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LADY EVELYN;
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THE LORD OF RJYAL REST.
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CHAPTER L
VOHD RODKBIO.
The 8«pt«inV>er sun was setting stormily,
down there on tlio VVi.-k low coast. Far off,
11)6 purple mountains were fast losing them-
•clv.H in the double darkness of coiniiiff
night and stortn. Nuar<r, over moor and
nKu.lt. w, the low-lyiiiitskv l.rooded darkly,
and th.i rieing winil sighed fitfully, sweeping
up from the Irish nea. Westward, lurid
burs of blood red showed where the fiery
sun had gone down, a d the hlack uIoudn-
rack came rapidly trooping up, likes fleet
of mis shapen piratical crafts, over the blue
of the evening sky. Black and angry heav-
ed 'hf sea, under that ominous canopy, and
the wiiitecappe I surf crashed already on
the Bhing.y shore with the dull roar of a
beaHt of prpy.
A lonely scene that hoar. Away to*the
east, thi! fishing village of Clontarf nestled
under the rocks ; to the left, the tail Tudor
tnrrfta and pnaked gables, rising above the
trees of the park. Clontarf Castle reared it
hoary head— one of the stateliest and oldest
houses in Britain. Curlews and sea fowl
screamed and whirled away in dizzy circles
over the black waters ; high and (fry were
drawn Up the fishermen's fleet, and the only
moving thing on darkened earth and storm-
tossed sea were a trirl and a yacht.
The girl— to begin with the lady— stood
on .1 lofty boulder, gazing seaward, ' ag|||ing
a picture of herself, outli'ed against the
b!a.:kening gloaming— a brightly pretty girl,
very fair, very youthful, with a thoroighly
Iri"! face— (.yes as blue as her Wicklow
skies, and as sunlit ; cheeks like radiant
June roses ; hair, thick, rich, abundant, of
the truest golden-brown ; a low brow, and
11 month like a veritib e rosebud. A face
i.r an aitisi, a oiu.i^ for a pie-ilapnoeiite,
aanding there, in vivid relief against black
sky aad dark sea, *ud the browrn- hair and
pii'tiiresque read oloak streamiuft in th* ritf*
iiig wind.
The yacht lay a mil* away, ria ng and
falli.ig in the ground-swell— t'.e tnmr.iMt
little craft imaginable—a picture in its way
as well as the girl— all wliit.i and green—
—an emerald Iwnner *ith the sunburst ol
oI(l Irelaiid(wlieii the iirestisleof all island*
1 had a flag) flapping from its roaxt-head. In
golden letters on the stern waa the nume.
'NnraCreii.a.'
The girl looked impatiently at .he darken-
iiiii skv, at the heaving vessel, then glanced
behind her with a little, petulant frown.
•How long he is !' she said, tearing np
the tall seanioBs by the roots, in girlish im-
patience. ' They expected Mr. Gerald »hi«
evcninj;, but I don't see why that rhould
keep him ! Ah I'
She stoppe 1 suddenly, her pretty, sun-
browned face brighteiiine, for a boat waa
lowered from the Nora Creina, and two men
rowed rapidly shoreward.
'He will oomo, then, after all !' shecrisd,
m a joyful, breathless sort of way, a ros*
flush of intense delight glowing through ths
golilen tan of her fair skin.
Thj't tell-Ule little pronoun I The old.
old story, you see, to begin with. The pntty
peasant-girl w.-vite<l there in the twilight for
the rising of her 'lay god— the coming o.' her
lover.
A step came rapidly down the rockv path
—a step light and fleet— and a ridi. me-
lodious vo ce rang down the stilluess, singing
a ringing hniiting song.
The girl started nervously, reddening to
the roots, of her fair brown hair ; but she
turned half away, and drew closer to the tall
shelter of the rock. She waited for herdail-
ing. but she was too thoroughly a woman to
let his mightiness know that.
' A southerly wiud and a dosdy akv
'liaim It a hunting morninc;
full, rich voice ; and then the singer cams
into view, with fhe light st -■») of a stay, ovsr
cl; acted the
LADY iSVELYN.
the houldc a, and Rtood balancini; himoelf in
mid-air, on iIk; topinrst pvak of a lofty crag,
twenty feet over the water.
He was a tall young man — ray. youth, of
tcarce oiie-aiid-tweiity, ' a six-foot son of
Anak,' lithe and long of limb, straight as an
arrow, hroad-shoiildered, deep-chestod,
golden-haired, and azure-eyed. A magni-
ficent young giant — the wihlest dare-
devil in tlie three king<lom», with
the face of an A*rchangel Raphael —
a mad- headed, hot-brained, reckles-s, young
ne'er-do-well, who yet looked at you with
eyes u» blue and sniilint; and innocent as the
eyes of a month-old babe. IIo was dressed
in the cfjlours of his Hrstand only love — the
idol of his heart — his graceful Nora Creina,
there aHoat on the waters — white trowsers,
green jacket, green cap with a gold band set
jauntily on his handsome golden head. He
stood poised on t\\^ dizzy peak, looking sea-
ward, with brilliant, eiuinlloss blue eyes.
' riiero you are, my Injauty, my darlinr^ \'
he cried, apostrophizing the trim little har-
f|ue, 'and if I don't give you a spanking run
in the teeth ot this gale before morning, I'm
not my fatlicr's son. We'll m.ik<! King's
Head in four hours with this still" breeze — a
glorious race belore midniglit. my dariing
Nora I
' " Oh, my Nora Creina, dea'-.
My charming, bashful, Nora Creina 1
Beanty lies in many eyes,
But love in yours, my Nora Creina 1" '
Ho sang gaily, his voice floating out on the
breeze to the boat dancing like the cookle-
sh U it was over the bri akeru, and answered
by the men on board with a hearty Irish
chei-r.
'Lord Rory !'
He had turned to leap down — agile as a
cat, never seeing the red cloak and pretty
face 80 neai' hiin — wlieii the girl starting up,
called, and as he turned with a bewildered
' Hallo !' called again :
'Lord Ru.lericI'
' 'Fore (Jeorge, it's Kathl en !' He was
beside her with a bound. 'Standing here
like a Wicklow fai y, or a banshee, or a
grddnss of the storm, or anything else you
like. Come to set me olT, Kathleen? How
polite of y< u !'
Kathleen tos.sed her pretty head sancily.
She had come to see him otF, and coloured
guiltily as he guessed i'.
' Yon always were conceited. Lord Rory,
and always will bo. As if one could not
come down o watch the storm ri«e, without
coming on your account?'
'Watch the storm liie? By Jove! how
romantic the dear litt'e girl's getting I Ha»
quite a Byronio sound, that, 'pon my word,
and comes of improving her niind, uixler my
tuition, as she's oeen doing larely. '
He looked a dangerous preceptor for youth,
this fair-haired King Olaf, with his laughing
eyes and splendid tace ; and the red lighl
fianhed gloriously up in the pretty, iunbura>
ed ohceks, under his merry gaze.
' So you'ifi going to King's Heail to-niehk,
my lord, ' Kathleen said, making a petulant
little mouth. 'Well, I dire say you'll be
safe in spite of the stor.n. Any one born to
be hanged — you know the pruverb.'
' " Hanged will never bo drowned." Very
likely, Miss O'Neal. I won't be the first
Desmonil wlic has been hanged for his coun-
try's benefit either, by long odds. Weal-
ways do come to grief as a rule, and I don't
think half a dozen of us ever died decently
in our beils. We've been pink ;d in the
" Fhaynix." we've had our h^'adsset up to
ornami.'nt Tower Hill, we've been toasted
alive in our own stroiighohls, we'v«j been
ciurt-martialed and shot at day-dawn, we've
hail our heads chopp.>d ofl like sp'ing chick-
ens, for high treason. I never heani of but
one Desmond who was drowmil, and he was
a pirat<', cursed with " bf ook ami can-
dle, " so could expect no b«. .. Yes .Vuss
Kathleen O'Neal, I'm otf lor Kinjr'a Head in
my bonny N>ira Creina, and I'll Uke yon
with me, if yon choose, with all the pleasure
m lite.'
' Thank yon, Lord Rory! I'm not tired
of my life vet. When I leel like suicide,
I'll 1 t you know. There's the hoat. Good-
evening to you — I'm going home.'
'♦" My boat is on the shore, .and my barque
is on the sea." And so you won't com^?
Well, then, I woulil recommend you to cro
luime, for stani'iing here in the wind is neith-
er p easant nor profitable th.\t I can see,
(Jo d nii'lit, Kathleen ! If quite convenient,
dreinn of uie. Oh, I say, how's the English-
man ?'
The girl turned upon him sudlonly, her
face reildening, her eyes Hashing passionate-
ly in the half light.
' Lord Rory,' she crieil.
He laughed, bounding like achamoin down
tbe'lleep crags.
'Then you won't smile on your Invert
Poor fellow, how I pity him ! My own heart
has been broken so often, yf;U see, Kathleen,
that I can nfl'ord to sympathize with fellow
martyrs. Any messages for King's Head?
No ? Tlien, for the second time, good night 1'
He waved Ins gold-banded cap courteouply
in gay sainie, tiiia i)oyisii Lord Rodenc
Desmond, oul^ son of the Ejtrl of CloDtarf,
i
\.'
! getting I Hu
'poll my word,
Miini), niider my
larely.'
ccptor for youth,
ith his langhing
111 the red light
iretty, aunbiirn*
B Head to-niffht,
»kiiig a petulant
e nay you'll be
Any one born t*
r<iverb, '
Irowned." Very
n't be the first
g«n for his coim-
; odds. We al-
nle, and I don't
;r died decently
pink ;d in ttie
r h''ad« set up to
e been i oasted
•Is, we'vt been
lay-dawn, we've
ke sp'iii^ chick-
I'er heani of but
''"il, and lie was
•ook and oaii-
Yes \'ia8
r King's Hoa<l in
id I'll take you
I all the pleasure
! I'm not tired
el like suii-ide,
the lioat. Good-
loiiie.'
•. and my barque
DU won't cornr;?
mend you to eo
he wind is .-^eith-
that I can Bee.
luite convenient,
iw'b the Euglish-
1 and'! only, her
jbing passionate*
) a chamoin down
on your lover t
! My own heart
U 8ie, Kathleen,
liizo with follow
r Kiiin's Head?
line, good night I'
il cup courtet.uoly
ii Lord Rotieric
!)arlof Clontarf,
uAUi aMiutn.
«nd went springing down to the shore, sing
ing again.
' Twas from Kathleen's eyes he flow-
Eyes of most unholy blue. ,
But for the Kathleen standing on the
rocks, she was forgotten ere the paasioiiate,
yearning blue eyes were fairly out of sight.
He sprang into the boat, the men puslud
off. and it went dancing li^jitly over the
billows. The girl thiank away behind the
tall boulder, lost to hin view in the gatluTing
darkness, but watching him and his fairy
craft with impaseioned eyes, tli.\t toM their
own story of woman's deepest bliss and .lead-
lieat pain— love.
/\^mI tlien fiiatance and darkness took him,
sud Kathleen hid her hot face in Iier liaiujsi
loving, and knowing slie loved, as vainly and
Wildly as that other Kathleen, whose • un-
holy bine eyes ' Moore Ringn, hurled into the
lake ny flinty-hearted Saint Kevin,
V.vjnlv, indeed ' for she was only the
daughter of the village pedagogue, and he—
sh ! the bine blood of the piiiicely Desmonds
—Kings of old— flowed in Ins veins, and an
earl's coronet awaited him in the future
Night had fallen— black, starless, M'ild.
The Trowning coast had vanished; they
were far out on the temppst-lashed ocean,
tlie wind rushing by with a roar, a <k)rk and
fiery abyss of waters heaving around them.
Anil through the nigfit and the stoim the
«allant litth; Nora Creina shot ahead like an
arrow, and on her deck, his k'old hair stream-
ing in the salt blast. Lord Roderio Desmond
stood, scanning the stormy blackuess with a
powerful night-glass.
Far oflf— a luminous spe ka ainst the dead
darkness— »(miething bright, like a falling
•lar. glimmered and glowed. His men were
githered arouml him ; they needed no glass
to see that one luminous ray.
' By heavens !' he cried, closing his telo-
•copa with a cla^s, ' it's a ship on fii-e I'
And then his rich voice rang out above the
upoarof the storm, the wind and the sea, '
giving his oiders to boar down to the relief '
of the burning ship,
^ Away as a deisr flies from the hounds— the
»ora Creina flew over the foam-lashed l.il.
lows I Nearer and nearer they drew to that
bnlliant ray— that terrible bon-fire on the
ocean I Larger and larger it h^med up l)e-
lore them— a pillar of fire— in tlie storm-
Ushed sea.
And as they nearcd it — so close fha* k"t - I
lew yards divide.! them— they could see on j
Uie burning deok two figures— a man and a '
wonuo.
\\e must lower the bo.t %t once, and if
the boat <loe8 not go down like an egirshell
tlien a miracle will have taken pace, 'Lord
Ko<lcric said. • Lower away, my lads : there
IS not a second to be lost.'
And as his words rang out, wild and iiigh
I above the uproar, tiiere came, piercingly, a
I Woman's scream of d stress.
It seemed surely .leath, but even unto
death these men would have followed their
gallant young lead<r. Aid a Desmond
never knew fear, and Death and Lord Rod-
eric had stood face to face many a time
alie.yly in his brief one-and-twenty years.
Was In- going to shirk it now, "and a, wo-
man perishing before his eyes? His wild
cheer, clear as a bugle blast, echoed cheerily
as he sprang into his frail skifT.
'You .vill come with me, Fitzgerald,' he
said. • No, my lads ; any more of you would
on V be in the way. Now then pull with *
will.
And the fairy bark sped away over tho
foamy breakers as thoiigii upheld by fairy
hands. The ' Luck of the Desmonds, ' tradi-
tionary all the conntry-sidf over, was with
them in their da.ntless daring to-nigiit.
' Leap into the sea V tlioae on board the
yacht heard Lord Roderic cry; ' we will
pick you up. We can go no u-arer.'
The man on the deck of the burning vessel
seized the woman in his arms, and ore the
words wero well uttered, leaped overboard
into the ' 'ick bitter waters. The flaming
fihij lit the Btorni-lashed ocean for varda
around.
They 8 ink— they rose. Fitzgerald bent to
the oars, and sent the light skill' shooting to
where their white faces gleamed above th«
hissing waves. Lord Roderick bent over
and laid hold of the woman's long, streainiuB
hair. "
Breathless the watchers on board th«
yacht gazeil. There was moment of inex-
pressilile peril and suspense; then tho
woman was lifted in the stalwart young arnu
of Lord Clonterfs son, and laid in the bofe-
torn of the boat.
But that noment was fatal. The whit*
face of the man vanished, as a huge wave
dashed him brutally into its depths. Over
the wild, midnight sea, one last, agonized
cry rang out :
'Oh, God I save me I save my Inez I'
' Ii-«ck to the yacht, Fitzgerkld— back, for
our lives I' Lord Roderic shouted, 'The
man has perished I Back I Give me the
oats 1
.... .,,t,rr Thjit, sjrgca ov tnosa itrous
skille.1 rowers shot back to the Nor» Creina,
•« if invisible hands guided it through Uie
temoestiions sea
.-'i'l
LADY KVKI.YN.
They reached tlie yacht, and a great shout
of joy and thanktulnega arose as the youiij;
b«roes pasKed up the rescued uonian, and
caitiu oil boiinl.
The Inirniiig ship blazed nt-adily to the
water's ed>{»i, tlien went headlong down, and
an awful IdacknesH reigned.
Of all her living crew, only this one woman
remained to tell the tale.
She lay on the deck where tliey had
fdacf'd her— still aa one dead. Lord Roderic
iftfd her in li>a arnm, •.an ied her into the
lamp lit cabin, and laid iier on a couch.
.Sle waa drippi-ig wet, mimI tier hair, long
as a inerniaidV, cluii;: nlioiit lier ; her eves
were closed ; the t cu was niuible wliite.
Cold and still she lay there liefore him in a
dead bwo if.
Ami tiieyoiiTig Lord R ideric stnod above
her, a brandyllasl; in Ina hand, g:izing
down on that wiiit.-, still lace. For, in all
theone-and-twenty years of his briglit. brief
life, Kari Clontarf's only son had never '
looked on anything half so lovelv as thii
aukaown girl he had saved from deatlk i
CHAPTER IL
OKRALD DKSMOND.
Sunset hour again, low there on the pic-
turesque Wicklow coast. An Oeto' er sun-
set — cloudless and brilliant. An oriflanime
of splendour, of golden, and ciimson, and
purple, a royal canopy for the King of Day,
nUed all the west with indescribiMe glory.
And once asrain, all a'oiie, on the wild an i
and solitary shore, Kathleen O'Neal stood,
looking over the boundless sea at that crini-
•oh glory in the sky.
The soft, abundant brown hnir hungloose,
and fluttered in the light evening wind. In
and out of the red glow on the sea the fish-
ing-boats glanced. Far away white sails
•hone ill the ofliiig, and rising and falling
airily in its sheltered cove, the Nora Creiua
lay at anchor.
Kathlteii looked at none of these things.
8hc had suiTk down on a beil of sea-mr'ss,
half-lying, half-sitting, one round, white arm
thrown iipoveraiall rock, her head lying
wearily on th.it arm.
The great, soft blue eyes, so brilliant, so
Joyous i-ix weeks before, looked blankly
over the ocean, with a dull and d.eamy lone-
liness, inexproskiblv Had to see ; the pretty,
' ■ ■ "" 1)1
l)Ioom,
piquant face had lost all its bright
Its clad, pay smiles and dimples.
She lay there listless'y and forlornly
enon!.'h, p.ale .a.-, ihr. ai;rf "V.r^tikin^ -^^n the
sands belnw. Only six weeks since that
lurid sunset, when she had waited impa-
tiently here for her lover, with a heart ai
bright and as light as a bird's, ^ovi sh«
sat haggard and pale, we.iry and hopeleMS,
for insix briei weeks the light had faded
from pretty Kathleen's life, and her lover
Wis as utterly and entirely lost to her at
though the an cry waves of that stormy
night had swept over his golden head
forever.
Her lover 1 Yes, hers, by the raeinury
of a lhou^alld words, of a thoutand hjvinjj
smiles, of a thousand tender kii^ses, of w Iks,
ami ta ks, and sails, and presents, and loiks,
and whispers.
Only boy and-girl ove, perhaps, but verjr
8 weft and ch rming to them both, until
now— and now the boy-lord had forgotten
Ilia low-bom love as comp'etely as though
she had never existed, ana the girl waa
breaking lier heart over it, as girls have dune
from tinie immemorial.
' Will she ever love him as I have done J'
Kathleen thought, her heart full of h.ipe-
less, bitter pain, 'half so dearly as I have
done? And he did love me a little, before
she came between us I Oh, Mother of «id,
keep my soul from the sinful wisn th.it the
black waves had swallowed her that night I'
A step came down the shingly strand, a
man's step, but the girl never stirred. It
was not /lis ; what then did it matter if
all the world passed before her? All would
still be desolation, and he wero not there.
•Give you good -even, my pr.^tty Kath-
leen!' said a soft, low voice, that Kathleen
knew well, and a whiflf of scented cigar-
smnke puffed on her face. ' On my life, von
make a very charming pictcie, my dear. I
never wished I were an artist uutil this mo-
ment. Come here to see the sun go down,
ch ?— well 1' with a lazy sigh, ' neat thing in
the way of sunsets, toa How's the dear
old <lad ?'
Kathleen rose up with a bound, flushing
ro y red, and dropping an embarrassed little
courtesy. A tall man man stood l>efore lier
—a gentlemanly looking personiige.of thirty
or thereabouts, well dressed, well looking-1
with a shatlowy resemblance in his light blue
eyes and fair hair to the golden -haired,
azure-eyed dailiiig of her heart. He was
not one hundredth part no handsome, but he
vaguely res.inbled I>ord Roderic Desmond,
and was that young lordling's thiid cousin—
the pennici^s sou of a penniless y* nnger
brother, a barnster-at-law, of Lincoln's Inn,
London.
Fie looked mnch more like in Englishman
thnn an Irish Desmond, with his carefully.
Iniincd siuc-wiiiskcrs, his blow, languid
voice, and his nff ctation of utter indiffdieuM
to all things under the sun.
i
t
LADY EVELYN.
itli a heart &i
id's. Noti' she
and hopcii'HS,
i;ht had faded
and lier lover
lost to her at
! that aturniy
I golden head
r the memory
liuui'and lnving
\.\f:W.», of u' Iks,
silts, and lo'>ks,
haps, but very
II both, until
had forgotten
ely as though
the girl was
girls have done
I have done T'
fidl of hiipe>
.rly as I have
a little, bffore
lother of i)d,
wisn that the
iT that niKht I'
igly strand, a
ur stirred. It
it inatt«:r if
r? All woald
* not there,
prrtty Kath-
hat Kathleen
icented cigar-
'11 my life, voo
-', tny dear. I
uutil this mo-
sun go down,
* neat tliiuK in
ow's the dear
oiind, flushing
larrasaed little
ood Itefore her
natfc.of tliirty
well looking —
I his light bill*
Ejoldeii- haired,
irt. He was
•Isome, but he
M'ic Desmond,
tliiid couaiii—
iifRS yfunger
Lincoln's Tun,
in Englisliman
his carefully-
»iow, ianguid
«r indifTdi-euoe
• Gerald I' Kathleen cried, ' yoa here 1 I
didn't know— I thoueht you wert— '
' At home, as I slioiild be very likely. But
hard work all auniincr has used me up. ai)d
I've taken a run orer to Clontarf to freshen
for the auturan and winter campagn. "Men
must work and voinen must weep," and
they avail themselves of their prerogative,
the dear, moist creatures, to the ful' I must
■ay, equally at weddincs and <'i' You
don't know the song of the " 1).'; ;shers,"
I dare B;iy, Kathleen, but yrt iO' k as
though you had gone in f"r the v-epina
busin' ss y()«rRe}f, of late. Six weeks iign I
■aw you as blooming as one of your own
Irish roses ; now, a belU- ••f wasons coubl
hardly look more chalky and Imegard th;in
my wild, fresh Wicklow rosebini. Th it
spi'edy consumption, Kathie, or a lutre fatal
dis'-ase — crossed in love ?'
He took the cigar from between his lips
and l)ent toward her, a keenly knowing look
ill his small, liglit-blne eyes.
He and little Kathleeu knew each other
well — from the days when he, a tall, hob-
bUdehoy of sixteen, had been ' coac!>ed ' by
old O'Neal, a decayed gentleman and a
tlx'i'fjiiL'h I'laHsical scholar, and had romped
with the prettiest four-year-old fairy in tha
country.
Old O'Neal had l)een prond of his clever
pnpil, and Gerald Desmond, who wap always
nnxUgal of those fine words which cost so
little nnd butter so delicionsly the parsnips
of society, was a regular visitor at the cot-
tage of his old preceptor during his flying
visits to Clontarf.
He had seen Rory and Kathleen together
more times than he could count, and he had
pulled bisl ng, blonde whiskers, and smiled
sardonically at Rory's boyish devotion and
Kathleen's innocent blushes.
' Quite a chapter out of Arcadia, really,'
he said, with his cynical sneer ; for ho had
been a cynic before he left off roumlabouts.
' Paul and Virginia — the Baliesof the Wood
— anything innocent and turtle-dove like
you please ! My dear.artless Rory, and my
pretty, blushing Kathleen I as guileless as a
pair of newly-fledged goslings I Kow re-
freshing it is to know that such sweet sim-
p'icitv yet reigns on this big, wicked
eaith!'
And Mr. Gerald, in his hard, old preco-
city — a man ' mad-about-town' at-t^vo-and
twenty, with all the knowledge of a wicked
old age— chatted his lordly cnusin,and caused
that ingenious youth to blush nearly as
sii'.ch as little K-athl^en hen«df. half in bny.
ish shame, half in honest indignation.
' It's quite a pastoral, the " Loves of
Bory and Katbleea. " I think I'll turn poe-
taster " id wrife it ont. and beat the " Venca
and Adunis" all to sticks. Uow's it goingto
end, Rory, my lad 7' Is it to be the gush-
ing legend of Lord Burleigh and his Ellen
over again, and is artless Kathleen, the
village school-master's daughter, to grace a
coronet? Or will it be, "Oh, weep For the
hour when to Eveleen's bower the Lord of
the Valley with false vows came?" Uey,
my Wicklow Apolo V
And t > all of which Mr. Gerald nerer got
any more explicit answer than a modest
bUish and an indignant ' Oh, hang it, Ger I
none of your nagging ! Let a fellow alone,
can't you 1'
He bent over Kathleen now, and saw the
red blood rising to the low, fair brow, and
the hot mist that tilled the soft, blue eyes.
' Rory hasn't been to the cottage for the
past six weeks. I dare swear,' he said, care-
lessly : ' he is taken up by night and by day,
sleeping and waking, )H>dy and soul, with
that dark-eyed donna from old Castile.
Seen her yet, Kathleen?'
He could see the tempestuous heaving of
Kathleen's breast, the passionate ciouu of
jealousy that darkened her whole fair face.
' Yes, I have seen her — again, and again,
and again !'
' And sluj is beautiful as one's dreams of
the angels, oh ? Not that I ever dream of
these celestial messengers myself ; and I
don'tsuppose they lave big, blank eyes, and
a shower of midnight tresses down to their
waists, if one did see them. But she is love-
ly as a houri from Stamlioul, and— you bate
her as Old Nick hates holy water !'
'Mr. Gerald 1 I?'
'You, Kathleen— for this reason: Rofy
has gone mad for her I Ah, what an impetu-
ous hot-heatled, reckless, hair-brained fellow
tliat is ! On my word it takee my breath
away only to think of him. And impeta*
osity is so very pronounced, anil in such ex-
cessively bad style I But he is madly in
love, and really the Senorita d'Alvarez is
very well wortn loving — KUpposing anything
is worth getti' g the steam up to such a pitch
here below. She's a royal beauty ; she's the
heiress of a millionaire, witli shares and
bpn<ls, and consols, and coupons, and castles
in Spain, and bank stock in England. Only
it woulo be such an infiuite deal of trouble,
I would fail ic love with her and marry her
myself.'
'I wish yon would,' Kathleen said, be-
tween her clenched, pearly teeth, ' Why
did she ever leave Spain ? Why did she
e'er c^nie— '
' Here — between you and Rory ? Ah J
why, indeed I Yon see, Ka»hif, the Don
married au English woman, rich beyond aU
.y-.
\\
LADY BVELYN.
t4.llin«. Rnd beautiful M-her (laughter.
Donn5 Inez 1.08 Hpent her whole Me .n a
8paSl> convent, in Vala.lana I beheve. and
rC Vc.lro and hi» K..«lish .lonna went in
or h gh life in our modern Van.ty l-a,r--
Pnris Then tl>e Knt'liBh lady dies and the
sJuuBh papa w«x. h.nely. goes to the con-
ve i clain.» hi. daughter, and starU w th
her for E..«lan.l, to pri-iPi.t her to her Kng-
lish reh t vcH l.y the distaff aide, and- the
.h ipScl es fire, off the Irish coast, an.l t,.e
crew taUe to the boats, and the two passen-
Trs aSlorgotten in the hubbub, and Ma«ter
llorv and his yacht arrive in the n.ck of
S to bear ir the ahr.cking beauty from
c devouring Han.es a moder,. St George
and the D. agon. What a scene it wou d
make for the Ix.ar.lsof the I'nnc.ss' or Porte
S Martin 1 How the pit and the galler.ea
would applaud 1 You've not read many
novels iu yur lifetiune. i.iy Kathleen,
andvm're all the better for it ; but .f yru
had you wouldn't need me tell you the
iemurto tins delightful romance. The
c« la in invariably falls, after a score or two
ofsucll tren.eudous sensations, on the crowu-
incfollv of man— marriaBel
•Ma.riaL'e I" Cathleen icpeated, her orcath
conii.ig short and quick-' man. age, Mr.
g3 ! ^Vill Lord ll..leric marr ■ her ?
•1 h nk it extremely likely. Ah I sa.d,
he is in a state of utter i.nbec.hly «»"•" '^^
and she— well, th.se impassioned, tall, blacH
eJed dark.skiui.ed. fiery-blooded Southrons
S e erally the very devil to love or hate.
AinfRory'. thews and sinew., h.s s.x-foot of
X7°l'i» yellow locks and ins b li.o eyes
have made their mark already. 1 he hut s
S^d-looking. aa you know Kathleen am ,
bonna De Castilla is suscept.bl.-. In spite ]
Kam'8 recent .loath, and her trailing crape
aKbles. she looks graciously already ou
the hti^r; Karl of felonUrf. Yea. Miss
O-Neal I think 1 will be called upon to draw
UD the marringe aettlement. f<.i my lord y
cousin befeie the world waga twelve montha
^"siiTwas tearing up the turf with a fierce
■oppressed excitement that must fi'»l v«"J
loniebow. Gerald Desmond glanced at l.cr
"""^And if I were you. Kathleen. I would
Uke the initiative. 1 would marry Morgan
out of band.'
Shi"*' turned upon him. her pale cheek,
flashing i., the twilight. ^.^^^^ c^,,i^_p^,,.
He'll make a lady ol yo«' "^ * ^'^^ ,?f ^
small scale, an.l no cue "eel «ver »PP»y ^
you that nasty little w<.rd-j Ited I
^ 'Gerald Desmond I How dare yon »
Gerald Desmond shrugged hi. .hoalder.
and omiled. He rarely laugl'^J.
• Coming the tragic muse, eh ? Pray rt on i
cxcitej-mLlf. my .lear I'"' ^f "'8 >£ '
fatter to you. 1 met Morgan down then,
beyaut as they say here, and he begged mo
most p toously tojput in a good ^ordfor h.m.
You've lost L.)rd Aoderic. you s.*.»ud J g'^«
vou mv word. Kathleen, I thought at one
time his it le flirtation would have ended
seriousW Bat he ha. gone down beyond
ZvlVlore the Spanish ey,e. of the Cas^. -n
b,.iutv. and your cake'a dough Many
Morgan, like a good girl. »ud live happy
'^'shroruSrhed a hamful of gia... and
flung it passionately over the rooks.
•1 would die ten thousand death.-l
would jump into the sea yonder^ »>efore I
^vould marry Morgan 1 I »'»»«,>->■"» ^^,
■ p„c.r fellow !• said Morgan's lutercewor,
plaintively ; ' but you'll ma> ry 8ome on«.
some time, you know, Kathleen. It ^ wo-
r^Sdestinv-theend and aim of ber whole
^'^Vsl'lT re; marry.' her voice choked «
she said it. and she turned away. /I wiU
ffo to my grave what I am to-mpht,
i«".M./dear little gushing ^**5''^,"A,T
Oeral.l Desmond absolutely laughed a little,
so amused wa« he-' -ni 1'- *-J.; 1^ J»»
maid." as the old song says, for Rorv ssweel
sake. Don't .10 it. Kathleen. Go up tO
Clontarf and forbid the bann..
< What do you mean T _, , . __
• Why this, little one : The donna " •• .
proud as the deuce-all theee ugh-and-
' mighty Spanish U*uties are-an.l as jeaU
8 a. the devil I Go up to the castle, insist
on an interview, tell her Rory ..your., not
hers that your claim to Inm 18 beyond d«.
mite"; so it^ia, you know-he ha. been court-
F„K j^u ever since he was three feet high,
TeVher he loves you still «"«i '^^'y fj*
her tioubloons. By Jove 1 Kathleen, shell
drop him like a hot poUto 1
' Mr. Gerald I' .
Tue amazement, the indignation, the
Bupeib hauteur with which KatTileeu regard-
ed him, 18 utterly beyond .b'scnption. Slie
iod drawn up to her full heig'.t, her eyes
ablaze in the silvery light.
•Yes, mignonne.' _ ♦„ „« i'^
• How dare you say such things to me I —
I Tintt't flfirft u... __ .. . . .__,.
neM"r"'Yc., I wouUl 1 Morgan's an Ei.giisn- i sac =""'l^^-^2-.-i™j,^„ yo„ jn.ult me by
mTn. andan attorney-heinous cr.me.b^^^^^^ ComeLtween him. ani
iur;o:'::n'rdo^b^rHe%' w^^^ -^^^^ '"• -
LADY EVELYN.
M. or ft Iftdy on »
eed ever apply **
-jilted !'
)W Uare you V
eil his •honldert
uglied.
se. eh ? Pray don't
I'm t-xlking like a
ori;an down there
anil he beeged me
good word for him.
, yousi-e.aud I give
1 thought at one
voulil have ended
one down beyond
yes of the CaRtilian
o'b doiigh. Marvy
, and live happy
ful of tjians, and
r tiie rocks,
houaand deaths— 1
a yonder, »H;fore I
I hate him 1'
Iorf?an'B intercessor,
I mairy some onoi
^atlileen. ItV wo-
uld aim of her whole
her voice choked as
led away. 'I will
in to-ninht.'
lahine Kathleen!'—
tely Tauglied a little,
I'll live and die ft
lays, for Rorv'ssweel
:atlileen. Go up U>
! banns.'
! • The donna w a«
-all theae highand-
es are — and as jeaU
ip to the castle, insist
er Rory is yours, not
to him is beyond dia-
iw— he has been court-
ft-as three feet high,
still, and is only after
jve I Kathleen, sholl
aUtol'
the indignation, the
vhichKatlilceu regard,
rond dttscriptjon. She
rfullheig'.t, her eye*
light.
f such things to me f—
, and h«r little biflWB
dare you insult me by
3ome bfitween him ftno
when I would die ••
bis feet to iflahe him happy t Go to thftt
noble l.tdy and Ixilie him — the uublest, the
bravest, the truest — '
Her voice broke down — poor Kathleen
was no orator. She covered her face with
her hands, and burst into a very passion of
tmtrs.
Cierald Desmond shrngged his shonlders,
took out a ci){ar, Htnick a fusee, and lit it.
'Tliey are all filike,' he murmured — 'peas-
ant and piiiici'88. They will go in for
hyuterics in pite of you Well, Kathleen,
doii'i cry — phase yourself, you know — I've
only been t liking to you for your gvjod.
'Fore Georjre ! he must be the darlini; of the
ffods, tliis Roderic Desniond, since yon nil
lose your heads for him ; and he "an jilt you
in cold blood, and the most spirited of you
haven't spirit enough left to resent it.'"
' Ha never jilted me,' Kalhleen retorted,
ftnt;rily ; 'it was aP my own folly from first
to last. What was I, that he — so iiolile so
handsome, so highlwru— siiould stoop to
care lor nie? I tell yoj it wis all my own
mad folly, nothing else ; and I am properly
punished. I beij your pardon, Mr. (Jeiahl ;
you make me pay rude thiues in spite of my-
self. Uood-evcning to you I I must ^^o
home.'
' Wait one moment, Kathleen,' he said,
with a siufular smile. ' You are most
generou!^ — most magnanimous ; now take
}-oui- reward. Look yonder. '
He pointed — she followed the direction of
his finjfer. Up from the shore, inthesilveiy
haze of the risinu moon, two lovers canio,
walking as lovers walk, talking as loveia
talk. She leaned on his arm, clinginsr to
him — a tall, slender, black-robed cirl, with
ft nameless, high-bred grace ; and he — ah ! '
the tall, fair head bent over her, the devoted 1
eyes watched her, in a way that toldthe tale. '
'Lord Roderic Desmond and Donna Inez,'
•aid Gerald Desmond. 'Has he asked her
already to be his wife ? It would bs very like
him, impetuous that he is.and very hke her,
passionate and impulsive, to say yes. Well,
good-night, Kathleen.and— pleosantdreams I'
He touched his hat carelessly and tu ced
•way, humming an old song as he went —
Thou hast learned to love another,
Thou has* broken every vow — '
•nd each word went through the girl's heart
like a knife. Where he had left her, she
crouched down, her free hidden in her hands
with the low, dumb moan of astriclieu ani-
mal. The tears had conio to Gerald Des-
mAnd'a wnrrl* i Httf. Tin t^iirs C^me UC^-^=o:dv
.liQte, dumb despair was left
Gerald Desmond walked slowly home-
ward, in the silvery light of the moon, U
Clontart Castle. His pale face was at al
times fixelly calm, but his light-cold eyoi
gleamed with %n evil gleam. For he covet-
el this Spanish beauty, with his whole suul,
for her r&re lovelinoas, th.it h,i<i iuim! his
c )ld blood— for he: great wealth, that niad-
deneil h.m with covetous decire.
Wliat was his cousin, tnis fair-haired,
impulsive boy that all the glory of the world
should bo his ! 'Vith such a prize as this
Spanish pniicoss for a wife, there was no
eminence in the kingdom but he, with his
shrewd biain and crafty cleverness, might
not attain.
He had hated and envied his consin long,
with a letter and terrible envy, all the more
dead'v from being so closelv hidden ; but he
had never in his whoie life before him—
these two,miitclilc8sin their l)eanty— in their
brgiitvoiitli .ind love. Ger.ihl Desmond set
his ^t■■ong, Mh te teeth and ground out a
terribleoatli.
' I have hat!?d you in sscret for mriny ft
year, you sh.il ow-brained.niad hc,uU<l fooll'
he said with a gleam of devilish malignity
in his light eye^ ; 'the time hr.s cntne to act
now! Woo yoir bl.ick-eyed l»rid.';wiii her
if you can It you ever le.id for to the altar
•if yon pver slip the wedding-circlet on her
finirer— then "write me down
on ass !" I
love Inexd'Al are?, and mine she shall l)e—
mine! I have said it, and we Desmonds
keep our word. When her w<>ldin;;-d.'iy
comes, im'ik. ly as it looks now. I will gt.ind
at the altar by her side, . nd you will be
where, L-Jid R .'eric?'
CHAPTER III.
WKAVINO Tn«; WKR
She sfoo<l by the window, looking out
over the illimiUble sea, a picture of rare
loveliness. Sta ely and t-nW, slender and
wiliowy, graceful ftnd high-bred, the dainty
head held proudly aloft, and the rich massea
of blue-black h;iir falling in a shinine, glossy
cascane ov.r the sloping white srioiilders
down to the littlo waist A low brow ; a
complexion of the deal, creamy whiteness of
ivory ; a curved red mouth, ban hty nnd
sweet at ome, and two wonderful CiitilJan
eyes, long, black, and brighl; as stars. She
was dressed in deepe!>t monrning ; trailing
far behind her over the oaken floor ; her sole
ornaments, a sparkling croes of diamonds on
her breast, and a circlet of red gold clasping
back her beautiful, abundant hair
Ol... .. I _i :.. »i - . . ....
...... _. ,_.._..,_ ... ^jj- long, jon', oiti-ra^h-
loned drawuigroom, the first of a lengthy
suite— alone by the open window, framed
♦
10
LADY EVELYN.
likeMnii exquiMte picture byOrenuze or
I'm.U? ' wild-r<,8eB and climbing ivy. She
fatli.r's ternblo aenth. , j^ ^ i^gt
o' _ i...,i Liiown very uttie OI vnax
vem-. »''• 1 f '^ 7» V,,,an.loo of her tropi-
jMid piiBNion, .1 <i ^"" " ,1 „i was be-
ca. Southern blood f 'l« ' ^'^tasMv "8 to
K„.'^:';!bo::^UHnrwat.^.erbaby-
""a^I Ic ok.nu on nil the sylvan beauty of the
^"' Whl")rc^"8he linger?' she thought with
*'%'he\A8 of an n.tcnsely prou.l and jealous
»nd oomrad. with a great an4
-;f;;'LS-beauti>«l face lit up ^.Jth a
eb.i;ierirgbr\banvycrBhoueon.^^orlaud.
5l,e bc-nt a iittle f^nv^^nl , .^
Viw he canii% «nd honor uer.nu uj
•aV T Icy w^re arm-.n-avn. : both wore
« oki.-i JulL'rd R..daic towered up a
l^ad above his less Btat.ly »^'"^m»'';. ,
T lev had been playniates in y.mth. school-
(llSiuer. an!lK'>derio Desmond, with
tl e nrtn ely hab.t nature rnd custom had
the Vr\[\[^^y^^^^ ,^^,,t ,,i8 „eeay cousu. s cof
^rJt:S;"&«—rand he loved
his cousin
^"\",'e" f^-ir. dark face gUnced out a j^on^
.he waite<l his soveieiKU pWasure.
Rnt the hawk eye of Oerald saw her. awift
a.?he novedan'd the soft, tra.ne.l vo>oe
?o.rev "r so lightly a. he passed beneath th.
"^?wL*' conversing with a very old fri nd
of v^urrtbm time ifst night. Ro'T/ »- ?»" ;
with hi, low. faint laugh = ' »"' -P^'jlnit
cirl-si.e does take your divided allegianc*
?enil.ly to heart W.- had hyHtencs, tea.a
reproaches. <le.pair-all that .ort of thmg
!;:h;^=^^"'what^»e^^9^i^
r vcu are Rory ! Knock Nero to nothing
:y.Herrd He^d 1 It ., the Massacre of
the Innocents over again !
Rory opened hit bright-blue Celtic eye. m .
a wild stare of honest astonishment.
^Hey 1 What the dence are you driving att
I don't know what you mean.
^ .Ot course you don't. T»»f *'•/»''' ^
now-as Benedict, the married man. St.cH
?o it mv dear boy. by all means. Your
la k-eyed donna might uot relish yonr feat,
nf mowesB or knowii.K the list of your kill-
fdS wounded. Only-poor Httle thmg I
I don't believe she'll ever Udnp her head
-?tucri:kt%c'ae'iiJr>hat ^
^'^^^Sr/SS'"f^ouwUll^eit^
Drop the mask with me. Rory. lad It do,',
.ifenough for the senorita. »!" J -;'.-«
till ouch It. Yon haven't used that little
Ji 1 we 1. young one ; she's gone to a shadow
K™«^<1 =" '"'* vsoudn't Wabod
tS for pr ze.fighter. or the university
eS going into training ; it take, the
8uerflu^n« flesh off beyond ""yth.ng J
ko You've heard, among other p. etty
n.et cal fictions, of broken hearts. I suppose
o I b )V ' Well. I give you my word if such
conceivable nonsense could exist I sh.mld
e'v Kathleen's heart wa. smashed to finders.
Ah you've a great deal to answer for. my
^' ^Fonu^'ei^'B sake. Gerald. ' Rory exclaim-
ed impetuous y. fl'nging away his cigar
. « Jak ulainly 1 You nev. r mean to say-
*'^A1, but 1 do !' (Jerald said plaintively.
• She's' Bone dovn beyond redemption, poor
lit e beauty! I don'r set up for Mentor
mv dear Telemacl us ; but, 'pon honour, I
"^ <. .u:..i, „o..'"e I'niie the handsome thing
ly Kathleen': The little one's as innocent a.
a bab3. She thought you wriou. all along.
LAUY EVKLYN.
II
th»gre»t *°*
id out a Becond
iBhed. BhewM
Mi alive, though
t her lover, B«e
sure.
,1 Raw her, twift
t, trained voice
iged beneath the
I very old fri nd
, Roi-y,' ho aaul,
and— poor, little
ivitled allegiance
liysterica, teati,
liatsortof thing
ig in for— to our
Brrible slaughter-
Nero to nothiug }
the Musnacre of
n)we Celtic eyei ia •
lighinent,
vre you driving at?
Jan.'
That'ayonr role
rried man. Stiuk
nil means. Your
it relish yonr feats
le list of your kill-
-poor little thing I
hold up her head
t, Rory r
raid! What poor
igofT'
f you will have it
Rory, la<l. It (Ims
)rita, but I can sea
I't used that little
'b gone to a shadow.
Moulilii't l)e a bad
or the university
ing ; it takes tho
)«vond anything I
among other pretty
en hearts, I suppose,
iiou my word, if such
could exist, I should
8 smashed to finders,
il to answer for, my
erald,' Rory exclaim-
ng away his i^igff.
nevi.r jnean to Siiy —
■aid said plaintively,
and redemption, poor
't, set \ip for Mentor,
; but, 'pon honour, I
le the handsome thing
tie one's as innocent aa
; you serious all along.
I tell yon candidly she as good as told me
she expected you to marry her ; and she's
moat absurdly over head and ears in love
with you. She cried last evening, down
there on tlie sands, until her pretty blue
eyes were as red as a ferret's, ana her little
nnclassic il nose swollen to twice its natural
sise. It's only in novels and on the stage
wom»n know how to weep without
mxliing hideous frights of themselves.
You've made the strongest sort of love to
her, my innocei t Rory — you know you have
—and now you throw her off without a word.
Well, it I our nature, hut it's hard on the
women. If you had only let her down gen-
tly, now — but with a jerk like this I Ah,
bad policy, dear hoy— bad policy I'
And then they passed away beyond sight
or hearing, the last words coming faint and
far-off to the listener's ears.
Site did not see the flush of honest sorrow
and shame that mantled Roderie Desmond's
fair, frank face, or hear the passionate grief
atid self-reprouch in his voice, as he spoke :
' Before heaven, Gerald, I never loved
Kathleen save as a sister — a little playniate
and pet — or thouorht she loved me. I never
made lov« to her. I pledge you my sacred
honour I never thought of this.'
Gerald Desmond langh'd lightly.
* No, I daresay not. Wo don't p: emedi-
tate and do these things in cold blood ; we
go on impulse, and it comes to much the
same thing in the end. You. never made
love to her ? My dear, artless Lord Roderie !
there are ways and ways of making love.
She thinks yuu did ; so where is the differ-
eiee? Never mind, Rory; girls will be
fools to the end of the chapter. " Tis their
nature to, "as Doctor Watts pithily observes;
and we mnst have our little amnsemants.
Don't worry, Rory ; I won't tell the donna.
Lord ! how she would fire up at the thought
of a rival ! I'll keep your s cret, and you'll
reason with Kathleen. Morgan Wiints her,
and if she marries Morgan all will go on
velvet. Her father wishes it — poor, old
broken-down spendthrift ; and you must
talk to her as though you were her ghostly
director, for the old fellow's sake. Come,
let us go in. Bulla-donna will think she has
lost you.'
The wax-lig'it9 were lit in the dark,
quaint, old drawing-room, with it^ heavy,
antique furniture, and its squares of Persian
carpet, and rich old Turkisli rugs, laid over
the po'ished oak flooring.
Doiina d' Alvarez was still alone, still
standing by the window, gazing out over the
shining, moonlit sea.
Ut.- . .. «..M.t..^ ** «-!...:« A«k4a.«mMA . MM/I
):?:TTr irrr'^rrf .......... .*- . ..- .. . ........ — . ......
iji her lover oame up beside her, he started
in wonder to see her face set in white, and
her black eyes glowing with dusky fire
'Inez, my darling I what is the matter?*
' Nothing I' she said, coldly and briefly.
She spoke English perfectly, and all the
more charmingly for hev musical foreign
acont.
With that one curt word she turned away,
and swept C'ver to his (.'ousin.
* Scnor,' she said, with her radiant smile,
'you asked me this morning to sing some
of our old Casti I ian ballads for you. 1 wiU
sing for you now, it you choose-.'
Gerahl looked up in surprise. Suave nml
swift as his courteous answer came, bliu tlid
not linger to hear it She had .sailed away
once more to the further end of tliu nMim,
and l)eut above a tall, old fash>oiicd Irinb
harp.
Her slender white hands swpt the atriuu»»
and grand, masterly chords tilled the room.
Gerald Desmond stood Ixsido her, a shining,
evil gleam in his cold, light *yes.
A servant entered the room.
' Tho Earl wishes to see you in hia rooof^
my lord,' he said to his youthful master.
With a troubled face. Lord Hoderio follow-
ed him out (it the room.
Then Inrz d'.^lvartz threw aside her harp^
and stood erect before Gerald Desmond, witk
angry, flashing dark eyes.
* Half an hour ago, scnor, when yon pass-
ed beneath yonder window with your cousin,
I stood there, ami hea d everv word. What
did you mean ? Has he daitm to deceive ma
— me, Inez d'Alvarez? He told me I had
his whole heart. Has he lied, then T W ho
IS this girl who loves him — whom he loves —
this Kathleen ?'
'My dear Lady Inez — '
' S; eiik I' she stamped her foot vehement-
ly — 'speak, I tell you. I cannot ask him?
He has told me once he loved but me ; he
would tell me so again. Speak, sir, I com-
mand ! Has Roderie Desmond dared to play
with me?'
' Dear Lady Inez, no ! I think not — I <
hope not. He loves you now, and you alone.
How could he or any one, do otherwifif
But Rory is only a youth, and lx)ys art ».rt
to be ficsle. Rcry's nature is iifjht and sus-
ceptible, easily touched and easily changed.
Each fair face makes its mark when we
are oneand-twenty. Di)n't be too hard upon
him, Dot n i Inez. He will always be true to
you, let us hope '
Her passionate Spanish eyes flashed fke,
her little hand clenched in a paroxysm of
jealous rage.
' Madre de Dion ! hear him, bow he
■ t.alkn ! \\ ho !• this Katiiless ? tell me ! I
I insist — I command I'
£/>
12
LADY EVELYN.
Cor-
' A nea8ant-girl~\>cautiful aa one of
teggio » HmiliiiK migeU !' ..„.,.•
" Ah h-h.' »lu) dicw a long ml)ilaut,hi88ing
brcftth. ' And lie loves her— /«! ''
'DearLadv Inez, no, Ho ven forbid!
Tliere has been some boyish folly in the
past— nothing more, believe mo ; and he is
Undsomc, and sho is only a Hlly litHe love-
lick fool 1 Ah. what a pity you chanced to
bear 1 How Boviy I am I hiioUo 1 Uonna
IniT, forgive Roi v. He is but a lad ; forj;.!
It Who couhi loi.k on a pcagaiit-girl,
with all the beauty of a Raphael Madonna.
after BOfiing ynu f . , , ■„. \
She turned from him with the swift ab-
niptnens that was part of hor, laid hold of
the Imrp again, ami bettan to play.
Willi, wuinl melodies tilled the room—
old Castilian airs full of passion and pain,
thrilling and unearthly.
1m the midst of tUo stranite music Lord
Roderio entered, and (Jorald Desmond
retreated at his tOiniMg, and left the lieltl
to him , , 1 • 1
He approaclicd, lie bent over her, he tried
to take her iiand. 'Inez my love, my own,
tell me — ' , • i i
But she Bnatched her hand passionately
nway, and looked at him with eyes that
blazed.
' Release my hand, sir I Let me go.
My head aches. I am going to my
room. ' , T, 1 •
She was gom like » dream. Koilonc
Dernond turned his bewildered face round
■ to his cousin. . , ., •)
' In heaven's name ivhcU does it moan 7
Gerald shrugtjed his shoulucrs. It was
one ot his many affectations. ,
'Dear V>oy, who knows t A woman s
whim 1 Beauty is in the snlks to night ;
beauty will be radiant in amiles to morrow.
Never try to translate a woman's caprices
into common sense. Wiser heads have done
their l)e8t and foiled. Suppose we have a
toothing little game of ecarte f Tliere is
nothing like it for quieting the nerves.
So they sat down ; and when, a little after
midnight, Mr. Gerald Desmond went yawn-
ing up to his chamber, Am nerves were
toothed by fifty additional sovereigns in bis
purse. ...
' I have won I' he thought, with a com-
placent smile. ' I always do win ; and I
shall conquer in this other little game, as
well as in ecarUt. The train is laid biw.
I'll strike the fusee that shall fire it belore
yonder full moon wanes I'
CHAPl'KR IV.
iiKiiJiB m 'in* «►;»«■«•
A small, thatched, solitary cottage, nest-
ling down, M by itself, in the green heart of
the wildest and most picturesque ot lonely
Wiok ow glens.
It looked pretty, it looked a study for a
painlei. but was drearily lonely and for-
lorn, despite all the wild, rugced beauty ol
mountain sceneiy, closing it in like the set-
ting of a gem. It was somewhere in the af-
teinoon-a gray and sunless afternoon, with
a warning of coming storm m the sough-
ing of the sea gale, in the ominous shriekt
of the sea fowl. The sky lay low and
U aden on the black hill-tops ; the fni e and
purple lieath swept downward before the
wind, and the moistnett of the coming rain
was already in the air. . ^u ».
The cht erless light stole through the c - 1-
tage window— sparkling and l^right as the
dull green glass could be made. 1 he little
cottage-kitchen, with iU earthen floor and
scant pleniMng, looked yet exceedingly
clean and tidy, and a bright turf-hre lit it
up with comfortable cheeriness.
Kathleen O'Keal stood leaning against the
chimney, the fair, pretty face sadly sombre
and overcast The soft, child-like eyes had
a wearv look of pain and unshed tears in
their niistv depths and her very attitude,
as she leaned there, Fpiritlcss. weary, told
that hope had gone out of her young heart
alre.ndv. , „
p.-icing np and down the small room wat
a tail, gaunt old man, stoopini? and silver
haired. His thin, intelligent face, with
Its sharp aquiline features, had little in oonj.
mon with othera of his station. Indeed,
the dwellers in turf-cotta>.'P» .'"'ere not
of his station. for Hugh Neal
had been born * gentleman, had been
educated as a gentleman.and though the all-
potent passion for cards and 'mountain
dew,' had in hit old days ooine to this--»
dependant on the bounty of the roost noble
Lord Clonterf.
' Kathleen you must marry him I he was
saving now in a shrill passionate voice. 'I
tell you, girl. I am disgraced forever if this
becomes known. I thought never to touch
cards or whiskey again ; 1 promised you, I
know ; I took my Ixmk oath, God help me,
and— broke it! I have lost all, Kathleen-
all, all, all !' His voice rose to a wild ear-
tpiittiug cry. ' Ihit cottage, the gift of our
noble patron— the bit of land— all gone, and
to Morgan: vn. i^-'iu :■: i.— - ---
will 1 1 vcr hold up my head again, il tint
becomes known T and Morgan threatens to
LAUX KVKLYW.
IS
V.
KHIII8.
y cottnga, nwt-
le groen heart of
csque ol lonely
d ft study for »
lonely "'"l f"'"
rufiaeiX buftuty of
t in like the set-
iwliere iii tho »£•
I afternoon, w\th
III in the souKh*
oinmouB «hiiek«
,y liiy low and
p8 ; the fill I and
naiil before th«
the coining raia
through the c it-
d bright as th«
iiaile. Tlie little
wrthen floor and
yet exceedingly
ht turf -tire lit it
ness.
;aning against the
face sadly sombre
bild-like eyes had
unshed tears in
lier very nttitiule.
illcBS, weftiy, told
f her young heart
le small room wai
lopiiiB and sdver
lligent face, with
, had little in com-
station. Indeed,
ttniL'Ps were not
Hngh O'Neal
leman, had been
ind though the alU
U and ' mountain
ooine to this — k
of the most noble
larry him I' he was
isionate voice. "I
ced forever if this
jfht never to touch
1 promised you, I
)ath. Qod help me,
iBt all, Katlileen —
rose to a wild ear-
itage. the gift of our
laud — all gone, and
lOad again, if thii
[organ threftteus to
forclos" the mortgatre within the month. And
then, Kathleen, you know what remains—
we ar>» thrown u]M>n the woiUl, helpltfss as
two infantA. I am disgraced forever— my
on'y home tho r .ouse. No I' he reared
his tall gaunt foi (sndly upright, and his
bleared old eyes u&.4aed through their tears
— ' no I it shall never come to that with
Hugh O'Neal, whose fathers once reigned
Kings of Ireland — never wliilstthere is water
enough in tlie sea yonder to hide his shame ?'
'Father, father I' the girt said piteously,
' for the love of heaven don't say such hor-
rible things I 01), Mrliy did Morgan ever
come here to tempt you to your ruin 7'
'The ruin would have come the SAme
without him,' tho old man said gloomily.
' It was my fate. But I swear to you.Kath-
leen, and this time I will keep my oath, that
if you save me now I will never touch oard^
or linnor while I live again I'
' \ ou have sworn it so often, 'she answer-
ed wearily ; ' and oh, father, you know how
you have kept your word I If I save you I
You know I would willingly die to keep
you from inisery and sliaine.'
' No one wants you to die,' O'Neal said,
eagerly. ' You are youii>< and beautiful,
my 'laughter, and there i« a long and happy
li/e in store for you. You know who pro-
mises a long and happy life, even in this
world, to ciutiful clidJren? You will be
rich and honoured and happy as Morgan's
wife.'
' As Morgan's wife I' She stood erect,
and tho soit blue eyes, so tender, ao gentle
always, met her f^itliur's with a look he had
never i^en there before. ' Happy as the
wife of a man I hate — a bad, orafty, un-
principled man I Father I will never marry
Morgan 1'
' Then my blood bo on your head !' cried
the old spendthrift furiously. ' I tell you
Kathleen O'Neal, the diiy that seen Morgan
turn us out of house and home, sees my
curse, hot and heavv, on you ?'
' Oh, father father I*
' You refuse Morgan, forsooth I — you a
p.auper cotter's child — the richest attorney
111 Clonfarf — in thocouniryl But we all
know why, you little fool I You're disgrac-
ing yourself, and diseracing your father, by
your love -sick folly for Lord Roderic Des-
mond I A pretty girl yon are — a nice, virtu-
ous girl — to 1)0 making the idiot of yourself
and the townland, by your madness ! You'll
disgrace me next — woree disgrace than Mor-
gan can bring us. The neighbours whisper
al)out you already, I can te:l you, my lady.
Don't you know he's going to marry this
Spanish lady — the heiress of a milliouairo,
\im want to nurrjr a lord, quotha I
and so turn op yonr nose at an
attorney. Bat T tell you, yon little,
wliimpiring timnleton, Lord Roiy doesn't
think of you halt as much, or half as often,
as he does of the honnds in his father'e pM>lt»
of the horses in his father's stable I'
' Oh, father I' Kathleen cried again, in »
voice of pissionate anguish. 'Have you n<y
mercy? Do vou want to drive me mad T
I Oh, I wish — I wish I had never been born I'
'Will you marry Morgan?' said her
I father stopping in his atridf, and standing
j sternly before her.
j ' Father, I cannot t I loathe, abhor that
; man ! I would sooner die I Ah, Qod h«^^
' me, I think my heart will break V " '''■
' Let us hope not,' said a Koft voice Mksda
man's form darkened the do')rway. ' Hoarta
don't break in the nineteenth century; we
have had them, like our city streets, ma-
cailiimized. What's the trouble, my little
Kathleen ?'
' Tho trouble is that she is a fool I' re-
plied her father, with ;erncity — 'the srreat-
est fool that ever breathed ! I have told yon,
Mr. Gerald, how matt rs stood between me
and .Morgan, and still she won't consent to
mary hun.'
• No ? That unlucky Morgan I how yon
do di!<like him,to-be-8nre, Kathleen I What's
the rea?on, I wonder ? He is not such a bad-
looking fellow in the main, and he oan keep
yOH in clover. '
' You kn iw the reason — w«ykll know the
reason,' said O'Neal, brutally ;*, and fhe
ought to be ashamed to hold up her head.
By tho Lord Harry I I'll go up to the castle
myself, and make Lord Rory come here,aiid
order her to marry the attorney. She'll
obey him, may be. since she worships the
ground he walks on.'
' Oh, mother Mary I* murmured poor
Kathleen, hiding her face, ' pity me I Oh,
what— what—what — what shall I do ?*
' No need for ycu to tramp to
the castle, my dear old dad,'
said Qerald Desmond, coolly. 'Rirywontt
to sec Kathleen himself. There's the deuce
to pay up at Clontarf. The donn* has got
wind of Master Rory's little flirtation with
Kathleen here, and double things wouldn't
bold her. Lord Roderic bade me ask you a
f>ivonr, Kathleen— to meet him at dusk at
the Fairy Well "What answer am I to take
back V
Her heart gave a jrreat throb, that foolish,
unrestrained little heart. Since that event*
ful evening, six weeks ago, she and her darl-
ing had never met.
' Tell him I will be there !'
Ulie rose oa she said it, and girded from the-
ti
1«
L.AUX BiVM.YW.
{^
,^m a«r«l.l De.mond looked af « h.r.
with hit dligl't, chill »'»|1«- . .
• I thought you woul.l, .nd I 11 «"•"" P;»y
with thu .r.n.UK,me donu. "'«*";»' 'j^.^'^i
V.U .o dowu '" f'- J"r ght n 't" end
CTwm t\uke''hLuadLun father. U,
^:' ^:i a ^>.d from In.u wUl l-va jht
By Jove 1 it will b« " ko'/J «• » P'*y J«
K;:crfo; To- -n-low.in . south'.
*' With which. Mr. Oerald sauntered away.
wh.HUinR .oftly. and w.th that cold, ch.ll
•mile yet on his inacruUblu tace.
It wL a wild and lonely Kpot, on the wild
«.d ""ly nu.uuUin-Mde. whore t'.e cvv-tal
t^r « Vml.l.led up from the ve vet tuf.
•fh . Kauy Well h.id it» u.a^.c «''*;«'.»';;
lov n, clfue from far and near toJrmU U.
l,urhant.d waters together, and be faithful
'"l,?nir°e''K;thleen eto«<l. whU.t the eerie :
eve.i KliKl.tdeepe...d and darkened, and
t^e 3't w.ud blew bleak trom the sea.
A L.^at midne.. lay on the *.rlB face, and
thebir eycluokei over thejarken.ng
lanuecape with a still, weary despair.
•It I^^onldonly die.' she tho«Kht and
,„d it all 1 Life is so bitter, .o long, and tl.e
riuht IS ao hrffd to find r ,
^A etep«ame fleetly down the h.U-sule.and
Kathleen's henrt gave one great leap. A
Kl sAer form came springing lichtly
?ver the turt. and a second later. Lord Ro- ,
deric Desmond stood before h.r.
Ah Kathleen, it was • seething the kid m
its iiKither's milk ' to bring yon there to look 1
i, that face, beautiful w.th mans beit
beauty. toli«t..ntotho voice you loved so
rearly pleading the cause of another man I
So looked up once -.then ^-^ «y«« f*^;
.nd ahe half-turned away. He saw the
ch nge n that poor, pale face-so sunny, so
^v six short weeks before-and the sharp-
rt\;ang of remorse he had ever f elt m his
whole life pierced his heart. It was las
work and he knew it. ,
•Kathleen. Kathleen l' he said tenderly,
toking both her hands-' my dear httle
Kathleen, how sadly y<.u are cl anged .
HeiK-nta^ove h.r. ^^ V'^'"^^*^ ZT.'.
„i„g-and just on the moment two figure.
Sared among the shadowy rock, below-
oTald Desmo.id whisiM^red ; ' see for yo«.-
"...'„. T_.- !.„«, t^,uUr. hew true you
ru':iUa£Thi?hardea.yp.yf^^^^^^^^
uLi'. work I Leave n»e, Seuor 0«»ld , I
shall pl.y the spy »1om-
• But Lady Inez— .
. Leave me'-«he stamped her foot on th.
y eld!?« turf, and looke<l at h.m w.th .he,y
I^Unce before which he quailed— leav.- me.
f crmand. The wren,. U- .; •- -; - -
-mine be the "-"t^V^V Ji^ I wMit
iu.Unt ; yon have guided me here , 1 wan!
^"sh^lSd ll'ke a fiery yonng R-«t.rn .n^-
before her, and went at once.
8he.natched .oinething trom the fold, ol
. „ a'^8_Bomeihing that gleamed and
«U.tel^ blue and deadly in the gray «loam-
»'^ Tlle'r^^e teva'r'^ntver Uke insult
without g*v.n«bacU death T .h. .«ul. be-
«ar. 'a\ untre her own wroues i
And tlfe" w.th her black mantilU drawn
eU^e a. out iier supple figure, her eye. glow
„,i like black flame, her teeth -«» 'ud gh.^
" ning Utween her parted l.pe, f •"•**"
Nemesii bent forward to look wd luten.
CHAPTER VL
HOW THB 8P1DKR WOV» HIS WKfc
., ,x T-„, ».««: tnnder. hcw true your
!o";:- car be'."' Yonder he is with his first
love his pretty Kathleen.
• Ah.h-h I' It wa. a long, fiery heart-
Oerald Desmond', own clever brain and
craf ptotVhig hM\ brought about thin pretty
tSe'au i no happy chapter o accidenU
Srif 'Id he ha.Una;ed his bird, cleverly,
like the skilled fowler he was.
