to speak the admiration he felt 
 at the pretty scene before them. Mrs. Ashley, bright, 
 enthusiastic in her nature, and in her love and admi- 
 ration of Lillian, was soon using all the choice adjec- 
 tives in our language to describe her. After a pause 
 Dr. Ashley said : 
 
 "That Brunette was a villain of the deepest dye, 
 and yet I can't help being sorry for him. It made 
 him desperate to love and lose so beautiful and lovely 
 a woman." 
 
 "Sorry for him!" Mrs. Ashley exclaimed with 
 flashing eyes. "Sorry for him, indeed! I am so 
 sorry for him that I, who have never felt I could en- 
 dure the sight of a hanging man, could stand, I think, 
 
WITH HER NEW FRIENDS 
 
 195 
 
 coolly and pitilessly, and see the cap drawn over his 
 eyes and then his body dangling in the air. ' 9 
 
 4 4 Now, my little wife, don't talk so bravely nor be 
 so indignant with me for my sympathy with the poor 
 fellow until I explain myself. I think the man must 
 be insane-— nothing short of insanity could justify 
 his course. ' ' 
 
 "Insanity, indeed !" was the sarcastic reply. "He 
 was sane enough to plot so skilfully as to elude those 
 who would have brought him to justice. Then, too. 
 Mrs. Nelson said, in his role of Mr. Reynolds, he had 
 acquired quite a reputation as a journalist, so you 
 see your theory is at fault in that defense of his per- 
 fidious character." 
 
 "Not so fast, my dear. Remember 'there is method 
 in madness.' We often hear of instances in which 
 the insane outwit those w T ho are sane, and so it may 
 be in this instance. If insane, he is a monomaniac- 
 insane only for love of this beautiful woman, and as 
 a madman, willing to do or dare anything to get her 
 to marry him. If he were not mad he would not wish 
 a wife who he knows must abhor and fear him. ' ' 
 
 "I don't believe one word of anything like that. 
 If he were caught, his lawyers would doubtless bring 
 in the plea of insanity for his defense and argue 
 just as you are doing to prevent his receiving his just 
 deserts. Men are always trying to palliate or excuse 
 in some way the crimes of their own sex, while they 
 all unite in harsh criticism against our sex for the 
 slightest departure from the rules of law or morality. 
 I can assure you if you should put on the jury me 
 and eleven other sensible women, there would be no 
 hung jury— no delay in bringing out the verdict of 
 'guilty of murder in the first degree,' and no recom- 
 mending the prisoner to the clemency of the judge." 
 
 With a twinkle in his eye, the doctor retorted: "I 
 
196 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 doubt not such would be the verdict of any twelve 
 women who always judge a case by their own feelings 
 rather than by the evidence. I for one will never 
 give them the ballot— nor jury box"— and he beat a 
 hasty retreat lest he should bring down on his 
 slightly bald head a torrent of reproaches against 
 men in general for his defense of one in particular. 
 
 Lillian, ignorant of the good-natured but spirited 
 discussion between the doctor and his wife, smiled at 
 the children's praise of their several favorites and 
 their desire to get her to agree with each of them, 
 Very bright and free from care she looked as she 
 used h*r tact to keep the children from thinking her 
 partial, calling attention to the respective merits of 
 each flower so adroitly they did not suspect she was 
 trying to evade a puzzling question. Just then the 
 nurse appeared with baby Maggie, and soon Lillian 
 was playing with it, tossing it up, listening to its in- 
 fantile laugh and coo with keenest delight. Mrs. Ash- 
 ley, with true mother's heart, thought as she watched 
 her she had never seemed so lovely, so truly womanly. 
 In this pleasant home Lillian had found the peace 
 and security to which she had long been a stranger. 
 She allowed no thought of "Walter Brunette to in- 
 trude to mar her quiet enjoyment. 
 
THE DEAD ALIVE 
 
 197 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE DEAD ALIVE. 
 
 Lillian and Mrs. Ashley had been planning for sev- 
 
 eral months to go to 0 and reveal to the lawyers 
 
 the fact that she was yet alive. After she had told 
 her story, she had wished Dr. Ashley to write to 
 them to come on imperative business, which would be 
 satisfactorily explained on their arrival, but Mrs. 
 Ashley had been so anxious for them all to go to 
 0 to surprise the lawyers with her sudden ap- 
 pearance, to see if they would recognize her, that at 
 last she had yielded to that lady's entreaties. Dr. 
 Ashley placed at her disposal a little sum he had in 
 bank for a rainy day which she could use until he 
 
 and his wife could accompany her to 0 . Lillian 
 
 had insisted that it would be taxing their kindness 
 too far — that she wished as soon as possible to cor- 
 roborate her statements to them, which they had taken 
 on her word only, but they assured her they believed 
 her implicitly and it was probable she would need 
 their corroboration to prove her strange story more 
 than they would the lawyers to prove her claim as 
 Mrs. Nelson. Dr. Ashley, at Lillian's request, had 
 subscribed for some of the leading papers and in them 
 she had seen the advertisement for heirs to the es- 
 tate. Suppose one should prove his claim and get 
 the property? That was hardly probable, as she had 
 never heard of any relatives of the family, and even 
 in that case, Moss Side would still remain to her, the 
 income from which would be amply sufficient for all 
 her wants. She would not contest it if any heir or 
 
199 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 heirs had been found, as she wished some descendant 
 to have the property. So she waited very patiently 
 for Dr. and Mrs. Ashley's opportunity to go with 
 her to the city. It seemed hard for them to get off. 
 The first time they decided to go Dr. Ashley was 
 called off professionally ; then the twins, Norman and 
 Norma, were sick for two weeks; then Arthur, the 
 second boy, had a long case of fever. So November 
 came before they could go on their trip — more than 
 a year since she had so suddenly disappeared. It 
 was lovely Indian summer weather when they set out 
 in the carriage for the station next to Queen's Beach. 
 
 It was dark when they arrived at 0 . Lillian 
 
 was registered as "Mrs. L. D. Devereux," a name 
 she had decided to assume lest Walter Brunette 
 might again persecute her if he knew of her exist- 
 ence. Enveloped in a very thick black widow's veil, 
 she went from the carriage to her room at the hotel 
 and Mrs. Ashley took all her meals to her, lest some- 
 one might recognize her. Lillian had given over to 
 Mrs. Ashley the manner in which she should be pre- 
 sented to the lawyers. She herself wished to see if 
 the lawyers would recognize her with her changed 
 hair. Proceeding the next morning* to the office of 
 Budd and Anderson, they alighted and were shown 
 into the private parlor of those gentlemen. 
 
 "Two ladies and a gentleman to see you, sir," an- 
 nounced the obsequious clerk to Mr. Anderson, who 
 sat at his desk overwhelmed with business, as that 
 firm usually was. 
 
 "What names?" 
 
 "They give none, sir." With a little frown con- 
 tracting his serene brow, Mr. Anderson arose and 
 went to the parlor, dismissing the frown, however, 
 before he entered. He greeted the strangers with the 
 
THE DEAD ALIVE 
 
 199 
 
 dignified courtesy habitual to him. Lillian threw 
 aside her veil and advanced to meet him with her ac- 
 customed ease of manner, but with a throbbing heart. 
 Would he know her? He looked into her slightly 
 flushed face and gave a perceptible start, but he was 
 too used to strange events to be thrown off by a re- 
 semblance, however striking, so recovering himself, 
 he took the hand she held out and said: 1 ' This is — " 
 
 k ' Mrs. Nelson, ' ' Mrs. Ashley replied at once. ' 4 She 
 is our friend and has come to prove her claim to the 
 Nelson estate." 
 
 The old lawyer looked at her searchingly now and a 
 look of surprise came into the face that usually kept 
 its own secrets. 
 
 "On what ground do you rest your claim?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "On the ground that I am the last representative 
 of that family. Do I resemble the members of the 
 family ? 
 
 "Not at all," was the decided answer, "but you 
 are the very counterpart of the wife of Robert Nelson, 
 the last known descendant of the family. You are 
 just like she was when I first knew her. After a se- 
 vere illness her hair fell out and in its place white 
 hair came, which altered her appearance greatly." 
 
 "What became of the lady?" asked Mrs. Ashley. 
 
 Mr. Anderson's face saddened as he replied: "She 
 was drowned about a year ago — fell from a cliff while 
 viewing the ocean." 
 
 "Was her body recovered?" 
 
 "No, ma'am, though every effort was made to re- 
 cover it. Her handkerchief and keys were found on 
 a raft of driftwood, but her body was doubtless car- 
 ried away by the waves, which were very high. But 
 you must be a relative of the lady?" 
 
200 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 Lillian could stand i: no longer. Looking into 
 his face with a bright smile, she asked: 
 
 "Mr. Anderson, do you really not know me? Do 
 you not suspect? I am Robert Nelson's wifo, not 
 drowned as you supposed. I was rescued by some 
 fishermen and in their home and that of my friends 
 here, Dr. and Mrs. Ashley, I have been since, coming 
 back to the life and health I was so near losing by 
 the treachery of the man who has been the implacable 
 enemy of my happiness for so many years, even Wal- 
 ter Brunette.' ' 
 
 Mrs. Ashley had pictured to herself many times 
 the astonishment that would seize the lawyers when 
 they learned of Lillian's rescue, but imagination had 
 not drawn it so great as it appeared. Mr. Anderson, 
 for once, was astonished beyond measure, so much 
 so he could not utter a word for several minutes 
 after Lillian had stopped to catch her breath, for she 
 had spoken rapidly. His glasses were adjusted and 
 readjusted and his eyes seemed to be searching Lil- 
 lian for some proof of the incredible assertion she 
 was making. Lillian smilingly said, . as she noted 
 this : 
 
 "I am prepared to prove all I have said. Dr. Ash- 
 ley was my physician, to whose skill, united with the 
 nursing of his wife and my new-found friends, I owe 
 my restoration to the life so miraculously spared by 
 my Heavenly Father." 
 
 "But your hair!" almost gasped Mr. Anderson, 
 who at last recovered speech. 
 
 "Was cut off oy the doctor during the fever that 
 followed my rescue, and this dark hair, like my first 
 hair, came out in its stead." 
 
 It took all the morning to give Mr. Anderson the 
 details of the events that had transpired since she 
 
THE DEAD ALIVE 
 
 201 
 
 had last seen him and when she had finished he said : 
 
 ' ' I can hardly yet believe the evidence of my own 
 eyes and ears. It seems more like a recital of the 
 unreal events of a modern romance than the simple 
 ungarnished truth. I know you are what you claim. 
 Every look, gesture, act, convinces me, apart from 
 your words, that you are Robert Nelson's wife. Mr. 
 Budd, who is absent as usual on business, will be 
 equally astonished and pleased to know that you are 
 alive and so much like your former self. He will no 
 longer be worried by examining the claims of the 
 many Nelsons w T ho have tried in vain to obtain the 
 property. ' ' 
 
 Then Lillian told him her plans. At first he urged 
 her to go back to the Hall and live, but when he 
 knew the great dread that she still felt lest Walter 
 Brunette should know she was living and again mo- 
 lest her, he became quite assured that she was right. 
 She would never appear in this section again; would 
 go to New Orleans, seek out a friend of Robert's and 
 Helen's, and under her protection, try to live out the 
 remainder of her life in peace, if not in happiness. 
 As Mrs. Devereux, the name Uncle Henri had wished 
 her to bear and of which probably Walter Brunette 
 had never heard, she would doubtless be able to es- 
 cape him if he should ever cross her path again. 
 
 4 'That miscreant deserves death a dozen times/' 
 Mr. Anderson had said hotly when he learned of the 
 part Walter Brunette had played in Lillian's falling 
 from the cliff. "I would advise you never to try to 
 turn detective any more, my dear madam. If that 
 man is shrewd enough to outwit the best detectives, 
 to so completely disguise himself and his movements 
 that those most skillf ul in finding out crimes cannot 
 
202 
 
 LILLIAN DeVBRE 
 
 even get on his track, you had better not try to ac- 
 complish anything in that line/' 
 
 Lillian assured him nothing was further from her 
 thoughts than to undertake anything so difficult and 
 dangerous. Somehow, the strange story he had just 
 heard and the reappearance of one he had confidently 
 believed dead quite unnerved the usually calm Mr. 
 Anderson, who could not get to work after the de- 
 parture of his visitors with his usual ability to go 
 from one thing to another. He was not apt, as he 
 termed it, * ' to let one man 's business step on the heels 
 of another." Finding himself, however, unable to 
 settle down, he decided to go that evening to the Hall 
 and get Lillian's trunk, the keys of which he had re- 
 tained and given into the possession of the owner 
 that day. No one was to be told that Lillian lived. 
 She knew if Mrs. Coles or anyone else wondered why 
 Mr. Anderson came for her trunk they would feel 
 too much in awe of the dignified lawyer to ask any 
 questions, knowing he had all the business of the 
 place in his hands. So after a day's sojourn in the 
 place to which she had been so often a visitor in other 
 years, Lillian returned to Dr. Ashley's and no one 
 but the two old lawyers were any the wiser for her 
 coming. 
 
JEN ROUTE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 EN ROUTE. 
 
 Lillian had written to Mrs. Chastine, whom she 
 knew only as Robert 'sand Helen's friend, and received 
 from her a letter assuring* her it would give her and 
 her family the greatest pleasure to make the ac- 
 quaintance and receive as a friend the wife of one 
 whom they had so highly esteemed and in whose 
 father's home they had spent many delightful weeka. 
 The friendship between the two families had begun 
 by Chester Chastine and Robert Nelson becoming 
 great friends at college. Chester was Mrs. Chastine 's 
 oldest child and only son. During vacation he had 
 spent two weeks with Robert before going to his 
 home. At his suggestion, Helen had been sent to the 
 same school his sisters Viola and Iva were attending. 
 It was the only session Helen had ever been able to go 
 to boarding school. While there she and the Chas- 
 tine girls were classmates and room-mates and soon 
 became very dear friends. By special invitation Mrs. 
 Chastine and her children had spent several weeks at 
 the Hall. This was during Dr. and Mrs. Nelson's 
 life. The next winter the Nelson family had spent 
 some time in New Orleans, the guests of Mrs. Chas- 
 tine. Among many other pleasures they enjoyed in 
 the city were those of the "Mardi Gras," which were 
 especially attractive to Robert and Helen, who had 
 never before witnessed them. A correspondence had 
 been kept up between the members of the family as 
 long as Robert lived. Chester had loved the fair, 
 frail Helen and would have made her his wife, but 
 before saying anything to her he had asked her 
 
204 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 father's permission to woo and win lier. Dr. Nelson, 
 laying his hand tenderly on the young man's arm, 
 and looking kindly into his honest gray eyes, had 
 said : 
 
 "My dear Chester, there is no man living to whom 
 I would more readily give my delicate snowdrop, but 
 she is too fragile, has too slight a hold on life to bear 
 transplanting to any home but the one in which she 
 has been so tenderly reared. I could trust her to no 
 sheltering arms but those of her father, which have 
 shielded her as much as possible from every rude 
 shock. Prom her infancy she has been the object of 
 my tenclerest love and most devoted care and I feel 
 Ave could not live apart from each other." 
 
 Chester gave up his hopes, and when a few days 
 after her father had told Helen of the young man's 
 love for her and what he had told him, she had sanc- 
 tioned it, and said, as she looked up into the face 
 gazing so lovingly into her own: 4 'My father is 
 right, as he always is. No man's love but that of my 
 father and brother shall ever crown my life, but that 
 is amply sufficient for my happiness." 
 
 Mrs. Chastine had seen in a paper an account of 
 the recovery of Robert Nelson's body. It gave no par- 
 ticulars, because an account of his disappearance had 
 already been published, which, however, neither that 
 lady nor any of her family had seen. Under the im- 
 pression the drowning was accidental, she had writ- 
 ten a letter of condolence to Lillian, who had an- 
 swered it, thinking Mrs. Chastine knew T all about the 
 sad circumstances attending her husband's death. 
 Helen had corresponded with the girls and had often 
 read extracts from their letters aloud. From these 
 Lillian had become favorably impressed with all the 
 family, and now, in her loneliness and with a desire 
 
EN ROUTE 
 
 205 
 
 to leave the scenes of so many troubles, and for the 
 sake of greater security from her enemy, her mind 
 and heart had turned to this family. She loved them 
 already because they had been so much loved "by her 
 dear ones, and she felt assured they would receive 
 her as a friend for their sakes. She was much touched 
 by Mrs. Chastine's letter, who, herself having lost a 
 devoted husband, could deeply sympathize with the 
 young widow who was more lonely and loveless than 
 herself. 
 
 Dr. and Mrs. Ashley would not hear of her leaving 
 them before the holidays, so to gratify them and the 
 children she spent the Christmas with her kind 
 friends and went often to the cabin, where she was 
 always received with the warmest expressions of wel- 
 come. Her gifts to the family were many and sub- 
 stantial. They would not hear of her paying them 
 anything for their services to her in her great need, 
 but she compensated them in such delicate ways they 
 could not refuse her generosity. They knew they 
 would hurt her by refusal of her kindness, and more 
 for her sake than their own accepted her bounty. 
 When they fancied her thoughts were far away, after 
 her sickness, she was studying their needs and think- 
 ing how to supply them. ? Tis no wonder they loved 
 the gentle, sweet woman who testified her gratitude 
 so generously and so gracefully, and there was grief 
 in the family when she went away so far from them. 
 
 Dr. and Mrs. Ashley had tried to prevail on her 
 to make her home with them, but she could not trust 
 herself so near to the scene of her last tragic experi- 
 ence. Walter Brunette might return to Queen's 
 Beach, and in that unaccountable way by which he 
 learned everything about her, find out her rescue from 
 death and again subject her to insult, the very 
 
206 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 thought of which unnerved her. The first of January 
 she left for Atlanta, where she stayed a week or two 
 to secure a companion. After several had answered the 
 advertisement she had inserted in the leading papers 
 of that city, she selected a young girl, an orphan, Miss 
 Eva Norris. She was the daughter of a minister, who 
 had recently died, leaving his daughter dependent 
 upon her own resources for a livelihood. For this 
 reason, and because she was righly recommended, 
 Lillian employed her. She had been reared in a quiet 
 country town and had never been a hundred miles 
 from home before she came to the city in answer to 
 uillian's letter, giving her the position for which she 
 had written. She was quite a pretty, bright, talk- 
 ative girl, who considered herself most fortunate in 
 obtaining just such a position as she desired. She 
 was extremely fond of novelty and was delighted at 
 the prospect of seeing more of the world than she 
 had ever dreamed she would. It was a fine day in 
 January when Lillian and Eva boarded the train en 
 route for New Orleans, and were soon whirling to 
 their destination as fast as steam, directed by 
 prudence, could carry them. As the day advanced 
 and they approached nearer and nearer the tropical 
 clime, Lillian was oppresed by the heat, and, think- 
 ing all danger of recognition over, threw to one side 
 the thick mourning veil w T hich had completely hidden 
 her features. As she did this a man sitting three 
 seats below her on the other side of the car bolted 
 suddenly from his reclining position, turned very 
 pale, and exclaimed, " Great heavens!" below his 
 breath, but loud enough to be heard by those nearest 
 him, who stared uneasily at him, fearing he had be- 
 come suddenly demented. Their looks must have 
 recalled him to himself, for, picking up the paper he 
 
EN ROUTE 
 
 207 
 
 had held in his hand, but which he had let fall in his 
 excitement, he settled himself back to his former care- 
 less, listless posture and with great composure fixed 
 his eyes on the paper, as if steadily reading there 
 something that interested him, leaving his fellow pas- 
 sengers to wonder what the paper contained to excite 
 the man so. Two stations farther, the two men who 
 had occupied the seat in front of the man above 
 alluded to got off, and Eva, who knew nothing of 
 what had passed, after a word or two to Lillian, came 
 over and took the vacant seat. Trying in vain to 
 hoist the window, the strange gentleman, for so he 
 seemed, eagerly leaned over and raised it for her. 
 Thanking him, she said : 
 
 ' 1 When I'm traveling I wish to see all that's to be 
 seen. ' ' 
 
 "That's right," was the reply. "So do I, but I 
 often find more to interest me in the cars than out, 
 especially if there are pretty ladies aboard." 
 
 If Eva had been true to her teaching, if she had 
 been as wise as the little flies we read of in a certain 
 poem, she would not have fallen into the net the 
 spider was setting for her. Instead, she was like the 
 silly flies another poem records, who were caught by 
 flattering words. With a smile she gave a hasty 
 glance around the car, and said: 
 
 "There are not enough pretty ones on today to be 
 specially interesting." Then looking at Lillian, who 
 was gazing out of the window, but seemed lost in 
 reverie, she continued: 
 
 "The lady I am traveling with has beauty enough 
 to compensate for what the rest of us may lack." 
 
 "Who is she, if I may ask?" was the next question. 
 
 "Mrs. Devereux," Eva replied in a low tone. 
 
 "A French lady, I suppose, by her name?" 
 
208 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 "Yes; she and her husband, too, I suppose, were 
 French. ' ' 
 
 "For whom does she wear such heavy mourning?" 
 
 "For her husband, who has recently died, and to 
 whom she was much devoted." 
 
 "She is very beautiful, isn't she?" with a glance 
 in the direction of Lillian, who was utterly ignorant 
 that she was the source of conversation. 
 
 "Oh, yes, by far the most beautiful person I ever 
 saw. You would think so, too, if you could see be- 
 yond that horrid veil she wears so constantly. ' ' 
 
 "What is her style? Dark eyes and hair, I sup- 
 pose ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, yes," was the enthusiastic reply; everybody 
 became enthusiastic when describing Lillian's beauty. 
 "She has the loveliest dark eyes I ever saw, and the 
 prettiest dark hair, with fair complexion and rosy 
 cheeks and lips." 
 
 "She must be very beautiful," the stranger said, 
 with interest. "Is she a relative of yours?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, no ; I am only her companion, ' ' was the frank 
 answer. 
 
 "And where are you going? Excuse me if I seem 
 inquisitive, but you have excited my interest," and 
 he gave a very significant look into the fresh, pretty 
 face of the girl he was addressing. 
 
 She blushed a little and answered: 
 
 "To New Orleans, to be with some friends, who, I 
 imagine, also are French. It's a strange name, Chas- 
 tine. Have you ever heard it before?" 
 
 The stranger assured her he had not. 
 
 "You will be in the city during the 'Mardi Gras,' 
 I suppose?" 
 
 "I think so; I heard Mrs. Devereux say something 
 about that yesterday. ' ' 
 
EN ROUTE 
 
 209 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course, you will be there then. You 
 will be delighted if you have never witnessed the 
 novelties of that occasion." Then followed a graphic 
 description of that festival on the part of the 
 stranger, to which Eva listened absorbed, forgetting 
 in her enjoyment that she was showing she, too, 
 found greater attraction on the inside than the out- 
 side of the car, though they were traveling through 
 a most lovely section of the fair Southland. When 
 the newsboy came his round, the gentleman bought 
 a noted magazine and placed it at her disposal. From 
 the fruit agent he bought delicious fruits and begged 
 her acceptance. She felt rather reluctant to accept 
 these favors from a mere stranger, but she argued, 
 what harm could there be in accepting them when 
 he offered them so kindly, and then he was almost as 
 old as "papa." As she thought this, she glanced at 
 the gentleman, who was peeling an orange, and 
 seemed to be greatly interested in the process. His 
 hair, beard and moustache were slightly sprinkled 
 with gray, and he wore glasses as "papa" did, but 
 truth compelled her to acknowledge to herself that 
 he didn't look very old after all, especially when he 
 was talking and was animated. Still, she received 
 his gifts and enjoyed them, too. Lillian had glanced 
 over to her twice. At one time she was busy looking 
 over the magazine, and at the other she was enjoying 
 an orange, which that lady, of course, thought she 
 had bought, but she wondered slightly why she should 
 have bought fruit when they had a supply in their 
 lunch basket. Later on the stranger had asked an 
 exchange of cards, saying he wished to know to whom 
 he was indebted for so delightful a conversation. Eva 
 told him she had but one card with her, and that wa« 
 in her grip on the other seat. She had put it there, 
 
210 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 she explained, in case she should forget and leave 
 her grip. If it should fall into the hands of an 
 honest person, she would get it again. When she 
 proposed going for it, the stranger said : 
 
 "Wait until you are about to get off, but be sure 
 not to neglect it, as I should wish to cherish it as a 
 souvenir of this pleasant occasion," and he added, 
 thoughtfully, "You had better not tell the lady of 
 our acquaintance, as she seems to shun observation, 
 and she might not like to know we had been discuss- 
 ing her." 
 
 Eva felt instinctively Lillian would not approve of 
 her freedom in discussing her and her affairs to an 
 utter stranger, so she determined to keep it to herself, 
 and Lillian was ignorant of this little episode. On 
 the card the stranger had given Eva was inscribed 
 in a bold hand, "Judge E. A. Allan, New Orleans, 
 La." 
 
 "Do you live in New Orleans?" she asked eagerly, 
 after reading the superscription. 
 
 "I live there when not officially employed else- 
 where. I hope we shall meet again and renew our 
 acquaintance under more favorable circumstances. 
 We are nearing the city now," he said later. "Re- 
 member my card." 
 
 Eva easily secured it without Lillian's notice, and 
 gave it into the stranger's hand. It bore her name 
 and the street and number of Mrs. Chastine's resi- 
 dence. The last face she saw that night at the depot 
 was "Judge Allan's." He had stood very near while 
 Mr. Chastine put them in the carriage, and Eva had 
 caught his smile as he bowed gracefully and was lost 
 in the crowd. That night she stood before the mirror 
 and scanned her features with more than usual care. 
 Was she pretty that the stranger, a judge, too,, so 
 
EN ROUTE 
 
 211 
 
 intelligent, so unmistakably a gentleman, should seem 
 so struck by her and show such evident pleasure in 
 her society? Surely there must be something about 
 her attractive, and for the first time in her life, per- 
 haps, Eva Norris felt vain of her beauty and at- 
 tractiveness, and went to sleep to dream strange 
 dreams in which the face of the handsome judge 
 figured most conspicuously. 
 
212 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 IN NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 Lillian found Mrs. Chastine's family what she had 
 expected them to be — pleasant, refined and cultured. 
 They were the center of what is in its highest, truest 
 sense the best society, for it was composed of those 
 who were the best people from a Christian standpoint 
 rather than those who prided themselves upon the 
 wealth or prestige acquired by former generations. 
 Into this select circle Lillian was at once received as 
 a friend of Mrs. Chastine, and very soon everybody 
 who w r as fortunate enough to be that lady's friend 
 felt Lillian to be a charming acquaintance, and gave 
 her a most flattering reception into their homes. By 
 the ladies she soon began to be styled ' £ the lovely Mrs. 
 Devereux," and by the gentlemen "the beautiful 
 snow-queen, 7 ' because she was so fair, but received 
 their attentions so coolly. Indeed, so reserved was 
 she in her manners to gentlemen not even the boldest 
 dared show her any attention he would not have 
 shown the most prudent married lady of his acquaint- 
 ance. While to all she was ever pleasant and 
 courteous, charming them alike by her brilliant beauty 
 and even more by her sweet, pure womanliness, yet 
 she made gentlemen feel she was not in the matri- 
 monial market, Naturally fond of congenial society, 
 Lillian entered into it with increasing pleasure, and 
 gradually the sad expression that for years had 
 softened but not impaired her beauty, gave way to 
 its naturally oright, cheerful expression. The large 
 eyes shone with a brilliancy to which they had long 
 
IN NEW ORLEANS 
 
 213 
 
 been a stranger, and sometimes her laugh would ring 
 out like a chime of bells, not so merry as formerly, but 
 with a soft, low music that everybody loved to listen 
 to, and her friends loved to say something to amuse 
 her, that they might hear it, for many things amused 
 and interested her now. 
 
 Bravely she tried to put the sad past behind her 
 and to enjoy the delightful present. Not that she 
 had in any way forgotten her loved ones or ceased to 
 care for them. Eobert Nelson was as dear to her 
 memory as he had been to her heart that night when 
 her love for him had found expression in the words, 
 ' ' Oh, Robert ! would that I had died for thee ! ' ' For 
 this reason she felt she could never let another utter 
 words of love to her. More beautiful even than she 
 had ever been, and with that buoyancy and vivacity 
 which were natural to her but which misfortune and 
 grief had for so many years repressed, she won the 
 admiration of all who came under her gentle, gracious 
 influence, but she kept at a distance the gentlemen 
 who would have sought her love. 
 
 She had hoped to board with Mrs. Chastine, but 
 she found that lady's house full. Chester, his wife, 
 child and nurse lived there. Also Mr. Scott, Mrs. 
 Chastine 's nephew, whose family consisted of himself, 
 wife and two children. The girls entertained a good 
 deal of company and Lillian saw at once it would in- 
 convenience the family to let her have a suite of rooms 
 there, so she did not even express her wish in that 
 regard to her friend, but asked her advice and aid 
 in scuring pleasant apartments. About a square 
 from Mrs. Chastine 's was a quiet but most excellent 
 hotel, first-class in every respect. Situated in the 
 residental part of the city, it was free from the noise 
 and bustle usually attendant upon a hotel more con- 
 
314 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 venient to the traveling public. The guests were 
 mostly those who boarded by the month, and she was 
 fortunate enough to secure a most desirable suite of 
 rooms on the second floor that had been vacated the 
 day before. This arrangement made it exceedingly 
 pleasant, as Lillian could enjoy the freedom of Mrs, 
 Chastine's home and yet not feel that she was intrud- 
 ing upon the privacy of the home-circle. The pro- 
 prietor of the hotel was a personal friend of the 
 Chastines, and this interested him in Lillian, who 
 received every attention that could add to her 
 pleasure and comfort. Eva Norris, as her companion, 
 came in for her share of consideration and was de- 
 lighted with her life in the city, as we may judge by 
 some extracts from a letter written after several 
 months' sojourn. She began : 
 
 Dear Lidie : I promised to write to you real soon, 
 and intended to keep that promise, but to tell the 
 plain truth, I have been having such a lovely time I 
 haven't had an opportunity to spare, even to you, my 
 dearest chum. Well, I can't describe it better than 
 to say I'm just having a grand time, living in a grand 
 city, in grand style, at a grand hotel, and, grandest 
 of all is Mrs. Devereux herself. Lidie, she is the very 
 prettiest, sweetest and best lady I ever saw. She is 
 so beautiful all the ladies love her dearly and all the 
 gentlemen worship her at a distance, just like she was 
 a bright star too far above their reach for any of 
 them ever to hope to win. When we go to the opera 
 or a concert or any place where there is a great crowd, 
 the people look at her as if amazed by her beauty, and 
 the gentlemen stare at her through their glasses, and 
 she sits there in the box as calm and quiet as possible, 
 and I don't believe even notices it or cares for it if 
 •he does notice. That's the most wonderful thing 
 
IN NEW ORLEANS 
 
 215 
 
 about her beauty, she doesn't seem to know she has 
 any, though other people just rave over it. Then, she 
 is so good, too. After I became her companion, one 
 morning she asked me all about my old home, about 
 papa and mamma, and, when I had finished, she put 
 her hand on my head and said : 
 
 "I hope, Eva, you will follow in the footsteps of 
 your sainted parents, and, like them, live a noble, use- 
 ful Christian life. ' ' I just went to crying like a silly 
 child when she said that, and she soothed me just as 
 if I had been a little child. That's the only time I 
 have cried since I have been here, except at the opera 
 one night. We don't sit with the other folks, but 
 in a box, as they call it, with curtains around it, so 
 if you want to you can pull them and you can see 
 everything on the stage and nobody can see you. 
 Several of Mrs. Devereux's friends have private boxes 
 and invite her to occupy them, and as her companion 
 I go, too. You see, in this way, by clinging to Mrs. 
 Devereux's dainty garments I can float on the highest 
 waves of popularity. Well, one night at the opera, 
 a beautiful lady, dressed very fine in cream silk, 
 trimmed in lace, with her dress made low-neck and 
 short sleeves, showing her pretty arms and neck 
 shining with diamonds, came out and sang, oh, so 
 sweetly and sadly, about a man she loved, but he 
 loved another girl, and I couldn't help crying to save 
 my life. The tears fell down on my dress and I 
 wouldn't wipe them away for fear some one would see 
 me. I just thought how miserable I would be if I 
 should love somebody and then found out he loved 
 some one else. Well, I was telling you about Mrs. 
 Devereux, how good she is, looking around to do all 
 the good she can to everybody, rich and poor, and, 
 
216 
 
 LILLIAN DeV&RE 
 
 strangely enough, she seems to enjoy doing a kindness 
 to poor people more than to rich people. 
 
 Mrs. Chastine, that's one of her best friends, told 
 a lady who was talking about her once that her heart 
 was in her husband's grave. I thought to myself all 
 her heart wasn't there, for she had more heart for 
 other people than anybody I know. But I can't tell 
 all about my employer, sweet and good as she is, for 
 if I did I'd use all my paper and then fail to give 
 you any idea of her beauty or goodness, so I will stop 
 and tell you about the Mardi Gras. 
 
 Then followed a description of that wonderful 
 festival, which it took all the enthusiastic adjectives 
 in Eva's vocabulary to describe. Then she asked 
 after and sent messages of love to several friends, and 
 closed her letter by begging a speedy reply, and with 
 many assurances of love. On a separate sheet of 
 paper was a P. S., which ran as follows : 
 
 "Now, dear Lidie, I am going to tell you a little 
 secret, which you must promise me in your next letter 
 you won't tell anybody. I used to tell you all my 
 secrets and I can trust you now. Well, my secret is 
 this: Coming down here on the train I made the 
 acquaintance of a judge, a real live judge, who paid 
 me great attention. He bought me a magazine and 
 some delicious fruit and paid me the nicest and most 
 delicate compliments. He told me he wasn't married 
 and had never been. He asked me for my card with 
 my name on it and gave me his. On his was, ' Judge 
 E. A. Allan, New Orleans, La.' He lives here and 
 said he hoped we would meet again. I have looked 
 for him in every crowd and everywhere I have been 
 hoping to see him, but in vain. Now, Lidie, we fell 
 in love with each other at first sight, and that's the 
 best, truest kind of love, you know. I believe I shall 
 
W NEW ORLEANS 
 
 m 
 
 see him again. Oh, Lidie, he is so handsome, so intel- 
 ligent and dresses so fine — even wears a beaver, which 
 makes him so distinguished looking. Now, don't tell 
 Claude Barkley, because I promised to write to him 
 as soon as I got here and give him my address, but I 
 haven't done it. I will give him over to you and I'll 
 take 'the judge' when I find him." 
 
218 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 ANOTHER PICNIC. 
 
 As the summer approached it began to be discussed 
 by the Chastine family where they should spend that 
 season. They always went to some watering place 
 or seaside resort to escape the excessive heat. Lillian 
 smiled when they spoke of summer, for to her, ac* 
 customed to a more northerly clime, where the frost- 
 king wields his potent sway for five or six months of 
 the year, the winter and spring had been one delight- 
 ful summer. Still, as she and Eva and a few very 
 intimate friends of the family were to be included in 
 the party, she listened with some interest for the 
 finale of the discussion. Had she dared, she would 
 gladly have opened to her friends the doors of the 
 Hall and extended to them the hospitality for which 
 it had been formerly so noted, but she was afraid to 
 go so near Walter Brunette's home, with which she 
 felt confident he held intercourse, perhaps visited in 
 disguise. She felt that her only safety lay in keep- 
 ing him in ignorance of her existence. How thankful 
 she was for the return of dark hair, which would pre- 
 vent him from recognizing her if by any chance she 
 should encounter him! To Mrs. Chastine she had 
 told all the details of her story and it had aroused in 
 that good woman a storm of righteous indignation 
 against the man who had caused her lovely friend so 
 much distress. Mrs. Chastine had given to the mem- 
 bers of her own family circle the outlines of Lillian's 
 story, which they thought exceedingly romantic and 
 which elicited from them the deepest sympathy for 
 
ANOTHER PICNIC 
 
 219 
 
 the beautiful woman who had suffered so much and 
 who could yet be so attractive, so pleasant, so kind in 
 every way to others. Beyond this, nothing was known 
 of Lillian, save that she was a dear friend of the 
 Chastine family, whose husband Mrs. Chastine had 
 known and highly respected for his many fine qual- 
 ities. The few who remembered the Nelson family as 
 guests of Mrs. Chastine did not, of course, connect 
 that family with Lillian. When she told Mrs. Chas- 
 tine she would like to invite her family and friends 
 to the Hall, that lady exclaimed at once : 
 
 4 4 My dear Mrs. Devereux, while we would all be 
 grateful for your invitation and would enjoy nothing 
 so much if that terrible man who has for so many 
 years been the bane of your life occupied the felon's 
 grave he deserves, yet he is still at large, and I would 
 have you, on no account, subject yourself again to 
 his cruel persecution. No, no, my dear, you must go 
 with us and keep away from all chances of ever seeing 
 him again" — advice Lillian was very willing to take. 
 It was finally agreed they should go to a delight- 
 ful retreat in the" mountains of Virginia, and the 
 time set for their departure was three weeks hence. 
 
 A few days after this was agreed upon there was 
 a steamboat excursion on Lake Pontchartrain, upon 
 which Lillian and Eva went with some friends. The 
 Chastine family had promised themselves great 
 pleasure from the occasion, but the night before Mr. 
 Scott had been taken suddenly and critically ill, and, 
 of course, none of that family could go. It was a 
 beautiful bright day and every arrangement had been 
 made for the pleasure and entertainment of the party. 
 There was a fine band on board, which discoursed 
 exhilarating music. The young people were full of 
 innocent mirth. The older people grew young again 
 
220 
 
 LILLIAN DkVEHE 
 
 in the enjoyment of the more youthful ones and in 
 the pleasure of so delightful an occasion. Lillian 
 mingled with her friends on the fore-deck for awhile, 
 then slipped away to the hind-deck, where only a few 
 persons were scattered here and there. Seating her- 
 self apart from the rest, she gave herself up to the 
 quiet enjoyment of the scene, unconscious of the fact 
 that a pair of very bright eyes were gazing upon her 
 with a look of curious interest and admiration, a look 
 of such deep perplexity it brought a frown upon the 
 face. The owner of the eyes was in the salon, near 
 the door, and appeared to have sought that position 
 to see and not be seen. Eva, missing Lillian after 
 awhile, had found her absorbed in her own thoughts, 
 so she had seated herself on the opposite side and 
 given herself up to a reverie. So deeply was she 
 engrossed in her thoughts, she did not notice the 
 approach of a gentleman until he was very near her. 
 As she turned her head in his direction he held out his 
 hand with great frankness, and said in a low, earnest 
 tone : 
 
 * ' I cannot express to you my great pleasure in meet- 
 ing you again. I have so much desired to see my 
 little friend once more. Tell me if the pleasure is 
 mutual?" and as he looked into the bright, smiling 
 face, suffused in blushes, he knew his question was 
 answered ere she said, 1 ' Certainly, Judge Allan, I am 
 glad to see you again. ' ' 
 
 "Will you allow me to take this seat by you and 
 renew our acquaintance?" 
 
 For a reply she moved a chair near her, upon which 
 he sat with his back to everybody, but close by her 
 side, asking her questions of how her time had passed 
 in the city, and she, with the trustfulness of a child, 
 was telling him all she had enjoyed, to which he 
 
ANOTHER PICNIC 
 
 221 
 
 listened with eager attention. She talked to this 
 stranger whom she had known but a few hours with 
 the freedom and familiarity she should have accorded 
 to one she had known as many years. After a slight 
 pause, he said: 
 
 "I am getting very tired of the noise and bustle 
 of my hotel and am seeking a quieter one. Do you 
 think I could secure rooms in the one you describe 
 as so excellent?'' 
 
 ' i Oh, yes," Eva answered; "I do not doubt you 
 can. Some gentlemen on the floor above us moved 
 out yesterday. If you apply at once I think you can 
 get a room there. ' ' 
 
 She did not know how much interest she was show- 
 ing in this stranger's plans. He smiled as he said: 
 
 "I shall apply tomorrow morning, and then will 
 you tell everybody I am an old friend of yours, and 
 thus give me the right to pay you the attentions I 
 desire and do you all the kindness I wish, without so 
 much comment from disinterested but inquisitive 
 parties?" 
 
 He asked this in a very low, soft, pleading voice, 
 as if the answer meant very much for him. His eyes 
 were bent lovingly upon her. What could she say? 
 Could she deceive everybody for the sake of this 
 stranger, of whom she knew nothing? Poor little 
 unsophisticated girl! There was no one to whisper 
 there was danger in such deceit. Seeing her hesitate, 
 he said even more softly, more pleadingly: 
 
 "I am old, so old I arn gray. There will be no 
 harm in saying that and I will try to add very much 
 to your pleasure. In return I only ask you to keep 
 our little secret a short while from everybody. Will 
 you promise?" 
 
 Looking up into the eyes that looked so tenderly 
 
222 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 into hers, she gave the promise, and when he thanked 
 her so nicely and began to call her attention to th# 
 scenery, and say something so very nice and interest- 
 ing about every object that came in view, she forgot 
 everything save that she was very happy. Once 
 Lillian, when joined by some friends, had asked about 
 Eva, and when they had pointed to her on the other 
 side of the deck with a gentleman, she, very naturally 
 supposing it was some gentleman of her acquaintance, 
 fell into conversation, which continued until dinner 
 was announced ; then Eva joined her. Lillian thought 
 Eva had never been so bright and cheerful as she was 
 that evening. The stranger did not appear again, 
 but Eva told Lillian that night she had never enjoyed 
 a picnic more. 
 
 "The scenery upon the water is so beautiful, " she 
 said, as she recalled Judge Allan's fine descriptive 
 powers, which had made even commonplace objects 
 appear intensely interesting. Oh, the glamour love 
 throws over us ! 
 
 The next morning Judge Allan applied for board 
 at the hotel and secured the only vacant room — was 
 just ten minutes ahead of another applicant. That 
 evening he was introduced to Lillian as an old friend 
 by Eva, and as such received a more kindly greeting 
 than that lady usually accorded to gentlemen, and as 
 such, too, obtained permission to occupy the only 
 vacant chair at that lady's table, a privilege for which 
 he was envied by many of the gentleman boarders. 
 As a friend of Eva's, too, she regarded the judge more 
 closely than she usually did strangers. He was a 
 tall, fine-looking gentleman, with a broad intellectual 
 brow, apparently between forty and forty-five years 
 of age, judging from his gray hair and beard. He 
 had polished manners and there was about him a quiet 
 
ANOTHER PICNIC 
 
 228 
 
 dignity becoming his age and profession, and yet he 
 showed himself keenly appreciative of humor, for 
 when Mr. Beckwith, who was the humorist of the 
 table, related some amusing anecdote, Lillian noticed 
 a shy twinkle in the eyes shining so brightly under 
 gold-rimmed glasses and a smile parted the lips, 
 shaded by the gray moustache, disclosing a set of 
 teeth so white, even and perfect she thought they must 
 be false or remarkably fine for a person of his age. 
 
 He did not talk much that first night, but what he 
 did say Avas well expressed and to the point. Alto- 
 gether she was prepossessed with Eva's friend, and 
 that night after questioning her about him and re- 
 ceiving satisfactory and apparently very frank an- 
 swers to her questions, she felt quite assured he was 
 a true gentleman, and expressed herself to Eva as 
 glad she had so nice and so intelligent a friend to 
 add to her pleasure, little dreaming the friend she was 
 commending was a man of whom the girl knew less 
 than she did of any gentleman 10 whom she had been 
 introduced. She -at least knew their reputation; of 
 Judge Allan she knew absolutely nothing save what he 
 appeared. Lillian was not suspicious by nature, and 
 even if she had been, she had no right to question the 
 truthfulness of this girl who had come to her so highly 
 recommended and who gave evidence of having been 
 carefully reared. She felt it her duty to guard her 
 as she would have done a younger sister, and, under 
 the same circumstances, she would doubtless have ap- 
 proved the choice of a sister as she did Eva's. 
 
 If anyone had accused Eva of being untruthful or 
 dishonorable, she would have most indignantly re- 
 sented the accusation. How strong and subtle is the 
 influence of some natures upon others, causing them 
 to believe wrong is right and right is wrong ! Lillian 
 
224 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 would not have slept so soundly and sweetly that 
 night had she known how restlessly Eva was tossing 
 on her bed in the next room. One question Lillian 
 had asked her had greatly disquieted her, 
 
 6i I suppose you are sure your father would sanc- 
 tion your friendship with this gentleman V J 
 
 •'Yes, ma'am/' had been unhesitatingly answered; 
 but Eva was not able to answer it so easily to her 
 own satisfaction. Would her father, who was the 
 very soul of truth and honor, sanction her friendship 
 with this man who had given her her first lesson in 
 deceit? Finally she lulled herself to sleep with the 
 thought that surely papa w r ould be pleased to have 
 her secure the friendship of a gentleman so intelli- 
 gent, so handsome and so distinguished. In the room 
 directly above the one in which Eva was trying so 
 hard to go to sleep sat a gentleman, ensconsed in an 
 easy chair, his feet on the window-casement, gazing • 
 out of the window into vacancy. His fine Havana 
 cigar was the only company he had, but it seemed 
 enough to satisfy him, as he drew whiff after whiff, 
 causing its delightful fragrance to fill the room. Very 
 quiet, silent, almost motionless, the smoker sat, busy 
 with his thoughts — so busy, so self -forgetful nothing 
 roused him, not even the striking of the midnight 
 sto>kes. Sometimes he would hold his cigar for a 
 minute or two between his thumb and first finger and 
 mutter the words : 
 
 " Strange, passing strange!" 
 
AN EVENING DRIVE 
 
 225 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 AN EVENING DRIVE. 
 
 During the weeks that intervened before their de- 
 parture for the mountains, Judge Allan paid Eva the 
 kindest attentions. The men at the hotel began to 
 banter him about his fondness for the girl, but he 
 replied, smiling in his quiet, dignified way, ' * She is a 
 sweet little friend of mine and I want to give her a 
 good time, ' ' in which he succeeded, certainly, for Eva 
 had never enjoyed herself so much. To Lillian he 
 was exceedingly courteous, but he did not try to in- 
 trude himself into her society or insinuate himself into 
 her good graces in any unpleasant way, for which she 
 respected him. Indeed, he seemed rather to avoid 
 her, but she caught him looking at her sometimes with 
 an expression that was at once curious and admiring — 
 an expression that somehow made her feel uncom- 
 fortable, and yet she couldn't have told why. At last 
 the party set out for their summer retreat, which they 
 found very pleasant; indeed, it was everything they 
 could have desired for the quiet and comfort they 
 sought. They all improved under the beneficial effect 
 of pure mountain air and mineral water, and did 
 ample justice to the appetizing viands set before them. 
 Lillian had never visited the mountains before, and 
 she was delighted with the grandeur of the scenery 
 and all the pleasures and advantages to be derived 
 from a sojourn there. To Eva it was a novel and 
 most pleasurable experience. Judge Allan had ex- 
 tracted from her a promise to write to him often and 
 long letters, which she carried out fully. 
 
 Every week there went to the Judge a long letter, 
 
226 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 plentifully interspersed with Lillian and her affairs, 
 as indeed all of Eva's letters were. She told him of 
 how Lillian was getting every day more beautiful, of 
 how much she was admired, of how indifferent she 
 remained to admiration. Still, a fine-looking gentle- 
 man, a millionaire, was deeply in love with her and 
 would use every effort to induce her to become the 
 mistress of his palatial home and a mother to his two 
 beautiful little children. 
 
 "But I don't think she will marry him," Eva com- 
 mented. "She seems annoyed by his attentions and 
 refuses them when she can do so without real rude- 
 ness. I hope she won't marry him, for then I would 
 be thrown out of my position and be so friendless." 
 
 Very pleasantly the months passed, and October 
 came, the time for their return to the city. The 
 millionaire followed Lillian back, learned his fate and 
 returned to his home, a sadder man for having loved 
 and lost. Judge Allan met the party at the depot, 
 and in his quiet, independent way expressed his 
 pleasure at their return. He took Eva under his 
 special care, and she seemed very glad to see her old 
 friend again. He gave her every pleasure in his 
 power, and yet his attentions were not lover-like; 
 there was nothing exclusive in them that he could not 
 divide with others. If there were presents of delicious 
 fruits or rare flowers, Lillian's name was always in- 
 cluded in the note accompanying them. If a drive 
 was to be given, it was in a carriage, and Lillian or 
 the Chastine girls were invited to go. The Judge 
 seemed as prudent and as anxious to shield the young 
 girl's good name as Lillian herself. One evening in 
 early November an invitation came from Judge Allan 
 to Eva and Lillian to go for a drive, saying Iva Chas- 
 tine had consented to go. Lillian had declined several 
 
JLN evening drive 
 
 227 
 
 times and now, at Eva's urgent desire, agreed to ac- 
 cept a place with the others. 
 
 It was superb weather. The day was gloriously- 
 bright, the air soft and balmy. The drive was to 
 some of the most beautiful and interesting spots for 
 which the city is famed. Judge Allan had never 
 exerted himself to entertain on previous occasions. 
 The conversation had been general, all the parties 
 contributing equally to the pleasure of the others. 
 On this particular evening, he began, in his quiet but 
 most impressive manner, to describe the different ob- 
 jects to which he called attention. Sometimes there 
 were histories or legends connected with them, which 
 he related in the choicest language and the most elo- 
 quent manner. His listeners were intensely inter- 
 ested and impressed by his brilliant attainments and 
 fine descriptive powers. All felt the influence of that 
 rare social magnetism which sometimes draws you to 
 a person instinctively. Once when Eva remarked 
 upon his familiarity with every place they visited, the 
 Judge said, smilingly: 
 
 "I spent several years here as a boy, and, being a 
 very active, inquisitive specimen, there was nothing 
 worth finding out that I did not discover, and there 
 was nothing worth knowing about interesting places 
 that I did not learn. I have always been especially 
 fond of legends and strange, weird stories have a 
 peculiar fascination for me. ' ' 
 
 On their return they passed a baseball ground on 
 which two champion clubs were engaged in a contest. 
 Judge Allan ordered the driver to stop, that they 
 might witness the playing. He and Iva understood 
 the game and were soon greatly interested in it. 
 Lillian and Eva enjoyed the evident enthusiasm of so 
 many people for the sport. As the carriage contain- 
 
228 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 ing our party drove near the grounds, the attention 
 of a young gentleman who had been looking listlessly 
 around at the crowd was at once attracted and he 
 seemed unable to withdraw his gaze from the spot. 
 Leaning against a post, which screened him from ob- 
 servation, he looked as if entirely unconscious of his 
 surroundings. He seemed not to care for the cheers 
 of the multitude, the splendid feats of the players, the 
 presence of pretty young ladies, who clapped their 
 hands in applause at a good play. He was startled 
 from his abstraction by a slap upon the shoulder and 
 a familiar voice exclaimed : 
 
 ' ' Gerry, what are you dreaming about ? You have 
 been gazing at that carriage five minutes without 
 winking your eye. What is it, old fellow?" 
 
 6 1 Who is that lady, Dick?" 
 
 1 6 That lady, indeed ! How can I know who you are 
 talking about when there are at least a hundred ladies 
 in sight?" 
 
 "Oh, the one in the carriage?" the other said, im- 
 patiently, still looking in that direction as if afraid 
 to lose sight ef it. 
 
 6 c The one in the carriage, you simpleton, when there 
 are three ladies, all pretty, in the carriage." 
 
 6 6 Of course, I mean the one that is so beautiful she 
 glorifies everything around her," was the reply. 
 
 "It depends upon whom you ask that question. If 
 you ask the Judge who sits by Miss Eva Norris, he 
 would doubtless say she is the lady to whom your 
 question pertains." 
 
 1 1 Oh, goosey, not the lady sitting by the man, but 
 the one sitting opposite him?" 
 
 "Oh, now you have come to something definite, I 
 can answer you. That is ' The beautiful snow-queen. ' ' ' 
 
AN EVENING DRIVE 229 
 
 "Who?" the stranger asked in surprise. "Surely 
 that is not her name ? ' ' 
 
 "Well, as you seem so crazy to know, it is Mrs. 
 Devereux, a young widow who takes everybody's heart 
 by storm and reigns over their affections right royally, 
 but who is as cold as snow to her devoted subjects.' ' 
 
 "She doesn't seem so cold," was the rejoinder, as 
 his gaze lingered on the vision of loveliness that had 
 so enchanted him. 
 
 "Doesn't seem cold! You look out upon the pure 
 white snow, so beautiful you are delighted, and it 
 doesn't seem cold, but if you feel it, you will find out 
 it has that quality. So with the lovely Mrs. Devereux. 
 If you admire her at a distance, don't show the ad- 
 miration you feel for her, she is very fair, friendly 
 and gracious; but you mustn't approach too near or 
 you'll feel the chilling effect upon your heart, as so 
 many others have done." 
 
 "Oh, Dick, hush your palaver and foolishness and 
 tell me who the lady is, where she lives and all about 
 her. I'm in earnest." 
 
 "Well, she boards at my hotel. I have the great 
 honor of sitting at the table with her, and sometimes 
 even of provoking a smile from her majesty. I act 
 the fool to amuse her while at her meals and feel 
 amply repaid if I can say something to bring a laugh 
 to those lovely lips. I confess I am her abject slave, 
 and have been so since the first moment I saw her; 
 but I have to worship afar off." 
 
 "Dick, introduce me, please. I just must meet 
 her," urged his friend. 
 
 "Wouldn't dare do anything of the kind," was the 
 nonchalant answer. 
 