On the day following that u.iplea«int little
miHundorstan.ling between the affianced.
The wo cousiiiB had gone to the moor«
with their doe. and their «»«••,.«":•
with his lighted Manilla oetweeu In. teeth
Smoked and talUed with his cu.toniary ea.y
Zd ature; but Lord Roder.c'. hand^
feme face wo^e a clond that ^r^^y^^^^^f^
that sunlit countenance. His answers were
all absent and at random ; ^i- thought, were
not with hi. companion, nor their prospec-
?ive 8P rt Gerald .hrugged hi. .houlder.,
and gave it up at last ,
• Pleasant companion you are lor a aay •
BDort. I must say,* he remarked; en-
enraging, certainly, to ask th" same que.-
'-""'* " .■ .„.! ti.o.t aft a. vacant
lion tnvcc Sinit-a ur^i, r.,.- r^-- -
,Ure by way of reply. Be m dull as -^-ath,
old fellow, if you oboow. 1 believe it » the
UiVX tf.Vt^)iti.
»
■e, 'Trmiior ! <U«-
ile*rl7 P»y '«>•; ,'!'"
»e, 8«nor G«nild ; I
ped her foot on tho
I »t him with « Heiy
quailed— ' l*^**"""*"'
, U»i •! •">« •f "•"*•
aiou ! Uhv« tHi»
td me here ; I *»«»•
r yonng Eastern eul-
I the boWBiiiiig— im-
le. Ho bowed low
oiioe.
na trom the fold* ol
that gleamed »nd
ly in Uie gray «loam-
iietto.
;i never Uke iMUlt
jath !' ehe »«id, be^
write teeth. ' False
how lues d'Alverei
.lack mantilla drawn
figure, her eyes Blow-
er teetli Mt and ghn-
ted lipe. the uu»««n
to look •ad lUleu.
ER VX
WUVK HIS WIB.
own clever brkin and
,nght,al)Out this pretty
jhapter of accidenU.
,8, 'whilst all unoon-
in, the little victim*
ared his birds cleverly,
he WW.
ig that unpleasant little
Btween the affiaiiceJ,
id gone to the nioc-s,
1 their guns, GerJd,
ilia oetween his teeth,
nth his customary eaty
Lord Roderic's hand-
oud thut rarely vi«it«d
nc«. His answers were
idom ; bis thoughts were
nioM, nor their prospec-
shrugged his shoulders,
lion yon arc Vcr a day •
f,' he remarked; 'ea-
r,' to aak th" same ques-
.L .p,.i theu !:et ft vacant
iy. Be as dull as t'«ath.
loose.
1 believe it's the
normal st«t« of yon lovers oot of sight of
yonr Uulcineas.'
' I beg your pardon, (}«r,' Lord Roderio
■ai<l, rouiing himself ; ' I have been alwent,
I am afraid. Yon have no one t<i thank for
it but yourself, though. You shouldn't have
told me that about little Kath eeiiO'N<«l, if
jrou wanted an agreeable coinpaaion.'
' Remorse-Blriuken, e^ ? Really, Rory,
^ou are an original, an should have lived
in the days wheu men wwrr the red cross on
their b^gs, and fou^iit to the last gasp for
the Holy SepiUolire. You ai-^ entirely
thrown aoray in the present prosaic age, my
dear Sir Charles Uramlisou. All in the dis-
muis, fors(X)th I because a pretty little
peuaant girl chooses to yield, iuoontiueutly,
to your iuvinoilile prowess.'
' For heaven M sake, (iorald, leave ofT
vour chatlJng and talk common sense !'
broke out Hory, impittiently. * ' Your wit
m.-ty be very brilliant in Liiioo'u's Iiio, aud
your VoltaireiHni of the tir-it water ; but
yo r jeitt« iriid your oyniuigms are alike
thniwu away upon us Irish iMrbariaiis. I
don't want to fiel eve what y»u tell me
alMtut Kathleen, (.iod knovts ; but if it be
truu, why, then, Gerald, I'm afraid — all un.
coii-Kiiously— I've been a villain.'
' Very likely, dear boy. You .'iiean you've
m;>do love to her f Why, so you have i
but at the same time— with all respect
to Kathleen — nhe haa made love to you,
too We men get all the blame in these
oases, and it's not fair upon us. We make
love, without doubt ; but the pretty ones —
blew their hearts ! — as a rule, meet us liulf-
wiiy, and are most uncommonly willing
to i>«ve it male. You have been courting
Kathleen ever since you could lisp, and
exc'ianj{ed love tokens in the shape of
sweet-meats ; and Kathleen took the kisses
an. I the b>on-boii8, with the keenest
relish for both, and held out her two ha'<ids
for more. It's their uhture — dear, little,
teiider>!iearted. tender-headed thingn !
Never fret, dear boy — a wedding dress and
a plain gold lini;, and the " undivided de-
vot ion of one honest heart, " as tliey say iu
lailies' novels, will console her for your
loss.'
' Meaning Morgan, the Cockney attorney,
I Nuppose ?' said L>ord Roderic, rather sur-
lily. ' I tell you what, Gerald, I'd rather
see a (^od many other things hnppen than
see our little VVicklow rosebud tiea for
life to that grim old cactus. I hate to
inmi^ne her sweet little faoe alongside of
that ugly, sleek-mouthed Englishman's I'
' Ah, 'Gerald said, airily, 'sits the wind
in t^hat quarter f My faith I I b«gin to
believe that LAdy lues haa ■ome grounds
f <r jealousy after all. My artless Rory I
who would think you could he so d(>giii.th«i
maiigurish f You can't marry the little one
yountHf, and you don't want any one ebe to
many her ! How the donna's black eyes
would ligliten if she heard you, tobesure t'
' The donna I' Rory repeated, sharply ;
' what doe* the donna know ot Kathleen f
' Very little as yet, I allow ; bnt i nough
to make her intensely jealous. Are you so
blind and stupid, my boy, as not to know
what rilod her last night? And upon my
honour, I begin to believe site baa mois
reason than I thought.'
'Stuff and nonsense! If Kathleen b«-
willing, shn may marry the man in the moon
for me. And assuredly I shall never forbid
the banns between her and Morgan '
'Ah,' his cousin said, with one of his long,
lazy sighs; 'but the banns wi 1 never !>«
published, dear boy, unleM you plead Mor-
g'ln's ciiuse. '
Rory opened his clear blue eyes iu wide,
indignant wonder.
'I'l I'll see Morsran in Tophet first t'
' Well, it's probable you both will meet,
there some day. However, it's a little hnrd
at present, all the same. See here, Rory,
you've been very fond of Kathleen, and die
of you, all along ; absurdly fond on her
part. I must sny. Donna Inez appear* upon
the scene ; you save her life in the most ro-
mantic and sensational manner, and you fall
in love with her headlong, after the most
approved romance-heio fnoliion. You forgot
Kathleen immediately— May-like ; but the
poor little willow-wesrcr can't forget you
quite so easily, since nothing better- looking
comes n-Hooing. She can't believe herself
deiterted ; she can't believe you really mean
to marry another, and she won't listen to
reason and marry that very clever little fel-
low, Morgan, as she oufht. And if she
doesn't hear to reason, before the month is
out, he'll turn them both, father and daugh-
ter, neck and crop, into the street. Tliat
old fool, O'Neal, has been at his former
tricks, and has gambled and lost the roof
alM>ve his head, and the duds upon his back.
Morgan gives them their choice— mm ri age
or misery— a wedding-ring or the workhouse.
Kathleen can't see which w.-^y duty lies, as
yet ; but a word from you will make it plain
and palpable. '
' That unmitigated scoundrel I' Rory cried
ferociously. ' I always knew Morgan was a
cold-blooded villain! I'll pay him the old
man's debts, and horsewhip him within an
inch of his life alter.'
' My valiant Don Quixote ! Unfortunate-
ly, yoti can't. Mr. Morgan dccliiifw aI I >ilt.«r.
natives but the two I have mentioned Um
10
LADY KVKLYN.
M
•
loTft inunay, but he lov«i hi« rt- vcnge more.
Anil, alter »11. you might <l(. K^Uhlm-n
gruater nurvic* than liorw-whippiiig tho innii
who waiiU to nmirv her. Wliat would you
bav«? «h«c 'til'vb-tter.'
•>« 'I**'"
<lo> H« ia not han<l«ome,
K II 1 wera K atliieeii,
\y„ R«"ry. t.K).'
inpitient oAtIi ■■
Whi»t ' U«l»t 1 to
'Or thiNl-
piti my Lon:
K ly grouiHi '>ut
Iiip* •*(<r heart— Ooru
dor
* Tou oujjht tt) lee Kathleen anil tell h'-r :
to mar y MorKnii, ami that you will miiko 1
h^r apr«»t,it of ft w<!<Uliiii{ilt '^s. Kino I i
cMiina* ftntwer fo' thti oou»ec|u. .'». Sue
nuy *»•»♦* "P to Cliiiitmf in » Ht of <i«»pera-
tion--«uiM« I J" tl'csM thingn— «leiMnn<l an
ihtfrvicw w.th '^« douiia, and olaiui her
prior right to you ' ... .
• Nouseiisf, (leiii'd I Rory cried, alarmed.
' KiithicfMi i« not tlie ^irl fo do th.-»t.'
' All H>yU are alike when oro-Wid in love ;
they'll do anytliing, inv lad. Como. como,
Roiy, dr.n't be sfjueaunsh. S>e tha iitt'e
one ; toll her you iiro alxmt to dnii the rosy
fetUire of— whafii his iimu.! ?— Hyuieii, and
nryo her to (fo »"'' 'I" likewise. It's tho
best service you can render her, and the only
a omnient for the i>.ist.'
'So be it, th.-n/ Rory Baid. with some-
I'Miig liko ft gi«iiu;'atid yet— miy Old
NioU fly avay with Morgan bofuro his wed-
diuK-d.iy l* , . 1 •»!
It vvivi* lafc? wlion tliey returnoil. witli
well tiil -d g;iu\o-li:igs. Tho nioir fowl had
b-eii ploiilifal, tho sport g.od, .lad Lonl
Rory h.\<l shik.MiolF his gloom ad a bird
gh;ik<-8 olT ita glistening wingi.
Ho looked haiidioin ! imd happ/ as A young
priiioo when ho .•iitortd tho dniwing-room,
tho hilfhonr before dinner, anil found his
darkeyo I bo rotlio I tliere ah.no. Ho boot
over 1 01- an.l kiajied, with all tho ardour of a
lover auil au Irishman, tho low, dark brow.
' My darling, has Iho cloiid qnito gone ?
Tell ino now how I offended last night,
Tti »'/ *
Tlie dark eyea looked at him earnestly
knd long. ,
* Lord Ro lerio. who is Kathleen ?
He roddened, half in guilt, h.ilf in impa-
H..>noo. Kathleen was becoming the Nemesis
of his li! 1).
• My earest, who has b'wn talking to
yon ? What do you know <>f Kahlocn T
' That you lovod her, my lord— nay, that
fou love her still.'
' inoi r
' Lord Rodoric. is it not true T
' True ? No 1 i swear it by the heaven
kbovA us I I never loTed Kathleen. She
waa my playmate— my little favourite, if
you will : but to ove her— no, Inrx I I never
knf-w what love meant until I saw you."
H<r face liffhted ; he eyes gleamed, lie
looked so noblo. so kingly, so truthful— her
golden-haired hero.
' You nwear this. R«>d«'ric V
' By my soul's ho|H>— y.** I I love yon.
an<l you alono -my mioi-ii, my darling— and
I »ever loveil any other. '
' ( believe you. ' She ! kid her hands in hie,
hor <l»rk. impafsioued lace radiant. 'Oh
my love mv lord, it hae lieen very bitter to
doubt youi truth.*
' Never .loiilit attain, InM. Never wrong
yourmtlf. niy p<.)i less dai ling, by the thought
that the man you have hou.uiiod by your
lo "« could ever look upon tho face of any
oii ' woman. Here are tho others. Promise
m«, luy love, my briilt, l»efore they enter,
never douBt mo moie.'
She turned her brilliant, boantiful face,
cloudless now. Hut the promine that would
have hound h.r fast as her marriane^ vow
wusnot destined to bo given, for Gerald
I).i»..iond came fud.lenly foiwaid, with
wonUof gay and gnlant greotingon his lips,
• You appeared iii'iisposed Isst night I
trust I see you entirely restored this even-
ing. Donna Inez ? We cannot afford to have
the sunnhiiio of Clontarf clouded V
The donna's reply was a noKligent bow.
The earl— a blull, unwieldly Athelstan, with
vet the remains of great gooil looks in the
inidst of his corpulency- entered with hm
sister. La<ly Sarah— a vestal virgin of the
ohl Hchool— and the old lainily-party ad-
iourned to dinner.
Gerald Desmond— ft brilliant conversa-
tionalist at all times— outshone himstlf to-
day. His racy aiiecilotcs of all tho b^t and
most noted people of England his w'tty
r,.,ying«, his epigrams, kept the jovial old
carl in a constant roar.
Ev n that g im virgin. Lady Sarah, re-
laxed into occasional smiles ; and Rory,
happy in the renewed sunlight of hh liego
laily's smiles, was almost as sparkling and
animated as his delightful cousin.
His inspiration sat beside him, with the
last leve' rays of the sunset slanting through
her dea<l-black hair, and clcaming in her
soft, Spanish eves, lightening up the rare
Castilian loveliness into a picture fit for
Guidoor Rapiael. She, too, smiled lan-
guidly now and then at the dashing young
London barrister's wit, as sho trifled with
the wini/of abirdorher .'.v» of rare old
vii>Age.' But he was no tup-cd ' .vourit*
ol hers, this light-eyed. Hiflif, 'fl .> ', glib-
tongiica yna:-}; :!isii, at ■••« — '^^ -»'
him usually, tnan otherwiw.
LADY KVKLYN.
IT
littlo Uvoarite, if
r— n<», Inet I j n«y«r
mlil I "aw yim.'
eyw gloameii. Il«
ly, so truthful— h«r
yiHi I I love yon.
11, my tlftrling— •ua
till her hamU in hit,
(aoe r»(li»i)t. *0h
t»eeii v«rv hitter to
[nfE. Never wronji'
iliiiK.hy th»i thouBht
hoii.iui-ed by your
in thu face of any
• tho other*. ProniiM
Iwfore tliey enter,
mit, bcantifiil f«oe,
) promine titttt would
licr nmrrian« vow
given, for Gtrald
^nly foiwaid, with
tgrnetiiigon iiislip^.
insed l«et niglit I
restored this even*
cannot afford to have
f cloadatl V
.s ft nnttliK<'nt bow.
eldly Atheietan, with
t gciud looks in the
y— enteitd with hie
/estil virgin of the
Id lamily-party ad-
i brilli'»nt converaa-
ontsiione liimscU to-
tc« of all Ihu b^t and
England his witty
kept tho jovial old
in, Lady Snrah, re-
1 smiles ; nn<l Rory,
sunlight of hi* liego
ost as sparkling and
tful cousin.
leside him. with the
inset slanting throuxh
nd clcaniing in her
;litflnin,< np the rare
nto a picture fit for
llie, too, smiled Ian-
at the dashing yoanj
t, as sho triBed witii
ler s'.i^s of rare old
no isp'u'id '.vonrite
d, !i«ii;, 'I'l •<•', glib-
ir '.8!SitL?r aroided
ierwia«.
Tliat night, long after the family had re-
tired, the Lundiin barrisUr tat by l,i<tchain>
b«r-window. smnkiiig, M-d indolently sur-
veying the starry heavens, a* sien through
elouils of Cavendish \U< usually contined
himself Ut the mildest Manillas. To-night
he smoked a pi|)«, loi»d«d lo it» bla( k iniixzle
—a sure sign ui de«p thinking and danger
•beail.
■ How lovely she looked to-niWit I' he
though', setting hie strong teeth savagely
on the stain of hii^pipe , ' More darkly
beniitifiil than the iPici lieriielf. And to
think that he—that shallow-headed, con-
ceited, overgrown l>oy — iihould win so glori-
ous a prize, whilst I — Hv li«i«ven, and all
ita Htairy hosts, he shall not win her ! Not
while my brain has p<;wer to ^lot, or my
rigl t hand cunning to work I U hat are they
all— lloiy, Kathleen, the donna herself—
but pupix'ts, who dance as I pull tho strings?
I have hated Rory Desmond, my handsome,
highborn, print, ly oousin, ever since I have
known what 't waa to envy or covet. Now
thu time t« wtrikd Imii from his high eitate
has cosne, and I swear to-night that Doiiua
d'Abur an'l her regal fortune shall bo
mine, if I iiuve to walk over my rival's dead
t.(,(ly to reach her hand 1'
He ground his teeth vindictively. An in-
ataiit after— so strong had habit become —
he laughed softly in derision of himstdf.
' Hiich inflated language — such very bad
"form," tit only lor the boards of the
Princess. Bah ! even the vendetta has trone
out in Conuca. We don't go down to the
footliuhts, I ke MacdiifT, and, with your eye4
fixed on the chandelier.and our sharp swords
outstretched, swear etenial vengeance on
our foes. No, we don't dothatsort of thing;
bad taste. We smoke our Cubas.lift our hats
t > one another, and say little ; but some fine
morning our Macl>eth is pinked under the
filth nb, amonir the dew v grass and cowslips
and M. Macciuff's wife and interesting family
are quietly avenged all the Baine. I can
•lay, and smile while the knife is in mine
enemy's vitaln.'
Tlie next afternoon, Mr. Desmond walked
over to the cottage of old O'Neal, and had
that interview with father and daughter.
When ho left the old man, and returned to
the castle, he found his cousin awaiting him
W th an anxious face.
' It's all right, Rory, lad,' he said chee .
jly. ' .Slie will meet you at iliisk at the
Fairy Well. Ami by the same token, von
have notiino tu spare, it you would not keep
a lady waiting. It^rows dusk now. Where
'" the donna ?'
' In the drawing-room, with Lady Sarah.
Confouud it. Uerald I I would rather go
to my hanging than this meeting with poor
Katlileeti.'
' Would you. dear boy ? Now, bow in-
consistent that it, after sending me to make
tiie appointment. Hliall I go in your stead,
tell K.Atlileeu you are ttMi— liow shall we
namo it ?— too nervous to cornet'
PiHjh ! At the Fairy W ! .id you Mty »
Qei ke'p Lady lues from .1" ':>nidy un-
til \ leturn. Hhe wished .. . ttiko her out
fill a walk, by-the-by. Do you uke her,
(Jit •
° Ah, ^he wished yuu take her out ? Whal
excaee did yu make V
'•'A\i\ her 1 I id an appointment with a
fnoii't, Oer— there ■» a giKHl fellow— keep her
amused till I come t>ack.'
He sUirted off briskly, and Gerai.) looked
after him wi ti a slow, evil smile. Tlieo k$
turned and entered the house. Lady Sarah
sat by one of the window*, trying to read bjr
a palc,gray light. The donna Mt('0<| listlesa-
ly at another, looking out over the wide se»
She turned quickly at the sound of footstepa
but her face clouded when she saw who it
was.
' The evening is pleasant. Lady Inet. le
it not a pity to spend it indoors f What do
you say to a walk ?'
'Thank you, senor,' very c<ddly. • I will
wait, I think, until Lord Ro<lerio returns '
'Ah.' There was a world of meaning in
that one little word, a world of innuen io in
the smile that accompanied it. She<.= aghk
both, and turned upon him like like 1 'it-
ning.
' What do-you mean, aenor ?'
' My flear Lidy Inez, nothing.' But .h«
smile was still there— amusetl, cont<.'mprn-
nus, compassionate. The great CiStM n
eyes lit up, and one little nand olenolx I
tiercoly.
' You mean something. Do not speak
falsehoods t in, Sonor Gerald. \Vhither
has my lord gone ?'
' Hs has told you. To meet — a friend.'
' And that friend ?'
' Your pardon, senorita. Lord Roderio't
secrets are his own.'
She was white with jealousy, already, and
the dark eyes were f« I of glowiiiu fire.
'Scnor.'she said, in a husky, breathlese
whisper, ' you are my friend —you say you
are. You will tell me whero he has gone.
Ah, Dion.' see, I plead to you— I, Ine»
d'Alvarez. You will tell me, will you not ?'
' But it would be treason to him.'
' He nofld never know. Do yon think I
would betray yo i ? Senor Gerald, tell me,
or I will never look at vou airain wKiU T
live V ' ^ -
18
LADY EVELYN.
I
♦ SooMr than that - Lady Inez, do you
InaiBt ?'
• I do — I command !'
•Then oiiiH with mo. You word is my
law. To pleaae you I wouhl lay down my
kfoV
have mr wn as wliite as thn foam of the sea—
you, my little Iriali ro8«bud 1 You have not
been ill ?' , ^ . .
Ho bent hu j^olden hrad to catch her
answer, holding Iwih hands in his own.
The watcher, in t' e tw ilight, set her paar-
IL ..a„„y i,»r.i hi. , .h. .-..i"ir \ 'v '-?;.r,iYlir,t :»M KtTi
dul not unde.stand him. She 8natcli<-(i up
tk mantilla of velvet and lace, and threw it
over head and ahont her, and flitted with j
him out of the room. |
She took h s arm, and they walked rapid-
ly and in silence throiifh the evening sha-
dows. Once only hIu; upoke, and the jues- :
tion came in a hissing wliisper :
' Is it to meet her he has gone T
He heard the gnsp with which she caught
her l>roatli ; h« saw the mortal whiteness of
the face looking out from the folds of velvet
aud lace. . , , , i
• Women of her fiery blood have murder-
ed the man they love for less,' he thought.
Tlie disk w,i8 deepening fast as they
reached the foot of tlie mountain. Half-way
up itsgroen breast the the Fairy Well bubbled
and in the twiliglit the two stood as lovers
Btau<l keeping tryst, her hands clasped in his,
hi« gulden, handsome head bent above her.
• Look !' Gerald D -smoml whispered.
• Sec for youi se f. Donna Inez, how tender,
how true, your lover can be 1 Yonder he
■Unds with hit first love, hii pretty Kath-
CHAPTER VL
FACI TO FAOI.
the two standing liefore her would have been
blisfcedtheie and then.
Kathleen looked quickly up, her pale
cheeks flushing. Some subtle, womaily in-
stinct told her what thatdeep'y compission-
ate tone meant, and her*tri8h »p rit rose on
the instant. She drew her hands away, look-
ed him, quietly and steadily, full in tlie face.
'I have not been ill, LordHoderic. Mr.
Gerald told me~my father and me, this
afternoon— that you especi dly wished to see
re here this evening, and I have come
'Yes,' Rory said, a little embarrassed,
•I did— I do. It is about yonr father I
would speak to you Katldcen. I know all.'
' All !' The blue eves fliished upon him }
the Cheeks flushed deeper. Hb could see
the rapid throbbing of her heart. Every
feminine inst net rose in alarm to guard her
bidden secret from him.
• All, Kathleen— your father's misfortune,
his losses at the gaming-table, this man
Morgan's power . And they want yon to
marry Morgan, Kathleen?'
'They do.'
' Aud youT' He spoke a little hnvnedly.
He did not want to mnrry Kathleen himself
—he was not in the least in love with her ;
bttt she loved him, and she was an exceed-
ingly pretty girl, and— oh, vanity of the best
of men ! he did not" want her to wed another.
• What have ^ou said to them, Kathleen ?'
Her held drooped— she made a little, pas-
■ionate gesture as she turned away. To hnve
him stand here— loving him with her whole
heart— asking her thi», was the bittereat
She droop^ before him aa a broken lily
droops before the wind. She did not look
onlike a broken lily herself- wan as a spirit
of moonlight, ao sad, so pale, so silent, Tlio --
heart of .yo«n« I-rl^l'^^rA^rrll?.! I ^'"Clhleen, my little playmate, they shall
not force yo.i, those others 1 Not even your
father shall sacrifice you for his own selfish
out to his little playmate in a great cotnpas-
tion. She loved him— he knew it— loved
him so dearly so vainly that all her bright,
Birlish bloom v as gone.
The light fjided from the sparkling eye^
the dancing smiles and dimples from the
mignonne face. She loved him; and that
man has yet to be bom whose mascuhne
vanity «• not inexpressibly 800the<l and
flattered by homage so sweet. For those fair
•atricken deer* who fall hopelessly befoie
them they have a complacent and infinite
pity which, for the time being, is next door
neighbour to a much warmer feeling. A
man's pity for a wonmn is but one degree re^ ^ ^
moveti from iov« ', a "omr.n's for a aiwi, re:; •• ••
oloeelyalHwl to -contempt
•My UttU Kathleen,' Rory WMd, 'yoa
ends I If vour heart says no, my dear litt'e
Kathleen, 'I'll see Morgan in Tophet before
he'll ever marry you !' « , ,
The impetuous »)lue eyea flashed, the im-
petuous boyish voice rang out. He towered
up before, a golden hairea King David,
beautiful and bright as ever was the poet-
king of Isreal. And he had come here to
plead that unhappy Morgan's cause.
' I'll pay vour father's debts myself, and if
^. that pettifogging Cockney attorney make*
I- one demur. I'll pitch him necl- nnd crop into
klaw Bav ! Hang his B lizlish impu-
denoe I Hew dare the bandy -legged scoun-
drel think to force the prettiest little girl
n
LAU\ KVELVW.
19
ho foam of the se* —
md ! You have not
hrad to catch her
ids in his own.
I iliglit, set her poar-
k» boon ligl)tnin(r,
Iter would have beea
ickly up, her pale
subtle, wom;»ily in-
.kideep'y comp'»RHion-
•^rish Rp rit rose on
er hands away, look-
irlily, lull in the face.
LordHoderic. Mr.
»ther and itip. this
>eci illy wished to sea
lid I have comp. '
X little emharrassed,
ahout youv father I
itlili'en. I know all."
5S fliwhed upon him :
per. Hfc could see
[ her heart. Every
in alarm to i^uard her
I.
r father's misfortune,
ning-table, this man
nd they want yon to
en?*
oke a little hntriedly.
irry Kathleen himself
ast in love with her ;
id she was an exceed-
-oh, vanity of the best
int her to wed another,
to them, Kathleen ?*
she made a little, p.os-
turned away. To have
^f^ him with her whole
ii>, wat the bittereat
e playmate, they shall
thers 1 Not even yonr
fOM for his own selfish
says no, my dear litt'e
)rgan in Tophet before
1'
e eyea flashed, the im-
rang out. Ho towered
n hairea Kin^ David,
t as ever was the poet-
be had come here to
Morgan's cauee.
er's debts myself, and if
iockney attt^rney make*
him necl- and crop into
inff hiB B ii?lish impn-
the bandy •leggi'd scoun-
the prettiest little eirl
fai Clontarf to marry him, whether she will
or not*
Slio looked up at him wi*h shining eyea.
and parted lioa, at d glowinstice — Iter grand,
impetuous young prottctor ! And never in
all her life had Kathht n loved her lordly
lover as the did in that hour.
*Oad!' Roiy crieil, swellinc with indig-
nation the niore ' e thon^^ht of it ; ' marry
you to pay your fath' r's gambling
debts, indeed I Confound his impertinence '
Confound alt their impertinences I T)o thty
think tliciiiselves Basliawhof Three Tails and
jou a little Georgian for sale? I'll go to the
cotiage this very evening and see that be-
(ott(:(! father of yours, and at;cr that I'll go
to Morgan, and, if he won't hear to reason,
I'll break his head !'
He looked quite capable of doing it, or an\
other Quixotism, thus fair-haireii, flashint;-
ey<d, hare-brained young desceiKlant of fiery
Irish kings, as he »t "0<i there in tlie twi-
light, drawn up to his superb six-foot height.
And Kathleen, glowing and up'.ifted, raised
one of his hands and kissed it.
' Dear Loitl Roderic — no t Ah ? how good
you are, how noble, how generous ! I will
never forg t vou as long as 1 live. But it is
all in vi\in — Moigan is the Shylock ; he will
have his bond, his pound of flesh — nothing
less or more. My fatlar's ruin or — my
fa'her's dai'ghter. There is no choice be-
tween.'
' The black-hearted — '
' I^rd Roiy, l;u*h I Let me fpeaV. For
you touse violence orthreats toMorgan would
only make a bad matter much worse ; for
you to plead to him is an utter impossibility.
And neither would move him in the least —
he is harder than iron, that man. My father
ia completely in his power. I alone can aave
liim, and — I wiil.'
The little alender figure drew up to ita full
height ; the starry eyea flashetl ; the ww
cheeks glowed like June roatt*. He was her
insp ration. H> r blood was up, and she waa
ready for anything now.
•But, Kathleen,' Rory cried, aghast, 'you
hate t his Morgan T'
' Then heaven ^end me a better spirit.
Wo are all unjust to Morgan. My father's
folly is to blame to him He wished to
marry me,' her head drooped and her voie.e
fell ; ' he would compel me to marry him —
true. But, Lord lioderic, he loves me !'
'My little Kathleen I'
It was all he could aay. His heart waa
fnU of pity — full of remorse — full of savage
hatred of that man. She loolied so pretty,
io sad, so fragile, and he, with ail his
strength and rask. ^as ^o t^ovprif^ss Ha
KTouatl hia teeth and slenohed bia fiat, and
thought what an nnutterable satisfaction ik
would be to punch Morgana bead.
'He lovea me, I know it — in his way,'
Kathleen went on, hurriedly, her voice fal-
tering in spite of her; 'and I — well, I may
grow to like him a little, by-and-by. If I
marry him — and I murt, I wiil be his true
and faithiiil wi:'e in word, and deed, and
thought. And, Lord Rory, after to-night, it
may be — it must tie— a long time before we
meat again ; and so I — I — will wish you joy,
you and your bride, now and — ' Her voice
choked — she stopped, covering her face witti
her Inmds. It waa the last time, and ahe
loVed him so de;irly, ao dearly 1
'Ob. Kathleen?'
'(iofd-by. Lord Rory. May the good
Lord bless you forever. And don't you
come to our cottage any more. I « ant to do
my duty — don't make that duty any harder
tiian it is now.'
'Kathleen, listen to me,' he cried, paa-
sionately. ' You ahail not marry Morgan.
I say it — I swear it 1 If he won't listen to
fair means and let me pay your iatlier'a
debts, he shall listen to foul, by — '
' Hush, my lord. No, no ! Would you
make my i>ame the country's talk? Would
you ruin my father, and disgrace me? No ;
you can do nothing — you must do nothing.
If you ever caieu for your old playmate,
lyird Rory, take her good wishes now, and
leavt) her — forever !'
She held out her hand, with a sob. Both
of hia closed over it, and there waa a hot
mist over the brilliant azure eyes.
'Kathleen— Kathleen ! what can I say — '
She interrupted him with a gesture of in-
expressible pain.
•Say nothing, do nothing, my lord; only
leave me. There is no feeling in my heart
but kindness and good-will to you. Lei
there be none in yours but some pleasant
memory of the little girl who was once your
Flaymate, Oh, my lord I it grows late, and
— I am not strong. Go, if you have any
pily, and leave me to myself.'
'Good-by, then. Kathleen, but not forever
— not for long. Tbia matter cannot, muat
not. end like this.'
He turned and left her ; it waa her wish,
and he knew Kathleen feared not the gather-
ing darkness nor the loneliness of theao
Wicklow hillsides and glens. He took hia
last l(H)k at the little drooping figure, flutter-
ing there in the windy twilight ; and who
was to tell him that the sad blue eyes would
be sealed forever, thi- sweet, l)eautiful lipa
chill in death, when he looked upon them
next?
TKm «_:i:«i.4 i.u.
moon rose round and
I
'2U
LAUV EVKLYN.
np over the purple sea. The night wind rose
with it ; and, shivering inor.- witli the cold
within than the cold of the (lututnn night,
Kathleen turned slowly to go l>,niiie, when an
impetuous voice close beside her r.uig out
with one vibratine word : 'Stay!'
She sprang round with a little cry. There
before her— dark and passionate, withdusl;y
eyes of fire, and gleaming dagger—stood tlie
betrothed wife of the man she loved. There,
on the lonely hillside, stood the high-»bin
Spanish beauty and the Irish peasant girl,
face to face.
CHAI'TKR VII.
TWO I'KOMISES.
It wa-i a starting tableau. There in the
lonesome moonlight, on the desert hillside,
the rivals imt, and there was .langer and
death in the f..ce of one. The glowing
Caslilian b( iwty wan set in rigid whitei<f>«s ;
the hrilliant Spanish eyes, that could n At
anrt prow ilewy and sweet as the eyes of a
young child, were abhize with a terrific, lurid
light now. Women of lier fierce race and
fiery blood had stabbed their base-born
rivals, without a word, for far less bclore
now. But Kathleen O'Neal was as ' plucky'
as she was< pre.ty. She recoiled a little, with
a startled face, it is true, at first sight of
this dangerous apparition, but after that she
cave no sign of fear. She understood all in
an instant,and drew herself up with as grand
an air almost as my Lady Inez hcisdf. The
blue eyes met the black ones in a clear,
steadfast, guiltless gaze.
' And you dare to look mc in the fnce, you
traitress '.' Lady Inez said, between her
clenched, pearly teeth. ' Are you not afraid
I will murder yon where you stand?'
The cloudless blue eyes never quailed—
the fair cheek blanche."; not one wliit, yet
the dark daughter of the South before her
looked quite capable of carrying out her
threat.
'Afraid, my lady?' Katli een -aid .puetly
and a little diMlaiiifully, ' No ? And I am
no traitress. T never wi ougid you, my lady,
and I am neither afraid of you nor your
dagger 1' Slie culd not. hadslie been study-
ing Tier answ.T for a liTetime, have answersd
better. The brave words, the brave eyes,
disarmed and coo'ed thepassiouateCastilian,
who admire;! courage in man or woman
above all earthly attributes.
' No, you are not afraid.' she said in a sort
of wonder, ' and yet you have reason to be.
For y<>u !i."»vc lira to imv, jtiul you n ;■,-•■"■ it.
How dare you meet my lover, my husband.
here alnnw bv niohf. «iwl hn »f«olH, if vr... 1^
not the false traitress I have called you ?
' Madam,' Katiilcen an-wered, still un-
moved. ' I meet him because he is the best,
the bravest, the noblest, tiie most generoui
of mankind, who would save his old friend
and tutor, my father, at any cost, at any
sacrifice ! He would pay his debts at he and
his father have paid them before, and save
me from a n; irri.ige with a man I ha— whoia
I do not love.'
• Aye — because he loves you himself ?'
'No, Lady Inez.' Tiie sweet voice arose,
the soft eyes grew wondrouf<ly bright. ' Ah,
Lady Inez— never poor Kathleen ! Oh, my
lady, he loves you and you alone, and it ii
no marvel, for you are beautiful as the
.Tueels. I have been his little playmate. I
am his humb'e friend— nay, more— I will
own to you who are to be iiis wife— that I
love him too I'
The Spanish beauty retreated a step ana
stood -azing in wonder at her rival, brave
beyond even her dreams of bravery ; who
faced her dagger with fearless eyes, and who
owned so heroically her hidden love.
'That you, my lady, so beautiful, so
hinli-born, should stoop to be jealous of poor
little Kathleen I cannot thi k ; hut if yoa
ever have for one single second, then you
have basely wronged your noble lover. You
have his whole heart, my lady. Oh, cherish
it as it deserves ; trust him as he trusts you,
for there is not his e<iual on earth !'
Her face looked insj)ired in her uncon-
scions eloquence. She had completely turn-
ed the tabl fS. and it was the haughty donna
who lowered her lofty crest now .
' And Lord Roderic never loved you T
You swear it?'
' I swear nothing ;but Lord Roderic never
loved me. The folly, the madness have all
been mine.' *
' Tlieii I have been grossly deceived — and
v'et, her face which had lighted laKerly,
darkened, ' it looked strangely suspicious-
it does so st 11. If what you say lie true,
my littb- one, why then does he so oppose
your marriage with this other?'
' Ah, my lady,' Kathleen pathetically said,
' we h.^ve known each other so long— will
vou not even let him be my friend ? Yoo
who are so happy may pity me— who must
wed a man I abiior. lie would save me if
he could ; would you, my Lady Inez do leM
for the p'aymate of your ycuth?'
' No !' Tlie impulsive Spanish beauty, aa
impetuous in her likes as lier hatred, flung
away her dagger, and caught both of Kath-
leen's hands. ' No, my little one— and you
shall not niarry a n'R" yon nbhor I Ah.
JjioH ! how horrible is the thought I W«
l,ill •QirA mfrt..
1„»,I .„J T 1»
LADY KVKLVJS.
XI
[ have called you ?'
an-wered, still un-
:aiisu he is the best*
, tiie most generoui
Have his old friend
any cost, at any
y his debts as he anci
m before, and save
ti a man I ha— whora
ires you himself ?'
le sweet voice arose,
idroufly bright. ' Ah,
Kathleen ! Oh, my
you alone, and it ia
re beautiful as th«
9 little playmate. I
-nay, more— I will
be iiis wife— that I
retreated a step and
at lier rival, brave
IS of bravery ; who
earless eyes, and who
■ hidden love,
y, 80 beautiful, ao
■> to be jealous of poor
t thi k ; but if you
\6 second, then you
our noble lover. You
ny lady, Oli, cherish
him as he trusts you,
lal on earth !'
)ired in her uncon«
: had completely turn-
as the haughty donna
crest now.
; never loved yout
ut Lord Roderic never
the madness have all
jrossly deceiveil — and
had lighted ( airerly,
strangely suspicious —
vhat you say be true,
len does he so oppose
is other ?'
liken pathetically said,
h other so long— ^vill
I be my frifud ? Yoo
y pity me — who must
lie would save me i{
my Lady Inez, do lew
jur yiiuth?'
live Spanish beauty, ae
es as her hatred, (lung
:1 eaiiglit both of Kath-
my little one — and you
nnn yon abhor ! Ah.
is tlie thought 1 Wo
Kathleen drew her hands away very gen-
tly, but very resolutely. She was brave to
the core, but not brave enough to endure tht
caresses of the woman Lord Hoderic Dea>
niond loved.
, ' You are very good my lady, and I thank
you, as I did him, but it may not be. You
can do nothing save give me your good
wishes. My duty lies before me — the way
may be hard, but 1 will follow it. You can
do nie but one favour, and that is — trust
your lover.'
' Until death — from this hour. But, my
little one, is there nothing I can do for you ?'
'Nothing. Farewell.'
She waved her hand and fluttered away
with the words on her lips. The lie:irt iu
her bosom lay heavy as lead, but Katlileen
had no thiiii^ht within it of self-laudation.
Less generous sacrifice h.is sotindcd it« trum-
pet before the world and called itself martyr-
dom.
Hhe sprang along in the moonlight as fleet-
ly as a young deer, and as gracefully. Her
life was at an end it seemed to her, but tlie
sharp after-pain was yet to come. Now she
felt nothing but a dumb sense of misery and
weariness — a sick loathing of herself and life.
'And I am only eighteen,' she thought,
dreai'ily, * and life is so long, so long !'
Her way was unutterably lonely ; she met
no living thing as sheapraiij^ ii/htly over the
hillocks. Wondrously lovely the silver light
?>ay on lakelet and tarn ; on brown hillside
and purple heather and shining sea. Crystal
clear and numberless the wliite stars swung
in the blue-bhick sky — calm and cloudloEs
and serene. As her cottage home came in
sight she leaned against a sycnmoie, waving
in the wind, and looked on all that hush and
beauty and peece with strangely solemn eyes
of blue.
' And what does it matter, after all V
Ka'hleen thought — 'a few years more er
less, joy or gladness, in this lower world?
It all ends in six feet of eartU — and home is
yonder. '
' Kathleen !'
A voice at her elbow spoke. 8he wheeled
quickly around. A short, tiiick-set man,
with a bull-dog face and a profusion of red
whiskers, stood beside her.
' You, Mr. Morgan ?'
■ Me, Kathleen !' he said, sullenly. The
habitual expression of his face was a mingling
ef low cunning and sullen ferocity. ' I've
come for your hanswer. '
•Slie shivered all over. Oh, Rory ! In his
bright, liest beauty he rose iMjfore her, glori-
AHa in hin yniintf. ni]|a[)!ifi(^^nf. n^Sllhoo-d US
even the Apollo of the gods ; and by her side
ttood this satyr she must wed.
' Pve been to the cottage,' Morgan sulkily
pursued, 'and I've seen your father. Hu
told me y )u werj houl with Lord Rory Des-
mond. Now, what had be to say to you, I
ehould like to know?'
' What you never will know,' Kathleen re-
plied very calmly. 'Mr. Morgan, have you
ne pity, no mercy ? Will you not spare my
father and wait ? He is very old, broken-
down man. '
' All the more reason why I should not
delay. The old fellow may go of the 'ooks
any day, and I may whistle for my money
then. But it isn't money I want, my pretty
little Irish girl— it's yon !'
She stretched out her hands with a dry,
heart-broki-n sob. ' Have pity on me ! sp >re
me I I don't love you ; I never can love
you — '
' No, ' Morgan broke in, with a fmrce gleam
of his eye and a hissing oath—' no, and you
do love this young ^onlling, with his wo-
man's face and his yellow hair. I hate him,
and I'd marry yon if only to spite him ! Say
the word, Kathleen O Neal, and say it to-
night ! Marry mc or see your old fool of a
father roi in Clontarf jail !'
She Kprar.g erect and looked at him —
looked him down, coward and bully as he
was. With her great, flashing, fearless blue
eyes.
' You ruffian ! with no respect for wom&u,
no fear of God I You know you dare not
call your craven soul your own in the
presence of Lord Roderic Decmond ! My
father sh^U never set foot in Clontarf jail,
for I will marry you — yes, if 1 loathed and
despised you ten-fold as much a< I ilo ! You
have my promise, Mr. Morgan— I will marry
yoB as soon as you like !'
She turned her hack upon him with the
last ringing, scornful words, and walked
with the mien of a young empr>.ss toward the
cottage.
The build g face of he English pettifog-
ger wore its most villainous scowl as he
watched her out of sight, ' And when you
do, mistress,' he ground out between his
bull-dog teeth, ' I'll make you pay for every
insolent word !'
Whilst the purple twilight shifted to sil-
very moonlight, Gerald Desmond stood in
the lonely glen below the Fairy *>ell and
waited. He had in an eminent degree that
one virtue which all good haters, all
thorough villains, should possess — patience.
He had learned completely wiiat so few of
us ever learn — how to wait. Where he
leaned against the moss-giown rocks, he
smoked \\\^ Oubti nnd looke'.l from unrier hi£
felt hat at the dai k-blue patch of sky. all
gemmed with crystal stars. Not of their
u
23
LADY EVKLYN.
I
tremuloui beauty was he thinking, bat of
h7. own a.tutcne«i-hoW cleverly h<. had
meshed his victims m the toils.
' Ah, n.y hauguty, handsome, <l»['^-'y'-'J
don.m/ he mus..a. ' what do yon th.aU of
your b..loved one now.
^ AUght, fleet step came swift as • yo""S
f„«n'« down the Kleu at tlie moment. He
swnnS rounda,^ beheld the Cast.han
heir"^ ^.•ea.;.g .w.ftly and light y along.
M^nna Inez !• He flunR away Ins cl.er. ot
and wJt to meet her; but the donna rs-
coiled, with a look her face had worn for
him more tliau once before. .. u.j
'You, Senor Gerald ? 1 thought yon had
'^""'kl^d'rdt you in this wild and lonely
plactby .youLlf r K.ally. L^-^y ^-^ ^^^
pay me but a poor con-pl.iiant. He la"K^e'^
Lhe ^P»'^« «n" «ff«"''^ her lusarm. She
*hrank away with a look of coht d'«'l»-. , ,
' N... seuor ; I can m«ke my way unaided.
Did not I.or.l lloderic pass you on hi. homo-
^""wulou; seeing me-yes. And you.
Ladv Inez, you heard and saw -enough .
.'L convince me that we >"'«'* ;»;^«
•pent .■nr time more pleasantly and p.'.tt.
luv than in playing the spy and .avrs-
Kper-,,.., senor 1 That he .s t ue to
JKre of h 8 brave and g.u. rous and n.,bl|
heart, and that Wf. are bns.r than the bas..t
to doubt him and dog him. He is no love*'
S Kathleen's. I have it from her own
"^.'burse the little fool !' Gerald Desmond
niutt.T.-d under his breath.
. Mv first act.' Donna Inez w"'* ''"-J "
dark eves flashing, 'wh.m 1 reach the castle
°"l be to go to Lord Iloderio, confess all
mv baseues,, and beg his paroon. That it
Zud be grant'd, I do not deserve ;
Lut he loves me. and he is great-hearted- |
''^^Trl<Mnpanion laughed-his slight, oh':!
lauKh, that always had a latent, unpleasant
.neer ' Let me%c»gratnlate you. Donna,
Inez I rejoice sincely thai we have both
been deceived, and t hnt Rovy ha. come forth
trom the onl.al by fire u,.8.nR.'d. ^ At th«
lanic time-let nie bid you g .od-by.
• Good-l.v S And why. sonor ?
. IJecausi a s.-eno, a q mnel are so very
unplea...nt. and I foresee both in prospec-
K With the best of motives. I have led
Ton into error ; .s you say. we »'ave p ayed
the fipv. and mv lordly cousin is a little of
; fi.e'e^ ter when aroused. Kory and I have
t Die t.iic ^^ ,.„t_T iini nbfurdly
S'^.fto'l^""! -Ill «>i-k-a quarrel now i
'^ 'lhe dark, disdainful .ve. of th. donn.
flashed scornfully upon hiir m t^e 'n«m^
iiht ' Yon Uke a strange way of showmg
ySr fondness, senor. Re^t Y'LVessfnT
ihall be no scene -no quarrel. ' '^""^—r^;
own faulU;It.llno tales "f other. My
lord shall never know rom me that th*.
friend he trusts, the km.man he loxc,
strove to betray him.
' J)oniia Inez !' .,, „_,»-
< Enough. Senor Gerald. NVe ^ll ^*"^
no words^li this subject I th;"^,f 'f.^.
ni^rht I Shall understand you thoio >ghl>.
ShfwL^d him down wi;h the impenou.
grace of an insulted empress, and -^^ .^*
to tleetlv that it w;.s .ib he co.iM do, witn
^. long' mail's strides, to k.ep up with
!-• Not a. tiicr word was ex-
Gerald. Where Iwd they gone?
So swept in as he stood there alone n
den c Jerp^ex.ty, her dark Cast- ban lovel.-
o^»« afflow the Spanish eyes brilliant at
sUvs The .'ich. black hair falling loo.e and
I „ 4k« flutiii off her mantilla andcrofied
Sto wher hr.too<l. claspeu both hand,
round his arm. and looked up in bisfac
w h w<mdrou. shinii.R eyes of spl-''^"";-
'My Lord '. my love I cw you over for-
give me V
■aT' no kisses, no carewe^ nntil yo«
know 1 ow low I have fullon. how unwor hy
Janr Lord Roderic. I have been playmg
i '''^ En me T It flashed upon him at onoi
_the'^utT. She h,ad suspected-had fol-
lowed— had seen him meet Kathleen.
*Upon von. my lord, base wretch that I
' am Vl donbted-I followed you ; saw
. vou meet her out yond. r. Ah, my lorn, we
rn^Hian8 run fire in our veins, not blood I
i I wa rd.T hink : I could have slam yoa
Lthwher; you stood But I waited uutd
' you left, and th n—
He gave a groat cry, held her from him.
• Inez ! you have not injured her T
'No. my lord. Yet who knows what I
mij,htha/edo.,e? I have not u-jured UT,
au«l she has told me all.
i • AH What has she told yoa, IneeT
' How good you are-how grcat-ah wy
lord, I ne'ver foved yon « I £« to-night^ 1-
how you w.mlusavc ncr :r.-.ti-T . ~ -
all how yon nevi-p, never loved her I
JpoorlittU Kathl««n' 'rn«r- w-
LADY EVELYN.
23
hiir in the inoo«-
iDKe way of •howmf
Ke^t ca«y ; there
arrt'l. I confete my
kles of others. My
Irom me th»t t\\^
kuisinan he lovoi.
Id. We will waste
Bt. I think after to-
1(1 you thoro (fhly.'
wi^h the imperioui
npreas, aiul Hped o»
l,e coiil.l ilo, with
, t<^ ktep up with
word wM eX'
ioikI ground liin teeth
tde-r' A« the beet
ii.urtily.hehaiUUked
r, loiiR. old-fas ioned
very mystified face,
houae — neither w«»
ley gone ?
stood there alone in
lark Cast'han loveli-
ish evea brilliant M
hair fallinir looac and
r mantilla and crossed
1, claspeil both haudi
looked up in his fac«
I eyes of spl«>ndour.
e I can you over for-
care««eti, tin til yon
fuUen, how unwor hy
), I have been playmg
shed upon him at on«i
1 suspected— had fol-
meet Kathleen.
•d, base wretch that I
followed you ; 1 saw
,dt r. Ah, roy lord, w«
our veins, not blood I
I could have slain yott
1 But I waited uutil
»
y, held her from him.
lot injured her ?'
et who knows what I
I have not ii.jured uer»
uU."
9he told yon, Inea?"
tre— how great— ah, my
you as I do to-night !--
never loved her !'
Iitnan ' Tnwr*
than pity in h s voice. He knew that all
the greatness was hers, not his.
' My lord, can you forgive Inei I It was
eowardly, it was i)<nohle to do it ; but, ah.
heaven ! I thought I had lost you, and 1
love you better t;uiH my life.'
' Forgive is no word between ns, my darl-
ing. But you did nie a cruel wrong when
you doubted me. She is my little friend ;
you, my love are tlie iight of my life. And
Gerald, Inez— was he with you, too ?'
' Sen iriJcrald is out yonder on the terrace
smoking,' slie said hurriedly and with a ner-
vous little laugh. 'He is always smokinjr,
is he not? Then lam pardoned, my lord,
fieelv and fully ?'
' Out of niv lieart, my darling.'
Gerald Desmond, standing unobserved in
the d orway.eaw that picture -saw liim fold
her III Ills arms (.nd kiss th<j lips tliat curved
so disdainfully for him. The oath he hissed
was (ground in his clenched teeth.
' O.io swallow does not make a spring —
one mistake does not make a f.iilure. I
have swurn to win and I will wiu.'i.y uli that
is et>rnal I Enibtaced ymr l^trothod, Rode-
rio Desmond ; you will never embrace her as
your wif ■ ).'
CHAPTER Vin.
'IN THE QUEKS'8 NAUX.*
0.1 the very outskirts of tiie great Clontarf
es*!>tc there run a wide bjunUary streank,
swiillen in the spring-tide rains to the widtli
of a brawling river. It w.-w a f imous place
for aiiglei-8, anil its lonelinesji was often in-
vaded by the d seiplos of the hook and line.
It was very lonely, lying l>etween high, rag-
ji;d banks ; elms and sycamores waving
their j<r«-en arms across its crystal waters,
and only the thrush and the blackbird to
wliiatk' their 8on>;8 in the stillness, tbi; suni-
mt-r <lay long. The hush of a warm noon-
tide lay over the eartii as Lord Rotlcric Dee-
mond, in easy fishing costume, lounged
down the steep bank and flung himself on
the yielding m 'Ss. Ue hail come for an
afternoon's sport. The light of his exist-
ence—the dark-ey< d douaa— had gone on a
visit with Lady Sarah, and w'thout her the
old c.i^tle was dull as death. Genild was
busv with the earl overlooking the muddled
accuuu a oi Clontarf ; and left to his i/vrn
d vices Rory had sauntered here. In the
ple,i»ant days gone by ho would have sought
the cottage and giy fittle Kathleen for corn-
puny and consolation ; but that was out of
iiic (|u.i»tioii TGr tnc liitarc.
halcyon days gone by when we rnled the
green island and liad power to order the
Sausenach dog^ out into a court-yard, with-
out leave of jidge or jury, and hang them
high as Haman I If those pleasant davi*
would but return, and I had the ordering of
Mr. Morgan's fate.'
He looked gloomily down the stream,
thinking how the mighty were fallen since
thobe dnys of yore. An instant later and h«
had leaped up with a bourn' and an exclama-
tion ; for there before him floated on the
placid water the most terrible ol>j ct niooii-
liglit or bunlight can shine on— an nptnined
dead face. It was tiie face of a woman; he
could see that by the flo-iting dress :<jtd the
long bright hair. The fentu cs n d r the
glimmermg water lie could not cluaily ilia-
ctrn. He stood for one instant ot liine up-
pa'iled — tlieu, viith the 'ight leap of a young
s;ag. he was iu the water, and holding the
drowning body in his left arm struck out
with tlie right for the sliore. He drew his
lifeless burden up on the turfy l.Mink, shook
him-telf like a dripping Triton, uiid looked
down upon the tace 1} iug so still aud white
on th" g a-s.
'Oh. (Jod ! Kiithleenl*
His cry went clioing down the de8o4<kt«
glen, liigli and shrill ; for there beforn him,
marble white, marble cold- -drowned —lay
Kathleen O'Neal 1
His cry was echoed. Whilst he 8tf>od
aliove her the bruncln-s liad leaned, and two
j bearded faces looked down upon him. With
a ter'.il>le shout — more like tlie roar of a n ild
beast than a human cry of ctief — one of the
I men leaped down upon aud seized him by
j the throat.
i 'Murderer! caught red-hnnded ! Yon
I have ended your victim at last !'
I Rory Desmond had the strength, llie
! sinew, the science of a young gladiator. lie-
i fore the words weie well htt red, hisaggrea-
, sor went down like a bullock, btforo one
I seieiititjc lung 'from the shoulder.'
I ' Who a e you? Ah,' with iiietfable dis-
! dain ; ' Morifan, the attorney. Have you
: murderoi! her, that you know so well where
! to Cvme to look for the body ?'
i Moi gin gathered himself up, livid with
I rage aud fear ajid fury, bleeding from a
broken nose, and shook his fist, with a
ferocious glare at the sleiuhr young ori.-<to-
crat. I accuse yju. Lord Rodcrlc Desmond,
and your rank shall not save you. Mind,
O'Moore — we caught him in the act.'
'Of rcFkying the Ixidy from the fitthea —
yes,' said the town constftble bluntly.
■ n.'ia;!: year nirty pr."ite, Xti'TA-. "I'^iiicy,
I'cxir little Kaililetin' lie thought regret- an' don't be accusin yer betttrs. Oh. the
(uUv ; ' how is it with her now 7 Oh, for th* purly darlin' I Troth Lord Rory, it's athous-
24
LAU^ KVKLVW.
I
O'Monre. nnfto
that I tl n t
lieraell. N\ i I
or maybe it's
afore us ami
man. Shuvc if
the
Mid pities, so 'tis ! Hovr did you light on
tho body at all ?•
' 1 came litre to fl»h.'Rnry answerod, «o
lost ill grief and amaze and horror that he
■carcelv knew what ho had said, 'and saw
her Coating. Great heaven, who could have
done this?'
'Herself, maybe,' suggested .Moore.
' Faix I've known them to do t often m the
town bey ant.' . . , . t.t m
' Kathleen commit suicide ? Never. Ihere
has bticu foul inur<ler done here, and the
murderer shall be hunted down, by the light
above us !' „ , , », m
His firry blue eyes flashed on Morgan. The
Cockn'ffy attorney returned the look with
one of bitter hatred.
' He shall ! and shall hang like a dog
were he tlie highest in the lai.d t Hqre,
O'Moore, let uh prepare a hurdle and l)ear
the poor girl's body to her father's house.
She was to have been my wife in a month —
onlv three mghta ago she gave me her
'id ohe, now?' said
voce. 'Then by thij and
wonder she drowned
you bear a hand, my lord ?
better for you to run away
break the "news to the ould ^
he was twice as b.ad with the gamblin ,
divilmighOpity him now.'
' I will e3,' Hory said ; ' poor old Nea
—yes. You can i r pare the liurdle and
convey the body without me.'
He strode away. Morgan looked after him
with eyes full of lurid hatred and rage
•Curse him !' ho njuttered— ' curse him, the
dainty-limned aristocrat ! He is her betrayer
and her murderei. and I'll have my venge-
knce on him tliough he were the son of our
queen, instead of a beggarly Irish earl. _
' Arrah 1 is it his prayers he's muttenn
there T* cried the constable impatiently.
• L'ave oflr man and give us a han' here wid
the hurdle. Av yer giving yer curse to
Lord Rorv, may it come back hot and heavy
on yfirself— ye dirty ^^nglish blaggard 1 ^
The last words were muttered inO Moore 9
throat. Like all ths rest of his order he had
but little love for the beetle-browed, flinty-
cheeked London pettifogger. Like Ishmael
of old he seemed to have been born with his
hand against every man »nd evei7 man's
hand agiinst him. They bore the body
home. 'Ill news flies apice.' Before they
reached the cottage it was known through-
out the town and the villsge that bonnie
Katiileen, the brightcsil and prettiest oi an
the bricht, pretty peasant girls had been
found colli and dead in the rapid river.
Aud old O'Neal had heard, and had fallen
down among them, with a preat cry. in an
epileptic Ht. Oirald Desmond looked with
a strangely startled and eager glance into
his couKin's face when he first heard the
tele. Then he turned away with a long,
low. inaudible voice.
' The dead tell no tales. Some one la tha
better for her being out of the way ; and
yet— poor little Kathleen !'
The donna looked up with her j^reat,
dilated dark eyes. Rory turned hotly upon
him. <-. ij I
' What do you mean ? Speak out, i>»erald I
You suspect some one.'
' I do, my Roderigo ! It is a lawyer a
forte— suspicion. Excuse my speaking oi^
just at present— I'll wait, I think, untd af-
ter till- inquest.' ^ • , ^ .^
He sauntered away, and went s traig.it to
the cottage. But it was full, and wild,
wailing cries, unutterably blood -i-urdling,
rang out in the starry twilight. Tne Lon-
don ban ister shrugged his aliouldera.
' The wild Irish women keening ever their
dead. Where's Attorney Morgan ? he asked
O'Moore, the constable, keeping some sort
of order among the riotous, excited mob
about the cottage.
' Sorra one o' me knows, Misther Uerala.
He helped to convey the poor girleen— God
be good to her '.—home ; and— Arrah, yo
divils, will ye Stan' back. ^ Don't ye see it •
full now as it can hould ?'
Gerald turned away. In the distance ho
spied Morgan standing gloomily alone. Ho
went up and laid hi» hand on his arm. Tho
man raised his sullen, bloodshot eyea to hu
face, with a questioning glare.
' My good fellow,' Gerald Deitnond said,
in his'lighteat tone, ' you have more oourago
than I gave you credit for. But it was •
rash thing to do.' . , ...
' What do you mean ? Morgan cried with
a hoarse oath, shaking him off. ^
' Only this, you beetle-browed dog ! an-
swered the lawyer, transfixing him with a
vivid look ; ' that I was on the river bank
thi« morning at tftt o'clock. You diil not see
me ? No ; I was Iving among the aldera
and willows— yon did not see roe ; you
miserable, black-hearted cut-throat ; but—I
—saw -you /' . • .u
The face of the attorney turned in tho
gloaminst to the awful, leaden, livid hue of
a corpse. A terrible black-thorn cudgel lay
at his feet ; he picked it up aud turned upon
the speaker with the glare of a man tiger.
* Ah, hah !' Gerald Desmond aaid in a
_-; ( :..4..»..n.ol.lm anni-n . • TlrcT* it. von
fool 1 Yes, I saw you, and I could hang
fou aa dead as a mackerel, if I ohoae. But
don't choose, you cowardly cur, bfoauM
LADY EVELYN.
25
fith a great cry, in an
Detniond looked with
and eager glance into
hen he first heard the
•d away with a long,
talps. Some one is tha
out of the way ; and
iltflii !'
1 up with her great,
Rory turned hotly upon
in ? Speak out, Gerald I
igo ! It is a lawyer's
xcHse my speaking oat
wait, I think, until af-
y, and went straight to
was full, and wild,
;terably bloodmirdling,
rry twilight, Tiie Lon-
ed his ahoulders.
omen keening ever their
jrney Morgan ? he asked
ale, keeping some sorl
le riotous, excited mob
knows, Misther Gerald,
y the poor girleen — God
lome ; and— Arrah, y*
hack. Don't ye sec it'a
lUl.l ?'
ay. In the distance h»
ng gloomily alone. H«
( hand on his arm. Tha
n. bloodfjtiot eyes to hia
ning glare.
,' Geralfi Desmond said,
' vou have more couraga
>dit for. But it was a
ean ?' Morgan cried with
ing him off.
beetle-browed dog !' an-
transfixing him with a
'. was on the river bank
'clock. You did not see
ving among the alders
did not see me ; you
arted cut-throat ; but — /
attorney turned in the
nrful. leaden, livid hue of
le black-thorn cudgel lay
ed it up and turned upon
he glare of a man tiger.
lid Desmond said in a
!i!s aoftrn : ' J)T«t* it-, you
you, and I could hang
nackerel, if I chose. But
1 cowardly cur, bfoauta
there is some one in Clontarf I hate «ven
more than I despite yi>u. and that it saying
a g<-od deal. Come down with rre to the
thore beluw— I've a word or two for your
private ear. Faugh ! you hangdog ! that
Tllainons face of yours will hang you yet,
in «pit« of you !'
Tiio Englishman cowered before him— the
■corn of his bitter words, the laah of his
scornful eyes— as a whipped cur before its
master. Like a hound he followed at his
heel* down to the lonely sea-shore, where
ttiR washing waves and swinging stars alone
tnicbt see or hear.
" « • • • • •
The inqmst was over. A dozen stolid
jurymen had brouglit in a verdict of
• Found Drowned ' — a safe verdict surely,
to which no exception could be taken, ex-
cept perhaps on the score of originality.
And they buned pretty Kathleen, and the
women went chanting their wi d Irish keen
over the hills to the lonely chapel-yard, and
there was sorrow, deep and true, in many
a lowly heart.
- ' Found Droirned !' that was all ; but —
people began to talk. Slowly whispers
arose and circulated and grew a« thisy wont,
and dark looks and ominous faces turned
in one direction. Lord Rory hail been
her lover— all Clontarf knew that, or
thought they knew it— and — Lord Rory
had been a villain. There were secrets that
death alone could hide, and — death
had hidden them. The fair, proud
t panish beauty and heiress had been
jealous of the lost girl— no one else in the
wide world could wish the death of bright
little Kathleen. And she had not committed
suicide— every one felt sure of that Lord
Rory had been found betide her dead l)o<ly,
pale and wild. All hat day he had been
absent from the castle — whither no one
knew ; and from early morning Kathleen,
too, had been gone from the cottage. The
whispers rose and swe'led, and did their
work in the dark ; and at last a little cir-
cumstance occurred that turned the suspici-
ons to certainty.
A note was found— hidden away in a litle
box in Kathleen's room— a note in Lord
Roderic's hand, with these brief worda :
• Kathlkbn ; Meet me to-day at ten
o'clock, by the aider trees on the boundary
stream. Do not fail ; it is lite or death I R.'
On the evening of the day upon which the
Bot« wa« / ..nd the Earl of Clontarf enter-
tained a few friends atr dinner. It was nigh
Christmas time now, and the wintry winds
howled about the old castle, and the yule
blaze leaped high in the hnge chimneys.
Lady Sarah presided at her brother's table,
and very fair and stately looked the Castili-
an heiress, in her black velvet robes, with
all her rich luxuriant hair falling adorned
and unbound. Rory sat beside her, very
happy in the light of her lovely eyes, in
spite of the sharp pane that smote his heart
whenever he thought of luMt Kathleen. The
ladies had gone to the drawing-room, and he
was wailing impatiiiutly to follow, when a
servant entered and announr ed that BherifF
French wished at once to see him.
* To see me ?' repeated Rory. ' What can
the sheriff wish to see me tor ? Sena him in,
Mike.'
The sheiiff of the town entered— very pale
yfry grave.
' Well, French,' ' Rory said, advancing to
meet him. 'nothing private, I hope? What
IS it?'
' A very painful duty, my lord — not pri-
va'e, I regiet to say. Lord Ro'leric Des-
mond' — his hand fell heavily on the young
man's shoulder ' y^u are my prisoner. '
With a siniultanfous cry every man
sprang to his teet. For Rory, he stood an
instant astounded ; then, with a backward
bonnd, he shook off the sheriff and eeirt him
reeling. ' Arrest me ! What do yon vnian ?'