 "Come now, Dick. You and I are old friends. 
 Help me out. Get me a place at your hotel and a 
 
2&) LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 place at the table and I will be yours for life. Now. 
 won't you, Dick? I am just completely struck. I 
 never loved but one lady in my life. She is dead and 
 this one is just like her — so much so I could swear to 
 her identity if I didn't know she was sleeping in her 
 grave." By this time the carriage had disappeared 
 and the two friends were left in earnest conversation. 
 The last words of Dick Beckwith as they parted at 
 the street corner that evening were : 
 
 "I'll do my best for you, Gerry, and let you know. 
 But don't take it too much to heart if I don't succeed. 
 We are full, as I told you, but maybe I can crowd 
 you in with me. Come tomorrow morning, anyway, ' ' 
 and Dick was on his way to the hotel, whistling softly 
 "Auld lang Syne." 
 
 He was the nephew of the proprietor and rumor 
 said was in love with Iva Chastine. He was a frank, 
 genial, jovial young man, seeming to care for nothing 
 but fun and frolic; but those who knew him best 
 knew T that beneath that gay exterior he carried a 
 warm, kind heart, ever ready to do a favor for anyone 
 he could. Mr. Beckwith loved him as if he had been 
 his own son, and there was no young man more pop- 
 ular with old and young thaxi jolly Dick Beckwith. 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 281 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 The evening after the drive Lillian and Eva spent 
 at Mrs. Chastine's. After tea, Mrs. Chester Chastine 
 took Lillian to the conservatory to show her the bloom 
 of some rare exotics, in the growth of which she was 
 greatly interested. The flowers were so beautiful and 
 fragrant they lingered among them, admiring the 
 peculiar beauty of each, until voices in the adjoining 
 room attracted their attention. They listened and 
 Mrs. Chester whispered : 
 
 "It is Dick Beckwith and his friend, Mr. Gerald) 
 Lemoine. ' ' 
 
 "Gerald Lemoine!" Lillian repeated in surprise. 
 
 "Yes, it is a peculiar name, but it's pretty, I think. 
 Dick came in a few minutes this morning to ask the 
 girls' permission to bring his friend, who has just 
 returned from abroad somewhere, to take possession 
 of quite a snug little fortune left him by a distant 
 relative. He used to live here when a boy, and he 
 and Dick went to school together and were quite 
 chums, it seems. Dick says he was a great student 
 and very bright. Let's see how he looks. We can 
 easily see through the glass doors without being 
 seen, ' ' and she stepped softly to the door, not having 
 noticed the strange look that had crept into Lillian's 
 face. 
 
 Could it be the Gerald Lemoine of her youthful 
 days who, after so many years, had again crossed her 
 path? Could it be the man who had once professed 
 such love for her and then had given her up for posi- 
 tion and wealth? If it were he, would he recognize 
 
LILLIAN BeVERE 
 
 her after so many years, and would she have to tell 
 him of her sad past, which she was striving so hard to 
 bury, with all its sweet memories, in her own heart? 
 Almost mechanically she followed softly after Mrs. 
 Chester, and, looking through the glass that inter- 
 vened, knew by one glance that it was her former 
 lover, Gerald Lemoine. He was darker from the ef- 
 fects of the tropical clime, but the years had dealt 
 v6ry kindly with him. Indeed, as she looked she saw 
 that his face was more attractive than it had been in 
 bygone days. In those days it had a settled, serious 
 look of grim determination that in repose detracted 
 from it and gave it an older appearance than his years 
 justified. This was gone now and his face wore a 
 bright, cheerful expression very becoming to it. Life 
 in his youth had been a battle, now it was a song, and 
 the effect had been almost magical. 
 
 Thoughts thronged her, but in the midst of them 
 she heard her companion whisper : 
 
 "He is not very handsome, but has a fine face, an 
 intellectual cast of countenance, and his dress of ele- 
 gant black accords with it and sets off to advantage 
 his tall, well-formed figure. But I must go to baby. 
 Go in and be introduced to the stranger." 
 
 "I prefer to stay among the flowers awhile/' 
 Lillian said quietly. 
 
 "Well, I will go out of the side door, get baby to 
 sleep and come back as soon as I can," Mrs. Chester 
 said. Knowing Lillian's fondness for flowers and her 
 utter indifference to gentlemen's society, her decision 
 to remain in the conservatory did not in the least sur- 
 prise her. 
 
 Lillian was glad to be alone. She was sorry to 
 meet Gerald Lemoine again. She had never dreamed 
 of it. She imagined he had gone entirely out of her 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 2$3 
 
 life, and now he had come into her very midst, where 
 she must meet him, either as a stranger or as a former 
 friend. Why had he come to awaken painful memories 
 which had been dormant for so many years— to flaunt 
 the flag of the past over the peaceful present? Was 
 there to be no permanent peace for her? She must 
 meet him as a stranger, and, if he did not recognize 
 her, she could treat him with the reserve with which 
 she treated other men, and it would excite no com- 
 ment. 
 
 Busy with her thoughts, she was surprised when 
 Mrs. Chester returned, and soon she was standing be- 
 fore Gerald Lemoine, who met her as an utter 
 stranger, and during the evening she caught often his 
 admiring look, but there was no recognition in it, 
 nothing to show that he had ever seen her before. 
 For this Lillian was very thankful and was herself as 
 composed as if he were the stranger he seemed. A 
 few days after he became a guest of the hotel, and as 
 Dick's friend had a seat at the table. Thus thrown 
 together so often, Lillian's reserve melted imper- 
 ceptibly to herself towards Gerald. He was so much 
 more pleasant and entertaining than formerly. She 
 found herself unable to treat as a stranger one she 
 had known so well, and soon they were good friends. 
 From him she received attentions she had not allowed 
 others, and seemed to take more pleasure in his society, 
 so it began to be whispered after awhile that Mr. Le- 
 moine was Mrs. Devereux's favored suitor. As no one 
 dared to say this to Lillian, she was in ignorance of 
 the fact that she was exciting comment for what was 
 so natural to her. She did not consider that Gerald 
 Lemoine knew her only as a stranger and was en- 
 couraged by her friendship for him. She afterwards 
 greatly blamed herself for her blindness in thus rajs- 
 
LILLIAN DeVERE i > 
 
 leading him. She was too true a woman, too true to 
 every womanly instinct of a noble nature to strive to 
 win the love she could not return. 
 
 Mr. Lemoine was a frequent visitor at Mrs. Chas- 
 tine's, and she hoped he would love Viola. But 
 Gerald Lemoine loved Lillian now as he had never 
 loved her in her youth. Then there had been mixed 
 with his love a selfish ambition which was a stronger 
 passion than any other, even love for the peerless 
 Lillian De Vere. Now that ambition gratified, a rich 
 man with means to indulge every reasonable desire, 
 his whole wealth of love went out for one object, the 
 lovely Mrs. Devereux. The winter passed; such a 
 pleasant winter it was to our friends. 
 
 Gerald Lemoine had flitted around Lillian like a 
 moth around a candle until at last one evening in the 
 spring he told her of his love. She sat very quiet as 
 he told her of how he had loved a gloriously beautiful 
 girl who would not leave her aunt to go with him to 
 the position he had chosen. 
 
 "As I look back upon my conduct, I feel how un- 
 reasonable I was to ask her to do such a thing. In 
 my ambition to be a rich man I was incapable of 
 appreciating the lovely traits of character that made 
 Lillian De Vere more charming even than her tran- 
 scendent beauty. I wrote to her several times, but 
 received no reply. I felt then I had killed every 
 particle of love, even of respect, she had felt for me, 
 and I despised myself as I knew she despised me. 
 Still I worked on, giving myself but little rest, saving 
 my money, that at some time I might be rich. A few 
 months ago came the news of a legacy that had been 
 left me. My first thought on receiving it was to find 
 out what had become of Lillian. I felt confident she 
 was married. Such marvelous beauty, such grace of 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 235 
 
 manner and sweetness of disposition had, I felt as- 
 sured, won the love of some better man ! After many 
 weeks' search I found she had married and that she 
 and her husband were both dead. I went to the grand 
 old place that had been their home, and there I saw 
 the grave of the girl I had loved so fondly, but so 
 selfishly. I thought I would never love again, but 
 one evening I saw you, and you were so strikingly like 
 my lost Lillian I loved you at once. Can you love 
 me?" 
 
 Then he pleaded very eloquently. Lillian gave him 
 a very gentle but firm refusal. 
 
 4 'I, too, have loved and lost," was Lillian's quiet 
 answer. 4 4 My love lies in my husband's grave, and I 
 can never give it to another. I am exceedingly sorry 
 if I have in any way unconsciously led you to expect 
 any other answer to your suit. I have taken no pains 
 to conceal the fact that I do not wish to marry again. 
 I honor you for your candor in telling me of your first 
 love, but I would advise you in seeking a wife not to 
 tell her of your former unhappy experience, as it 
 might not be palatable to your lady-love to know yon 
 had loved another. Let that be a secret locked in 
 your own breast, to which she has no right, for I 
 suppose very few people marry their first love, and 
 are none the less happy for not doing so. ' ' 
 
 That night Gerald was absent from his place at the 
 table, and Dick said he had been called off suddenly 
 on important business. The next evening Judge Allan 
 and Eva sat in the parlor discussing Lillian and her 
 affairs, as they were both fond of doing. 
 
 4 4 Do you think she will marry that fellow Le- 
 moine?" the Judge asked. 
 
 "I think she will," Eva answered, thoughtfully. 
 " She seems to like him better than any other gentle- 
 
236 
 
 LILLIAN DbVERE 
 
 man. I saw her looking at his picture in an album 
 once and I never saw her look at any other gentle- 
 man's. He may be gone off now to make preparations 
 for the marriage.'' 
 
 • 4 Probably so. I saw her blush a little tonight 
 when Dick said he had gone off on important business. 
 That will be very important to him/' and the Judge 
 smiled a grim sort of smile and something that looked 
 like defiance shone in his eye. Somehow, for some 
 reason, unaccountable to Eva, the Judge seemed very 
 much excited, very preoccupied, too. At last, after 
 several ineffectual attempts to rally to his accustomed 
 composure, he excused himself on the score of business 
 and started off to his room. As he reached the door, 
 he turned back and whispered to Eva : 
 
 "As soon as you find out when the wedding is to 
 be, let me know." 
 
 "I will," was the whispered answer. Eva sat at 
 the window, apparently looking at the passers-by, but 
 she was wondering what made Judge Allan look so 
 strange when he spoke of Mrs. Devereux marrying 
 Mr. Lemoine. 
 
 4 'He really looked as if he was angry, and yet he 
 cannot be, for while he admires her as everybody does, 
 surely he cannot love her," and the girl looked very 
 sadatsueh a thought ; and yet his looks and deferential 
 n^anners to Mrs. Devereux had sometimes made her 
 very jealous, for, poor girl, she had given this man all 
 her warm young heart. 
 
 "It must be professional business — a perplexing 
 case it may be," she whispered to herself. Though 
 he went off sometimes and stayed two or three weeks 
 at a time, he never in any way alluded to his profes- 
 sional duties. 
 
 Judge Allan, on reaching his room, pulled a large 
 
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 237 
 
 easy chair to the window and was soon lost in 
 thought. Sometimes he would spring up, with flash- 
 ing eyes and clenched fists, and his face distorted 
 with emotions of intense hatred or anger, then he 
 would settle back and for a time be so still, so mo- 
 tionless, he would have served as a model of "Medita- 
 tion." 
 
 A few nights after, as he came from the dining- 
 room, a little piece of paper was slipped in his hand. 
 On it were the words : "It will be very soon, I think. 
 The dresses have been ordered. You'll understand, 
 I know." 
 
 A gleam of anger flashed over his face for an 
 instant, then with the greatest coolness he twisted 
 the paper into a lighter, stepped to the gas, lighted 
 his cigar and, his usual imperturbable self, sauntered 
 off. 
 
238 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE TELL-TALE LETTER. 
 
 One morning Lillian overslept herself and was not 
 ready when Eva knocked at her door on her way to 
 breakfast. Ten minutes later she was hurrying down 
 the steps, when the sight of a letter on the step below 
 her arrested her. She picked it up, turned it over 
 and saw that it was Judge Allan's, and was post- 
 marked "Anston." The letter had been carelessly 
 thrust into the envelope, and on the margin her eye 
 caught the words Evelyn Brown. She wondered who 
 at Anston could be writing to Judge Allan about 
 Evelyn Brown. At that moment the thought came, 
 Where had she seen that peculiar handwriting? 
 Fascinated, she gazed at it. Could it be the hand- 
 writing of Walter Brunette's mother? It was start- 
 lingly like that she had seen in the villa at ' 1 Queen's 
 Beach." What could that man's mother write to 
 Judge Allan about? Just then she heard some one 
 coming, and, without even thinking why, she fled 
 to her room, the missive clasped tightly in her hand. 
 Locking the door, she turned it over and over, her 
 mind in a perfect whirl, as it always was when the 
 thought of AValter Brunette intruded. In vain she 
 reasoned that the letter was Judge Allan's private 
 property and should be returned to him at once. At 
 first the very idea of reading it brought a flush to 
 her cheek, but the more she reasoned against it, the 
 stronger was the temptation to find out the contents. 
 
 At last she decided to read it, arguing that if she 
 
 did not she would feel uneasy all the time lest it was 
 
THE TELL-TALE LETTER 239 
 
 something connected with herself which she should 
 know ; while if it was only some law business con- 
 nected with Evelyn Brown's estate, as it probably 
 was, her reading it could not do any harm. So draw- 
 ing the letter from the envelope, she read as follows, 
 with what feelings can be better imagined than de- 
 scribed : 
 
 My Dear: Your last duly received and enjoyed. 
 As Evelyn is not here — went yesterday morning to 
 Brownley to attend to some business — and as you 
 urged a speedy reply, I will answer at once and set 
 you at rest in regard to the woman you ask about. 
 Yes, she is certainly dead. I know when she was 
 brought home and buried ; heard about it, at least, at 
 the time, but to make assurance doubly sure, yester- 
 day evening I made John hitch up the carriage and 
 drive me over to the Hall. I knew the housekeeper 
 wouldn't know me, so I went in as a stranger who 
 was passing by and wished to see the place. The old 
 woman took me all through the house, which I had 
 never seen since it was beautified and modernized by 
 Dr. Nelson. When she led me into the art room and 
 showed me the picture of that woman who has wrecked 
 your life and mine, I could hardly repress my anger, 
 and turned away suddenly to look at another picture 
 lest the old woman should notice it. I asked her to 
 whom the Hall belonged now. She said it was to be- 
 long to any Nelsons who would prove their claim to 
 it, but none had yet been found. At my request she 
 took me to the graveyard, where, with my own eyes, I 
 saw the graves of the husband and wife, with similar 
 monuments. At the side of the mother was the grave 
 of their little baby boy that had died. They were all 
 as nicely kept as possible and covered with fresh 
 flowers. So you may give yourself no further un- 
 
240 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERK 
 
 easiness on that score. The resemblance you speak of 
 as being so striking is either accidental or the widow 
 may be a distant relative, as she is, you say, of French 
 extraction. I don't blame you for not wanting that 
 prig Lemoine to cut you out. As a boy he was hate- 
 ful, and now he has a little money I'm sure he is 
 disgusting. I'm uneasy lest he discover your identity. 
 He is very shrewd and I want you to beware of him. 
 though I know you are extremely clever in your dis- 
 guise when you can deceive your own mother, as you 
 have done several times as a peddler. Still a thought- 
 less word or expression might expose you, and you 
 know, my darling, if anything should happen to you 
 it would kill me, for you are, as you have ever been, 
 the dearest object on earth. Write often, for your 
 letters are the brightest things that come to our 
 darkened home. I had hoped so earnestly you would 
 love Evelyn, as she loves you. If so, we could sell 
 out everything here, go to some foreign country and 
 yet be happy. But your infatuation for that woman 
 and now for one who resembles her dashes away all 
 my hopes in that regard. Oh, my boy, my boy, would 
 she had died ere your eyes beheld the fatal beauty 
 that has made you an outcast from your home. It is 
 strange what infatuation beauty has ever held for 
 you, even from a child. Alas ! alas ! my son, that you 
 did not realize how vain and deceitful it is ! I have 
 written you a much longer letter than usual, but I am 
 always so lonely and sad when Evelyn is away. It 
 comforts me to write to you when I cannot see you. 
 Surely you would deny no comfort to your poor 
 mother, who has so few comforts or joys now. If 
 you marry the woman go at once to France, make a 
 home there, and Evelyn and I will join you. Write 
 very soon, my love. Lovingly yours. 
 
THE TELL-TALE LETTER 241 
 
 When Lillian finished reading this letter that did, 
 indeed, as she had an intuition, pertain so much to 
 her, she sat for some time stunned as if by a sudden 
 blow, from which she found it difficult to recover a 
 sense of her surroundings, to know just what it all 
 meant. But she had been so often confronted by 
 danger and difficulties, she came to herself more 
 quickly than a novice in trouble would have done, 
 and began to think it all out. Eva had come to the 
 door and knocked, wishing to know if she would have 
 her breakfast sent to her. Lillian had replied she 
 wished no breakfast, but desired to be quiet Cor awhile. 
 She knew Judge Allan was Walter Brunette in dis- 
 guise. What an adept in disguise the man was ! AYhen 
 he could deceive his own mother, it was not so strange 
 he should deceive others. In his character of judge 
 he was deceiving Eva, whose fondness for his society 
 she had noticed with some misgivings, but knew not 
 how to interfere, though she felt quite sure the man 
 liked her only as a friend. Now that she knew the 
 arch-traitor, she must flee, not only for her own sake, 
 but for that of the young girl who was under her 
 care. She felt she could not again sit at the same 
 table, nor sleep under the same roof with him. His 
 mother had spoken of his marrying her. Surely she 
 had mistaken the man 's sentiments for her, for while 
 she could now interpret many looks, many attentions, 
 many things that had appeared as trifles to her, still 
 he had given no direct proof that he admired her 
 more than other men had done. Was he, by his deli- 
 cate attentions, by means of that magnetism which 
 almost irresistibly drew all who knew him to like and 
 admire him, trying to win her love ? It must be so. 
 She shuddered at the thought. 
 
 Lillian could think quickly and act as quickly. The 
 
242 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 resolve was made at once. She must leave the city 
 without delay, and as secretly as possible. With the 
 greatest possible dispatch she set to work to pack up. 
 She had decided to tell Eva nothing of her plans until 
 after dinner, then she would help her pack; but a 
 servant had brought her some water, and when she 
 left, Lillian had neglected to lock the door. About 
 an hour before dinner, Eva came to the door, and, 
 after a slight knock, opened it. She was surprised 
 to see Lillian busy packing and to be told they were 
 to leave the city early the next morning. 
 
 "Can I trust you, Eva, with a very important 
 secret — one you must disclose to no human being V r 
 
 Eva replied she could. 
 
 "Well, then, something of vital interest to me, and, 
 it may be, to you, has occurred to make me leave this 
 city at once. We must pack today, make all prepara- 
 tions as quickly and as rapidly as possible. I shall 
 spend the night with Mrs. Chastine and shall send 
 Viola to stay with you, as they have company, and 
 their house is full. Go pack now and I shall tell you 
 my further plans later." 
 
 When Eva came by for dinner she said : 
 
 "Have my dinner sent to me. I am tired, but do 
 not give any excuse for my not coming to the table. 
 Remember your promise and do not tell anyone, even 
 your friend, Judge Allan, of our plans. I will some- 
 time explain all to you." 
 
 Eva repeated her promise, though she had in her 
 pocket a note to Judge Allan telling him as much of 
 Lillian's plans as she herself knew. Oh, the pro- 
 gressiveness of sin, the power of love that sometimes 
 makes us false to ourselves and untrue to others that 
 we may be loyal to the object of our affections ! 
 
 That evening, after the packing was all finished, 
 
THE TELL-TALE LETTER 248 
 
 Lillian told Eva to meet her at the train that left very 
 early for Baton Rouge. She would ask Mr. Beck- 
 with to secure her a carriage and conveyance for the 
 baggage. She was quite sure Viola would go to the 
 train with her. 
 
 "If I should fail to get there in time, as they 
 breakfast late at Mrs. Chastine's, I wish you to get 
 your ticket and check and have all my baggage ex- 
 pressed to Baton Rouge. Then take the first train, 
 and on your arrival at the city secure a carriage and 
 direct to be driven to a first-class hotel. On the next 
 train I will come and make further arrangements. I 
 shall, however, make every effort to get there in 
 time." 
 
 It was later than she had anticipated when she had 
 finished settling her bill and perfected her final ar- 
 rangements so as to give Eva no trouble. The office 
 was brilliantly lighted and the gas on the street 
 seemed dim in comparison. Being residences, there 
 were fewer lights than on the business streets, and 
 Lillian, more nervous and excited than usual, felt 
 herself afraid to go the short distance to Mrs. Chas- 
 tine's. She looked around, hoping to see Dick or 
 some one she knew to ask his protection, but there was 
 no one save the clerk, who, of course, could not leave. 
 Chiding herself for her timidity, she passed into the 
 street and walked rapidly in the direction of Mrs. 
 Chastine's home, thinking how surprised her friend 
 would be at the story she had to tell. How she 
 wished she was safely there ! 
 
244 
 
 LILLIAN DbVBRE 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 WHERE WAS SHE f 
 
 After Lillian left her, Eva lingered around, hoping 
 Judge Allan would come and tell her good-bye before 
 Viola Chastine should arrive. Surely he would tell 
 her good-bye and give her some assurance of his love 
 now they were to be parted for an indefinite time. If 
 he would ask her to be his wife, she would not go with 
 Lillian — would give up her position and remain to 
 be the happy wife of the man she loved so fondly. 
 Why was Mrs. Devereux going away so hastily and so 
 secretly? Was it to be an elopement with Mr. Le- 
 moine instead of the grand marriage she had antici- 
 pated ? It must be so. But why should they elope ? 
 There was no one to oppose their marriage ; they were 
 both free to do as they pleased. She had heard Mr. 
 Lemoine say if he ever married, he should like it to 
 be an event that would make a stir among his friends, 
 something romantic — out of the ordinary course of 
 events. Had he persuaded Mrs. Devereux to take 
 this step to gratify this desire on his part? She 
 could think of nothing else and decided she was right- 
 Supper came and neither Judge Allan nor Viola Chas- 
 tine put in an appearance. Surely they would come 
 later, but the hours went by and neither came. She 
 would have gone to Mrs. Chastine % but there was no 
 one to go with her. Oh, if only the Judge would 
 come and take her there ! She was afraid to sleep in 
 her room with Mrs. Devereux gone. It was strange 
 Mrs. Devereux had not sent some one else if Viola 
 could not come. She had always been so kind, so con- 
 
WHERE WAS SHE 
 
 243 
 
 siderate to her. At last, when all hope of Viola's 
 coming was gone, she went to her room, and, after a 
 long time, fell into a troubled sleep, from which she 
 was awakened by the maid whom she had asked to 
 arouse her in time for the train. With the sunlight 
 flooding the room, her fears and gloom disappeared, 
 and soon she was carrying out Lillian's directions 
 with but few traces of the agitation of the previous 
 night. 
 
 She reached the depot in ample time, and, after 
 securing her ticket and check and expressing Lillian's 
 baggage as she had desired, she anxiously awaited her 
 friend's arrival. She had never traveled much and 
 felt nervous at the idea of undertaking the trip alone ; 
 but she looked in vain, and when the train left she 
 left on it with a sad heart that Mrs. Devereux had not 
 come and Judge Allan hadn 't told her good-bye. The 
 latter seems a simple thing to a third party, but it 
 meant much to this loving, trustful girl. She secured 
 a room at the hotel for the day and met the second 
 train. Judge her disappointment and surprise when 
 Mrs. Devereux did not come, and this surprise greatly 
 increased when on telegraphing to that lady at Mrs. 
 Chastine's, Mrs. Chastine replied that she had not 
 seen Mrs. Devereux and had no idea of her intention 
 of leaving the city. 
 
 Thinking this exceedingly strange, and not know- 
 ing what else to do, she took the next train back to 
 New Orleans with all Mrs. Devereux 's effects. All 
 Lillian's friends were at once thrown into the greatest 
 consternation at her strange and sudden disappear- 
 ance. Mrs. Chastine made Eva go over and ove» 
 every word that passed between her and Lillian the 
 last day at the hotel. 
 
 ' ■ Something has happened to her. She was way- 
 
LILLIAN DbVBBE 
 
 laid, perhaps robbed and killed on her way to our 
 home," she protested, in spite of her son's and Mr. 
 Scott's arguments against the unreasonableness of 
 such a thing. 
 
 "I know Mrs. Devereux would not have told Eva 
 she was coming to my house if she had any idea of 
 going elsewhere, and she would not have given such 
 explicit directions about everything." 
 
 When Eva suggested an elopment Mrs. Chastine 
 shook her head decidedly, saying : 
 
 " Mrs. Devereux is a remarkably sensible woman* 
 I have admired her as much for her good sense as for 
 her rare beauty and graceful manners. She wouldn't 
 have done anything so silly as to elope to produce a 
 sensation. No, no ; take my word for it, there is foul 
 play, and that arch-traitor, Walter Brunette, is at 
 the bottom of it. I think nothing would give me 
 more satisfaction than to see him hung." 
 
 Every effort was made to find out where Lillian 
 was. The police were notified of her disappearance 
 and told to be on the lookout. Detectives were given 
 the case and offered large rewards for any news. Ad- 
 vertisements were inserted in all the leading papers, 
 so worded that if she saw them she would understand 
 the anxiety of her friends and yet no publicity be 
 given. All her friends knew she was extremely sensi- 
 tive about figuring in public in any way. Even an 
 allusion in the daily paper of her presence at some 
 lady's sociable or high tea and a compliment to her 
 rare beauty seemed rather to annoy than to gratify 
 her. This may have been from her great fear of her 
 enemy lest he should in some way again find and 
 molest her. Eva was staying at Mrs. Chastine 's until 
 some news of her employer could be obtained. She 
 had seen Judge Allan but once since Mrs. Devereux 's 
 
WHERE WAS SHE 
 
 247 
 
 disappearance. He tad met her on the street and 
 taken her to get ice cream. While they ate it he had 
 asked her many questions about what people thought 
 had become of the lady. She told him Mrs. Chastine 
 said a terribly wicked man who had given her a great 
 deal of trouble had no doubt found out her hiding 
 place and abducted her. He looked at her very seri- 
 ously and with a look that greatly perplexed her when 
 she told him this. He laughed when she gave her 
 opinion that Mrs. Devereux had eloped with Mr. Le- 
 moine. 
 
 "Why should they have eloped?" he asked. 
 
 "Because Mr. Lemoine said he wished to create a 
 sensation when he married, and this is certainly a 
 sensation. Now, Judge, ' ' she asked, looking anxiously 
 into his face, "what do you think of this sensational 
 affair?" 
 
 "I think," he replied, very slowly, "that Mrs. 
 Devereux is safe with the man who loves her and that 
 in due time she will make her reappearance into so- 
 ciety as a married lady." 
 
 "Then why did you laugh so quizzically when I 
 expressed a similar opinion ? ' ' Eva asked, puzzled at 
 his words and manner. 
 
 "Merely because your opinion coincided so entirely 
 with my own, and it seems we are the only ones that 
 believe this; but rest assured we are correct, as time 
 will prove." 
 
 "But why did Mrs. Devereux act so strangely to- 
 wards me? Why did she send me on that unneces; 
 sary trip to Baton Rouge ? Then she told me she was 
 going to Mrs. Chastine's and send Viola to spend the 
 night with me, neither of which she did. It is all 
 very strange, don't you think so?" 
 
 "My dear Miss Eva," was the calm reply, "when 
 
248 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 you are as old as I am you will cease to be surprised 
 at anything that occurs. Nothing seems strange to 
 me. If it is a little out of the ordinary course of 
 events, I know it is only the natural sequence of some 
 grand law we sometimes call destiny. Shakespeare 
 understood this fully and said: 
 
 t 'There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough hew them as we will." 
 
 "Do not worry yourself about the matter, my little 
 friend. In due time it will all come right, and theii 
 it will be satisfactorily explained. ' ' 
 
 Eva thought much of Judge Allan's words and 
 manner after he left her. Somehow she couldn't dis- 
 miss the idea that he knew more about Lillian's dis- 
 appearance than he cared to tell. While he asserted 
 nothing was strange to him, everything about the af- 
 fair seemed strange to her. If Judge Allan knew 
 more than her friends, why should he? Mrs. Dever- 
 eux certainly never treated him as a friend. While 
 she was courteous to him, she seemed rather to avoid 
 him. She would never accept any of his presents 
 except, perhaps, to taste the fruit or admire the 
 flowers. The only attention she had ever received 
 from him was the drive and she had to beg her to go. 
 No, she felt very sure Mrs. Devereux would not have 
 confided her plans to Judge Allan, and just as sure 
 Mr. Lemoine would not, as there was no semblance of 
 friendship between the two men. Mr. Lemoine had 
 seemed to want to be friendly to Judge Allan, but 
 that gentleman had resisted all his overtures. To 
 Eva he had spoken in the most contemptuous terms of 
 Mr. Lemoine. 
 
 After her interview with Judge Allan she had been 
 
WHERE WAS SHE 
 
 249 
 
 more mystified than ever in regard to Lillian *s where- 
 abouts, and as the days lengthened into weeks and 
 no tidings came, she became hopeless of Lillian's re- 
 turn. Through Mrs. Chastine 's influence she obtained 
 a position as governess of two small children in the 
 family of a widow lady who lived but two squares 
 from the Chastines. When about six weeks after 
 Lillian's disappearance Mr. Lemoine appeared in the 
 city and was as much surprised and grieved as every- 
 one else, the mystery deepened, and the shadow- that 
 had settled upon the hearts of Lillian's friends grew 
 darker. 
 
 Judge Allan still boarded at the hotel and came and 
 went in his usual quiet manner, if possible more re- 
 served and quiet than was his wont. He never dis- 
 cussed Lillian's disappearance, but seemed intensely 
 interested when others discussed it. If anyone asked 
 his opinion he gave substantially that which he had 
 given to Eva. 
 
 Gerald Lemoine became as excited and interested 
 as the Chastines and vowed he would leave no stone 
 unturned to unravel the mystery. Tie had left the 
 city after Lillian's refusal and turned his attention 
 to business in the hope of conquering his love for the 
 fair widow ; but such a yearning desire to see her, to 
 be her friend, if he could not be her lover, came over 
 him, he determined to return to the city and enjoy 
 the society of the lady he loved, though his should be 
 the fate of the moth fitting around the light. 
 
 Yes, he would go and bask in the light of her sweet 
 smiles, though they meant only friendship for him. 
 So he had come back to learn of the mystery that 
 enshrouded her. One day, talking over the matter 
 with Mrs. Chastine, that lady had said excitedly : 
 
 "I believe it is foul play on the part of that per- 
 
260 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 fidious villain, Walter Brunette, who has been the 
 bane of her life for so many years. " 
 
 "Who?" Gerald Lemoine had asked, in the greatest 
 surprise. 
 
 "Walter Brunette," was the reply, and Mrs. Chas- 
 tine told him how that man had persecuted Lillian. 
 When she had finished Mr. Lemoine exclaimed: 
 
 "If she is in the clutches of that unprincipled 
 villain, may heaven protect her. I knew him as a boy. 
 He was my step-brother and was the most stubborn, 
 persistent, self-willed person I ever saw. No difficulty 
 daunted him, no lesson at school was too hard for him 
 to master, no pleasure too unreasonable to be denied, 
 no plan too difficult to be attempted and carried out. 
 Indeed, the difficulties that stood in his way seemed 
 to act as so many incentives to urge him on to success. 
 
 If he found out she was recued from death, he has 
 abducted her, and it wall be almost a matter of impos- 
 sibility to foil him, and yet we must use every effort 
 to do so. Oh, that I knew which way to turn, could 
 only obtain some clue to her fate ! ' ' 
 
QAPT. HAL 
 
 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIL 
 
 GAPT. HAL. 
 
 Capt. Hal McCarthy, owner of the merchantman, 
 k ' Scotch Cap," was in a towering rage and all his 
 men steered clear of him, for as one of them said : 
 
 1 1 Captain Hal was an all-right man when he was all 
 right and an all- wrong man when he was all- wrong. ' ' 
 
 On this occasion, not even Captain Harry, his 
 nephew, who sometimes dared brave his uncle's an- 
 ger, tried to mitigate his wrath — he seemed rather to 
 be gratified by it, as if he understood it and wished to 
 profit by it in some way. For several years past, 
 Capt. Hal had made it convenient to put in at Lon- 
 don every November. For three consecutive years, 
 he had returned from a trip to that city, greatly en- 
 raged, muttering threats of vengeance upon some un- 
 known person. By degrees his anger would subside 
 and stay quiet until the next year. 
 
 He had never been so bad as on this present occa- 
 sion. He was a fat, round red-faced man, whose face 
 took on several shades of its natural color when he 
 was mad and the sailors had never seen it so red as 
 now. 
 
 Everybody was very quiet and tried unusually hard 
 to please, lest he should empty a bottle of his efferves- 
 cing wrath upon their head. 
 
 Capt. Hal was a character it is difficult to sketch. 
 He had some very decidedly good qualities and 
 some very decidedly bad ones, and as he was very im- 
 pulsive, it was not easy to say which would sway him 
 in any particular transaction. He would have 
 knocked any man down without delay if he had in 
 
252 
 
 LILLIAN PeVERE 
 
 any way questioned his honor as a business man, and 
 yet he often did things and made bargains he was 
 ashamed to let his clear-headed, noble-hearted nephew 
 know of ; feeling instinctively Capt. Harry would dis- 
 approve of them and show it in a way that would 
 make him feel uncomfortable. He would let no one 
 question his right or authority in anything, not even 
 his nephew, to whom he allowed more privileges than 
 to anyone else, and who could influence him more, and 
 yet, being of an obstinate, independent nature, he 
 would not have admitted that fact even to himself. 
 
 There were three objects that Capt. Hal loved with 
 all the passion of his passionate nature. First, he 
 loved the sea — he was a true tar in his love for the 
 water. When he asked the only woman he had ever 
 loved to be his wife, and she had replied that she 
 would marry him if he would settle down on land, as 
 she was afraid of the water, he had angrily told her 
 that he was born on the water and had drawn in a love 
 of it with every whiff of air he had breathed, and if 
 she was afraid of it, she could marry some contempti- 
 ble "land-skeeter" for what he cared, and he would 
 still cling to his first love. 
 
 "When he put in that port about a year later, she had 
 sent him word she had reconsidered his question and 
 he coolly sent back word he had reconsidered, too, and 
 thus his only love affair had ended. 
 
 When a year later, his only brother, who for love 
 of a girl had left the sea, died of a pestilential fever 
 that had carried off his wife a few weeks before, leav- 
 ing his orphan boy of eight years to his care, Capt. 
 Hal received the charge willingly and had given the 
 handsome, frank, genial boy every advantage. The 
 uncle and nephew r loved each other with a strong, pe- 
 culiar affection for natures so entirely opposite. 
 
CAPT, HAL 
 
 253 
 
 It was a cross to both when "Capt. Harry," as the 
 sailors had always called the boy, had to leave the ves- 
 sel and go to college, and it was a high-day when 
 school over, he returned to the companionship of his 
 uncle and the men who for so many years had been 
 his friends, testifying for him their love in every way 
 known to them. 
 
 Next to the sea and his nephew, Capt. Hal. loved 
 money. He used to argue to himself that he wished 
 it for Captain Harry's sake, but after he had ac- 
 quired quite a competency, and as he grew older, it 
 became a passion with him. 
 
 George Bancroft says avarice is the vice of later 
 years. It was so in his case. Capt. Hal was never 
 satisfied unless he was accumulating money and when 
 his nephew tried to induce him not to work so hard 
 to amass wealth, he would say he was working for 
 him and call him ungrateful, for even proposing his 
 resting and turning the business over into his neph- 
 ew's hands. He used often to say when Capt. Harry 
 proposed to relieve him of some responsibility: 
 
 6 ' Young fish think old fish ar v fools and old fish 
 know young ones are. No, no, fo \ng man, when this 
 old head is resting in the sea-caverns and these old 
 bones are bleaching in sea-water, you will be captain 
 of this vessel, and not until then." 
 
 There was one piece of business the old Captain had 
 never told his nephew all about ; had never even told 
 him how it was negotiated. The year before Capt. 
 Harry graduated, while he was yet at college, Capt, 
 Hal 's business took him up the river to the little town 
 of Melton, where he resolved to stay several clays to 
 give his men rest from a longer voyage and more la- 
 borious work than usual. The first night after his 
 arrival, while most of his men were on shore, Capt 
 
254 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 Hal sat on deck quietly smoking his pipe in the twi- 
 light. Absorbed in his thoughts of business, his at- 
 tention was drawn to a boat approaching his vessel, 
 and soon it came near enough for him to hear the 
 splashing of the oars. 
 
 A few moments later it was drawn up to the side of 
 the vessel and a man spran : on board. The old Cap- 
 tain advanced to meet tht aewcomer, who extended 
 his hand cordially, and said: 
 
 "I'm very glad to see you again, Captain. I don't 
 believe you know me, but I am an old friend." 
 
 Capt. Hal certainly did not know him and frankly 
 told him so. Looking cautiously about, the man whis- 
 pered a name. The old Captain looked at him curi- 
 ously, and said : 
 
 "I would never have knowTi you. What are you 
 doing down here? I left you in New York and would 
 as soon have expected to see His Satanic Majesty in 
 person as you in these regions, to which I am an utter 
 stranger. I declare, Bru, you are a splendid make- 
 up!"^ 
 
 "Be cautious, and don't on any account mention 
 my name to anyone. I am Wallace Reed. I was 
 called to these parts on important business in which I 
 want your help. I heard you were here to-day and 
 knew you were one I could trust. As my time is lim- 
 ited, I can't waste words. Is there any place where 
 we can be perfectly safe from prying eyes or listening 
 ears?" 
 
 This latter he asked in a low whisper. 
 
 "Oh, yes;" the Captain replied, "in my state room, 
 
 no one can see or hear. ' ' 
 
 Calling to a man who stood not far off, he said : 
 "Spike, light up my room and take charge of the 
 
 vessel, while I attend to some business with this gen- 
 
CAPT. HAL 
 
 255 
 
 tlemen. Don't let anyone come near or disturb us." 
 
 When the men had entered the room and the door 
 had been locked, they seated themselves in two large 
 easy chairs and Mr. Reed said : 
 
 ' 4 This business is not exactly in my line, but I have 
 been induced to undertake it. It is this. In this 
 neighborhood there is a man who has done another a 
 great wrong, one he can never forgive. He knows 
 this, and being a poor, weak-minded fellow, he is try- 
 ing to kill the man he has wronged and the wronged 
 man feels if he continues at large, one or the other will 
 meet death at the hand of his antagonist. Now, this 
 gentleman doesn't want to kill the poor fellow nor 
 does he want to lose his life by him. To avert either 
 catastrophe, he wishes him kept out of his way and 
 will pay the man handsomely who will agree to do it 
 Now, I know there is a cell in this vessel which will 
 answer most admirably for that purpose and I pro- 
 pose that you undertake the job and make the money 
 All you will have to do is to keep him from ever com- 
 ing back to annoy and threaten the life of this man. ' ' 
 
 "I don't understand," and the Captain's wrinkled 
 brow contracted into a deep frown. 
 
 Mr. Reed proceeded to explain further. It was 
 near midnight before he could get the old Captain to 
 see plainty enough to agree to his plan. Mr. Reed's 
 last words were low and earnest : 
 
 "Now, you understand, you are to stay here until 
 you receive a note from me bearing the one word, 
 ' ' Come. ' 9 That evening you are to steam down to a 
 point just above the cliff, three miles from here. You 
 and one of your most trusted men must take a boat 
 and row down to the foot of the cliff. About dark 
 you will see a body hurled from above which you 
 must be prepared to rescue, as I don't want the man's 
 
256 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 death on my hands. The cliff on the riverside is con- 
 sidered as inaccessible as the Heights of Abraham, but 
 by means of a little blasting, I have made a way by 
 which I can, with care, ascend and descend the rocks, 
 In a little cove I will hide my boat securely from ob- 
 servation at the foot of the cliff. As soon as the 
 man is thrown over, I shall descend and after re- 
 ceiving from you the coat, containing his papers, with 
 which to deceive his friends, I shall pay you two thou- 
 sand dollars in gold and give you my note, in my own 
 name, agreeing to pay you six hundred dollars in 
 gold yearly, to be put to your credit in the Bank of 
 London. If, however, you let the man get loose, you 
 not only agree to forfeit this amount, but will, by 
 written agreement, pay me five thousand dollars in 
 default.' ' 
 
 To all this Capt, Hal agreed and the bargain was 
 sealed by a firm hand-clasp, which Capt. Hal assured 
 Mr. Reed was a true Scotchman's way of making an 
 
 oath. 
 
 All these directions had been carried out. The 
 young man to whom chloroform had been adminis- 
 tered had been narrowly rescued by " Spike," whose 
 life Capt. Hal had on one occasion saved at risk of 
 his own and who thought, on that account, he must 
 do everything his preserver wished done with unques- 
 tioning obedience. He was a small, wiry man, with 
 great strength in his long, sinewy hands. He was 
 naturally very taciturn, rarely speaking except on 
 business or to reply to a question, then with as few 
 words as possible. 
 
 His name was Pinckney Larrabee, but he was called 
 "Spike" by everybody. On the occasion above re- 
 ferred to he had gone at Capt, Hal's order with that 
 gentleman, who left the vessel to take a whiff of salt 
 
OAPT. HALL 
 
 257 
 
 air abroad, as he was accustomed to say sometimes, 
 when he wished to take a row. 
 
 Mr. Reed who seemed highly delighted at the suc- 
 cess of his plan, had taken the coat and paid the money 
 and Spike had rowed the Captain and the rescued 
 man hack to the Scotch Cap, just as the lamps began 
 to be lighted. 
 
 Capt. Hal called two of the men to take the body on 
 board, remarking it was a poor wretch they had got- 
 ten out of the water and they must try to bring him 
 to — that he must be informed when he began to re- 
 vive. 
 
 Then orders were given to steam away as fast as 
 possible, and soon the Scotch Cap was rapidly leaving 
 the scene of the adventure, taking the man with it. 
 
 It was nearly day before Capt, Hal was told that 
 the man appeared to be coming to himself. Then they 
 were ordered to take him to the cell, put him to bed 
 and Spike to attend to him. This cell was a small 
 room, built most securely. It was too small to admit 
 of a bed being placed in it. A hammock had to be 
 swung from one angle to the other to be long enough 
 for a man's length. There were two small windows 
 near the top through the iron bars of which came a 
 dim light. Some said this room had been built by the 
 first owner of the vessel for his insane brother, who 
 was compelled to be kept in great security, being so 
 violent at times no one could go into his room. Others 
 entirely discredited this story, saying it had been 
 built as a repository for the large valuables entrusted 
 to the care of the Captain during the voyage. 
 
 This seemed probable, as the lock, very similar to 
 the locks of iron safes, was curious and complicated, 
 the combination of which was known only to Capt, 
 Hal, Captam Harry and Spike. 
 
258 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 In case of mutiny the valuables would be beyond 
 the reach of anyone to whom the combination was un- 
 known. 
 
 Capt. Hal used this place as a prison for refractory 
 sailors. He was a rigid disciplinarian. The slightest 
 act of insubordination on the part of his men was 
 punished by imprisonment in this cell, and the pris- 
 oner was allowed nothing but bread and water until 
 he became penitent enough to confess his short-com- 
 ings. At least this had been their punishment until 
 the young man above alluded to had been taken on 
 board and confined in the cell; then another mode 
 had to be resorted to. 
 
 Into this dark narrow cell Robert Nelson was 
 placed as soon as he seemed to revive from his near 
 escape from drowning and the effects of the chloro- 
 form, which combined, would probably have killed a 
 less healthy mind and body. 
 
 As it was, it was a mistake when the men thought 
 him reviving, for after a slight movement of limb, 
 he had settled back into a stupor which lasted for sev- 
 eral weeks. He was only aroused by Spike's contin- 
 ued efforts to induce him to swallow the food, wine 
 and water which was brought after every meal, and 
 which was by the Captain's orders, ample and such as 
 he had on his own table, which was always well fur- 
 nished with every available thing that could tempt 
 the appetite. 
 
A FRI1ND IN NEED 259 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 A FRIEND IN NEED. 
 
 It was many weeks before Robert Nelson fully real- 
 ized his situation. When aroused from the stupor 
 into which he had first fallen, his mind was in a dazed 
 state as when a person is awakened from a deep sleep. 
 Indeed he seemed to be in a dreamy condition when 
 awake, which at first continued until he slept again. 
 Everything was mechanical with him. But one day 
 he seemed suddenly to have awakened from a long, 
 deep sleep and to have come to himself, as it were, 
 with a sense of his surroundings, which in his dreams 
 had puzzled him so much. 
 
 Having no idea of the time that had elapsed, he 
 thought it w 7 as but yesterday when he had started 
 from Melton with the hope of soon seeing Lillian 
 again. At thought of her, he bowed his head on his 
 hands and wept bitterly. His beautiful darling! He 
 had just reached the cliff, when in the twilight, two 
 masked men leaped from ambush and simultaneously 
 one seized his horse and the other the pistol which 
 he had placed on the seat of the buggy. A handker- 
 chief was put to his nose and he became very dizzy. 
 
 The man after pulling him from the buggy at- 
 tempted to seize him by main force, but he resisted 
 with all his failing strength which made the attempt 
 ineffectual. He had some remembrance of being 
 pushed up a steep place and then of falling. After 
 that he knew no more. 
 
 He realized now it was a well-laid plot of Walter 
 Brunette's to get him out of the way. Oh, that he 
 
260 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 had been as cautious as Lillian had wished him to be, 
 but in his pride, thought it cowardly to be prudent. 
 How her words now seem to ring in his ears. 
 
 "Oh, my dear Robert, for my sake be cautious, for 
 that man is as cunning as a serpent and as cruel as 
 the grave. " 
 
 He groaned as he thought that if he had only taken 
 her advice he would not now be in that villain ? s power 
 from which there was no hope of escape. His poor, 
 wronged darling! She no doubt believed him dead 
 and it was better for her to think so. How misera- 
 ble she would be if she knew the truth and how earn- 
 estly he prayed that she might not know it. 
 
 His condition can better be imagined than de- 
 scribed. To think was torture — not to think impossi- 
 ble. 
 
 He tried to question "Spike." He might as well 
 have questioned the Sphynx. If he answered at all, 
 it was "dunno." He had not the slightest idea 
 where he was. Sometimes he imagined he was mov- 
 ing. He heard the boat whistle and thought it was 
 a locomotive whistle. He wondered where they were 
 carrying him. One day he found out, by putting his 
 stool on the flat hammock, he could see through the 
 bars of the window. He could look out upon a broad 
 expanse of water and knew he was on a boat. 
 
 Once he had begged Spike to get him a paper, some- 
 thing to read or he should go mad. A curious ex- 
 pression, something like a ghost of a smile played 
 over the man's stolid face for a moment. Several 
 .days after he brought Robert a French paper of re- 
 cent date. From this Robert knew they were at a 
 French port. He could read and speak French al- 
 most as fluently as a native Frenchman. His mother 
 had taught him and Helen from a child to converse 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 261 
 
 with, her in French, carefully correcting any mistake. 
 She had insisted that they should give much of their 
 attention to perfecting themselves in the language at 
 school. 
 
 Spike little suspected that what he intended as a 
 grim joke was a great pleasure to the prisoner. Rob- 
 ert hungered for something to divert his thoughts and 
 this paper served admirably for that purpose. 
 
 He allowed himself to linger over everything he 
 read, pondering it carefully just as a child eats slowly 
 anything of which it is fond. Even the advertise- 
 ments furnished him food for thought. He wove ro-« 
 mances around them. The next day he would change 
 these and from day to day he reread the paper, ever 
 finding something in it to interest him. 
 
 Fearing lest Spike should find out the pleasure it 
 gave him and take it from him, he hid it when he 
 heard him coming as a miser hides his gold. One 
 day he ventured to ask again for a paper, and Spike 
 brought him a German paper. Robert had studied 
 German, but he had forgotten a great deal about it. 
 He, however, was glad to get the paper, and day by 
 day studied it as if it had been a task at school and 
 gradually he began to renew his acquaintance with 
 the language and read it. Thus the months passed. 
 
 To Robert it Avas only day and night. Sometimes 
 he became desperate. Once he even thought of kill- 
 ing Spike and of trying to make his escape, but this 
 idea was dismissed both as wicked and as useless as 
 well. He had noticed that the door shut of its own 
 accord as soon as Spike entered and it required a 
 knowledge of the complication for him to get out as 
 well as to get in, so to murder his keeper would do 
 him no good. He had been a prisoner more than a 
 year, when Capt. Harry finished school and came on 
 
262 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERB 
 
 board to stay. It was several weeks before that gen- 
 tleman found out anything about the strange pris- 
 oner, whom Capt. Hal had never seen since the night 
 he brought him to the vessel, and would not have rec- 
 ognized again, even if the confinement had wrought 
 no change in him, so slight had been his notice of the 
 man he was so deeply wronging. 
 
 Before Captain Harry came back, he had called all 
 the men up and told them, on pain of punishment, 
 not to tell Capt. Harry anything about the man in the 
 cell and if he found out he was confined there and 
 asked any questions to confess their ignorance and 
 send him to him for information. 
 
 "The boy is so soft-hearted he will hate to have 
 the fellow confined, even if he knows his own and our 
 safety demands it. The man is as crazy as a loon and 
 desperate, they say," he explained. 
 
 So Capt, Harry, "glad in the freedom of school let 
 out, 7 ' glad to get back to the only home he remembered 
 much about, gave himself up to the enjoyment of the 
 attractions of the sea. While he didn't love the sail- 
 or's life with the same ardor as his uncle, yet it was 
 the only home of which he had much remembrance 
 and his uncle who had always been kind to him, in 
 his peculiar way, was the only near relative he had 
 in the world and he loved him very fondly, tho' he 
 knew and often grieved over his faults. Then, too, 
 after he had come on board from Glasgow, where he 
 had been educated, they had sailed directly to Rome, 
 in which old city, Capt. Harry always found some- 
 thing new to interest and delight him and while in 
 that port spent most of his time in the city. But one 
 morning he came suddenly upon Spike taking the 
 prisoner his breakfast. The man fumbled at the 
 lock in a confused way waiting for Capt, Harry to 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 263 
 
 pass, but that gentleman stopped and unsuspiciously 
 asked him who was in the cell. 
 
 1 'Bad boy," was the laconic reply. 
 
 "What has he done?" was the next question. 
 
 "Dunno, sir," was briefly answered. 
 
 Knowing Spike's reticent nature, he passed on 
 thinking of course it was one of the men who had been 
 guilty of some misdemeanor, tho' he wondered that 
 he should be fed from his uncle's table instead on 
 the bread and water as heretofore. 
 
 It passed out of his mind until one fine night, he 
 was hurrying on deck to join his Uncle in a smoke 
 and to have a quiet talk when on passing the cell, a 
 deep groan arrested him. 
 
 He stopped for a moment and it was repeated. 
 
 On seating himself opposite his Uncle, he asked: 
 
 "Uncle, what has the poor fellow in the cell done? 
 
 I heard him groan as I passed as if in great distress 
 
 of mind or body. ' ' 
 
 Capt. Hal shifted his position uneasily, fingered his 
 pipe awhile, then after some time consumed in get- 
 ting a comfortable posture, with his gaze over the 
 quiet waters of the Mediterranean, he answered 
 slowlv : 
 
 m 
 
 "It's a poor crazy fellow that I took on board at 
 the desire of his friends to keep out of trouble. Some 
 people whom he has injured threatened his life and he 
 threatened theirs, so for their sakes and his own, 
 knowing I had a cell on board, they persuaded me to 
 take him here, thinking he would fare better than in 
 a mad-house." 
 
 Capt. Harry looked at his Uncle in great surprise, 
 as if scarcely crediting his own ears. 
 
 "Do you mean to say, Uncle, that the inmate of the 
 
2U 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 cell is insane and yon are keeping him confined on 
 that account?" 
 
 "That's just it," Capt. Hal replied. 
 
 "Where is his family?" was the next question. 
 
 ' 'He has no family. Fortunately he is the last rep- 
 resentative of his family. ' ' 
 
 ' ' What is his name ? ' 7 
 
 "John Dodd." 
 
 "Poor fellow! what a miserable existence. Is he 
 violent that he has to be confined all the time ? ' ' 
 
 "He is not violent all the time," was the evasive 
 answer, "but we have to keep him secure to guard 
 against his attacks, which might prove dangerous to 
 us as well as to himself. Spike has to go armed. ' 7 
 
 "I want to see him," Capt, Harry said, thought- 
 fully. "Perhaps I can do something to alleviate the 
 loneliness and sadness of his condition." 
 
 "No, sir; you are not to go into that cell," and the 
 Captain brought the two uplifted legs of his chair to 
 the floor with a loud bang by way of emphasis. 
 
 "Spike attends to all his wants. He has every- 
 thing necessary to his comfort. I am sorry I under- 
 took the care of the fellow and I don't want you to 
 make me sorrier still by going in there and, perhaps, 
 being killed by the madman or have to kill him in 
 self-defense. No, sir; I don't want you to put your 
 foot in that cell, do you hear me, sir ? " 
 
 "I hear," Capt. Harry replied, quietly, smoking 
 away as if greatly enjoying his cigar, but really not 
 thinking of it. He was making up his mind to form 
 the acquaintance of the mysterious inmate of the cell 
 as soon as he could do so without his uncle's knowl- 
 edge, as he did not wish to incur that irascible old 
 gentleman's displeasure. 
 
 After several days' careful watching he found out 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 265 
 
 where Spike secreted the key, which was a point 
 gained. A few days after Capt. Hal and Spike left 
 the vessel to fish oft' a certain noted fishing-place. 
 