'I am very sorry, my lord, ijut ducv must
be done. Hera is my warrant. I arrest yon
in the queen's name for th«i wilful murder of
Kathleen O'Neal!'
CHAPTER IX.
THB CRIUB or JD1>AH.
A tempestnons April night — a wild and
dangerous night down there on the Wicklow
coast. A howling win.l raged, sheets of rain
swept over the sea, and the lightning leaped
out in fiery flashes. A terrible night when
not even a homeless dog altroad in the de>
serted streets of the town.
' Sure it's God'c anger on thiin that swors
his life away this day,' muttered more than
one awe-struck peasant, cowering before the
blue leap of the lightning, the deafening
crash of the thunder. ' He's as innocent as
the babe unborn. Lord Rory wouldn't hurt
a fly ; an' sure I've known since he was a
wee yalla-haired, langhin' gossoon, no higher
than that And now they say they'll hang
him. Oh, wirra, wirra I Bad luck this
night and forevermore to that perjured divil
Morgan, the 'torney, I pray,'
He sat alone he upon whose head hun.
dreds of curses, heavy and hot, had fallen to-
day. He sat alone in the dreary little par-
1 mr of his house listening to the ts-emeadoos
S6
LADY EVELYN.
I
vprxar of tlie wind and »ir nnd »eft. Hi« one
serviint had long ngoj^une t) r«Mt ; tlie cloik
npoii the mantel pointed lo half-paat twelve.
Tli« (itonny Apr 1 nijiht was cold and thi?
room wn-^ chill. P<.ihnpH that wai what
nmdn Morgan's t.etli emitter in his head
and his face looked jrhaMtly and bine nn*
pinched inthediiU li -htcfone tallow candle.
The fire ha.l sinonldenil itself to black ashea
and the iliill, nnnnuffed candle spnt iredai.d
flared in imiumerahle dnuij^hts. He isat in a
IcatliiTn arui-clinir Wsido the table, his el-
bows re tinp on his Uneis. his red-stnbhled
chin liitwpc n his lioriiv pi'nis, his sunken
blootMiot eyes i.di.rit'g v. ith aWi:l viicmoy
in the b'nd-eninireniliers. A bottle of brandy
and .-v liinil.I-r ftootl lit his »'lliow. He had
been dii Uhl' henvily. but tlie'-e was tl«t
within him I hit i endoi « il h' tiery liqni 1 impo-
tent ns water. He had croncbid there in
that poR ti n f r bonrs, his only movement
when he filled his g'ass with brnn.iy and
drained it, or lifted his hollow, haigurd
eyes to the clock. He cowered tiiere listen-
U1K to the storm beatiiiff like .a tinman thinR
in rage and paiu at the closed wi-idow» and
dooi 8.
' Is there n God ?' Mortran thought, a cola
dew standing on his piiUitl face, * and ii it
His angry voice I hear in the st rm to-
ni'-'bt ? Is there a hell, and is there a pit in
all its horrors deep eiiouirh for me ?'
A pnperlay at hin teet ; fie picked it up
and 4;l»i!ced with astiange faaeination at
one particular heading :
• Conclusion of the Trial of Lord Rfderic
Dfsmond for the Mnrdir of Kathlen
O'Neal— The Evidence— Tlie Verdict— The
Sentence.'
The letterg swam in a bloodred mist be-
fore his eyes. Here and there he missed a
worl. a line, a whole jwr.ngraph. Tlie paper
contained but a bii.f mmmaiy of t'le tri^d.
His eyes went mechanically, over the famil-
iar liii 8. , • .
'Perliaps' sai'I the paper, 'within the
memory of ni.an our town has never been so
convnbed witii astoiiishmeiit anil horror ns
it has been by the late murder and sub-
eeqnent arrest. Tiie deceased, Kathleen
ONe.il, was 80 we'll known, so nniversally
beloved, so fair, so vonng.so full of piomiso,
that her sad, untimely end has pent a thri 1
(>f giief nnd disniny to the coldeBt heart.
Theaaincinay be said of the piisuner. Hinh-
biirii, lieloved by all wiio knew him, the
;..j>>,tieKt of hiunnn cT.afures. it stenied im-
possible to connect his lanie with that of
muider. And yet he has been found t'uiltv.
Heeuttrud the crow de<l court-room to-day
with hit nsnal daantlesa. hanghty mannen
He hasfr-rowu extremely pale and thin, bal
his eagle's eye glanced over the crowd with
all the priile anti fire of his proud and fiery
race. "Not guilty I" he responded, in a
voice tliat rang clear and liigh. and from tha
time he took liih seat within the dock until
the time he wa* led away, his face never
betray" d one trace of any emotion whattvor.
Even when the verdict was returned, not •
muscle movd ; even when he stood up and
listened to the solemn sentence of death tha
marble-liUe riijidity of hif conclusion with
the calm, courtly j;race of a piince— the •«!•
unmoved person in the whole a»f,enibly.
'Only once did he bitray any emotion—
when the Lady Inea d'Alvarez fell fainting
from her seat— and even then it wi's but mo-
mentary. As he was being led lack to
p; ison, he turned to his friend Sir Owc«
Viiruerald, and held out hin hand. " Can
you take it ?" he said with a smile. " It i«
the hand of a convicted felon. The I)e».
monds have gone to death with "AH is lost
except honour ' .ui their lips. With me, all
La lost, even honour. Farewell Owen. Don**
come to see .lie ; only remember— «<ni») day
yon will know I was innocent !' The evid-
ence was purely ciicuiLtUntiai, but very
crushini— espcci.diy that of William Mor»
gaii. We nive a bi ief Byn"pi«is.
'Testimony of William M^ri^an :
'I am an Englishman by \t'-'^h, an attor-
ney by profession, ar.d a resident, by
choiee, of this town for the past five yeara,
1 knew the dece.iaed well . she was my be-
troihcd wife. We were to be marr.ed in a
month, with the consent an.i approval of hel
father. 1 loved her dearly, bnt I have every
reason to believe aiie did not love me. Lord
Uoileric Desmond was her lover — a fact well
kuowi) — and I have it from her own lipa
that he more than oiu'e promised her m»r-
riajje. Bnt from his first mocMnp with the
Lady Inez d'Alvarez 1 e nej;lected Kathleen.
I piessed my suit— she r. jocted it, and failed
away ton sliadow. Then came the news of
th- < ni;:igenient (f Lord Rodenc and the
Laiiv Inez. It w.-is 1 WHO told her, and she
fell backward— I ol fainting but very near it
—in h r seat. Then fche stiti ted wildly up.
"He will not 1 he drre not !" she cried ;
" lie cduld not be fo base a villain ! I am
to be his wife — he has sworn it — and— oh,
what will become of lue if fails U> keep hia
word ? ' I pacified her as well as I coidd,
but she broke away from me, and ran in an
liy^t rical state to her room. 1 did not see
li r ayain for some days ; she shunned me
perstalently. One evening, a iiitie before
dusk, stioUinp among the hills, I came near
the spot called tht Fairy Well There I
iiAUY KVKiiVM.
37
tm. htnghty mivDnnv
ly pale and thin, lint
over the crowd with
i)f hii prouil »u<l fiery
" he ro.-p"iide«l, in a
nd ImrIi, »nd from th«
witiiiii the dock until
away, hi/» fao« never
my emotion whattver,
t WM returiicd, not •
when he utood up and
•entenee of deatli th«
hii' conoUision » ith
e of a pi ince — th« aula
9 whole B»f>end)ly.
bi'tniy any emotion—
d'Alvarez fell fainting
en I hen it wi-a but mo-
8 being led back to
his friend Sir Owc»
out hit hand. " Can
with a smile. " It im
ctt.l f«lon. The I)e».
fath with " All is losi
eiv lips. With me, all
Farv well Owen. Don**
remenibir— «' me day
innocent !' The evicl-
icu'nstantial, but very
that of William Mor«
f synapsis,
liam M< rirnn ;
lan by b=-'*V;, an attOT.
ai'.d a resitlfn', by
For the past five yiara,
well . she was my !)•-
vere to be man .ed in a
ent iinil uppioval of hef
cnrly, but 1 have every
did not love nie. Lord
» her lover — a fact well
it from her own lipa
n:;e premised her mMT-
first meoMni' witii the
l.e ncj;lected Kathleen.
>e ri jcotrd it, and failed
J'lien cnnie the news ot
I^rd Rolenc and the
1 wiio toht her, and she
iiintinji but very near it
(>lie 8t;irted wildly up.
fif.re not !" she cried ;
) base a villain I I am
las sworn it — and — oh,
■ H>e if fails to kefp hie
her as veil as I cunld,
fioni nie, and nui in an
( r room. 1 did nfit see
days ; she shunned me
evening, a little before
ig the bills, I cnnie neaf
i Fairy Well Tiiore I
ripied the pri«oner and the deceaaed, con-
T.;i»iii^ very earnestly. She seemed to be
ue niuc— to be pleading passinnately— hie
fiothinf and reasoning with her. I heard
n )thing they eaid j I wai angry and
jealous, and quitted the place. About
an an hour after, as I stood alone near the
eotbige of Neal, Katliben came rapidly I
aloDK. Her face was pale, her eyes red — I
■he aeemeil to have been weeping. I called |
b r, and she stopped ; I askud her what
Lord Itodoric had said to her, and she ans-
wered me, " 1 would never know." I told
her I loved her, and would endure this sus-
pense no longer. She niu»t either 6uy yes or
no, new and forever ; slie said yes, without
a m»meiit's hesitttion? Her own words
weie, "I will mniry you whenever yon like."
Then she left me and entered the cott.ige.
I did not follow her that nigl.t ; I came over
next day and all was arr luged. We were to
be married in a month. Sho conKented to
everything I proposed, but she said little ;
•he 1 >okea very gloomy indeed. Business
kepi me so occupied during the next two
day* that I fon:id no ^isuie to visit her.
Early on the morning of the tldrd day I
•tarteil for the cottAKC, n y way leading pnst
llie boundary stream. It is a solitary spot,
•o that I was rather surprised when I heard
voices on the opposite bank. I looked
across, and saw aniuug the alders the .Igures
ef a man and woman. I recognized the voice
of K<iihie<'n, raised high and shtill at times
— aKiiin broUen and low. The words I could
BOt uatoli. The man's face wa» hidden, bu'.
I felt p(«itive it was Lord Rodtriu's. I
aonld not cross the stream conveniently to
confront them ; besidis I knew what a fi roe
reck!e-R temper Lord Roderic's was at times.
I pissed on my way, very ill pi ased, deter-
nniicd to A'vuit Kathleen at the cottage and
demand an explanation. I found Neal m,
anil alone — did not know where his daughter
was — said she had been gone over an hour.
I waited, hut whe never returned. As noon
drew near I started up, determined tn go in
search of her. On my way I met O'Mooro
the constable, and asked him to accompany
me. I had a presentment of something evil,
I tliiiik. We went to the spot where I had
seen them together, but they were not there.
Just then we haprd a sort ><t cry or groan
fuither down ; we dashed tlirougli the trees
and the first sight we saw was the prisoner
i bi'iidini; over the boily of the deceased. She
Was qiitedead. He looked confounded —
[stunned ; I cannot ile.icribu his lo' k. I tax-
ied him with th ' murder at once, and his
I. _ i,. !...„..:, .,,„ .1,,™... n>\f..or<.
^Hanked him to g ' to tlie cottage an<l apprise
r
* 0' Moore was callei, and corrMKirated the
teatimouy of the last witness. Being quea-
tioned aa to why he had not told this at the
inquest, Mortran said he could not swear
poeitively that the man he saw talking t«
her was Lord Roderic Desmond , he waa
only morally certain until the discovery of
his note, appointing the meeting, placed th*
matt4T l>eyond douot.
'Testimony of Hugh O'Neal ;
' •' Deceased was my daughter. Lord
R'-deric Desmond and she had b^en play-
mates from earliest childhood — lovers, I do
believe, in later veara. I know my daugh er
loveil him. and 1 know that until the arrival
of I^ady Inez he spent nearly half of hia time
at my place. Then he left off coming, aad
very soon we heard he was ent; iged to be
married to the Spanish lady. My daughter
took the news very much to heart ; ahe
would not linten to the proposal of Mr. Mor-
gan, who wished to make her hia wife. On
the day of her death, ahe left the house abont
nine o'clock in tli« morning, raying ahe waa
fjiing for a walk. I never aaw ter again
until I saw her carried in dead. Morgan
oaine abfiu half -past ten or eleven, and ask
for her, waited awhile, and then left, s.aying
he would go in aciarch of her. I^ord Roderic
came about two o'clock, looking very pale
and excited, and told mo he had found Kath-
leen drowned— her body floating on the
boundary atroam. Morgan and O'Moore
carried her home. Three weeks alter tlie
inquest, rummaging among her things, I
found a note hidden away in her room, in
the writing of the prisoner, appointiiga
meotint; at the boundary stream at lOo'tl jck.
I cm swear to the prisoner'a hand-writing —
it wa» 1 who tauglit him to write. I an
firmly convinced iZ was to that appointment
she went, and met her death. Sue waa in-
capable of comini'ting sniride." '
■ 'Te timony of Gerald Desmond :
' '• My cousin Rodenc and 1 pai-ted early
on the morning of the 18th of November.
Ht" said he was going fi.sliing, and I was oc-
cupied iie.irly all day witli my uncle the
Earl of Clontarf, looking over accounts, in
his study. The prisoner quitted the castle
about half-past nine. It would take fully
half an hour to reach the biundry stream.
I saw liiin next late in the afternoon. He
came home looking pale i, wild, and t<dd
us he 'ad discoverecl the dea'i bo<lv of Kath-
leen O'Neal in the boundary stream, whither
he had gone to Gsh. He seemed very agi«
tated, very 5xcit«!d, but I thought that
natural ; he and Kathleen had been old
^■■■aiirln t/^>«Tu«<a *\^«*li«*\«i in m I\/i«» an<t
girl way, in the pas*. The deceased
|uved him passionately, I know. I alao
28
LADY KVKLYN
know Hhe waa intenaely jealoua, and
once, ill my hearinn, tliri-atened to
go up to tho caatle ami compel tlie Lady Ines
} reaign all rixlit to Iter lover. "He was
mine before lie wnB hnra !' were her wordi.
•' He Bliall never marry her ! I could break
off the match to-moi row if Hiked."! tlimight
the words but the empty threat* of excite-
ment, at the time, and paid no attention to
theni. I do remember lialf-!angiiinj{ly put>
tin|{ Rory on hiR guird, and he looked more
■e louttly uneasy than I had thought it
Eaasible for him to look on suoh a matter,
aily Inez was very proud — a whisper of in-
fidelity and she would have broken with him
at once. The witness knew his cousin's
handwriting. Ves— this note was bis— he
could swear to it. '
' As Mr. (ierald Desmond descended from
the witness stand,' said the paper, 'tho
prisoner looked at him with a lonv;, steady,
reproachful gaze. "And thou, Hrutus •' he
■aid ; but Mr. I)e<>mon(l seemed very much
aflfected and shrank from that fixed look.
He had given his evidence with the utmost
reluctance throughout.
The jury was g. iie some hours. The ver-
dict was "(Juilty."
•When asked if he had any reason to show
why seiitenco of death should not be pro.
nouiiced upon him, the prisoner answered,
very pale but very firmly :
'Only this, my lord- that I am innocent,
and will die condemned on circumstantial
evidence, as many an accused man has
done befoi me. That note is an arrant
forgery. 1 never saw Kathleen O'Neal on
that day, nor expected to see her, until I
beheld her floating in tho stream. I accuse
Morgan, the attorney, of gosa perjury. He
never heard or saw me talk'ng to her on
that day. She has been foully murdered,
and may the great God above confound her
murderers and avenge her cruel dsath. For
me — I loved Kathleen as a sister — I would
have <liud sooner than harm a hair of her
head."
'The Judge arose and solemnly pronounced
the sentence of death. On the third of May
the prisoner will be hanged in front of Clon-
tarf Jail The deepest sympathy is felt
everywhere for his noble father and the
young lady so soon to have been his bride.
The prisoner was universally beloved. Stronjt
men wept like children when he was borne
away. The murder, the trial and the im-
pending doom have thrown a deep gloom
over the whole community.'
The paper dropped from the reader's hand.
He bowed his face in his hands with a hollow
froAii.
'Will I ever forget his face?' he said
huskily. 'The look in his eyea aa he turn«4
them upon me last, will haunt me to my
dying day. And she— that last, apward
look as she fell backward into the river I
Oh, Ood ! it will drive me mad !'
The clock struck one. Befora ita one
faint chime die<l away there came a 'ow,
cautious knock at the house door. Morgan
started to his feet.
' Tis he !' he mut'ered ' I had torgotten
him. Ah, among all the dwellers in tha
regions infe nal is there another half eo
deeply ilamned as ho— this second Iscariot
— letraying with a kiss?'
The knock was repeated. The Knglish-
man arose, the candle in his shaking hand,
and walked to the door. As lie unlocked
and threw it open a man inuffli'd in a great*
coat and a slonohed nat, came in, dripping
like a water dog.
' At last, my man I I give you my word I
thought you had fallen asleip. A sound
digestion and an easy conscience always
insure speedy slunilier. Beastly night it is
but all the better for me. Come in out oi
t>'i is drafty passage? and let's sit conifu«t>
ably down.'
He jerked the flaring dip out of ihe hand
of the pallid attorney, and led the way,
«ith long strides, into the cheerless room.
He unbuttoned and flunj back bis great co it
threw his 8l.)uched hat i side, and stood re-
vealeil in the du!l glovv— Gerald Desmond.
' Your reception room .ooka dull. like your*
self, my dear friend. Still, it's better than
the condemned cell in Olontarf jail, with tha
gallows and the hangman in pro?peotive.
Ah, my beauteous, brilliant Lord Rory, how
is it with you now ?'
He lay back in his chair, his legs, cased
in waterproof toy-boots, outstretched ; hit
sallow face flushed ; his light-blue eyea
gleamin<< with the Ould light of aapphira
stonei',
' Sii tnee down, my Guillaume, and never
look so pals ! You'd do for the Ghost in
" Hamlet," without any pearl powder,
on:y you're too hangdog-looking for any
honest ghost. Sit down and don't look m>
like the first murderer in & tragedy, if you
can help it. '
* I can't help it !' Morgan cried with a
bitter groan, • I feel as thcMigb I were going
mad ! Listen to that srorni,GeraldDe8T)oiid!
look at th t lightning ! Is it not the wrath
ot heaven on us for the double murder done?'
•My good fellow speak for yourself. I'va
done no murder— never mean to, if I can
help it. A clever villain — and I pride my.
self at Iwing at the top of the profeasiop— .
never breaks law. Nov. I don't say but
that you%re an artful scoundrel enaugh, ia
'^DY KVELYN.
39
VM M h« turnod
tint me to my
i lut, apward
nto th« rirer I
tail !'
Before it« on«
I came a 'ow,
door. Morf^aa
I had torsotten
Iwcllera in tli*
tiotliAr half so
■econil Incariot
The Kni;liiih-
Rhakiiig liaiiil,
L« iie uiilock«d
ffled in A great-
e in, dripping
you my word I
Bi'p. A aouiid
scianoe alwayi
Htly iiight it i«
(iniK in out oi
'» tit conifovW
hand
way,
ut of the
led the
heerless room.
{ his great 00 it
and stood re>
raid Desmond.
I dull, like your-
t's better than
rf jail, with the
n prospective,
joni Rory, how
is legs, cased
bstretched ; hit
light-bine eyea
it of sapphire
ime, and nerer
the Ghost ia
pearl powder,
loking for aay
don't look M
agedy, if you
cried with »
;h I were going
eraldDeSTioiidl
r not the wrath
e murder done?*
yourself. I've
in to, if I can
nd I pride my-
lie professioi-—
[ don't say but
Irel eneugh, in
the main ♦ but there is so much of the blooil-
honuil and bulldog in you hy nature that
it will break out in a f pi t«! of you. When
you pitched your little Kathleen, necK and
«rop into the—'
'For Ood'i sake, hush !' .Nforitan cried, in
a voice of agony, sUrtin.;' to his feet.
' Walls have have ears ! Hu«li, hush, hush I'
'It was a weakening on your part I
should never have judged you capable of.
m
duat Mid
hi»
I'm eompouiuliiig with felony in concenling
it, I don t deny ; but then it's an ill wind
that blows noliody good. I've saved yonr
bull-dug neck from the gallows, my worthy
Mr. Morgan, and fixed the crime on another
man. You ought to be iiiiuieagnrably grace-
ful to me, inxtead of gloweriiirat nie over
tae candle, like the Faust Mepliistophcles.'
He lit a cigar as he spoke, and sent a
?utl of smoke into the face of his companion.
'Iiut troddfii worm looked ghMimily at him.
' Vou are a deeper-dyed villain than I am,
Geralil Desmond 1 he said ; 'and as deeply
dyed a murderer as I am— for vou made me
answer an innocent man's life' away? He
was your friend— your benef.ictor— yonr
kinamun. How will you answer to (iod and
man for this dayia work ?'
'The question of the Covenanter's widow '
Oenild D.!^m(>nd responded, airly. 'Wdl*
I say as Claverhouse said ; ' I can answer it
to a man well enough, and I wdl take the
Df ity in my own hand." Ah, I always ad-
mired Claverhouse ! But you in the cliaiuc-
t«r of a censor— my cut-throat friend !
Who'd have thought it? As to my friend,
my lionefactor, my kinsm.in, etc., 1 hate
him simply because he is all these. Why
w 18 I not born to the purple, instead of he ?
Ini th(! cleverer man, f.irand-.tway, of the
two. And he is all that otand.s between me
tiiil the .joronet of Gontarf. .Ih that not en-
ough ? Wlien I was a wretched littie hang-
er-on — a fatli. rU'ss and well-lxTn pauper-
he was ri<liiig about the couiiti> like a prin2e,
adored by high and low even then, while I
lield Ilia stirrup-leather, and pick 'd out of
the mud the guineas he threw to me. Is
thit not enough? And to-d.iy I love the
Wduian he loves, and she flouts me, by .Jove !
[almost as dead-aiid-gone Kathleen flouted
you. 13 that not .oiough ? He was rich,
and handsome, and beloved, and my iKue-
.factor. I was poor jiml plain, and beloved
|by nobody, and the hanirer-on of my lord
:lie king 8 bounty. Was that not enough ?
^ut I won't do as you have done, my fooliah
|M'T«aii— drown the woman I worship. I
iiieaa to do better— make her marry me.
nl I shall have her, and her fortune, and
.... .^... * «* /-»!. .„*....* ^^, » . ^'
>oiK» are bleached, and all that bright
lips in t) •
vor taken t e
i, and blue tl
' to see.
»te '■' Moi^AB
J another ol me
herj to give me.
beauty she loves w
Mhei I'
The words hif "l ou
clou<l of smoke, lie hii
cigar from between I la
•yts gleiiined with a i -■
' Vou are a fiend
said ; ' and you have m..,
Give me what yon oame
an:l lit us pirt.'
' 8o I I make a fiend of you, do I ?' Gerald
Desmond laughed goofl-naturedly. • You
were but one remove from an angel l»efore
Poor little Kathleen I I didn't tell tou t«
drown her did I ?— a very foolish—' '
Morgan leaped from his chair, and made n
elutch at h s tormentor's threat. 'Tak«
c^re, Oerald Desmond ! I'll strangle yo«
where you sit I It's not safe, I warn you—
It s not safe I'
' So I see, you overgrown bully i' He
thnist hib hand within his breast pocket
and pulled out a pistol. ' Bah yon fool ; go
back to your seat, and cease ranting. How
soon do you propose to quit Ireland V
' Within the week, ' sullenly.
'That is well; and don't rem«in in Eng-
land— the air of Oie.1t Britain is unw hole-
some for such as yon. Cut to the colonies-
Australia, Canada.Cape Coast— anvwhere,
anywhere out of the world. Or stay 1 .Sup-
pose you try Columbia, the gem of the
ocean? suppose you make for New York*"
'Give me money,' Morgan said, with •
wolf sh glare ; ' I'll go anywhere. '
'Go to New York. Fine city— lota of ras.
cahty— splemliil openings for a man of yout
genius. Or California wouldn't be a bad
Hea— It's a sort of re/w/im prrcntoriiim nowa-
days. Try the New World, my good fellow
and here s two hundred pounds to start vou
in life.' '
'Two hundred pounds? You raid two
tliousauii I
'Did I really? Well. I could as easily
give you ten midnicht moons. Don't be
unerateful. my William. I've saved yonr
precious neck from Jack Ketch— that't
worth the b.ilance. Take the two hun-'red
and my blessing. It's all you'll ever get.'
flc arose as he spoke, threw away bin smok-
ed out cigar, and buttoned himself up in hi*
overcoat once more.
• VVild weather to face at two in the morn-
ing. No matter— virtue is its own reward
Farewell, my friend. A pleasant passa-re to
New York.'
' A'ld this is all yon mean to give rne ?'
' All— every stiver, my frien i— snd a very
prettv sum it is. Many a millionaire !>».
coinmeiiced on an eighth of the money. Not
a word more, you Id^ick-a-vised murderer I—
LADY KVKLYM.
I won't liHve it. Mliow inn to th« ilor, «nil
Uk« yinii' villainou* fuue out of the country
within the nuxt three ilaya, or I'll l<« down
on you with tuo «aino nieivy you ihowed
Kiithloen 0'Ne»l. 'I'litt will tlo— a wonl to
the wuu-ycMl iiiultratand ? (inod iiiKlit I'
11<- ill appit rid in the itorniy Uikiinni.
The niiiii Morij.m oli^ed and locked tlie door
behind him. iuid HtiMxl in the p.ti»agu, ehak-
ioir hit fut iiiiputeiitly, hia murderous eyea
gleaming; like livo couU.
' AihI thin is tlio way you keep your word,
Mr. (Jiiald Diinniond ?' he Haid. ' Vou've
u»ed your t"K)!, and now you tliiiK it into the
ditch to rot ! It'* your time now — eveiy
doB hat) hill d;»y— but iniiit will aiirely oonie.
And whiMi it comt-e look out I Win n you're
•t the hiight of your powi r and pruapeiity,
I'll have my vpni;eanuo and draK yon down,
thouKh I perish with yon ! I'll pay you otf,
sooner or later, with compound interest, you
traitor— you JuiIm, who sold your friend I'
CHAPTER X.
VUM CBIMB or CAUr.
Lord Roderio Desmond sat alone in hit
•ell — the condemned cell of the Clonfarf
Jail. The mellow April day — the last of the
month — had long ago faded, and the 'younu
May moon,' of which tl;e sweeteat of all
poets pings, gleamed through the bars of the
grated window into the desnlate cell. There
was no other liuht— bis lamp had gone out —
but the soft, silt'ery radiance fell upon his
bright golden head like heaven's own bene-
diction.
It was past midnight. The new day and
the new month had dawned. May-day had
eomo, and on the third of May they would
lead him forth to dia a felon's death on the
aoatr, Id.
He walked slowly up and down the narrow
eell, very p^ile and thin and worn, but the
bright beauty, that had been Nature's birth-
day gift to her darling, uiidimmed. No
■ufifering, no ahame, no anguish, could athmp
out thai glorious dower. A deep sadness
lay on that pale face — otherwise it was per-
fectly calm.
' And it all ends here," hethonght, Wearily
— * love, ambition, the world ana its gloriea
— in thenolemn wonder of the winding-sheet.
Sic traiuU ! If it were only myself— -but my
father— my proud, beautifnl Inez— oh, pitiful
Ck>d I the thought of them will make me di
a coward.'
He had seen them for the last time that
day ; ha had begged them to come no more.
* I am not tli« first of mv uains and raes
that haa died on the soatfutd for another's
kiss«-d over and
; lie had liNikmi
lark eyes, filled
he had t kes
crime,' hn said, as he wrung his 'tthnr*!
hand. ' Leave me by myxelf for Mih three
days to oouie. Let me die aa they died—
gam«>. '
He hail held Inez d'Alvar«z in his arms—
for the last tun* on earth — in a long, iong,
pan«ionate embraoe ; he had '
over ag'iiii the clay-oold lips
his last into the wondrous '
with woman's wil iest woi'.
his last look ; he had seen hnr fall Iwck ccdd
and l.'feless in the pitying uniis of the Jailer,
and never auaiii, though lir. itiifTered a thous-
and deaths, could he sutler as ho did in tliat
hour.
liut the sharpnesit even of that pang had
passed. Death wa^ so very near — a ernel
and shameful death — ai.d seen in its light
e^irth, its joys and it8 sorrows, faded dimly
away, and a great calm Ml. It ia eauy,
after all, to face the inevitulde ; hope is at
ail end — there la no alternative — we sit down
resiinied.
His thoughts drifted away to Kathleen.
TJio myiitery that slirondeil her fate had
lieen the ircii,\, trouble of his life during;
those drearv mon hs gone by. Who waa
Kathleen's murderer?
'Slie never committed suicide,' he thought
'my brave, eoo<I little girl. She had liecn
foully murdered and lies in her grave un-
avenged. Oh, that I were free to seek her
murderer over the world.'
Hia hand clenched and hia eyes flashed
with all their old fire. The bitterext re-
morse he hail ever felt in his life he had
felt for loat Kathleen. She had loved him
Bo dearly— she had given him up so bra\ oly,
so gcneiously — hIio had snenfiotd heself ao
nobiy for her niineil father's sake. And
this waa the reward of her womanly martyr-
dom.
•Baiter this, poor child,' Rorv thought,
bitterly, * than the living death in store for
her aa the wife of that brute, Morgan ! .She
has gone back to heaven untainted ; aa hia
wife her life woulil have been hell on earth.'
Ha threw himaelf on the btd pre«riitly —
not to sleep- to watch the rays of the silvery
light stream through the iron bars. What
talis it whispered— of the liold Wicklow
Mountains, all flooded with its crystal
cluam — of the waving heather — of the fetter-
less eagle, soaring up to meet the rising sua
— of the purple midnight sea, sleeping uiulfr
the purple, starry sky— of his darling Nora
Creina, dancing like a thing of life on the
>undlesa waves — of hoary old Clontnrf,
where the Desmonds had reig ed time out
of mind, and where every raona crown stone
tbiuga. * And Gerald will reign there now,'
i
l«AUk KVDiLVM.
wrung hit f^thnr*!
lynalf (or thH thrw
(li« M th«7 di«d —
A-ar«i in bi> »rint—
;h — in m long, i<>n|{.
lad kiMcfi overnud
ipa ; lie had IiMiketl
i]i lark (■yen, filled
9( . he li»(i t k««
I linr fall h»ck cold
ariiia of tlm jailar,
•ir. 8nflrtTP<t a tlioiia.
er ai he did in tluti
II of that pang had
very near — a criiel
I teen in iU li^lit
TOWS, failed dimly
Ml. It ii taiiy,
vitalilp ; hope in at
itive — we Bit down
wny to Knthlpcn.
de<l her fate had
of his life iluriiigr
jno by. Who wa«
iiiaide,' hethoueht
rl. 8lie had Wcu
I in her grave nn-
"e free to seek her
hia evM flashe<l
riie hittereiit re-
Ilia life he had
e had loved liiiu
lim np ao hravoly,
Tifiotd he'sulf to
lier'a aake. And
wotnauly martyr*
' Rory thought,
death in atore for
te, Morgan I She
untainted ; aa hri
een holl on earth.'
5 bid presently —
imya of the silvery
ron bars. What
e lx)ld Wicklow
with ita crystal
ilier — of the fettt r-
eet the rising snu
tea, sleppi'-g umler
' Ilia darling Nora
nfH of life on the
try old Clontnrf,
reig ed time nut
raoM'Crown stone
1 reigu there now/
he thought, drwrily— • 0«rald will Im Earl
f ( I'.ntarf when they liy my poor father
.►>tn«»Ui the old cliaiKvl. And he will re-
triov« the ruined fortuiiea of the l>eemonds
by a wealthy n.arriaKe with some Knuliah
trrdeaman s daughter. I .tare say. Ah. weli !
the world's as.. e.si»w at U«t. and it's only
in tha nature of iliu.g, that una should iro
up as the other c(.nio» .l„wu. '
Hlumlwr sUda Ki, .ally over his aya«. He
(aid Ins iiandmiiit, g, a^,, |,^.u,i „„ |, .^
and sle|it as caiinl v a« a child on ita m -tier's
breaet. So det-p was that qui«t sleep tiiat !
the stealthy st' p without never reached '
hun-the stealthy turning of a kev in the
hnge lock of hiK door never disturlied him
blowly and sf)ftiy it swung outward— a'owly
and softly a iiui. [hM into tin. mo<,olit
cell. Une glan. , and he saw the quiet
ueeper on the Ktiaw bed.
'And they would munler liim I' the man
• lid lietween hia clenche<l teeth; ' thev
call liim a murderer I They wouhl hang tuia
fair-haired hoy f„r the murder of the uirl
who loved him I HIind fools I They'll never
harm a h.iir ol his yelL.w liend. I.y tl„. j/rMit
heaven above us. Lord Kory I L^rd iLrv
'He b» it over the sleeper aii.l whispered
the lame :n his ear. At the first s-uml the
sleeping uyus opeued and koked up— wide
awake.' *^
' What is it ? • Who Is it r What do you
want? '
' Hoshdh-sh I for <he love of Oo<l I I nare
oonio U> save you Lord Ro^lerio be«mond I'
rosave me.' Ha sat up in bad bewjid-
sred.
* Ye^ to save yon I only reached Wicklow
yester.lay, or you would not have been in
pnaon all tlie«e mo .ths. May Old Nick flv
sway with the cowards who called them-
•elvos your friends, and left you to die herel'
• But who aie you f Rory cried. in breath-
less wontler and bewilderment.
'Ah, then, suie you luven't forgotten ma
entirely. Lor.l Rory f M.ke Muldoon/ tl"t
run away four yeira ago. and went to sea.
Sure you saved my lile. at the risk of your
own. manv a.lay ago up in the monntains
oeyaut. 1 ve a koo,1 memorr, my lord, and
I haven t forgot it. tlion^h I am a i.e'eiHlo.
well ( and I m here to-niglit to -pay olT my
debt Get up my lord-cet uj , throw
this big roat about you. pull this old caulxsen
»ver your tace, and come along.'
'Come along! Where? how f In
heave., s name. Mike, what do you maanf
I liere is no chance of escape. '
'There is every chance I' Mika Mnldoon
•ri^ed. in a breathless whisper. 'The jailor ia
a/ sBcw, a. jfvu bMw I ita iiaan't ssaa me
It
for four years until to day. only thay toM
nie overin th. town-oh. wirra ! -thj they
h»d you hare, har.1 and fast. Lord K<.ry.l
swore by all that's goo«l and great thai
minute that i'd f.ea yon. or know the rZ!oL
why ! I c^ina to my uucle a.i.l sura ha was
I as gla-l to see uie aa if I was th« prodiual
I Tl *."!''•'; ^ff«"-ty preaches alx.ut : ^J
•lidn 1 1 ask him to niak a littl,- fea.t in
, honour of the occasion, and invite ths whola
I s.np a orew ? And faith he did it like a la*lv
I and I ju.t quietly drugged the piui-di. aiid
eveiv inaii.jack oi them ia sleeping like tha
dev.i I ,uk the kays from my nncles Ih.1i,
and Och. Lord Rory ! don't keep me s and-
yig here piilaverin'. but come at ou.e ' lU
tlung tfie coat roumi him. sUpp d the hat
over hu eyes and lai.ly dragged th. prisoner
out of hiM cell.
' But where, Mikn— where are we goinir »'
I ve ahoatinwHitingdowiith. reatl'.gKv'a
Point, and my ahip. the Dancing Dei",ab
sails in three houia She's lying at ancho;
m the harbour now, and as tl.rje of our men
d.serted last night, they'll take you. .n.i no
""•"" ''"'' And sure when you're
I questions asked.
s..f . in foreign parts, you can write home
and-iw// ye hiiriy, L<,r.l Rory. or .io ya
mean to stand here till the dirty pack of
beag.ea wake and pve a cl.aMe f Come on ?'
vStumie<l. bewildered, daze.l-ljke a man
in a dream— Urd Rodenc sufTerwl himselt to
1^ nal li H *^^ V,**"«- «''"»' ll'at dream.
lia paste<i through long corri.tors-throuKh
an open court-yard, where otBoiils slept at
their poats-tlirough t:,e widepriaon g^^tea
and out int<, the grav. starry morninglfr^'l
Then be awok^ He turn«i to the l.iava
fellow beside him. and held out his hand.
Mike, nvy glorious fellow I how can I
thank you?' *
' By running as if th. divil was after ye I
May l« they ra waking thi, minute and lals-
lUK the alarm N.,ver mind thanks. L rd
Mild • **' " **"' **' "*'** °' *'•* "*""' o'
My father. Lady I,;,«-_I must find mean. Tf
letting them know. The su.pense.the t, vZ
tery of my fate, will kill th..|\n Oh, M ki^
my man. my br in feels half dared w th tlM
s.iddenneas of aU this. Think for me-^^
kiw','' ''*" •"••^"'' ^•- to\::\Cm
thJl!^^ *«" •PMding rapidly along toward
wararad.^!, ir ti>r'o"fr" ir.'4 """3
^ratched h,s hea'd t' d:nV".rXrty^
'Sura it's like putting yer head back in t hi
i^lL' f "^.^,ri^^» -^^ ,.!^"* -till-arrah ^
89
LAD:i^ KVEl.VN.
the Deflmonda," that's itood your friend ao
far, will flee you through it ; and many'a
the good turn I owe the onld lord. Come
down to the shore, Lord Rory. and write
your note. I'll fly up to the castle and back
in a brasH of sliakes. '
As men hurry when life is at stake, they
hurried to the safe shelter of the shore. The
coast-guard, going his lonely rounds had to
be avoided ; but Pegcy'a Point— a h^gli.
wild, lonely projection, thirty feet above the
aands, with the waves churning on the black
rouks below — was safe, even from him.
Rory had a pencil in ins pock<'t, and a New
Testament. He took out the book, and
scrawled rapidly on the fly-leaf :
' I have escaped : I urn safe. Before I
am missed I will be out of the county.
Until you hear from me again farewell.'
Tiiat was all. He folded it and gave it to
the f^ailor ' Deliver it to my father, to Lidy
Inez, or my cousin (ierald.bnt to no one else.
I will await your return here, Mike and may
God speL'd you !' The man darted off like a
deer and Lord Rodcric Desmond, the con-
demned pri^'oner, wi.ose hours had been
nuinliered, fitood under the n^'ny morning
sky, fetterless and free "iice more. Once
more the stirring sea-wi«d tlirilled through
every vein, like the elixir of life ; once more
he lookeil over the ceaseless sea ; once more
lie s.iw tlie unaiitiiikahle glory of the new
day (l.iwii in tlie rosy east. He leaned
against the tall, mossy houlder. and drew a
lo n, ileep ijri-iith. ' Free !' he thought.
'Ti.uik (iod ! Tliank God ! for man's best
birlii-rii;lit ! Tliey will never take me back
to cijitivitv ajiain- never ! though all the
constabulary of Clontarf stood before me. '
And iiHMiitiiiii^, fleet as an ai row from a
bow, bounded along Mike Muldoon to Clon-
tarf Cafitle. The distance was nearly two
miles ; but two miles was as a ' hen's jump '
to the swift-tooted mountaineer. Day waa
dawn'iig in the rmldv eastern sky, the breeze
was fr 'sheiiingiand Mike knewerethe ruddy
eastern sun was an hour high the Dancing .
Dervish would l)e flying from the Wicklow i
coast, with her white wings spread. And'
il 1 am late— oh. wliilililn !' thotight Mike. .
' Tiipy'll bn ill lied at the castle whin I gut '
theie, I know. Sure and quality's always
lazy.' ;
' Hallo !' cried an astonished voice.
'Now, then, inv man, mind where you're
going !' But tlie alarmed warning came too
late. There was a collision — Mike had run
head foremost into a iiedestrian walking
briskly down the rueged path. There was
rt ait^iij^ r\f t!*s !iiOHt violent a rebounn.
and a luutually ferocious gUr«. ' Confound
yon, you thick-headed bog-trotter 1 What
do you mean ?'
But Mike Muldoon, by way of an answer,
flung up his cap and caught it, with a loud,
exultant about. * Huiroo ! tare an age —
here's the luck of the Desmonds ! Long life
to ye, M sther Gerald ! Sure, I'd rather ae*
your own good-Iookin' face this minute than
be made a present of ould Ireland !'
' What the deuce !' exclaimed Gerald
Desmond, with a scowl — for Cjeraid Des-
mond was always the earliest «f early
birds ' I have seen yon betoe, my good
fellow, somewhere. VV'aa it in a mad-
house ? '
'God forbid!' retorted Mike, in un-
feigned horror. ' Maybe ye rememl er Mika
Muldoon, that thraahed ye within an inch
av yer life long ago, for shootin' hia terrier T
Divil a dirtier trick ever I heard tell of.
Si're, it my own four bones, Misther Gerald,
darlin', from foreign parts beyant, wid a
note for ye from him, yf know.' Thin last
in a thrillini; whisper, with hia hfcud to
his mouth, and his mouth cloae to Gerald's
ear.
' From whom ? I'll be hanged if I under-
stand one word you're saying !'
' Arrah ! read this,' said Mike, thrutiting
the note into his hand. ' Didn't I come to
Clontarf to free Lord Rory, and didn't I do
it, too ? My cnrse, and the cur e o' the
crows, on them that put him where I found
him i He's waiti-ig down at Peggy's Point,
an' Misther Gerald, av yc'll run down an'
spake a word to hi;. , white I'm fetchin' the
boat round, you'll bedoin'a good turn.'
' But wait, Mike — for heaven's sake, wait I'
cried Gerald, breathlessly. ' Do you mean
to tell me Rory haa broken jail and made
his escape ?'
' Begorra. he has ! an' is coolin' hia shins
at Peggy's Point this m nute.'
'Yon helped to free him V
' Faith, 1 did that ! an' more shame to ma
av I didn't.'
'And what are you going to do with him I
What boat do you speak of ?'
■ Tlie cutter of the Dancing Dervish, no
less ; it's up yonder a mile or so. And the
Dancing Dervish — more beti ken I'm second-
mnMi' of the same — sails for M "'•ourne
within the next two hours, and Lord Kory's
off in her, and can snap h'S fingers in the
dirty faces of all the hangmen this side of —
Hnrroo ! I'm off for the boat, Misther(»erald.
Run down to Peggy's Point, and tell Lord
Rory I'll b« with in twenty minntea.' He
was gone like a shot. And Gerald Desmond
atood alone in the day-dawn, and knew that
&U his labi>t!r W£is vsiiu — ^11 his t)lottiu*z s.!id
villainy were useless — kuew that tiietottsia
>og-trott«r 1 Wh«t
LADY EVELYN.
33
he hated waa free ! He set his testh like a
bulldog, and an awful oath rang down the
solemn atilliiesa. His face in the gray light
had turned livid and terrible, and his strong
right hand clenched.
' Baffled I' he crushed the word between
his herue teeth. ' Never I by the light
•rxjve U8 ! though I slay him with my own
band I '
He started at a swingin/ pace, his hand
closing on the cold barrel of a pistol, hidden
m liu- breast. There was thaX in the steel- i
blue .yes. m the Cjnipnssion of hi« ni'.uth. I
n \d to SIP. '
Roderic Desmond, leaning against the i
boulder, looking at the c inison glory 'ecD-
eniiig in the east, awoke from his reverie
ut the jound ot rapidly-approacliiiig fout- I
stops. It was not the tread of Mike Mul- '
do.,n-heknpwthat-and he sprang erect I
and stoo<l with the look in hi« eyes of a '
bunted stajr at bay.
' They shall never take me alive !' he
thniight.
The next instant he had sprung forward
' Hnte me ! Tau, Gerald-my fnend^
my kinsman— my brother I'
evfn tZ"^{ w"i »•'• -toa,lfast bla,
eyes that looked at hm with snok
unutterable reproach stung Z ml Less tS
' breasr""* "' '*°"°"'' ^° *''• ^'''^^*»
I '<;urse you I he hissed, • with your wo-
i ^^."//T *"•' P""- 8»1''«" hair I wZS
right had you to U born Lord Clonfarf n
.tead of me ? The same blood floi, fn oL,"
vein,, and I'm the In-tter man, by Heaven
with this gl rions dower of l^uty that h-s
nmde von be petted and c,.res«e,l since vour
I very babyhood, while I was l.ksan unlion
cub for whom cufts and ha'pence were t^
g'^d ? What right bad you to woo anc wj^
a beauty and an beiress.and take her to vo "r
arms, under my very eyes ? What rL t
1>«.1 you to IH, my benefactor, my natr n m»
master. fli„gi,.g „,« y„„, •s:':,!,.^^;, ,";' J
paying my debts, and sh.ir.ng your poL-ket-
money, like a prince ? I teVyouTS
you! I hate you for your b^rth. for ym^
more shame to nie
with a bitter sn-er. 'The proverbial luck
ot the Desmonds hns not deserted the last
Bon of the house, I gee. And so. Lord
K'Tv. yi)u hiive escaped Jack Ketch V
■ (Jeraid !'
Only that one word. But he dropped the
h ind he had taken, and recoiled, and stood
blankly staring. There was thatin t be ton? I wK« " ' ^'",^^t D'^^mond hi«se
tlM- in the tords. that in Tesnl.f'Zt^:^^^^^^
th.t in the words, that nrThe'smUel of
til' man before him, no one could see and
do ibt.
(herald Desmond laughed aloud— a hard
I fitier. sanlonic laugh. His falcon eve had
j measured the narrow margin on which they
stood, and the black, boiling gulf yawning
I '' a'lly below. He foMed his arms, ami
l'"'ktd with that diibolicai sne.r full
iM the pale, startled face of the kinsman he
In.ted.
'My brilliant Rory I my beauteous Rory 1
I bow ,s It with you now? A condemned
it,.,on— a fugitive from justice— a hunted
Imurdeier ! Why. your worst enemy might '
IsfFord to ptf„ you to-day I Do you hear. %„
iiigiy cousin ? To;„7y yon-as I do I' ^ ,
«»erald ! he could just utter that one '
•'Td SO intense was the shock, the won- '
>. the incredulity. ' JFAo/ i, this t U it '
on or I thnt nra anintm .«..l <) I
da^andLor.,K^ie;i;:'i::S-3^ep
He paused, breathless with the fieic n.«H
passion within him. And Kodeiic 1 "ten d**
with blue oilatod eyes, but very calm now
•I nmleiHtand.'be ..aid slowly. • ft «
yon who have betr.yed me to death I'
k "J.^..,_^',*'il D' ;s""o"»l I'issed. 'I know
It was I
Ihat
N'uitl
ler, m
y princely Ro^; it ia only
•TKti'r"'*^!.^'''"^-'""^ K.;xL'U'
lour ; that I hate you J
who bribed Morgan to swear y^ur li e Tway
i li 7^^ ^ ," 'ri ^""-'^'^ •'••^ ""'« that a.,!I: ^:
d^\^T,l\.'**'"'--^^^^I^'''-<' X
j . 'Why do yon tell me this ?' Rory o-ked .
.inthesam. still voice. ' Why do iou seaf
yoiirowii doom ?' ■' "*'
• Because I have sealed yoar« before it
Because you w.ll never leav.fthi.spot XL -
I He sprang upon bim as a tiJr BnZt.
I upon his prey, hi, f..ce blood-re^h f cT
balls staring, his teeth clenched iimin^.T.
lower lip until the bl.od flowed. H Sr ■!
grip was on hi. brother's fhroa -C i„ sS
Zndtf rr"'^"' '" '^' '-told horr<!^J
aa irder ! Their arms closed around eJh
•MooK arms. Oh, God, that tl,„" «:i"!r.f
ahonld
often
rise to
»ld Desmond waa tfaa victor. H
of blood in man ! G
er»
>s
rijfht l^d
M
LADY EVELYN.
closed tightly on tho blackened throat, his
left honght his pistol. Its blue gleam flaslieii
in the first reH ray of the rising sun that was
to have lit Kory to freedom ; llitn its coM
miiz^ie pressed hard against the temple of i
bis fallen foe. For one second tlie blue eyes
of Rory Desmond looked steadily up in tlie
face above him — a look his niunleicr might
never forget to liis dying day Then tliere
was a bound, a pistol rang out over the
•olemn sea, tliero was astrngple, one or two
convulsive throes, and the golden head fell
back on the blood-stained grass, the blue
eves stared blankly up at the brilliant
morning sky. And a g.-eat calm fell.
The mur<lerer'8 eyes looked over tie wide
ocean. Far o It', rnunding a distant point, a
boat, propelled l>y asr.gle rower, sped- -the
cutter of the Danoing Dervish, and honest
Miku Muitloon. Far nelow, the ris ng tide
the licked the steep sides of the rock. One
plunge, and the dead tell no tales ! He
lifted the stark body in Ids arms, and hurled
it over. There was a great pluiigo — .t went
■traiglit down like a stone. But as he flung
it ftoni him, he could have sworn tlia dea<l
eyes i.ioveil and tlie deaii lips parted with
the words they had uttered in the cr( wded
court the d- ailileMsrep-oaoh of the murdered
Cffi'ar. ' And thou too, tlrutun !'
He pressed liis hand over hia eyes to shut
out till! licnid vision, and hurling the pistol
far into the calm sea, flod like a madin&n
(roni the spo..
PABT HKtONB.
CHAPTKR L
TBKVANNA.NCB, OR BOTAL BKST
It lay deep down in the green heart of
the Devon woods, that stately Norman pile,
known as ' Royal Rest.' Long and maiiv a
day ago, Norman masons had reared its
lofty turrets, its massive, battlemented
towers, its wondrous pinnacles, its superb
rantres of Gothic windows, its rich and rare
carved stonework and buttresses, wliere the
clustering ivy and wild dog-roses bloomed
luxuriantly now — a noble and storied <dd
mansioti, that had stood mmy asiege, where
^iled king and hunted prince bad sought
and found shelter in the troubled days
gone by.
Royal Rest ha i been the noblest posses-
sion of a great a-d noble house — the only
remainder of a li>ng bead-roll of such pos-
•essions. It had l>een the sanctuary of
hunt' (1 Jacobite nobles ; countless Tory
plots had been hatch'd hetween its grand
old walU ; Cromwell's petroneU liad battered
it in vain when Lord Dudley Trerannano«
held it with a handful of retainers, and lost
his title and fair, broad lands tighting foi
the * White Rose and the long heads of
hair.'
A grand old plaee ! In its deep, dark
forest lands the rare red deer trooped in
countless herds. In its woodland potds tho
wild fowl flocked in legions. Itjs glancing
river was famed far and wide for char and
trout, and on its sedgy margin the water
lilies waved, and the white swans ' floated
di ublc, swan and shadow.'
Nowhere e!ae in all sunny Devon Abounded
the partridges, Ihe pheasants, sn.l the
ral.ihits, as they aboundeil here ; nowhere
else crowded the teal and mallard in the
still dark tarns as they crowded at Royal
Reit — a terres'.rial piradise, sloping down
to the sunlit 8' a, covering leagues ol coun-
try, of hilvcry beach, of stately deer forest,
of gorse-growii heath, where myrtles bios-
son.ed and wild-ru'^es blew — a grand old
place, with a chi'i.e of ^ilver-ton>u"d bells,
thejride of the coiintj'. Tin- Aiiijui't sun,
sti-eaining through the quaint ivied wiu'iows
with their rich heraldic blazonries upon the
panes, stiineil wi h the crest of the house
of Trevannauce — a wounded eagle rending
a hawk, ai'd the imperial motto, ' 'J'riiimpho
morte tarn vita' — fe.l warm and mellow on
the head of tho last lord of Royal Ri st. It
waa past noon, and he sat uiih three other
men at breakfast, and ihe lofty apartment
was perfumed with cigar smoke, and the
fragrant odour of Burgundies and c'aret,
reaches and grapes, and the ruses and
clematis that surrounded the windows
and wafted their odorous breath into ti.e
room.
He sat at the head of the table. Vivian
Victor Trevannanee, the last of his name
and race. Cornish by hirth, as his name
implied -for ' by Ti-e, Poland Pen ye may
know the Cornish mr — this fair inher-
itance of Royal Rest jame to him from
the distafT tide, failing hein direct in the
main line.
The old Cornish homestead hud lo.ig aa
gone to 1 ack and ruin, througli his fath r a
reckless prodisjality, and the elder Trevan-
nanee had resigned it utterly to the ;;\vl8
and bats. Rruklessness was n charac-
teristic of the race — a race not in love,
4iot in hate, falcons in war, doves in peace,
iery warriors in the days of ilie Plautage-
net, and Lancaster, ainl of York — yta in
j the days when they had fought and bled
at Ascalon. They had lost a marquis to
i and a prinooly inheritance, but they were
reckless stiii, under iiie velvet maB(|Ue of
latter-day custom — with the wine fiery obi
LADY KVELYN.
(Iley Treranniinot
ri.'taiiier», uiui lost
laiida Hgliting foi
he long beadit of
Fn its deep, dark
1 (leer trooped in
'oodland pools the
ins. Its glancinff
wide for cliar and
;narf;in the water
itc swans * floated
t
y Devon abounded
leasants, 8n<l the
il licre ; nowhere
d mallard in tha
lowded at Royal
ise, sloping down
' leagues oi conn-
tately deer forest,
lero myrtles blos-
sw — a grand old
lver-ton>'ued bells,
Thi- AuviUft sun,
lint ivied windows
ilazomirs upon the
crest of the house
led «-agle rending
motto, ' TrinmpUo
m and nicliow on
i Royal Ri8t. It
t with three other
le lofty apartment
r smoke, and the
lulies and c'aret,
111 the rc'Ses and
:d the wiiidowa
IS breath into tie
the table. Vivian
last of bin name
rth, as his name
>1 and Pen ye may
—this fair inher-
ante to him from
leira direct in the
tead hud Ib.tg as
irongh his fath r 8
I the elder Trevan-
tterly to the cwla
ss was a charao*
race not in love,
»r, doves in peace,
ys of the Plantage-
I I of York — yta in
1 fought and bled
lost a mnrqiiis ts
ce, but they were
; velvet maH(|ue lof
the ume fiery ol4
Norman blood leaping in their veins. He
•at at the head of the breakfaat table, in
• velvet inorn.ng coat, a Manilla between
his lips glanciiuf over the letters the moin-
ing mail had brought liim-a tall, finely-
formed man of thirty, with a fair frank
handsome face, large, lazy, brow eyes'
and a profusion of silky brown liu r and
moustache. The large, luminous brown
eyes looked at you with a gentle, dreamy
indolence ; the voice that spoke was slow
and m,ft ; every lingering, leisurely move-
ment bespoke the very essence of indolence
mborn and ...bred. The hot Norman
blood levied to flow coolly and sIok-
gn*hly enougli in the last lord of Royal
K.'st He p., led his apricots, and sipped
his c'aret. and opened his lette.s-rose-
Bcented, roge-luied. many of them, for
the cou<,utror8 myrtle leaves strewed
the path of Vivian Trevannanoe ;
and the fair ones went down be-
fore his handsome brown eyes hi-
ancient name, and his noble rent-rdl, 'as the
rahbita l^jfore the ring of hi« L. nci-hire
nil.-. And constancy had never been his
an,,., point ; he bowe.l li«litly at each fair
•hrme, but he worshipp •(! long at n no
l* otters are fetters, thouuh thy be
wreathed of rose-ch ms,' he said wearily
and, like our wounded eagle, w,- of Trevan'
n in. e tnumph in death as iii life. We live
free, or wr ce ise to live.'
Gh-ncing slightly over the fair, perfumed
billets ere he threw them a.side, he paid little
he,., to the t.lk of tin, oth.r men ^er their
omelettes and salmow outlets, though that
telk ran on a very interesting theme-the
dfbiit of ■ new beauty,
'Loveliest thing the sun shines on !' de-
eland I^rd (,uy R.ycrs. enthusiastically.
&iw her nresented-roade the greatest sen-
sat.on of the century- delicious as one of
Greuze a l)eautie8-not that style thou«h-
only got black hair-too beautiful, by
for— she'a innl' ' '
39
Jovi I for— she's ice!
retorted Major Langly, of the Guai-.U.
Pure tastilian, old f.dlow-no t int of
grand old stock with a dash of Irish blond.
Gage Tempest has gone stork mad over her
wondrous loveliness, and the Ear of Green
^.d hn. coronet at her feet the third time he
press might, said no, and swept away •
Wiiturf's gone to Centra! Africa, to forget
that disdainful littlo b-«"»" -- -^ *.
originies.' — .- -.-.--•nj; lac as-
■ TUiey call her the Roae of Caatile-protty,
eh; The laureate dubbed her. A cerfain
her at the Drawing-room that—'
r„..n^p^*" »'«»"• that story,' interrupted
d^l^^^'t^.TV g^^r-'-l^'i f-^rlns pains-
ra L . Llf ^ '"*' ^ """"^^ "P »''" Medite-
raneaii, last year— crninpy old fellow-looks
1-ke Byron'. Vlanfred or"^ Eugene ArS-
chronic gloom, and all that sort of thing-
as If ho had a murder on his min.l. you know.
By-the-t.y. Clontaifgot the title in rather a
roiindabontway, didn't he? Was nephew
of the last earl, an.l stepped in the shoes of a
dead son. How was it ?'
1 JJ'^r """"J'' ""''' ^"y ^'^■«"'' ^"° o' th*>^«
men who know everything; 'ithapp.ned
twenty years apo, or there. bouts, but I re-
co.lect It perfectly. Lord lioderic De.inond.
Clontart-late earl, of course- Clonfarfi
oiny son-was accu cd of murdering a littlo
peasant girl-hornbly unlikely, yoi, know-
but he was. and found guilty an.l sentenced
to be hanged. Three days before the sen-
tence was to be executed he made his escape
somehow, and was never heard of again
ihty found a body noine months later
1.71 \v'''M""f' «"«' P««P'e "upposed it to b^
vp..i r • *'rT'' '"'^•'^' ^'^'y "«tural.
lexer held ,ip his hea.i after-very fine (eilow
,Vr'f r"''*;Tr*'"'' *'!«>' ""y : »"'l ^hen he
died Gerild Desmond, then a hard-working
London barrister, stepped into the title. He
did more— he marri d the Lady Inez D'AI-
varez, the ate iMatrothed of hii late cousin,
and with the vast wealth she brought him
built up the decayed fortunes of the Dee-
mon.Is. He took her back to Castile, and
here our radiant, pierlesci. prou.l Lady Eve-
ya first opened her violet eyes on this mor-
tal_ life. Pa a the Burgundy. I have spoken I'
Like an ora..le !' said his host, flinoinff
aside his last letter, and selecting » pclcb*
And now— what's it all about '•
'The Rose of Castile, of course-the aub-
ject of the day.'
'Ah 1 and pray what new floricultnral
wonder is your Rose de Castile ♦'
' Hear him !' cried Lord Rac. r, impatient,
.y. 'Vou Vandal) If you had not spent
Id Z Vl'"* T'^ '" *■'* ^*"*' ''f '^' Arab
and the Mussulman, you wonJd not, ne,.,| to
ask that question. Why, Clontan 's m.er e.,
•unghter to be sure! Ix.vely ^ y^'!",
lire; ms of the angels, an.l worth' not ..nly a
'My.loar fellow.' remonstrated Vivian
Irevaunance, plaintively, '.lon'tgush! It's
fatiguing in Aueust. and bad ta.t« .t .„„
«"'<ts. HuNiden, I ve seen her !' ^
' Seen her t Vou ! Where V
'la a yo«,,g ujy', proper sphere- nt
LADY EVELYN.
home. It WM seven yinra ago, and I was
doing thu dutiful— making a sacrifioe on the
pat«riial altar, and tliat sort of tiling. Li
other words, tlie governor and my lord of
Clontarf are al>surdly intimat — a nuHlerii
case ol Pyladea and Oreate, David and Jona-
tlmn. you kuiw- and General Trevaunance
di'Hued me to moet him in Castile, an<l at
th»! residence of hia Pyihias, Clontarf. Well,
it IS always less fatiguing to yield than
to roliel. 1 yielded and went up
tlie Ebro, and saw what R.icer
gushingly calls "Clont^rfs peerless danch-
ter. " ' *
' Well, and isn't she ? You coldblooded
critic, what elsp cm you call her?"
'It WHS seven years ago, 'answered Trevan-
ndnue, gravely, ' I saw a dark fairy of
eleven suinmers (that's the style in novelg.
isn't It *), with a pair of wonderful, solemn]
sliininK eyes, who danced the bolero for us
by moonlight, under a Castilian chestnut-
tree. Damsels of eleven year.«i, in the transi-
tion state, I don't as a rule admire, but this
tinv lady had very little of the bread-and-
butcer miss about her, I must say. I rather
think I thought her pretty. I must iiave
for I offL-red to kiss her ; but sh • swayed
ftway from me like a voung queen. I re-
nv-mber distinctly two slim arched feet-
altogether Spanish— wi.uid have served
Owen Meredith for one of his i.lyls— and a
pair of tapering ankles. They sent her back
111 a week to li.^r convent ; and I have still
anothi.r vivid impression that she declined
kissing me aeain at parting. If she were a
pru.le at eleven, what must she be at
eighteen?'
' All icicle— a Venus Victrix, done in
Parian marble— beautiful as agotdess, if
you like, and with no more heart than Miu-
urva herself.'
' Weil, take care of yourself, Guy,' said
h)8 ho^t. • I never yet knew a man begin
by abusing a woman that he did hot end by
b'Siiig bis head alwiit her— she's coming
down to Waibeek Hall to-morrow with the
Clydesinorea.'
' To Warbeck Hall ? Whew I Who savs
BO, pray ?' ^
'Thegorernor,' Trevannance answered,
lazily, 'says he's coining here himself.
Clontarf goes with hiw peerless daughter, and
the Duke of Amethyst is in their train.
Commend me to a woman who can trample
on rtrawberry-kaves ! The gorgeous Donna
de Castilia has refused him twice, and still
his grace'* motto is, "Try, try again."
There must b« aomething in her, after all.'
'Ah! she can talk— when she chooses,'
Guy Rivers said, d<^ami!v--'£hs s;*.d ths
i'reuiier— I heurd 'em at it, at Lady Rock-
silver's, one night. She was as brilliant ••
thoiisrh she had been born ugly and a bias-
stocking. '
•All women can talk,' remarked Major
LangUy, deoi.ledly, 'I V>elieve with the
Persians, that ten ineasures of talk came
down from heaven, and the women took
nine.'
' Yes, they all can talk, ' said Trevannance,
in his soft, slow voice ; ' but they seldom
suy anything worth hearing. They will
cliatter for hours, ami we like to hear 'em.
Nonsense from rosebud lips is ever so much
nicer, now and then, than sense between
beurdaiid moustache, butnot fora permanence
I bopeyourCiwtilianRoseisn'tclever.Riveta.
If there's one thing I do abhor and detest,
it is a clever woman. They have always
l)een my pet abomination since 1 wore petti-
coats, and had a strong ininrled nutse for
governess, who read Stuart Mill and Adam
McCulloch.'
' She's fearfully and wonderfully accom-
pushed,' Rivers responded, lighting a r.^se-
Hcented cigarette ; 'but I don't think she
reads McCiilloch and the other fellow. She
doesn't look a; if she did. She can sing lik*
Maiibran or Jenny Lind. Her shake on the
treble notes is something snblime. She can
waltz— oh, ye gods ! how she can waltz ;—
turns her round in a nut shell, and fairy
floats in air. She speaks four difTerenl
laneunges, and each like a native ; ami she
embroiders elaborate vestinHnU,aiKl missal-
every day of her life. She's as clever as
she IS iiandsome, and, in these days of pretty
fa"e8 and lackada Hi«al head*, a little
modicnrn of brain is refreshing Now, then,
1 aay,let'H go and have a pop at tlie rabbits.'
There wc,s a general move and a universal
lighting of cigars as they went.