 There was nothing in the world that gave Spike so 
 much pleasure as fishing and Capt. Hal was very fond 
 of the sport, too. 
 
 As soon as they left, Capt, Harry called the men up 
 and told them he wished to go in to see the man in the 
 cell and his uncle did not wish him to go. 
 
 ' 1 Now, boys, ' ' he said, ' ' I am going in that cell and 
 I don't want any of you to peach on me to the Cap- 
 tain nor Spike. I know you are all my friends as I 
 am yours, so I can trust you. Just let me know when 
 you see Uncle coming. ' ' 
 
 When Capt. Harry entered the cell, he saw a man 
 seated on a stool, with his face buried in his hands, 
 the very picture of woe. He laid his hand gently 
 on the shoulder of the figure, so quiet and motion- 
 less. Robert Nelson looked up with a wild glare 
 in his eyes, chat Spike had seen but once or twice, and 
 that man, though he sneered at fear, kept at a safe 
 distance and left as quickly as he could. 
 
 Robert was in one of his desperate moods. For 
 days his mind had dwelt upon his wrongs and his sor- 
 rows until he Avas on the very verge of insanity. At 
 any other time he would have been encouraged at the 
 kindly expression of the stranger, but to-day he was 
 almost beside himself with grief, and the sad, pitying 
 gaze of one whom he thought was keeping him in 
 prison for the sake of the money he would get from 
 Walter Brunette, seemed but to mock his misery. 
 
 Springing up, he confronted the man naturally 
 judged his enemy, with flashing eyes and hostile ex- 
 pression. Capt. Harry felt a little uncomfortable, 
 for he had come unarmed and his uncle's words of 
 
266 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 warning came to him, but he said, very quietly and 
 kindly : 
 
 "My poor fellow, what can I do for you?" 
 
 "Do for me! Do for me, indeed! You know 
 what you can do for me. You can open that prison 
 door and let me go back to my poor persecuted wife, 
 who doubtless mourns me as dead, and change the 
 grief of my beautiful darling into joy. If you have 
 one spark of humanity or manhood, you will undo as 
 quickly as possible the great wrong you have done for 
 the sake of Walter Brunette 's gold. My wealth is 
 equal to his own. I can pay you as much, even more, 
 for releasing me as he pays you for keeping me. If 
 avarice is your motive, I would look to the main 
 chance and get all I could. Will you listen to me as 
 I plead for my wife's sake, my beautiful Lillian ?" 
 
 Robert had uttered these words, hastily, excitedly, 
 keeping his wild eyes fixed upon Capt. Harry, his 
 breath coming in short, quick gasps, as if his strength 
 was not sufficient for the effort he was making to ex- 
 press himself. At the thought of Lillian, his expres- 
 sion changed, his strength seemed to fail. Sinking 
 into his former seat, he buried his head in his hands, 
 and sobbed aloud. 
 
 Capt. Harry was touched as he had never been in 
 his life. The man was so different from what he ex- 
 pected. He had thought he was some poor, ignorant 
 fellow, whom his friends were trying to get rid of. 
 Instead he saw that he was a gentleman, unmistaka- 
 bly so. His face, his expression, his words showed 
 that undefinable something that always accompanies 
 good breeding; showed that wealth, culture and re- 
 finement had been his at sometime in his life. Crazy 
 now, no doubt, but he had not become so from a nat- 
 urally weak mind. 
 
A FRIEND IN NEED 
 
 367 
 
 Laying his hand gently on the bowed head, Capt. 
 Harry said, as if trying to soothe a grieved child : 
 
 4 'Don't take on so, my poor friend. It hurts me to 
 see you so disconsolate. I will be your friend. You 
 are mistaken in thinking I had anything to do with 
 your imprisonment. I knew nothing about it until 
 a short time ago, and at once decided I would alle- 
 viate your loneliness as much as I could, even at the 
 risk of the great displeasure of the one who is really 
 your keeper. Is there anything I can do for you?" 
 
 Robert looked up into the face of the man who was 
 showing himself his friend. 
 
 Poor fellow! he sadly needed a friend to keep him 
 from despair. After a pause, he said, more calmly 
 than he had yet spoken: 
 
 "I thank you for your kind words and assurance 
 of your friendship. I want you to know why I am 
 here, and I would like you to listen, Avhile I tell you as 
 briefly as I can the cause of my misfortunes." 
 
 Capt. Harry assured him he would be pleased to 
 listen, then stretching himself on Robert's hammock 
 he became quiet and attentive, while Robert began : 
 
 "I am the owner of a fine estate called Randolph 
 Hall. I married soon after leaving school, a beauti- 
 ful orphan girl, the adopted daughter of one of our 
 most highly esteemed neighbors. Before our mar- 
 riage, my Lillian had been loved by a man, or a demon 
 rather, with the beauty and form of a prince. Be- 
 cause she preferred me to him, he became my bitter 
 enemy, and vowed she should never marry me. Once 
 he tried to make her consent to marry him at the point 
 of a pistol, and I was just in time to rescue her, but 
 received a very painful wound from his pistol. After 
 our marriage, he shot me in a summer-house, while I 
 was walking with and talking to my wifs. My sis- 
 
268 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 ter, a sufferer from heart disease, attracted by the pis- 
 tol-shot, ran to the spot, and seeing me covered with 
 blood and my wife in a death-like swoon at my side, 
 fell dead at our side. Being a flesh-wound, I soon 
 recovered, but my wife was ill many months and all 
 her luxuriant, dark hair came out and a soft, white 
 silky hair came in its place. About two years after 
 I was compelled to go to the city on business. On 
 my return, when about half-way home and near a 
 steep cliff, overlooking the river, I was suddenly at- 
 tacked by two masked men, one seizing my horse, the 
 other my pistol which I had on the seat with me. I 
 was drugged and thrown over the cliff and then 
 found myself a prisoner here, where I have been for 
 years, it seems to me, tho' I have no idea of the time 
 that has elapsed. I have thought it all over and I 
 am quite sure it is the work of that villain, "Walter 
 Brunette, who has hired some one to keep me here 
 that he may induce my wife to marry him, or failing 
 in that, keep me from the enjoyment of a life with 
 her, for jealousy, you know, is as cruel as the grave. 
 You have heard my strange story, every word of 
 which is true. I see you do not believe it, but im- 
 probable as it may seen it can all be proven.'' 
 Capt. Harry was thinking. 
 
 4 4 He is very intelligent and shrewd, but mad as a 
 March hare." 
 
 At this moment there came the premonitory knock 
 and Capt. Harry left, promising to come as often as 
 he could. 
 
 4 'Bring me a paper," pleaded the prisoner. 
 
 ' ' Look out every day. I mil try to push one under 
 the door every time I can do so unobserved. Do not 
 let Spike see them, nor let him suspect my visit to 
 you. ' ' 
 
AFTER MANY DAYS 269 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 AFTER MANY DAYS. 
 
 After this visit, Capt. Harry seized every oppor- 
 tunity to see the prisoner who had so greatly inter^ 
 ested him. Sometimes he would lie awake many 
 hours thinking of Robert Nelson's sad story. He 
 did not believe it, of course, but he knew Robert be- 
 lieved it and suffered from it as acutely as if it was* 
 real. The man was so intelligent, conversed so 
 soundly and rationally upon every other subject, it 
 seemed very strange he should have made himself the 
 hero of such a romance — had even assumed a name to 
 fit it — for once when he had addressed him as Mr. 
 Dodd, Robert had said firmly and proudly : 
 
 i 1 That is not my name, sir. I am Robert Nelson of 
 Randolph Hall/' and to please him, Capt. Harry ever 
 afterward addressed him as Mr. Nelson, but think- 
 ing it a fancied name. 
 
 Robert had tried hard to convince his new-found 
 friend of the truth of his story, strange though it was, 
 but while Capt. Harry listened attentively, Robert 
 knew intuitively he did not believe him, and he finally 
 gave up in despair. 
 
 Since his first visit Robert had given no indication 
 of violence. He always received the young Captain 
 with a smile as kindly as his own. Every few days 
 he had found a paper thrust under his door and books, 
 fruits and flowers were brought to cheer his lonely, 
 sorrowful life. Capt. Harry had never mentioned 
 the man in the cell to his uncle after that first night, 
 and Capt. Hal. congratulated himself upon having 
 gotten oyer the dreadful task of telling his nephew 
 
270 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 about the madman so easily, little suspecting the inti- 
 macy that had grown up between them. 
 
 Everything suspicious was carefully hidden from 
 Spike's eyes and if he had any suspicion of the state 
 of affairs he never told the old Captain. 
 
 Years passed on. Every year, the last of October, 
 Capt. Hal put in at Glasgow near which city he had 
 friends, who were fond of hunting, and the old Cap- 
 tain took his annual hunt of a week or two with them, 
 not so much for the sport, as to be with his boon com- 
 panions, and ' i stretch his legs on land for awhile ' ' as 
 he said. 
 
 Now, Spike had relatives near Glasgow, too, whom 
 he had been accustomed to visit when Capt. Hal took 
 his hunt, but for several years, since he had the care 
 of Robert Nelson, that pleasure had been debarred 
 him, and Capt. Hal found out by his manners that 
 Spike was getting dissatisfied at not going ashore on 
 his visits as he had formerly done, and the man was 
 too essential to him to be offended. If Spike went, 
 who was to care for the * ' crazy loon" as he was ac- 
 customed to speak of Robert. 
 
 After much demurring and debating with himself, 
 he finally decided Capt. Harry must have the care of 
 the man. He most earnestly wished he could make 
 some other arrangement but there was no other. He 
 wasn't willing to forego his hunt nor to have the care 
 of the man, whom he shrank from coming into con- 
 tact with, feeling always that he had done wrong to 
 undertake the job so skilfully planned by Walter Bru- 
 nette and for which he was not paying him as 
 promptly as he had promised. 
 
 Brunette's last letter had said he would have 
 twenty-five hundred dollars and interest to his credit, 
 for the three years he had been behind, and one year 
 
AFTER MANY DAYS 271 
 
 in advance. He was on his way to London to get it. 
 So after many instructions and precautions lie left 
 Robert in Capt. Harry's care and lie and Spike went 
 ashore. 
 
 Scarcely were they out of sight before the door of 
 the cell was thrown wide open and after Robert's 
 promise not to attempt to escape, he was allowed to 
 walk out or to totter out, rather. No one who had 
 seen Robert thrust into prison would have recognized 
 him as he sat on deck that fine autumn day, gazing 
 out upon the waters. 
 
 He was pale and fearfully emaciated in face and 
 figure. His eyes were unnaturally large and deeply 
 sunken in his head. His dark hair was plentifully 
 sprinkled with gray. What a wreck of his former, 
 manly self he was, but he rapidly improved during 
 Capt. Hal's absence. 
 
 He spent every day and part of the night on deck 
 with Capt. Harry who, without seeming to do so, 
 watched him closely. He was locked in Capt. Har- 
 ry's room every night, while that gentleman occupied 
 his uncle's. 
 
 The cell was thoroughly cleaned and renovated; 
 the door stood open day and night. A comfortable 
 chair replaced the old stool. A small table for books 
 and flowers was added. To his surprise he found 
 Robert an expert chess-player — a match, indeed, for 
 himself, who was accounted a worthy champion of the 
 game for almost anyone. 
 
 Somehow, Capt. Harry's kindness awoke in Robert 
 a hope of release. He knew if he ever became free 
 again it would be through that gentleman's kindness 
 and influence, and the more he knew of his friend, 
 the stronger became the hope. 
 
 As soon as Capt. Hal and Spike returned, they 
 
•272 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 made for London, where Capt. Hal became furious 
 because "Walter Brunette did not redeem his promise. 
 
 There was not a dollar to his credit. He vowed ven- 
 geance, but a profitable job taking him to the East 
 Indies served to cool him off for a year. 
 
 The next year he put in at the appointed time, re- 
 ceiving but three hundred dollars and a letter from 
 Brunette, saying he was short of money at that time, 
 but would pay him handsomely for waiting another 
 year. 
 
 Again the old gentleman was very angry, but he 
 had an elephant on his hands and felt he could do 
 nothing but submit. So with the best grace he could 
 command he sailed away, in his heart wishing he had 
 never seen Brunette nor his " crazy loon." 
 
 Again the time for the annual hunt came and Capt. 
 Hal and Spike departed and Robert's annual free- 
 dom came, too. 
 
 Oh, how eagerly he looked forward to this relief 
 for his pent-up mind and body. He enjoyed it as a 
 hungry man relishes food or a thirsty man drink. 
 
 One fine night as he and Capt. Harry sat on deck, 
 in the soft moonlight, both smoking and thinking, 
 Robert Nelson suddenly looked around at his com- 
 panion, and said: 
 
 "Capt. Harry, there is a great favor I wish you 
 would do for me, one I have wanted to ask you a long 
 time and feared lest you would deny me and make 
 me more hopeless than I have been since I have known 
 you. You have told me you would do nothing to in- 
 terfere with your uncle's plans, as you would con- 
 sider that dishonorable to your trust. I agree with 
 you and would wish .you to do nothing that would 
 bring down that gentleman's anger upon you, but 
 what I want you to do, can in no way injure your 
 
AFTER MANY DAYS 
 
 273 
 
 uncle, while it will place me right with you, who have 
 been my friend in my sore need. I have told you my 
 story and I know you do not believe me ; I think you 
 consider me insane and my story the creation of my 
 own fancy rather than the truth. What I wish you 
 to do is to write to the legal firm in H — , the men who 
 have my business in hand, and who have known me 
 for years. Write a letter in your own name as a 
 friend at my dictation asking about me such ques- 
 tions as w T ill corroborate or deny my statements to you 
 in regard to myself. 
 
 Then write to your uncle's lawyers or bankers in 
 New York as to the standing of Anderson and Budd, 
 in the city named, and see what your answer will be to 
 both letters. Will you do this for me, captain? I 
 think it but just you should find out for yourself, 
 whether I am true or false, sane or insane. ' ' 
 
 Never did a prisoner under condemnation look more 
 eagerly, more breathlessly at the judge who was to 
 pronounce the sentence of life and death, than did 
 Robert Nelson into the face of the man before him, 
 for he felt it was his only hope. He knew he was get* 
 ting weaker, that the confinement was undermining 
 his health. He knew if he were not released soon, 
 death would be his release, and he was so anxious to 
 know if Lillian was living. If she was dead, he 
 wouldn't care how soon death came, for there would 
 be nothing to live for and he did wish to know what 
 Avas thought of his strange disappearance. Captain 
 Harry, after a few minutes' pause, which seemed a 
 long time to Robert, who was looking so pleadingly 
 into his face, said slowly : 
 
 "I will do as you wish. I think it is due you." 
 
 So the next day Captain Harry wrote the letter that 
 
274 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 Robert dictated, asking a number of questions, among 
 them : 
 
 "If Mrs. Nelson was living, and, if so, where? 
 What was thought of Robert Nelson's sudden disap- 
 pearance ? If he should return and prove his identity, 
 could he not claim his estate, and what would be his 
 annual income ?" 
 
 The letters were posted at the next port they en- 
 tered and Robert anxiously awaited the result Some- 
 times when Captain Harry would awake in the night 
 he could hear Robert pacing up and down har narrow 
 inclosure and he knew his desire to hear from the 
 letter kept him from sleeping. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" he would think; "he is awaiting 
 the death-knell to his hopes. I cannot sound it. If 
 the letter upon which he so much depends comes to 
 blast his hopes, he will never know it from me. Bet- 
 ter he should be constantly expectant than despair- 
 ingly certain." 
 
 About two weeks after they arrived at London, and 
 Captain Hal went at once to see if Walter Brunette 
 had complied with his promise. He came back, as we 
 have said, in a towering rage, for there was not a 
 dollar there to his credit. He wrote a note to "Judge 
 Allan," in New Orleans, as the last letter from 
 Brunette had informed him he was engaged on some 
 fine detective work in that city nnder that name, and 
 would remain there some time. He vowed he was 
 going to let the man loose at once if he did not send 
 him a check for the full amount. He ended by say- 
 ing he had threatened before, but he would perform 
 this time, and he might beware of the result, as he 
 doubted not the fellow was desperate now and would 
 seek his life to the very ends of the earth. 
 
AFTER MANY DAYS 
 
 275 
 
 ''That will bring him," Captain Hal said to him- 
 self as he folded it. "He knows better than not to 
 answer, ' ' and he waited with as much patience for a 
 reply as his impatient nature was capable of. Captain 
 Harry was expecting a letter, too, and more eagerly 
 than either of the other two men. Eobert was ex- 
 pecting one. At last, Captain Harry, who made it 
 very convenient to get all the mails himself, saw two 
 letters for him with foreign postmarks. Strangely 
 enough, both had come in the same mail. Going to 
 the nearest park, he seated himself aloof from others, 
 broke open the letter and proceeded to read. Judge 
 his astonishment when the letter corroborated every 
 statement Robert had made and answered the last 
 questions as follows: 
 
 "Mrs. Nelson is living in seclusion. I am not at 
 liberty to tell where, as the enemy who has ruined her 
 life still lives, and she doesn't wish him to know her 
 whereabouts. Eobert Nelson was undoubtedly 
 drowned, as his body was identified after several days 
 from the coat containing his handkerchief and papers. 
 Of course, if it could be proved beyond a doubt that 
 he was not drowned, but is still living, he could claim 
 his property, the income of which has accumulated, 
 as his wife has used only the revenue from an estate 
 of her own, until at this time it amounts to twelve or 
 fifteen thousand dollars a year. You ask in what 
 estimation Walter Brunette is held in this neighbor- 
 hood. We can say that if he were to show himself 
 here in his own character, he would doubtless be 
 lynched by an infuriated mob, so great is the execra- 
 tion in which he is held by those who loved and es- 
 teemed the Nelson family for their many virtues. 
 The story is strange, but it is nevertheless true. 
 Truth, you know, is often stranger than fiction. No 
 
276 
 
 LILLIAN DeVBRE 
 
 class of persons know this better than lawyers, wh© 
 have to deal with the strange things in real life. ' ' 
 
 When Captain Harry finished this letter and read 
 the other, saying that the firm he inquired about was 
 one of the most reliable to be found anywhere, he sat 
 gazing at the words, too surprised to credit the evi- 
 dence of his own senses. Could it be possible Robert 
 Nelson was not insane, but had been imprisoned by 
 his uncle for the sake of Walter Brunette's money? 
 Could he, for the sake of greed, have done such a 
 wicked thing? He knew his uncle was fond of money, 
 but he did not dream he would do so dastardly a deed. 
 The great wrong had been committed, and it must be 
 retrieved as quickly as possible. But how? He 
 knew his uncle 's obstinate nature, and that the utmost 
 caution would be necessary to get him to see things as 
 he saw them. 
 
 Captain Hal knew nothing about the prisoner, and, 
 of course, felt no interest in him save as a source of 
 revenue. If he tried to convince him of the wrong 
 he had done an honorable gentlei^in, he might be- 
 come angry and so guard the prisoner that he could 
 not obtain access to him, w T hich would make his fate 
 far more intolerable. He knew Robert's health was 
 failing and realized that what was to be done for him 
 must be done soon, or it would be too late. For hours 
 he sat clasping the letters in his hand, thinking deeply 
 over the situation. 
 
 Captain Harry was not a religious man. He knew 
 very little of practical religion, but in this emergency 
 he felt the need of more wisdom than he possessed, 
 and there came to him the memory of his mother's 
 favorite hymn, ' ' Take It to the Lord in Prayer, ' ' and 
 an earnest desire for wisdom came into his heart, and 
 somehow after that he felt better satisfied that in 
 
AFTER MANY DAYS 
 
 277 
 
 some way Robert Nelson would at last regain bis 
 liberty. That night as he sat on deck with his uncle, 
 who was awaiting a reply to his letter to Brunette 
 and chafing under the delay, Captain Hal uninten- 
 tionally uttered his thoughts aloud : 
 
 ' 'If Brunette doesn't make haste and answer and 
 give me satisfaction, I'll — I'll — " 
 
 "Set your prisoner free, won't you?" Captain 
 Harry finished, very quietly, then continued calmly: 
 
 "It's just what you ought to do, anyway. Brunette 
 has done the man the crudest wrong one man ever did 
 another, for no other reason than that the lady he 
 loved preferred Nelson to himself." 
 
 "Nelson, indeed!" the old captain sneered. "His 
 name is Dodd. That remark shows plainly the fellow 
 has gulled you with his crazy nonsense. Brunette 
 said he would make up things and tell them so 
 earnestly you w r ould be forced to believe them true if 
 you didn't know they were false — told me to pay no 
 attention to anything he said." 
 
 "Yes, and that very Brunette is the deepest dyed 
 villain I ever heard of, and you are his dupe." 
 
 The hot blood mounted to Captain Hal's face, but 
 he laughed scornfully. 
 
 "You are the dupe of a crazy man. I have known 
 Brunette for years, and he is an honorable gentleman, 
 went in the best society in New York, and could have 
 married the daughter of a millionaire, a belle in 
 society. He didn't even know this fellow, Dodd, was 
 only employed as a detective to get him away from 
 danger, as I told you before. ' ' 
 
 As Captain Harry proceeded to take some letters 
 out of his pocket, he asked : 
 
 "Are Messrs. Marshall and Brandon, your bankers 
 in New York, reliable men?" 
 
278 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 "Certainly," was Captain Hal's answer, wonder- 
 ing what that had to do with the point in question. 
 
 "Then read this/ 7 and he handed his unele the 
 letter endorsing Anderson and Budd's standing. 
 
 "What does this mean?" Captain Hal asked. 
 
 "It means that I wished to find out the truth or 
 falsity of the prisoner's oft-repeated statements and 
 wrote to the gentlemen, his lawyers, questioning them 
 about it. This is their answer, which you can read 
 for yourself, after having assured yourself of the 
 reliability of the parties." 
 
 Captain Hal read it, interrupting himself fre- 
 quently w 7 ith expressions of astonishment peculiar to 
 himself. He read it again and again before he was 
 able to take it in. 
 
 "What does it mean?" he finally asked in a loud 
 whisper. "I don't understand. What does it mean, 
 Harry?" 
 
 ' ; It means, ' ' was the reply, ' 4 that Walter Brunette, 
 the man for which you consented to undertake this 
 job, is as the letter says, a most perfidious villain, and 
 you have helped him in his nefarious schemes. It 
 means that for a little money you have done a great, 
 an unpardonable wrong. It means that, for the sake 
 of his ignoble revenge, that scoundrel has duped you 
 to carry out the crudest, most inhuman plot against 
 an honorable gentleman I have ever heard of. It 
 means that for years you have kept in close confine- 
 ment, away from his loved wife and his home, a 
 wealthy, cultured, noble-hearted gentleman who has 
 never in his life in any way done you the least harm. 
 It means that this terrible wrong must be righted, and 
 at once." 
 
 For the first time in his life, perhaps, Captain Hal 
 cowered beneath a human glance, but his eyes fell 
 
AFTER MANY DAYS 
 
 279 
 
 beneath the scornful words and look of the honest 
 blue eyes gazing so steadily and fearlessly into his 
 own. Finally he comprehended he had been deceived 
 by Brunette, and had helped him to cruelly wrong an 
 innocent man. He realized it was a deep and well- 
 laid plot, and he had aided him materially in carry- 
 ing it out. Captain Hal was a rash, impulsive man, 
 frequently doing things of which he afterwards saw 
 the folly, but was often too obstinate to acknowledge 
 it. While this was true, he was a just man, as he 
 termed justice, and, knowing he had done this great 
 injustice, he was willing to undo it as far as he could, 
 *o he asked Captain Harry : 
 "What must I do?" 
 
 "Do! You must at once open the door you have 
 kept so long shut, and let the poor man come forth to 
 liberty." 
 
 ' 6 He will have me punished for what I have done. ' ' 
 "I think not. I believe he will be so eager to get 
 back to loved ones, he will let you go free. Let me 
 go now and show him the letters and tell him he is 
 free." 
 
 That night it was past midnight before Captain 
 Harry and Robert went to sleep. Robert shared 
 Captain Harry's room. He was too happy, too ex- 
 cited to sleep. He and Captain Hal and Captain 
 Harry had talked it all over that night on deck, in 
 the soft moonlight. Captain Hal was more repentant 
 than he had ever been over anything in his life, and 
 he acknowledged it so frankly to Robert he forgave 
 him his part in it, knowing it was more Brunette's 
 villainly than the old captain's. When he had read 
 the letter about the coat being found near the cliff, 
 he said to Captain Harry: 
 
 6 1 That accounts for the fact that I never could find 
 
280 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 the coat to my suit. It had been replaced by a sailor's 
 jacket. But, fortunately for me, they didn't take 
 this, which I have kept secreted since I have been 
 here and which will help to establish my identity," 
 and he handed to Captain Harry a very antique and 
 costly ring of a very unique pattern, with "Nelsom" 
 carved very elaborately in it. It was left by 
 the original proprietor of Randolph Hall to the 
 oldest son of every succeeding generation. Surely 
 happiness is the best medicine for a diseased 
 mind or body. So it proved with Robert Nelson. 
 Just imagine how a prisoner who has been in close 
 confinement for years feels when his innocence is 
 established and he walks forth to brightness and 
 freedom again. Robert Nelson's feelings can hardly 
 be imagined when he became an honored guest where 
 he had for so long suffered imprisonment. While 
 he became strong enough to make the voyage home a 
 close intimacy sprang up between him and Captain 
 Harry, who tried to atone in every way he could for 
 the irreparable wrong that had been done to a man 
 who showed the true nobility of his nature by burying 
 the dead past and looking forward to hope and hap- 
 piness again. 
 
LILLIAN AGAIN 
 
 211 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. f 
 
 LILLIAN AGAIN. 
 
 We must return to Lillian. 
 
 As she proceeded on her way to Mrs. Chastine 's she 
 noticed how deserted the streets were and this in- 
 creased her trepidation. "Everybody must be at 
 supper/ ' she thought, and this was confirmed as she 
 passed the different houses and saw people seated at 
 the table in their brilliantly lighted dining-halls. 
 There was one place she specially dreaded. It was a 
 corner at which one street intersected another. The 
 light there had been out of order for several nights, 
 giving but a dim, uncertain glimmer. Mr. Chastine 
 had remarked upon it the last time they passed there. 
 She reached it safely and was hurrying across the 
 street when a quick footstep behind her caused her to 
 look around suddenly. As she did so her arm was 
 strongly seized and something applied to her face. 
 She staggered back an instant, was caught in a pair of 
 stout arms and lifted into some sort of vehicle, which 
 at that moment appeared upon the scene. 
 