'And so we're to have her next week,'
Miiji.r Laiigley remarked. • Pitv, too— she'i'l
cpoil our spcrt with the partridges. SV'hen
a man's heart hit himself, how can he lie ex-
pected to bring down the featured game ? If
things would only turn out in real life' as
they do in novels I The impregnable beauty's
lioise runs away, and you rush forward an<l
c itch t'e rampant charger in the nick of
time. Or the house catches fire— ind she's
invariably left beiiind— and vou rush blind-
fold through smoke and flaines up to the
forth story, seize a wet blanket, fling it
round the object of your adoration, and
spring with her in yonr arms out of the win-
dow- an odd matter of thirty feet.rso— and
the next insfcmt— crash 1 tumbles in the
roof ! Or she goe. out sailing, and a white-
and-black squall arises, and the boat
^••t-3 u:! lie- Dcarn-en.ia In-fore yon caa
lurl the maiii-sail, and yoa take a header
i^UY KVKLYN.
•fter th« lovely odo into the roaring
buakers, and. w.tli her under o„e arm
Ihore- "* ''^'■'''°*"y **"> »'•« other for tba
. .'^\"} .*'■« »''"«-e is invariable a desert
.laml.' .«ierp,„c.l Trevannauce lauEi
» here the Lrea.l and butter grow on if^
tree* an, the trout and 8almo„ .wm, up «
your front door and beg you to catch 'en.
w 1^ V? . h"'^.*^"' i"c.,nt,n,,ntlv i„ love
with you, the " preserver of her life and
virtue.- a» the Ratd.de hero.nes say. ! i
marnet you out of hand. Yes, my H,.,.r,. '
que. Us a thou.sand pities ti.inp« won't turn
out in evervday life as they do in |.,"e
To.ume l.tera ure. We nuKht all be el'L;
.on. then, with thirty thousand a vear w^
lovel.eetof her sex " hnuifin^r 1 ke •ripe
cherry ready to drop into our op.n „,oulh
As.t.s-well. Cloatarfs peo.lcs, dZuier
An.e hy.t ha, been jdted, so weUtuko heart
of grace, and sing in her face :
*•• If she be not fnir for me,
Wh»t care I how fair she be ?'
S7
• Ah ! there's a fellow in the open now.'
Hm fowling p.ece r:i„g out. an.l tl ■, rabbit
rolled over, r,ddled ihroufc'h the head
bport abviumle<l. and the four ...en separat-
ed .n the south coppice. Every lew .n.uu "s
the pop. pop. pop of their guos cn.cked out
o the st.llnes,, and great and n.ighty wa.
the slaughter theieof. '
The afternoon sun waa drooping low in
the west ere Trevannn«ce came lo,txri.>g out
of the plantation and up the velvet sloL of
lawn that led to the grLd portico entrance
of th.hou«,. He paused leside amarbl^
fountom where naiads disported in the pUsh-
ing water., as the .igl.t of a fly fro,,; the
ta.lway. r-ttlii.g rapidly up the noble oak
mvenne. met his eye.
.t.n?'''J*,. ''*."'', ^"^'h' thought. Thein-
^H« •i^"''«»'«d -tarted fo.ward in sur-
Qj ' . I ' •f»^«™or, by Jove 1' he excla.m-
^d— a day sooner than he oaid.'
He came forward with the careless trace
pecuhar o ,„„. and greeted his father wuh
outst.td.ed hand .„d .cordial ..^ife'S
toKoyal Rpst. Why did you not savin
your letter you were coming to dr/insLd
of to-morrow, .„d some of ,^y pcop^; X^ y
l»*ve met you at the station •■ *^ ^
I u ' t''»nk8 f No matter. Didn't know
! it my,elf. yon see. Took th« n.fi^.....A°?T
i tolbc's^n^ u«commonly well you're looking,
'I believe it is considered beneficial. I
can return the cf,mpln..ent. however sir
will tltr'*"'^ bunle^eem tJ agree :Z^'^
well With you. I never saw you lookiui
nn!f b Tievaiinance acceptu.l the oiler,
nnd, l.nk.ng h.8 arm in thai of hi. son led
hiin t«>ward the house.
[ They resembie.! each other, father and
•on. and .ho bright, dark eyes of the elder
man were as br.lliant as in the d«y« of H.
>outh-«Ibe.t the thick, brown hair wa.
in'Twhiir' *"'* *'•" ^'"''' "'"-"tache
He bore the stamp of the cavalry officer
Il'aiai??* ^•'^t-upright a, a dart, hale
^ a lad of twenty, and « ah twice the euergy
«.ked 'T* J'g"''".^" »'«re. Vivian ?'h.
Mkea. Royal Re«t 18 full from bottom to
top, us usual, I daresay ♦'
'xVIy dear sir, no. Onlv three men—
Lang.ey. of the Household Br.gade. (.u»
Rivers and Lord Racer. You see. Iladu?
C,"^^""'"n' '"^P^'^'lthe autumn in
tl r^i^ V"*'"" ^ P?r'"=*' *'^'' Mounteagle.
•tood tl.jng we were to go up the Kile
together b. tore Christmas. 'Fo ,o. or not to
go, IS, with me, an open questien a. yet '
Don't go.' '* *'''''*^' ^'" y«". V.vian.
'My dear governor I Really—'
afte^*jr '"*f i''%>il>'-a'-y-the men are out
Sis V ''""'^ ""PPO". When do you
umer You can give me ten minutes before
the dressi.iK.bell rings, can't you ?'
tifly. my dear sir, if you like. Really
his p,ws interesting, not to say mysterious
InwTiat possible .naniKT can my ^ goi,ro1;
stayiiiif ulfeet you '' ** *
ed"h?".T'':"i*''*!'''™'"y-^"«'' "^ ^"Ji"*'
eu the tall, stalwart general in. A noble
niom-vastl. ng and lofty-the oak-paiSd
walls line,! w th books in rich biml.ug • he
oakrfro/"'^ '"'f PrS'^ ' '^" ^'-hei
oaken floor covered wiih Persian rugs^; rare
busU and bronze, on brackets and .nr
tlie tiger-skin before the marble hearth hi.
!>>».. behind him. his feet.poi! hi, sLaari
reaolute. handsome face fulUf im^KS
hi. keen brown eyes IJxed on his .or
i„^ Vivian, have you ever thought of marrr.
Vivian bad thrown himself back amwl fh.
violet velvet cushions of . loun« tSJi*
' My dear f^tlier, Heaven forefend 1 WUl
88
LADY EVKI.VN.
• horrible queBtion, ami so suddeuly, too ( ■
lW:\y reineiiilier, I was b(jrn with iiurves. I
thuii);li you I'eiiiiisular heroes don't st-cin to !
know tii<- mujining of the word. Marry !
God h.rbid !'
' And wliy, pray ? You must come to it,
Boniier or later — it's liiie deith and the iu-
conio tax, and other inevitable evils, not
exactly agreeal)le, i)erhap8 but smnfthing
there is no sliirkitig. How old are you —
thirty, eh ?'
'Tliirtv-ono and three months,' murmured
Vivian ; ' old cnoiigh to know bc^tter thuu
to marry, (Jood Huavuii ! llu.t any man in
his fober Rcnstcs slmnld ruaii volnntarly,
from fici'iloni i\iti) bomlagu of the most ^ail-
inj: sort I " Tliu Iie.iit is a frii.- and fetter-
lesb Ihiii^;" 8in;;s tliu poet, nn'! 1 a^ree with
him, wliils a Mian'H .'•iiig'e. 1 ilon't think I
was ever inltuid d, 1 y a henelittrnt P ovi-
dence, to lill the rode of Mr. Cauille
Wlicii a poor dev:!, wifhoiit a rap, rushes
headlong to St. (Seorge's, with tlie wiilow
or the orphan, the fortunate possessor of
tifly thiiuaaud in the three cents., we may
pity, but we cannot blam -. But for me. or
any man in my position, able tc pay his tailor
anil his bootm^iker, ownin;; a deci-nt honac.a
decent hor.e, a good Manilla, and a comfor-
table dinner, ft) perpetrate that sort «I mad-
ness — well, the taint or idiocy must have
been in hi.s blood from childhood up. No,
my dear peneral.l haven't thought of marry-
ing, except as I've thought of suicide — as a
honib e 8ul)ject in the aljstract.'
'VHvian !' his f.ither cried, impatiently, 'I
didn't want the cant of the present day from
your lips. Tne y '.nt' man of the perioa is
weary of all thiuL-s eartlily nt twenty, and
good'for nothing nniicr heaven but to iount'e
in club windows, pirt hi.s hair in the miditlc.
incir at women, and rail at marriage. But
you'ie thirty, you've seen the woi Id, sown
your wild oats, possess common sense, and
I hoped for son'.ething better. You must
many— you know it ; and now is your time,
my lail, if ever.'
'Indeed 1 Do you see any symptomi ot
ipoplexy, or heart disease, or — '
'Sliitl'! Here is meining in fiw words —
[want yoU nuiry Lady Evslyn Desmond t'
«Eh !•
Vivian Tr.vannance absolutely started up
»n his cUiow, So great was the shock of his
lurprise.
'You've never Fccn her, I know,'pur-
med the gene al— 'at least, since her child-
looil ; but she is beautiful as even your )a'<-
/i.jjd.jo t.iifitfi can tles.ire. with a l-'^rto.iiei ?ny
iear lad, ot h:\lf a million— the best blood of
'.reland ami Casile in her veins, and the
lignity and grace of an empress. What
more can you aak ? Stay ! don't intermpt
Hie. It is thfc dearest desire of my heart t»
Bee my son win tiiis trohlen prize, for which
dukes si^'h in vain, and I may say nothing
would giatify tier father more. The earl and
I tiilked this matter over oidy yesterday,
and he gave me to underntaud distinctly
that—'
"Barkis was willin','" inteniiptid his son.
Ho hwd fallen back once more among his
nshions. digcstiuff this astonish' r as best
he might. ' Very accommodating of the
ear), I must s.ay ! Did the young lady talk
it over, too, may I ask, and Bend you here a(
C ■pi<l'8 amba^sidor ?'
'No, sir! don't flatter yourself— the
young lady knows nothing of the matter at
yet. But when you have cousented,Blie v. ill
consent.'
' Wdl she ? What a model of filial pu tyt
'Gad ! if this isn't like a chap'erontof i lie
of those romances Racer was ppeaking of this
murning I Flinty-hearted father com-
mands his only son to marry the girl he has
chosen, and cuts off only son with a shilling
bi cause he won't ! Pity y.)u c*i.'tdoth*i
in the prinent c.ise !'
' No, sir !' retorted the ireneral ; 'we can't
do that sort of thing. Roya' Rest is your
own, and the place in Cornwall is entailed,
as you know. All 1 possess is yours, whe-
ther you see fit to obey or not ; but my dt!«r
bov. it would make me very happy to s^e
my little Evelyn your wife, arfd iny gnind-
children around my knee.'
'All born with silver spoons in their
mouths,' Vivian murmured, languidly.
'Governor, why don't you marry her you -
self? You're the better man, and thebetter-
look ine man, of the two, by Jove! 'Pon
my life it woubl aHbrd me the greatest
plea-ure to salute the Rose of Castile as my
new mamma ! If she's so ready to obey her
futlur and marry the man of his ci.oice,
what can it signify whether it is Ravnr.ud
Tievannance, age sixty, or Vivian Tievan-
naiice, aped thirty?' <!
' Don't be a fool ! Talk sense, Vivian, ij
you can. I ran down here purposely to Sfeo
you toda\ , before the Chdesmorcs came,
and La'ly Evelyn with them. All the beat
irten of the kingdom arc at her feet.
Ametiiyst is making desperate hard running,
and Amethyst is the match of the season,
Now's your time, a-i I said, or never— takj
fortune at the flood, or some other man will
step in and bear off the loveliest lady in thai
land, under your very nose. I have no mora
to s.iy. You can do it. You know it will
cratify me--if you can rare for that — and
you'll never get such a wife again while tha
world waga 1
I iloii't int«rrnpt
re I if my Krwrt t«
1 piha, for which
may day iiothiiif(
ore. The J'arl and
•only yenterday,
rxtaiul (iiHtinotly
tppiiipttd his Bon.
more nmong his
stoiiisli. r as best,
imoil.-iting of tlia
B young laily talk
1 send you liere aa
er yourself — I ho
of the matter at
:onBeiitt!d,Rhe v. it!
fU'l of filial pi< tyt
■hnp'er out of < no
8 Freaking of (his
1 father com-
V the jjirl he has
in with a shilhiig
MH cjuv't do tiiai
oner.il ; 'we can't
ya' R«8t i« your
I wall in entailed,
is is yours, whe-
Kit ; hut my dear
;ry happy to S'^e
•, arfd my grand-
spoons in tlieir
red, languiiUy.
marry her you -
in,aii(l tiiebetter-
hy Jove ! 'Pun
me tlie greatrst
of Ca»tile as my
!a<lv to obey lier
I of his ci.oice,
r it is Raviir.nd
Vivian Tievan-
ense, Vivtan, il
: purposffly to sfeo
iilesntores came,
in. All the best
iro 9t her feet,
rate hard running,
1 of thy season,
or never— takj
10 other man will
eliest lady iu the
'. I have no mora
'ou kniiW it will
e for that — and
ac;ain while tha
LADY EVELYN.
Uith which the general produced his
dnunond-studd d anuH-box, aud refreshed
hmiself by an energetic pinch.
'Melo-drumatic— very I' was the languid
response of his son ; ' and so I have only to
throw tlie handkerchief— a ta Grand Mocul
—and my lady flies to pick it up. In other
words. I have only to open my arms, ond
fchi^li plump into 'em.'
'She'll obey her father, sir,' retorted the
general, hhsrply; 'more than can U naid
for many sous and dauj^htera at tha pr sent
day. '
'Personal.' said Vivi.in, 'but ci.rrrc'
Well, my dear sir, there's tl'> dressiUB-boll
Permit me t<> rinjf for thcin to show you to
your room. Spar, ni, blu^-hecf. r theprese t;
five mo time to compose my agitato.! feel-'
iniTS. Permit me to look upon mv future
tpo»a l)efore I agree to take her to fiiy bosom
1w life, and then— I'l- tli nk about it.
Edwards, show General Trevannance to his
apartments.'
The moment the door closed after the
atalwart Peninxiilar hero, Vivian se zed pen
and ink, and dashed off a telegram tu Vienna
and 8i Foulke Mount agle :
'Dear Mount: Don't forget the Nile
expedition. Look for me in a weik.
Trkvankance.'
CHAPTER IL
BATHEB ROMANTIO.
The Clyilosmores came down to Warbeck
Hall, ami witii them the Earl and Comuess
of Clontarf. and tlieir handsome daugiiter
It was a very fine place Warb.ck Hall
though neither so old, nor so grand, nor so
•toned as lioyal Rest. JL-ke its mu8ter,who
counted his ancestors scarcely a hundred
years bark, it was rather new ; but Lord
Ciydesmoio's wealth ami talents stood him
instead of the purest sanif azure..
They brou>.'ht a train uf visit rsdown with
them from the first, but p.>i haps more fol.'o ved
HI the li^dit of that da/zling meteor, Lady
Evelyn, than— keen sportsmen as they were
—came to knock over the partridges. On
thi evening following their arrival, th"re !
was a n:cipr,ion. at Warteck Hall—* very
brilliant aUair— to whicii scores of litledand
aiit-tled guests, from far and wide, came. ;
The fameof the won Irons Spanish beauty '
and her magnificent fortune, had preoeiitd
ner. ami every invitatio;! issn.";! sT -.. *.i
ed save one-Mr. Vivian Tr.vannanee"''^^a8
n. t present "t ni / Lady Clvdeomore's bd?
'Gone to Paris-weut, tba mornuig, post
baste. Received a telegram from a frieud
at tne point of death. Quixotic fellow.
Vivian, on the score of frieiKJship. Very
sorry, 'uU wouldn't have poatpoued it for the
crown of the world :'
And then Oeneial Trevaiinauce took snuff
and gnawed his silvery moustache uneasily.
behindhisl«rge white hand. The Earl of
Uontarf bowed, with a cyuical *mile, aud
glanee.l at his daughter.
' I be^'an to think that we are two elderlv
Idiots, rrevannanoe-l.ke two stiff-necked
latliers in a oomedy.makmg abhui.) matches
lor our sons and daugUters, s amping about
the stige very red in the face, and very
furious as to voice. durioB four acts, and
y el.li g to the low com dian, and the
soubrettes, and giving them our ble^sini/for
their di-ol.e(!ieiice, in the ♦iftli. We had
better drop that little matter we spoke of
a -lay or twongo. Amet„yst'8 a very good
lelli.w and he deserves to win her.'
Ves, he ceruinly deserved to win her if
UMtirii;g devotion could do it. He hovered
around her now, a great yellow-whisk.
ered moth in the .!a>:zling c.nd!e.
ttaine, scorching his mealy wngs.poor fellow
while the bri.liant Hame burned ou without
mercy. He kept fluttering near, drinkiii.
lAnrrorf.iia 1......1.*. i. ... *
>n that dangerous loveluiesi-tlie cold in.
difference with which she turned from him
and h)8 ducal coronet like oil added to (ire
.She w ,s rarely beautiful, this vouni
hpainsh patiici.in, with the lofty grac'e of i
ahe floated m a cloud of gold hued ereophl
ai.e. a Venus robed in sunljeams, with opals
clamping the arched thro ,t. the taper wrists.
oaiighng from tiie pink shell-like ears, an^
gleaming above the low, dusk br w The
purple black hair, that fell in a jetty cascade
of waves, and ripples, and curls to the taper
waist W.13 s^.ft and fine as floss 3iik_«
chevelure for au Andalusian countess The
clear, creamy white of the skin : the mouth
red as a June roae an.l sweet as a Uai,e'f \
the acquilino nose, with it's proud, curved
hw'L ' ,*''f '""*^' ^'^eP /Ia'l< nesof purplish
blue shade<l by sweeping, j tty lashes-i-ah,
wondrously lov-ely, ra.ely iovely, was th";
peerless Rose of Casti'e ! She mo; c<l up and
dcwn the lon« sni e of ..rawing rooms, with
a f^o,-.tmg, a.rv giuce all her own ; tl.e prince-
ly liead t.anghtily npheld-a • quee. of noble
ntuie's crowning.' "
'Confound the fellow !' muttered the old
Geneial. 'He's as obstimtc n.-apigand
as stiff-necked aa a Jew I If J thonj,)?; H,:.
"^...*S<."p lo trance w.-ss only a ruse— but
110, 1 saw tho telegram, an I 1 know that
lieaiichamps been at .leith's door for years •
Itwaaiio ruse. Vivian had really beei
LADT KVKLYN.
•ent for to Parii, by a dying friend, and had
really gone.
' Tliuiik heaven, I can dodge the yoke
matrinionial, witliout ollonding the gover-
nor 1' he tlioiiKlit, as the ' resonant steuin
eacle ' fitvr with him tar from K')yal Rett,
''n»e Rose of Castile is a gorgeous flower, no
doiilit, l>iit if one inuit pay tor the i>incking
by lilelonK sLivcry, why tlie gorceous Cns-
tilinn Rose may pine on the sti'm until
doomsday for me I No. my worthy parent ;
whi'n my fiftieth birthday and the gout net
in, I miiy turn my thoughts hymeneal ward.
Sooner tliati that— t-xfuse me !'
'I he friend, Henuchamp, nn English artist,
resident in Paris,— was very near liis '-nd
when Vvian got there. He found him
watched over by a hired nurse, and a little
pale-faced daughter ot nine or ten.
' It V/U1 on lier Aceount I have sent for you,
Vivian,' he anid grnspnig his fri'-ixl's hand,
and looking impiorirgly in his face with
hollow, haggnrtl eyes. 'When I go she will
bo entirely alone in the world. Vivian, iy
the memory of our sclioni hoy days, of our
old, tried friendship, you will he her guar-
dian, will you not? Take her frini Paris —
givo her snnio quiet Mnglish home. I have
but little to leave her, but that will suffice
until she is a woman, aud some good maa
makes her his wife.'
And Vivian Trevannance, to whom man,
woman, or cliihl never pleaded it; vain,
wrung hi-* friend's hand, and piomisei.
'Her hnn'.e shall he at lloyal Rost, ' he
•aid; 'Iter future hIuiII l« my care. R'uve
no fears of her, dear old boy ! Itlarian fiiali
be my da-ighter. '
And the dying artist had gone out of life,
his last wor'ls a * God bless you I' for his
friend ; and Vivian Ti'evanuance, though he
Btterly repudiated a wife, found himself,
willy nilly.s.iddled with adaughtor — a pallid,
desolate, little sprit'' - wan and bloodless as
a shadow. H' wiote a letter to his father,
telling iiim all. and pauked little missy and
her nur^e straight to England. For himself,
the ilead man's aft'iirs required his presence
in Paris for at least another wo'k. Tnose
affaiis settled, he must return to Devon for a
few day*, prep.u-atoiy to the great exp dition
■p the Nile.
• ' AimI l).)nna de Casiilia won't be able to
hold out against the ducal coronet, down in
the country,' he thought. * Ann thyist will
have the covtr-side all to himself, aud can
pop over his silver-winged bird of raradise
•piendidly. I'll have nothinar to do but con-
•ratiilate him wheti I '^et back.
He tluuight this as he rode across the
country on the afternoon of his return. The
Davon fields, the meadows, the moors, the
woodland, th« open country spread away
far and wide. Half unconsciously he let his
horse take its own course, smokini; his
Cubas, and thinking of poor Beauchamp and
his daughter.
• I must get a L'overness for her I suppose,'
he museil. ' Siie's too young to s*nd tf
school. The governor must liHik after her
while I'm in England. Poor Beauehamp I I
hope she won't take after him. Tliere was a
lile wasted — genius wrecked. Hollo Sala-
din ! Where the deuce are we ? Astray for
a ducat !'
He drew up bis horse and looked about
him. The afternoon was wearing late, the
sky was thickly overcast, black clouds
were hurrying away before the wind. A
storm was at hand, and he was in the midst
of a desolate plain, with olumps of woodland
in the distance, and no human habitation in
in view."
A vivid flash of lightning lexped out-
there was a crash — and then great ilrops l)e-
L'aii to patter on the tlry crscked earth.
There had been a loni; drotight, — all the more
tremendous would be the i'ain-Ht«riii now. "
' lu for a wet jacket! mnttereil Vivian,
'and a score of miles from home, and this
poor old beast giving (.ut already. Pleasant?
and as usual, no one to blame for my tolly
but myself. Ha ! a fellow-sufTerer as I live,
anil a lady at that!'
The equestrienne had skirted the wood*
laiiil and now drew up, as the lightning set
i,"r horsK rearing furiously. As she did so,
a man sprang out of the copse and grasped
her bridle-rein.
' Money ! he exclaimed, in a hoai-se, thick
voice. "Give me moufy 1 I'm starving !'
'I have no money, 'a clear, silvery voice
answered. . Let go my bridle rein I'
' I won't? If you haven't money, yon have
ringh, and watches, and chains. Give me
what you've got I tell you. I'm a desperate
man and not lo be trifled with.'
'You villain!' thundered a voice. 'Let
go the lady's rein, or I'll horsewhip yoa
within an inch of your life !'
The aggressor sprang back. He was a
short, thick-set man, with a pair of savage,
sinister eyes, and a head of grizzled reddish
hair, his face liiddeu by a huge muffler,
twisted scitntifically about it. He sprang
back, at the sight of the gentleman on a
powerful black horse branishiug aloft a
heavy riding-whip.
'Begone, I say !' thniidered this appari^
tion. 'before lam tempted to break yrur
• I...1I \f..#lA.n > *...»..;..» ...^. .«*... i» A... au^
' ■ 5 -•-<.fr-,"!rr!T i-J vtfa
lady, ' I trust this rulHun has not alanned
you
He looked at her for the first time, and saw
LaDY EVELYN.
41
) firit time, aud uw
the faireat f»c« it M<!ine(l to him apon which
Ins eyet had ever reittd. She wn» very pale,
but riot in the least t«frrified, as he could tee.
A piiir of hmtrous violet eyes, deep, dark,
•Inning M purple atarfi, turn d cravelv upoa
him.
* No,' ihe naiH, very simply, • ha did not
alarm me. He look* iia though he needed
what ho '!?r iii(t«, and I have no money.'
The v<,o( waa melo.ly iUalt, and' the
marked »( .e g,, accent with which ah.* spoke
rendered »!ie sdveiy tone sweeter still. She
lean«d forward a little in her saddle towj d
the cowering beyjjar, awaying like a * uuu
Wlllnw. "
' You look poor and wr tched,' she said in
her slow, sweet voice. * I am aoi rv I have
nothing to K ve you uow. Take tins.' She
drew a nntr from an ungauutleted hand
•Come to VV'arbeck H.li tomorrow, and
•end th.s to me by one of the servants— my
name is iiuidc— and I will moat aasuredlv
aanist yoH.'
• Thank you, my lady I' thoauppiiant said
with t!.e whine of his class. • I'm very p,>or
and ill ; I ve walked f ->m Pivmoutl. to.day
and I I'aven't broke,. n,y fast. 1 11 go to
Waib.ck Hall, mv lady ; and you won't
harm a p.or chap like me I.ecause lie attack-
ed you in his desperation?
• Harm you !' The lovely violet eyes look-
6(1 at him m proud surprise. ' I have said I
will assist you. G.. !' The man slunk back-
war,!, gazmg with glistening eyea upon tlie
rich ring.
Ah he turned it over, the name insi.le
struck Ins eye ; the next a loud cry of fear
rape, surprise rang ouf. '
With that cry, he was back before her
looking up in the proud pale face with a I
W(,lfi8li jjlare in his liapgard eyes.
'The name inside the ringl' he cried
breathlessly. -• the name I Is it your name'
my lady?'
'It is my name, of con se,' was the haueh-
ty answer. ' Wl.at is my name to yon ?'
' What do you mean, you rascal »' ex-
claimed the gentleman. • Be off with you
this instant. Have you not annoyed the
lady ,.nongh already? Madam, the rain
wil fall lu torrents directly. We must
make for some place of shelter at once. '
The lady looked around— over the spread-
ittii plaiu and lonely high road— with a faint
■tniie.
' Shelter I The woodland is yonder cer-
I tain.y ; but the womlland is scarcely the
•jife^t place in tliit lightning. There is no-
I tliiiiff for it but to ride hninnward •>»'i ■
I w ^, ri^'"°fi- ^""^ far w it, air, to'u'arb^'k
I Hall r
' iught milei^ at i«>Mt— «ltogetlier too f«r
for you in this downponr. Look I there ia
amoke aac. nding you.ler among the treea i
there may be a house, a hiit, a habiutiou ol
•ome sort. Let na make for it at once. '
She l>owed her head, an<I dashed forward,
n sh after fla^h of lightning plave.t aho/s
tliem now; the cradling of the thun-
«ltr was d.-afeni'ig, and the rain literally fell
in torrents. The Septemlnsr afternoon waa
•lark almost aa niirht. Their horses made
the woodland in five minutes. The smoks
still feebly ascended-^it arose Iroin a can.p-
hre almost quench sd in the plash of iho rain.
No house presented iist^lf ; instea.l, tiir e oi
four priiniMve tenU and inverted wiiKirons
to d at a glance what the place was.
* A gipsy encampment, l,y George !' crifd
Trevannance. ' Well, better that than the
open plain in this deluge. Hero my man,
we want shelter under your canvas— thi»
lady ami I— until the storm bh-ws ov. r '
Tl>egipsy-atail. olive.«kini.e<l, handsonio
fel„w— bowed to the lady with the grace of
a Parisian.
• You are welcome, both, to our tente.
Itiara,ti. up the horses. Redempta, give
the lady and jje-xtleman a place in your tent
until the storm is over.'
Treviniianoe leaped from hi« horse, and
gave h s hand to the ladv to dismount She
sprang off lightly, and hurnod with lum in-
to the ncirest tent, where i «hiskv younff
woman stiKxl, Holding up :he oanvaa door-
way.
In 11 ting the folds of her long ridiug-skirt.
she chanced to drop her w!iip.
' Never mind !' Trevannance aaid : ' do
not wait, I will leUirn for it.'
He left iier iu the tent-the rudest and
mcst primitive of structures— littered and
dirty to a degree, and filled with a dusky
swarm, old and young. Stianaelv and sti ik.
mglyoutof place thaJair in radVr looked
atanding nnion« the darkbrowed Arab tril)e'
in her proud, patrician beauty ai»id highbred
grace, diamonds flashing in her ears and on
her slender white linds.
•Who the deuce can she be?' Treran-
nancM wondered. ' She is lovely as a Peri of
the Poet. I can never have seen her before
and yet somehow her face is tamiliar.'
He sttMiped to pick np tli* whip. It waa
an exquisite toy— inlaid with gold and
enamel. A watch, the size of a ahilliuir.
piece, was inserted in the end. Above, there
was an earl's ooronef, and in UtUtn of ffold
the name, ' Evelyn Desmond. '
I!» THE CIMY CAMP.
Aad 10 they had met I Fate, thitt woika
firi
4tf
LAUV KVBLVN.
in itH own m«»(terly way, in npif* of our puny
efforts, had tlirnwo tliein together after thia
roriiantic la«hion. Me wm fi'i'f^R ^ trifling
mat for of Kurnu thonsantU of miles to avoid
her, ati'l lo I iii tiie iiisthourof liisiid>unt
in Kii^land, the enulii>utic8i arose Iw-fore
liim, to leul him captive among the Klaves at
her chnriot wiieolH, wh«<thor hu wonhi or no,
' Tht- (Jreiit Irri-aiHiilile herwlf, by (ieoi->»e !'
exclaimed Tievanniinec, with a Unin, low
whistle; 'and, dolt and diin<lerliead that I
am, I never Hiin|M;uit;d it, even when I heard
of Wirhnck tiall. Ih it fate ? and am I to
piny li'tiiedict, the Married Man, willy nilly?
Mv fii'h I I mijiht seek the world over, aud
uevcc liiiil so fair a Beatrice.'
Qiiit<' heedless, in his lirst aurprisn, of the
pouring r.niii, he walketl hack to the tent.
8h« stood wlvre hi hn<l left her, ^mzing out
at the U-ariiig lightning, the slanting,
stfLMnis, the lihick ^ky. And in tli« primi-
tive doorway, steadfastly regarding her,
Reileinpt.i — a viviii cjiitra«t,
' Yon have «tiffure<l in my sorviee, sir
kiii ht * she said, with her brilliant smile :
'my whip was not worth yonr drciiching. '
•It is worth a IniiidrHd drencliings, seno-
ritft, ' lie s.iid, presenting it to her, with a
courtly liow, 'niiice it hns tol<l me whom I
have tiie liniiom of serving. They tilk of
fliitertaining angels unawares — iny Rase pr^-
ciKC'ly. M:iy 1 recill an old aoquaintance to
Lady Evelyn Desmond's nifeinory ? or have
seven years coiiip etely ohiiteraled even tlie
name of Vivian Trevaunance from her recol-
leetion ?'
Siie looked at him. and held out her hand
with frank gi'ac<-, the Ix-iiiitiful gnively-
sm'ling mouui indeRci'iliably sweet and
gciitie.
'Do me jiiNtice, senor ; my memory is
lietter than your own—since 1 knew yoii at
once the first instant we met. Seven years
is a tohniUlc time ; bnt it has not chanirml
Mr. Trevannance in tito lca.st. Since who'-
ll iive yon returned? We thought you k:.
France.'
• 1 w 8 I>nt on my honiewrrd way when
I hrcaine the dchtur of a most ha)>pychance.
And now— presuming on old ac<)imintanue —
may 1 ask how I came to find you alone, and
in peril from that iiiKolpiit bi gear?'
'By my own caprice — which I have to
ilianU for all tlie mishaps of niy life. We
went tliis aft rnoon to Visit some very ro-
mantic Druidical ruins, and on our homeward
way I separated from tht rest of our party,
and, before I knew it, foniid myself hope-
lessly lost an«l Iwwildered. Wie storm was
D eiik'n*^ tite bri"^!!'.! !i*.'ra!*'* on^ «*«•) api.>.-..i
my horse, and, a«. all kiiigiit^i-errand should.
yoQ rode to the rescue at the v«ry iustaut
when I nefided you mrmt. Itis like* smm
iu Don QiiixoM) or Ainadis I)e (JhuI. '
* A <lonbtfiil oomplimnet, l^idy Kvelyn i I
am Don Qnitote, Is'ippcwe I Well, even th«
anti(|iiated rilter at windmills mi^ht beom*
a knight-errant in the service of Lidv
Evelyn.'
' Fray don't I' Lady Evelyn said a little
imp.itiently ! 'I di tint comp'imenta. and—
those who pay them I I am in your debt
— <lon't cancel the obligation with hackney-
ed pli rases.'
* With which yon are surfeited. But
there %r« thoHe to whom truth must ever
■oninl like compliment. Yon have mad*
one captive at least, La.iy Evelyn, since
yonr entrance h 'le,' lowering liis tone.
'Ijook at yonder dark brown gipey — she
gazes like one entranced.'
He glanced t .vard Redempta ; Lady
Evelyn followed ' ••; eyes.
• What a handsome Arab it it I A face for
Muiillo or Salvator, and a suitably dtiaky
background. But they are all staring, and
moflt uncomfortably. Really. 1 hope we are
not storni-bonnd for any length of time |.-
Tliey will l)e SO anxious, mamma particular-
ly, when th n'st return without me. Are
you weather-wise, senor? Are there any
symptoms of its clenring np — must we ven-
ture forth in the sti rm after all ?'
' It is clearing oflT.' Trevsnn.mce laid, de-
cidedly. 'Seel the clouds are lifting over
yonder already. In half an hour, senorita,
we may ride forth in safety. Fray do not
rejrret the mischance that has brought you
an adventure, and me whit will remain the
biij(litest memory of my lile. '
His eyes spoke more eloquently than word*
or tone— and they spoke eUxinently enough,
heaven knows ! The beautiful short u|ipor
iiig of Donna Castilia curled scornfully.
' It is your nature, I suppose— you gentle-
7nen — to flatter. You cam iit lielp it, it
seems, and it is a pity. Besides,! have heard,
the languagoMr. Vivian Trevannance thinks
women worthy of. Madam la Conitesse de
Fortici says so, at least?'
The clear, violet eyes looked at him with
a world of quiet mischief in their depths.
The fair and flirting Italian countess had
been one rt Trevannance's latest lovo«, and
he had slipped her flowery fetters coolly ofif
his faithless wri.stc — wheathe humour took
him. Hut ho met the clondless sapphire
eyes now with a moat engaging air of in-
jured innocence. ~*
• Ah, La Portict will be mnlicious !—
Si-vrtys W55. Ikir.'t believe h.r, I &iii tha
most can<lid of men, and alwas mean what I
■ay, aa you will discover upon furtliw ao<
trmt. It IK lik« • mmm
adiii Dn Oiiul. '
mnet, l^tdy Kvelvn ; I
pp(*e J Well, even th«
iiilnnllR n)i|.ht bcomt
the Btrvice of Latif
Kvelyii Mid s little
t comp'imcnta, and—
1 am in yntnr debt
gation with hackney.
are snrfeited. Rut
>m truth iiiuit iver
It. You hnvo nia<)«
t*i!y Kvalyn, ■incc
lovMTJng i.iit tone,
i-k brown uipty — alte
•d.'
d R«dempta j Lady
rs.
Arab it ia ! A face for
id a snitahly diiaky
Y are all Btaring, and
Renlly, 1 hope wp are
riy length of tiiH« |,-
», ninmina particular.
n without nv. Are
lor? Are there any
"f? "P — '""at we ven-
after ill?'
Vevaimance said, do-
nils are lifting over
ilf an hoic, aenorita,
ifety. Priy do not
lilt has brought yna
bt'tiit wilt remain th*
y lile.'
eloquentlythan word*
■e elo(|uently enough,
laiitifiil short U))pur
urled Bcoriifnlly.
giippo.ie— you gentlo-
caiii i)t help it, it
Beiideg.I have heard,
n Trtjvaiinaiice thinks
utani la Conitesae de
y
•8 looked at him with
ief in their depths,
talian countess had
ce's latest lovo«, and
cry fetters coolly off
it'ikthe humour took
; clondless sapphire
engaging air of in-
•ill be malicious ! —
ul al\v;i8 mean what I
Br upon furtbu ao.
LADY liiVKLYM.
49
qnaintanee Apropoa, Lady Evelyn, do yoa
remain long i ■ l)«vonBliir« ?'
' I roally uinnot say. It depends upon
rpa, and papa ia aa whimaical aa a woman.
Iiopi- not.'
' Y<'u hop* notT How cruel yon can b«l
M.ty I ask whyT'
' H eaiiHC 1 should like to go t>i Ireland.'
Hhe xaiit it tireamily, h If to herself, gaz-
|ii(^ a little HMtUy outat theetill pouring ram.
I aliould like to go to Ireland —to Clun-
tarf. They tell me it ia in ruins now. I
have nevir aceo it, you know ; and yet Clon-
tarf, siot Coat ill', should have been my birth-
place. Il is the dream of my litcto go therel'
* And yet I thought the Knr\ ot Clontarf
but lived to ({Til', if y yourunexpressed wishes.'
' He will not gratify this, at least — ex
firesned very often. It is od I, the aversion
le has t.i return there, Mnmiiia, too — ' she
broke off sudilt-nly, aa if uunoyeil at heravH.
' See, Mr. Trevaiinauce, the clomla are
soatterinualrvaily.'
' Anil the clouds that are to darken and
blieht your life are gathering,' said a deep,
Bolomii voice.
It was Kodempta, standing with folded
arms, and fflittering. beaJyblaok eyes,
gazing upon tier snest.
* .M y pretty lady, let Redempta tell your
fortune.'
But I..adv Evelyn drew back rathef haugh-
tily, ami waved her away.
' Th ink you — no. It does not open ao
promisiitL'ly. I will wait, and let the future
reve.il it.^lf. '
'N:iy, my pretty lady, do not refuse
Redempta. Her predictions never fail. Let
me look in y >ur dainty paim.and foresee your
destiny.'
' No— I never tempt the future, in earnest
or in jest. Bfsides, I have no silver where-
with to cross your palm, and the oiacle, like
otiicr orach'S, is a golden one, and will not
apeak unless liril)ed.'
'The g<ntleinan will cross the cipsy's
p;»lm. My lady— so handsome, so haughty
—let Redempta warn you of what is to
come. '
'It is evil, then? You really must hold
me excused.'
' Piay gratify her whim,' said Trcvan-
nance. ' It h !»ll tliat is wanting to com-
plfte the adventure.'
Bit the wilful beauty turned away, a little
disdainfully.
' I'ardon me — not even to gra^iify her
whim. I have said I do not tempt the
future, even if your dusky seeress cou'd lift
liie (niiUlili, Wiiicii i Yt-iy i^ti-kiUy viOU!.>t.'
' Others have doubted,' broke in the deep
touea of the gipsy, ' and have found to their
coat that Redempta speaks what the stArt
whisper. You will not lot m read your
palm, my iMiautiful lady, but the face telle
Its own story ; and as you stand there, is
your beauty and your pride, I can *<a that
that brilliant bf'auty will bo your bane —
that lofty pride be laid low ! Hhama and
sorrow, sutlering and disgrace, pissioaate
love, and of that lovo p.-\ssionat« misery, are
in store for you, my lovely, high-bom
Spanish beau y 1'
The proud, pale face of the haughty
Caatiliau grew paler still with intense angor,
and the violet eyes grew bloc-k with sup|ii ca-
sed passion.
"Cease !' nhe coinuvinded, with an iiiiperi-
ons wave (■' her hniid, an imp 'i imi^ ring in
her v.iico. You are in»oh'iic? l.,ct tu go,
aeno 1 prefer enduring the a.urui to ihi<
womiiii's iinportineiiue !'
' It 14 tr.itli !' Redempta xaid, witH a
grave majesty o.' her own. ' Your fate is in
your face I Ami yon, my gentleman— y.)U
will let the p(.)Or gipay tell your fortune, will
you nott'
' No— stand aside I Nonsense we might
endure ; but you, my bl ick-browed aibyl,
arc i an 'erably iiiYpertiuent. Ltdy Kvelyn,
let me e trca. you to linger yet a few mo-
moiits — it still rains heavily. I will compel
this woman to b- silent.'
'Slie will not be silent, unless yon let her
predict for you,' Redcmp'.a said, loftily.
' Tlien pretlict and be hanged to yoa i
Make your iipeei ing as ngrcable as possible
for the money.' He gave her lialf a crown.
Redempta took the slender, sli.ipaly hand lie
fiieiten.'ed in her own dingy fingers, and bent
ow above it.
• I see here wealth and honour, many
friends and varied fortunes. 1 see here
broken vows, and a fair brido won and lost.
I see a wicle ocean to be crossed, and a
maiden less fair than she you h-ave behind,
who wdl win yo'ir heart in Kpite of yourself.
The bridft Vou will wed, my handsome gentle-
man, will he as bright as the stars, with eyea
and hair of midnight blackness. She waits
for you, even now. in a lnt;d beyond the sea.'
She dropped his hand, crossed her own
upon her Ixisom, and stood gazing at him
with wide, unwinking black eye!<. Trcvan-
nanct. laughed.
' Thanks, mv handsome Zineara ! So fair
a future is well worth yonr half 'Town. You
perceive, Lady Evelyn, how silver-tongued
the seeress grows under the influence of coin
of the realm. Pity to keep that black-eyed
bride, who awaits n y coming in siiHpunse so
•0;i^ i 1 iciir s"tC 'w.;* t^c r^z vi-c en*- cr iicr
patience liefore I go after her. If one only
Knew where that " laud beyond the aea
LADY BVBLYN
hj, now. Your detcript on, mjr duiky R*-
ii«iiipt«, it |K>etic aixl vapfue, liut nut lo ex-
plicit aa an imp«tieut l>ii(l«Kru«>m might
wi«h. '
' Von mock Redeinpta,' th« gipny Mid,
|rr»vely, turning nway •, ' Nuvertheleii* Re-
deniptA'i wordN will come tiu« befura another
jtLT rollt over your lie.ul. '
'The rain hat chumiI, Mr. Trevannance, '
broke ia the low, musical voice of Lie ooin-
panion. 'Shall we eo ?'
Trevannance liowt-d, offered her hit arm ;
•nd flung a handful of ■hilliuga among th«
gip<-y swarm as be went out.
The rain had ontiiely ceased, and as t'ley
passed from the tent the hidden sun burst
furth with a sudden blaze of indesuribftble
glory, li);liting the dark buidscapc, the drip-
ping trees, tlie queenly benuty by his si' e,
and the croiuhing figure of a man, half hidden
auKing a clump of aldais.
' Yiiur brigand once more I' Trevannance
•aid. 'Well sirrah I what ia it you want?'
For the crouching figure bad arisen and
approached tlieni, bis baleful, greenish eyes
fixed greedily u|M>n the lady.
' I WAut n wonl with that lady — only a
word. I don't inenn any iHirm.'the tattered
suknown answered, still steadily advancing.
' Well,' L.ady Evelyn said, facing him,
coldly, ' wlitit is it ? .Speak out !'
' The name iuside tins ring, my lady — it
is yours ?'
' Have I not said so ? What is my name
to you !'
'Only this, my I^'iy — that if you be the
Lady Kvelvn D.sinonti. your father must b«
the Earl of Clontarf ?'
' Ho is the Karl of ClonUi f. '
' Thank von, mv liidy I And is he, too,
at Waibeck Hall ?'
' Yes. H.ive you ai.y more questions to
ask :'
* You t ncourage his forwardness too far,
Lady Evelyn. The imperii nonce of tl ese
tranii>s is beyond belief. Begone fellow
or—'
He flourished bis whip, and the tramp
slunk Hway with a whine.
' I meant no harm. Thank you, my lady !
ni be sure to call at VVarbeck Hall with
your inj,' to-miirrow.'
•That's a Vfiy singu'ar beKgar, ' Lady
Evelyn s.iid, as TrivaniiancL- placed In r m
the s»<ldle and adjusted her stirrup. ' What
•ould he pohsibly snean 7'
'Only his insolenor-. The better way to
dispose of those ptuniv Ijcgt'ars— poachers
and thieves by profession — is to hand them
Tliey da«hod off together — the tall, slender
figure of the fair equcotrionne loc'kiiif ita
bast, aa sha aat bcr hot to aa eaaJly aa a r««k«
iug cliair.
Trevannance thou^'ht involuntarily al
Queen Guinsvere and the laur«ii(«'s liuta i
I ' Hho looked so lovely, as she swayad
{ The rein with dainty finger tipa,
I A man had given all other blins
I And all hia<vorldly worth for this,
^ To waste his whole heart in one kiaa
Upon her perfect lipo. '
' HoDonr thy father, that thy da s may fa*
lon^ ill the Isnd I' thought Trevannance,
gnxiiig on that exquisite face. ' It would ba
a |)ity to disappoint the two governorx, sinoa
they have set their hearts on the niatcli— a
greater pity to give all thi* perfect beauty
to that dolt. Amethyst. MypeerUss Ro^a
of Castde, do you dream, i wonder, thai
your future husliand ride.i by your side?'
And while the cavalier ' and bis lovely
lady galloped gnily away towar<l the setting
siin, the beggar in the inky cloak irared
himself upright and watched them out ol
sight with vengeful, tigerish eyes.
' F'or twenty vears he has pionpered. Aa
carl's coronet, ill-forgotten, has graced iiia
head ; the woninn he loved has been hia
own ; wealth, and honour, and greatness
among men— all are tiis. For twenty yeara
I have hmn an outcast snd a felon, ill sn<l
poor, despised and forgotton, and hia
daughter flings me alms aa she would meat
to a dog I Well it is my turn now, and I'i<
tear the coronet from bis head, the h'liiour
from his name, the wife from his b( «tom I
' I lower that beautiful, Imughty head of
yours, my lovely Lady E elyii, to" the dust I
Ro<leric Uesmnnd, in his bloiody grave, »>mlt
be avei.ged at last i'
CHAPTER IV.
MOTBKIl AND DAUUBTER.
She lay on a low couch Ik fore the fire.
Inez, Countess of Clontarf. A coutirtned
invalid, she was always chilly. AccustonHti
to the tropic heat of her own lovely, sunlit
Ian<l, Eng an '. with its cobl rains, its easter-
ly winds, ana damp sea fogs, was only ren
dei»d emlurable, even in its warmest sum-
iiier munttis, by a glowing fire. She lay.
back ftuiid the silken, rose-hucd pillows of
her 1' iinge, watching the red glow of tha
emb< rs, whilst the gleam of the wax-lighta
shone down on her pale, dark, delicita
beauty — in the velvet d' pths of toe soleiuii.
- r, ~J — . — ••• • •"" ••"'—"•:■•'. '-r=tii::uj irps,
compresKed in a hard, thin line of pain. Sha
looked like soma frail waxan iapouic*-—
LADY KVKLYN.
DAOtinTER.
tofflly mdH fragila, pal* m • miow-wr'>«th,
aii< ifitii (ie<'p liiiea of inoiitli. Hnuiitifut
•h« iriu»t b« er«r, even in ilocAy— but it
WM « worn and wi-nry beauty uow, anil the
rare •mile that cumc ami went •<> swiftly wm
•olil aa inoonahiii on anuw. The dainty
little lK>ad(iir wiut all that heart could d'sire
• wea th pr(>ciir<>, <>r r«Hue<l taate auf{gcat
Ita roM hangiiiua gh'** a ddlicioui air of
warmth and inalTowncaa. It* silver swingins
thaiideliera ; ita in aid toilet tubl<«, draped
in lace ; ita lolty miirora, fiumed in Dres-
den : iia ^eninied vaaea, filled with rarest
iowers ; rta crystal carallrn of perfume j
ita woiidrtiufi hrautiea, amiliiig down from
the r()s<i-'iiiti-d walls ; ita exquisite itat-
■ettei*. af{leani in the silvery wax-liKht — all
w«-r<' pirfect of their kind, aad fitted np a
•hniiilter for a qneen.
i 'i<ly Clontarf, wrapp«>d in a potd-tinted
vff^/i'^/r of aoftext Indian texture, her Ion;;,
•liiiiiiiit hair uuliound, lay and gased with
dt-rk, brooi'inK eyes into the crimson heart
ef the fire. Outside, the rain beat and
the wind blew, the tosiiing trees in the
park moaniHi wearily, and the solemn voice
of the mifrlity, ceaseleM sea cnmo born" to
her, fitfully, in the lull of the gale. Tiie
Inst >lay of September was ending in a wild
Ui|!lit.
Tlie great house was Yeiy stUl ; ita inmates
had gone to tlu.ir rooms to dress for dinner.
The little silver-voiced otmoln clock above
hop head pointed its golden hands to eight
as she g'anced up.
' She snrely must have returned lonn ago,'
fhe tliouglit, a liMlc uiit-nnily. ' Strange
ilio (lid not come toseo ipeat once !'
As the thonglit cros&ed her niiml, there
camo a soft tip on the panel, followed by a
sweet, young voice.
• It 'B I, nmiiima. May I come in ?'
' Cuine ill, my darliuff,' L^ y ClDntarf au-
SW(>r«d. • I have been waiting for you.'
The door opened, and her diughter. Lady
Evelyn, stood before her In Fer dinnor-
dress of wliite silk iun\ misty ' or-
oii.il of scarlet caiiifllias cp" ,, . ich
almndano of bluoblack , the lofty
grace of the regal form, the brilliant fight
in til" violet eyes —ah, nut one o! the lautled
beauties, Iwaining down from the draped
walls, waa oue whit lovelier than the Koee
of Cistile !
■ My Evehii V ft mother murmured,
fondly, ' I h.iVu I ii-ed for you, my darling.
They told me you had missed yonrway and
|«.tlo»t.'
• K'Kilish namma I' — the radiant beauty
|b( nt to kiss the pale, tweet fnce no like her
i*wii — ■ tiiey 8nont(i not have told yon. 1 i
tiu\ u»Mi my way— WM attacked by a bri>;and '
— Mved \n Lrallant oavaliir— overtaken by
a violent stoi in— sheltered iii a gipey eamp^
And lohl my future hy a handsome sitana I
All together an adventure, dearest moUi«r,
was it not ?'
8he laughed softly, and stood np against
the white marble ot the chimney-piece, the
mellow gl'iw of the wax-lights streaming
down on the scarlet coronal and rich floit-
tng laoee — a pioture to haunt an artist to bif
^rave.
' AtU ked by a brigand ! 'tij dMr Eva.
lyn I' Her mother cried.
' Romnntio, mamma, bat quite tme. Per*
haps he waa a i>eggar, not a brigtnd ; but it
comes to the same thing, since he seiied my
horse and demanded money. As I had na
money, he demande<l my watch and jewels |
and would have had them, too, without
doubt, only on the instant rode up my cava-
lier to the raacoe. '
' Your cavalier t One of the gantUmen ia
the house, of course ?'
' Not at all — a stranger. That it to say—
I dare say you remember him — Mr. Vivtaa
Trevannnnce.'
' Ah r
The countess moved imnatiently amid her
cushions, and looked up swiftly in her
daughter's face. But that b«-aiitiful faca
was supremely careless— the violet eyes full
of laughini; light.
* You recollect, mamma, he visited ut,
seven years ago, in .Spain. He hsii forgot-
ten me, hut I rcmemliered bim at once. lit
took me for s:<elter to the gypsy (Miiip, and
accompanied n;e home. As the storm was
breakini; ngiin when we reached here, I in-
vited him to enter, but he dt-cliiied. He
would have gone on, I believe, in the pour-
ing rain, to P lyal Reat, hut that Lord
Clydesmore 8' papa chanced to appear,
and they rea juk him captive by main
force. '
' Ah !' the coutitcts said again, very
thoughtfully. 'And ho dines her> thiseven-
ing ♦ What is ho like, this youii man ?'
Lady Evelyn lojked at her niotber ia
surprise.
'You asking questions, mamma, and in-
terested in the appearaiK of Mr. Vivian
Vict'.r Trevannanoe (you see I know his
nam. ,. What will happen next ♦'
' Tell me, mv dear '
• What iH he >ike ? RealU f am not sura
that I can. Fie ii handno;u<:, certainly —a
stately and trallant gentleman, with the
perfect ni.an-. rs' and finiohed ease of a
courtier; hut what is the c lour of hit
eyes, or the hnr of his hair, or th«
»/iape of hit * . », I am not prepared ta
say. H «ff/er. mauima.' with her tav.
LADY KVKLYN.
(lad smile. ' a« you appear interested in the
iul.jeot, I will take a iue..t;»l photogr .pli^ of
mv preaciver for your hw 'it, at iliniiir.
Tho ooiinteaa looked up, with earnest
wonla on lior lips, but liefore she could utt.r
them the gnai bell up in the windy turrets
clanged tor dinner.
'1 must leave you, mamma. Ah, it you
conld but comedown. It it cruel to leave
you licre alone.'
'Better here, mv dearest. I would bo
bnt the nkeleton at tlie feast, and there is
onlv you to miss me. Go— '.e happy, and
young, and Deautilul. while you may.
Gatlier life's roses while tliey bloom. Only
come back here bjfure yon retire.'
'With Mr. Trevannce's portrait ? Certainly,
mammi. Until then— '
Sh« kissed the palo brow liRhtly, then
BW.-pt from the room, her silvery drap, ry
floating liglitl) a'^on'l'^""' ""'^ ^*"'' ""
loftv, beautiful grace of a young deer.
Left alone, the countess sank back among
the ciisiiicns with a heavy, weary sigh.
' She is lovely as a dream. She is hope-
ful and young -as I was once. Ah, Z>/o.'f .'
what a weary while ago it seems. Will
thev blight her life, too? -will she lovo this
man to whom they will wed her? She does
not know, she speaks of him so hghtly. If
Bhe only dreamed— my boautiful. proud
Evelyn— that, whether she will or no, she
must many him. He is made of iron, her
father. What is siie tliat she should venture
to oppose his will? She is heart-free now.
Oh, pitiful h.aven, let her love this man
whom she must wed.'
Backward her thoughts went drifting
nineteen years, to a drearily-loveless bridal
—loveless on her part at least. Gerald Des-
mond had been a successful man. He had
won all for which he had plotted— all. I he ,
coronet that hid been the dream of his hfc,
the title he had coveted so passionately, the
woman he had loved with a Herce, savag ■,
burning love, the heiress, whose wealUi had
restored the greatness and splendour of a
fallen name— all had been his. He had
taken his scat in Parliament— he had made
his name famou-. as the name of profound
gtatetman. a stiiiiii'.' orator, a lender among
the leaders and law inakors of mankind. His
ambition had been satiated to the full. The
Earl of Clontarf was a synonym for all that
was great and good. Ho lia^l endowed
hospitals tounded asylums, pleaded for the
down-trodden ami the oppr«H.-ed, reformed
almshouses, and iieaded muniricently every
,j.-pt.i.if. work • ai d yet. since the tierce
fire of hifi love for the woman he had wed
had burned iUelf out. and that ere the
honeymoon month had ended, iheru wan no»
in all the wide kingdom a more miserabl*
man than this liidden assassan who had
slain his friend. r, ■, ■ ta-
For. dead and in his grave. Roderic l>e«.
mond pursued him and outrivalled him still.
With his first wed.led kiss warm on lierlips,
her lost lover had risen liefore Inez Desmond,
reproRchful and pale, and with one, faint
moaning word— his name— she had slipped
back in a dead faint in her new-made hus-
band's arms. He had stood between them
from that hour ; and now that nineteen year*
had passed and gone, the memory of the
bright, Uautitul lover of her youth was
dearer to tho Countess of Clont irf than her
living lord had ever been in the hours when
Bhe had striven to love him most.
He had murdered Rmleric IX-smond but
Roderic still claimed his lost brideby right
divine of that deathless love. There hadl)een
tim38 when, in the midst of his mpassioned
caresses, his emlearing words,so coMly borne
and never returned, he had liurled h*r from
him, in a paroxysm o» rage and d>>pair, and
rushed from her presence. There were
times when, madly as he worshipped her,
he could have taken a dagger and plunged
it into her very heart —that heart of ice to
him— forever gone with the bright-haired
youth, 80 fouler slain in his strong young
manhood.
Anil then, as passion unreturned must,
that fiery love had died out, and given way
to sullen hate. Ah, how brief the bouiulaiy
ever is between loving and hating, and the
warmer the love tiie bitterer the hate.
Gerald Desmond slowly but surely, grew to
hate his wife. He hated her now above all
earthly things, and bitteily made her feel it.
In the hour win n his child was born, he had
wished with all his soul for its mother's
death, for that pale mother, looking up
from her pillows with great, dark, ddated
eyes. that seemed burning into his bad heart,
had canght his wrist in her cold, wan Pngeie,
anil whispend woirdiy :
* Gerald, the cood God has sent me com-
fort at laat ! Sle looks at nie with my lost
darling's eves !'
And then she had fallen back, ^e poor
pale lips murmuring things pitiaHy sail
' singing fragments of the old Spanish ballads
Rory had loved and which she nevei
had suuif since hie lo^s. And a curse dee]
and miutity, had come eru.shed through
Lord Clontarf's set teeth. In that hour he
could have strangled motlwer and ihihl. For
tUe frail mite of baViyhood ga/ing up with
wide-open eves from billows of flannel and
muslini and face, look, d at iiini iiid«e«i Vvith
the wondrous violet eyes whone tiuht hit
LADY EVELViN.
47
ended, tlieic wa« no*
n a more iniwrabl*
1 as8aBsan wbo bad
gnvve, Rwleric De».
1 ovitrivaileil him still,
kiss warm on herlipi,
1 liefore Inee Desmond,
Etiid with one, faint
imo— she had slipped
I her new-inarie hus-
stood between them
ow that nineteen yeam
the memory of tho
r of her youth was
! of Clontirf than her
[■enin the houia whea
e iiim most.
[lo<lerio Desmond buk
lis lost brideby righ*
m love. There had been
idst of his mpassioned
; words, so uoMiy borne
e had burlu'l h?r fDm
; rafie and d»'>pair, and
presence. There were
he worsliipped hfT,
idiijfger Rud plunged
— that heart of ice to
ith the bright-haired
I in his strong vouug
on uuretnrned must,
ed out, and given way
ow brief tlie bouiuiaiy
g and hating, and the
iie bitterer the hate,
wly but surely, grew to
ted her now above ali
itteily made her feel it,
ciiild was born, he had
soul for its motiur's
mother, looking up
II preat, dark, dtlatca
niiig intx> his bad heart,
in her cold, wan Puguie,
God has sent me com*
oks at me with my lost
1 fallen back, tbe poor
g things pitianly sad
tlie old Spauisii ballads
iid wliicli she nevei
1S8. And a curse dee],
tome trushed throut(h
teeth. lu that hour he
I motlwer and child. For
ibyhootl ga/.in^ up with
) billows of flannel and
uki'd al iiiiii iiitMcii Vvitti
it eyes whotfl liuht his
red right hand had quenched two years
before. •
H'tt the frail bal>e grew and flo'iiished,
an the father loved her with the only lant-
iiig, pnie, and unselfish love of his life. And
once more he loved in vain. As her mother
ba<i been ere her birth.so the child had been
to him— c >ltl as snow, passioiile^is as marble
subroittini; to ids careuses, never, never
returning them with one word, one thought
of love. It was hit punishment— ir part of
it — and the deep, dnrk, violet eyes haunted
him ever, like some avenging ghost. All
day long they giiKed at him in his daughter's
beautitul face ; and at niyht— oh. Heaven !
— ill the deep, still, solemn Watches of long
summer mooulighi, of wild wiutry storm,
Rory Desmond roue up before him — the
gold hned lair dripping with brine, the
brilliant azure eyes stoned and fixed— pale
and lioiribie from his deep-sea grave, until
the cold diops rolled down the watcher's
livid face, and bis hands had clenched in
agony.
M •!! wondered why the great statesman's
hair hail silvered so soon— why, at fifty, he
was more worn, and hai.'gard, and pallid,
and hollow-eyed, than mi ;> of eighty — ami
get it down til pi'ifounil Btiidy and ciaseless
mental labour. An<l of ;ill the world his
world — only his wife knew or guessed.
For .1 horrible foreshadowing of the truth
had dawned upon her Had she not heard
hin>, in his fitful and broken sleep, toss hi»
arms and strug.;lo wildly, and cry out with
adieadful voii'o of agony that had pealed
through the silence of the stiii night ? Had
she not heard that one beloved name shriek-
ed in his frenzy ? Had she not heard broken
fragments that, strung together, told the
wh(»le L'risly tale? Up to that time she had
•triven to do her duty — 8triven»to like him
— to overcome her loathing and repugnance;
but Hhe never strugglejl again. She had
faced him, one morning, after some bitter,
insulting wonls flung at her by him, with a
terrildo light in her eyes that he had reaHoii
to remember all his life loug.
' Distard !' she cried, m a voice that
rang : 'cowar'.l and traitor ! Women of my
r»ce have dealt death for a tithe of what you
have dareil say to me ! Utter such woniK
to me again and by all I hold holy, 1 wib
give you <ipto the gf Hows and the hangman,
you murderer !'
' Inez !'
Hv had recoiled from her with a gasping
ory, 1 vid as a ilead man.
' You Judas, who sold your master — you
Cain, who slew your brotiier 1 I know your
God ! that I had fallen dead long l>cfore th«
time vou inude me your wife !'
He hail crouched down l>eforu her. pallid,
giupiiig, the dew of death upon his brow.
He nail striven to catch her dress to detain
her in his first agony ol mortal fear. She
plucked It from him, and no words can de-
scribe tho iiorror in her dilated eyes— the
loathing, the repulsion, the hatred in her
face.
' Touch me not,' she said, wildly, ' lest I
go mud and tell the world all I Never, while
we both live, shall you touch my lips with
a husband's kiss — take my haml in a friend's
grasp ! Oil, surely I am forgotten of God,
or I had never beju your wife I'
And then she had broken from him, and
for many weeks they had not looked into
each other's faces again. And she had kept
her word. The.e had been no open seandal,
no public separation— the world saw plainly
enough there was little love oruniop between
the husband and wife ; but in f.oshionablo
society that is such a common case. Inez,
Desmond had kept her word, and — her
terrible secret. She dwelt l>eneath the same
roof fur her daiightcr'.s sake ; but she and
Gerald Desmond were sundered as far as the
poles.
She lay here to-night in her luxurious
little room, while the ceaseless niin lashed
the windows and the wilii wind soughed
among the tree*, and thought of her w icked,
lost life. There was a world of
despair in the dark, melancholy eyes
that gazed in the rudny tire — a
settled night of sorrow. She love<l her
daughter very dearlv— that daughter who
looked at her with Rory Desmond's own
blue eyes — and for her sake she lived and
clung t < life. But the en<l w^s not far off
now. An incurable inward d.sease had held
her victim for years — any day, a.iy hour, any
instant, she might be summoned suddenly
away.
' And before 1 go I should like to tell hy
the story of the past.' the countess thought.
' 8!ie knows there is some liidden sorrow
and mystery in my life ; she has asked
nie to tell her so often. I will tell her —
sparing the man who is her father as much
a I can, as I have spared him all these
bitter, dreary ye.irs. They will compel tier
to marrv this m.in. Well, if she can care
for him, as well Victor Trevannance
as another ; but Ijefore the bridal day she
will know how my life was blighted. Yes,
this very night she shall hear my story.'
She dn w from her bosom a locket, strun^^
I round her neck by a tine gold chain, iv
held a bright ring of golden hair, and a
{ zrassK, ia;r tsvytatt i;tc=, ai:t:::::c autt trraU-
48
LADY EVELYN.
tHnl, looked tip at ber— the fao* of Boderio
De*mon<t.
' My lov» I my darling !' she loftlv mnr-
tnuren ; ' bo funlly Blaiii, in your bi-iglit
youth, by the hiiiid you loved and trui^d.
My life— my huabarid I Inez will join yon
«. n !•
And then, with that pictured face clasped
elose, Bhe sank down among tlie cushioiiti,
■huttirif! out fire-lielit and wax-H^ht, and
went back over the weary past. Twenty
years drifted away — the lover of her happy
girlhood came back to her over the jjulf,
and lay at her feet as in the golden days
forever gone. Ami the limirs drifted on —
there were laughter and niu»ic, and light
and luxuiy, helow Btairs, where her hus-
biind anil d.iught, r were ; but she was a
glad, gay girl once more, and the wide
nni verse held but one treasure fur her—
Rory Desmond's love.