 She had a dim remembrance of this, but knew noth- 
 ing more for several days. She had a vague idea that 
 a woman's face bent over at times and that she lin- 
 gered in the room, but she was in a dazed state that 
 failed to take in her surroundings. Gradually the 
 effect of the drug passed off, and she began to think, 
 and then she felt confident she was again the victim of 
 Walter Brunette's wickedness. Why had she again 
 allowed herself to be entrapped by that villain? Why 
 had she not gone to Mrs. Chastine 's at once and had 
 
282 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 him apprehended instead of attempting to flee like a 
 coward from him? How had he found her out? 
 Who could have told him of her plans to leave the 
 city and thus enabled him to foil them? Could it 
 have been Eva, whom he w 7 as pretending to love in 
 order to carry out his designs against herself? Surely 
 it must be so. While she realized she was in her 
 enemy's power, she was not entirely disheartened. 
 Truly she had too many friends to search for her to 
 be long in his grasp. They would employ detectives, 
 who would surely find him out, cunning as he was. 
 Failing in that, she had still her own senses about her 
 and ought to manage to outwit the arch-plotter. She 
 must meet cunning with cunning. So she seemed to 
 be very dreamy and stupid, while she was very wake- 
 ful and on the alert. Whenever she heard a footstep 
 she shut her eyes as if asleep, and when aroused for 
 food or drink put on such a wild, dazed look as to 
 deceive her watcher. When she felt assured she wan 
 alone, she made good use of her senses. She found 
 she was in a small but nicely furnished room, to 
 which there was no window, with a door leading into 
 a narrow hall. By leaning as far as possible out of 
 the bed she could see there was another door opposite 
 to the one of the room w T hich she occupied. One 
 morning she was awakened from a longer and sounder 
 sleep than usual by a sort of bustle, as of new ar- 
 rivals and of trunks being brought in. Wondering 
 Avhat it meant, and listening very intently to find out, 
 she heard a woman's voice say in a low, earnest tone: 
 
 ' ' I am very glad, Miss, you have come. Mr. Howell 
 told me he had written for you. The young lady 
 doesn't seem to me to be getting on so well. She lies 
 in a stupor all the time, and though she has been here 
 a week, notices nothing. Sometimes it is hard to 
 
LILLIAN AGAIN 
 
 283 
 
 Arouse her to take food. She appears to be under 
 the influence of a strong opiate all the time. I am 
 glad to turn the care and responsibility of her over 
 to you." 
 
 "We'll soon get her all right, I think. Aunt Chloe 
 is a splendid nurse," answered a soft, sweet voice. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. Dis old nigger am a good nuss and 
 shore's you'se born, everybody gits better when she's 
 round. Miss Evelyn knows dat, ' ' came in unmistak- 
 able African tones. 
 
 Miss Evelyn ! Ah, that gave her some clue. Walter 
 Brunette had found out in some way her identity 
 after receiving the letter, and, after missing it, and 
 judging she had found it by her sudden plans for 
 departure, into which no doubt Eva had led him, had 
 abducted her and would probably insult her as he 
 had formerly done by trying to make her marry him 
 or continue a prisoner in his power. She would re- 
 main a prisoner always before she would listen to 
 such a proposal from him. But she would not submit 
 to such a fate without making an effort to escape it. 
 She felt assured Evelyn Brown and one of the trusted 
 old family servants had been sent for to guard her, 
 and to one of less determined nature it would have 
 seemed hopeless to try even to foil them ; but it was 
 worth the trial surely, and it would never do to give 
 up. So she lay thinking and listening, while appar- 
 ently unconscious. She heard a stir going on across 
 the hall and judged Evelyn and Aunt Chloe were get- 
 ting fixed in their new quarters. 
 
 That day at the usual time for dinner a most tempt- 
 ing tray was brought to her bedside. Assuming a 
 Very wild stare when aroused, she saw a very pretty 
 face looking pityingly at her. In that one glance she 
 took in Evelyn Brown, then assumed her former 
 
284 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 dreamy, sleepy attitude. The girl, for such she 
 seemed, was a pronounced brunette, with small, deli- 
 cate features. As she would have roused a drowsy 
 child, she spoke to Lillian, begging her to take the 
 food. There was no opening of the eyes, but a well- 
 assumed unconsciousness of what she was saying, 
 though Lillian's appetite called for the dainties whose 
 appetizing smell regaled her nostrils. 
 
 Miss Brown then proceeded to do just what Lillian 
 desired, feed her, and she received the food, giving no 
 intimation of the satisfaction it gave her. When she 
 had enough she shut her mouth and refused to take 
 any more. That night and, indeed, at every meal for 
 weeks, the same process was gone through with. The 
 first night after their arrival, she heard a little stir 
 at the door and cautiously opened her eyes just wide 
 enough to see a large, fat negro woman, with her head 
 crowned with a red bandana handkerchief, bringing 
 into the room an easy chair, large enough to accom- 
 modate even her huge proportions. There was a 
 whispered colloquy at the door, then Aunt Chloe came 
 and seated herself in the chair opposite, where she 
 could watch her every movement by the dim shaded 
 light. To escape the woman's curious gaze she 
 turned from her and was soon asleep. After this one 
 or the other of her keepers watched over her every 
 night. 
 
 One morning when she awoke she heard some per- 
 sons talking very low but earnestly in the room op- 
 posite. The door of her room was slightly ajar. 
 Thinking they must be talking of her, she slipped 
 from the bed, and as softly as possible, stole behind 
 the door, applied her ear to the crevice and listened 
 intently. She heard a voice which she at once recog- 
 nized as Walter Brunette's. 
 
LILLIAN AGAIN 
 
 285 
 
 "She will come all right in time. She is very 
 healthy and its only the effect of the opiates which 
 will pass away gradually. ' ' 
 
 "But, Walter, she has been in that condition so long 
 — nearly two weeks, and I see no change for the better. 
 She takes no notice of anything; has to be fed like 
 a baby. I think you had better call in a physician. 
 I don't want her death on my hands.' ' 
 
 "No, no, Evelyn; it's only because she has never 
 been accustomed to opiates. Be patient and as soon as 
 she recovers consciousness fully and asks about her 
 being here, put her off until I come and I will ex- 
 plain the situation to her and reveal to her my plans 
 regarding her. Good-bye, my brave little cousin, you 
 have always been as true as steel to me and my inter- 
 ests. Be true to this trust a little while longer, dear, 
 and you will have my deepest gratitude and love. ' ' 
 
 Lillian stole back to bed. She had found out be- 
 yond a doubt that she was again the victim of Walter 
 Brunette's perfidy, and that her ideas of his plot were 
 correct. She knew, too, she was deceiving Evelyn 
 Brown as to her real state. 
 
 Day after day went by. She knew she had been im- 
 prisoned nearly a month. How long it seemed since 
 that night she started to Mrs. Chastine's! What did 
 her friends think of her disappearing so suddenly 
 and strangely. She wondered if she was still in the 
 city or, if not, where? 
 
 One evening she heard Miss Brown say : 
 
 "I'll be back as soon as I can. Watch the lady 
 carefully and give her water, if she w T akes. It is 
 warm this evening. ' ' 
 
 As soon as she was gone, and Aunt Chloe had seated 
 her capacious self in the large arm-chair, Lillian 
 threw off all appearance of stupor and said quietly: 
 
286 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 6 ' Open the door wide, Aunt Chloe, I am almost suf- 
 focating. ' ' 
 
 While the negress in surprise obeyed, Lillian pushed 
 back the curls from her forehead and looked with 
 wide open eyes at the woman, who on her return to 
 the bedside, uttered an exclamation of mingled aston- 
 ishment and horror. 
 
 "May the Lord save me alive. It's her sperit, as I 
 live. I'se been thinking so all along." 
 
 Approaching close to the bed she asked in a loud 
 whisper : 
 
 "Is you her sperit, honey?" 
 
 "Whose spirit?" asked Lillian. 
 
 "Miss Lillian Dare Bear's. I seed her two or three 
 times, and you'se pint blank liks her. Is you her 
 sperit, honey?" 
 
 Lillian caught on at once. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, solemnly, "I am Lillian De 
 Vere's spirit and to prove it, I will tell you all about 
 her. Listen ! She used to live with Mrs. Stafford at 
 a sweet place called Moss Side. She married Mr. 
 Robert Nelson of Randolph Hall. Someone, I know 
 who, because I'm a spirit, you know T , shot him once 
 while he was walking with his wife. It killed his sis- 
 ter, Helen, and made his wife so sick she lost all her 
 dark hair, and afterwards had real white hair. Then 
 this same man drowned her husband and she went 
 away from the Hall to a place on the seaside. She 
 fell over a cliff, then I became her spirit to punish 
 Walter Brunette for his; crimes, which I will do yet, 
 tho' he seems now to have me in his power. Not 
 knowing I was a spirit he brought me here and wrote 
 for his cousin, Miss Evelyn Brown, and you, Aunt 
 Chloe, to nurse me. You see, I know all. Now I 
 have told you, you must promise not to tell anybody 
 
LILLIAN AGAIN 
 
 287 
 
 what I have told you lest something mighty bad hap- 
 pen to you. Will you promise ? ' ' 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the old negro's 
 expression as Lillian uttered these words. Fear and 
 awe w r ere curiously blended. Had she possessed the 
 power of moving, she would probably have fled from 
 the room, but she sat trembling in every limb, gaz- 
 ing at Lillian with utter astonishment on her round, 
 sleek, black face. Her mouth and eyes were stretched 
 to their fullest extent. Naturally superstitious and 
 credulous she did not, in the least, doubt the truth of 
 Lillian's statement. During her recital, she had in- 
 terrupted her with such expressions as 
 
 "May the Lord have mercy on us, poor sinners; I 
 been sayin' so all de time. De Lord won't always 
 keep his anger. Folks can't mistreat t'other folks 
 and not 'spect to be punished." 
 
 When Lillian exacted the promise of silence from 
 her, she exclaimed: 
 
 "J 'clare fore gracious, I'll never tell nobody not 
 one word you say, not even Miss Evelyn, who said 
 I musn't tell you nothing in the world if you axed 
 me, and fore gracious you knows everything we knows 
 and everything else besides. No, Mrs. Sperit, I'll 
 make the sign of a cross on my bosom, this way, that 
 I won't tell nothin' you say, and you may 'bleve I 
 wont. Yes, Mrs. Sperit, I always said the Lord 
 would punish Marse Walter for treating Miss Lillian 
 that way, but I didn't know he'd send her sperit back 
 to yearth agin to do it. Ah, 'twont do to go agin the 
 Lord's ways." 
 
 "It will soon be Christmas," Lillian said, with a 
 view of finding out just how long she had been there. 
 
 "Yes, honey, Mrs. Sperit, I mean, one week next 
 Wednesday will be Christmas." 
 
288 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 4 i Well," Lillian said, very seriously, "the Lord 
 doesn't disclose his plans to me a long ways off, but 
 I think he means I shall leave this place by that 
 time." 
 
 "I spect you will, for bein' a sperit, you can go 
 through a keyhole when he says so. " Then she asked : 
 4 1 Mrs. Sperit, why don't you tell Miss Evelyn you'se 
 a sperit, and she wouldn't try to keep you. She 
 thinks you'se a young widder woman that Marse Wal- 
 ter wants her and me to nuss for awhile. Then you 
 and he, ole Miss, Miss Evelyn and me is gwine way 
 off and live mighty happy, Marse Walter says." 
 
 "Are you willing to go way off and leave your 
 folks?" 
 
 "Yes, honey, you see, I'se Miss Evelyn's mammy, 
 nussed her after her ma died and I loves her like she 
 was my own baby. She is a good girl, and would 
 try to do nothin' gin a sperit if she knowed it." 
 
 "But she mustn't know it. It won't do for her 
 to know it, nor anybody else, but me and you. You 
 must do just as I tell you and then you won't be pun- 
 ished." 
 
 "That I will, Mrs. Sperit, I'll do anything you 
 say." 
 
 "Have you the key of the outside door?" 
 "No, honey; Miss Evelyn always locks us up and 
 takes it with her. 
 
 "Couldn't you get out of the window and get me 
 some fresh water?" 
 
 "No, honey, every window is nailed down tight, so 
 no one can't get out nor come in." 
 
 "Do you know what city you and Miss Evelyn came 
 to when Walter Brunette wrote you to come?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am; New 'leans. That's where we is 
 
LILLIAN AGAIN 
 
 289 
 
 now, only we'se way off the street-car line, Miss Eve- 
 lyn says." 
 
 "How do you like 'New leans'?" 
 
 "I don't like it so mighty much, 'cept I ken go bare- 
 footed all the time here, and I can 't at home, 'cause 
 its too cold." 
 
 Just then Miss Brown was heard approaching and 
 with another caution to Aunt Chloe, Lillian resumed 
 her usual languid attitude and the old woman felt 
 no scruples of conscience, for saying, when asked 
 about the patient, that she had been "sleep all the 
 time." 
 
290 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XLIL 
 
 LILLIAN'S ESCAPE. 
 
 After the above recorded conversation between Lil- 
 lian and Aunt Chloe, the woman evinced the greatest 
 fear and awe of Lillian. She begged Miss Evelyn 
 not to make her sit up alone with the sick lady, and 
 when questioned as to her reason, after many evasive 
 replies, said she believed Mrs. Sperit was going to 
 die, and she didn't want to be in the room by herself. 
 
 She called Lillian Mrs. Sperit all the time now, and 
 when Miss Evelyn asked her why she called her so, 
 she said it was because the lady looked so pale and 
 white, 4 'jest like a sperit." 
 
 For two or three nights her indulgent mistress 
 humored her and sat up herself, thinking the old 
 woman who had to cook as well as nurse, had become 
 tired and wanted to rest. 
 
 Then she insisted " mammy" should let her sleep 
 some, as she was completely worn out for want of 
 sleep and rest, and Aunt Chloe, with fear and trem- 
 bling, took her usual place at Lillian's bedside. 
 
 Lillian fell into a gentle slumber in which sweet 
 dreams of other days came to her. She thought she 
 was again at Randolph Hall with Robert by her side, 
 talking to her lovingly, and caressing her fondly. 
 She dreamed the sunlight rested upon the Hall as 
 brightly as it did before the shadows fell and when 
 Robert started to leave her, she held out her arms and 
 begged him never to leave her again. She awoke with 
 the name of Robert upon her lips and the tears sprang 
 
LILLIAN'S ESCAPE 
 
 291 
 
 to her eyes as tender memories came to her of her 
 noble husband's untimely end. 
 
 Reflecting upon her sad and strange past, she be- 
 came very restless and sleepless. Try as hard as she 
 would, she couldn't compose herself to sleep. It was 
 very warm and the doors between the two rooms and 
 hall were left open, letting the moonlight stream into 
 the room, bringing to her messages of friends out- 
 side her prison. 
 
 Aunt Chloe snored loudly in the easy chair. She 
 knew Miss Brown was resting well, for she had sat up 
 for three nights, writing, reading and watching and 
 she was very quiet now. 
 
 Presently the clock striking eleven arrested her 
 thoughts. Aunt Chloe stirred uneasily and Lillian 
 put her hand on her arm, which awakened her. Lean- 
 ing over to her she whispered, softly: 
 
 ' ' Aunt Chloe, go get me some fresh water from the 
 well; I am so thirsty, I can't go to sleep." 
 
 "I can't, Miss," Aunt Chloe whispered back. 
 "Miss Evelyn's got the key under her head and she'd 
 be mad if I waked her up." 
 
 1 1 Can 't you slip your hand under the pillow and get 
 the key? She is sleeping so soundly. I want some 
 fresh water and I don't want to punish you for not 
 minding a spirit. ' ' 
 
 Ah, now she had struck the right chord. The old 
 woman looked at Lillian in a frightened awe-struck 
 way. The moonlight falling over her pale face gave 
 her a strange, weird look, not unlike the spirit Aunt 
 Chloe believed her. As with dilated eyes and bated 
 breath she gazed at Mrs. Sperit, her memory car- 
 ried her back to the day, many years ago, when she 
 had seen Lillian De Vere at Anston, and some one had 
 told her she was "Marse Walter's sweetheart." She 
 
292 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 had thought then she had never seen anyone half so 
 beautiful. 
 
 " Shore, she's lubly as an angel/ ' had been her ex- 
 clamation then, and just as lovely Lillian seemed 
 now, as with the dark hair thrown from her face, the 
 large, dark eyes looked into her own so pleadingly. 
 
 She was dressed in white that day and her being 
 all in Avhite now made the resemblance between 
 the two complete and striking. How could she re- 
 fuse to obey a sperit? 
 
 If she didn't give her the water and she should die, 
 or float back to the "spirit land," she might "bant" 
 her all her life. She couldn't stand that thought. 
 
 Rising she tiptoed into Miss Evelyn's room and 
 stealthily felt for the key. Aunt Chloe was too used 
 to taking things "on the sly" not to know just how 
 to proceed. She had a plausible story fixed up if 
 Miss Evelyn should awaken and find her there. But 
 that lady was sleeping too soundly to be awakened 
 easily, and after a few minutes the old negress re- 
 turned to the door and held up the key to Lillian, with 
 a broad grin at her success, who smiled at her encour- 
 agingly. 
 
 She did not lock the door behind her, from fear of 
 waking Miss Evelyn, and she walked slowly in the 
 moonlight, which made every object as bright as day. 
 
 It is probable not even the fear of after punishment 
 could have induced her to come a dark night, as she 
 was easily frightened by the dark. But it was so 
 bright, and then she thought she would take a dip of 
 snuff, of which she was specially fond, but which Miss 
 Evelyn forbade her to use, and she had to be very 
 careful not to be found out. 
 
 The well was a public one, not very near any house. 
 Seating herself on a trough, which had been placed 
 
LILLIAN'S ESCAPE 
 
 293 
 
 there for the purpose of watering horses, she indulged 
 in the luxury of the snuff-dipping without fear of 
 anyone molesting her or making her afraid. 
 
 Not a soul was in sight. The few houses, separated 
 some distance from each other, gave no evidence of 
 being inhabitated. Having leisurely finished her 
 "dip," and pumped the water, she returned to the 
 house, locked the door with as little noise as possible, 
 carefully put the key to its place, and with a sigh of 
 relief carried the water to Lillian's room to find the 
 bed and room unoccupied. 
 
 For a moment she stared in blank astonishment at 
 the empty bed and then a piercing scream rent the 
 midnight air, rousing Miss Brown from her sound 
 sleep. 
 
 Hastening to the room, she saw Aunt Chloe prone 
 on the floor, making the most awful groans. 
 
 "What's the matter, mammy? and where is Mrs. 
 Devereux ? ' ' 
 
 "She's done flew away, Miss Evelyn. I said she'd 
 go jest that way. She done tole me she was Miss 
 Lilliun Dare Bear's sperit and now she done gone 
 way through the keyhole. ' ' 
 
 Miss Brown looked aghast. 
 
 "What do you mean? Where is the lady? Tell 
 me at once, mammy, and hush your foolishness. ' ' 
 
 There was anger and determination in the tone that 
 Aunt Chloe knew w r ell. She saw that her young mis- 
 tress was pale with excitement and surprise. It 
 would never do to tell her the truth. To feign ignor- 
 ance was the only recourse left her. Looking up 
 from the sitting posture she had assumed, she said, in 
 trembling accents, rocking herself from side to side: 
 
 "I 'clare 'fore gracious, Miss Evelyn, I don't know 
 whar she is. I jest fell asleep a little while, I was 
 
294 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 so tired. I jest loss myself a little minute and when 
 I waked up she was gone. I looked under the bed 
 and in the wardrobe and every where ; then I tried the 
 window in your room and that was nailed, and I went 
 to the door and dat was locked. Den I jest screamed, 
 'cause I knowed she was a spirit jest like she said she 
 was. ' ' 
 
 Miss Brown, finding she would be able to get no 
 satisfaction from Aunt Chloe, after finding the win- 
 dow secure and the door locked, began to search in 
 every conceivable and inconceivable place, as we are 
 apt to do when we lose anything we value. Her 
 search proving unsuccessful, she sat down for a 
 few minutes to study what steps she should take to 
 recover the fugitive. The thought that would in- 
 trude was: 
 
 "What will Walter say? He cautioned us not to 
 let her get out of our sight a minute. Where could 
 she be?" In great perplexity and excitement, she 
 asked herself this question over and over again. 
 
 Not a suspicion of the truth crossed her mind. She 
 knew "mammy" was superstitious and untruthful, 
 when it suited her to be so, but she did not for a mo- 
 ment doubt her allegiance to the family and had the 
 utmost confidence in her statement. 
 
 She had no idea "mammy" knew where she hid the 
 key, but "mammy" though she boasted she always 
 minded her own business and let other "folkes" alone 
 and put on a very indifferent air about things that 
 did not concern her, at the same time was full of cu- 
 riosity about anything that she knew was kept from 
 her and by some means or other rarely failed to find 
 out the secret. 
 
 She had watched Miss Evelyn one night through 
 
LILLIAN'S ESCAPE 295 
 
 the crevice in the door and had chuckled at her knowl- 
 edge : 
 
 ' ' White folkes think they'se mighty smart, but they 
 can't git way with dis ole nigger, shore thing," she 
 thought. 
 
 Evelyn Brown was not a person to give up easily, 
 In a much shorter time than it has taken us to describe 
 her consternation at finding Lillian gone, she had 
 made her search and decided what to do. Her first 
 proceeding was to knock loudly at the door that sepa- 
 rated her apartments from the front of the house, 
 occupied by another family. 
 
 4 'Who's that?" came in a man's quick tone. 
 
 4 'It is I, Mr. Snow. The sick lady has gotten off 
 somewhere and I wish you would help me find her." 
 
 ' ' Certainly, I will, ' ' was the answer. 
 
 A minute after the door was unlocked and a 
 woman, pale and excited, appeared on the scene. 
 While Miss Evelyn dressed for her search on the 
 street, she told Mrs. Snow of the mysterious occur- 
 rence. 
 
 "I think her mind has been wandering several 
 days, ' ' Miss Brown said. 4 ' She has been talking very 
 strangely to Aunt Chloe. It must be mental aberra- 
 tion, but I can't conceive, for my life, how she could 
 have gotten out of the house." 
 
 "It is the strangest thing I ever heard of," Mrs. 
 Snow said, while Aunt Chloe, who was still grunting 
 .and groaning, said : 
 
 "She tole me she was a sperit and a sperit can git 
 outen any whar. She got outen that keyhole, dat's 
 whar she got out, and you won't find her, nuther, ef 
 you look for her all night. ' ' 
 
 And so it proved; but we must go back to Lillian. 
 When she first proposed to the old woman to go for 
 
296 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 the water, it was because she was thirsty and thought 
 some fresh water might compose her to sleep. When 
 Aunt Chloe held up the key exultingly to her, a wild 
 hope came to Lillian that she might, with the careless- 
 ness characteristic of her race, leave the door un- 
 locked. If so, she would try to escape. With imtense 
 excitement she listened and found she had not locked 
 it, by the stream of moonlight that came from the 
 little space left open. 
 
 Once during Miss Brown's absence she had sent 
 Aunt Chloe to the rear of the house on an errand, 
 and, while she was gone, had explored the room, to 
 find the dress, hat and slippers she had worn when 
 brought there, in the wardrobe. Even her purse, 
 which she had in a secret pocket, had not been re- 
 moved. She had hidden that. As soon as she found 
 out the door was open she sprang from the bed, 
 dressed with all the haste of desperation, took her 
 slippers in her hand and glided through the hall and 
 out of the door into the moonlight as noiselessly as 
 the spirit Aunt Chloe believed her. 
 
 One glance showed her the old woman and the well. 
 Taking an opposite direction, and keeping the house 
 between her and Aunt Chloe, she put on her slippers 
 and sped rapidly on, with no object in view save to 
 widen the distance between her enemies and herself. 
 She passed several large houses, which she correctly 
 surmised were manufactories, and the small house* 
 the homes of the operatives. 
 
 How still everything was ! No one was to be seen. 
 Almost exhausted with her rapid flight, she was about 
 to seek some secluded place to rest when the sight of 
 a man, who had doubtless seen her, decided her as to 
 her future course, Almost breathless with fatigue 
 
LILLIAN'S ESCAPE 
 
 297 
 
 and excitement she approached him, and with one 
 look into his face, which reassured her, she said : 
 
 * ' Oh, sir, protect me. My enemies, who have great- 
 ly wronged me, will pursue me, and, if they can, will 
 take me back to a fate worse than death. If you will 
 get me a conveyance of any kind, I will reward you 
 well for your trouble/' 
 
 Now, Jack Philips, private watchman for the 
 4 ' Siegel Shops Company, ' ' had been walking with his 
 head bent down, and was so deeply engrossed in 
 gloomy thoughts of the mortgage that was threatening 
 the loss of his little home, he had not seen nor heard 
 Lillian 's approach. Policemen who have been long in 
 the service are always on the lookout for adventures, 
 and are, therefore, prepared to meet them; but Jack 
 Philips had only been a watchman two weeks, and to 
 say he was startled at Lillian's sudden appearance, 
 brave man though he was, but poorly expresses the 
 feelings with which he regarded the lovely apparition 
 that at the hour of midnight, bathed in the soft radi- 
 ance of moonlight, stood before him, and with 
 sweetest, most musical voice, with large, dark, beseech- 
 ing eyes raised to his, made her impassioned plea for 
 protection. For a few minutes he was bewildered, 
 then with a strong effort he pulled his wits together 
 and said most respectfully : 
 
 "I am very sorry, madame, I cannot do you the 
 favor you ask. I am a private watchman and cannot 
 leave my post, else I would most gladly render you 
 any assistance in my power." 
 
 "I thank you," was the gentle reply. <f Do you 
 know anyone near, any nice respectable family who 
 would receive me into their home for the night. I 
 am so fatigued I cannot go much farther tonight; I 
 will pay anyone well for a night's lodging." 
 
298 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 After a moment's hesitation and a keen look into 
 the beautiful eyes, which looked back into his own so 
 pleadingly and honestly, he said : 
 
 4 1 1 have a friend, a Mr. Samuel Marks, who, I think, 
 would befriend you for the remainder of the night. 
 We can but try. He lives in the third house from 
 here." 
 
 As the man guided her to the place referred to, she 
 said : 
 
 44 Will you tell me your name, that I may know to 
 whom I am indebted for this kindness?'' 
 
 "My name is John Philips, ma'am." 
 
 4 'Thank you," she said; a I am Mrs. Robert Nel- 
 son. Mr. Philips, will you promise me, under no cir- 
 cumstances, to betray me should I be pursued ? They 
 will probably tell you I am insane or something to 
 that effect to induce you to betray me, but be faithful 
 to me and tomorrow will prove my statements to you 
 to be absolutely true and you will never regret aid- 
 ing me." 
 
 As she uttered these words Jack gave her a search- 
 ing look, which must have satisfied him as to her 
 mental soundness, for he promised, and, having by this 
 time reached their destination, he rapped loudly at 
 the door, while Lillian gazed down the street with fear 
 and trembling, lest she should see some one coming 
 to carry her back. She had determined not to be car- 
 ried back unless force and drugs were employed, aa 
 before ; but she wished, if possible, to avoid the pub- 
 licity of such a scene as would ensue, and, knowing 
 the determination of those with whom she had to deal, 
 she feared the result for herself. 
 
 1 ' Who's there?" was the quick reply to the sum- 
 mons. 
 
 "Jack Philips! A lady wants to see you," 
 
LILLIAN'S ESCAPE 
 
 299 
 
 In her heart Lillian thanked him for thinking her 
 a lady. The man soon appeared. 
 
 ' 'Mr. Marks, Mrs. Nelson. Mrs. Nelson will ex- 
 plain ; I must return to my post. Good-night. ' ' 
 
 Most gladly availing herself of the invitation to 
 enter, she was met in the hall by Mrs. Marks, who 
 was anxious to know what this meant. Lillian told 
 them substantially what she had told Mr. Philips, and 
 asked to spend the night, as she supposed it was too 
 late to get a conveyance. Mr. and Mrs. Marks con- 
 sented to accommodate her, and Lillian asked Mr. 
 Marks if he could get her a carriage early in the 
 morning. 
 
 "I could do so, ma'am, but I have to go to my work 
 by six o'clock/' 
 
 ' ' Could you not get off for a few hours ? I would 
 pay you much more than you would lose." 
 
 Mr. Marks said he would try, and Mrs. Marks soon 
 ushered her into a very scantily furnished room, say- 
 ing apologetically: 
 
 "I wish I could accommodate you better, but Sam 
 and I are just married, and we will have to get fixed 
 by degrees." 
 
 Lillkm, with a most grateful smile, assured her her 
 accommodations were amply sufficient for her com- 
 fort. She tried hard to sleep, but the excitement was 
 too great until about day, when she fell off into a 
 troubled sleep, in which Walter Brunette had had her 
 arrested as insane and carried back to her place of 
 confinement. 
 
 The sun was shining brightly when she awoke. Mrs. 
 Marks brought her a plain but well-cooked breakfast, 
 to which she did justice. With daylight had come 
 hope and a feeling of security from danger, and a 
 
300 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 bright anticipation of the pleasure of soon meeting her 
 friends shone in her eyes. 
 
 Mr. Marks got off from his work on the score of 
 important business, and was soon on the street cars 
 to get a carriage. Lillian had asked Mr. and Mrs. 
 Marks to ride with her to Mrs. Chastine 's, that she 
 might prove the truth of what she had told them, and 
 they consented. Hidden beneath a thick veil, bor- 
 rowed from Mrs. Marks, she and her friends in need 
 were soon on their way to her friends. For miles 
 they pursued their way through streets busy with 
 the bustle of trade for Christmas. Then through 
 more quiet streets, until at last Mrs. Chastine 's resi- 
 dence came in sight. 
 
 ' 4 Oh, I 'm safe now, ' ' she exclaimed, and very soon 
 she was receiving a most enthusiastic greeting from 
 her equally surprised and delighted friends. Every 
 attention and courtesy was showered upon Mr. and 
 Mrs. Marks for their kindness to Lillian during their 
 short stay, and when they left Lillian slipped a note 
 into Mr. Marks' hand and another into that of his 
 wife, and they departed, feeling they had entertained 
 an angel unawares. 
 
 After Lillian had told her story, Mrs. Chastine 
 told her to prepare herself for happiness as great as 
 the trouble she had borne. They told her of Mr. Nel- 
 son 's return and of his great grief at her mysterious 
 disappearance. 
 
 "Walter Brunette is at the bottom of it," he had 
 said in the bitterness of his disappointment, "and I 
 will never rest satisfied until I see him hung. 1 9 
 
 He had left New Orleans a few days before to go 
 to New York to employ the best detectives there to 
 work up the case. 
 
CAUGHT AT LAST 301 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 CAUGHT AT LAST. 
 
 On the same morning of Lillian's return to her 
 friends, Judge Allan sat in his room in his favorite 
 posture, reclining in an easy chair, with his feet on a 
 table, the smoke of his cigar circling over his head. 
 He was thinking of Mrs. Devereux, who was never 
 out of his mind when alone. AVherever he was his 
 thoughts always reverted to her. He did not deem it 
 prudent to go often to the cottage, but Evelyn had 
 kept her promise of keeping him posted in regard to 
 the condition of his fair prisoner. A letter received 
 from her the evening before had stated that she 
 seemed conscious, but remained as quiet as ever, mak- 
 ing no comments and asking no questions. 
 
 44 Her appetite is better, " his cousin wrote, "and 
 altogether her condition is more favorable than it has 
 been. I hope she will soon be well, and you will 
 make some disposal of her, as I feel so keenly the 
 responsibility you have imposed upon me. Strangely 
 enough, mammy thinks she is Lillian De Vere's spirit 
 and is so afraid of her I have watched three nights in 
 succession to rest her and reconcile her to her usual 
 watch of every alternate night, so I am alone tonight. 
 The patient is resting well, and I am sure mammy is, 
 for I hear her loud snore. Tomorrow night she must 
 take her usual place. You said the lady bore a most 
 striking resemblance to Miss De Vere, whom mammy 
 saw once or twice before she was married. Oh, 
 Walter, how much your mother and I wish you had 
 never seen her whose fatal beauty has been the bane 
 
302 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 of your and our existence, and this one, who is, you 
 say, so like her, must needs cross your path and turn 
 your head again. How unlike yourself you have 
 been, dear Walter, since first you saw her and this 
 lady who bewitches you with her fair pale beauty. 
 As I sit and think of the sad troubled past there is 
 a foreboding of coming evil, a dark shadow that en- 
 shrouds my heart. ' ' 
 
 Judge Allan seemed not to have caught this gloomy 
 spirit, for there was a smile of satisfaction on his 
 face, a look of triumph in his fine eyes, from which 
 the glasses had been removed. They greatly altered 
 the expression of his eyes and made him look much 
 older than he really was. Now without them, though 
 quite gray, he was a singularly handsome man. He 
 had made up his mind and his plans and was busy 
 perfecting them when there came a knock at the door. 
 Thinking it was a servant, he said: "Come in," and 
 was surprised to see two men enter. They advanced 
 to him and one said : 
 
 "This is Judge Allan, alias Walter Brunette. I 
 have a warrant for your arrest. You are charged 
 with the abduction of Mrs. Robert Nelson on the night 
 of November 16, 18— 
 
 Those who knew Walter Brunette well would have 
 noticed a slight pallor creep into his cheek, but the 
 men, being strangers, saw not a ripple of emotion 
 upon the face raised so boldly, so unflinchingly to 
 their own. Indeed, the man seemed to regard the 
 reading of the warrant as a jest, and said with the 
 utmost composure when it was finished : 
 
 " You have made a mistake, gentlemen, in the per- 
 son. I know no lady by that name. I can prove my 
 character and identity by hundreds of people in this 
 city." 
 
CAUGHT AT LAST 
 
 303 
 
 "In due time you will have it to prove," was the 
 gruff answer. "You must come with us now, and if 
 you are not the person charged with this crime you 
 can prove it, as you say, before the proper author- 
 ities." 
 
 "I will submit to no such indignity," Walter 
 Brunette said, with the look and air of an insulted 
 prince, and with the strength of a trained athlete he 
 broke from the grasp of his captors and rushed to the 
 door, to find it locked on the outside. With an ex- 
 pression of rage, he faced the men, who advanced to 
 seize him a second time, and, raising himself to his 
 full height, with his back to the door, said : 
 
 i 6 Shoot me as you would a dog. I resist arrest and 
 the law gives you power to shoot such a one. Take 
 good aim and dispatch me at once. ' ' 
 
 At this moment the door was pushed open with 
 such violence he was thrown from his position, and 
 before he could recover himself the officers, assisted 
 by Mr. Chastine and Mr. Scott, had him fast, and soon 
 he was being whirled away in a close carriage, 
 guarded by the four men. After a sullen silence of 
 a few minutes, the prisoner asked : 
 
 "Who is Mrs. Robert Nelson, for whose abduction 
 I am arrested? I know no such woman." 
 
 Chester Chastine replied: 
 
 "She is the wife of Robert Nelson, of Randolph 
 Hall, which is not far from your former home. You 
 first knew her as Miss Lillian De Vere, and on her 
 refusing to marry you, you began a series of persecu- 
 tions against her and the gentleman she married that 
 makes a record worthy of a romance rather than the 
 plain unvarnished truth. For all of these you will 
 have to suffer, but you are arrested for your last 
 
304 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 attack upon her, because it is the only one that was 
 committed in this state." 
 
 61 What you say sounds indeed like a romance to 
 me. I assert again most positively I do not know a 
 living person by that name," came from Brunette's 
 lips. 
 
 "Oh, no, of course not," Chester replied. "You 
 abducted her as Mrs. Devereux — a name she assumed 
 after her miraculous escape from death by drowning 
 to try to outwit your perfidy. She had brain fever 
 and the white hair, which was the result of your 
 cowardly attack upon her husband, came out and hair 
 of the same color as before her marriage took its place. 
 How you found out her identity is a mystery known 
 only to yourself. You abducted her and last night 
 she made her escape, and is today with her friends, 
 who will see to it that you will not molest her again. 
 In a few days she will be reunited to her husband, 
 whom you have so long kept from her by your 
 chicanery. He returned while you had his wife hid- 
 den away, and is in New York now, using every means 
 to find her. He said he knew your villainy had 
 caused her sudden disappearance. You see, we know 
 all your wickedness and are prepared to prove it all 
 along, so you needn't assume that look of injured 
 innocence. The last words Mrs. Nelson said as we 
 started out for the officers to arrest you were: 1 Be 
 sure to confine him most securely. He is such an 
 adept in cunning he will certainly elude you if there 
 is the slightest possibility, and I will never feel safe 
 again if he is at large/ Poor lady! 'tis no wonder 
 she feels so when she has suffered so much and so long 
 from your attacks/' 
 
 Walter Brunette gave no intimation of the surprise 
 Chester Chastine 's words gave him. As the reader is 
 
CAUGHT AT LAST 
 
 305 
 
 aware, he did not know Mrs. Devereux to be Lillian, 
 He listened to the words that showed his career of 
 crime was known to these men with the utmost indif- 
 ference — not a muscle moved, not an expression 
 changed. You would have imagined he was taking a 
 morning drive with his friends to judge by his com- 
 posed manner. 
 
 ' ' He is the coolest villain I ever saw, ' 9 was Chester 
 Chastine 's comment after he had seen Brunette safely 
 imprisoned, and all the men agreed with him. 
 
 Scarcely fifteen minutes had elapsed after Judge 
 Allan's arrest before another close carriage drove up 
 to the door of the hotel, from which a lady alighted. 
 Meeting a servant in the veranda, she asked him if 
 Judge Allan was in his room, and, if so, to tell him 
 that a lady wished to see him on business. The 
 waiter looked curiously at her for a moment and then 
 said, as if much relieved : 
 
 " Judge Allan is not in his room, ma'am. But here 
 is Mr. Beckwith, who can tell you where he is better 
 than I can. Walk in the parlor while he explains." 
 
 Evelyn Brown, for it was she, had come to tell her 
 cousin of Lillian's escape and to get advice from him. 
 She wondered what the servant meant, but did as he 
 directed, and had just seated herself when Jack Beck- 
 with entered. After the usual salutations were ex- 
 changed, Mr. Beckwith said : 
 
 "You wished to see Judge Allan on business — law 
 business, I suppose?" 
 
 Evelyn nodded her head in the affirmative, where- 
 upon Jack Beckwith, thinking the lady was only a 
 client of the supposed judge, with a desire most of 
 us have to tell anything new and strange, proceeded 
 to relate all of Lillian's interesting history so far as 
 
306 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 he knew it, the outlines of which Chester Chastine 
 had that morning given him. 
 
 Evelyn, cognizant of events of which he was igno- 
 rant, understood it all. She was very silent, making 
 no comment, she was incapable of making any, sat 
 listening with outward composure,, but her heart was 
 beating so fast and wildly she put her hand under her 
 cape to still it, lest the stranger should hear it. 
 
 Evelyn never knew how she bore the trying ordeal 
 of this stranger's words so calmly, when she felt just 
 like screaming or fainting; but she escaped from his 
 presence without giving him the least suspicion of 
 how his words had robbed her of all the brightness 
 life had for her, for she had loved this man for years 
 with all the strength of her heroic nature, and nothing 
 he did could kill nor lessen it. After she had left the 
 street on which the hotel was* located, she bade the 
 driver take her to the prison. There, being refused 
 admittance, she was driven to the depot, and, learning 
 that the next northern-bound train left at five o 'clock 
 P. m., she ordered the driver to take her to the cottage 
 and return in time for her to take the northern-bound 
 train. She told Mrs. Snow the lady had made her 
 way to her friends, but she had not found out how ; 
 that she had received news that called her home at 
 once, and she and Aunt Chloe spent the rest of the 
 day packing, and that evening left for Cuckoo's Nest 
 to bear the sad tidings to the long-suffering mother, 
 over whose head this fear had hung like a sword sus- 
 pended for years. Mrs. Snow never knew the drama 
 in which she acted a part. About a year previous, 
 Mr. Snow was threatened to be put out of the house 
 for house rent when a gentlemanly stranger passing 
 inquired the cause of their distress, and, when he 
 could get the officer to show them no mercy, himself 
 
CAUGHT AT LAST 307 
 
 paid the amount due and a month's rent in advance. 
 
 He gave his name as Mr. Howell. After this he 
 came occasionally to the cottage, where he always re- 
 ceived a hearty welcome. One night he came and told 
 them a young lady friend of his was losing her mind 
 from the use of opiates and her relatives wished him 
 to secure a quiet place where she could be kept from 
 the use of narcotics. He rented the back of the house 
 and one night brought the young lady, in a state of 
 insensibility, to the cottage. Mrs. Snow was em- 
 ployed to nurse her until other nurses should arrive 
 who thoroughly understood the lady's condition. 
 
 Soon Evelyn and Aunt Chloe came and relieved her 
 of her care. How the lady managed to escape to her 
 friends always remained a mystery, not only to them 
 but to the Brunette family as well. It was one secret 
 Aunt Chloe kept locked in her own breast. Knowing 
 the disastrous consequences that resulted to the family 
 from Lillian's escape, fear, if nothing else, kept her 
 quiet. 
 
 A few days after Lillian's return to her friends 
 Jack Philips, to his great astonishment and joy, re- 
 ceived a check for a hundred dollars, 6 6 for his assist- 
 ance to a lady in distress. ' ' This timely aid enabled 
 him to tide over the threatened foreclosure of the 
 mortgage and save his little home. Sam Marks and 
 his wife received from the same source, "for the kind- 
 ness rendered a stranger in need," a sum sufficient 
 not only to furnish nicely the room in which Lillian 
 had lodged, but to get many other articles of which 
 the young couple were in need. 
 
308 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 HOME AT LAST. 
 
 It did not require much persuasion on Robert's 
 part to induce Captain Harry to accompany him 
 home, the old Captain agreeing to the separation from 
 his nephew for a year as a sort of penance for his 
 share in the plot that had so long separated Robert 
 from his friends, and of which he was so heartily 
 ashamed he could bear no allusion to it. With the 
 6 ' Nelson' ' ring in his possession and Captain Harry 
 to substantiate his story, Robert did not find it very 
 difficult to prove his personality to his lawyers, for 
 which the letter they had received from Captain 
 Harry had somewhat prepared them. Indeed, since 
 Lillian's sudden reappearance they were prepared for 
 almost anything singular and romantic, and were very 
 sincere and hearty in their congratulations on Robert's 
 return to claim his possessions, the care of which had 
 given them trouble as well as a fine income. Having 
 learned from them Lillian's residence in New Orleans, 
 and after having commissioned one of the lawyers to 
 go to the Hall and tell the strange story and have such 
 arrangements made there as would be necessary for 
 their speedy return to their home, Robert and Captain 
 Harry took the next train for the South, which proved 
 the fastest but which to Robert seemed very slow, so 
 anxious was he to see again his beloved Lillian and 
 present her to his friend, to whom he had so often 
 spoken of her. Judge the bitterness of his grief and 
 disappointment to find her gone, and her fate en- 
 shrouded in mystery. 
 
HOME AT LAST 
 
 309 
 
 He went over and over everything connected with 
 her last words and acts, and at once pronounced it 
 another instance of Walter Brunette's perfidy. The 
 case was again given to detectives and Robert worked 
 day and night with them, but no clue could be ob- 
 tained. Almost wild with disappointment and excite- 
 ment, he and Captain Harry had gone to New York 
 and secured the best skill to be found, in hope that 
 some clue might yet be obtained, when the joyous 
 news flashed over the wires that Lillian had returned 
 and was safe with her friends, and was counting the 
 moments that must intervene before his return. 
 
 We will not attempt to describe the meeting be- 
 tween the long-separated and sorely-tried pair. If 
 our language were not too poor to furnish words toi 
 describe the scene, it is too sacred to be intruded upon 
 by their dearest friends, much less, by the public, 
 however interested they may be in the fate of the two 
 who loved each other so devotedly and who had been 
 so treacherously dealt with. We will, therefore, draw 
 a curtain over the most interesting act in the drama 
 and leave imagination with its fairy fingers to paint 
 it for each reader. A most happy Christmas was 
 spent with their friends and then Robert and Lillian, 
 accompanied by Iva and Viola Chastine and Captain 
 Harry, started for the Hall. They reached Melton 
 at five o 'clock one lovely evening in winter. The sun 
 had set, but the stars twinkled them a welcome, and a 
 new moon greeted them with her lovely crescent. 
 
 Surely the Hall had never in its palmiest days 
 looked more imposing than on their approach. It 
 was brilliantly illuminated from cellar to turret. A 
 large silk flag floated in the breeze, waving them a 
 welcome with its graceful folds. The loveliest flowers 
 bloomed in the conservatory as if to honor the occa- 
 
810 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 sion. All the tenants gathered on the sides of the 
 walks to greet them, and old friends filled the porches. 
 Among the first to advance were Dr. Graham and 
 Vivian. Disease and time had dealt harshly with the 
 doctor. His head had whitened and his once erect 
 form was bent, but his face, though more wrinkled 
 than when we saw it last, beamed with keenest 
 pleasure as he welcomed back his friends as from the 
 dead. 
 
 Vivian was the same sweet, thoughtful girl, who, 
 since her mother's death, had kept house for " papa, 7 7 
 and had been more a companion than a daughter to 
 him. Young Dr. Graham, who had married in a dis- 
 tant city and was practicing medicine there, was on a 
 visit to his father and was proud to be present on this 
 interesting occasion. Maude had married a young 
 physician and was living at Moss Side. She, her 
 noble husband and two sweet babes were at the Hall 
 to join in the delight of the home-coming. How can 
 we picture Mrs. Coles' joy as she again clasped the 
 hands of her beloved master and mistress. With 
 tears raining down her cheeks, she bade them welcome 
 again to their home. 
 
 With Mr. Anderson to arrange outside affairs and 
 Mrs. Coles and her brother to aid him in every way in 
 their line, nothing had been left undone to make the 
 Hall appear as grand and yet as homelike as it had 
 formerly been. New paint, frescoing, upholstering, 
 and furnishing had rendered it in every way a most 
 attractive place, and with its noble master and lovely 
 mistress to preside over it, every guest found it a 
 most delightful place of sojourn. One of the first 
 things Mr. Anderson had done was to have the monu- 
 ments which had been erected to Robert's and Lil- 
 lian's memory torn down and thrown into the river 
 
HOME AT LAST 
 
 311 
 
 and the ground leveled, that so far as possible every- 
 thing connected with the sad past might be removed. 
 
 "With the summer came Mrs. Chastine, Mr. Chester 
 and family, Mr. Scott and family, Gerald Lemoine 
 and Jack Beckwith. 1 
 
 Gerald Lemoine has yielded gracefully to the 
 inevitable, and rumor says is now the favored suitor 
 of Viola Chastine. In accordance with Lillian's 
 advice he did not tell her of his former love, and if 
 the fair girl suspected it, she was sensible enough not 
 to be jealous of her lover's past devotion to one whose 
 charms were so universally acknowledged. 
 
 It seems to be understood that Jack Beckwith has 
 a claim upon Iva Chastine. Indeed, there is to be a 
 double wedding in the Chastine family in October, but 
 only a few friends know it yet. 
 
 Captain Harry is a general favorite alike with 
 ladies and gentlemen, while between him and Robert 
 there is a love similar to that which existed between 
 Jonathan and David, for the soul of Robert is knit 
 with the soul of Captain Harry, and Robert loves him 
 as his own soul. Robert feels that under heaven he 
 owes his life, his reason, his restoration to freedom 
 and happiness to Captain Harry ; but apart from the 
 gratitude he feels for such blessings, he loves the 
 young man for his many fine qualities of head and 
 heart. He and Lillian smile approvingly when they 
 notice Captain Harry's increasing fondness for 
 Vivian Graham's society. That may be because there 
 is a similarity and a consequent congeniality of feeling 
 between the two in circumstances. Vivian says she 
 will never marry so long as her father lives; that he 
 shall always feel he has one near him who loves him 
 best and is willing to give hijn her best service to the 
 end. 
 
312 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 Captain Harry feels just that way about Captai# 
 Hal, and this, perhaps, draws them to each other. 
 Robert grieves that Captain Harry must leave in Octo- 
 ber to join his uncle in London, when he makes his 
 yearly trip there in November. One thing helps to 
 reconcile him to the separation. Learning that 
 • 4 Cuckoo's Nest," with all its appurtenances, was for 
 sale, Captain Harry at once made arrangements to 
 purchase it. Joe Dawson as manager and his mother 
 as housekeeper were retained ; indeed, as the furniture 
 was sold with the house, there has been no change 
 made in the management except that the business has 
 been transferred from Mrs. Brunette's lawyers to 
 Budd and Anderson. 
 
 Robert feels his having a home so near the Hall 
 will attach Captain Harry more to them, and in case 
 of the old Captain's death the young Captain may 
 be induced to settle near them. 
 
 Lillian is more beautiful than ever. Time, as if 
 loath to touch unkindly such lovely features, has only 
 rounded and perfected them. Sorrow and trouble 
 have only softened the expression of countenance and 
 the eyes, making them more charming than in their 
 youthful brilliant beauty. If there is a gray hair 
 under the luxuriant dark tresses, it is ashamed to be 
 seen and hides itself from sight. 
 
 Robert has not been so much a favorite with time 
 and care. While still a handsome man, with a fine 
 intellectual countenance, his hair and moustache are 
 quite gray and his face bears traces of sorrow and his 
 long confinement. His physicians say if he had not 
 inherited much of the iron constitution of his first 
 ancestors, had not possessed, as they did, "a sound 
 mind in a sound body," his life or his reason would 
 probably have succumbed to his long, close and trying 
 
HOME AT LAST 
 
 313 
 
 imprisonment. As it is, they think he will soon tide 
 over the effects and yet live to a good old age. The 
 Psalmist says: ' 'Weeping may endure for a night, 
 but joy cometh in the morning.' 7 
 
 Surely it was a long, dark night of sorrow to the 
 young couple who began their married life under such 
 apparently auspicious circumstances. How soon 
 heavy clouds gathered and lowered over their skies! 
 If an occasional rift came, in which the stars of hope 
 began to glimmer, how speedily it was again obscured ! 
 But at last the dawn appeared and a morning of joy 
 came, giving promise of a glorious noontide. Joy- 
 bells rang where tear-drops had so often gathered, 
 and the Hall is now one of the happiest places to be 
 found. 
 
 Sometimes the sorrows that darken our skies and 
 cause bitter weeping endure until death comes to take 
 us to the spirit-land; then, if God is our Father, He 
 tenderly wipes all the tears from our eyes and bids 
 us a welcome to the joys of an eternal morn. Then 
 we, too, are "Home at Last." 
 
314 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEKE 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 BRUNETTE *S ESCAPE. 
 
 Walter Brunette's native state made requisition of 
 the state of Louisiana for the prisoner, which, after 
 an unaccountable delay of months, was granted. He 
 was brought to Melton and confined in the jail there 
 to await his trial at the next court. A few days after 
 the sheriff received an intimation that there was 
 danger of the prisoner being lynched, and he was 
 secretly conveyed to a place of greater security. The 
 very next night a party of masked men appeared at 
 the jail in Melton and demanded that the prisoner 
 be given up to them. AVhen they found out he was 
 beyond the reach of their vengeance, they became 
 incensed and threats of burning the sheriff's house 
 were whispered around. In the midst of the excite- 
 ment Robert and Captain Harry appeared on the 
 scene. They had learned in some way of the inten- 
 tion of the mob and had come to stop any act of vio- 
 lence, if possible. 
 
 Robert's presence increased rather than calmed the 
 excited maskers for a while, but when on his horse, 
 flecked with foam from his rapid ride, he pleaded with 
 them to commit no act of violence, they became quiet 
 and listened while he told them that, while he and 
 his wife appreciated the feelings that prompted them 
 to revenge their wrongs, yet they could endorse nor 
 encourage no act of lawlessness on their part. 
 
 "We should always uphold the majesty of the law 
 
BRUNETTE'S ESCAPE 
 
 315 
 
 and yield implicit obedience to its demands. No set 
 of men has a right to take the law in their hands. 
 Let the prisoner have a fair trial, and, if he is proved 
 guilty, then let him be punished according to right 
 and justice/ 7 
 
 By degrees he who had suffered so much at the 
 hands of the offender succeeded in allaying their 
 turbulent spirits and they quietly dispersed. 
 
 One evening about three weeks afterwards Lillian 
 sat alone on the veranda watching for Robert's return 
 from the city. Iva, Viola and Captain Harry were 
 spending a few days at Moss Side, between which 
 place and the Hall the former footing of intimacy had 
 been established. Robert had gone to the city on busi- 
 ness and Lillian was watching for his return. Believ- 
 ing their enemy to be where he could never again 
 molest them, there was a look of happy expectancy in 
 Lillian's splendid eyes and a bright smile took its 
 place as she saw Robert coming and ran to meet him. 
 His first words as she drew near arrested her steps 
 and made her heart chill with a fear she had thought 
 never again to feel. 
 
 i ' Lillian, Walter Brunette has escaped." 
 
 1 ' Escaped ! ' ' Lillian repeated. 
 
 4 4 Yes, darling, here is the paper giving an account 
 of how he managed. ' ' 
 
 ' 'Oh, Robert, w T e will never be safe again! I will 
 never feel another moment's peace." 
 
 Robert tried to soothe her excited feelings by telling 
 her he surely would never again trust himself in that 
 section, that he would be in too great peril of recap- 
 ture j but it was a long time before he could quiet her 
 
316 
 
 LILLIAN DeVEEE 
 
 sufficiently to allow him to read the account of his 
 escape, which was as follows: 
 
 BROKE JAIL WITH A BIBLE. 
 
 DUMMY FOOLED BRUNETTE'S KEEPER. 
 
 GOOD BOOK RAISED HIM TO ROOF. 
 
 Marshall, April 17. — "Walter W. Brunette, charged 
 with several very grave crimes, and who was brought 
 
 here several weeks ago by the sheriff of L County 
 
 for greater security, escaped between nine o'clock last 
 night and four o'clock this morning. The night 
 guard in the jail was deceived on his half -hourly trips 
 by a dummy man on Brunette's cot in cell No. 21. 
 