CHAPTER V.
LA ROSE DE CASnUS.
'And so you have been turning out a
gallant c.ivalicr, my frieinl — you. of all
men alive ! The fiery diagon rushes upon
Pnni't'ss Perfect, nnd, in the nick of time,
up C'tilop'* Prince Cliarniinf:, on his mett!(:d
steed, \Mtli hmce in rent, and routs 'he Imr-
rid nionsttr. N'^iie of the accessoricn are
wanting— the llishinj{ lit;litning, the lonely
woods. Beauty lo- r, ni\'\ chivulry <l;iriiig.
It IS like a sci ni' of the Porte St. Martin !'
Thii<( spoke Virginic, Count' h» I'ortici, to
Mr. Viv an Tri;v/,nn:ince, leaning lightly
oviT tin; back of her chair in the long half
hour before dinner.
A very cha'iiiiuf; little person, thisFrcnch-
Ilali.in .iiiitesa — Preiaii by birth, the
wi-althy w id 'W of an oUl Neaiiolitan count,
u beauty burn, and a c< (j ictte from her
er.idle. She was the Litest flirtoe on the
list of the Lord of Roval Rest, a trcmen-
i .usiy e.xicting little qnepn, and with just
a toncli of ji'mIous piijue visil>le now in her
long, velvify-lirown eves. Thn voice in
which she spoke w.is mi'lody itself, but
its Nweetneas ou'.y rendered its earcusm the
sharper.
• We liave been so inaufTerably stupid
hereof late, ' tnidame went on, in her low,
•olt toiu-K, ' that so stirring an adventure
as yours is a p«ii<itive godsend. T thi ^k I
see that woi (Hand tableau 1 The brigand
fravning the horse's bridle-rein ; the swoon-
ing dr.KwI ; the heroic knight riding to the
^ - • fi i-i *- -—J ;— - i~— .«.«...u
Kn<l a marriage I'
Her advery laugh chimed out, sweet uid
low. Trevannance stroked his brown
moustache with an imperturbable face.
' .Should it ? Wiio knows, then ? Per«
haps it m y. The price is high, but Um
Rose of Castile is worth it.'
La Portici's deep-brown eyes flashed, bat
she laughed fuintiv once more.
• Poor Linly Evelyn ! Besides, your
chances are slight, with a duial coronet at
her imperial feet. That imiKcile duke !
See him now stand there and gaze, with his
soul in his eyes, at the door by which rhe
mu!<t enter ! What idiots a gaud passion
makes of the beat of you. He wise. Monsieur
Trevannance ; wear \ our cliainniail armour
still. A man hopelessly in love is au ob-
ject of comp-ifsion to godx and men.'
' Your warni.igcoii es too late, ma belief
whispered Trevannance. ' J should bar*
heard it l)efore I met you.'
The countess struck hini a perfumed blow
with her fan.
'Nonsense I Keep your sugar plums for
the Rose of Castile ! I know their
value. The most unwholesome confectionery
goiiic.'
'And because they dis sree with yon,
Tou wish a sister belle to be made
ill also ? Characteristic of your cli.arming
sex ! Besides, 1 don't thinU our Caatilian
Rose likes sweetmeats. She b-.oks as though
she fe<l upon the nectar of the gods. Sfje
Ain'thyst's fishy eyes brighten. Lo ! the
conquering^ beauty comes !'
' i^a Uame aux Camelias I Accept the
warning, and — take me in to dinner. '
Trevannance bowed low as he presented
her his ami, but his eyes followed the tall,
dark divinity, robed in white and crowned
with scarlet.
She gavff him a brillant smile and glanc*
of recognition, as she swept by on the arm
ot Iy)rd Clydesniore.
The length of the dinner table separated
the rescued indy and h'-r knight, and the
pyramids of idorious flowers, and an inter-
vening alabaster Hel>e. neatly hid her from
view ; but now and then he had glimpses t.f
tiiat loftily-poised head, witri his satin black
hair drawn otf the delicate temples, and |i>e
glowing crimson coronal. Now and then
that 8 ft, foreigu-toned voice— so low, ao ex-
quisitely sweet — fell upon his ear ; now and
til n her aiiy, silvery laugh reached him ;
and once or twic • the cloudless violet eyea
met his full. But the wide dinner table held
them asunder. Amethyst monopolized her
on one side, and his friend. Lord Guy Rivers^
on the other, and by his tide sat the moat
'All the better, thought 'i<evannanet^
'AUabia Allah I It ia mj dntiuv. audi
LAUl J£VI<JL.Y^.
4V
stroked his browB
iperturbable fac«.
> kiiowB, then f Prn^
ice is hiK>>, but Um
111 if
rown eyes flashed, bat
loe more.
lyn t B««idea, your
th a ducal coronet at
I'liat iint)i>cile diike I
leiv and k^Z'-, with his
e (k'or l)y which phe
diotf! A g. and passion
o\\. \U'. wise, Monsieur
our cliain-niail armour
ifly in love is au ob>
j;()tln aiul men.'
es too late, ma belk f
nee. * I should hare
you'
i hull a perfumed blow
I your Biigar plums for
e ! I know their
holesome uonfectiooery
y dis eree with yon,
belle to be made
itic of your cliarmin){
't tliink our Caatiiiaa
). Sh(! looks as though
;tar of the gods. See
L-8 brighten. Lo I the
mes !'
laniclias I Accept the
le in to dinner. '
d low as he presented
eyes followed the t.ill,
iu white and crowned
I'ant Rinile and glance
s swept by on the arm
dinner table separated
I lur knight, and the
flowers, and an inter-
L', nearly hid ncr from
hen he had glimpsen of
nd, witri hi!> satin black
licate tern pier, and 111*
rona). Now and then
id voke— so low, so ex-
upou his ear; now and
y hiugh reached him |
B cloudless violet eyee
wide dinner table held
etiiyst monopolized her
riond, Lord Guy River%
y bis tide sat the moat
thought 'ii«vannanc%
[t ia Ds; dMtiuv. uid I
don't want to b« led captive by a beauty as
perfect u the Venus Medici and an cold as
a refrigerator. Heaven forbid she should
ever cast me into that pit of bathos wherein
she has flung Amethyst, Rivers, and the
rest of her victims ! Virginie is right — the
Krand pa»!^ion is idiotic, and a deuce of a
bore. I can play at love-making with the
best ; but maniage and do.neatic bliss —
bah !'
And then he turned from the camelia-
crowned siren over the way, and flirted, as
Vivian Trevannance could flirt, with his gay
Parisian-Neapolitan countesa — flirted so
recklessly that his father scowled from his
seat, aiul the P^arl of Clontarf shrugged his
shoulders, and decided he would speak to
his dan^^hter about accepting the Duke of
Amethyst as soon as he proposed. The
Iaili<;s arose, proseutly, and swt-pt away;
but in spite of the gay badinage with which
lie and La Portici parted, it vtras not the
fairy form of the countess he watched from
the room, but the regal figure of the earl's
daughter.
' She might sit by an emperor's 8i<le, and
command him tasks,' he thought. ' What
IS it Othello says T Her form is as perfect
as a statuette of Coysvor ; her face as pure
and lovely as one of RAphael's madonnas.
And all that is to go to Amethyst — a fellow
who, in six months, will hold h( r a little
higher than hia dog, a little dearer thjii his
house. Faugh ! it would be Vulcan weddeti
to Venus! Out of pity for her I ought to
step ill and prevent the sacrifice 1'
He glanced defiantly aeioss the table at
the heuvy face »")d dull eyes of his grace
'yes that or . 'cauty and billiard!<, horse-
flesh and h ■? -mg could ever liglit>'n.
' A man tnarry some time, as the
(governor remarks. It's the thing to do, and
by Jove ! she is a mate for a king. I'll de- ■
vote myself, for the rest of the evening, to
my proud Castilian Rose.' j
Half an hour after, when the gentleman
entered the (irawing-room, his glance sought
it I.Ady p]velyn. She sat at the piai.o, i
|)!aying softly weird improvisations of her j
ijwu, that seemed strangely in harmony j
with the wild night-storm without. Heed-
lass of Lady Clydesmore, who signalled him
Iwitli her fan — of La Portictr whose jealous
?ye» gleamed— he crossed at once to where
|tlie fair pianist sat.
' I have been looking forward to thie," he
aid. ' since the world first began to talk of
jtH lloee de Castile. They tell me you equal
*ast«, or Milibran herself. Will yon not
St uie juiij^e ?'
I have not been singing,' I^ady Evelyn
luBwered. ' I seldom sing, except to my-
self or mamma ; and '—a little disdainfuUj
— ' I equal neither Pasta nor Malibran.'
' Will you not permit me to judge ? Yob
will sing for me, I know.'
' His calmly assured air seemed to ami^at
the petted beauty (women all like high-hand-
ed rulers). She glanced up at him, a sniilt
in the brilliant depths of the purple-blue
eyes.
' My lordly autocrat, I will sinj; for you,
will I? Now, a gentleman who has mad€
the fair sex the study of his life should know
better than that ! It is a tacit challenge to
defiance.'
I 'But you #ill not be cruel tome, this
first evening yon will sing. Vou sang for
me ill Castile— you danced the bolero, seno-
rita !'
' Ah, n.y sunny Castile ! Well, senor, I
owe you something, certainly. What shall
I sing V
' One of those d»liciou8 old Castilian
romaiits — sweetest rr.usic on earth ; one of
your impassioned Spanish ballads.'
She struck the chords— hhe had a brilliant,
masterly touch— and played a wild, inelau-
ulioly prelude. Slowly her voice soprano,
sweet as Jenny Lind's own.
She had chosen a wierd passionate song
of her native land — stirring words set to a
thrillii g melancholy air.
(iradually silence fell upon the room. It
was so rarely she sang, her voice was so ex-
quisite, her song so full of fire, and mel«u-
(h'lly ; so altogether out of the common
course.
The listeners held their breathing ; weary
walkers on society's monotonous tread-mill,
they were hearing something new. For
Trevannance, he stood beside her, gazing
down with i kindling fire in his hazel eves,
a new hght iu his calm face. That proud',
princely head, with its rich, waving black
hair, its crimson crown— that pure pale
face, those fathomless, luminous eyes of
blue— ah ! held the world another fairer
than this peerless Rose o I Castile, this proud
young patrician ' And she might be his wife
— his for theaskiiig. Her heart was free—
and proiKl as her faie ; something dcpper
and nobler than had ever been stirred there
before by woman's benuty thrilled Vivian
Trevannance now.
The song ceased, died out, moamful and
low as the last cadence of a funaral hymu.
It had told the old story— a story of love and
despair. With the last faint chord, Tf
vannce bent above her.
•'J'hank you. F-aj!*^ R-.i-lvr-. ' h:; ss=H =-:— .
ply. ' I will not soou forget this night or
your song. '
80
LAL»Y EVELYN.
She rose with p. light laugh, conscious that
ehe had made u densatioii.
' I t<>;d you I bftut! seldom, senor. See
what comes of it ! They abEoluttly listen.
Lady Clydesmore, will you sliow me that
porlf'ilio of Irish (Irawinffs yuu spoke of to-
day ? Who knows ? Clontarf may be among
them.'
She moved gracefully uway. Some one
came to tiie piano. The Counters I'ortici,
from her velvet sofa, Klared— yes, glaied—
across at her recusant lover as he fi llowed,
and took his seat beside Lady Evelyn.
'She sang for that fellow !' murmured
poor Amethyst, pathetically : 'she never
would sing for me. Look at him now ! And
this is his f-st niefting, and slie looks as if
she likes it Coufv-uud liim and his as-
surance !'
' She does like it !' the countess respond-
ed, setti.ig her pearly teeth. ' Your marble
beauty is only marble to dolts and bunglers.
When tlie right hand touches it, the marble
turns to fle^h. Tane care, my proud Cisti-
lian ! the changing sea, the shiHing quick-
sand, the veering wind, were never half so
fickle as Vivian Trevannance.'
' She speaks as if slie had suffered from
th« fickleness,' thought liis grace. 'Why
do the women all go down before that fellow
I wonder? He's well-looking,! dare say, and i
he's acknowledged the best waltzer in Lon-
don ; but whv should that make him irresis-
tible ? His praise is a woman's crown ; his
commendation makes a belle the fashion. 1
thought Lady Evelyn Desmond had sense,
but she's no betttr than the rest. '
It certainly looked like it Lady Evelyn.
who never allowed herself to be monopolized
by »nv gentleman, allowed herself to be mo-
nopobzed by Trevannance to-night. The
rich, blue eyes wore an unwonted brilliance,
the exquisite lips were half anart at she
listene . He might have been declaring a
deathless passion in sounding hexameU'rs, as
far u looks went. In reality he w is only
telling her of a last year's visit to Wicklow,
k pilgrimage to Clontarf. He described the
wild mountain and coast scenery, the pic-
turesque ruins of Clontarf Castle, promised
her a faithful sketch of it soon, and she
listened with a deep, intense interest, uncon-
cious of the speeding hours and the signi-
ficaat glances of the lookers-on. It m'sb
very liKe a flirtation— from a distance.
TrevsJinancti saw the faces of the Duke of
Ametliyst, Lord Ri^ers & Co., and smiled
oovertly, in wicked delight.
• Triumpiuf morU iaim i'ita ' i.x, ;s v:ic
motto of our house. To carry oH the highest
priced Circassian in May Fair, the belle of
London society. ' he beauty of the day ! By
Jove 1 if a fellow Cin't distinguish himsell
by his deeds of "derring-do," let bim
distiiigumh himself in the Court of Cupul.
My lovi.ly Castiliau ro«e. I'll win you an I
woJi' you if 1 can !' , • »
Tliere was s self-satisfied smile on his face
as he sauntered into the smoking-room half
an hour before midnight, and saw pdBT
Amethyst glowerii\g upon him through a
cloud of Cavendish. It was something this
triumph . vera duke, even though that duke
had no more brains than a monkey.
CHAl'TER VI.
THE 8T0BY OF THK PAST.
The fire had flickered and faded out on
the miirble hearth ; the wax-lights Iw'
burned low ; but Inez, Countess of (/lontarf,
lay motionless on her sofa, clasping tho
picture of her beloved one to her heart.
Siie had fallen asleep, with the soft drop-
ping of the embers, the beatine of the rain,
and the wailing of the wind for her lullaby.
She had fallen into that 8lumV)er— the tears
still wet on her dark kshes— but the slumber
was u very light one.
The gentle opening of the door aroused
her. She looked ui., to see the silver-white
vision of her daughter, the loving smile on
the beautiful face, the camellia orowu on
the queuuly head.
' Asleep, mamma ? And T have disturbed
you ! Shall I ring for your maid ? It is
nuch too late for you to be up.'
' Not yet, my daughter. Come in— you
do not lock sleepy. Your eyes are like blue
stars.' She kisseil the droopiug lids with a
passionate love, that had a deeper mea ing
than her daughter knew of. ' What has
made them so bright, dearest ?'
Lady Evelyn laughed as she sank down
by her mother's couch. The be.iutiful, bril-
liant face sofu-nfed wondrously ; all its cold
pride vanished ; she was another creature by
t hat beloved mother's side. Shfi made a ra-
diant picture there ; her perfumed laces
floating silvery about her ; the crimson-
clowned head droopiug ; the rich blue eyes
80 luminously sweet.
' How can I J«ll T' she said, gaily, m
answer to her mother's queetion. ' Not
belladonna certainly, mamma Perhaps
Ml. Vivian Trevannance. We have been
together for the last two hours.'
' Indeed 1 An unwonted condescension
on my Lady Evelyn's part, is it not ? He is
"'Most' agreeable ! Very oonveif ative !
Very c1<«r !' Lady Evelyn responded, with
perfect calm.
LADY KVELYW.
M
distinguish hiirneL
erriiiK-ilo," I*t '>•««
he Court of Cupid,
e, I'll win you an i
fietl smile on his fate
It! smokiiigrooni b«li
i^ht, ami saw pdOT
pen liiin throujjh «
t was something, ttiit
veil tiiougli thatduks
III a monkey.
ii VI.
r TUK PAST.
1 and faded out ou
thti wax-lig>it8 h«('
Countess of (31ontarf,
r sofa, clasping tho
am: to her lieart.
), with the soft drop-
e beatina of the rain,
wind fur her lullaby.
i»t slumber— the tears
slies— but the slumber
of the door aroused
;o see the silver-white
the loving smile on
e camellia crown on
And I have disturbed
r your maid ? It is
to bo up.'
ihter. Come in — you
four eyes are like blae
e drooping lids with a
lad a deeper mea ing
know of. ' What has
dearest ?'
ii as she sank down
. Thebeiutiful, bril-
ndrously ; all its cold
las another creature by
gide. She made a ra-
; her perfumed laces
it her ; the crimson-
ig ; the rich blue eyea
' she said, gaily, in
iher's question. ' Not
', mamma Perhaps
lauce. We have been
two hours.'
n wonted coudescensioD
5 part, IB it not ? He is
1 Very oonTerpative !
Evelyn responded, with
' How quietly Donna Evelyn says it I
as though he were aeventy, and hoary-
beaded. '
The violat eyes op«oed wide. ' What
do«s that signify, tfianma T Mr. Trevan-
nance can talk. More than I can say tor
many men in society. He i> clever and
agreea' le, and— knows it ! He talked to
roe of Ciontirf. '
' Of Ciontarf ! Ras he been there, then ?'
' Laf.t yef.r. He Jias promised me a sketch
of the old castle. Ah, how much J desire to
go there I Mamma, why is it t' at papa
will gratify every other whim of mine but
thiii ?'
The pale face of the Countess darkened ;
R strange glitter came into her eyes.
• It is one of your papa's secr'is, mydear.
He has many. I do not think he will ever
visit Ciontarf of his own free willajisin.'
' And why ? Mamma, why is this es-
trangement between him and you ? Is
there some dark and hidden secret in the
life of the Earl ot Ciontarf? Why does ho
wear that darkly-brooding face? Why
does he always look so gloomily-stern — so
moodily nnhappy ? He never la. ghs ; he
never smiles ; he is ever wrapped in gloom ;
he looks at me sometimes as though he
feared ma. It seems strange, mamma, but
it is tru«.'
' It ii not strange, ' Lady Ciontarf said,
that glitter shining in her black eyea. ' He
does fear yon.'
' And wlty ?*
' Because, my daughter, yon look at him
with the ey*» of the dead !'
• Mamm'v I"
' Oh, my love I my danghter I There
has been terrible, terrible wrong done in
the past. My life has been blighted, my
heart broken, and another heart that loved
me — the noblest, tb« bravest, the 'uest that
ever beat in man — atilled forever in death.
VoQ have the eyea of the dead — the blue,
bright eyes of Roderic Desmond, the
plighted iiusband o%my youth — the 'me
love of my lifetime. My child ! my child 1
but for yon I should have died, or gone mad
in my misery long ago.'
' Wild words, are they no6 f I
have hidden, or striven to hide, my
troubles from you and the world tor many a
weary year, but I must sp-ak at last. Oil,
my darling ! my life has l>een a very bitter
one— a long, cruel martyrdom, dragged on
for your sake. Thank Ood I the end is very
r.jar now.*
' M'lmma ! mamma I' bar daughter cried,
' Huxh ! not a word. He it your father,
and he love<i you ? Once he loved me, too ;
but I— my heart was another's before I ever
knew him. My heart has leen with that
other all these in hi* unknown grave.'
' He is dead, then — this other of whom
you speak V
' Dead for twenty long years, my daugh-
ter ; most foully, moat cruelly murdered :
Twenty years slain and still unavenged.'
Lady E^ elyn had grown very pale. She
sat clasping he» mother's hands, gaamg with
troubled, earnest ey< s into tluit mother's
pallid, agitated face— a dread foreboding of
something horrible weighing upon luT.
• You will tell nie your story, will yon
not, my mother?' rhe said, soothingly, cares
Eini:iw 'I have BO long desired to hear it.
And it will do you go d— a norrow told is ;i
sorrow half alleviated. Brooding darklv
over our troubles in secret adds ten -f' Id to
their burden. You will tell me, mother
mine, ♦his sad and cruel story of tiie past, of
the lover you liave lost? Ah, his piotnre, is
it not;'
She lifted the locket and gazed long and
earnestly at the pictured face.
' And this was Roderic Desmond I A
noble and be:iutiful countenance — one to win
any woman's heart. And they murdered
him, so young, so bright, so fair ! It was a
cowardly and dastardly deod — one that
ahould not go unavenged.'
' Then be it yours to avenge it,' her mother
exclaimed, suddenly. 'Do you have strength
for what I never darod undertako I Yon are
braver, stronger, more self-sustained- clever-
er, than I ever was. Be it yours, then,
Evelyn Desmond, to hriug to ligit this hid
dea mu derer — to erret oat this unknown
assassin, and drag him to his doom !'
Siie grasped her daughter's vyriat, her
black eyes biazing — a hot, hectic flush burn-
ing deeply on either worn cheek.
' I was a c »WHid, I tell yon, Evelyn— a
moral coward — the first of my race that ever
was. I was sfraid to di.'cover the murderer
of the m in I loved, leat he should prove to
be — Oh, my God ! what am I saj'ing ! And
he is her father !'
She dropped her dnaghter'f wrist and
shrank awa^. hiding her face m jer handn,
ahuddering fioni hesd to foot
Evelyn sat and gaz> d at iier with startled,
solemn eyes, deadly pale. >
' No— no — no!' the Connt«ssof Clontart
cried ; * heed me not, Evelyn I Nt'ither
roust you seek for him. L-it the dead rest —
let the murilerer go 1 There is One above
who, in his own good time, will avenge in-
nocent biood. But oh ! it is hard, it is cruel,
:i :. u:^.... .. .< aU t_ au.» ^^^^ .1....] ^t
tv !5 T.TV'r-- Tf? -tr-rsr?;, lu rt?— --rr— jr •-- r— t •_*:
night, Evelyn, he rises up before me— my
R'>deric— with his pale, reproachtul {ac«, as
63
LADY EVELYN.
if to ulc why I do not bring hi« slayer to
punishment. I see him, Evelyn, often and
often, as plainly as I see you now.'
•Mamma,' Lady Evelyn said, softly,
soothingly, in their own liquid Catstilian
tongue, 'becalm. See! the cold drops are
on your poor, pale fact', and y^ ur hands and
temples are like fire. Forget this wild tails
of vengeance- -tell me the story of your lust
lover, who is in heaven now. I will b»th<^
your face and hands with this cologne, au(l
we will upcak of finding tlm guilty one after.
The caressing tone socithed the excited
■jountess. The flush faded— the glitter died
out of her black melanclioly eyes in a mist
of lean. She kissed her dauc^hter's caress-
ing hand.
' My dear one ! You are better and wiser
than I ! Yea, I will tell you — it is twenty
years ago, but to me it is as twenty hours.
The events of yesterday are as a dim dream
of those long, lonely, intervening years !
Out of the retrtwpect, tiiat time iilone Btaiuls
olear and vivid— the golden summer of my
desolate lile.
' I saw him first, my darling, one never-to-
be forgotten nitrht, beaming (iown upon me
through the flames and smoke of a burning
ihip — the face of a preserving angel. We
were off the Irish coast — our vessel had taken
fire — it was a wild, windy night — there
!<eemed nothing but death inevitable — we
stood together, alone, to die, my father and
[. He came to us, my Evelyn, in his
yacht — 1 can see him now, as he
stood erect upon the deck, vivid in
the lurid glow of the flames — so brave,
80 bright, so beautiful. I can hear his clear
voice as he called to us to leap into the sea
— our one chance amid the horrors of that
night. My father took nie in his arms, there
was a plunge into the mad, black waters,
then darkness, and all life blotted out.
' I opened my eyes in the cabin of the
Nora Cfreina, and he was b' nding above me
I was aioiie in the world ; he had saved me
at the ris^k of his own life, but my poor
father had gone down.
'He took me to his home — to '^1 mtarf
Castle— dear old Clontarf ! Where .ther
and aunt received me as they migh ve re-
ceived a cliil! of their own, rescuiu from
death. And there 1 learned to love him
troMi the first?— my whole heart went out
10 hiin with a passionate abandon that I pray
vou may never know. And he loved me,
my Evelyn, as dearly, as truly, as p rely as
juan ever loved woman. Our wedding-day
ivas named ; our sky seemed without one
oloud ; my life, sleeping and waking, was
one enilless dream of bliss. I was too iiappy
—my heaven was on earth — such intense and
perfect joy can never last in this lowet
world. The blow came Hudden and swift,
without one word of warning, and I loat »U
in an hour.
' A girl was found drowned — a peMant
girl, who had loved my darling — as who
uould fail to love him ? She was betrothed
to an Euglishm-jn named Morgan — a bang-
dog looking ruffian — whom she hated and
despised, but whom her father was forcing
her, for his own selfish ends, to wed. They
found her drowned, and they fixed the
guilt of that horrible deed upon my Roderic,
who loved her as he might a sister. They
forged a note in his hand— I know it was
forged — appointing a meeting at the river
— that meeting from which she never re-
turned alive. It was Morgan who wore his
life away. Circumstances were against hiin,
and oh, my daughter, they condemned him
to death !— the horrible death of a murderer!
' How I lived through that time, the good
(Jod only knows. I neither went mad or
died, though my frantic prayer was f<)r
either. But I lived on, every day an eternity
of anguish— Mch anguish that my heart
giew l}enuml>ed at last, and a merciful
stupor took the place of that bitter agony.
Life dragped on, the last week came— the
Wiek in which they were to lead forth the
last of the princely Desmond to die a felou's
death.
' At the eleventh hour came a friend — to
this day no one knows who — a friend who
opened his prison doors, and aided him to
escape. Afterward, they traced him to the
sea-coast, to a wild and lonely spot, and
there, my daughtev, he was most foully
murdered. He had fled from one death only
to meet another. There were all the marks
of a strugKle for life and death. The grass
was soaked with blood ; poi tions of the gar-
ments he wore, and his fair, golden hair,
were found, drenched with his brave heart's
blood. Some unknown assassin had met
him there, murdered him, and throw his
body into '.«ie sea !'
She covered her fi|§e with her hands, as
thoiieh she saw the horrible sight before her,
shuddering convulsively from head to foot.
Evelyn kissed the white lips tenderly, aud
bathed the poor, pallid face.
' 1 lived through it all— oh, life beat* very
strongly in the weakest of us, since I could
sufifer like that and not die. But it killed
his father ; that loyal, loving heart could
not endure such misery long. And at his
request, and by his dying bed, I— married—
your— father !' She pronounced the last
words with a slow, strange solemnity ; look-
unole waa attached to him ; h« WM the iMt
r iMt in thii lowet
le Huddei) and awift,
rarning, »nd I lost all
drowned — a pcMant
vy darling — aa who
> She waa betrothed
ed Morgan — a baug-
^hom she hated and
er father waa forcing
1 eiuls, t<) wed. They
and they fixed the
leed upon my Roderic,
light a sister. They
nd — I know it waa
Tieeting at the river
which she never re-
Morgun who wore hia
iices were against him,
they condemned him
e death of a nmrdcrerl
yrh that tinie, the good
either went mail or
.iitic prayer waa for
every day an eternity
uish that my heart
last, and a merciful
if that bitter agony,
aat week came— th«
'ere to lead forth the
smoud to die a felon's
ur came a friend — to
I who — a friend who
'8, and aided him to
hey traced him to the
ud lonely spot, and
he was most foully
id from one death only
;re were all the marks
id death. Tlie grass
; poi tiong of the gar-
« fair, golden hair,
with his brave heart's
n assassin had met
lim, and throw his
with her hands, as
rrible siicht before her,
ly from head to foot,
te lips tenderly, aud
1 face.
ill— oh, life beats very
9t of us, since I could
)t die. But it killed
, loving heart could
y long. And at his
'ing bed, I — married —
pronounced the last
ange solemnity ; look-
il ill bliC 2£ICC. ' XZ2S
hini ; be was the last
LAUl lay/t^LYH.
of the name, of their house — the future E '1
of Clontarf : his influence over that pooi,
keart-broken, dying man was bonndless.
A.id he was Ro<ieric'8 father. Cimld I gain-
say his last wish ? I stood there, beside
Gerald Desmond, with a heart that lay like
lead in my boaoni — a heart as cold and life-
less as Ttio lover I had lost — and became his
wife. He knew it all ; he wadded me. know-
.ug 1 loved him not— could never love him;
but, oh, heaven ! how little I dreamed then
«f the aw^til truth I How little I knew he,
not Morjraii, was — '
' What, mamma?'
Lady Kvelyn asked th* question, livid to
the lips, with a horror too intense for words.
Her mother shrank away from the gaze of
those wild, blue eyes.
' No, no 1 no, no ! Not to you. Heaven
lorgive me. How m dly I speak. There are
times when 1 think all my iniseiy must have
turned my brain ; and I scarcely k'low
what I say. But, can you wonder now
that uuch a lovel ss union should end in
estrangement and separation ? Your fatlier
niav have cared forme once — he professed to,
wiwi ail man's ardour; but, Kvelyn, he
liates me now. '
'Oh, mamma, mamma !'
' It is true. You are no child. It i^ plain-
ly enough to be seen, if I were de\d to-mor-
row, he could rejiiice in his secret heart. It
seems very terrible for me to say this to you,
but it is plain to the worid and, if you do
not know i' now, you soon must. He haa
no power to make one happy or unhappy,
save through you. My duugliter, do not let
him blight your life — do not Jet him force
you into marriags with t mai. you dislike.'
' Dearest mamma, how wiuily you lalk 1
Papa never spoke tome of marrying any one
in his life,'
' No, but he soon will ; I know it I If you
love no other (and 1 i now you do not)— if
yiiu can esteem and r.'spect the man of his
choice— very well ; I Mill not interfere. But
if he attempts to coerce you — to compel yon
—then come to me, and I will show hiin that
neither he nor any man aiive shall force my
daughter.'
The glitter waa back in her eyes ; her thin
hands clenched ; the old, fierce spirit was
far from being dead yet. Lady Evelyn ask-
ed no question — she saw how excited her
mother waa.
' Very well, mamma !' she said, quietly,
' [ will obey you. I will jjiarry no man I
dislike, believe that. Ana now it is very
late, far too late for you ; let me ring for
J -_j — ..-.. .-f-i.. ;_ Ui-A &-- „
is your picture.,
' I have another for vou : hand me that
writing-cau ; thanks. It ip larger than this
it may fall into other hands ; you will kaep
it and cherish it for my rake, and for the
•ake of the dead.'
'Yes, mamma.'
She took the piotnre. It was an oval
miniature on ivory, very beantitul, and a
perfect likeness of gold-haired, azure-«yed,
fair-faced Rodoric Desmond.
' It shall be one of my treasures, dearest
mobher. Another time we will talk over this
sad, terrible story you have told me ; it is
too late now. He.e is Delphine ; good-nLght,
sweetest mother, and pleasant dreams.'
She kiiised her lingeriugly, fondly, and
hastened from the room. Her own apart-
ments were brightly lit and luxurious ; her
maid awaiting her sleepily. She sank into
an arm-chair, while the girl nn'oundthe
shining black tresses, and gaztd earnestly
and long at the painted face.
' Murdered I' she thought, ' and so yonns^,
■o noble, so wondrously lianilsome ' What
a terrible fate ! Poor, poor mamma, what
bitter suffering she has known. How very
dearly she loved this handsome Liord Roderic.
Shall I ever love any one like that, I won-
der? Am I heartless, as they say, or is my
time yet to come '! Perhaps, if I saw a liv-
ing face like this, 1, too, might yield to the
spell of its beauty ; but I much prefer love a
la mode to these fierce, powerful paasinns.
VViiat could mamma mean by all these wild
hints of suspected murderers and coinpal-
sory marriagi'S ? Poor mamma ! I l)ei;in to
tear that brooding over the past is affecting
her brain.'
CHAPTER VII.
OLD FBIKNDP MIBT.
The tramp who waylaid Lady Evel3m Des-
mond passed that stormy night in the shel-
tei of the gipsy camy. He fr itemized with
these dusky thieves and prophets, partook
of their savoury supper, and slept beneath
their canvas canopy in security.
'I don't mind staying with you for a bit.'
he said, to Phara. ' I'm likely to remain in
this neighbourhood for some days, and I
prefer lodging in your tents, my friend, to
putting up at the " Prince's Feathers,' be
low. I'm as poor a fellow as ever walked
now : but I'll have a pocketful of sovereigm
before the sun sets to-m rrov. '
• Will you, brother?' the tail gipsy asked.
rather dubiously. ' Where will von get
fi..>,>, « &.....>..«;.U.a Jn..'* .._»_ ;.. ti.'.. 1..,-]...-
-• ...-..'• •• «**"* *** • •'USiirty
like blaoklMMTies hereattouts. '
The t;vunp nod led his head sagaciously.
64
LADY KVKLYN.
M he lit A gnmy little pipe »t the glowing
oo»l«. , • J
'Never you mind, my dusky Miena—
they'll grow a« plentiful as bla^ kberriea for
me. I've got a secr.it here,' tapping bis
iiitiburnt forebeuil, 'that's worth a little
mint to me. I've spent tlie last liglitet u
yturs of my 'ife on Norfolk Island, <;liunied
like a dog, fed like a dog, used worse than
anv dog ; but tiiat's all over now. I'll spend
the rest of my duys lu clover, and a certain
noble earl, not a thousand milts from here,
shall pvy tlie piper.'
Kurtliir ilittii this the tramp deslined to
divnljc. Ho wrapped himself up prostntly
in a dirty blanket, aud j1< pt the sleep of the |
jii»t on iii8 tuvty bi;tl, wliile the loiiB hours I
of the tempe:<tii-.us i.ight wore on. He was
up betimes in'Xt inc-rning, sliared the mater- I
nal reflection of the swarthy tribe, made ■
his toilet by a plunge in a neighlmurinK
brook, and starie for Warbeck Hall. It 1
was marly ten o'clock when lie reached tlie j
grand entrance gates, and he was in time
to see an imposing cavalcade sweep under
the noble arcliway. '-^air ladies in hat.
and plume, and habit ; gentlemen in cords
and tops ; baronolies awA pony phaetons,
filled with n.<Muii? feathers and glancing
si ks. The tramp drew under the shadow
of the ivied wall, and watched them.
' A southerly wind and a cloudy sky pro- .
claim it a hunting morning,' he thought.!
' Ah, there he is at last !' ■ ;
His eyes fell upon tlie tall, er. ct form of
thehauaitv Earl of Clontari— the pnu.l.st
and inosf domineenn« peer in the kingdom
—mounted on a mightv black hunter. His
fixed, imperious features wer^set as though
moulded in iron ; the light-blue eyes glit-
tered with the keen, steely brightness of a
falcon ; the unsmiling nioulh was ahaled
by a long, brown, grizzled beard.^ He sat
his horse square and erect and firmly, as
tlirugh iie anil the animal were one.
The sinister eyes of the vagrant lighted
with a ferocious gleam of hatred aud fury as
1 .1 ^a/.'*'i.
' Curse you 1' he said, ' you double-dyed
traitor -you bloody murderer ! You revel
in wt-altii, ill honour, and stand am )n.i,' the
hiRiies in the laud, while— I cur»e you ten
thous.in<i times ! I'll muke yo», pay for it
before loii«.' , _, ,
At that instant Ladv Evelyn Dei-mond
rode foitli, with Vivian Trevannanee liy her
side, and t e wiiole pioccssion cantered gaily
awiiy. The vagrant stood still until the last
ring anil clatter of their horses" hoofs died
j-.-j- +1,. .;,, *j5j, ,j|.*;.[,;.e and only a v.i»t cloud
of du^t renifiined to tell the tale. Then he
lont-ed himself and slouched iuto the Dark.
al(mj4 the shady avenues, ami over the in-
visible fence dividing the gardens. Here
men were at work among the parterres, and
one of these— an umlerganUner— looked up
from his labour, and eyed the approaching
stranger with a suspicious glance.
' Well, my mau, ' he said, ' and what may
vou want this time o' day ? It's too e«rly for
brjUen victuals, if that's what you are after.
and our 'ouse-keeper don't allow tramp*
about the kitchen at any time o' day, I can
tell you.' ,
' I don't want broken victuals, the va-
grant answered, civilly. ' T only see the
gentle folks riding away, and come in to rest
a bit. I suppose your housekeeper won't
turn a poor cliap away when she hears Lady
Evelyn Desmond told him to come.'
' Hey ?' cried the under-gardener. 'What !
Lady Heveling Desmond told you to come,
did sue ? Blessoil if you hain't a cool "ua
at the business, you are. W^here did Lady
Heve'ing Desmond come to 'ave the honour
of your acquaintance, my Mark is of Tatters
and Rags ? , ,
'Look here,' said the tramp, 'do you know
: tnis? Perh ps it will put au aid to your
ch.iflBng.' , ,. .
He drew from his bosom the dirty re ■ nant
,)f a red liamlkercl.ief, uiifol ed it gingerly,
and produced a lich ring.
. 'Look at this. Mr. (iardener,' he aairt,
i 'see them sparldcrs? It's worth a year of
your wages, I'll lay a button. Look at that
'. name i.iside, s-upposing your education hasn't
been neglected, and tell nie whose it is.'
'Evelyn Iimv iJe-moud !' slowly read the
undtrgardeiier ; 'blowed if it ain't I I
say, my nian. you liaven't stole nothia*
lately, have you?
'If I had stolen it, it is hardly likely 1
would fetch it here, my good fellow. I re-
peat, Lady Evelyn gave me this ring otl her
own finger, with her own fair hands, yester-
day, and told me, with her own beautiful .
lips, to come here to-day. Now, then, my
covey, what do you think of that?'
He seated himself deliberately > n a rustic
bench as he at-ked the qiio.stioii, and leered
knowingly up in the gardener'.s face.
' Blessed if i know what to think !' re-
sponded that functionary. ' I'ts the rummest
go I've heerd on lately, and you're the rum-
mest chap lever met. That's Lady Heve-
ling's ring, I dft^ssav, but how came you by it,
is another question. You don't look the
sort of gent handsortie young ladies and
hearls' d::ughter#* give di'mon rings to,
blowed if you do. llowsuniever, it's no af-
fair of mine.' . . .
'They've gone hunting, eh!' asked iM
tramn.
LADY EVELYN.
85
The gardener nodded and returned to his
work.
' They're comiug back here to dinner, I
»UDp)8e ?'
' You'd better ask Mrs. Lawson that, my
mau ; I aia'tthe 'oueekeeper.'
'Well,' said the unknown, 'I'll hang
about here, anyhow, and see. I Dromised
the young lady I'd come to-<iay, and it don't
do to disippoint the ladies. You wouldn't
mind giving a poor feflow a bit of dinner in
the aiirvant*' hall would yi>u 7'
' Yes, I would !' aiiitw. red the under gar-
dener, very deuidediy ;' it would be as much
as my pl.Mse is ^v.^rtli. I don't know nothin'
about you, and what's more, I don't want
to. I don't like yo ir look-, Mr. I ramp ;
you may have an eye t*. the plate, for what
I know. Go round to the servants' offices
ai twelve o'clock, and ask for a slice of co d
beef anil a mug o' home-brewed, and you'll
get it, very likely, and don't you wonit me
with your questions any more.'
Tiie under-gardener turned doggedly away
to hia work, leaving the tramp to his own
lU-yices. There was nothing for it but to
prJwl about and w\it until evening for the
return of the earl's daughter.
' It's no use ■ ludging back to my swarthy
friends, the gipsies,' he thouijht, 'empty-
handed, as 1 left. I may as well wait, and
take pot luck here. I wish I had come t-
little sooner. And then I must see him !'
He slouched away to a quiet spot under
some lofty elma presently, and stretching
him-si-lf upc n the grass, fell asleep in the
warm October sunshine. It was high noon
when he awoke, an i reineinbfring the
^,'ardener's wor<l8, he presented himself at
the servants* offices for his m d-day meal.
' It's again oar rules— beggars, ' said a
shrill-voiced kitchen damsel : ' howsumer,
liere, and be off with you.'
She brought him broken meat and bread,
and a ilraught of home-brewed, and Laily
Kvelyn's pensioner partook of the refresh-
ment, and once more slouched back to his
lair.
The October sun was low in the golden
western sky, and ttie evening wind was ris-
lag fresh from Che ocean, ere the hunting-
p.iirty returned to Warbeek Hall. They
swept up the noble avenue, a brilliant cavaf-
Mde, with soft laughter and animated faces,
I lie last of the procesaion — superb to see —
Lady Evelyn Desmond and Mr. Vivian Tre-
vannance.
Tlio t amp stood boldly out nnder the
*'aving elros, as they rode up, clearly defin-
cii!' asked iM
jriijlit eyes of the
ipou him at once.
f th-
Spanish beauty
fc. Ths
flasiied
•My landit,'sbe said, with her low,
silvery laugh. ' He is true to his tryst,
though 1 had quite forgotten him. And yon
have brought back my ring ?'
She swayed lightly from her saddle, her
bright beautiful faceslightly flushed from her
rapid ride, her eyes shining like stars. Her
' bandit' removed his tattered huad-pieoe,
and made her a clumsy bow.
' Here it is, my lady. '
He dropped it into her gloved palm. The
exquisite face oeamed down upon him with
an.ifelic compassion ; all its lotty pride was
gone now.
' I am glad you kept your word. Wait
here ten minutes : I wdl send my maid out
to you. If you remain here, and find your-
self again in need, return tome.'
She swept away with the words, and the
tall trees hid her from sight. The tramp
gaised after with a curious face.
'Odd,' he thought ; ' she is his daughter,
but she has Rory Desmond's eyes— she ha*
Rory Desmond's heaig|. Does h« ever see
the resemblance, I wonder, when she looks
at him T or is he, as he always was, harder
than Ktone 7'
The ten minutes had hardly elapsed before
a trim little Parisian waiiing-maid came
tripping airily over the grass to the spot
where he stood.
' 1 come from iny Lady Evelyn,' she said.
Are you my lady's pensioner ?'
•I am.'
'Then here.'
She dropped into his horny palm a little
heap of golden coins, and flitted away baok
to the house. The vagrant counted his
prize with greedy, glistening gazo— ten
«overeii;ns in all.
'She's a princess, that's what she is, and
the worst 1 wish her is a better father.
Now, if I could only see you, my lord, for
tre ininut:-H, I'd be a ina<le man ; but it's no
' use hdping fur that to-night.'
He sloncji'.ed away, but not out of the
park ; his steps turned in the direction of
the river. He would loiter a little longer,
he thought, in these pleasant pastures ; the
twilight was brilliant still, and there would
'■ be a silvery new monn presently to light him
I on his way to the gipsy encampment.
I He pas.^ed the old mansion, and wended
■ his way along the shrubbery to where the
river ran, like a stripe of silver ribbon sf-t in
green. As it came in view, he paused sud-
denly, with a faint exclamation. Fortune
had favoured the tramp for the second time
to-day.
1 T^e silvery twilight, frenini^d with sts.r?'
and lit by a crescent moom, revealed every
object in its soft brilliancy— the murnmriog
06
LADV EVKLYN.
it
troet, the glancing ripples of tlie nver, the
raedi. the waterlilie*. the yellow wUlows
fiiiiKing itH niaiKin, and the loni-ly figure of
u man— the only living creature lu the land
siape— standing iitill as a statue, gazing out
overth«glancing water, lit l.y yoD magi<-
moon. , , . n
' So,' Bald the tramp, under Ins breatli,
' 1 have run my fox to earth at laat. Now
for a »urpri«e. my great lord earl !'
His feet made no MOiind on the green
nward ; he was at the gieat mau'a elhow.
uiiBeen and unheard.
'A fincevtfninE, my Lord Clontarf ! Sincr
when li.ive you grown pastoral ?'
The Karl"' f Clontari Hwung round, aud
lookcfl in blink amaze at thii uncxp.-cted
apparition. Side by side tliej stood in the
siinry twilight, a strange contrast.
'Our tastes alter as we grow older,
p.irsued the tramp, trannfixing the great earl
with ah unwinking stare. 'Twenty years
ago, if I remenilK-r right, Mr. (Jerahl Des-
mond wasn't give i to ^lar-gaziug. It IS a
long time since we m.t, my lor<l. and
neither of UB have altered, I am afraid, for
the better. ' ,,,,.,
• Who are you ?' Tlie cold, harsh voice of
the peer expressed neither surprise nor
alarm ; the rigid, bloodless, hauglity f< .;
never moved a muscle.
' An old friend, my lord— a friend who did
you good service once. Eighteen years'
prnal servitude may have greatly changed
mu, but not beyond your noble recognition,
I hope.' , ^ ,
He took off his battered hat. and stood
with the pearly liuht of the young moon
full u^n his sun-burned, furrowed, sinistei
f »<«. , , „
* Do you know me, my lord T
The Earl of Clontarf eyed him with the
supercilious disdain with which he might
have regarded some mangy cur broken from
his kennel.
' Can't say I do. You look like a villain-
ous cockney- attorney I used to see formerly
in Ireland— a decpicable scoundrel, tran-
sported for his rascally practices. I dare-
say you're the same— there couldn't be two
such faces. You're Morgan, the attorney,
beyond a doubt. '
•Yes, my lord,' the tramp said, with
glaring eyes, ' I'm Morgan, the attorney,
returned from Norfolk Island, and Morgan
the attorney, won't stand any hard names
from yon I If you talk about "despicable
scoundrels," there's a pair of us, my
lord eaii.' ., .
Tho Karl of Clontari made one stride for-
ward, and seized the man before him in a
mighty grip by the throat.
' You dog ! Ynu transported thief I Say
another word like that to me, and I'll fling
your filthy carcase headlong into the
ri v<*r.
He rel.-ased him so suddenly and violently
that the tramp reeled biickwnrd. a'nd only
»aved himself from falling by gra^'ping atree.
' You scoundrel ! the carl Siiid. not alter-
ing thut harsh voice of his, or that net,»tony
face, one whit, ' how «br« you addrjst. me T
If you ever pn sume to do it again, I'll hare
you horse- whipped out of the cointry .'
He turned to go, but Morton savagely in-
terposed : ' Not so fai-t, my lord I Yon
may he a very great man, but I know you.
I'm a miseri.bic Ix'ggiir, and you're a rich
nobleman ; I have come to you for money,
and I must have it.'
' Indeed ! How much do you want ?
H' asked the question with a cold sneer,
a deriBivo gleam ..- his evil eyes ; but Mor-
gan aiiMWcnd det<!rmiiiedly :
' I want five hundred pounds— a trifle to
you, a tortune to me. Voi i honour, your
secret iM worth more th in tliat.'
•What secret?' He started blankly at
Morgan as lie asked the ouestion. Even
that <:-)ol hand was staggered by the super-
ior coolness of this master villain.
What secret?' he rtj- ■at»<, with a fierce,
gasping laugh. ' Your lordship's memory is
of the short I it. You never bribed anyone
to swear away a life that stood between you
aud a title, did you ! Give me five hundred
pounds— it's hut a small »um— and I'll keep
the secret to my grave that I've kept for
twenty years.'
' Not five hundred pence- not five hun-
dred farthings I Begone, you returned tran-
sport, or the servants shall kick you from
the gates. And hark ye, my hang-dog
tramp, you evince all the symptoms of mad-
ness—your words are the wildest of all wild
raving. I am a very charitable man, as you
may have heard, and my influence is great.
Thers i-> a private mad-house about twenty
miles from here, and the patient who enters
that mad-house had much better be nailed in
his coffin at once. Now, let me hear tbe
faintest whisper of these delirious ravints of
yours again, and five hours after you will be
within the walls of that mad-house for life.
I am going to the hall now ; I shall tell theni
there is a dangerous lunatic loose in
the grounds, and send the serv.ints in search.
If they find yon here, look— to — yourself.
Yon know me of old, William Morgan.'
He hissed the last words in his ear as he
— ss^H ^i*^ his !,'le!imini; evefi ou fir^-^ i h^
tramp qnailed from head to foot, and shrank
before that Imlfful pazo. An instant, and
the Earl of Clontarf had disappeared, and
LADT EVELYN.
n
Morjjar, the transport, ttood alon«, livid
with fear and fury, under the glitteriii^
•tan.
CHAPTEK Vni.
aXJECTltD.
There were theatricals at Royal Rest.
Tiie ftrnnil old manor was filled with guests
the long array of state chaniljen, empty
tlio year round, were all occupied now, ami
valets and chaniherinaids swar^iird in the
servants' liall. Lovely ladies outBhone one
another in the lofty drawing-rooms, night
a'tor night, flirtation!) besrun in Marcli last,
in linden, broken oft abruptly when t!ii>
•eaHon closed, were rr«umed 'igain, arul witli
double-added force. Royal Rest waa throng-
ed with rank and faaliion, and, to help amuse
thone languid and sated pleasure-seekers, a
troupe of actors had been imported — the
most celebrated comedian, the most bewitch-
ing little prima-donna of the day, at their
head. And to-night there waa a ball, open-
ni^- with » gay vaudeville, at Royal Rest.
Aid five minutes I>efore he went forth to
play his inave and stately role of host, Tre-
vannance stood alone in the domed picture.
(;allery, and gazed out over the darkening
prospect — for a wonder, very grave and
tlionghtful. It waa not his way to look
grave over many things ; life to him, like
another celebrated philosopiier, waaS comedy
of errors to be laughed at ; and he seldom
troubled himHelf to think rcry deeply on any
subject — it wa*! a bore. But in the gray
gloaming of this chilly November day, he
stood lost in thought — very grave and ear-
nest thought, too.
October had beamed itaelf out in crimson
and goldamid the wood1anda,and melancholy
November waa with them, w'th its whist-
ling winds, beating rain, its low lying, chill-
gray sky, ita weary aea-fog. But lite went
very brightly at Royal Rest — scores of old
friendn, good fellows all, rode, and hunted,
and played billiards with him every day, and
gossiped with him every night over the
Manilla and the nargile in the smoking-
rmim ; atd better atill, bright eyes grew
brighter as he drew near, rosy lips amiled
radiantly upon him, eyelids drooped, and
gentle bosoms fluttered at the low, caressing
words of the Lord of R.<iya! Rebt He had a
If'ng rent-roll — a longer pedigree : his man-
nera were simply perfecti-n, and be waa one
i of the handsomest men of tu^ day. No
render those silver-plumaged doves fluttered
i Wiu'i deiiuiuua iilUe lijriiin ui iiope auu fear,
rhen this gorgeoui oriole swept to their
I doTt-cutL — no wonder t'n'y hated with nn
iiit«na« and bitter depth of anvy and malii?«
uid all uncliaritableneaa, the vtolet-eyw
l>«auty of old Caatile who moved serenel]
tmong them, 'queen rose of the nwiebu*
^'arden of giils. '
And they had good cause ; for in this cold
vrray Novenil>er twilight, as he stood hen
ilune, Trovannancii waa debating withii
hnnxelf the question :
' Thev leave for Italy next week— thm
«^nd the winter in R<ime— if I apeak at all
I should speak to-night.'
Yes, the little golden-wiiigod birdi o
Paradise, beUea at last scation in orowdec
London drawing-rooms, had reaaon U
tremble tor the prize they hope<l to win-
Vivian Trevannanca would ask Evelyn IW
mond to l>e his wife. Ho had ))cen her con
xtant companion for the paat two months — f
whole lifetime down in the conntry — an<l tht
k'rand and uplifted l)eauty, who had dukei
with fifty thousand a year at tier feet, had
condeacended to l)e very sweet and gracioui
to the Lord of Royal Rest. There waa
always a smile to welcome him when he came
— she waa ever ready to allow lum to
be her escort and cavalier on all occa-
sions, for he waa entertaining, and could
talk to her aa very few men she met
in society could talk. She was very gracious
and very l)eautiful— he was the envied of
every man he knew. Her father looked
bland approval— there could be little doubt
what Uie answer would be when the roo-
mentoas little queittiou was asked ; and yet
— oh, innate porversitT of man 1— there waa
not the faii< St thrill of rapture in the breaat
of Vivian Trevannaneo as he stood at the
oriel window, with the dusky (ort-aite of hit
dead-and-gone ancestors glooming down up-
on him fom the walla.
He must marry sometime — it waa the in-
evitable lot of man — as well as now aa later.
He was very muc. in love, no doubt Not
with that fierce, and frantic, .nd deaperate
passion that some fellows get up, and which
makes the stock in trade of Tennysona, and
MuBsets, and Merediths — not with that jeal-
ous, fiery, devouring and altogether uncom-
fortable flame that scorches some impasaion-
ed and undisciplined hearts to cinders — bat
with a gentlemanly, well-bred love a la mod*.
She was beautiful and stately, and as proud
as a young queen, three very e«a«itial re-
quisites ill tlie future lady of Royai Rest —
he waa pr pared to be a most devoted hus-
band, as husbands go. No doubt they would
be aa happy a pair as ever made a sensation
at Ut. George 'a, Hanover Squars.
*' And Amethyst, and Kivers, and the Most
Noble the Marquis of Rooksilver, will v^rj
likely blow their brains out.' wa» the friend-
as
LADY KVKLYN
ly wind-up of Mr. Tr«T»nn»tice'« cogiUtion*.
'Come w.^al, come woe, this niglit. my peer-
IM* C*«til.«.. KoKf, the U»t of the houiie
of Tievannan..« shall prnftnUe hini*ell »»
thy imperial feet and hear Ins doom.
Tli« tiaijio aoature which woun.l up hit
.ol.lmiuy wa« worthy 'Milord Brown-
Smith' himself in the corr in({ vauderille.
And then, with a 'am le on hia hp. »nd
lo>»<inK especially han.liome, and with the
com teona grace of a prince, the Lord oi
Royal Reet rteacended to meet and miuglC
with hia guetU. • » » i«
She was wondroualy lovely to-niKlit— in
her proud i.tafeline8«-hor pale, delicate
beauty— her pati ician Brace. Her perfumrrt
laces fl(.ate.l soft and miaty about her : above ,
berricl.. gleaming ailkn, her mother a SpaiiiaU
dmmonda gUmm.red ar. 1 f'PP ^^^ '» ^J^
Blowing light ; the soft, abundant, jetty
hair *aa drawi: back off the venitd templee.
ftnd a diamond star «h( nc above the low. |
da-Hie brow. She was rarely lorely, uud the
dewy violet eyes benmo.l gi.ntly on the cour- ;
teous and hnn.lHome lor.l of the n.anor. und
the proiut. <Mirvtd lips smiled their hruhtest
u she listened to his low. caressing vuice
Haughty, hign-born bosoms throbbed with
bitt. rest envy as siie floated by ou the arm
of Vivian 'IVevannance, tlie lon^; lashes fall-
ing, the stHglike head drooping ever so
sliuhtly uner h « gaie anl his words.
She sat by his side duri' g the vaudeville,
» most laughable buleBoue of ' M.lor Mug-
gins' MiKhaps in P.-vris / origi....! aud comic-
al enough even to throw those seated Inlen-
*T« into uncontrollable Unghter. And, when
the play end. .1, mi.I they enteral the long
and lofty ball-room, resplendent with light,
embow.ied with flowers, gorgeous with
magnificant toile's. sparkling with lovely
faces, she was still by his si.le. and the most
.levoted lover thst ever wett mad for ladye
^"'^Strephon and Phillis I' laughed the couu
teas Portiei, as, later in the evening, he bene
over her chair. ' You »ct your part to the
life, my friend. I'he arrows of Cnpid are
sharp mv f^ith ! when shot from the blu-
eves of la x^-norilr, since even your chain-
mail armour has been pierced. And when j
are w»- to condole— not conpratuUte you my ,
''"^levannnnce laughed He saw well]
enough the spitetul eye-flash of the daalung
Italian coquette, and the sharp sarcasm un-
der the laughing tone. But he lingered over
her chair contentediy-she was pretty and
K,;ii:...,f snil atnuseil him: and althouL-licn
the very verge of matrinionuil proposal, Mr.
Trevaiiiiance. like most of his sex. was not
beyond being amused by another lady. tX9
bought c
—tell it
muHtxpeuk tonight-the ...-__ -
him more than once, with-tell it aot In
(Jath ! -mu>h the same sensaUon »•, in h»
nursery days, th'. rfcolle.tlou of • d.we of
nauseoui medicine loomed in perBi>e<.liv«
And yet this high-born beauty was every^
thiiia morUl man could seek in a wife. I He
ball whir ed on-the ' wee sma' hour, ayoiit
the twal • had come, ; and oit ou beyond all
this glowing light nnd profusion of fl'>w«"--
ti.is music, and dancing, and brilliant assern-
bl»ge-a bleak, raw morning was l>f*»«'ng
over the woild. shrouded in mist, and bitter
with wild, waibng wind. It was no ewy
matter for the host to monopolize the b«U»
oftheUll, *nd bear her off to some lecret
^pot whe;ehe might fall at h« f.et »n<l
brMtbe bin > onsuming pawion.
Fortune seemed to f >vour him at IMt n»
1 had watched her glidina away, and vanl^
I Tnto a curtained recea. d"*" ' V.^^.^n';;!!
of drawing rooms; but Udy Clydesmor,
held him captive, and he listened to her airy
chatter, anil 'smiled and smiled.' and wish-
ed her most devoutly at-Jorpa! id It
was only when » long-haired, bearde. po,t
Ta^e ftlong-the Ute.t lion in the b -rary
n^nagerie-!:th.t «he lebased her chufing
serf and permitte.i him to rush to h.s doom.
She' stoo*! within the curUinel Mch, La
Rose de Cui' ile. bnt-not .lone. Bemde t he
tall, tropical pU .te-the gorgeous South
American flo. .-a mai; fj-' "^•^ ^'l
whose face, poor v^ retell ; told the Ule t
his mi-.ery, as Mirely as the faw of soni*
luckless Russ an serf under the knout.
I Trevannance never forgot that tablean
vivantallhis lifelong-the miser-ible day
breaking, wi bout the deep Maltese window,
in rain, and wind, and gloom ; -he tos.ii.g
tree, of the park ; the far-oflFink-black sea ;
the bellowinp of the deer under the beeche-. ;
and within, the soft warmth, the rub light,
the delicious music, the p.rfumeaiid luxurN.
and those two fij<ures-oiie drap<d in (jUtte.
ing silks, and bees, and jewels, the haughty
h.^d drooping, the exquisite face pale, st» t-
led, sorrowful, and bis grace ot Amethyst,
pallid with fiuitlee. love, and man a unbeiir-
able pain. ,
« For God', sake. Lady Evelyn ! don »
drive me mad 1 I cant live without yom i I
I can't, by—'
I ' Ob hush !'— her > uice was full of infinite
I compassion. ' I am sorry ! I tried to avoid
I this— I have foresoen this. Do not . y
i another word— I am bitterly sorry you should
have said this muvh.'
' Tiion tnei C isnoauirc.- yj^.-< A .' —
.aid. hollowly.
Her answer wa. a gesture a. she turnci
LADY EVELYN.
89
b« thought crc
with— t«U it not In
I MDUtion M, in his
1(H tlou of a tl"«« ot
med in ppnipeclive
I beauty wh* every-
seek in a wife. The
wte •ma' houra ayont
,nil 01 ton btyond all
trofunioii of flowers —
, ami brilliant axwm-
>rning wae breaking
<l in mint, and hitter
id. It was no eaay
monopolize the bell*
er off to acme aecret
fall at her faet and
paasion.
vour him at laat Ha
ng away, and vaniali
down tb«> long viaU
it Lady Clydt-imor*
tie listened to her airy
,nd smiled,' and wi^h-
at-Jo('pa! id It
.h»ire<i. bearded pfHst
it lion in the lit-iary
leUaacd her chafing
m to rush to his doom.
If curtamel arch, L»
not alone. Benide the
-the gorgeouB South
tiuii stood near her,
stch told the tale . f
as \hf facB of sotti*
inder the knout.
forgot tiiat tableau
j{— the miserible day
deepMalttsi- window,
jd kIooui ; 'b.- tostiiiig
B far-off ink. iilack sea ;
ecr miller the beeche-* ;
warmth, the r^ctj Upl.t.
lie prfumoand luxurv .
—one drap'd in »?littei
,iid jewtis, the haughty
tquisite face pale, »t«it-
his grace of Amethyst,
love, and man'a ui.beiir-
, Laily Evelyn ! don *
i"t live without yo« i I
^ nice waa full of infinite
sorry ! 1 tried to avoid
ceo 'this. Do not ay
bitterly aorry you should
I
O DGpr ; p-..'--t .• —
a gesture m the turned
from him and looked out at the beating
•now.
' And it ii for that fellow, Trerannanca, I
am rejticted !' the duke oried, hardly know- t
ing in hia pain and pawiion, what he aaid,
' A good enough fellow, no d(«ibt ; but what
ia he, that you all are ready to throw over
tvery other man for him ?'
•Your grace I'— tie slender figure waa
erect instantly, the violet eyt-a flasning with
true Castilian fire — ' the pain 1 have uauaed
you givea you many privileges, but it givea
jrou none to inault me I'
And then, before he oonld utter even that
remoraeful, 'Oh, torgive me I' that hauuhty
beauty bad swept away like a vouiik quten,
and the Duke of Amethyst, with hia fifty
tlidusaiul a year and his lacerated heart, waa
left alone, to stare blankly at the wntohcd
dikwn of the day. With a hollow groan, he
dropped down, hii arma on the wide window-
sill, hia face on his arms, and lay theru, to
do battle with his passionate pain. It had
nasKed in a niinnte — a minute durii g whieh
1 revannance stofwl imaolute, eavesdropping
nnconaciously. Now he turned softly to go.
' Poor fellow I' he muttered, ' he is hard
hit t and she — well, she's only like the leat
of her aex— crnel loi death to the man who
loves her Ix-st. '
'I'he bail endetl, and its giver nad nf. ■
spoken. Lady Evelyn had vani ie<' »**« he
returned to the ball-room. Amthj-? waa
beheld no more, and his wild, v^'i-'pone
face hannted Trevannance, as thv";;!i h»
had seen him slain before him in colt ' 'u,hL
But he rode over to Warbetk Hall, next day,
resolute to ' do or die.' He had oonie of a
da ring race, and waa aa ready to lead a for-
1j n hope, or storm a breach, or niieta foe
under the trees before breakfaat with pistola
or swords, or ask a lady to marry him,
M any of his fire-eating anceatori, since
Not man Willii^m down. It waa a gray,
ciiill, snd cheerless day, ' ending in snow '
—the dull, leaden sky lying on the tree-tons,
the raw vea wind complaining wretchedly,
the damp piercing you through.
But, despite it all, she was out pacing up
and down the marble terrace, wrapped o a
vast crimson burnonae, a little velvet cap on
head, gazing out at the far sea line.
He wei t straight to his doom, as the Sir
Hugos and Sir Malises, in the portrait gal-
lery at Royal Rest, had done, with compla-
leiit smiles on their lips, to Tower liii! ; and
the face of cold surprise she turned on him
intimidated him no more than the axe and
headsman had intimidated those dauntless
herot'g.
.-<iie was very pale in the bleak afternoon
lijlbt, and the violet ey es looked dark and
weary, and melancholy. Th< re waa a tired
expression in the beautiful face, a listh-M
slowness in her w-tlk, a dep h ot monrnful
ueas in her deep, suleiiiu eves.
Perhaps his face trdd hta errand, for stie
looked startled perhaps his first abrupt
words did—' Lauv Evelyn, I have come to
say gooil-bv !' — for she glanced round ler
for a second with a wild iuntinct of flight.
But the belle of iiKiiety could obey no
untutored instincts : the bug lashesdrooped
over the azure eyes ; the pale face lyrew like
marble ; she walked proudly and resc-
lutely on.
' liidced 1 she said, and the word dropped
from her lipa chilling us ice : * then good-oy,
and bon voydge. '
Ho had heard his doom I Hia bnndsome
face paled, his teeth set, his eyes (la*lie<l.
She should hear him now. this iulolew.l>Iy
haugi.ty Caati'ian ! He faced her, very
pale, nsolute as death, and— asked her to
be Ilia wife. She looked up at him, full in
the face for a moment, and dead xilenee fell
between them. That clear, aonlful, woman-
ly g«ze read him to the heart Then her
ansM < I uume— brief, frsesing, indescribftbly
pruod :
' No I'
She turned to go aa she said it, more
haughtily than he had ever seen her bef( re
■n his life. He ground his teeth under bis
yfard, and his deep eyes flashed.
' You mean it, lady Evelyn ? There is no
^ppeal ?*
' There is none. '
' And yet I love yon J'
She 811 '»d a brief, ohill, disdainful
nitllti — htr latlier's own.
' Do you ?' she answered, with a slight
foreign shrug ; 'very likely I Mr. Trevan-
nance has loved many women, or rumor
strangely belies him.'
' I never loved any woman well enough
before to ask her to be my wife. '
She bowed, that cold, slight smile still OB
her face ; the clear, violet eyes knew him *s
he knew himself.
' You have paid me m high compliment^
then. Believe me, I am very grati^ful. And
now, as I niay not see you (gain, once more,
adieu, and a pleasant voyage to — Central
Africa, is it not ?'
She fio iti d nway with the most profonnd
and graceful of courtesies ;and if Sir Malise,
on Tower Hill, t 'th his bead on the blook,
and the mighty axe swinging in mid-air,
felt anything like hi!< last ditcendant, stand-
ing alone on the terrace, the feeling* of that
uiar VT u> iiie cjiuatt t^wtv were by uu uiesua
to ) e envied.
«0
LADY EVELYN.
He broke into a U««h-s laugh that was
lond but not at all pleasant to hear.
•1 pitied poor Amethyst last '"gt\t 1 By
Jove ! I'll g" an<» 1'""* *''" ""^^'^^ '''?g*r
i; and weUl condole w.th one .nother
!?;re. ked in the same boat. M»cry
•^AKen. whittling ehrilly, and
the tree. *ith hi« riding whip. t"e Lor
Royal Rest rode home, and wrote out
•econd telegram to his crony,
Mounteagle, in Vienna :
loves
slashing
of
a,
on
' Deab Mount : Meet me in T.ondon
the 15th. High time to go up the Mie.
CHAPTER IX.
'A MAKKIAOB OF CONVENIKNCB.'
There was a little room a<ljoining the
libraA at Warbeck Hall, sacred to tl>at pro-
f S statesinan. the Earl of Clontarf Here
he eal and wrote his letters uud.sturhed
bv the gav life around him ; there he spent
the chief part of each day until <hnncr. Tv^o
o t e t^nies a weeU lie paid his cmntc.s a
c n'moniousviHitinher apartments a a
"rwa t o a.ivan.emei.t of his P-rty «-»
atleetion for his daughter wa« secondary
to that. Hev/asproudofheraiul >"''d °»
her he wished her to marry the man of his
choice so hut her husban.l might p.unge
t:; a^id body, into the political v-t- and
become a lead.r in the land and he ">"««"
the proKcnitor of a long hno o[ bnl laiit
statesman Tim was why he hioked so
Swon an. l;-" i'lt ^.s Orace of
Amethvst I'oHii.-ally. Amethyst^ was a
b a n less nonenity ; this was chiefly why
il,o. he so anlentiy desired her union with
Viv an Trevannance. The Lord ot Royal
Rest waH hriUuntly taK-nted, cUver and
fubtik-of th.. Ktuff of which em.nent poll-
tSnsaremnd... With him for his son and
clever men ; woman's wit had been know.
reTow to farther man's ^^old ambition. Bu
these were the exceptions— the Man* Ihe-
resas The Queen Elizabeths, the Aspas.ms J
Lsa ;hole. ife regarded them -i^h -patient
contemptuous disdain. But 1 "le a. he
knew how to fathom with l.is political
Tineand plummet the sea of love, he could
SoHcern easily enough the devotion o V.vjan
ote out a I Trevannance to his beautitul daughter He
Tr Fulke ' would propose one of these ditys, and shs
S.r Fulke wou a p p ,,, thought, complacently
i and then he would take Trevannanc. m
' hand, and send him forth into tlie arena of
BUte craft, the mo.t Uleuled young leader
of the times. . . , . v,ip.u
Watching from his windo>^, this bleak
afternoon, he saw the brief interview-saw
h s dauR Iter sweep maj-Btically away,- and
.w in the face of Vivian Trevannance th..t
he had been rejected. ,
Rejected ! He had never .ireamed of
that' Men bowed to his every wuh -for
the past ten years he had earned all l>etore
him'^ ith a high hand : and m:w to have h..
5a"H:;;oie.ro;;;s;V by the capnce of .
«hi mv git '. Am./.ement, incre.iuliiy. rage.
« verilTernately over the great earl's face
•Tv Heaven ! she shall not refuse him,'
he said, starting up and flinging open ^u
' Here Evelyn, a word with
She was passing, in her slow, ff-aceful
way. down the d-med and marbled hall. At
the sound of her father's voice she paused,
and stood looking at him in q"'f .fV^r^*^; j
' Come unto mv study,' he said briclly. 1
have something to say to you
She ben' her head, and loUowed him m
silence. If she won.iered, her face did not
show it. She was a little surprised, all the
same There had been very httle intimacy
or confidence ever between the ear and ...
only daughter. She had never loved her
father-never, even in her earliest infancy-
what she regarded her mother with a pas-
Ti nate affection. She had no affection
whatever for her fataer, and ber remorse at
that very lack of affection made her doubly
Inxious -to obey him hi U. smallest m^^^^^^^^^
y [11111 sii V..W - I J-
access;:;: Wd Contarf locked' e^^ti^ 1 It is tru. he _ha. rare^^e.^«l any^ol^.
forward to a da/./.ling future, and theh.ghest \ ^J^^^J^^^ ^^^ ,,^ ^e been the tyrannical
honours ot the kingiloni.
Thiswin.ly Noveml>er Rfternoon. as he
sat a one. blooding over his papers and am-
lotions projects, he saw Trevannance pin
lady Evelyn on the terrace. The tcmler
n Jon wa' a very ohl memory no-
I. , i.^__l _t r'l.>ntiirf ? W
t.or.ia na:i •'. .i--— -.
b -en his weakness : he i
tn cynical disdai '. They
wlole sex wi
useful to' Ic. sometimes, in
ence trom n«i — "^ """ " , . °. ,
of parents- but had he been the tyrannical
oM despot of the melo-drama, she would
have yielded her will to h.m in almost all
things, thr.-ugh her strong se.i^e of duty.
He placed a chair for her now, with grave
,V no- with , courtesy. She bowed ^•tV?n tLe.i'"' He
^^n had never ' and took ,t, qu-etly prepared to listen.^^ He
...J ...^nn tViB i ri-slUIHJli iiiS OITH 3CAt tr.Y •_■.•'- j ., ^
broached
with
were
. once.
the hand« of Vivian Trevannance wi
!th vou on the terraee
LADY EVKLYN.
61
been know*
nV)ition. But
Mari» The-
le ABpksiu ;
tb impatient,
ittle as he
liis political
i)vc, he could
ion of Viviau
aughler. He
ays, and «h«
complacently
svaniiance io
I the arena of
young leader
w, this bleak
terview — saw
Uy away,- and
vaunance that
■ (Ireamed of
rery wiHh-for
i-ied all belore
(;w to have his
e caprice of »
iredulily, rane,
jat earl's face.
)t refuse him,'
ging open the
a word with
slow, graceful
jrbled hall. At
ice she paused,
quiet surprise,
said brietly. ' 1
1.'
lUowed him in
er face did not
rprised, all the
little intimacy
the earl and his
lever loved her
arliest infancy —
,ther with a pas-
ftd no affection
d her remorse at
lado her doubly
sniallest matter.
iacted any obedi-
\ most indulgent
u the tyrannical
ama, she would
lim in almost all
sense of duty.
• now, with grave
;h equal gravity,
ed to listen. He
at once. ' I saw
/ou on the terranr
yonder, five minutes ago, my daughter. I
can guess what his errand was— he sskeu
you to be his wife?'
She coloured famtly, and bent her head in
assent.
' And you consented ?'
'No, papa, I declined.'
•Ah, you declined ! And why?'
The faint cose-light dawned in her face
again ; the violet eyes drooped.
' I suppose one sliould love the man one
marries. I do not love Mr. Trevannance.'
'Oh I' the earl said, with a cynical sneer,
' you don't love Mr. Trevannance ! Senti-
mental, certainly, but not satisfactory. I
presume you don't love any one else ?'
•No, ipapa.' The drooping face lifted
proudly ; the violet eyes met liis full. Mv
Lord Clontarf rather shrank from the gaze of
those singularly beautiful and brilliant eyes
they reminded him uncomfortably of
other eyes, sealed for ever on earth.
'Then I thnk Mr. Trevannance has great
cause of complaint ; you certainly have en-
couraged him. He has been your cr>nstant
companion, your favoured attendant, during
the past six weeKS, to the exclusion of all
others. And at the last you reject him. I
thoug it Lady Evolvn Desmoud was too
proud to stocp to coquetry.'
' I am no cj.'quet^. '
But she coloured painfully as she said it,
with a conscious sense of guilt.
• No -it would be coquetry iu any one
else, tlien. Have you any especial aversion
to Viviau Trevannance?'
'No.'
'He is wealtKy, clever, accomplished,
handsome— all that any girl could desire.
You love no one else, and you have no aver-
sion to him. Then, my dear, you shall marry
the Lord of Royal Rest.'
' Papa. '
' My daughter, I have intended it from
the first — set my heart upon it. I did not
speiik of it before, heciiuse I thought of your
own free will, without any interference of
mine, you would choose him. You have not
sen fit to do so. therefore it is liign time
I should step in and proclaim my wishes.'
' Papa,' Lady Evelyn saiil, growing very
pale, ' you should have spoken sooner, ^t
ie too late now. I have refused him.'
' Not in t e least too late, my dear. A
young lady « first "no," means nothing,
as so clever a fellow as Trevannance fully
umiersUnds. He shall speak again and
you shall say yes. ' *
Sue sat still as death, pale a> death, in
her chair, her hands folded, her eye.H fixed
on tlie cold Novcmlier sky, on the wor-
ried trees, rooking lu the iiigh antumuai gaie.
' As for love, and that sort of thing, it is
very pretty in little books bound in blue-
andgold, and one likes to hear of " two
souls with but a single thought, two heart*
that beat as one, " from a box in the grand
tier of Her Majesty's ; but in real life, my
dear, it isn't practicable. Mr. Trevannance
is sincerely attached to you, ( urn positivf—
very proud of you, and will l»e us devoted
after marriage as is consistent with publia
duties : and you will esteem him and do
honour to his choice, and be as happy aa is
at all necessary or customary. It is an em-
ineiitlv suitable matih.'
Was it a smile that dawned so faintly
over the pale, proud face as she listened— a
smile like the reflection of his own— cold,
disdainful, cyuical ? But she never spoke ;
she sat still as stone.
' In the land where you were liorn— in
the convent where you were educated—
ynung girls are not permitted to choose in
these ma'ttrs for themselves. Their pa-
rents or guardiiins do it for them. You
have .wen your companions taken from their
convent-school to the bridal altar, without
any option on their part, and thought it all
right. It is your turn now.' Still blank
silance. Pale ad cold she sat, rigid as
marble, her ey .i fixed on that lowering sky,
that dreary, darkening prospect. ' 1 have
seldom interfered with you, Evelyn, or as-
serted my paternal authority before ; I do
most emphatically a'-sert it now. You must
promise me to marry Vivian Trevannance.'
She tui \ and looked at him ; once again
I his eyes sluJted and fell before hers. ' Do
I you want me to go to hmi and offer myself,
I papa ? I see no other way in wli'ch my mJB-
I take of today is to be rectified, '
I ' Nonsense— of course not ! Rest easy ;
I he shall repeat his proposal !'
' At ymir instigation ? Rather liumiha-
. ting, is it not ?'
'My dear Evelyn, this part of the busi-
ness need not cot ceru you I Trust to me ;
your maidenly delicacy shall be remembered
' and respected : yet Vivian Trevannance
'' shall repeat his proposal I'
■ Shcro?e slowly. 'Have you »nything
more to say ? May I go ?'
' You have not answered me yet, Evelyn.*
' There can be but one answer. T will
obey.'
' That is my good girl. And I have not
made yow unhappy ? YV.u are pale and
, coid as a statue ' He spoke a little wistful-
■ ly. In his hard, cruel, selfish heart ther*
was one pure an I tender place, and his
' daughter held it. Her cold, passionless
look and tone never altered.
■ You iiavo (iiif itiSilf n^ ? nnnairn-- -
f
I
LADY RVKI.YN.
«2
only regret yon did not .»y all this sooner
You knew 1 wonld ol.ey yo«.' She turned \
JroudW ro Ro. But he drew h.r to him .ad
kjaaed her white brow.
. Oo'l ble.« you. Evelyn .nd make you
h»ppv ■ And » he uttered the benediction
K DenmondV cloudless blue eyes looked
un at him from his ch Id's face. NV ith a sort
oFlroa^ he pushed her from Imn, sank
dow,Mn his -al and covered hi. face with
hU hv ds. There are otlier pu,.mhment« for
{^e .header of blood beside, the h»ugman
»ud the halter.
CHAPTER X.
THB KESCUK.
The Counters of Clontarf very rarely left
■ouiii rn wing of Waroecu ai»i».
'^'^r^^:r'::J^^:u.^y away into
confirmfa invHlidi.m. -^-"^"'"1;"^; i
in<r to know what ailed her. But my
Udy Clyde^more. an impenou, young '
Sot rn'petticoats. came sometimes to
these apartmenU, and ^*^>'8ked the in
vaid peeress off. willy-n.Uy, for a duve
in her own pony phaeton. The pal.,
weak couute/ had U le strength or en-
Trav left to resist the pretty, impetuous
whfrlwind. aHd yielded, because yielding wm
• Ta er than resistinK, It wa« • -^ ;>«y^« « ^ 1
s^raTati%::r;h:d f s; ^ \
ii wa m and mellow, the aky blue and ,
brUliaiit, and the fresh saline l^eath of old
i^ein. sleeping far off in golden ripple., de-
^'^^?:i:u^:::^;^aweepingontp.«^^^
lyipn-tty Lady Clydesmore. m the ^»a>"t.est
o^ Iming costume.; the {■•»«>"* ^PVw
--.nntess robed in black from head to f.iot,
her pXl moonlight beauty looking quite
JtarKhv contrast. She eaned on her
tn'PiorJ» arm. moving slowly and wearily.
• Where's Evelyn f she asked.
•Evelyn is not comine.' Lady Clyde.more
•nswered ' Don't youTtnow she plays Lady ,
KTntiiul in the pirish -my dnty^ I .np-
• TOM : but she does it. and she has gone to \
Srit.'a letter for some old Goody or Gaffer
ILT.on in the United SUter Bythe by.
S. ha. been a. .olemn a. a churchyard th.
paittwodaya. Wh.t ao you supi~B5 ■ —
"lSV Clyde.mor. looked keenly at her
•ompauiou « she asked the queation s but
the still, pa'e face of the count«ss told no-
*'' '"Evelyn i. never gay.' she said quietly^
.No-lmt-well. perhaps it.s only a fancy
«f mine after .11. Apro ok of nothing, lr«-
^aiu a. ce off again.%>s father mn-t play
host at Royal R^'st. What restless Wmpi
^'^^I.rr doM't know Mr. Trevannance .
^I'^^nKowu the Niger, across the
Amazon. .' anvwhere-anywhere out of the
world " We shall mi«s him hornbly-tho
o. Iv man I know who talUs to m-. and .-an
Ulk without pl.ti'u.lns or compliments,
baeknryed and old as f. e hil s. P.ty i.e
do?t marry ; as Thackeray', old dowager
IftdvKew savs. ' A young man like that
shSd I've at his places, and be an example
t^ his people.' 'But they wont. He leaves
to-niuht, anrt I am— sorry ! , . i
The countess said nothing: .he un-l.r^tood
her frien.1. an.l was .orry too p«.l.ps.
Kev both knew intnil.vely. that Udy
EveWn had refused hi.n, and t|at was why
he was off 'up the Nde. und down the
I ^ Th'v had left the park-gates far behind
th. . and were howling along the most de-
lill fnl of high-roads tjie waving trees on
eiU er hand arching ov^rhe.ad. and for,n<n«
fl f,</,atur.l avfnue. The steppers were
"womrerlul bennties to 'so ;' spirited if v-u
like but kiodlv and well in hand, an.l how -
ed along over the broad, ro !in« road, swift
„d smooth.When sud.lenly-a wa. the
most abrupt and tragic thing conce,v«ble--a
man leaped out from amo.m tke trees, and
I fired onrtwo. three shots in qnick s-.cce.sion
! from a revolver. Before the report o. the
I .St had died awny h. had vanisned The
first shot misled; the second rared the
flank«"ft»'« off.wheeler; the third wh,7,/.ed
'Svertheheadof the Counter of Clontarf
w.thin an inch of 1 er temple. Anl the
nonies with wild snorts of pain, and mg.
ZdZnor, were oH and away l,ke the wind.
The shots were heard. A party of eentle-
n^n a"in the rear--Lord Clydesmore.
i^rd Clontarf, General Trevannance and hi.
ijnlaet spur, to their hoises, and galloped
fSriously in the direction But a far-off
mSty cloud of dust wan all that remained
of the pony-phaeton, and a man standing
2l ag»P«, "nder the trees. r only hving
l*'lThaU.*"it,mfmanT Who fired those
( .hotst' shouteit General Trevannance.
! Th. man turned-he wa. a countv rustic.
i who took of his hat to the gentry, »u<l n.aa.
a clumsy bow l^f^re he answered.
'I dunno. zur ; but there be leddie. id
LADY F-VELYN.
(t3
I teas told no-
said, qiiictly.
H only 11 fancy
nothing, Tr«-
ber mu<t pl»y
satless lieingt
Trevannance !
jfcr. across the
lere out of the
horribly— tho
to m". ai'<1 <•*«
compli"i>'»itB,
hills. Pity lie
V old dowager
man like that
be an exitinple
out. He leave*
she un<l.*r>itoo(l
■ t<io, p«rhap9.
•ly. tlial I^dy
l" tlat wao why
und down the
rates far behind
onp the most de-
waving trees on
•ail, and foiming
\\p BtcpperR w eie
;' xpirited, if V""
hand, ami howl-
oliing road, ewift
Illy — it wa» the
ng concciv«l>le — a
12 tke trees, and
II qnink s'.iccession
the report of 'lie
I vanisiipd. The
pcnnd ra.':ed the
the third wiiiz/.ed
[itrsa of Clontiirf,
einplc. Ami the
if pain, and ngf
way like the wind.
A party of eentle-
Lord Clydeamore,
levaiinance ami hi?
oises, and galloped
ion. But a fsr-off
n all that renin incd
d a man, atanding
eg, r only living
I Who fired those
Trevannance.
ru a count' V rn?tic,
le geniiy, mud n.^ns
unewered .
here be leddiei in
yon coach, and f month o' Hell Pit it be
onpen, zur, and — '
But they beard no mo-e— with a cry ol
horror, Trevannance ipurred bi« horse madly
on, ahouting. frantically : ' It it L.dy
Clydesniore'8 pony phaeton, and Hell lit
•haft is open, and— For heaven's sake I ride
for your lives !' , , • j
His last wards came wafted on the wind ;
he was far ahead already. He knew what
the man's words meant— the old, disused
mining-ground lay straight bofore them, and
sudden death held reign thare. They fol-
lowed him as rapidly as they could ; but his
horse flew like the wind. Ahead, tlie raging
ponies tore on their way, straight to that
awful place. , , , ^, ,
'Oil, Ood, it is too late r Lord Clydea-
more gapped, sick and dizzy with horror ;
' and B-tttrice is there !' The strong mm
closed his eyes lor an instant, faint as a wo-
man, on the verg- of swooning. A great
shout aroused him. He sp.irred his charger
furiously on, and there st.od Vivian Tre-
vannance at the horses' hesis. Hi lia.t
hu'led himself off his own animal,
and, like lightning, grasped the ponies
hads at the risk of almost certain
trampling to death They w^re on
t e very verge of the old, disused snatt. Me
held them in his mightv grasn, while they
tore, and plunged, and reared, and almost
dragged his arms from their sockeU. But it
was only for a five seconds ; the other men
w«re upon them, and they were mastered
Tievannance, with his hands all torn an 1
heeding, was the first to approach trie
phaeton. The Countess of ClonUrf lay back
fn a dead swoon ; but th. high courage of
Lord Clydcsmore's wife had upheld her
through all. She was pale as death, but as
• My darline I' her husband cried. ' Oh,
Beatrice I my love I my wife !
She hebl out hei- arms to him With an
hysterical sob, and he lifted her from the
carriage. Trevannance did the same for
Lady ClonUrf, her huaband looking quietly
' She has fainted,' he said calmly. ' Bitter
go. A narrow escape my dear I^dy Clydes-
mnre. I rath'T think you owe your life to
Vivian here. Ha 1 the ponies wonnded—
bleeding— how ia this ?' ,. . ,
Lady Ciydesmore told her tUrthng tale,
Th four men listened aghast.
' Fired a revolver three tim-g in sncces-
•ion ! Oood heavens ! Lady Ciydesmore,
who waa this mau ?' aaked General Trevan-
nance. ... , , . .
'i iiAil Dni S giltJijJS': ■-■» "■'■'" "" " ■■"'
like a b«ggar, or tramp i a wretched ob
iect. But hfc vanished as quickly as he came.
There was one among her listeners who
turned white as he listened. Surely, the
Karl of C onUrf knew this myst^rioui at-
sailant. ^ __ ^
' It must have been a madman— an eacap
ed lunatic !' he said decidedly, ' No one
eUe would perpetrate Mich an outrage. We
must search for liim presently. Ouv business
now i? to convev the lailies home. V ivian,
I wish you would ride forward and prepare
tb.ni utWarl)eok Hall.' , , , , _, ,
' Bn Mr. Trevannance.' • iMV Clyrtes-
more interpoaed, 'your hao-ls .•;e frk-htfully
wounded. See how thsy bleed ! Oh, you
must not—' . , ^, J •
' Mere scratches, dear Lady Ciydesmore,
Trevannance interposed, lightly, as he leap-
ed into the saddle. * Not worth a thought.
Iw
ill ride on. as the earl suggests, and pre-
pare tliemat the hall !'
He was gene as he spoke, leaving the party
behind to follow at their leisure. He reach-
ed the hall, saw the iionti' .eeper, informed
her of the accident, and inquired for Lady
Evelvn Desmond, Lady Kvelyn, attended
by h -r iiiaid, had gone to tlie village, alter
luncheon, to visit some of her poor pen
■ioiiei-8, and had not yet returned. ' If she
does return l>efore bar mother, br-ak the
news to her gently:' Trevannance said
' The countess is not in the least injured-
only frightened. It will not do to alarm
Lady Evelyn needlessly." Ha departed
again, and "rode homeward. To tell the
truth hi^ hands were badly lacerated, his
arms stiff and painful, and half-wrenched
from their sockets. ' How coolly my Lord
ol Clontarf took it,' he thought. 'I fancy
he would not have lost an hour s sleep,
though those rampaging brutes had hurled
his fair, pale countess straight to tha bottoir.
of Hel Pit. Confound the BaT«ne little
ponies ! I shall I* in a pretty condition,
for travelling to-morrow.' Once at home,
and his wounds oressed, however, he went
on with his preparations for immediate de-
parture. His valet was to precede him to
town, by the night express, he himfcelf to go
by the early parliamentary train on the
morrow.
'And, as I will have no time in the morn-
ing, I must ride over this evening to say
Bood-bve, and see how the laiies got on
after their fright. Will that dis.lainfnl
little be»uty, the Castilian Rose, deign to
«ay adieu ohm more, I wonder ? The earl
WMild have me repeat my propoeal, I fancy |
but I'm not quite so badly don for aa that.
My lady haa said no, and, though she were
»».es >a lovely, no it must remaiu. " If she
be not fair for me. what care I how fair ahe
I
-I
04
LADY BVELYN.
UV" So when the white iwc of Nt.vem-
l,«r moon sailed hiRh »'/''« ,»^°''''.''^":;:'"^
Irev uuai.oe renu.uiited and rude ovei to
Warbeck Hall.
(.'HAP 1 KR XL
HKTRtUHKU.
Through p.inted « .adows the .ilvery
li.ht xleunu'l falli..K "< lon« ap^ars of gold
and purple and crimson on the oak.,n tluo . ,
At one lofty caBen.ent Kazn.g out at the;
„i.'ht, L;uly Ev.lyn Desmond .tood. Her
bue sUk dinner dress tra. ed the floor;
a rich >Nhite rose gleam, d. nth. silky masses ,
of her dark hair. The lorely face,
was as colourless M that suowv rosa. bhe ,
rtXl like some exquisite statue-marble
white, marble colS. At the sound,
of rapid footsieps on the oaken
floor she glanced around and saw the man
of whom she had been think.ng-the n.an
who had save.l her mother « 1 fe. at the nsk
of h.s own. Her own hfe saved ten times
over, would not have awakened half the
"ru. t udo she felt now. Aa the.r eye« "'"^
I faint carnation hue w.-se "V«r theex,iu,».te
fact- a.ul the violet eyes that had so lately
rttahed upon him, full of haughty pride and
'"^t':''r'i.Muae, Udy Evelyn?' Trevan.
uauce .^•i\<'-^. 1 K^'tlv. ^iU nuconscious ot wh|.t
was pas^i.,;; m that .Imturbed heart I
have iome t" a.quire after the Ladies Clon-
UrfandCI> .uaore.and seeing you here
made bold to venture in. I trust I have
iiottlinturbed you?' „.„^.-
' You h^. ' not disturhed me,' she answer-
..,1 ulriwlv and with diiiiculty.
"'■ And ymu- n.utherV Ihope herfright ha.
dune Iv.r no serious harm ?
Tloie»ot-I think not. She seemed
..uice lAiored and cheerful when I left her
half an hour u^o. She would like to see
5 .u. I th.;^. an.l thank you for the inesUm-
a .1< service you have rendered her. VVords
ar. poor and weak on such occasionsas these.
VVliat can I say. except thank you, M.
Tr xln^nce, irJm the bottom of my hear .
for saving my mother's lite.' She held out
toth hands to him. with a sudden impas^
.ioned gesture, tears standing m the bright
blue eves Deeply touched, Trevanname '
tZ .ver tho«e lltL hands and kissed them.
IB all her brilliant beauty she had never
looked so lovely, so sweet, so dear as now.
-Not auother word of thanks, dear Udy
Evelyn t You n.ake me feel hke ""/"'P^J;
tnr • for I liiu uothing, a:i=r a"--^ •"." »
wm' the.m«est triCe-tliank Heaven we
were in time.' ^
'Your
ciuickly
hands are wounded.' she said,
' Oh. do not deny it ! Lady
tlydeamore told me. They are not very
painful, I trust ?' ^ , ,. .„ ,„
• Two or tliros sciatches, and they art
iust theleastbit in t! world stifl-and uuooin-
f rtable, but so triflu.« that not even your
kindness nor Lady Clydesmore s can mag-
nify me into a wounded hero. " was a
very mvsteriousand terrible thing.andnvight
have hid a frightt,.) ending. I hope the,
will find the ina'i perpetrator of tlie «e«a.
i'ou must make my excuses to the Countess.
LaJy Kvelyn-I l>ad better not disturb her
to-night, and tomorrow I leave by the .arli-
, est train. \V, 11 you wish me good-bye and
God speed here? I shall remam but a few
minutes in the drawing-room.
' 'Then you really g"?' She spoke the
words low^y and hurriedly, her heart throb-
bing as it never throbbed be-
fore her eyes dim with hot mist, her
face averted He looked at her with won-
der. and strange, wdd hope.
' I really go. unle88--oh. Lady Evelyn I
unless you bid me stay V
SbStreicl.ea forth one hand to him, th«
other covering her drooping face. The word
vraK almost a sob. It cost the proudest of
allbeaut.e« a great deal to stoop even so
little fiom her high estate.
•Lady Evelyn!' Trevannance cried
strangely ni<.ve ,. ' Do >ou mean it ? WiU
you love n.e ? Will you be my wile ?
'It yon still wi3hit-->es!
• If I still wish it ' Evelyn ! Evelyn !
He would have clasped her >n his armn,
lutshesnrnnu away with a swift, suddeo
motion that h.ld him oR.
♦ No ' no ! no I Spare me I Oh, Mr.
Trevannance, do not deceive yourself-do
not deceive me. We do not love eaoh
other, and~> ou know it.
•As Heaven hears me, Evelyn, I lore
you better than I ever loved woman before.
Which was true enough, perhaps, for th«
fovea of Vivian Trevannance. heretofore.
: had never lost him one hour's sleep, never
I cost him ont heart-pang. Thoy had been
as brief and *s bright as the sunshine of a
Uummer day-airy lutle flirtations, that
I vvhiled away the idle hours of an idle man
' I want to believe you,' she said, sluwiy,
' I will believe you, although there are those
who say, • it is not iu Vivian TrevaunaBce t"
be true to any woman." For mt-I esteem
J^us Ii-e.pectyou:I ^ke you ; but lor
thatloveof which 1 have read and heard so
rpn<n -no Mr. Trevailnance, I do not fwl
I toward you Line thai." a a-
\ • It w.U ocm»in titn* ' »»• wh..».~H • • •'
LADY EVKLYN.
es
ed,' ibe «aid,
:ny it! Liwly
^ »re not veiy
and they »r»
tiff and uuoom-
i not even your
ire's can inag-
ero. It ws* ii
thing.andnught
. I l.dpe they
)r of the deed.
;o the CounteM.
not disturb her
»ve liy the eftrli-
le good-bye M»d
iiain but » few
i."
She spoke the
her heart throb-
tlirobbed be-
hot mist, her
it her with won-
Lady Evelyn I
and to him, the
face. The word
the pvoudest of
stoop even bo
>annance cried,
1 mean it ? Will
1 my wife ¥
, t'
,yu 1 Evelyn i'
hei in bis arms,
I a swift, sudden
> me I Oh, Mr.
:eive yourself — do
lo not love eaob
!, Evelyn, I 1ot»
ed woman before/
, perhaps, for th»
nance, heretofore,
our's sleep, never
^. Thoy hail been
« the 'iunshine of a
e flirtations, that
\» of an idle man.
/she suid, slowly,
ugh there are those
rian Trevaunance t"
For me — I esteem
like you ; but lur
! read and heard so
auce, I do not fMl
' ha whi»i>»«"l . • i*
Such
shall be the cim of ny life to win it
love »8 mine must bring a return.' ^
• I am quite frank with you, you see,
Lady Evelyn went Bteatlily on. 'Thedny
may come when I will love you denrly— there
is no reason why it should not. Perhapi. I
am cold and p.ission'ess, and different froni
others of my sex— I do not know. But of
tliis I am certain— that, as your plijhted
wife, your honoui and happiness will l»« dear-
er to me than my lite. No sulierin^ or sor-
row can ever come to you that 1 will not feel
m my inmost heart. I will ti.iuk of you— I
will pray lor you— I will tru*t you— 1 will
ni*ke yo'i happy, if I can.'
' My ds-nr.bt.' he uiiid, kiRSing a^;:iin the
slender white liaixl, ' you are an angel of
wh..ni I am moat unworthy. Of mv happi-
ucss.th'ire cvx be no doubr. I am tar bap-
pier now tlum I deserve. But I will trv
ami bici.nie wortiiy of you— worthy of the
•''TfiiireBlandmostspotliBS brnle man everwon.'
A>i(l then there was silence between tlitni,
v\hiU. the silver moon tailed up and the
earth 'i ly still umler the frosty stars.
• 1 have a favour to ask of you,' she suid,
|ire8eutly ; 'astrai^e request— an unkind
one, perhaps. But you wiil grant it, I
know.' , .„ ^ i
' You can ask nothing I will not grant,
unless it were to— resign your.-elf.' ^
* Well it is not quite so had as that,
smiling ; ' it is only that you will not al er
your plans for this. Go tomorrow, aa you
Lave int P'led ; give me time to j^et used to
my new position. In writing to you— m
her.iing frim you— in following j'ou m s,riiit
in vour wanderiiic's- the unpleasant stiange-
nrss I fe«'l now will wear otf ; and when you
return I will be able to 11 eet and greet you
as your betrothed wite should. You will
obey me in this !'
•In fevervthing— in all tluugs—my liege
lady • It is ft little cruel ; but it sliall bs
precisely as you »iy. To-night I will see
vour father ; to-mo row I depart, to bo ab-
sent ha'f a year. When I return there must
be no lielay— my Southern Rose mus,t bo my
wife*
She caught her breath, fluitiing hotly ;
but she smiled up in his f»ce bravely, and
gave him her hmd. „ t »
' And now let us say farewell- I must go
back to mamma. Good-by. Vivian, and
gornl speed.'
Siie fluttt«iMl away from him with the
w.rdllonhc^lip^aIld"ol■tofth. room. And
■o this odd wooing and winnmc is over, and
the Roae «I Caatile stood pligbted to be his
wife.
rABT rniAD.
CHAPTEE L
' THE RED QCEK5.*
'Good-night, Mignonnette I'
'Good-uinht, little Queen 1'
It was the ward of a public hospital — the
hour close upon twiligiit— the time early
spring— the scene St. Louis. The lengthy
Jiospital wards were filled with sufferera,
and for each of them .he had a kind word.
who trippid so lightly down the long aisle.
Dull eyes b.iglitened, weary, throbbing heads
liftel, hands stretebeil forth, parched lips
opened to biil her good-iiit;lit. They all
knew hei -they all b.ved her— the tenderest
ot nursts, i.he most patient of scribiB— every
one of these hospital patients knew 'The
Re.d Queen.' See her as she trips so P.eetly
so Jauntily down the long ward, with the
I last golden gleam of the April sunset bright
on her daikling, sparkling face, and great,
shining black eve<. She is as darkly hand-
some as some old Salvator or Murilla piint-
int; ; tl.e oval face dusk ly olive ; tin; long,
lazy, Amlaiusian eyes black, liquid, fiery or
melting, ns vou like ; the thick, silky, curly
crop of jetty hair, growing m little kinky
rings over the low brow, all cut hort like a
litte Imy : the lipa and chin simply perfect,
dimpled, rosy, sweet ; and her cheek—
• Her cheek is like a Catherine pear )
The side that'b next the sun.'
A little, lithe, supple figure— an airy dress,
all crimson and black— a black velvet cap,
with a scarlet feather.set jauntily, like a
crisp bl ck rings of hair at
-tliat is Red Queen, otherwise
Otherwise M lunette, the ac-
were all manner of stories
the little black-eyeil beauty.
rose-scented cigarettes, rode
boy's, on th<'
the right side
Migi'oniiette,
tress. There
afloat about
who Hinokcd
across country like a bir ', slu.t like a rifle-
man with revolver or carbine, danced lik« a
Parisian ;ircm«V«r daiurme, sang like a wood-
lark,clmttcred French like alitMe grisetto,and
spike English perfectly, with the mostdelici-
ous little accent in the world. On the Ftaeeor
off the stage, the Red Qiiee'. was bewilder-
ing. Every one knew her for the brightest,
the merriest, the prettiest little dark fa ry
alive. Further than that, all about her was
of the most hhadowy and d iusive. Shs had
first made her appeariyicc in a third-rate
New York theatre, in the role of toubrelte,
and tltst first appearan-e was a iccided hit.
Tbo freriiie. ters of the third rate, east-side
tiieatlte liegan to look esircrlv tor the httis.
III
m
ml
68
LADY liViaYN.
every iiny the
•ancy brunetfe £/ice, and brg, black eyca,
tlie piHtty little dunces, the sweet Utile
•ongg. Tlien all ut unce Miiiiiette was
wni»ked awny a Ji certain sly.isli HroHchvny
house, anil uiadu iicr liilutt a» La Hfinr
liowit, in the Mio.st »lelij{lilful little three-Jict
drnniij, witteti exp-ean y for iier, .>u<l wliiih,
aa yijii liimw, ran Jiearly om hunilrnd
niglits, anil made Minnctte f.in]"U6
But who Bi - was, ar»d wii.ie ; tie came
from, or^\ ;i -' isi.r name mijilit he, no one
knew — no, - tfvnti c nianaj^er; not licr most
intimate, 'ind ; not her most impaKsiom.-d
•ilorer. Fur of course she had adoiern, '.his
dashing, pri'tty p!'l of seventeen — more
than you wo.ild care to count ; md she
took their !>■ ucinetB, and • ecllned I heir mopi-
COHtly t;iits<, anil listened to theii jirotesta-
tioiiH witli hlack, daiioinj; "yes ot tun, and
miule them a ^taue ocurtr^y, and h ml, 'No
thank you, monsieur !' to one and dl. She
was attauliol to her profesbion-to the
doublet an 1 rapier, and jaunty slagiJ swag-
ger, the dancin.' and singiiiK, and 81 f')rth,
and was nijihtly sliosvered with bonqnei
vo'.;!ien ii'- apt lause. liut
v-as uuioiig lier iavf>uie('. patiint'^, with
fruits and fl</wcrs, ami ict and daintier, ani
soothing words and teider •miles, and \y,>
ti ,it niir-ing, wcitinc long . tira to friends
Bl hu\ne. reiidim^ uloud, . ngint; if they
chooM' ; as di s U:.!, as tenii. r, as sweet as
any Sister of t.'i^ty. She wvas n livbi^;
nddle, a brilliai i. v iiarl !i -g ttre.'i.r, witti
the sunshine ive»- rinfj:;!.';.' on ilH surface,
but with depths i.. I •• t „it no line or
plummet of aH he^f.:':i'i « :,ai; ■ winded yet.
Her sc-ret ^>.ir hir tiecret sti i Nrjt one
of those wVio iiad kn -wnher for montiis and
years Icnew nvr" of h»r than you know now.
Shi ripped away to the end of the ward,
her bands thrust into her sash, the black
cap, wiih its crimion plume, set jauntily
on the cnsp curls. She looked like a saucy
boy— an s "duciously saupy boy : yet a
woman's heart beat brightly under her
dainty bodice— a heart that of late had been
mutinous ami rebellious, and not at all the
well-trained little or^an hitherto. She
had iiur.'-ed a certain dark-eyed hero from
the very jiws of death ; that was noMiing
— she had nursed scortJ ; but the gr-iat. lu-
miuou-i brown eyes of tiiis especial patient
Bof ted strangely before Mie'innelte. n he
i^lden noontide, in the black midmght, and
a soft, lIow voice, very.s'vcit. very eh)quent,
w.-.g ever in h"r ears like distant music.
Wiien, ni^ht after night, she rame, sancy
»r.d bright, before a« enthnsiastic audience,
th.s 1.!'?, black •-■V3'< flashed first of all to a
certain box, wiiere one face invariably
ihowed : wbeo boQUeU wm« litcrallT
showered upcn their pet and faToorite. th«
most brilliant exotics were neglected foi
some tiny bunch of violeU or rotiebuds, il
his hand flung them.
And Minnette knew the symptomi of hei
complaint perfectly well, and grew bitter
and restive, and angrily impatient with
herself tor her folly. ' Ah, ball !' siie w.,uld
say, scowling at her own visage in the
gasa. 'What a little fcol you are!
Hadn't you sworn to I ate all mankind for
hei sake ? Don't you know, y u little im-
becile, that they are all alike false, treach-
erous, seltisn and cruel as death T Haven't
you been sensible all aloiif ■•'I'.d ii;iw, and
are you going to make Ri. iduit nf yvxrself
because this " li gnis-weii' haa haiidti-inc
eyes and pays you oo.i,!>:ini iits? An Eiig-
liNlimaii, too— and yor din.Idy bouad tc
hate all Englishmen ! i>ih! Mi^jmufnette.
you liiUe sim,. eton 1 ) ri .i>l.i' -neil i>; you
Let him see voiir foliy.
•^
_ and be aerved
your mother Wi'S before ; ) 1'
S(» Mignonnett.' guarded her secret with
Here- jv hm.xy, dismasted with herself ; and
wou'.i hiive been torn to pieces by wild
horses lefore bho would t,:ve him- -Ibii
paiticnl-,'- liin. -one ■' .conragiiig .v.rd, -'jt
look, oi -.i-iile. Ou this l-nnht April e.-?n-
ing she was ou, lier -arv to a •<.;' c i p itisr.J
of hers, whoec n.'ht leg \m\ bu :n bluv* a
off by an exph.s on. and who vaa otheiwias
so very seriously injured that the chances
of his recovery were as ten to one. He lay
--the last of a hing, long row. the amber
glitter of the s-uuet lighting his idoodless,
pain-drawn face— iivfuliy still aud corpse-
•Mike,' the little Amazon said, bending
over him, ' I havo cimm at last. I tried to
be here sooner, buv 't ere were so many poor
patients who 1 I'd a nord to say to me that
I could not. JVnd hov." la it with you now f
The haggard fape b -'gbteued ; the dulled
eyes lit up.
' Ah, little queen, I ktiewyou would cornel
Ood bless that tender heart that never for-
gets one of us ! You 11 write aletter for me,
mam'selle. to my poor eld mother in Ireland?'
•Certainly, Mike, witli pleasure— aa many
letters as yi u please, until you are able to
write yourself. That wiH be loon, 1 am
confident. What shall I say ?'
• Well, you see. mam'selle, it's an old
8 ory. and a long story, and it's more about
another than myself. The old mother nurs-
ed him, Mignonn. tte, aud he was as dear
to her SB the apple of her eye. I've kepi
the story to myself by his orders for twenty
years ; !'"t now, when I've one leg in the
fave. It's timi.' I made a clean breast oi ii>,
saved Lord Roderio Desmond's Ule itaua'-
LADY EVBLYN.
87
fayoorite. th«
n'fslecU'd fot
r ro«ebu(la, il
tnptomi of hei
d xrew bitter
iipiitient with
ill !' siie wi.uld
visnge in ti.e
ol you are I
I inniikiiid for
yiiu little im-
fiilse, triach-
ath ? Haven't
ii'.il ii-.i\*', and
,..t Ol* jv»i!'»elf
iiriR liHiilcjLine
Ills? All Eiig-
l>ly boii;.;.l tc
Migndnnette.
I s-neil i,: you'.
bo dcrved j*^
. '■■*'
;r secret with
til herself ; and
pieces by «ii<l
,;ve him— -tbn
giiig *.r<), jF
:lit Api ii even-
c«'f.< ;i p;itier,i
tfl be rii >>!ov»a
-iiis other wiae
lit the chancel
) one. He lay
3\v. the amber
; his iilcodless,
ill and corpse-
said, bending
nst. I tried to
e so many pf>or
sny to ine that
ivith you now T*
led ; the dulled
ou would come I
that never for-
I a letter for me,
tht-rin Ireland?'
Hsure — as many
you are able to
be toon, I am
le, it's an old
it's more about
Id mother ntirs*
ic was as dear
■ye. I've kept
rders for twenty
one leg in the
an urraai ut ii.
loitd's life utMu**
idle, from the hangm.in, first, and then
fioiii that devil's own limb alter, his cousin
Gerald. It's a long story, uiam'sclle, but 1
wiii.tyouto tell mother the whole tiiiug,
■o I know you'll 1 sten. '
•J'll listen, with pleasure, Mike. Goon.'
•Well, little <|iiet-n,' the sitk man said,
•it's twenty years ngo, as I told you, that I
returned home to Contaif, nfier a lonj:
voyage, mate of the D-incinj,' IVivish. The
first news I heard upon landing was about
the wors» news I could iieat— that my fostor-
brotiier, Lord Roderic Desmond, only son of
the Karl of Clontarf, w.-isin prison, coudemn-
e<l to deHth for the munler of ix little cottago-
girl, Ktttli:e3n O'Nea'. He was innocent, of
course. 1 kmiw it as well then .ih 1 do now,
anil I swore a mighty oath I would free him,
or die with him.
' Well, niiiin'selle, I kept that oath. I
freed lum from prison ; I took him to a loiJe-
ly place oii the seashore, and left hiin vlieic,
while I wtut for a bat to take liini to the
IJanciiig Dervish. On my way 1 im t Ins
cousin, (Jerald Dc»iiioud--a lawyer, and the
b.«ckest devil alive.
• Hut I thnnj'lit him his friend, and so did
Lord Koderic liimself, .xinl I told him what
had li;ippi-'.nd, and begged him to go to hia
cousin wliile I brought the boat.
• He went — tlte cowardly cut-throat ! —
and what passi d betwieu them I never
knew. On y a» I roundeil the point and
came in signt of the cliff where I hod left
Lord Rory, I saw two im-n struggling in a
death grip. I heard the n p rt of a pistol.
Then one tumbled backward into the sea,
ami the other fled like a madman from the
spot.
' I rowed with all my micht, mam'sclle,
and- 1 reaehed the dace as the body arose.
He was not dead— he was not even senseless
—he was badly wounded ; but tl.e bu.let,
aimed at his heart, had unMed iU mark. I
drew him into the boat. 1 had the ftrength
of giant in that hour, mam'selle, and 1 put
for the Daneins Dervish. Half an hour
after, and we were on our way to Melhounie,
with Lord Roderic lying like a dead man in
the cabin below.
•I tohl no one on 'oard who he was— it
would have liecn fstal— they wculd have
given him up at once. The captain was a
friend of mine, and an easy, gioduatured
old cove, and kept him, and doctored him,
and took caie of him, and when we r. .ithed
Melbourne he was marly as well as ever.
But he was an altered man — a score of years
could not have changed him as he changed
during that voyage. It was not that his
qi.een, you never nw any one in your life
half as handsome as ly)rd Uory.'
Mignonnette shrugged her shoulders with
a k ory Freuc i gesture of impa'.itut distlnin.
' Handsome I Ah, bah t \N hat have men
U) do with beauty ? Let them be brave,
and strong, and clever— and what d.*8 a
fctraiKht nose ami a pair of bright eyes mat-
ter? I never knew a really liRiidMome man
yet who was not a born idiot, or else tynin-
niral and Hellish, and cruel ns Nero 1 Don't
talk to nic <it (lumlHome men — I've seen the
aniniaW. atid despise th' m Your Lord
Roi y was no better than the res*. I dare say. '
' All, but befiging your piiidon. he waj.
mam'selle. He was nuitheran idio' nor a
tyrant. As 1 said, he changed out of all
kiinwleiige on the passage out. He iiad
grown siill as death ; he >»<eiiied stuii/ied.
dazed like, by the kno« ledge of his coosiii •
i>uilt. They h.i<l l)eeii friends from IxiyinHid,
and Lord Rory loved him lik.- a Inothcr.
And now he knew that Gerald Denmond lind
always hated him, and had lillttl lis hand
iigaiiiJ^t his life.
' He never told mo what passed between
them that morn-ng ard— though I'm not
a coward, malll'^e le, there are some things I
dare not do— I ticvt-r dated nsk Kory any
questions about that day, and ha ne\ er t<d<l
liie. Only when, a fortnijcht after our
landing in Molbouri'C. 1 wm.tAid to >tay be-
hind the Dancing D'Tvish, .in.l r-niain with
him, he refused point-blank to hear of it.^
' 'Nonsense, Mike, dear old boy !" he
said, Willi one of his old lookc ; " you snail
commit no such folly. You shall go to Rio
Janeiro in the ship, and I will remain where
I am for news from home, a d you will find
me here, safe and sound, when you com"
back.'
« Well, mam'selle, thr. end of the matter
was that he had his way, and I went It
W.1S hard to part, but — liut there a»e more
hard things in tliev»o/-hl than anything ebo,
I went out to Rio, and s. me other parts.and
it was two years l>efore the Dane ng
Dervi-'h got hn^'M to Melbourne acain.
• \Yhen wc got back he was gone. There
was a letter t.ji a>^ dated «ix nuniths bi-lore
I have never parted with it since. H<ro
it is I'ow — a good deal smeared and torn, but
mavlie you can make it out '
The sick ma.i drew from his neck a little
silk bag, and /rom the bag th(! dingy re-
mains of (he ietter. It wa« foiled and torn,
and the ink was faded ; but the b 11, clear
charac^e'S were still perfct^fly distinct.
•Radi'-for yourself, mam'selie.' Mikft
Mnldoon idd. ' It's the first and last I ever
had from him. I kuo^» no more than the
-> — g _l..» K<.>..>n<> nf T^>rd Rratr ' TKm «irl
0^
T.ADY KVK•.^•V.
look it ; the fnilint? li((ht wr« dim, bnt witii
the fiiHt ulaiioe at the,writiiiK the recoiitil
M though Hhe iiad 8t( ii a ghi.i?. With an
(!Xcl.. Illation of anui7,en)»-iit. of coiisteniatiuu,
■he tore it open and roud lapi lly :
• DEAn Oli> MiKR : When yon r honest
eyes »ct ths I Hlmll hiive left M»'li)Oiirne
forever. I have had news ficiu Iielaiul —
news tliiit you, too, have heard, doiilitlew,
loiHjere now. My fiither ip dead ; he reifins
in the old man's stoad, and slie is his wife.
My trust in man and woman han cea8c<l for-
ever. I do not tell yon whither I p — 1
hiirdly know inyHclf, and it matter* little.
(Jo(t blcHb you, "iny brave old Miko, aiid
gooddiy 1
* 1 will never return to the old land. I
am ft felon and an outcist, as you know,an<i
<-an claim no li-jjal i ij^lits. I hiinUy tlink I
should tiv to. it I could. Let the fiiend I
trusted, the w<im m I love.l. be happy if
they can. and enjoy tlifir new honours in
peace. Tm-v svdlni-ver be distutlx-d hyme.
1 have disiardcd the old name with tiie rest,
i-ndl sinn myself by the new one, under
wiiich 1 begin a new life.
RODERT DkUMMONIi.'
As B^e read the last word— the name— a
low, wailing cry br /uo from the pale lips of
MigiioMuette. the black eyis "ere dialated,
the dark fai e white and wild. ' Kobcrt
Drummond,' she repeated— ' Robert Pium-
mond I Aud 1 know ail- at last, at lattt 1'
CHAPTER II.
miononettb'8 secret.
The sick man half raised himself on his
elbow, and stared at her. The face of the
little actress, in the luminouj dusk of the
■it very spring eveninjj.was whiti; as his own,
her black eves dilated, and blankly staling
at the faded and crumpled note, she held.
'What is it, Main'selle Mij;n<.iiiiette ?'
Mike Muldoon asked suspiciously, 'Did
you ever meet T.«rd Rodnriu Desmond ?'
Mienonnette. looked *t him, aroused from
her startled trance, and broke into a laugh —
a Inujih that wivs stranpely different from the
silvery girlish lauchter he had often heard
from those prcttv lips. 'Did I ever know
Lord Ro<lerio Desmond ? You dear, old,
simple lellow, where should I — Minette, the
actress— ever meet a live lord? Oh, no; I
never knew your Lord Roderic — your hand-
some paragon of porfrction — but I did ouee
knnw s RalM>rt DrumuiOndL*
'Mam'selle !'
•Tller^ th«r«l oaay, my brothw,' Dont
jump so, you'll do yourself mischief. Yes,
I oiico knew a Robert Drummond i very
handsome iiihu, too, mv gootl Mike, but no*
in the least like your brave, your magnani-
mous, your heroic Lord Rory. Come ! I'll
tell yo'i all about him. One pretty story
deserves another.'
."ihc » it down by the bedside again, the
deeiieiiing dusk hiding her fac! and its ex-
pit-ssioii entirely from the anxious eyis of
the Hick man. ' Nearly eightjen years xko,
\liko— the time corresponds, you see — only
another odd coincidence, of course— there
came to Toronto a young gentleman who
called himself Robert Drummond. 1 say
ffentlenni , because this hands'jme Ruberi,
Drummond, I have heard say, looked more
like an exiled prince than an every-day
Cliristian, and teacher of English and
mathematics in the "Toronto Commercial
and Classical Academy '—which he <va^.
' He spoke like a courtier and bowed li!>b
a kin/, and carried himself with a grave and
lofty gr.ice, that was the awe ami ad-
mit at on of all who knew him. Where he
came from, what his past history might have
been, were dcaii secrets.
' lie was the most silent and reticent of
men, and no one dared qnestion the haughty
straii;," r, who I oked with such a proud,
grand Kcigmair glance upon all who came
near him. They set him down for an Eng-
lis!. mail ; but oven that w:i8 only siippos..
tioii. Well, this hand, oine andhaiig'ity eaclier
of English and matlitniatics boaided in tnc
house of a Toronto meciianic — a poor man, a
Frenchman named Chattauncy, because, 1
suppose, he was too poor to board at a hotel,
M. Clialeaun. V hail one dinigliter— Ijeautitul
as all the angels, so I have heard — just
seventeen — my age now, Mike — impulsive,
impassioned, headstrong, wayward— ail tlmt
there is of the reckless and wild, if you wili.
She saw this beautiful Ea^dish prince every
day, and she fell in love with him— as these
passionate, fiery natures will love— madly.
Aud he— he looked at her with great, blue,
weary eyes — eye?^ that saw her heauty, and
never thought of It any more than if it had
been wax or wood. * That drovf her to
desperation, and she— it w as a mad and un-
womanly thing to do, my ^Tood Mike— she
»oon changed all that ; she ii^le him look at
her ; she made him know how fiercely she
loved him. She was as a little leopard ; if
she lo^it him, she should die ! Monsieur
Robert Drummond listened to the frantio
girl before him in pale umaise. He was
grave and startled lor a moment, then he
broke into a faint, strange sort of laugh.
■ •' W^hat does li lualU;! 7 ' iJ« oai<l. " I
might M well, aud site's iiMlly Titry pretty I
iiicliittf. Yea,
»oinl I very
like, but not
our inagiiani-
. Coiijo : I'll
pretty story
I ngain, th*
! and its ex-
ious eyiB of
en years j-^a,
you Hee — only
coiirRo — there
ntlonun who
mou<l. 1 s:>y .
B'jine Robfi i
looked more
»n every-dar
EnKlish and
9 Commercial
lih he \\a>.
1 bowed liUe
h a grave and
,we and ad-
u. Where he
:y might have
d reticent of
1 tiie haughty
ucli a proud,
%\\ who came
I for an Eng-
oiily supposi-
ng '^.V eacliur
aitii'd ui tne
a poor man, a
!y, because, 1
trd :it a hotel,
ter — lieautiful
heard — just
e — imp'.il.-.ive,
b'ani— ail that
(i, if you wili.
1 prince every
him — as t he-he
luve— madly.
h great, blue,
r heauty, and
Chan if it had
Irov • her to
, mad and uu-
d Mike — she
de him look at
w fiercely she
le leopard ; if
ie 1 Monsieur
o the frantio
xM. He WHS
uient, then he
i of kuglu
f wry pinUf I
LADY KVi-XYN.
69
, M'lle Cha-
white and
and became
Thanks, my beauty, this is an unexpected
honour ; but if it will make you happy, why
— 1 dare say I mignt as well marry as not.
Only 1 warn you I'm a poor man, and'likely
to remain bo all my life. If that be no
drawback, why— I am very much at your
servis-e f" A Mtranxe wooing wa* it not,
Mike? AikI thrt-o weeks aft'-r,
teauney, lookiug l)eantiful, in
ora'igH flowers, went to church
Madame ttobert Drnmmond,
* It wa.i an odd marriaKc — it should have
been a happy one, sinoo she had the desire
of her heart, and be was too much of an aris-
tocrafcever to be anythini; but courteous and
kin<l. He was too courteous ; lie did not
care for h'l — no, not, one straw ; and tossing
in hi* die:tin« at ni^'iit, he called upon an-
other name — a woman's name — not hers.
And over his heart, sleeping and waking, he
carried a woman's picture — a face far more
lovely than her own ; tor this jealous wife
looked at it while he slept, and her love
turned to liitterneHs and hate. He was
colder to her than ice. Kven when their
child was born, he just tflanued at it with
those weary indifTerent eyes, then away and
out into that unknown world he had left be-
hind him. Tiie iuftensate picture in his
breast was dearer to him than wife and
child.
'.She grew reckless after that — bitter des-
perate. I told you there was wild blood in
ner. Before he l.ad ever met her, she had
run away from homo and joined a troupe of
■trolling players, who took lier for lierl>eMiity
and her voice ; for she saiia — oh. Heaven y I
Her father went after her and brought her
back, and her hu.sband never knew. When
her refrklessiiess reached its height — when
his coldness, hi) insulting indifTeience, could
no lf)nger be borne — when he had driven
her ma<l with j-alousy, she took her child,
one day, and fled far irom him— far from
home — a desperate wanderer, resolved rather <
to die tiian ever to look upon his stony face |
again. She did not die. S'le went on tho j
stage ouce more. She was not much of an
actress, but she was so handsome, and sang
•oaweetly, that mana;j;er8 .accepted her, and
paid her a pittance, upon whiih they
lived — she and iier child. And when years
went by, and the little one grew up, Hhe
went on the stage also, and mother and
daughter wandered over the world ',ogethor.
Many years after, when the daughter was
nearly sixteen, they camo back to Toronto".
The unloved wife came back to die ; her
beart had broken. She was a won-out,aged
iroman, with white hair, at thirty-tiire.-.
*She was dying of a terrible pulmonary
llMMe — and dying, the old love came back
same
and she longe<l with unutterable longing U
•ee her husband once mure, to hear hi* voice,
to teel his kiss upon her dving lips. She had
never heard of liiin from the hou'- she had
left h ni ; he had never searrlteil for I er.
very likely. What did he care for her oi
her child — wnether they lived or died ' She
went back to Toronto to find lier father and
mother dead years before, aii<i lier hus-
band gone, no one knew wliither. imm id),
ately alter their death. That blow killed
her. Three days after, she died in her
dangliter's arms.'
The soft, low, French-accented voice of
Mignounette pauRcd su'ldenly. With the
last words she arose to go.
' It 8 time I was at tfie theatre, Mike,'
she said, in a totally different tone, pulling
, out a tiny watch. ' S e how w waste time
telling stories I I must leave you lo-nifht,
and I wish you a gooil night's re»t. Tumor-
row, early, I will be b.ick to write a lett«r
to your mother in Ireland.'
'But, niain't<elte,' the wiuk patient gasped,
eagerly, ' for heaven's nake stay a iiKnnent I
W IS your Robert Drummoud Lord Roderio
Desmoml ?'
The little actress laughed — the
strince laugh as before her story.
I ' He wasn't mine, Mike. I'li be sorry to
: own hiin I And he wasn't your L 'rd Ro<l.
erie, of course. The Rolicrt Druninionil of
my story was a ciM-blooded ingrate villain,
whom I hate — uliom 1— hate !" slowly, and
, with clemhed teeth; 'while vour'yoiiiig
lord was a sort of Irish arch uigi-l. He
would never break a loving wif.'s heart by
coldness, and cruelty, and neglect, would
be?'
'No,* said Mike Mnldoon, resolutely,
' he would not I But from all you've said
I'll be hanged if I don't think think tlie fault
was the woman's ir in fir-st to las! ' Sh«
was no belter than «lic ought to be— that'*
my opinion, niam'sell", b'j;giMgyinirpar<ln-\
if she was any friend of yom^. She mtt*!.-!
bini mnvpy her, whether he would or no, ana
I'd see ;iny woman at the dickens before
they'd do that with me. She didn't nnn be-
forelian.i, so she had no right to raise the
deuce about it after. Aiwl so yon say he
was always civil and ^iud to her, and still
she ran away from lum, with'mt rhyme or
reason? Oh, bedad » Miss Minette, your
Mrs. Druinmond was a fool— no more nor
less !'
Mignonnette's dark face flushed with an-
gry impatience, and her bLock eyes flashed.
.Still she laugheil — a trifle bitterly.
•0!i, of course 1 Trust ,4 man U- •itupftiti
woman ? You are all alike — hearts of stone.
The best of you can't understaud lu — hardlv
70
LADY KVKLYW.
to be wondered at, perhaps, when the beet
vt III oani't undentaiid ojrMlrei. But,
Mike -'
' Ye-, mam'silo. '
' I waut to ask yon a question. I feel in*
terenteil in your ill-fated Lord Roderic. You
told it(<i lie wa 1 ail earl's »oii ?'
' Hit only «un, niain'eelle— tli« carl of
Clontaif !'
'The earl in dead, I HiippoaeT'
' Yt an ago, little qoeeu— dtad of a broken
heart.'
• Yes 1 and if thii Lord K •derio had his
rinht, lio would i* eat I of Cloiit "■ i- "'
• lie woulil, mani'selle.
and the Hh;iinc that lie't- '"~'
'Well, suppose he - . -scj » ■ Had
married, aiul had a daiij.iiter— ahe would
bear a title, mid Im ii"-! -tented at court in
t am and iliauionilB, uiul have the beat in
the kiiit'd. ni at lu-r feet?'
'She would, niani'-elle. There ian't older
or belle, blood in th'i tlir-e kiu^'doms than
tiie L)e«infiniU of Clontarf. And she would
be a beauty, too— L<jrd Rory'a daught*-
coiihl not he p it.'
Mignoiiiutle laughed again — that laii;,;li
whicli louniti .1 BO strangely to hint at Mike
fr ini her I pn 1
•No dot! a? Well, his cousin, you say,
holds the tite and estates ? This wicked
Gerald Desiiond — is that how you called
him?--ii "arl of Clontarf to-davT'
'H«iH.'
' And has he a dauphter?'
'Aye, tiiat ho has, and a wonderful
beauty, I've heard s.ny, too. He ii.other,
th y ;e!l me, \fi\a tl.iit hefore hei . She must
have lieen, or, Lo U Koiy would never have
loved heraa he ili<!
'And her name — was her name Inez,
Mike?'
' Mani'velle I'actain the sick man started
op in niiize, 'are ;. u a witch? I never
told you her name !'
'Did'nt you? Pcrhujs I am a witch !
At least I know it, yon see. And your
Lord Kii-y 1(. veil her like that? Now, if
she hail ioved him one titi o as dearly as iiiy
Mrs. Druniniond loved her husluir/l, ^lie
never would have wedded this false cousin.
'You're right, niain^lle— no more she
would. But it's alwa;. ihe wa^ with
women — on with the ne . and ijS with
the old, at a inonitiit's warniiip.'
• My jfood Mike,' Mignoiiuette said, with
a Tieuch shrnj,', 'ain't you a li**'e severe?
I tliiiik it is jiiat the other -ay -but that
5- -- .— -,<:,... o— l».-.» <wn...) >».ll
is :::! -^'{rer: '|ttc'* t.-jr. --•— - •-■* — -^..
me the n-imo of Lord Contarf's daughter.'
*Slie ia the Lady Evelyn Desmond.'
' Kvelyii ! Ah !'
She uttered the name like a cry— recoil
tn^'. Oiiee mur*- Mike looked at her ii
wonder,
• Sure, then, you'd puzzle a Ph ' id -Iphii
lawyer tonicht, niam'»elle. Upon my con
icii-iice. I T)elieve y'U know more what
I've been telling you than I know myaelf.
If you do — '
' Niinaensp, Mike I I know n"Hiin|?-
nothing, I 1 11 you ! Never mind mo— th«
moon is at the full, that is nil. It affect*
half-idiots, you know, and I'm one. I yrow
more of a litlie fo<d every .kiy. (Jood-
nigiit, Mike plcasaut rest. IM write the
letter to-in< rruw.'
Anl, with these wordn, alio flitted away
out of the waid.
Miguounette passed out of the pate of the
ho-^pitnl into the gaa-lit city sireeU. Up
in the azine, the sprin^' staia slmne. Many
neoplo were .broml. As she r.ewred her
ilesiiiiation, a gentlem.in in a loose, ligiit
overcoat, slowly sauntered up, wit i acinar
, ••ai'ght t. full view of her faco
u.nler the g al pht. He rtopp'd at once.
' Mij^iioiHiette I you here, and attliishoui-
and -xloiie ? Surely I am the del-tor of lOiiu
fortinia e accident.'
Mii/iv)iinette glanced up, never ha'tintr
for a 81 coiid, in her rapid walk, at the hand
8. nie face and tall, gallant fij;iire. ' No
accident in the world. M. Trevaimance. I
merely overstayed my time at the hospital,
ami 1 don't in the least »ie how it can con-
cern you, or,' miniicking his courtly tone,
make you the debtor of aouu most happy
accident I'
' Bv giving me the privilege of escorting
yi)U to the theatre — yourpr'seut destination
V course. D.) me the honour to accept my
arm, mademoiselle. At ttii- our it ia
<liiite out of the question ^ou should be
abroad .aline.'