 When Brunette did not stir at breakfast time, an 
 examination showed that four bars at the bottom of 
 the cell door had been sawed off and paper cylinders, 
 blackened with stove polish, inserted in their place. 
 The iron bars Brunette carried to the chapel, to which 
 he made his way. Here he placed a bench on end, 
 with the big pulpit Bible on top of it, to reach the 
 cupola, through which he got on the roof and dropped 
 to the ground. The cell door was cut with a fine 
 file saw, which was carried to him by someone in 
 some way, it is supposed in a bunch of bananas. 
 Brunette is believed to have been driven away by a 
 confederate in a buggy. Every effort is being made 
 to recapture him, but with little hope of success. He 
 is said to be an adept in cunning. 
 
 A storm of indignation and disappointment arose 
 among Kobert's and Lillian's friends when they heard 
 of Brunette's escape. The sheriff was blamed for 
 
BRUNETTE'S ESCAPE 317 
 
 taking him away from the punishment he so richly 
 deserved, and some even hinted that he was pi sym- 
 pathy with the prisoner or had been bribed to conceal 
 him where there would be a means of escape. This, 
 of course, was not true and was probably circulated 
 by some of the masked party to vent their spite upon 
 the sheriff for his doing his duty. 
 
 Lillian could not but feel uneasy at the thought 
 that her enemy was again at large. He who had 
 plotted so often and so successfully could plot and 
 succeed again. She expressed as little of her fear as 
 she could well do, but strict orders were given that 
 no tramp or suspicious person should be allowed 
 within the gates of the Hall, day nor night. Still, 
 the weeks sped rapidly by at the Hall, where all was 
 now happiness and joy. 
 
 ' ' How softly falls the foot of time 
 That only treads on flowers. ' ' 
 
 If ever a thought of Brunette intruded it was as if 
 cloudlets fleck the splendor of the midday sky to 
 temper its bewildering brightness. 
 
 Several months passed. Twas the eve of a perfect 
 summer day. Lillian 's gaze wandered from the book 
 she had been reading to the scene of entrancing beauty 
 spread out before her, and she became dreamy. The 
 hero and heroine of her book had suffered many and 
 cruel wrongs at the hands of their enemies, from 
 which the author had at last extricated them and 
 brought them forth to happiness. She knew if the 
 story of her own eventful life were told it would be 
 as strange as any fiction she had ever read. She was 
 asking herself if her trials were at last over and 
 would the eventide of her life be calm after a morning 
 
318 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 so checkered by sorrow and disappointment. Her 
 guests, with the exception of Captain Harry, had 
 gone for a short trip to Niagara and New York. 
 Robert and Captain Harry had gone for a row on the 
 river. Her friends had wished her and Robert to ac- 
 company them, but the young couple were content to 
 stay at home now after so many vicissitudes. They 
 found their greatest happiness there in each other's 
 society. 
 
 Lillian was aroused from her reverie by the servant 
 appearing with the mail. As she carefully looked 
 over it she was surprised to find a letter of such 
 unusual weight as to require an extra stamp, ad- 
 dressed to herself in a strange hand-writing and bear- 
 ing a strange post-mark. "With a vague wonder of 
 who the writer and what the contents could be, she 
 turned it over and over, and at last opened it. We 
 will leave the reader to judge with what emotions she 
 read the following words: 
 
BRUNETTE'S LETTER 319 
 
 CHAPTER XL VI. 
 
 brunette *s letter. 
 
 Mrs. Robert Nelson. 
 
 Dear Madame: I know not why, but an irresist- 
 ible impulse prompts me to write to you and tell you 
 how much I deplore the part I played in the tragic 
 drama of your life, a part, however, for which I am 
 as little responsible as the actor upon the stage is 
 accountable for the crimes of the character he as- 
 sumes. You will doubtless think this a strange asser- 
 tion, but I know now that for many years I have been, 
 either the veriest madman that ever wandered at 
 large among his fellow-men or the veriest demon that 
 ever possessed a human form. Theologians think the 
 time of demoniacal possession is past. Of that I am 
 not so sure, but if they are right, then for years I 
 have been insane. From the first moment I saw you, 
 a strange infatuation seized me, or did your 
 transcendent beauty cast over me a spell that stole 
 my senses from me! I cannot tell, but I realize that 
 after I knew you I became a changed man. Before 
 I was of a proud, selfish, imperious nature, but I was 
 a man of honor, and so esteemed by those who knew 
 me. I was engaged to my cousin, but I threw aside 
 honor, ambition, pride, independence and everything 
 that could hinder me in the race. If insane, I was 
 a monomaniac, possessed with the one idea of winning 
 you at all hazards and in any way. Your very indif- 
 ference to me made the pursuit after you the more 
 ardent. Other beautiful women had smiled on me, 
 had seemed flattered by my attentions, but to none 
 
320 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 save my cousin had I given more than a passing 
 thought. Sometimes I caught in your eyes an ex- 
 pression of fear, and it maddened me to think you 
 were afraid of me and could not love me. Like Car- 
 men, I sang : 
 
 "Love unfurls his wings above thee 
 
 And a wondrous, wondrous story does declare. 
 Thou lovest me not and yet I love thee, 
 And if I love thee, then beware!" 
 
 I asked you to be my wife and you gently but firmly 
 told me you could never love me. I can see your 
 face now as I saw you that morning, that face of rare 
 and most exquisite loveliness of feature and expres- 
 sion — the face of a perfect woman, with eyes dark 
 and deep and lustrous, but honest as the light of day. 
 In their mystic depths I read my fate and reason 
 must have left her throne. Fever seized me and for 
 weeks threatened my life. When I again became con- 
 scious of my surroundings, I wished I had died. How 
 much better it would have been for you and yours 
 had my life ceased then ! 
 
 But I lived on, with the wild passion burning in 
 my veins. I was jealous of Robert Nelson and I tried 
 to make him believe you were a heartless coquette, 
 using- your bewitching beauty to entrance men's 
 hearts, that you might toss them aside as carelessly as 
 a child throws away a broken toy. I rejoiced when 
 I saw he was afraid of you. Of one thing I shall ever 
 be grateful, that my mania, if such it was, did not 
 make me a murderer. I would not have killed you 
 that night in the hut. I only wanted to frighten you 
 into marrying me, as I felt assured my devoted love 
 must win your love in return. I am an expert marks- 
 
BRUNETTE'S LETTER 321 
 
 man and could have killed your husband in the sum- 
 mer house, but something beyond me kept me from 
 committing the deed, mad with jealousy though I was. 
 After that deed I fled to New York and entered the 
 detective service, that I might become an adept in 
 disguises. I succeeded and won reputation and 
 money. 
 
 Captain Hal McCarthy had known me in former 
 days when I was an honored guest in the best society, 
 and, not knowing me otherwise, believed me when I 
 told him of your husband 's insanity, and readily lent 
 me his aid in my plot to separate your husband from 
 you. I could more easily and safely have drugged 
 and drowned him, but his good angel, perhaps, kept 
 the terrible thought from entering my mind. 
 
 Becoming tired of detective work, I became a jour- 
 nalist, and with the power I possess of giving myself 
 up to anything I undertake, I won success in that 
 role. I chose Queen's Beach as my home, because I 
 loved the sea, with its many attractions and its in- 
 spiration as well, and because it was a quiet place, 
 apart from the world, which I was beginning to hate. 
 There my busy facile pen wove romance, with you as 
 the heroine. How fancy delighted itself in thoughts 
 of you, and when it found expression in words it 
 pleased the public and made me famous. I went into 
 no society. I cared for none until I heard them speak 
 of a French lady of extraordinary beauty and grace 
 of manner. Your praise was on every lip and reached 
 even me, recluse as I was. 
 
 Curiosity led me to wish to see you. I knew you at 
 once, and I found you did not know me. I gloated 
 with fiendish glee over your coming to me and putting 
 yourself in my power. I determined to win you as 
 Reynolds, the journalist, and then reveal my identity 
 
321 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 to you, but a premature discovery blasted my hopes. 
 
 That night when you suspected my identity, when 
 the color suddenly left your cheeks and lips, when 
 the light faded from your eyes and into them crept a 
 wild terror that made you as pallid as death, some- 
 thing that would have been called remorse in other 
 men seized me. For years I had not prayed, but that 
 night I attempted to pray, and the burden of my 
 prayer was: 
 
 ' c Save her from me, at once, her most devoted lover 
 and bitterest enemy; save me from my other cruel 
 self, that knows no mercy.' 9 
 
 The next day I fled, as it were, from myself, but I 
 could not stay away; some power impelled me back 
 to you. I know now that had I been in full possession 
 of my faculties, or had I not been an incarnate fiend, 
 as I sometimes suspect myself to have been, fear of 
 your vengeance would have kept me from you. How 
 did I know you had not informed the officers of the 
 law against me? Instead of thinking of my peril 
 from that source, I decided that, like the great Na- 
 poleon, I was a "Man of Destiny," and that my 
 actions were governed by occult influences over which 
 I nor any person had any control. I need not recall 
 the scene on the cliff. I do not know what kept me 
 from following you over the precipice. It was cer- 
 tainly not because I cared for life after I thought you 
 were dead. I cared for nothing. Reckless, bereft of 
 reason, like one in a dream, I made my way to New 
 York to a friend who, since our college days, had 
 loved me as a brother. I was very sick for months 
 and Charlie watched untiringly at my bedside. Once 
 I overheard the doctor say : 
 
 "It is the worst case of nervous prostration I ever 
 encountered. I'm afraid his mind will go." 
 
BRUNETTE'S LETTER 323 
 
 Then Charlie said, very sadly : 
 "I think he has not been himself for years. Ha 
 loved a lady, and losing her turned his head. 9 9 
 
 Then the doctor gave directions that I must be 
 watched constantly. 
 
 ' ' He is not accountable and might be dangerous. ** 
 
 For months I remained Charlie's patient, watching 
 an opportunity to get away secretly from his sur- 
 veillance. I had spent twelve years of my early life 
 in New Orleans, was educated there, and a desire 
 seized me to go to that city. One day as I stood in 
 the door of our boarding house, someone came up to 
 me and saluted me very cordially as " Judge Allan. " 
 
 That gave me a cue. I asked Charlie about the 
 judge. He said he was a prominent man, and a few 
 days after showed him to me. By consulting my mir- 
 ror I found I could become very much like the famous 
 jurist by donning a professional black suit of peculiar 
 style, a beaver hat and glasses. My hair had turned 
 gray and my face was very thin, almost to emaciation. 
 
 Stealthily I made my arrangements, and one morn- 
 ing stole off while Charlie was asleep, and took the 
 train en route to New Orleans. At Atlanta you 
 boarded the train. I saw your face and your resem- 
 blance to my lost darling awoke again in me a pas- 
 sionate love for you, stranger though you were. I 
 found out you were going to New Orleans, and that 
 you were a Mrs, Devereux. That night, while gazing 
 spell-bound at the carriage that had borne you from 
 my sight, I was knocked down and injured quite seri- 
 ously by an unruly horse attached to a vehicle. In 
 a state of unconsciousness I was carried to a sani- 
 tarium, where I remained for months, getting well 
 and chafing like a chained lion at being kept from 
 
324 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERB 
 
 again seeing you, One day I heard there was to be 
 an excursion on the lake, and I went because I thought 
 you might be there. Imagine my joy on seeing you. 
 Not for one minute did I turn my gaze from you. I 
 feasted my eyes and my heart on your beauty. Later 
 I learned where you were boarding, and the next day 
 secured board at the same place. As long as I could 
 see you, hear your voice, even sometimes get a word 
 or glance from you, I was content, because you cared 
 for no man more than me. I saw and rejoiced in your 
 coldness to those who would have made love to you. 
 But one day Gerald Lemoine came and you were more 
 gracious to him than to any other man, and soon it 
 began to be whispered that you would marry him. 
 Then the very demon of jealousy awoke in me, or the 
 mania — which ? — and I vowed you should never marry 
 him. 
 
 Gerald Lemoine was no stranger to me, though he 
 did not recognize me in my new name and changed 
 as I was in appearance since he had seen me. When 
 I was about twelve years old, my mother married 
 Gerald's father. We boys were both greatly opposed 
 to the marriage. My mother had not consulted me in 
 the matter and I, accustomed to being consulted about 
 almost everything, resented it and vented my spite 
 upon Gerald, a proud, sensitive, reserved boy who 
 felt keenly his dependence upon his wealthy step- 
 mother, who barely tolerated his presence in her home. 
 
 There was constant friction between us boys and I 
 know now I was much more to blame than my com- 
 panion, but my mother always took my part and 
 blamed Gerald. One day after an altercation rather 
 more serious than usual, Gerald left home, vowing 
 never to return, but telling my mother she would yet 
 live to see him as wealthy and even more highly es- 
 
BRUNETTE'S LETTER 325 
 
 teemed than her son. I thought of this and I felt I 
 could never give you up to anyone, much less my 
 hated rival. One day I learned you were going to 
 leave the city suddenly and secretly, and it was 
 thought you were going to New York to make prepara- 
 tions to marry Gerald. I had already made up my 
 mind to hide you from him if it should come to that, 
 so that night I seized you and took you to a place of 
 concealment. I would keep you there till your 
 friends believed you dead, then I would declare my 
 absorbing love for you and offer you freedom if you 
 would marry me. You escaped and I was arrested 
 and put in prison. 
 
 Strangely enough, it did not affect me. It did not 
 even cause me surprise to learn that you were Lillian, 
 and that your husband had returned. I think I was 
 incapable of realizing my dangerous position, for I 
 thought more of the discomforts of my imprisonment 
 than of anything connected with it. Indeed, my mind 
 was in a dazed condition. I was like a man in a 
 dream from which he would fain awake. One morn- 
 ing when I had been imprisoned three weeks, the doo* 
 of my cell was opened and I turned to behold my 
 mother, but so changed even from the last time I had 
 seen her, I hardly recognized her. Her hair was like 
 driven snow and her face had the most agonized 
 expression I have ever known a human countenance to 
 wear. She tottered toward me. At that moment a 
 change came over me, a most unaccountable change. I 
 rushed to meet mother, and she fell in my arms. Clasp- 
 ing her, I began to weep. It has been said lunatics shed 
 no tears. I had shed none for many years, but the 
 fountain of my tears seemed to overflow, and like 
 rain they fell on my mother's bowed white head. 
 From that moment I have been myself again. Can it 
 
326 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 be that the love for a beautiful woman drove me mad 
 and the love for a heart-broken mother restored my 
 reason ? I shall see to it this does not reach you until 
 I am beyond the power of human law. I would not 
 have you think I would hide myself from justice under 
 the plea of insanity. No, indeed; I have made up 
 my mind I will never suffer a public trial. I will 
 never furnish food for the curiosity of a gaping 
 crowd. If I cannot escape from prison, which I hope 
 I can do for my poor mother's sake, I shall take the 
 poison I have carried about me many years in cass 
 of an extremity, and die a suicide, and yet I can 
 assure you so deeply do I deplore the sorrow I have 
 given you, if I could by my death atone for it, I would 
 most willingly give up my life for your sake. But 
 I know the past can never be retrieved. If I escape 
 I shall in a strange land try to leave behind me the 
 past so far as I can and endeavor to make my mother 
 and cousin happy. Now, Mrs. Nelson, with the prayer 
 that heaven's richest blessings may be yours in the 
 future, I am, most truly, Your friend, 
 
 W. B. 
 
 P. S. — You have doubtless learned ere this that I 
 made my escape from prison. Evelyn, who has 
 always been as true as steel to me, brought me the 
 means by which I escaped in her luxuriant dark hair. 
 Tomorrow we will sail for our new home. Evelyn and 
 I will be married as soon as we reach our destination 
 and the one aim of my life shall be to make her and 
 my mother as happy as I can. Now farewell, dear 
 Mrs. Nelson. If ever thoughts of me shall intrude 
 upon your happiness as shadows sometimes cross the 
 disc of the sun, let me beg you to think of me as kindly 
 as you can. As the divine compassionate Master has 
 taught His disciples to pray for their enemies, may I 
 
BRUNETTE'S LETTER 327 
 
 not even ask you to pray for me, that "on the step- 
 ping-stones of my other dead self I may climb to a 
 higher, better life?" W. B. 
 
 Lillian was holding the letter clasped in her hand 
 when Robert came to look for her. Without a word 
 she handed it to him, and watched him as he read it. 
 A frown gathered on his brow at first. Angry glances 
 shot from his eyes and a scornful expression played 
 about his lips ; but as he read on, his eyes grew softer, 
 and when he finished he said, musingly : 
 
 4 'He may have been insane. He must have been, 
 but whether insane or not, we must try to forgive him, 
 love, for if we forgive not men their trespasses, neither 
 will our Father in heaven forgive our trespasses." 
 
 ''Yes, dear," was Lillian's soft, low answer; "and 
 we must pray for him. Love your enemies. Pray 
 for them that despitefully use you. I am glad he 
 escaped. I shall never be afraid of him again." 
 
 Lillian never heard anything more of Walter 
 Brunette, but in the south of France in a pretty, quiet 
 country home lives a family consisting of mother, 
 son, his wife and two beautiful bright children. The 
 old lady has, when alone, a proud, stern expression 
 on her face, which bears many traces of care and sor- 
 row, but when with her loved ones there is a fond 
 bright look that shows content. The husband and 
 father is gray, but is very handsome yet, though there 
 are lines upon his forehead that tell of past shadows. 
 His wife is very pretty and seems very happy, but 
 sometimes she notices a strange, sad, faraway look on 
 her husband's face, then she calls in the children 
 from their play and sends them to "papa." Looking 
 into their innocent faces, listening to their childish 
 
328 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 prattle, feeling their soft, warm arms about his neck 
 as they put up their sweet lips for a kiss, Walter 
 Brunette feels there is yet something in life to live 
 for. 
 
FINALE 
 
 329 
 
 CHAPTER XL VII. 
 
 FINALE. 
 
 Ten years have passed since we last heard from the 
 inmates of the Hall. There have been changes, but 
 they have been happy changes. It is again a lovely 
 summer eve. Robert and Lillian, sitting on the front 
 veranda, watch the children at play in the yard and 
 smile at their innocent pranks. How happy and 
 healthy they look! The oldest, a bright, tall, manly 
 boy of nine years, is named Harry. 
 
 The tenants call Robert the 'Squire and Harry the 
 young 'Squire, and he is very proud of the title. 
 Sometimes as he sits beside Lillian and looks lovingly 
 into her face, he says: 
 
 ' ' Mother, I want to be just like father when I grow 
 up; everybody loves and honors him so. All the 
 tenants say there surely could never have been a bet- 
 ter 'Squire of the Hall than father is," and Lillian 
 strokes his head and tells him he is right to try to 
 follow in his father's footsteps, and in her heart she 
 hopes he wiU be just like his noble father. 
 
 The next child is Helen. She bears the name of the 
 beloved sister, and some think she resembles the por- 
 trait of the fair, frail girl, but the hue of health glows 
 upon the little Helen's cheek and she has even more 
 life and spirit than Harry, who is beginning to think 
 he must assume some dignity as the oldest of the 
 children and as the young 'Squire, too. Helen's 
 merry laugh rings out above the rest as she skillfully 
 eludes the capture by the others who are attempting 
 to ' i catch her." Next comes Robert, a remarkably 
 beautiful boy, who has inherited many of his mother's 
 
330 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 features and especially the sweet expression that 
 added a double charm to Lillian's beauty. He makes 
 a lovely picture, as with long dark curls flying in the 
 breeze, with his cheeks aglow with exercise, he chases 
 " sister,' ' hoping to be the successful captor of the 
 fair maiden. 
 
 Next comes little Alice, a cherub of three, with eyes 
 of deepest blue and a mass of golden tresses that fall 
 in ripples and waves over her shapely shoulders. They 
 wanted to name her Lillian, but her mother pleaded 
 so earnestly for the name of Alice, it was at last given 
 her. The fine, beautiful baby of a year is named 
 ' ' Chastine. " It is needless to say he is the favorite 
 of the Chastine family, and is to them all, as Iva 
 quaintly said, "the loveliest floweret of the lovely 
 cluster. ' ' 
 
 Iva and Jack have been married many years, and 
 as no little one has come to their home, they threaten 
 to steal Chastine as soon as he gets a little larger. 
 
 Gerald and Viola were married at the same time Iva 
 and Jack were. They have three little girls. The 
 youngest, from a real or fancied resemblance to Lil- 
 lian, is named for her. She is, indeed, marvelously 
 lovely. With her small, delicate features, soulful ex- 
 pression and eyes that mirror a pure heart, she bids 
 fair to rival even her namesake's singular beauty, but 
 her parents pray that no Walter Brunette may em- 
 bitter their darling's life. 
 
 There are happy times when all the Chastines come 
 to the Hall for the summer, and grown people and 
 children think the long days too short for the enjoy- 
 ment to be crowded into them. 
 
 If sometimes a thought of the old tradition and the 
 fatality that seemed to confirm it passes through 
 Lillian's mind and casts a shadow upon her heart, 
 
FINALE 331 
 
 she quickly banishes it as base ingratitude to her 
 Heavenly Father, who directs all things by His own 
 wisdom. 
 
 One day one of the oldest women in the neighbor- 
 hood was at the Hall. As she looked upon the bright, 
 healthy children, she said : 
 
 ' ' I am glad your first-born died. ' ' 
 
 Lillian looked at her in great surprise, and the old 
 woman continued : 
 
 ' i It has always been said that if the first-born was 
 a girl, or if the first boy died, it would show that the 
 old 'Squire's spell over his descendants would be 
 broken forever. That is why I said what startled 
 you so. ' ' 
 
 Lillian rallied and said : 
 
 "Mrs. Knox, you are surely too sensible a woman 
 to believe in that absurd tradition." 
 The old lady replied : 
 
 " I do not really believe in it, because it is against 
 religion and reason, but if in your earlier years you 
 are thrown with people who are superstitious, uncon- 
 sciously you imbibe the spirit, and, try as hard as you 
 may, you cannot altogether rid yourself of its in- 
 fluence over you. Indeed, I think everybody has a 
 vein of superstition and cannot help being more or 
 less impressed by it, however they may deny it and 
 reason against it. Do you not notice how every child 
 is interested in stories of a strange, startling nature, 
 stories that take them out of the real into the unreal, 
 where fancy and superstition revel? Grown people 
 love them, too, however much they may decry them . ' ■ 
 
 Lillian could not gainsay this, for she remembered 
 with what interest she had first listened to the old 
 tradition from the lips of one whose acts had cast a 
 much darker and deeper gloom over the Hall than 
 
332 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 any act of the dead ancestor could do, even admitting 
 the story to be true. But she thanks God that the 
 shadows are past and that sunshine and joy now 
 make the Hall such a happy, happy home. But we 
 must leave Lillian in her happiness and return to some 
 of our other friends. 
 
 Captain Harry and Vivian live at Cuckoo's Nest. 
 The old Captain died very suddenly of apoplexy five 
 years ago and Dr. Graham a year later. When a year 
 of mourning had gone by, Vivian made Captain Harry 
 very happy by becoming his wife. The * ' Nest' 9 had 
 been made into a very lovely home for his sw r eet bird. 
 It is known now how Walter Brunette managed to 
 conceal himself so effectively from his pursuers. 
 There was a secret room in the house of which, be- 
 fore Mrs. Brunette's time, no one except the im- 
 mediate members of the family knew. It became 
 necessary to let Joe Dawson and his mother into the 
 secret, as their assistance was needed to screen Walter 
 from those who would have brought him to justice. 
 They were told the secret after they had given a most 
 solemn promise never to betray it which promise 
 they kept, even after Captain Harry became owner 
 of the place. 
 
 The room was said to have been built in the house 
 at the time of its erection as a vault for family plate 
 and jewels of great value, which were heirlooms. In 
 this room Walter Brunette found refuge after every 
 flagrant act against Lillian, and sometimes he w r ould 
 come secretly and in disguise to his former home 
 after a prolonged absence, and remain there for weeks 
 without his presence being known to anyone but his 
 mother, his cousin, Mrs. Dawson and joe, and when 
 he became tired of his confinement, some dark night 
 Joe would row him down the river, wdth muffled oars, 
 
FINALE 
 
 333 
 
 to some place from which he could safely escape. The 
 room was discovered when Captain Harry was having 
 the house remodeled. It contained a narrow bed, an 
 easy chair, a very costly hanging lamp and a small 
 table, upon which were books of the choicest poets, a 
 stand of fine cigars and several vases full of dead 
 flowers. On the walls were a few pictures, gems of 
 art. One of them was an exquisite picture in oil of 
 Lillian. 
 
 Walter Brunette had sought out the artist who 
 had painted Lillian's portrait just before her uncle's 
 death, and had induced him to paint a copy of the one 
 in his possession by paying him a very large price for 
 it. It was a faithful reproduction. Captain Harry 
 put it in the art gallery and he and his wife esteem 
 it one of their greatest treasures. Captain Harry 
 kept Joe and his mother, because he said they were 
 so faithful to their former employer's interests he 
 did not doubt they would be equally true to his, and 
 they are. Old Mrs. Dawson dearly loves Captain 
 Harry and his wife, and is so proud of little Robert, 
 their two-year-old son, there is great danger of her 
 spoiling him. His golden curls are like gleams of - 
 sunshine to her, and his baby prattle the sweetest 
 music in the world. 
 
 Paul Graham lives at his father's old place now. 
 He and Maude's husband practice together and are 
 very popular physicians. There is a houseful of 
 children at Moss Side, between whom and the children 
 at the Hall there is the greatest and fondest intimacy. 
 Scarcely a day elapses between their visits. Randolph 
 Hall, Moss Side and Cuckoo's Nest, whose histories 
 have been so strangely interwoven, are still, as at the 
 beginning of our story, three of the finest country- 
 
334 
 
 LILLIAN DeVERE 
 
 seats in the state, and their owners and families among, 
 the most highly esteemed. 
 
 Randolph Hall is, perhaps, the most noted on ac- 
 count of the extraordinary beauty and sweet attrac- 
 tiveness of its mistress, Avhom all know but to love. 
 Lillian is still a favorite with time, which has added 
 rather than detracted from her charms. All her 
 friends would doubtless agree with Robert, who says, 
 "As a maiden, she was beautiful ; as a wife, more 
 beautiful ; as a w 7 if e and mother combined, most beau- 
 tiful." 
 
 She, crowned with the diadem of pure womanhood, 
 cares not for the admiration nor adulation of the out- 
 side world, but finds her greatest joy in the love of 
 her husband and children, and esteems no honor 
 greater than to be the beloved mistress of Randolph 
 Hall. 
 
 Now bright and pure and beautiful 
 The gleams of sunshine fall, 
 And with their rays of splendor 
 Light up the grand old Hall; 
 Upon the turret's loftiest height, 
 Where swings the deep-toned bell; 
 Upon the river's sparkling leaves 
 They sport and dance and dwell. 
 
 And did they never smile on earth 
 'T would be a moonless even, 
 For life, indeed, were all unblessed, 
 If hope came not from heaven.