' Ymir solicitous, fntlipfly care ia quite
thrown away. Monsieur 'J'revannance And
I won I take your arm, thank you ! 1 c.
get along very w. '! without it.'
' You will p I t me, at least, to a* com-
pany you .vs far " theatre do.jr? It ia
my destination, also.'
' I beg } pardon— don't tell stories I
^^ u were going in entirely the opposite lii-
! tion when i met you. /.i d — it you will
nse my s viiig so, monsieur — I prefer to
be alone.'
'^titwhy? Y^ou areas hard to gnii ao
interview with as Queen Victoria — liar ler.
Jove ;
,.., , ,1. V!:!!
Koh-i-lloo:.
• . C T
old
duenna of
yonrs
livtntf
-.>i:ly a gren' dea mor*
pr«!
JOB.
LADY EVELYN.
71
n.
I cry — recoil
ed »t her ii
Phil\'l»"lphii
poll my COD
r more wliiM
now myself
w n'lMiing —
iuil nic— th»
I. It aff<-ct»
line. I jn"<<i»
l:iy. (idml.
.1 write the
flitted Away
e pate of the
Birci't*. Uj-
mite. Many
r.eared Iht
loime, ligiit
wit 1 a ciRar
w of her faco
d at once,
il at this lionr
»l<lor of .-.otiu
lever Iia'tinc
at the hand
figure. * No
vaiinance. I
:he liospitaU
it can con-
L'Oiirtly tone,
most happy
of escorting
it destination
to accept my
our it ia
I ithould be
are is quite
inanco And
iTOU I i out
it, to accom-
doir? It i*
tell stories J
opposite lii-
— it you will
— I prefer to
d to gnii an
oria — liar ler,
ina of yonrs
iari>ri> a living
•- — -- ■ -*-=»
dea uior*
' Ai if I '^id not know that— to my emit
Madeiiioieelle, you are eruul. I owe my
life to your care, and vet yon only save it
to raider it suprumely miserable. Yoo
know I adore you.'
But the Kriinimel nonchalance of his ton
never nlter>-d as he said it, and the ^izy
hniiilsoiiK' lia^-1 eyes, looking down nix)i.
her, biifiiod with no very )>as^ionate ariloiir.
Yet, at thii slow, lazy words, the dovvnw.trd
gleams of his bro<vii eyes, the blood fliishud
rnil in t'le dark tnce of th'i Red Queuii,
despite her every Ifort. She cantriit her
hru:tth, and bit her rosy nnder-lip flrrcely,
as she stopped short, all at ooce, and faced
him,
' M. Trevannanco, in yonr country— in
Loiidi) I — it may be itie correct thini; to im-
pt'rtiiirntiv follow an actress, whether she
will or no, nnd insult her in the pablio
stn-ets. But tliis is another conntiy, and
even aristocrats like you are amenable to
the law. Yonder stantis a polic<>man —
follow me another step, aud I will give yuu
iu charkre.'
Hor fiery black ryes flashed np at him
with a paisMionand a rage he aould not uii-
dcr^tand. Her little hands lAider her shawl
were clenched. He stepped back at once,
reinovinK his hat.
' I bp){ yonr pardon I it will not l>« ne-
cessjirv Bf-lieve me, I had no ten-
tion of insulting you. Goofl-evemu^,, ma-
demoiselle.'
He bowed to her with conrtly grace, and
tnrnr-d away, his handsome face quite iin-
pert! 1-1 lable. * By (Jeorp;e I' hu said to him-
self, leisurely reli<;hting his cigar, ' what a
little leopirde-is it is ! I a<1mire hr pluck.
I adm:re her — ye-", consulerably more than
the affianced of Lady Kvelyii Dfismond has
anyri);htto. Ah, well I we'll change all
^liat. Mv Inly is ij"l so deeply iu love with
le, or i «'ith her, but that such trifles may
b*' overlooked.' He saui.tered on. his slow,
gt ful »' .Ik in striking contradistinction
, • bust;eal>out him.
Ao'l Mi oniiettf, with eyes afire, and
Jieeki ', hiir! fd on twice an fast as
Itefore. 'uh, hah, bah 1' she 6aid to
herself, ti.i I. Wont a little fool you
frow ! You on- to be strangled— you.
hate him, witli hiss slow, drawling voice,
bii white hands, his indolent, languid
glances, an I his insolent words — yes, in-
«i)leiit, in spite of h>3 courteous tone and
tiegant politeness, I hate hi"i and one
day I shall have the pl>^asiuti o telling
Uirii
reMCiitru Xttv
k)ie play that night was i^Ueridan
Kii'Hvlpa' ' T..>vfi Chaae, ' with the Ijoan of
s Lover :' M'il« Miiaett* was . a botlt tMauti-
fal, bright, bewitching. She needed b«
rongn tonight ; h«-r dusky cheeks burned
bright red, her voice rang, her blauk «y«
fl.islie'l fire ; ht>r laui(h wns as clear aud
swKet ,((« silver Itell, And who was to
'%no%\ that under nil that brig'itness and
«auty. the heart Iwnenth the veh«t bodice
ijeai with a <lull, bitter p tin ?
Altove her, in one of th<* loxes, the centra
of a ^ay group of ric hly-dresse I ladies, sat
her handsome suitor of the «tri-(<t. She
•aw him there al'no<<t without lookini;, am)
when l)OU(]ueta shouered upon htM- in .t lloral
delui;e, it waa his hand \t Inch llnii^' that
exquisite cluster of lialf-bloMn rui-i'*. Hha
MS •■■ them full. She looked straight at h m,
anil, settine her gay little boot npon tlifiii,
ground on' Itefore his eyes all their liemty
and bloom The next instant the ( ' taio
fell, and the pet of the auilitnce was .,<>ne.
' Why ilid she do that, Mr. TrevanuancoT'
one bright young beauty asked t)ii> gentle-
man iK'side her, over Ikt white uioulder.
• She trampled your flowers under her feet*
' Where nhe trample I his heart long aRO,'
lauglu'il the lipauty 8 brother, * Kh, Tro-
vauiinnce < \'>e all fall like corn before the
reaper under the black eyes of the Red
QNeeu.'
The gentleman questioned laugh'^d nllebt-
ly, but did not otherwine aiisMvr ; an the
little beauty buside hiin discreetly a.Hked no
more. She was too well satisfied as he drew
her arn< through his. and led her v ith
tendcrest care, as though she were the only
little l>eauty in tlie wo Id, through f e well-
dressed throng. Tiiey drove to a grand I -'11,
and the pretty American heiiesn waltzei aer
heart entirily away in his encircling arms.
But the flr.-hing black eyi-s of Minette, the
actrt-ss, haunted him strangely — aye, to ^''9
exclu^ion of the pioud, calm, violet eyes of
Ccerlfcss Evelyn be:<mond. And while the
rill ant hours sped on, strung to sweetest
music in those elegant rooms ablaze with
gaslight and the glitt<;r of laces, and jewels
and fair faces, where Vivian Trevaniian^
waltzed, an ' looked handsome as your
diHam of aOi .k god, Minette, the ictress,
sat in her v ,m alone, bv tneopen vindow,
looking at the bright f>pring stars golden in
the mellow purple of the midnight sky. The
brilliant dark eyes had lost t ,. ir fire ; they
were very dim and misty witli aiward ; nin,
Tne flushed cheeks were strata v cold aud
pale.
•To think what .u.rl what I might
be!' she thought .trri'. An actress,
«i*i»» — iu «*ri"b drtii^tii'.;: \Ui iic (tare
look at me — speak to lO' ue does, if he
knew all ? J.*.ly Evelyu iDesmoud •' Sh**
npeat«dth« mine slowly. 'A beautifn
■is I
Kit
72
LADY VRLYN.
and high Hounding name;* >ii I *in Minatte,^
the HCt'-t'»8. I» hTio hi« Kvelyii. I wonder?'
She lifted from lo tHiilu licHiile lier k l»cket,
■et with j»>rns, up< nnl it, ami jjazci! Iij the
•t«4 h'jjht on the pictiiietl fuce. A lovely
and iiiiiiglity patrician fiu:«-— fur more pitfi^ct
than her own. On the reven»e, in jjoiden,
((littrriiiL' Iwtters. waa tlio name, ' Lvilyn.'
Aa HUiid'iil na ahe had taken it up ahe
closed it 1).''*'". n'"' nu"S: it from her. ' Wiio
can wonder tliat lie in blind to every otlter
face alter that? And yut, in 1 icph and
tnwel>< F wouhl be fair, too Ah, llolicrt
}ru!)iiiioii<1. 1 linve a lunu and liitior icure
toMiile witli yun, if wo tiver mueti'
CHAPTER IIL
COLOKKL DBtrMUOWr>
The strpflt lampa were just lit in the
idvery, inmnious "luxk of a July evenii g. A
tend'.'r, youn^ ticUli ino )n ^Icunud in the
violet arch, with one or two trcniuloiia at:>ra
•hitiinR bexiile it, and the soft aprni^; wind
cooled tho an ♦rin(>><a of what had hi n tho
heit of a mid immer liay. And n-izina
with liatleita. die my eyeHHt all tli<! tranquil
beauty abovf, at all the stir and bii-'l" of
'iie atree bolow. Viviiin Treviinnancu ait at
hia hoti'l i-handifi-window, and omoked hia
cigar — Vivian Trevaimuic", \»ii>had iinvcr
gone 'up till Nile and down the Ni'^'T,'
with hi(s Viennese frit-nil ; who had cliun^^ed
his mind itt the last moment, as he had nn
old trick of doing, mid come to Ann ica in
■toad. 'Lion hunting and j:\ckal-siiooting
m.iy be very lively amuseii iit« Gumming
and those other fellows say so, ' he aaid, in
hia nonch.-xlant way : ' but I think it's oven
livelier out on thp Plains. 1 II take a trip
to Colorado, ioHtead of Central Africa, and
■ee as good game as lions kiiooked over.' A
mouth liit'jr, he was on tlm Pl.iins with a
huntiug party, ri,:.-ht in the heart of the
Indian dcpredationa, and if over he
came near being excited and moved
out of his constitutional indolena^
It was to aea how bra\ ely the
little Viands of government troops fou(;ht
against the wily and desperate Indian!*. ' By
Jove I its glorious 1' he ciicd his eyes kind-
ling with a warrior's fire. ' I almost wish I
had Vieen born an Amnrienn, that I, too,
might join in this excitincr frnv. I suppose
man popvesses, in common with the inferior
animaW. the blood-thirist, or I never wunld
feel the t»inptation to join these dasliine
- -.1 . .i I— -_ T 1- •
cav:ury ru aLrt/iigij irs i t:t).
Trovau ance was nearer being 'cursed
with the curse of an accomplished prayer'
than he dreain<<d '^f. Riding aloue one day
tliroutfh the glowing wtwls, he manaK^d to
lo^e hinmelf completely, nor could any ellort
of hia find the right paMi. There was neither
mortal m r habitation in view and he was
nu-ikin:,' up I i» mind, as tho ever ing closed
alMMit him, that he was deslinul to fpeiid
the night in the wood*, « hen, nioui ting a
hilloc'^, I'c behehl in the plum l.elov, a iliiel
to tho death going ■ n. A bau'l of United
.'States eavftlrv « ere eniiruled bv thriee their
nu I er of Indiana,«nd wr'- liifUting a* men
only finht for their lives, clu.eied on by one
at their head, whose sword ideitmid, and
fl/uhed, ai d fell Jke ti.e s ^ord ot the Lioii.
Hearted ainog Siladin uid hia Sar*' 'iv.
'Irevannancu looked but once then, with a
miuhty shout and levelled revolver, he was
down like n m liirlwind, and elm rged with
the wcakc' side. It was a bloody and Lifter
contest. Tue little sohlier band f.aigl t w ith
r-eklesa desperation, cheered on by th«ii'
ioi'ler, » stalwart, na mfic nt-looking man,
win a> l""g. '"''■ ''""■ »•"""""' '" ♦' '"
M iiid. and whose l.Ino eyes gleamed with tha
fiery war-light Side by side with this
leader, Tievaiuianco fonjiht— fouiiht like a
very fury. Twice hii h irses was shot under
him— twice ho »pr.iim upon the haek-* of
other*, whose riders had fallen in tl e mrlee.
Victory hiinK donbiful lonj;, but aa night
ok) oil it ruUered to the banner of the fair-
hailed officer, and the Indian land, rout'.l
.•hhIkI nghl-red, fled helter-skelter into ll.o
woodlanil. and were lost in the deepcnit s
night. The ofHcer mi^rht have lorne a
charmed life, for while bnlle'a wlii/zed like
hail ubont him. be had come through the
filiarp on'eal nnseafhed. Half his litt'o
band lay dead around him, and ai he turned
toapaic to hi» nnhwked for and unknown
vouuli er, Tre* 'nnance reeled .iud fell from
bis saddle like a log
• • • * • •
The sunlicht of many days after was flood
ing the hospital wards with itt amber
glitter, when conscii usnrss relum-
ed to Trevannance. He opened his
eyes, and they fell upon a young, dark,
girlisih face — a veiy pretty face— iM-nding
compassicmately, upon hin>.
he a.sk<d, faintly. 'Where
has happened ?'
•Nothing very nnnsnal, monsieur,' an-
swered his piqusnt-lookiiig nurse. ' Vnu
had rather a aiiarp skirmish, got « bullet
through the lungs, and have been onto!
your mind for some time — that is all. Mera
r.craiv::''~, U!tj::-ict:: — 1!-_--.:::: ^ tv - r--- :-r.xt
the poor fe lows with you eot Tli -j ttU
I me you fonght well. Very gooti if you, to»
' be-aure — au Englishm .n and alvurtat, too.'
'What is It ?'
am 17 What
LADY BVKLVN.
73
'Ah, I iratanibcr, ' TievAooance tuid,
(aintlr. ' Aud the officer who (cugbt m
travtiy — wli«re it h* V
' Duii't kuow,' Mid Mignonn«tt«. * Hare
not liekrd — not hit iiAtne, nvfi' iilchongh h«
may b« in tha oit}*, for lia had you brouvht
hrro. Now, you are not lo talk. Talk'a
•xhausting, and you'ru one of my patienta,
•nd I 111 ri npuiifiilila for yuu. lit. ui.iy drop
ill thiouKb tho day to tee you, if Le La in St.
Li'iii'*. '
Which he did — a tall and '")ldicry.Io«jkiiig
p«raoiiai;t!, who mmouiiced iiiniBtdf aa Ciip-
tain Di'>.tiiin(>ii(t, .ml wuo heartily tliaukrd
Travaiuiaiicti fur liia tiiiialy aucoour in the
fi^iit.. ' It wax a cloH<' tiiiug, ' he laid. ' Yon
«.iiiie iu thti iii k of tiuie. I wiah we had
yuu for goo<l, Mr. 'I'ru van nance ; but tiiat ia
not to be honed for. Wo are in St. Louis
nuw, you kn )w. Will you ri.niaia here, or
do you ^ rtioiilarly wish to be removed to
your botci 7 X rather fear thara ia uo choice
however. '
'I will remain,' Truvannanoe anawered.
' My very pretty lit. le nurau tells me my
Wouada are 'mere acratcliea, ' aud nUe iutemla
to be "reaiiouailile" for nie. An there ia
nutliing lialt ao (<<>od-loolaii({ at the South-
era Hutel, I will atay in any caae where
I am.'
Captain Dru.nmond laughud. ' So your
nurse ia yuunx aud pretty, ia abe? Very
nnwise in the pu\sera that be I luatc-ad of
aliayiuK feveia, young and piutly iiuraea
will :;reAt« them. I am not lucky enotigh
to know anything (loin x^xperience. My
time has always been spent iu cuinp and iu
the field, nut in huspiul I'
'And you call that unlucky ? By Jove I
I envy you. What a gloriously exciting
lifu Youra must be. Are you bullet- |n<>ot.
Captain Di ummond ? or have you hidden
armour uuder your blue and br.iB8, that you
pasa through tliose hail-atunna of bullets uu-
•cathiid I'
Capttun Drummond laugh d again. ' Thfy
«ay ao, at least. My luck hitherto has be."ii
marvellous — that ot my whole company, m
fact The call ui, yon know, the " Devil's
Own" — BUKgestive, eh? Well, I am more
than thankful that your gallant conduct in
that fight did not cost yon even dearer than
it has. Bad enouft' , of course ; but, 'pon
niy life, I thought the Indians had finished
you fcr good. I shouldn't leave St. Louis
now with a clear conscience if I didn't kuva
yon in such safe hnnds. '
' Von leave, then V said Trerannance,
officer who had fought ao aplendidly. !ind
who looked at hiui with tach frank, ganial
•ya
' Immediately. Tha " Devil ' Own " «r«
nevir .10 Imppyss when ii. 6 Id ami fray.
They liki- fighting, I believe, for fi>{htiug'a
sake. There's a littla of the tig»T in the
beat of us once we sine I blooil. Farewell,
Mr. Trerannanc- 1 I may return to St.
Louis apin bffure vnu have. Meantime,
don't fall iu love with yi.nr | retty nuri^e.'
The two men parted with real regret,
slight AS their nif|n«intaii( c had botn. Cap-
tain biiimiuind Went West tohii om u< usiy
nami-d rogiuient, and Trevannnnce remained
under the absolute government of Mile.
Mi«iioiinette. iu the greater peril of the two,
far and awny.
As the days strung thcmselve* into weeks,
he lingered still, convalescent, to be-sura,
but not at all hnxious to leave His bright
liJ.;le nurse read for hnn, and talked to him,
and sang for him, if tht^ fancy to. A her, and
nursed him with tendtrest tan , and— lost
her heart incontinently. Trevannance left
the hospital quite resored, and went back
to his old quarters. He dul not leave the
city. It w:i8 very pb-asant there, uid
Migiioniiette was the bewitching little actrasa
of the Leasou.
And the winter went by, and the six
months' probatiun was at an end, and atiU
the betrothed of Lady Evelyn D mohd
lingered in thoie pleasant pastures. Why,
he could hardly have told yon himself. He
felt infinitely content there, and the pruud,
serene face of his i«autiful brideelcct ^ery
rarely troubled bis dreams. 80, on thia
spring nitfht when he should have l>een at
her feet, implorinjf her to fix tluii wedding
niiy. he sat at his window in tlie Southern
Hotel, and smoked hia chei-oot, and saw
Mignonnette'H bi>{, black, dashing eyes ath-
wart the drifting wreathe of smoke. There
was the diccreet tap of a waiter at the rtoor.
' A g-ntleman inquiring for you, sir— an
officer— Colonel Drnnimoud, of the— th.'
' Drummond— at last I Liifht the
William, and ahow him up at ouoe.'
The servant obeyed. Five minntea later,
and there entered with the anmistikal.le
cnvalry swing, C donel Druminoad, of the
' Devil's Own.^ The two men Rneped hands
with ns ordial a preosne as though th y had
been old fnrntis. Some mesmerio sympathy
bound them in w.irm liking at onoe.
' At last . Trevannance repeated. • My
dear colonel, I am delighted to meet yon
again 1 So tluy have given you two or three
»^tcps since 1 aaw yon last? Well, no man
i^^i^r acsorvc'i is, i! iUe giuwiiiK accounts
the newspapers give your exploits Iw half
true. And you have been dangeronely
wouudcd, too' Your cLaiined life loft you
8M.
74
LADY EVELYN.
for once. You look scarcely fit to be abroad
He w« a very tall, very fair inai). thm
Colonel Dnimmond. with cliestnut hair, and
beard ami moustiiclie of tntvny RoUl.
Thf face at wl.icli Trevannnnce looked,
thin .ind bloodless from recent dlncM. was,
with all his pallor, singularly handsome, and
the hliie eyes were large and beautiful as a
woman's.
' I have but jimt snivcd.' he said, seating
himself bv the ojM-n window. 'On the in-
valid list yet. it uiIIh; «cek8, months,
they tell nip, hefi re I am fit for duty ajrain.
That is thewiistiif it. 1 confess it was
some licpe "f lii'dii'K i'""' ^'' '■" •*^''* *'"*' '"'
duced m- to retnrii ti< St. Louis, and yet I
y\n» sutniiKcd wheji 1 f' uid my lupe realiz-
ed. Ha*« our . harmini; little hospital nuise
snv'linf to do with it ?'
Ho smiled as he a^ked the qnfstion, and
the smile lit up his frank, fair face with rare
liL'ht and beauty. Sniih » were not very
fnqiieitt visitors there. The Rcneial ex-
pip-gi.nof that hands(nie cointenan e wbs
a L'lave weariness, a worn, tired look. Those
nzurt; eyes, that flashed with a soldier's fire
B brichtly in Uie lieat of the fray, had a
hapt'nrd niislinet^s alwi'ys in repose.
' Weil, 1 iion't I -now.' Trcvaiinance made
answer, win. ing a little at the honie-thrnst ;
* perhaps she ha*. 1 should have been in
Enclnn<' three weeks ago, that is certain.
However, all delays must end now— I leave
by the next Kteiiiiier. My father-inlaw
cleot has had a s roke of paralysis, and lies
danuerously ill. I can't cny his lordship has
a particularly deep hold upon my affecti' n»,
bill I suppose, ill common decency, a fellow
^ho1llll he on the spot.'
' Ti- console the fair betrothed, moat cer-
tvnly. So you are to be conpratulated ?
Tiie lailv is a compatrii t, of coui-se ?' ^
. Yeo— no— th it is— 'pon my hfe. I don t
know whether she is <r not. An I ruh fa-
il or and a Castihan mother— Castile for a
Mrtl place. What do you think of that?'
Cohnel nrnniiii.nd was enpaged in lijjht-
ine a ei)j;ar. 11. • cease 1 the oecup.ntion
svuhleidy, and looked his companion full in
the face. - ..,. .u ••
• An Irish father and n Castihan mother !
l,c repeated, slowly : ' rather an unusual
combination, is it not? Miglitoiie nbk the
lady's name ?'
' Oh. certaiiilv. Lady Evelyn Desmond-
otherwise, poetically, "La Rose dc Cas-
Colonel Dnimmond turne.l slowly anay,
and nuietlv ai"' deliberately lit Ins cigar.
• I have heaid that name before,' he said ;
' rend it. 1 fancy, in the Mornine I'ost
Only daughter, is she not, of the Earl of
Clontarf f'
Trevannance nodded, looking ont ol th«
window. In the char light below he aaw
Minn<>ite, the actress, pass, at the momen^
With the old French-womsn, who lived wiih
h(rand 'played propriety.'
' And so you are to inairy her ?' the Amer-
ican officer slowly said, puffing at his Ha-
vana ; ' she i* rarely lovely, of a^urse T I
saw a full account of her presentation at
Court, a year aero— her lieauty, her diamonds,
took fully half a column ot the Morning
I»( st to themselves. And you are the for-
tunate man ! Permit me to congratulate
von, Mr. Trevannon<e. She is a great
heiress ns well as a great beauty, ic she
not ? What a w-mrlerfuMy lucky fellow you
are !'
• Why, yes. I am rather fortunate. Best
blood of Ireland and Spain— perfect beauty,
perfect gi ace, and as vou say, heiress of »
noble fortune. The Desmonds were poor as
church mice until the Spanish alliance filled
their coffers with doubloons. Yes, iha
chosen of my Lady Evelyn should coiisidor
hiniselt a most fortunate man.'
Coloiel Di ummond removeil his cigar, aod
looked thoughtfully at his companion.
' He ohould. but Mr. Tievai. nance doe«
not. Yoa are not particularly ecstatic over
it ; though, to be ecstatic over anything, ia
dead against al' the creeds of your order.
Your I^ird of Clontarf isoue of the cleverest
peers of the r«alm.' , , „
•So he is. Fearfully and wonderlulljr
versed in politics— power the dream of his
life—iimbiti' n his yod ! And yet, he might
have wedded his daughter to a duke, and
' Vou are a favourite of hia, it would
seem ? '
' Well, no ; not that, cither. He and the
governor are a modern miodle-aged Damon
and Pythias, ami deeply imbued with the
notion of uniting the houses of Desmon' and
Trevannance. And, like dutiful children,
my lady and I bowed and yielded at once.
" HoiM.ur thy father." etc. We are very
deeply in love with euch other, of course,
in a jiontlemanly and lady like sort of way.
niuinmotd,' talking an easier position in
his arm-chair, ' suppose you ?onio to Eng-
l.-ind next week and br present at the nup-
tials ? It's rather a trial of nerve, they say,
that sort of thing. H.ave you ever attempt-
' Have I ever ntt. mpted it ♦ Marriage,
lio youiiicrinT i*. rn, yrr :
* Then, in comioon sympathy with a fel-
low martyr, vou wdl accompany me, and
■ee safely" through the ordeal T Serioualv.
LADY EVELYN.
7f
»iy dear fellow, I wiih yon wonld. I don't
want to part coinpanv ao aoon, and I aliould
Very tnncli like to prebent you to the Lady
Evelyn Trevannance that is to l>e.'
A faint flush came over the face of the
eavalr. otiiucr. His blue eyps glowed for
ft mtKneiit, then tlie ii^lit f&did aud left him
Tery p.»le.
* 'Ihuiiks I It vonld be a pleasure, no
donbt; but, no I My «ork ii here,* aud
bere I stay,'
' And yet — pardon nie 1 — England is your
home — your biitli-p.ace?'
' You think so ? No, yon mistake ; I am
no Eiiuhshman.'
' You are no American, then,
« hrttever your nationality. However,
] won't be impertinently inqi'isi-
tun, and I cm only deeply regret your re-
f iia.il. Ami now —apropos of nothing— I am
due at the theatre tonight, Mignonii tto
playa " f,^i Reine Ronge. " Will yon o 'me ?
Very well worth s.-eing, I assure you.'
Drnmniond looked for a mon)ent at
though nhout to refuse ; hut, with the
gtMitl« temper that was habitual to the
man, he arose with a certain weariness.
' If is so lony since I iiave l>een pr. gent at
ftii\ thing ot the sort, that I fear 1 will fail
to appreciate even your favourite actresa.
However, as w.ll there aa elsewhere: ao
lead on. I follow.'
They left tlie hotel together, and saunter-
ed through the shimniciing dusk to the
th»;atr«\ The American officer was very
frave and silent ; the Engiisiwnan talked
ii.^rnidly ; but, he, too, was not esp cially
bii iiant.
He waa thinking how soon 'La Reiiie
R^ni^e ' wou'd he a dream of the pa>t, and
the flaahinj black orbs of the actress exchang-
ed for tlie prout!, nerene eyes of the eail's
daiii/hter — thinking it, too, with sometliiiig
nigh akin to n pmg of regret.
Tlie iiiiitjie kvaM crowded ; it always woa
wli.'M Li Mignonnette played. The two
made their way to the Englishman's invari-
aliie box. as thu curtain tell < if Mie aecond
•c-ne.-
It was in the third the pet of the play-
goe?-8, appeared, an! as she hour-led lightly
before them, a iittle Amazon queen, en Zou-
aif, in Mcarlet cap and Turkish trousers, the
Mack eyes afire, the ■■■ •••eks hriirht with
rouge or colour, the rosv lips dimpled with
kiiiilitii, a perfect storm of applause resound-
ed through the place.
Shu was -o boauMful, so sparkling, so piqn-
Ani, atu'i itiie |>iit^uii no v^cU, iii tier auiiiw:'.<iiia
dresM. and with liei sancy glances, she was
tbcir idol of the hour 1
* What do you think of her ?' Trevaunance
aaked his companion, carelemlr ; ' bewitch-
ing, eh ? Too young, and pretty, and clevej-,
I think, for the life she has chosen.'
There was no reply. Surprised a Ittle, he
gl.inced around. Colonel Drummoiid nat
like a man turned to stone — petrifieil with
some unutterable amazt — staring aghast at
the brilliant little soldici-jueen. There w»«
an absolute hoiror in hia pallid face and di-
lated eyes.
* My dear fellow t For heaven's aaket
what 18 it ? Have you seen tiie Gorgon'e
he d, that you sit there, turning to stone ?
But Druminoiid neve.- answered ; that
thrall cf horror or amaze held him fast.
Trevannance took hi'm by the arm
' Wake up, Druminond 1 What the mie-
chief ails you ?'
The cavalry officer turned his eyes slowly
from the sparkling vision, ablaze in the gas*
light, and looked at his interrogator.
'My God!' he sai.l, in a huolied, hoftrt*
voice, 'it iit Minette Chateauney I'
' Chateauney ?' Trevannance repeated.
' So that is her name, is it, at last? We all
know her as Minette, but until now her
other name was a mystery So she ia a
Canadienne, after all? 1 might have been
sure of it, with those loner, almond-shaped
bl.nck eyes.'
But Drunimond never heard him. HU
gaze had gone bac> to the audacious little
aniazon queen, so brilliant and no bright be-
fore him.
' It ninat be the child !* he said, in the
same huHhe.l voice. 'But, great heavena t
how like her mother !'
'Oh-hc!' exclaimed Trevannance: 'so
you knew her mother, my fiieml? Now for
Minette's History, at last ! Really, thia
grows interesting— n»}8teri(jii8 as a sensation-
al novel ! And you knew the mother of pretty
M inette ? Make a clean breast of the whole
thing, dear boy !'
' Knew her mother ?' Drnminot -' « i ated.
blankly. 'Yes. Good heaven! .alike
seeing ii gliOHt I She is the living image of
Minettti Chateauney, as I R.aw her first,
eighteen years aeo. My poor Minette I"
repeated Vivian Trevannance, glancing at
him with his i. dolent eyes. 'Ami this ia
poor Minctte'ii child 1 Ni-w, whr, the deuce.
Colonel Drummond, waa La Reiuc Rouse'h
father?' "
•Trevannance!' exclaimed the soldier,
paying no Ik d to a word he uttered ; • do
you know her? Can I see her? I must see
her, and to-night !'
' Quite iinpoHHibie, my dear sir — not to 1>e
thought of ! Miirnonnette wonhlii't grant
an audience to the J']inp.'ror of all the Rcu-
aias, after ten at night. '
'1
7«
LADY KVKI>YN.
I tell you,
•Then I will send her a note.
I must, and at once 1' , ,. ,
• Uo, l)y all means, if you find it the alich*-
est r.dief. It will suive to light the manager's
cifiar ! H« has orders to burn, un-
opened, all letters left for Mignonnette be-
hind the scenes. You see, my dear fellow,
I know from painful experience.'
Drummond looked at him earnestly. He
was stranjrely and deeply moveil out of the
stern calm th t had Rro^n second nature
from long habit. Even now the momentary
excitement w.is passing off, and the outward
quietude returning.
' I regret that— uo— I do not— I am glad
she is so discreet— I can see lier to-morrow,
1 suppose ; luul to-morrow wdl do. Mean-
time. Mr.T revanuaiice, will you tell lae .ill
vou know of ' — he glanced at his bill — ' La
Vlinett.?'
' Undoubtedly— th:\t all being very little.
She is La Minette ; she is oi French ex-
traction— Canadi.an French, of course ; she
is a charming actress ; she is only seventeen
years old, anil ns t'ood as s'le i» pretty. She
hasantdd Frenchwoman living with her,
going whitluTsoever she goes — a Madame
Michuud—a very dragon ot propriety and all
the v-rlues. I have never heard a breath
against the character <>f the little queen.
She has no lovcru — wid not listen to a word,
tliough her adoiers are legion. Her charities
are numberless. She gives with both hands,
and the sick in the hospitals here look upon
her as an aii<<el of li.ylit. So she is— to them.
That is the hi- 1 'ry of Mignouiiefte. '
' Thank you !' Coloml Drummond an-
BWered, ill a suppressed voice ; and under
his beard tne keen e.\r bes de him heard a
fervenc 'Thank Ood '.'
•And now, v)oii colonel,' Trevannance
askeit, cc.ollv, 'one good turn deserves
anoihe. T have given yiu Miiutte'H history
— mad*" your a('qiiaiutrtnoe with all .ii>per-
taining to her I know. Now, my dear fellow,
what is she to von?'
The blue eyes turned full and grave upon
him. The > altii voice answered, slowly and
quietly : 'She is my daun/hter I'
CHAPTER, IV.
TATHKR AND LOVEB.
Little Miiiette, with a w!iolesrim« horror
of hotels and boardiiig-liou^es for such he-
witchimi fairies a- herself, had a tiny bijou
of a furnished cottage in one of the q'-.ictest
.*..„2;ts lif the eitv. A httle doll-!>oo*^;
■nowy white, with a f>crap of garden in front,
two lilac biislies its onlv vegetation, a mimic
pailour, and diuing-room, aad kitchen, aud
chaniWrs Here, with Madame MichauJ,
, her 'sheep-dog,' a maid-of -all woi.. of the
■ most diuiiuutive proportions, to niatch the
: e-italilishineiit, her canaries, her big Cana
d an wolf-hound, Loup, her books <ind her
piano, Miiiette dwelt -n her fairy chateau
and entertained her friends. Tin y were n i
many- the little actressiiia<l«few intim cic .
One or two of her female theatrical acquaint-
ances, t^e manager, a few of her couvale.-*-
cent hospital patients, her dressmak^-r, her
music teacher- these were tlie chief.
There were very many callers, very many
cards left — dashing young geutleincn drove
up to tho litth- front door by the dozen ;
but Madame Midland's shrewd, brown, mtt-
cracker face, always imperturbably good-
humoured, barred the en; ranee, and
madaiiKi's cherry French voic«^ jnptd to thcbo
gay LotharioB ever but one refrain —
• Mam'selle is not at home, monsieur !'
Mr. Vivian Trevannance couhl have told
you all about it— lie had been there.you Sei,
more than once or twice, or two dozen limea;
but mademoiselle was never at honi^,
alt' ough her laughing, roguith face could
be seiii sparkling behind the kice curtaiii:^
In a low rocker, in lur toy puilour, she 1 y
back now, the biiglit morning sunlit^lit
stre.-vmiiig in betwci u the curtains on the
delicate caipet ; her piotty, soft curls, so
black, so silky, pushed from her temples;
the nioi ning paper lying iilly on her lap. It
was a cozv little room, wit'.i its profus.on ut
books .in<l binls, and flowers &nd pictures.
' Loup liy crouched at her feet, looking up.
witli bi.', loving eyes, at the lace of hia
nii.itress.
A fine .and costly piano half filled the
room. Minette practised assiduou.-ly ; she
played brilliantly and sang di liphtiully ;
music was with her a passion. It was still
not ten ; but Minette had been out. and, in
her street dress of black silk, a white band
and knot of rose ribbon at her throat, si.a
looked as much like a little n n as the da&l.
ing Zouave Queen of last night
' Is it true,' she was musing, with a very
thoughtful brow, 'or but a ruiiiuui, tiiat he
goes next tireek ? He was in his usual phi j«
last night, but lie threw nie no flowers. I
wish — I wish — I wi.'ih I had never ;een iii«
[ace ! How happy I u-sud to bo ! And now
— ah, bah !— and now i in a little f.iol 1'
She opened In r paper impatiently, g'anc id
over its items, and was arro ttd iu five
minutes by one of brief paraginph :
' The many friends of Mr. Vivian Tic-
vftnniii.oe will rei^'ret his ^iitedy duparluia
for his native land. Ho leaves uexti
Thursday in the Columbia.' That wa* :iiL
' The paper dropped in MiuetU'b lap, and *Ua
LADY EVELYN.
•at. .taring blankly at the flrelesa. old-
faahoned grate. It was true, then-ho was
really Koing-Ko,„g to her-yoing to hi.
bnde and hu bnd»l I She sat fur nearly an
hour quite 8t.ll. a l.ttle paler thau her wont
bnt otherwise un.n,r.,d. Then, drawing
on her watch and seoin^ the hour, she ro ef
w.th a loiig. .h.ver.ng breath, a.id rang the
Madame Micbaud. with her brown ever-
imihiig face, appeared.
' Mademoiselle rang ♦'
' Ve» niadamo. If Monsieur Trevannance
Td-ShLT'^^'^^'^-^^-'^''^ "S"y^
She turned away, opened her piano, and.
•itting down, played braveiy and brill a„ti;
for nearly another hour. Suddenly, thioujjh
the storm o melody, she heard U e tiS
ling of the door bell *
77
" at'^l'lat r '^ "'*'''' *'*'' ''°°*''"*" ^°"« ^'"^^^
The parloar-door opened. It wa, Madame
it IS not A^r. Trevannance, my dear— it
W a grand t«ll gontleman, pale and hand-
.ome. and nul.tary and dUingue. He has
never been here before, and ho bade me give
Must! Mignounette arose, stately
from the p.aao-' must I Give ma'the card.^
turned white as death ; for the name w",
wdi : ^'■'""'""'»''' -"'d i" P^-ncil was
'I saw yon last night. You're Minette
Chaute«uney'8 daughter. You know wl^o
lam. For your dead mother', sake. I con-
jure you to tee me.' ' '"'° |
For her dead mother's sake ! Had .ome
mgnetic witchery told him that that was
the only adjuration she would not scorufu^y
refuse? She stood with the card in her i
hand, cold and white. '
.ai7mJ^'«*^'r".'^'''^ niy child. 'madame
•aid, puziiied by her chang dh face • • shall
1 go and send him away ♦' ' ' ■
Minett. looked up. Her h.art. that seemed '
Jh^lTol^?^'^ 'r*'"'« ^'''•»" '""tant. sent
the blood suddenly surging back to her face.
She reared her stately little httle bead ere^
her ip, compressed, htr eye. oniinously
•parkl.ng ,„d bright 'Ko. Show the
t«»it!emanin atonce.'
Ma.iame. considerably .nrprised, left th.
t^l^ t'; ^^'r'^'io^dl^y the window!
!„!!!"*j..'^.'^"" '.'*^ fi"Kers. haughty.,;
'-ii "* ■-•"•-"—-. r... jj.sirtui iater. and the
oifei-ed in the doorway, which he had to
' J^P ^'^ 'H'1«1 to pass, and father and daugh
tor stood fao.. to face for the fi: st time ?£.
was quite white .yith supprewed feeling-
she erect, superb, defiant. And it washer
clear,ringi„g voice that first si>.ke : '• Colo-
nel Drummond does .,.e an unexpected
uardly thought he wouhi care to see me '
^ You knew, then, who I was ?'
les.lv ''^'.r*' '»"TT"V '^''""ttosaid. care.
n^L\^rl f^P'"'^**''' 7^ t'">"Kl't that Colo,
nel Kobcrt Druinn.ond night be the Robert
l)rummond a-I.o drove his wife a.i.l child
Irom him seventfen years igo. That wa.
rather a dastardly act, although tht-y sav
Colonel Dr,..,imoud fights well. Hut 4v«iT
cal prowess is often a villain's virtue ''
'\ouknw mt-r he repeated. 'slowly
paving no heed to her stinging words. • Yoi
knew I w,«h«,e-you knew I wa. vyour
, father, and yet—' *
i Mignoin.ette broke into a laugh-a low
; bitter derisive laugh. ' What wouM nion-
; ..eur have ? Was I to go to you. to fling^y
, arms round your neck, to cry out. .s we ,lo
on the stage •' My lon^^dost fatb;r. behold
your child 1' So devoted a husbanrl. ,o
j tender a parent, surely deserved no less ' I
' S!.i!f'}r"f"j: "n«'-'-*t«l"l. have I not. M
!e Colone And y,,,. ve.y properly came
here to chide me f.,r my unfilial .iJe.pecT'
Myc.iikl. now bitter vou are. \Vaa it
your mother tnnght you this ♦'
f J?I^ '"•''*''"■ ■'' ^^'■"*'"'' ■^*'*'' h'^r mocking
face turning npon him. lluahed and p.-..ssioa^
are a demon. You dare to take her name on
your hps l-you. who broke her heart, who
drove her from you by your cruct^ and
neglect, who left her to beg. or s nrve ol-
die, as she chose, with her child. Yo,, tLZ
come face to face w.th that child, grown I
woman, and ask if her mother t^u^hl her to
. hate you ? My mc-ther wa. an angel whose
I only fall was when .he sto.p.d to^ove y^
She never taught me to hate you-no -del
•p.te her d.^p and deadly wronK^ .hl^
last. With her dying breath she forgave
you-as I rever sl.alll' The imn^nou!
vo,ce stoppe.1. choked by it. owirtVion
Pj^honew. hereye. flashing, her cheek, a!
Colonel Drun.moid. leaning lightly on the
back of an arm-chair, listened in rL,Jt*u!
chdr^'hf ' "i'' ^"^"* ">' reproJh^'fMv'
have abraveaadgenerou. hekrt. thev tell
me and t .e brave and generous \houid be
just If > our dead mother .tood here h,>i^
78
LAU> i-:\ KLYN.
.- «
■I
■R
me, 1 do not think she could sav I ever wil-
fqll'y wronged lier in word or deed in my
'No,' Minette ■;iid bitterly — 'oh, no, M.
le G)l'onel : You were too courteous a
gentleman, loo grand a seijriieur.to use brute
force to a woman. You only married her,
and broke her heart with your merciless cuM-
ncss. You were only chillingly disdainful,
and awuv up in tlie clouds above your bour-
geois bride or back with the Indy you
loved and left in your native land. \ oij
only drove her m.-xd with vain love and
jealousy, and when she left you— you let her
go 1'
'Minette,' bo said— ' my daughter!*
And lit the word, uttcn-d in that deep, melo-
dious voice, tiie girlV Uce fliislv d, and her
passional' heart throbbed. ' N\ ill von not ,
listen to me 1 Will von not try and helicve
me? As Hfuven hears and will jndgr me, I
nevcrknew your mo' iter was jeiilons; 1 never
(?ave her cause to be so. From the hour she
became my wife.Utrove my i)e-t to mike her
happy. If 1 failed— and I did fail, it sterns
-it was because ours was an ill-as!i..rted
umon— the mi' Klinjf of fire and ice. ^^hu»
siiefled from me -I pursued and strove to
find her, in vain. I continued the seanh
for months, and onlv pave it up when the
conviction fore d itself upon me that sli-
had died a suicide's death. I remaineil with
her parents whilst they lived, and for her
sake, was to them as a son. Y-u say she
was jealous. That was impossilile. 1 <lo
not think there was a woman in Toronto of
whom she could be jealous, that I knew,
even byname.'
'In Toronto!" Minette Baul acornfuny.
•Who said in Toronto? No, my Lord
Roderio Desmond ! She was jealous of no
woman in Toronto. Her rival was the—
Lady Inez !' At the sound of the name so
long unheard, the man beside her s'arted as
thonph t'>« 3'"""* of '''" '''""'' >'""'''^ '""' '''**"1
before him. His face, pale liefore, blanched
to a dead, startled white. The little actresi
taw and laughed aloud. ' 1 know, you
see I No w.ndor M. Drummond, the
teacher of English and Mathematics, looked
■o like an exiled prime. It came n.itiir.illy.
And I am the daught r of my lord Eirl of
Cloniarf 1 Fine antecedents for the little
American actress. No Lord Desmond-
Colonel Prummond— whichever you li«o—
my mother feared no rival in Toronto. Her
rival, who kept your heart from her, was
far away in another land. None the less
•urely, though, was the work done, and her
heart hrDkci!.* ..^ • , i
Colonel Drummond liftened in pV«
ftmaze But th-j oaini cf long habit naa
back when he spoke : ' How yon h-\rt
learned all this is a profound mystery to me.
How your mother could ever have heard the
namevou have uttered ia atill a greatet
mystery- Certainly it was not from my
lips But nil this is Inside the questmn.
The past is dead— lot it rest. Whatever I
have be en, I am now, and will ever be-
plain Robert Drummoii.l. I never was un-
kind oru: jnst, or unfaithfu;, to your deid
mother. 1 tried, U, the best of my ability,
to make her hr.ppy. Tf she had bee i a little
more pa.ient-waited a little lancer-all
would have been well. You would have
crown up to love me ns a child snouM love
its father. My daughter, I am a solitary, a
loi e'y man— you. a little waif, afloat in a
V ickod world. L t us bnry our dead pa«t :
let th future atone for all that is gone. Let
me claim you as my child-give you my
name and lionie. Already I love you ; you
will soon learn to h-ve me. .Miiictte— my
(lau-hter— come.' He opened his arms.
Stie''locked up in his face— glow. mi;, earnest,
noble, good. Her heart wet i out to hiiij
«itii a great bouud-her colour c.une vid
wcnt-a ii.iglitv struggle rent her. But the
fierce indomitable prideof the little fin-brand
held her kick. 'Come,' he ■<aid, the deep,
rich tones verv sweet—' come, my It'tle,
wandering child— my poor, little, nameless
darinij. Forgive and forget the past. V^oine
and brighten my hmely life. Come ! \ on.
at kast, shall never regret it. —He made a
step toward her. But she shrank away al-
most in atfright.
'No, no, no!' she cried, wd.lly ; ' not
yet I Ah, my God ! I swore to hate you
and I cannot— I cannot. Leave me, Colouel
Drummond! I will not go.'
He saw how excited she was— how she
trembled like a leaf with the pnssioiate
emotion within her— and he yielded at onoe.
'I will go. my child,' he said very, very
gently • ' I'ut tirst let me hear from your bps
that you do not think me altogether the > «s«
and unworthy wretch you have thought me.
Tell me this. Minef.e, and bid me coma
nffain~I cannot, I will not give up my
daughter." , ■« i j
siie looted r.p at him suddenly, and
stretched forth her hand, zreat tears, stand-
ing in her dark eyes. ' 1 do believe it. hor
the rest, I can promise nothinr:. Come oi
not as yoii like— .jnly leave me now.
'1 will come to norrow,' hu answered,
pressit.g the hand she gave him between
both -f his: 'uutd then, my child ndieu.
and God blesB vou. ' The donr closed behind
»>ini— and Minette flung herself on the sofa,
and buried her laciniiie P'«;"^^» ''f'"«
herself for tlie wuakuwi ahe felt-for tum-
>m m^» wHpn wi io ' Mg g u iN j i wwjw mi'j wui f ii n
LADY KVELYN.
yon h-xrt
;ery to me.
) heard th«
a greatar
from my
> question.
Vliatever I
ever be—
IT was un-
your (lend
my ability,
lee 1 a littla
Ifir.cfr — all
•oulil hnvs
siioiiM love
solitary, a
afloat ill a
(lend pant ;
gone. Lot
,e you my
! you ; you
iixtie — my
liis anna.
'IK, cnnirst,
Dtit to iiiin
;r c;'in« \ui
r. But th«
lie firi'lu-aiid
1, tiie deep,
my little.
If, naiiipless
past. Come
line ! Yon,
-He niado a
k awuy al-
iMlv: 'not
to liate you,
me, Culouel
IS — how elie
e pnssio'iata
dcd at once,
d very, very
■om your lips
tlicrtlie 1«8«
tliouglit tllH.
id ine coiiio
{ivre up my
iddenly, and
tears, stand-
i.ve It. For
ijr. Come oi
now.'
:iu answered,
him between
child, ndieu,
closed Ivel'iiid
It on the sofa,
liioWCl iliVliliil
[elt— for t)Uin>
iijg traitor to her dead mother at a lew
Pleadinj words from this man. And vet
how goojl, how Kreat, how noble he looked I
Minetta adored bravery— how true and
earnest hi. eye. were a. he spoke. And
that lost mother had Deen passionate nn.l
wayward, and rash an<l impnlsivc— what if
after an the fault had been her own. n„t
bu ? She would have him marry her ' she
thoajrht, • kuowmg well be did not love h^-r
Faas.onate r. proaches, sullen jealousie,;
wero not the means afterward to win that
love. And It might have come with time.
8he fled from him with his child. Ah
heaven, who is to teach me what is right?
I don t want to yield after all these years
»nd yet, if I see him again. I know I sli ill '
Mer musings were iiit.rrnptod by the sudden
entrance ofMadam Micliaud.
'I'ard.n, man. Wile I -Monsieur Trevan-
nance mat the door.' ^i«^an.
Minetle 8.it up. She pushed her tangled
curls away irom her temples, and with that
Oiime all the bitterness came back. She was
•n earl s daughter, an.i his equal by richt
and yet he came here to make love to th-
nttle actress-whose name he would no^
dare mention to the lady he had left beh.nt.
.n Eng and. At least he wonl.l Icar^ t, :
day whether she was to be insulted with
hJ^ull^-. ;'"/.** "P^'^'y -'•ect,ftndnll
the old light and fire came back to the black
eyes, rhe dusky face waa strangely pale 1
•nd Its pallor contraated with the fi.r; '
glitter of her eyes. 'Admit M. Trevan-
nance I' she aa d wiih . ...«,„.u *"'^*";
!,__ I J ' . " ■ superb wave of
i^L'f •" TP"""" «"'ndc«cending to
•dmlt to an au.lienoe her slave
Madame hastened away to do her biddinir
wondering to her«elf. • What is it with tifo
Red Queen,- .ho thought. • that she received
to-dav all who come ♦' •<.».civu«
Perhana M. Trcvannance wa. «OTeeahlv
.nrprisei alno-it wa, but the secmd ti'Z
aehad ever croswsd that threshold. T).d
.he know he wa. going away, that she wis
thus unusually gracious "■ ■ ■
•specially gracious a.
before her. The
I deeply
You will
unintentionally on my part) th«t
offended you the other evening
not U implacable, I trn.t, to me whose
only offence i.--admiring you t.^gVert ;,'
'As how did you offend?' mulemo.seUe
responde.1, with su,,rcmo carelessne*" ' J
have forgotten. Oh. by following me on'tha
bl'htV ^y/^?' ^ Trcvannaifce?- w I ,
I'ght I,ugh, 'what very unnccessarC t.-o bU
you have given yourself ! \Vhy I had or
SOtten the offence and the ortende? five
u'iththrJr' i^'" '-i'-' >M. in I ■; s
uith the old audnc.ous, provoking smile ha
knew so well, on the s.age and oH ,t T !
colour came aaain to the^rnn-ttc cheekL
She made a wonderfully pretty pictnr^
ymg careles-ly back i./he',- I J .iTlll'r
little, nnsed hands crossed on h.r I.m
Inun yon are to be envied, Mignonnetta.
You have nccompliohed what I neve, can.'
• Po, ,„ ', . '»- «'cl'i"g ber black brojr^
\Vu ■ 1 ? ''^ '"y ''■'«'"l» ''avc the litiht to
call mo by that name.' ^ "*
•Among whom I am not numbered ♦'
the list of my friend," "»n'»^erea m
•Insulted, mademoiselle?' Trevanni.n«-
repeat^ed 'You will par.lon me If J sav ?
an. utterly at a Jo.a to comprenend vo„ ^J
'3 not my habit to insult aiy woman mui
less the woman I— Io\e.' '^•'™*". much
• There it is again I' Minetts ..id in her
y™ lov. „. ,vu.. d„7or".;r.;t.:;
'Have made ,„„ „,„„ „.„, ,.__
tOK
Good-day M. Trevannance?' mademof.
wile, bru.qnely. • This i, an nnlooked for
honour, fo what do I ewe -t?' Ti.ev had
not spoken t ore since that memorable
evening on the street, when she had "hrea !
•nod to give h.m m charge. Her look and
!h"v hTfh °"*.^"'' *^'' ™°™ ^"f'l^i than
tnev had been tlien.
■ Mademo!>>e!!e. ' hr: z^-.A .-^
have come to beg your pardon.
me, you say ; I landied" -/"iTL./ "" "*'"
«et me treat'ii in ea S Let n^e ^k \ '""^
question. The ">an wholoUs a woL i^*"',?
"•a-ry her. Monsieur Trevanr.e^ ?"""'*
the l^dy Kve.y^:;it|f.n "e^^Ltt'^Tir
80
LADY KVKLVN.
He coloured in -pite of liimself, and for
...1 •« all Lis long tiHined and perfect ieli-
posseMion failetl to liiul a reply. .
-lam auHwered.'Bhe sni.l, very quietly.
• I ail) a l.ltle, frieudliBS, unprotected prl,
lorced to btarve, or .ara my Imng by the
one only means in n.y power ; therefore all
you high.lK>n,, highbred gentlenun have a
iertett right to ."suH mo .f you choose. I
!un pretty and y.-un«. and lawfui pr. y lo 1>e
hunted down, whetl.er I wi,'' or ""! ^sa
ereat lady once said to an LngUsh king, l
am too high to l>o your mistresH, and too
low to be your wife !" 'r*''" T'/", •"V;"'
M. Tievannance, and with it take this, hhe
croH«cd the room with the statvlj step and
ini.n of a young emp.eBS, and luted from
the Uble a chain and locket, and presented
them to him with a deep bow. ' When you
were brouglit int.. the hospital, monsieur,
Hm's fell from around your neck I took
charge of it. intending of course, to restore
it in a few .lays ; but b.fore I could do so
you had made n.e youi first declaration of ^
lovo I laughed at vou then-an I do n.-w,
o thatmatter-and kept , I. That lady. |
whose nan,e and picture are with n, is your !
nliL'htcd wiie-is ehe not. u.„usiour ?--and ,
voii uo to Knglai.d next wei k to wed her ? ■
Kd'vou thought thefl.ghtyltU- actress
without name, or lu me. or parents, or]
?r .,dE was ,1. love with your ha.idsomo
Lc, and woul.l only too gladly accept yoiir
left hand, wlnlst you honoured my I*uly
E.lvu with your right? That was your
„l>ke youM.:. Don't fret f.r me. mon-
B u lam altogethe,- heart-uhole where
yo are concerned.' She laug^ied saucily
i^^p in his face as she said it. 'Vennit me to
thank you for all the pretty bouquets and
te love you have no freely lavished upon
me ni.d to snv a pleasant voyace, aud-fiirc
we 1 !' Sbe made him a low. sweeping stage
courten-. Che pretty, piquant face all dimp-
ling w.ih laughing light, and waagoue from
the rwiu before he could speak.
CHAPTER V.
TH» LAi3T 8EKVICE OT THB ' BED QtTEI».
• It is not like the Red Queen to .1. lay, h«
thought. ' Something^ out of the common
has kept her this time.' ,_. ♦„
'Am I late, Mike?' a voice said close to
his ear. ' I didn't want to b« recognised on
the street, and I have been to J bu y to come
earlier. How ure you to-day, Mike .
'Doing well, tlu y s y.' Mike rtspome.!,
with a half groan; ' us if any one could do
well cooped up here ! Au.l the letter, mame-
' I haven't written the U tUr. There !*
as Mike turned his eyes in wiistiul /"rpris*
and reproach on tier face, ' no n««*l/o J"?*
like that. There was no occasion to wrue
it— I have done much better. I "aye-
found-now don't jump M.ke ; y«"'» 'i'*;
place the bandapcs-l have found Robert
brummond-your Robert Drummond 1
\ The man uttered a cry-his face bl.ochert.
[his eyes dilated.^ 'Miss Mtuettc ! for the
love of heaven — ' , , , t *«
• Now. nuw. now, Mike ! I told yon not to
excite yourself. Yes, vour Rooert Drum-
mond is alive and well- he wlio was once
Lord Roderio Desmond 1 I saw bim and
shook hands with him not three hours ago.
Why do vou stare ! What is there wonder-
ful in it? "You never heard he was dead, did
^°"no ; but-oh. man, .jelle !' with passion-
ate excitement ' for the love of God, tell
iall.
Who is he? Where is he? how
The afternoon sunlight brightened the
hospital wards, and the many .ymg m their
infinite ininery of pain aul fever watched it
4eaAw w.th their dulled, aching eve.
Ths man to who«» story the little actress
had listened the even ng before, gazed at the
golden ulory on th. *h,te wal'.s as he towed
w.tles«ly on h>s feverish couch. He was
■ =:>--• vi....,»f.. had not been
«;;!);" with the^etVersi;; 1.^:5 promised to
write for hin» long before.
me all. »* "^ '" '• .
came you to know him ? does he know 1 am
here • when shall I see him ? br>eak quick,
for heaven's love.' ,
Minetto laughed-her 3weet, sdvery, girl-
ish laugh. ' Talk about the impatience and
iirpetuosity of women, a"*! ''"*!"*" H""^- .„^
doU questions in a breath. Who is let
Why. Colonel Robert Drummond, to-be-
sue, the famous leader of the " Devi s
Own," vou Wc stupid Mike. Where ,« he?
Here in «t, L..uis. How came I to know
him* Well, you rrcollect the story 1 toW
' vou last night of Minette Chateauney an ,
Lr husband? He is that husba.,,1 Doe.
1 he know vou are here? Not yet, but he shall
' before this time to-morrow, if you can sur-
' Vive your frantic anxiety so long, fh^re. *
hope you are satisfied.' She turned as if to
■leave him. but the sick man grasped h«r
Qtess in an ag ny of exeitement.
• MiKiionuette. Little Qu«en ! don t go—
tell me more. Tell me whac u he to you ?
• I have told vou sufficient,' Mignonnette
answered, with sudden hauteur. ' I have
nothing more to say on i he subject, and v<«
will permit me to go. 1 liaveMreat d^l to
attend to this afternoon, and a« my J»tiente
to visit before i icve ir.e r.^.p:i.-.i. -r ;-
Bot sufficient tii»t vour idol live*, and *««
LADY EVKLYN.
e oommoB
I ctoM to
igniud on
y to con>«
•tapondot,
e could do
Let, mame-
Ther« !*
I Burpris*
ed to l(H)k
m to write
I liave-
you'll dii*-
ind Robert
Olid f
3 blanched,
e ! fur the
you not to
bert Drum-
10 wns onc^>
liim and
hours ago.
ere wonder-
u d«ad, did
ith passion -
of God, tell
( he? how
! know 1 am
Ipaak quick,
lilvery, girl-
patience and
[I to this. A
Vho is he?
lond, to-ho-
i,e "DcvU't
inhere i» he?
ne 1 to know
8t<'ry I told
.teauney »n .
ibaiiii. Doe»
, hut he shall
you can »ur-
ip. There, I
,urne<l as if to
grasped her
t.
1 ! don't go —
e he to you ?'
MitEUonnette
eur. • I have
)ifct, and yo«
i great deal to
V patients
b; witl.yoa to-morrow?' 8h« bent orer
bin with 'he last words; the passionate
^'M-hke ^..lel.ty and love in the m .n « f,,ca
;'".:"-' '-r- ' Ho is not worth iu^l de ■
.0... Mike-no man alive eve. was yet. Still
At the enrli. St possible hour on the en.u-
"'f'it^t;^"rr.' '^••"'"•»<"»d presented in .
».' f at the little cott.ge. There was an un-
usual hu.tlearoun.l the tiny house Z
front d.H,r .u,o,i «ide open,^ and a woman
Wiis wasninj, th. window.. A ht'lc ^r
' iL*m'selle Miuette ?' she repeated after
h.m. Law, sir, she's gone 1'
■(ione ! gone wliere?'
\vimti*t„„/^"""' '""r'*" thi- morning.
V^lmt« your uamo, please? She's left a
.no'nd/"'^*'' ^••"•"■"ond. Robert Drum-
'All rieht, sir.' cried the girl, brisk I v
' Ihe note'* ior vou sir \V,it» onskiy.
I'll f,.tr.|. i» ii .1 ,»^ ait a minute and
in- up/ ''"■ "'* ""'• ^^'■'■« »-«'«-"•
Slie darted Hway and was back imme.liate-
IL ,|^"i«"«',^"'«rt n,ummoud.'8l,ereul
yoTre'dr;';:^'^^- '^^'">— t^P-Vi^ili
opened the letter.* It was very buef;
CoLoxEL Drummond : I write wh.f r -
not tnut n.vselt to uay-t":; we'f.**/,^;
hiivo beenmibtikeuin the m«M \,. ■
«-teof you. but non^'L'-l^'aTltei
bound by my promise over my de.d mot! er
We are better apart ; w« ovve each 3 fJl
We nor duty^ L<,t us forget we ever met
Have no fear for me ; lean protect mv«'f
-y;.ungas I am and .lang./;,,, „, i^^^'i
.rofe.H.on. Do not foIlo^r o. sear, i, o r,^o^
iivou toind me to mono-.-, n .,,t w„.,n J
avail you? If the day ever oo.l'wh \ 'l
need your care or protection, l will ,«' }
•or you. Until then, leave me in p^I^" "
now a last favour; Go to-fj^^.D.f '
there lies a., old friend-Mike AluXn-
^vho, twenty year, .Hg„. saved your fe iTI
.^roi^o.rco.„iug..thebji.^^,S:
As G>lone! Dmmmond read the iaat words
he starteii up with a suppressed cry. mS
Mttlooon, aod after afi those years ! The
shuck ot surprise, for a moment, was strong I
er_ev«.^ than ^,e .h.Hsk of b.Tt.r c^. I
mpt,^,u.,„Ktt^ av Liic iitght of Minette
• It muat U aa site aava. ' he thonirbt • To
?^r»iv.„ "l*^ "^ to Change thi. d .. ni„g
^rgiveDesi, into anger and hate. And »ot-!
poor, h.nely chihl l-jt •eems a cruel am?
hearilcRs tiling to do'' "^'"' ■ <"^»«' and
th?horn,'I!!f** '•""•■• '"' r" •"•*'^'"« through
EhedV";/!:"? "'"''"--•' •-*'-'» -d
cnerisiie(l hi, memory as neither the kinsman
Mikol It was the old. familiar voiced
the music for whi-;., Mike M,, doon Ifad
th.rne.l ,1. vain many a wearf ye!" The
wounde. man rose up with a cry-a crv o«
irrepiessiblc joy. - »-'> a cry ol
' Lord Roiv i' be said hm «.u i «
lighting witli^cstat-y "''oh ''haTk o'od ^'
Colonel Drun.mond laid his hand over the
mans mouth, with his pc=ul.arly ' utU
n..|ancl,oIy smile. • Not Vl.at nanfe. M ke^-
1 h»ve done with it, now and forever! 1
a.nCoIou...l Drummond. if ypu [ffc^^l^j
Biow me if I will !' Mike responded with
^udden ferocity: 'you're the KaH ot Clou
. rf. an. no man on . «rth ban a rixht to that
title while yoM live. Why haven't you cob
years ngo, an i rom the coronet trZ ^h.i
perjured murderer's head ♦'
' Ea^ Mike— «,y . some one will bear
you. Mygoodf.ilow.you know I couhi
"Ot. The charge under which I lay wh.n
vet" ^tn?l f 7" '^r'"""' '•^'""'« "«^«"'t d
rights. •^*"'~' "^ *=^'° "» «ivU
• You can claim them, .ad you ar« ««
S"v;.u'i/""' "' '"'''' ^'^ •"- fieTou";
"«, you 11 give up evcrything-fii-htiiJ i" !:
an.oug the rest, though if/a larky ^li/H
allow-and you'll go ha k to the .KoinV
and you'll vindicate vour honour an,I .Ti ^'
your lost birthright, f " ""'"'"'^ »»'! claim
'l-Asiei-HHid th-n done. Twenty v^r.
«go they found me guilty, throu J, Se ^Sr
jiry of two scoundrels, of high ilo,,;. £
t e ch,r«e were as easily di.p^oved tlj'n «
"OH. It I xvent back to-mo.-row. wouM
they take n.v word for it I did not J!, a
Kathleen 0-Ne.d? Oh no, M ke', "d^S:
join r. .u.xa I ,lo„'t so much mind-w^ rf^
that eyt-.y day ; l.„t den-li at the hands 5
fu'ri^"^'"'! ,'•, "" '^ ? *^*^'"*'^«"t -natter N^'
tut I ^,o«Id 1,, tho urst Diamond of Clon-
SeCiTJSi^;;^^'^^^^'^-*^-^'^
*"!'^iu.^°^*''' *« England, Lord Rorv..„"
i c, — ■-'••••"^* ""u Uitv iie hoid'i from him.
■Show Jum to the worhl w he is-» Har .'
ooward. a ,,.n„r.r a„H an,u,.h'«,1. "' '
111
I
LADY EVELYN.
Tli« calm eyet of Colonel Drummond
l!a«lied with some of Mike'i own fiery
pHMion. liut liik voice, wIipii bespoke, held
its lial'itiml quiet. 'Yout;.lk »t riiiiiloin,
my >'Ooil fellow. Do yon tlmik I woiiUI le-
main a Men aii.t an exile in n foreign laml
if tlie power were mine to tlo m you say ? I
know (i raid D smoiul to l>e a pci juter nnd
» would l>e iuiird( rer. liUt I liave no power
to prove it. If I Iwd, no dread of detection
for nivself would hold niu l):icU.'
•Tlie way is'easv.' the sick nmn Raid, '
re', tiiuiitlv. 'Only find that sc<iundrol,
Morjj»n, "He knows evei> thing, and will
conft^s*.' !
•Will he?' doul>ttully. 'I am not bo]
«ure of that. If he still lives, he is ilouhtless
what he was twenty yeais ago— the slave
•nd tool of the other greater villain.
•No, sir— no, my |. id— there you are out,
Heis not Ihe tod nf C'lHld Desmon.l. He
■erved th.it centU m m's tlirty purpopes, and
when his wo k wivh d' ne, got kicked like a
drowned twenty year* ago, in Wicklnw
Buy,' with hia thoughtful smile; 'and if
they d , it will go hard with them to prov.>
it. W. uld you huve known menuain, Mike?'
•The wide world over. I>ord Roiy ! Ai-.d
you tiave not changed much— grown stouter
and brown, r ; l-ut, barrin-.' the beard, no-
thing to fi)' ak of. Oh. faix I I'd know youi
skin on a bush I' ......
Colonel Drummond half laughed aa he
I arose to co.
i • They will hardly »)e bo «harp-»ig' ted, h«
said. 'In that world they never remember
the al)8cnt long. I leave you now to return
, to-morrow. 1 shall depart for England in
I the Coluniliia next week.'
He nnittod the ho^<pital, and walked brisk-
ly to liiB hotel. As he sppioached he en-
ccunteied Trevaniiaiice, looking hurried >iiid
pale.
' Have vou heard ?'
Wlicil mn >T.. n ........ ... , „
dog out of th- way. He was sent lo ^or^olk
Island for fiftecp year* forson.e of his tricks,
and I i-* time was up a year or so ago. When
he returned, a hrokeii-down beggar, my
Lord Cloiitarl's alms were the liorse-wlup
and the horse pniid. I had a letter son.e
montiis ago troni home— from one Inn Mc-
Carty, an oM friend of mine that he p-* a
public house, and he told me Morgan w.is at
his place a week or so bctore he wrote. He
waa blind drunk, and sweaiing vengeance
acainK' (Jer Id Desniond. "I could lear lilin
down f' 111 his high estate if I choos'-," Hi ys
he " and 1 will.too - the liar and muidcrer!
I wish Lord Kory were r.Iive t"-<l '.V- ^^^"^J
■oon tell him who drowned Kathleen O Neal
—aye if they liiinfj me for it an hour after 1
I'd hang willingly, so tlmt they strung him
up too !" Tim and the rest.' Mike continued,
•ietallthi- down for drunken Idather: but
vou and 1 know Utter. Oo back, I^ord
Rory ; give everything up, find out Morgftn,
and make him turn queen's evidence. ) on 11
get your own. and (Jerald D«mond will get
^ hisnwn— a hempen baiter r ^, , ,
There was Jead sUence. The face of
Colonel Di-ummond had grown very pale
and trrave.
• You will go, Lord Rory?" Mike urged,
in an agony of suspense. . , , .„
•1 will goMike,' he said »lowly. '^on
are righ^. My honour must be viiidieated.if
there l>e any eartiily way. If what you B.ay
be true, and I do not noubt, it the
way is open at last. I will go. I will
find William Morgan, if he i.^ ab vo ground.
-„ji %..ri!!2 the truth from him. Tin y will
hardly reiOKuiie tiie sunburned American
colonel aa the beanllesa young lortiling.
the younger man ask-
ed, with suppressed excitement. ' Miguon-
uettc is gone !'
•Ahl'
♦ She left this morning. The cottage is m
charge of the owners. She and Madame
Ml. laud, and Loup, made their exoduK by
tho early train for New York. Last night
was the conclusion of her eiipagfmeut. She
refused every oiler to renew it. bade her
friends fan well, and has vanished. Do you
know anything of this, Colonel Drummond?'
asked Mr. Trevannaiice, with considerable
suspicion.
For answer. Colonel Drummond placed
the farewell note of the little actieas lu liia
hand.
' Knowing so much already, yon may aa
well read this. I saw her ycsU-rday, utged
her to quit the stage, ami permit me to oliield
her with a father's love and piotecticn.
That is her answer.'
Trevanuance read it with a very blank
face.
'Good heavens ! what a wilful, rcckleaa
sprite I And she must be obeyed. If wo
followed and found her to-morrow, as I
■uppose we could easily do, it would only
render her twice at defiant anil determined.
We must let her go— mad, disiird child !'
* We must !' repeated Colonel Drumniond,
eyeing his companion keenly. ' Pray, how
cornea the pronoun to be plural? H.ive
you any especial claim opou Minette, the
actress •'
M . "Trevannance looked rathtr disconcert-
ed, and the laugh with which he answered
Boniided somewhat forced. *0h, no! of
course not, beyond the ordinary claims of
strong intereat and friendly bking.^ She is
but » ciiiid ill yrriJo — a very ucwiteirtiig amt
anil precocious child. I grant you— and by
Wicklnw
; 'aiKl if
n to ]>ro*'f
in, Mike?'
ly ! Aii.l
I'll stouter
beard, no-
kiiuw yuui
ted u h«
ig' I ted, 'ha
ri'inuiiiber
I' to retinn
i!!liiglaiul in
keil l>risk-
leii lie en-
urried and
r man oak-
* Mi^juoD'-
:>ttnf;(> in m
I Ma<l:ime
cxoilim l>y
Lnnt night
nrtit. Sli«
, bade bcr
1. Do you
lumniond ?'
onsidurabls
tnd placed
itrets 111 his
on mnj aa
•di>y, uigcd
ne to 8hield
protection.
very blank
ul, rccklen
■ed. If w«
orrow, as I
would unly
[letormiiiea.
.1 uhihl !'
Druiiinioiid,
' Tray, h<iW
iral ? Hav«
dinette, th«
r disconcert-
e answered
Oh, 110 ! of
ry claims of
UIR.
LADY EVELYN.
far too prttty to be tossed, like « stray waif
apon the stormy «« „f bfe. A. d .he 'i
your daughter, o<.lo„el? Tod my lif. !«•!
•n ont-an-out romance !' ^ * "'
'A very matter-oJ-fact romance ' nnlnn.i
wil'.speak ,u.m;.e;r7;.,.^"KU^:
*ot ..n« for .t but to do a. she says. JJ^^ll
that the dflv may come wlioi, ,Lc will Jl ..1
or me. Moan while. I i.iteml toba Cr
f«llow.p«senK.r. next we. k. to England '
•My dear colonel. I «m deli«h,e^A.";.i,,
Trevannance. with unns.ml warmth 'I
thoiiKlityou couhlhanliy Ih, cruel .no„„|
to^foisak. a fnend in the great cri.i, of h*.
The colonel smiled. • Yor. r.^uke I
sympatlnze with yon. but I go on urgent
biisiness of my ow„_l „,j„e«i that w 1 nr '
dude a 1 p,«,il.ility of my VsitinR vou'7'""
No bu.in.M can be so urgent as to pre-
clu, e a week or twoof sojo.in. atRoynlK
An 1 1 want to lutrodure you to Lidy Evelyn
You wili like each other. I an. certain K
are a hero and she is a hero-uorsl.ipper. 1
ought to di-ead a rival, but my likinxTr yon
s Htronger than my ,lre„.l «,, ^"7^^';
fellow, bo Kfucions and come." "/««««•
Cidonel Drummond looked at him an in
.taut. ,n grave thought. • I( he knew my
niismon.' he thcught-' if he k„ew ,t *^„ ^
expose as a mur.lerer to the world the father
of 1„, pbghted wife-to Hfrip him of ti 1
and honoi-.and rank I But to see her-
Ine/j-once more- to confront l.im-to l«x)k
on t le daughter of Inez d'Alvare* I SbaU I
yield :in<l go? ouaii i
'Well.' Trerannanc* a«id. 'and what
means that gaze-face a. solemn asa ^,1^
VardMab? Are you debating XtS; you
.hall say ye. or no? Let me^lecKle_y.^
the pleaaanter word. Let it Iw yes '
•.\Vith all my heart.' Col. nel Drummond
rwponded. drawing. deep breath; 'letU U.
J»«|Uw.thU..ir white sail, flitting to and
Rose de Castile watche. it aa t .ho h.,1
"ever seen the .„«Ko down I "or; "B^t .
it8lK,,uly won't gather the shell. w.?..m.
r.ft«r w.i, it. Ernie? and '-crrawiL oT^
&. "•'.*'*"''• ^^-.i^eof asixpTre-'ff*
only thirty minutes until dinner.
.m^e. '^«<^-»'»« gl^cedover with •
for'ttiiTii:' n;eH::ra7n:f ^™'-
ing here.' ^' P'*'^*''" '^•''•
•To dream of my husband elect.' Udy
CI,,de«n.ore re.pondfd. with a ^y j^,,^
la..gl. : 'he will be here to-night for^ce tni^
"tn shells Imie is on the winir.' U.lv
Evelyn s face cloude.l perc. ptibly^it I^ ^
Cly.lsmore's words. \\|,«„ ',,,„ f, 'J ^^J
she drew tortl. h letter, receive , |,f 1 y
before, and read t over It «•.. i l^,
• London. '^nd .ig„ed y^innTr:^^::^
and U announced bi. speedy arrival at Ky^l
VvJ'"^ '"*'""* »'"«'"'.• wrote Ladv
Evelyn's lover-' an American othcer-bU
Ney. the -Bravest of the Bra,e.'' » v.;;
hem of romance, whose l.femms to li !{
nin .fter the fa«hi.,i of a three-vorml nov'e?
UmrrU.n.?""'"""*' ' >«« *'" "^e him.
8lie i.
yott — and by
CHAITER VX
TH« rvoET HIKIATtru.
♦I. 'V *'*" "I'T "P"" """"e*- P'-r off above
the Devon h.lU the rosy cloud, trooped «„!
down nere on the .bore, the sun w«, .h.'km^
into the sea in an oriflamme or^„ "touf
splendour. And half.;. ting. h.lU^u^Zl
aio..sy Unit with yellow w.ter-w^lowt
trailing over her. a girl sat watnhiig w^Tb
•na sky. Farther down on the .Lore ■ ood
a young and nrettv.but m,.n„ .„,». _!^ ! °?**
ing lady, holdiug-by u^ handrbtU. 'I^r' I
-f four or fcve. They, t^^,, ^.t„,.^'« ^^/^ f
She read the letter over very .low!* .n.l
all the rosy glow in sky or sea conld jiht
Does he love me ? Are we both playina »
part-and for what? I drend his com 1
ye., dread-when 1 should r ^1^ H,^
almnce wa. like a reprieve to a senien" 1
cr,m,nel--h.s coming ll.ing, n„iUi'X7 I
ror. It IS just to him to Ih cn.e hi, L fi
w th a heart that is cold a. sto ," .^"far «;
ove I. concerne<l ? Tluy have r- .1 « 1 .
icelierg. those other. rJ.fi t '"* ■""'
i^^^S-M^^^-^^'h-A;:?^,^
jfdi':'^e.{^:'ii:;'-^,t.^r-
twice « month.a. mother doe. pnpZn t\Z
with th« cold lormal.ty <f ntt.r ^ r^,' J L^'i
And vet. no-.I cannotbe quite wreffi t-
Ind'/^ullm!'^'' •"''*'- -'"-"'-^^^^^^^^^
She drew forth from f»,- . ..-* ., .
m.rtra,t of Roderi« Desmond, g ven l" b*
her mother, and which she hnd !.. o". "fan i
S4
LAOY KVKl.VV
for carrying abont with h»T. The fair, frank
beauty of tl»«- faca had a churiii tor her ; the
yioleteyea looked up at htr full of l>ovi»h
bri>;htneM ami lif' , tiie lips se-tned to
■mile, the colour* of the pictuie were fiean
«n<l HuUimocI, the lik«iiL«» a living one. _
' How noble ho look»-how Winitiful 1
•hetho.iuht. 'Ah, one coul.l love such a
man as thin! Ami they thought him a
mnidert'r— " ith tlial face !'
8oah»o'l>eil wa» «ho in htflay-dream,
that the muiid "f appmnchinK footsteps on
tlie v'lvpt awiii.l l)ehind never itmihe-i Iter
ear. Two gentlemen in evening drp«8,uuder
their light uprinx overc./ats. came down the
■loping hank towa 1 the strand
• Look yonder,' the elder of the two said,
pointing with his ntantiU.* : 'the "Sleeping
Beauty," is It ? Or perchance the lady of
whom you are in search. '
Tlie other looUe.l languidly. The evening
was Wiu-m, niid he was not prepared to
excite liiiiisell.
' If sh ^ wouhl only torn ronn<l. he mur-
mured, in hin sleepiest tone. * That •tatcly
poise of the head— that inantila—ah, yes, it
19 Laily K\el\n.'
• Wliat IS thftt ? A hnok? No, a portrait;
yours, no doubt, and she is absorbed over it.
Good Heiiveu,' under his breath, 'what a
lovelv l.ice 1' ..,._, , .,
' Yes, she is hefintiful.' Trevannances .aid,
plaeidly, 'nnd— hIio hears us at last.'
The crushing of a dry twig under his foot
reauhcd her ear. She glanced carelci-sly
over shoul ler— the noxt in«Uut she had
arisen, and the ininiiilure had fallen un-
heoiled at her feet.
Tlie ineetinc was very quiet— th re was no
•cenc Mr. Trevannance look boih her
ban.ls in his, and touched his lips liglitly
to ner white forehead. For her, she had
•rown very pale, the hr .• '.3 turned cold in
h 8 warm clasp— otbsfw!?* there wae no
•ign.
• They told ns yoi; •;&«
her lover was iniirra'it'i'ni.
lil)criy of foliowing. iviv
well? HavelsUrtled y
»• a spirit.'
•I am quite well.' she answered, p-wting
•lightly. 'A little startled— yes. I did
not know you had arrive<l.'
'A'lived early in the day. Would have
■eiit word, but wished to surprise you. 1
had thought to fiml you in London still.
• Papa's illness \n<luoed us to leave town.
Lord Clydesuiore infisted on our returning
here with our family. Yonder is Luly
Clydesmore and Ernest. How surprised^
•be wiit be at your unexpreted -f-r^-st"-""-
•Aj(ree»bly,I hope. Allow me to prownt
;;;;i.e to the ah ore,'
and we took the
sparest, are yr.u
1 ? You are pale
friend. Colonel Drummond.of the Unit-
t,i„ <s service. Colonel Drummoed, th
Lady Kvelyn Desmond.'
The American Colonel bowed low befor»
the sUtely beautv— the most pertec' he had
ever seen. And Lady Kv. lyn, with a proud
inclination, just glanced at him, and startid
in a sudden ■nrprim, and looked at hiii>
Bteadilv and long. Where had aha aeea
that hancUome lace, tvith iU deep-blue,
brilliant eyes, it* waving chestnut liair, and
^,>!<l.hrown beard, before T It wa» as familiar
as her own in the glaMB, and yet utterly
strange.
' \llow me.' Tlie voice o^ her plighteo
hns'.aiid broke the «pell. 'Y' a h« ^- dropped
tl,iR, I fancy.' He pickeu up t * ivory
miniature from the ground, where it lay in
some danger of being trampled on, and pre-
sented it tohiT.
Both gentlemen eaw the pictured face clie-
tinctly, and aaw that it waf not the fice of
her lover. A faint flush of surprise fljahed
over the pale bronr.e of Colonel Druminqnd'e
onmitenincH . i-'or Trevannance, he waa of
Talleyran.l's kind. If you had kicked him.
his face would not have shown it The lu-
atant after he bad given it to her h« started
forward to greet Lady ClydeHiiior'-, with
ratlior more eHusion, perhapa, tliau ne would
otherwise have shown.
' So the prodigal has returned ! her gay
little l.idvf^hipsnid. most cordally shaking
hands. 'We missed you horribly laslecu m,
Vivian. I missed you. In a txilnf a rlru»
tempi I don't know your equal ; you have
my step better than any one alive. And as
for private theatricals, you stand unrivalled.
Yes, we misled yon, didn't we, Evelyn
dearest? And if I was acquainted with anv
fatted calf in the neii;hbourhood, I shouhl
have him killed on the instant When did
you reach F'val Rest?
Trevannnace told her, lanchinglv. »nd
led her up to his friend, whom he pr. gented
in due form. Little Lad.^ Clydesmore, the
most eenial of ptereasca, frankly held out
her hand.
•So happy to meet you, colonel. Have
heard all alx>nt your exploits from Mr. Tre-
vannance'a lette.-s to I^jrd Clydesmore, and
welcome yon sincerely to England. I adore
America and the Americans. Yon must tell
me all abont tne country. Vivian. yon come
with ns. of course— with your friend— and
dine. Oh. no excuse ! I insist upon it !'
•Lady Clydesmore'e lightest wish is
equivalent to a command,' Trevannance
said, bowing low. ' My friend and I are
entirely at your difposni.'
' That'? &■ it slion'id be. And as yon
must have a thousand-and-oiie things to tmj
lALady
will lee.t
premise ■
•» our,
one remo
does lose
With
American
her little
airy small
merriest a
— a 0O<]ue|
fliitei) wit
often-taiiii
p<;ared. (
duty Ik>um
the nhilo
pui;-, Uct
thui utlier,
peoilfss — t
•eeii. It M
only more a
tho ' earth (
his youth <
lover once
tirHt Right ;'
h lu iied ou
He forgot
had gone, ai
into a faded
youth, of h
Viviau Tie
eyee, the pu
•to his dyin;
answered nn
and a little m
her present |
The lovers
lean ng ligl
whilst he spo
his regret at
nesa in mieti
last topic «he
paused. He
lace bcMide 1
defeat and j.
promiaed to ti
Was gone, E\
her. 'Mv d
word ?'
Her eyes f(
have striven ;
•ometimes, it i
you would hai
other time — ' a
He thought i
■harp, cruel tw
the jealousy of
man's wounded
■>|.lllt»(J tnn *' !
'You were the
LADY EVKLYN.
die
willlwlthe .vay. Only I \j,.. |e.Ve »„
•'. oar. .,,.1 Lor,! Cly..«,mor.(hl "h b
oo« remov., from .ui H„, \Z> wSv
With which mjr la.iy guily toi.k th.
•jry.inall ti.ik. walke.l awoy. 8h|. wa« the I
ni t«,| Hi»h the waii.l«nng Jew %d timt
duty .ou,.d.-.m.ied.uul reap<„..le,l ; ,?t al
puV^.'t*fTr ."«»"- '-y. diui*
|>U!,, fiiceof tile Viacom. tew he uw 1...J
peerl.«_tl,«lov.|,««t h. eve/ had ev"
•ee». Iiwo-Inez D Alvarez over a/am
only ,„orj..p„Uual. more beautil.,1. S of
tho 'ear h «nrthv.' nn.l the golden .U^ o
...youth ....hack, and he wa« her l^'p, °V
lover ODcc more. It wa. not 'love at
fcrntrngU;' it waa only the old love thit
rtelurgot the years, long an. 1 weary that
vonth .? • "^P"' "'■*' '"• T»«e Inez of hm
W the pnr.. .tarry face, mu.t hauut h i n
■to hi. dying day. An.l. the .mile tl at
.D.weje. „.y Lady Clyde^more waa absent
•nd a l.ttle aad. .nl the min.l that took ?n
her preaent pratt had wandern.l far Tv^Jy
The lovers behu.d followed .l„wly she
**»■•"« l'K'\"y "Pon hi. arm, liA^^ '
wndat he .poKe uf tlie land he harl left ,^
hi. re«rot at h.r father'. ill„e,g, his hapn !
neM.„m,.et.n«her again. But .yort
Ia.t topic .he Btmed so prceptibly tha t
Jacebemde him. with an annoyed w„,e,
defeat and jealousy in his brea.t ' Yo,,
prom.Md to try and l^arn to love n.e whe„ I
wa.gone Evelyn,' he .aid. ben.hng .ver
t:,rd?' -" '^'""■*'*' '^^' ^'^» ''«P'y«"r
Her eye. fell; her check, flushed. •!
Have striven ; I have done mv be.t. I think
■ometime., it i. not i.. me to lore at all~ai
you would have me. Spare me now. An
Other time-' she /altered and pan.e.l
J6
He it.,pp«d : ih. had looked up at him wiftt
all her Spani.h bloo<l afi... ^ '""' *'**
aninMu" 'l%^!f V'^ *•""'"''• Mr. Trev
r.rto..p,yT'^'"''''''' '•»"•*••«'»• idi*
•poke on the M,p„l.e ot li.e momenf an.l 1
1' ;ye you «, .i.M .lly. ^y .iarlmi/hatTou
the purple h.n/e of
bright brunett<i
ant. with ^park 1,1,
smile.— the dark J,
And, in that hour,
'^"iRto him. thr..u«h
spriu^j twd gl.c, a
•■'"{."» ng, saucy. ,lefi.
•ck «>yes ami diMipliuo
o'MMK-tte, thoaclicr-"
cian'bride;Viri;'iJ''V'v!'„rTr'''* ""' '•
iJie he.t. .Silence fell (wtween t!,ein 1 i,l„
Kvelyn wa, looking, with - .!. f„ f ."f
tK..,htfnl inter, t. at the .t.l vart fi . « I
the American c. el bef i.ml v
nance saw it ,nd »,niled "'■ ^"""''>-
B'lrci. ne « lid. Yon have deisiie I to l.w.ir
Yes. T.I! me . here I |,av« ,e..„ |,i„. l^.
fore-
in !
'^^.^l
your pii/..:
whom iie i
• Yes. fo
He tone
IS he like?*
him l>«.foie. and
Shall I tell yott
He thought of tho ivory miniature with a
•harp, cruel twinge of jealousy. It was not
t^.e jealouBy of alarmed love. tf„t of impe a
1 %y ' * "**' * ..*- ««-..^ ;..3 ryes liyii iiifr
Ywi were the belle of Loudon Inst se.aoni'
mo. VVh,
er seen
ar tu me.
ini at a oss."
..to l...r ' H'* '""''^ 'niniatnre. looking
nto her grave face with a .earcl.in„ .,., i/
nud he miKht sit ai the oridud of f. • '
tiire you hoi ' ""«m.a of the pic-
«••< I seen tiie pheiiotneiioii • hut nt »i.
words she pause,! Ru.hleulv' wit', « ! '"
repre.aih.e cry- f,. at '-- ' g-a ce ^hj «lT:
- l-e Htr.«,e. ,),« wondronf i^l^^niMan"
It startles y„„. ' her lover «ni,i 'ad"*
we meet thi'so ac lileiitnl ,„. i i' *"" y*
and then ThiTi- h rojemblances now
^,^;iti{t-...^:;A;:i^^m;:!;iS-:i;'
-iiS,^-:^--'.:(-e"'-"'^
this pictun.. What does voT Tnefd mel'
by woarmg a dca.l man*, fice •• "*"
the «...,t.en,a.. ,„ so""v'i';,rre tbies'V'" '"
Lo..d;Ro.hirnr..^r!?on":':|''r;:
•iV : lie w.ij vrrn..,.r..ii.. . . "■ 'oui
MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART
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i" Ilia
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1653 East Mt. SIreel
Rochester. Ne* York U609 USA
(716) 482 - OiOO - Phor.e
(716) 288- 5989 - Fa,
86
LAUY EVliLVN.
• My (learpst F><>Iyn I how can yon pos-
Bi'uly kiKiw nil tlii.s?'
' Maiunia kiwiws it— mnmina told me. S'le
wastoliavc Ixen Ilia wile; she I .veil him
Tery (ifarly. She hiul ch.rishMl his iiitmorv
Kiid his jiictiue and all these years, as even
a wedded wife may clerish the memory (if
the dead. S e mint not see this man ; the
llk(!iie^« IN soincthiug terrible.'
Tli.y had entered the park patfs, and
were passing up the avenue. Two gentle-
men, pacuf; leisurely around a vast orna-
mental lishpoad, paused upon seein-; them,
in gome surj rise.
• Yonder are my lord and the Karl of
C'ontarf, taking their hefo e-dinm-r i-onsti-
tiition.il, and ga/inj,', wish the eye- of a-toii-
ishment, unon Vivian Trevannanue !' fried
out Lady Cl\ .lesmore. ' Run to papa, Krnie,
an>l siiow him your shells.'
She dill not glance up at her companion.
Had she done sn, the gleam in his deep eyes,
the rij;:d compression of !r;s mouUi, under
that heuntiiul polden hea'^ -he admired so
mnoh, might have startUa her. She saw
nothinL' ; she 1 d him up to the two gentle-
men fMid presen ed lilm. ' Lord Clydesni . e,
Coh.nel Krnmuiond— the friend of wiiom
Vivian Tievannmoe has written you so
often. Colonel Drummoud, the Earl of
Cl..ntarf.'
The two men looked each otler straight
in h: eys -Colonel Drummond and the
Karl of Clontarf. And the Irish peer, pale
before from r< cent illness, turned ghastly
wliie, ami reeled like a mau who has been
■tiucL a blow.
CHAPTER VII.
THK SPELL OF THE E.NCnAXTRKaS.
And 80 those two had met again : once
mure they stood f ice to face who had parted
last in a bitter, murderous dealh-stnigirle on
that loiielv rork on the Irish coast. It arose
before them both in that instant— the wide
sea, the »l sotate strip of coast, the rosy
Bjilenddur of the new day radiant in the
ea'st, anil two who had been as brothers,
locked in that iieroe strnggli) for life or death.
In the ears of the I'::arl of Clontarf sounded
the eraHh o! his nuirierons fire ; before his
eyes rose the vision of t' at bravo, bright,
boyish face, as it had looked up at him ere
hnleil headhngover the dizzy ciilT. Oh,
(i.id ! had there been a day or anight, sleep-
ing or waking, in which that laee had not
ri-i n up before him to curdle his blond and
Mmeli his guilty lace' And now, after
«et)ty iuHg V"'--. - f--
from a foniun land, and look at liim witli
the dead y ulli'* i yes.
'Ilie ;.'ai:e of all was upon him— that of his
daiigliltr with aptiange intensity tliiit was
ahiiust terror. She knew the rensou of that
recoil, of that stifled exclamation, of that
corpse-like pallor— lie, too, saw the resem-
blance bctwe"n this .American officer and hi»
murdered kinsman. He imtieed that earnest,
troubled gaze, and it restored him to himself
as III tiling else could have done.
Of all the creatures on earth, he loved but
thii 1,1 i-lit. beautiful girl ; of all tlie crea-
tines on earth, he dieoU-.l mist that si e
should ever suspect tin horriLie truth. Hi
BtarteU up, with a ghastly smile, mutterinj-.
ii fo'iereiitly, something about leeent illness,
a siiihlen spasm, etc., and turned, with un
naiuial auiinatjon, toward his sou-in-law
elect. .
• I looked for yon this evening, Vivmi', he
said, taking the young man's arm whilst his
da ghtei- walked to the hall beside Colonel
I)i uminond. " I have been anxious for your
return. Illniss, I suppose, makes the hest
of us weaker than water— nervous as tea
driiikiim oil! women. I give yi u my word.'
with a hollow lauch, 'the sight of your
friend yonder, a second aco, gave me a rare
start, simply beciuse he bears a vague
re emblance to a man I kiKiW twenty years
auo. '
'Ah!' Vivian saul, with nonchalance.
' Mail's dead, I -npp se ?'
•Yes,' Lovd Clontarf answered, hoaraely.
He had kept .siient for a dei ade of years, ami
his secret had burned his very heart witliii.
him. Now, he must spe'ak, or go mad.
' Yes. he is dead — he was murden d !'
'Ah !' Mr. Trevanuance said again, in his
laziest tone. ' Unpleasant, that. Who was
he? Perhaps Drummond 's a relative.'
• Ko— irapos-ible ! I speak of— of ' — he
moistened his "dry lips ; the name so k-ng
unuttercd, seemed to choke him— ' I speak
of mv C'usiii, Roderic Desmond. Y^ou liav«>
heard of him?'
'Was accused of a murder, escaped, and
got ma'ie away with himself, wasn't he?
IJody never found, was it — nor the murder
brought home ? l?y-the-by, is it cert in he
was murdered? Men. "supp ised to have
been assassinated, before now have turned
up in the most impr bable manner— at last,
I have read so. Isn't it just possible your
cousin may have absconded, and striven to
leave the mpressiou behmd that ho was
killed?'
derail! Desmond looked at the Bpeaket
with eyes dilated in a great horror. 'No,'
he saiii, huskily, his voice full of suppK ssefT
intoiiaity : * there was no mistake— lie wa«
mard
— tlie
irient
broiip
twen t
now.*
The
Trevai
he tho
father-
years i
•in, esi
cousin'
hope li
has an i
this m«
Then
tioii — tl
Vivian
tliat ins
Lady
lover'H a
couversi
eyes wai
Colonel
ces-saiit.']
fixed oil
For til
ed as ti
great clii
table, t
It aeemeti
to Mr. Tl
hcrto foHi
Did he
cast sofi
browned,
did not di
He ate hu
marks, am
the fact th
re-poiided
the evenin
He was
was she — a
sileiic; fell
eyes, and a
from over
Wondering
he, alone a
youth, in 1
York.
Perhaps (
never seenie
of the glaiiot
Amid all t,ii
and of Amer
hail foHinl ii
the Cftilian
tt-ward him.
CIojit*if migl
witli
ir.e.,t Day And tl,^ '*r"' t'"»Ju<l>r-
br.-„.ht ''home-no"'' r'l'r "*? '"-'^«'-
twenty yean Lave naa^r . ? "ght-and
now.' passed, uid never will be
years ,. a ,ol<.r,.l,le time tu fori onlv ""^
■"'. especially when one 1 f T " * ^""•
hopehed.dn't do th^t^g tniir ' H^
this moment ' ^"fcene Ara„„,h l,.ok
t.or-;h;;":e7ef "th? f*"" '""'^'- ^^^-er,,,.
v.v.a„ T.^ev^:;rcJ'^:.etr7;^;.:„r;, f -•
ti.at ..«ta..t.l; e ha.l hit upon the "ruh' '"
ces.sa..t;ysh. ,..„„' tl.- e^.,1 w''if""*' *"-
fixe,l on the sfr.ng.r's face '" ^"^
l"or the c. OMd.he looke.l'a«caIml„..
ed iis the Parian Ganym.Mir„r, 7."""'*"'-
0... .„,„,,„.„«; S ,1 , ''J:,', ,;'':°'''''i
He ate h. d.nne;^;;/? ^^ ' muVin.u.T'^''-
inarks, and his appetite «as nnf ; • '^ '"«•
the fact that my 'ady >v"s i aL ?''''^'' ''^
the evening cf his arrival * *'"" *''«
He was not feverishly in love n«
was she— and nres..nf « i "" ""O™
.i'encfe,, i.^K'"t„ '^^'^n'^r ll'/'^'
wondering wlL:7oor'f ttt i?!:;:: J'^-'f
be, alone and friendless in her £ ftv *" J
^.th. n. that vast. .ioW^^j^:^
nef^'trmedt lolk^'tirr"'''' ^'"'"e'' he
h.. found .t, he i:.;,:t^';i«s -"^^i^: ':,
f;ApY EVEL^-N.
aSrn'elT;teTi„Tr;"''*"*^''^
d'»appointment w", s ii dft " "^ "r'"
PPpitehin., ina^u e, f iT/hwHr '"'
>n »iPrdei.d-h|ack.linir .., i '"'" •""■«»
the dream otp^X:^. '7,^:^;:; hL'T"
«elf beside her once a7rrr '*"""' ''""•
•"ite of draw n« '^„t i"'""''-'"' *''« 'ong
•t War..,.ok Hi,;r; V a^u'w.f ""hlrf"
eyei- saw only one fi,r f.,.- *, ' "' '""
7"-V"-'- ""d h. hids'to'ii a^^ ,:' '•^7
; ••"'' '•^"" ''-o^etiorious to,.e, "li, ^''If*'
be her hush..u;th'aV a pirbr? '^'^' '' *"
fool to con.e here ! Justice ?^1, u 'J'** "^
.'•tl.ouKh the H.aven'. faU •"ifl"" '"•'*'
justice that te-4r« .L ' "'"* yet that
father's heTd a.uUhru! r °T"', ^'■""' her
theperj„red;':^;l,:,':r:^n;\-,;;:.;'--rici.a.
^lU break that hanghty I.eTrt a ? I"'
l-oks at mo with the only flee r ^"Z' '"''''
and the ol.l madness tllat^thoniM:;,'^"''
« one for IS strong within mt «- ''ea.lanri
Bhe iK^Iong. to a^.other mani'o'thi- f ^"''
whose bread I have broken wl?. I ^"'"'**
«o free and so frankly I w^; To< U '"'
J ««1! be a Villain if J ,(«* <i V ''°"'« '
• re for the ma . to wh.t^he t'"' 't^ ''">'
I feel inyo^nroncasmanV in. ''«««',and
him an VI hinc- tttlr. i V "*'* teach
'"e with those gloro^s i:™^'^'"' *»
n.atehle.ss l^auty » v ° ? ,,!>?"• 7"'' that
hvi.ipide.clen"cl;ed^:i;e';sfl::;;^r"«
I In I "*.^'^"'°»t farthwfg E he~ "'*'
I ove.l him an.l I trnste.I i ^i^^'
had was his ; and his rotn „ '"m-nll I
a"..l .hath. 'Spare hi'nV'V^. .^"S '""''on ^ur
ti.is thrVshohr'Zn;r ' hV ^r"-'-
ends my cearoh f r \l "''^ ^''.s ""eek
a.ul when I hive f^^,/;2;-»" -Hi beg^
I>e-niond, the dead K. 1,1 ' .•"'' ^'«'''-»'''
RodenV- f)e.n/^nd liut '""''r'' "'e bving
^ But though nun" ;;,'^;;Sr "*-"•'•'
he loves is v y ant .„-','"°P"''e, the worn m
KnchantresI c^,. ff ' ° ! fe" , '^-'-- "'•
her. S.,m8on. and uZ I '''"'.' ""^ *" th
wpr» „,„...;•.."' .^*«"=<ilps, and Anf«...,
'•*"' ""^ "'•'<* of them the
M« I1..I I. .If
ifi
LAI»Y KVKI.V>f.
vpric'st drivfllers. fl'>. pwHei.tly. w'len the
stern ami stahvjii t Americiin oflicor foiiml
hiniHolf in ;v c')»v nook bi^siile Clontan'si
pen k'ss (liiUKlitcr, all liis lieroic reMilvca
melted away, ami liu was iistetiiii;; to tlie
soft music, of tr.iit low-trainud M in' ami
dazzled and blinded 1 y the liglit of the
atarrv «-'\<!s and Itrilliant oniih 8. Trevan-
nanoc, h-aiiin'^ aeainst t.lie marble of the low
chimney piece, and flirting with L'ldy
Clyde^iUKirp ami awln'l: proup of oinnty
direns, watchod t'leni under his eyelasiics,
and wondered a litt'e at the gracious irood
of her impeiial hnlysli p
'Is it because of his melo-drnmatic re-
gemlilanpe to the defunct Irisii cfin>!ii? or is
it becauBe he is my frieml ?' He smiled a
little at the last conceited notion. ' If n'y
lady loved me. that 1 might account for it ;
but she is far beyond any such mortal weak-
ness. It Wv)iild not he polite, I suppose, to
interrupt tlieir piivato conversatinn.' He
took an easier posiiion acaiiist tlio r.iniitel as
tho Karl of Clou tarf appriached him. The
Irish peer w;<8 stil's^lia'^ilv prvle, and still
kept that furti>'e Imt incessant watch upon
his future son's friend.'
•The American is inclined to monopolizo,'
hesaiil, with u forced .sniiio quite awful 'o
see. ' I ciineratulaie you upon your fiet».
dom from the preen-eyeil monster. Ho is a
remarkably handsome man. '
*Be3t-l< okiuf; man in the room, by Ions
odds, myself included,' Ti'Vaimance res-
pnn<led, serenely ; ' and I'm not jealous,
thank yon. It's a most fatiguing p:'..ssion —
never w aiu to eet the steam up so iii«h as
that. And I have ev<jiy tni ;t in my fair
future bride.'
' The more T look at him, the more his
Wvjiiileriul resemblance to— to the peisou I
apoke ipf strikes me,' tiie earl said, hastily.
' If - it" 11' deric DcsuiovkI Iw (1 lived, he must
have looUed now precisely as tliatmm
looks. There is somethinn horrible in tiiis
woarins; the face- of the deail — it is like see-
ing u^dist.' He lani,died, but the lanp'i
wa.s ho low and forced. ' Vivian, I wish ;. u
woubi tell nio all yon know of mm.'
'And that "all" is nothing. He is
Colonel Drumniond. He is a thoroueh
gentleman, and the best fellow I ever nut.'
• And this is .all you know?'
•All, my lord.'
'And yon brinj; a stranger — an ad venturer
— a 1dackg\;,nrd, pr ■bably — here among your
friends ; a man or whoi-eanteteden'.s you are
totally ignorant, and pies nt him to my
dauchter. Sir, sncb con., net — '
' My lord !' Mr. Trevannanoe said, and
hlF soft, lov.- vuico COiiti.iSteil &tf::t!;-,i!y ui h
toiios of the other, ' pray
the harsh, )ii^i
don't excit<' yoiir.ielf. I regret giving vou tha
grert iroubli! of getting angry ; iiui, at tlui
isk of doing I'O still further, y>'U wdl peiinit
me to say, my friends inust alwavsbe tit us-
sociat'rt eNcn f"r Uw ■ au^diter of Lord Clnn-
farf. Wliat Colonel DriimuKiid l:*s been in
the past, in his own country. I <annot »ij
— wh 't he is, I 'itnow — a gentleina>i, a scho-
lar, a iiero. '
' 111 his own country,' the earl had cau .'hi
but the^e words, 'in the past! What do
mean ? Is h.; not an Ameiioan ?'
' No — I am quite certain lie is not. Kiig-
lish. Scotch, or Irish he maybe, is — liut of hia
birthplace and li'.i hstoiy I am i'l prufounii-
est icnoiaiK e. Tirit the history has l>eeii a
aiiignlarand ronianic one. I am pofiitna. Ik
would be strange mid melo-dramatic, and
sensational, and all that,' with a slight
laui<h, ' if lie turned out, aftei all, to be tho
man you think de-id. It's irot likely, you
know, but still— All, excuse me Lady Kve-
Ij'h becKons '
He haiiiu. red acrons the U ng room to tha
8idt> i>f his fair betrothed. I), innniond still
held his place near her; lie had b en unk-
ing, she listeiiiiig,ai'(i her cheeks were softly
fl shed and the hiiliiaiit ey( s swee. and
tender oiul ilii; perfect iips wreathed in s
tl;ou.;litfiil smile.
' He has : een tall<ing of von,' slia sai 1,
with the bright- St ^la' ce she lind ever uiveu
him — 'telling me how bi.ivel^ \ou saved liia
life '
'And what of hin.self? On their own
merits, modest uieu are I'liinti eh ? Has li«
told you his name was a word of teiDr
with which ni'i'iera irif;hteiu d t'.icir .liildn-u
into being good, as the Sarac n mat ons
used, \iitli tlie name of Iv ne Kiclinril? \V, «
it Richard, by the way? He baa told y, u
h ■ was a h "st in himself — the invulnerabla
leader of the " D.'vil's Own ?" I think of
bringing out a book relating hia exploits —
and imiiiortaliziuL; myself.'
He had not once glanced back at his latti
companion — ' ~d lie •oi-.e so, tiie livid horror
in the et uiourlesa face must have
strangely r 1 him.
He 8too<! t.ariiig — yes, absolutely glaring
— at tho group, seeing only that one manly
fai-e, with its rare beauty and gtavely-smiling
nioith, If it were true? if Rodcric Desmond
still lived ! if this man were he !
The next morning he could have laiirhed
aloud at his own folly. ' I am a f(K>l !' ha
said, fierce y — 'a drivelling nionomanian 1
I fancy resemblance where reseniblanca
there is none. I "Aiil put it to the test, by
bcaveu 1' He started up with a sudden
; i__ 1 \ll :i:_ _.l.-Il ...*- tl.;« I 1$
Itiva.. irij wiic rliati n^r^ tf-»B ttfttir : xi
Iloderic Dcsutoud weru alive, old, auU gray.
«nd h
and ,1
— stil
He
again,
the di
Lad
at par
Jiis—ti
and it
thrillei
night,
her m
dreamy
perfect
It ruilia
■he had
haunted
•tood II I
davnea
rose-fl.i8
the face
at her w
eyes. 'C
' my bri(i
I iiave wi
with a 1
the clitf
•woke !
Vivian
in hismii
«d of t.K
paient-in-
Dion resen
go»e. C
with fohle
' Tried t
taken,' Tr
cigar, 'hm
fellowa is p
be the dead
that sort oi
know, thou
tical)Ie.'
'And you
»nond Baid, i
can he be so
der if he did
nerrr found
'Pnt it to
'all of no ui
dead man «u |
I've Been h
your pjirt, as
with the froi
hut that it is
«'l the salno.
the earl did ;
him.
•Couldn't th
5rout>i»-, njv fri
*«ud asfcr th
the dUctio^Jll^Se'y; ■^•;;«. 2 ""«'-'- -
her mai.i won. ie e J m "«' '""^ '"'"•.
*l'ean.y ,...,1 ...: n ..f, .. 'tLT\^'^^"' »"
perfect I,„„uty of n V : "oftened the
•t r-uliant. And the v i"l? ' ^''''' *'"^ '"»''«
■I'e had never 8„e,«.X» 7"'' '''''°''« ^'ke
'-"t-I i-r into ."'and o"r"" ""^'••"■•
•tood upon a towe ,,, n ff f 'r''""'- ^'^''e
ro»e.fl,,«he,l w«tl^ a fn ' ""'' ^'•'"" the
the face of the .ira^, */°T, *'•'«'«. "eanng
«t her with the Se r^'^;";- »•"« h,ok,nJ
' "ny bride, niv ri 1' /"'/''"'« «"' i"« arms,
•woke! ** extended aruss, and
*d of the manner n which T*^'"^""""
paient-i„.,,v,v was e«ro^^ . '•* '^"'■t''y
Tried to convince Inm i .^f"^ ^">ile.
t-'ken.' Trevannanoe aTd IT''**" "^■
fgar. -hutthe oh«t,n!v ,-^*,*^"« "' ''is
felIf>W3 is past belief T^i V i •''*"" "''''rly
be the de.d man cote *I 1 1 '""' ^^^ ""«ht
that sort of th^nHnniJ' 'If *'"-'''''>• ''o
can Jie be so noa tivp n"n«, ^ i,- '^ . "ow
der if be did>Ke him^ •>" ''''"''•"''» '"ur-
nerer found thllodj',^ '°"''^"*^' *"d they
•ai7of* i'oirse.""^;:;::^."" k'?-'«'« =
deadn,an« twopeasLknowlS "^ ^*"
Ive seen his picture mT"' '^""'^''''e
«ith !».« front,w!of ^^"••''. to go about
but that, it ,s an 'n^T.^n o.dy 'h^nd^n" = ""*
•II the ea^e. Want^.l v.-,. "*""»0"'e one
the earl did ; very .o ry I Sdn't"""^''"-
him. ' ^ conidn t give it to
•Couldn't think of nnttin
•ouwn «.y trien.l.' tho".7.V7,.::r' '"?=,"'««h
LADY EVKLVN.
89
Bt«.TvU.a..tyofth^Muynit'''""«'' *'''
i^.-iieSuJrsrioi^^"'"^'-'^'^
abruptly. *"' y«""«ernian asked,
' fhut site is well naitimJ • k-
peerless J' *'^"'^^''«"''a» Ro.e is perfect and
And Colonel Dr mn.nond*"',^"'"'' "" ''"''«••
onh,mfor„n ,^ a a w,th^*^^^^ ,«-''o rested
almost envions "' * '""^ that ««,
v.v^"v;;:Sn:r""*^-'"-^-an.
'.■-'^^KiIr"K.«fy.-''''.dthewa,
Will 8 flei) w-ll if ., "', "° «"Hl. 'Yon
bet.-e the tire anrt.S'n '?'"'''"'' -^^^^
''ver t%, „,,,,t,../' M.^*- 1 P at a po,tr«i»
:''->Pi''«oyi,7e ':";:''•''• .7''" r.on.1
was l..n«,...f,,re ale'p I ,. ';*' "^ '•"«•... it
ami watched the ft,k7r u! TI 7 '"'W^r.-d
"P-theiove,yf^|^-«-i«;;pr^^
CHAPTER VIII.
^B GIPST OIRfg PROPHECT.
It was the ;;ti„',, „^::' -» ^^-^ wi„s ,
, thronged, the uproar was*;i. J "• ""« '^'^
Scarlet «nd Jilui, ,„,] ^"^^ deafening. y„,
mmiously brat n «„!i n . *«re iff„<^
'V'thsenoerle^'ami bn.l' ^^ ''''""ty.
;von the race. Ca f Ln R*"* T"' ''»«
The little niare. ent ,» | fn '!k ^'•'^•""a'-oe.
crouDi^. ,„y ,-riend.' the"co;'onei"s!,TdT^'' ^"t bi, indoFe.rt sn.iir" '"• '^^«P«^tatio. s";
"* "" •'"■• ard men ou
»\..
,%
00
LADY KVKI.YN.
the turf. b. low Beeiiied goiuK in»d with ex-
citement. ,
' Riither a clone thing, that fini«h, he
murnmix-c!. m iitly. ' I tiotiglit King Cluops
woiikl liavfc li;>(i it. I iiiigiit havii known.
tlKiiij^h, tlifit the bay niiuc, so named, cmM
not l>o bfivten. Castilian Kost must always
win.'
La.ly Evelyn Desmond ehrngged her
ehoiililerf", a ti i(l<' di.silainfullv. Sue had sat
tlieri' on tlie iriiind stand, between her lover
and Colonel Driimni nd. and tiiere li.id been
Very lit'lu ot interest in the violet eyes that
followed lier colnurs over the field. She
)i»ii c<ime thcie beciinsn ulie could no" very
well stay awiiy ; hut whether her namesake
Inst i>r won the ureat race, wae a matter of
Very little niteiist to her.
Colonel Diuinnioiid •jtood beside her. Yes
thou h two weeks hail gone since that night
on which he had made his heroic resolves,
Hercules ling, red ctill by the distaJT of
Oinpi
Me 'onld not eo ! The fascina-
tion" that hM him was a sorcery he was
powtrU-» to iisi>t. He lovd as he had
never loveil liefMe— nay. not Inez D'Alvarez
—this n-e'il hfiiuty, whose invincible cold-
ness and pride had yieiddl to him as they
hail never vieldtd lutore to mortal man. He
had U'ade his resolution ni itll gooit faith —
he meant to keep it honestly— would h;4ve
kept it I'tit foi the power of circumstances.
And to the power of circ'imstances we are
nil. th. best and bravest of us, alij' ct sub-
jc'cts. To liiiL'er th' re, and meet her father
day after d.iy. 1"'" mothei perhaps, would
have been simply inipossihle ; hut, on the
day follow ing Ins ariival, pressing business
of a political nature hac! calteil the con-
va ■ set lit peer back to town, and he had Imt
returned this nMiri<in>; For my lixdv, she
was a confirmed invalid, just able to move
about n r apartments, and no more. Her
fii' n Is visited lier there, her future son-iu-
law among tl^e 'cs^ ; but the American
otfi-er, of course, she had never seen. Her
lii( huii<: but hy a thread; not for worlds
wonUl I>ady Kvelvn have let her mother
meet the mail who fio strancely wore the
fa' e of the lover of her yontlt. And so he
had liiiu'ered, yielding to the soliciiations of
iii'i frimd and lins', and t'ave himself up to
the sped of the siren, 'l hey met ilaily, at
dinmr and eveninj: parties, boating and
ri iiiL' ox> iirsinns, improvised pic ics, and
pihrrimafres to ruins— they mm daily, and
why lier heart fpiiekened its ! eatings, and
why the word looked a brighter ami fairer
place than ever hefore, Kvelyn Hesmond
never thought nor risked herself. She knew
that a dreamy and novel bliss filleii her life ;
that sheooiilt! liFtni and never wearv whilst
Colonel Dramrfiond talked : that she had
learned to search for his ta 1 form and srrava,
noble face in crowded rooms, and to find
them wearily empty if he were rot there.
She knew it vaguely, but it was all so new
and Htr.->nge to ' er that a» yet stie had no*
dreamed that at 1 ,st— she loved. As her
iraze wam'eied over the suiging throng be-
low, a face and tiirnre she knew arrested her
attention. It was the striking fieiire of a
gipsy girl. 'Look !' she said, to u hing her
lover's arm ; ' do you rememlter that laceT'
'The gipsy, by Jove ! who told us our
fortunes a year ago. Didn't come true—
did they ? — her predictions ?'
• I have forgotten what they were,' Lady
Evelvn said, carelessly. ' Have yon ever
had your horoscope ca«t. Colonel Dium-
mond ? If not, now is the time. You will
never find a fairer seeress. '
•My fortune wi.s told twenty year* ago,
the American officer 'aid, with his grave
smile—' the future I think I can preilict for
myself. Your dusky sybil mittht easily
tempt a more hopeful man. See that strange
figure speaking to her now.'
A wr tched looking vagrant, leaning oa
a St ck, his face uhaded by Ins battered hut,
hfid hobbled up and addressed lier. She
turned from him, and looked up at the grand
stand with dark, earnest eyes, as though he
h.id spoken of them. The eyes of the vagrant
turned too, in that direction — red, fiery uyee,
full of fierce hate now, aa they fixed on the
face of the Earl of Clontarf. ' Aye 1 there
i he stands, the co<var<lly murderer ! the per-
' jured traitor ! higli in honour among the
great, tit ed ami wealthy, looking down on
honest men like dogs. 1 wonder it ho think*
—the mighty Earl of Clontarf— as another
of his order once said, " All men are equal
on the turf, and— under iiT" There he
staniB, and one-and-twcnty years almost
have passed since Kathleen O'Neal and
Roilerick Desmond found the seas their
windintr-sheets, and Mill he lives and piw
pers. And they say there is an aveuKing
heaven after that !' ' He hobbled away with
a hist baleful glance of hate. He never look
cd at the others- he plunged awny among
the crov.d, soliciting alirs with the true pro-
fessional whine of the Beggar Tribe.
As the ladies and >;nitlemen swept down
from the grand stand thr'nigh the fielil, the
handsome gipsy came suddenly up to them,
ami confronted Vivian Trevaiinance. 'My
pretty gentleman, let the poor gipsy tell
your fortune.'
Vivian laughed— Lnny Evelyn, upon his
arm, shrank ever so sli htly back. ' My
pr. tty cipsy, I think I have had tiie pleasure
of hearing you spcer fortUHe-t, before, aud-
it w
true
•I
telle
but I
•ee y
He
and
benti
pa'm.
Baslie
trnnsf
eyes.
yonr
found
the pa
Judv, I
But
h md
of this
p.ta^ on
• Ah,
and yoi;
palm, b
lady, th
—y-Mi u
Your ha
is given
not pred
•ubtle n
•p at the
and eiic
can tel. t
lave oui
colonel, y
predict.
•toi e for 3
A grouf
*"'! Lord I
paused, an
the latter
Under tlie i
Li dy l-^-e
impulse o
Druinmotid
took his ha
1 to the my
' I s e he
Very hriglif^
■A hand has
«"(ne strong
your past ; I
*t an end.
•Iiine* brigh
pen.sate for tl
Siie droppc
Did she spe
»<•'■ her, keei
*hat darkened
•"'". He tur
"»*■ *.W«1. of tjjj
•ilw. They didn't com
it wa» a « astfl of
true.'
* Bnt ti.ev will come tni^ I' th« f„,*
teller , ,«wered, loftily. • Tj, * ' '""^t""''"
•eeyoii. han.l.' written. Let m,-
•nd yi,.l,le.|. *T hi d\ru ""P"""'" tone.
bcntabovo it. and peered ;„r, P'-»P''«t*-^
LAKV iiVBtVN.
01
P^'m. U-..e„ s,;e'ilu:d Chead ::•""''>'
Hashed. ' It i,„. "ead, iipp eyes
tra„sti,i„, im witlTM'""' '"^« •*'<'
y'lir ife in n 1 „i u *"" '"»■« of
'•'"-..l I r ami left "her tl'T^ "'* "«--
tlu, past a, w. la, Z' f.^'''""P*t •""^«'»
1-iv. let n.e tell f^r ;.'",,'"'•• ^5^ P""^
P« m. I3eca„»u you fear to • V "/ •'""">'
'a<J.V. tho„,h fea>le„ brood runs i.:'!:. """' ""^
->■;>" fear the truth f,„r" "'^°"'"''«'"«
.Your ha..d is t'o ^ S' ^ f/ ^^^f. °);" '--t.
•ands'i.i'h'apXorel'^orru'^^''''''-
tan tel; ,he future for certah and '"''' •"'"
I «ve our fortune, told P.' L ""' '"""*
-''"••el. with api^eof -.iur" ':r^p;■'^
P'vdwt. I am dying to know I '''"'f
"- «'■ t-.e f -cumstanoe o , •^jL.^^^-r"
^^'■K:^.d:'S^;£°l2^^w:;:^i
'•tothen.ynii Jilr '""« '"'^ «an.e.t y '
»-y bri^h'r^er: .h.r'^^.'r''''"'"^?'^ P««'~
A l' nd ha, S.Hft^.7 ''""•'" ""'' *"«"="'•
•• -ne strong an7 e, L .n """'"i* ^r' ''f« =
your p,a,t ;^but tS" i^v^roT'ttr'"'^""'''.''
ai .in end. Tii,. elm!) i , ■ enemy i,
•i'ine. brigl, V ,^f°;;'l »;;« b-'-xl ; the fun
pensate for'theMe^tnii^g " """^^ ^'^^ -°'
Rl.c dropped hi. hand.
ten i.:;vst':i:rie'i •"' .^^-^'-^ ^-^-e
»'..n.larkened b.tte pa, '» ^ r^'^r","^' "^ I
Ji.n. He turned a.TliL/,';.*'!':*'-' ••-' I
tnat itrouff and deadly enemj,' '
And the earl >■ .. , .
'"d h r lov-er felt her ?,"?«"'"'""' •"••••"'■
«r^ "Pc.n his arm rJir"*"""-' '^«'"»"'-«
oraci;;'!;;::^';:;;;::^;~;:;^«;;e„the De,phi,
was « mystery, and « trlf. di " ■* *''''™
'»«"«•. and all that sort ^Tf '"'.• '■°-
•^^-ay in r>run.mo„d'sTfe L;/""«' '"''''•"»
'"V prophetic soul rJhe' al . ""'""Voh.
'act. Col nel I be«. .„'•"« ''ave it for*
-S,e:|"'t„i:,r^J^. andfae.
-i'«t.iid m, j5; I V v„*h: , i""r'^-*^"i
glanced at her • fh . , 'y" V"."'* "^ '» ' He
•till and pale a'n k' r;^ 1"' !"" 'o^'^'d
• Shall 'we g ". , ' ^'''"t'* •^«"-
mustwestav inthe hof ^'"''''y' '"f
-oH-d li«tening further J. t Ij," .•'l';"*^ "*•
•Iwdlride.ifyou'S.''*' *"'• «•''
"er. For R-'ie.ptl? ':;;;? ^ ''•';^" "Po»
^>Mfartooprn„,ito\,k *° ''""• "»>»
evon ha.i sh^ beli*el:;r;|.em' *"^"P'««*t'o„.
.i.I^fcic;:!s:*;.;;Sttsr---
party eaun',rod up "'"a'wier of the
gr;^;^,:^!^:;:^^.;;-;'';;-;,. ^„,n ,,^
''»«bgl.tln,ffh,V;,e^ ,'"'•»««• Ah I' With
^et.rn journey Afvlo vfi ^T'"'"''' ""^ *''«•
«'•'! «lano d at his la.ly. fcre i ' "^''Pf"'*^
"wonng .m.le in her face i r ^■"* "" ««-
a''IeasthoaKhca.v;diuTaHde'" ""'«d-
. The colonel an.l Udv ri^
vannance's servantled p th^'*; "f '^••-
He assisted her into the Lm. *'^" ''««•*«»•
gallope,! aivav. flas i nl J* .k"', •""^ ^"^r
carnages, aftc.: tl^S Zl it'""" '""> ^
l''jr wno iiau gouo,
CHAPTJBft IX.
TOLD IN THK TUTLtOnr.
ocvision. altl.,.,j„i. ..' ? . '^,*"'. *'"" fenee/al
t'on almost .xc!:,ei,-,.,,;I^ ';;;'*;'« COurerw.
Slip flirter' witl^ H. h 1 '
V2
i,\i»N i;\ l■;!.^ >.
ceiUiiily; ihe adiiiircil liini iii.iritn.ily, and
m.iile i)i> HOcn^t if it ; Imt »lie also »uw, witli
Woinan'H sli.irp liulitcdiie.-s, tlie Secret lie
/ondly tin unlit Inn led tlwp in liisowii heart.
And likiiii; iiini, ami iiiteiusted in liim, my
lady pitii H liirn in lier own htcitt heart, and
Logan to wish he wonhl tjo awiiy.
• lie in such a KpU-ndid fel o\v, you know.
Ernest,' nho B.inl, with chainiinj; ciitdour,
to 111 r liiihli.ind— for ot loiiine, «vilo-likf. »h«
tohl liiin ut once of lier gnat diMCovery,
• that it's a pity to see him faliinf^ into the
Sloiijrh ol l)<«imir where La K i-e de Castile
casts luT viciiiiiH. There wan poor Ainethjbt,
yuii know— Ins career in ran«, ami Viejiiia,
and li,ideii-Pa itii.hiif! hcen soinetliitif; ahcok-
iiig tilncp 8h« rehis (I him. And Maji r
Langley, I f t:ie :;uiirds ho has exchan>;i'tl
and jjone out to India. It's Inen so with
dozen ; and the woi8t of it ii they all be-
ioia-ed to n e tiist " 1 never loved a dear
^raztile," etc. ; and now I mean Colonel
Urunimonil should not lose his bead and
break his hear' for — '
' Foi a lieaiity as cold as (he Diana of the
Louvre— very "pliiaiithropic of you, my
dear,' his loidsl.ip said, drowsily.
'Ah!' my lady lespinnU-d, with a wise,
little, woniaidy ncd ; ' I'm not so sure of
that, either. She doewii't know it herself ;
and he doesn't know it; but the sooner
Colonel Drunnnoiid dejiaits the belter for
her peace of mind also.'
'Good Heavens, Hcatrice !'— Lord Clydes-
more choked a yawn, and sat eiect.stariiig —
' you never mean to nay — '
But his lady i;losed his mouth with a kiss
and a laii','h. ' Oi course not, you precious
old Rtupiii ! Only I shall take the very
earliest oiiporliinitv to tell the handbome
colonel of till- £;rand prep.i rat ions, for the
weddiiij.'.;u d iliat it is to take place in June.
Now no to sii't'p. '
That oppoitunity hnd come today, }
«M d in the most natural, most otJ-
l.iTi'l way imajjinable. Lady . Clydes-
mv I ; ch u teied of the jjiand pcepaia-
tions, and the grand we ding to c< m . 'It
will be an eminently .-iuitab!*! match. I thmk,'
she eaid, gaily, ' 1 have known Kvelyn and
Vivian t-o long — both are the .-^oul of honour
and integrity, and verv strongly nttached to
each other. It will bo a very happy union.
You stop for tho wedding, of course, Colonel
Drummoiid '/'
' No,' he said ; ' I leave at one — at once !'
he repeated, sternly, ' a's I should liave left
long since.'
L!>,dy Clyde:iinore'e .inswer was a startled
cry.
rouud in hoi saiiJlc. Colouel Drummoud
turned on the same impul •■ , .nnd echoed thai
cry 'f ttlariii at tho fik£lil h-.' "^iw.
The horse of Lady Kvi'.yn, a wild-bloodcd,
half-tamed thing at List, had tak-n fright
at home obutruction, and darted iff like an
arrow.
There was vjr.v little real danjer, pcrliapt
— buL the lightning-' .e rapidity with whi. Ii
ehe fl.jw over tliu ground— the ea th u iilaci;,
Tyi ,g sheet liii' .ith her— made her snk and
faint. Her head reeled, the leiiis fel', anil,
with a dizzy sense of hlindnesw, she felt her-
self failing heaillong from the sad le. Hut
Bwifiei- than her fall, swift an hislo\efo?
hir. Colonel Diuminond had flung himself
oil' h.iii own hoiHe, and caught hi r lu his armt
as she reeled and fell.
' My love— my love ! you are safe.'
He lorgot every thing — honoureven— evor\ •
thing hut that he loved her, and that Inr life
for an instant had been in ilang'T. And at
the wonls, tho eyiB which had been cl sing,
opined and looked up into his.
She did not answer; bespoke no more.
Rut, with that sudden, stiirtled look, the
truth was revealed to both. He lovtd hev—
clip loved him. On tho instant, Trevan-
nance dashed up, white with horror, and
flung himself lie.^nh; her.
' My darling ! Tiiank God you are saved.'
She smiled faintly, and turned to him.
L idy Ciydesmore joined them as she spoke,
witli wild eyi s and many exclanrxtions.
' It u.is v ry w. ak and silly > f me,' Lady
Evelyn said. Juicing a, smile, to turn dizzy.
But for that I could have managed Rose-
leaf well emaigh. Hi. ever, I am not in th«
least the worse for his escapade, so pray
don't make a victim of me. Here comes the
pheaton • I think I'll take the vacant Scat
with Kthil Albimarle. My nerves are jtut
a trifle shaken.'
Sue did not once look at her preserver ;
she made no attempt to thank him. Siie en-
tiled the pheaton, and Vivian r< de by her
Bide, still pale and fu'l of blame for himself.
: And the American officer vaulted again into
! the saddle, and galloped homewanl beside
I Lady Ciydesmore ; and, strange to relate,
her "volatile ladyship did not speak one word
till they re; ohed Waibeck Hall.
Colonel Drummond refused every entreaty
to enter ; he went straight to Royal Rest
with his host.
'Imu^tleave you to-morrow morning,'
the American officer said, Lncfli, once i n
the way. ' I hive to thank your friendahi;)
and hospitality for many pKa^ant houi-;
but my men and my duty are out yonder uu
tlie Western plains." It i- the life .ifter i.!1.
best worth living — .tat suited to uie. I
should have j^oiie long siuce.'
•01
De<
■C'l
I
Ova
t'«
• I,
1 itc,
Tl
tiv«
ing»
itinni
bish
tered
'.M
onej,
dal<f ?
*T«
make
ing up
ocarsil
bowi'd
"•imed
the Mn
had doi
op and
then h;
• Sadd
once, '
gone ♦'
'Vo,i
And, I
Dlililiti'S
of War!
n Way
between
escapod II
part for e
The ear
▼ery mi.st
drawing- r
•ervant to
.' Tell he
I will del
He walk
windows 01
dark ivy i
•round it.
•pread a fai
'»'ith thegli
scent of wi
•eain in <i
•tars of the
"'ihis, or per
•nds a life of
• "on wish
«*»y ?' a to
■|»d not hearc
she ha. I n^,.,^
»ut sound. 6
•<^rceiy hennl! *"• '^'""h the other
* • ivemi,.. "^'"' •• tliey ro<l« up
That I iia^Q jriveii nr* > *i.
• . quietly. ' Mv ."P;,,*')' "»''«f re.po.ul
^t. I «'«1' return to Aa,e "? ."''""^^'^ «^
tive rcK„„s. the colonelTn n \ ^^V" ^'"'P^'^'
Ing' with h., own I a.uU vrj"''* '''' "«''••'«-
h.8 hoHt', valet TapLi'tr'';""'*' '*'^'"'^
tered. »''"^*' «« the ,io r, aud cnl
•Tell '''"' '•'■'"^ '■'■ ^"^ifn,?:"' '""' **> S^-*-"-
'"•ko'nyrpi;"::;''^.*;;^;;,'; ?r' *'"?"«^ *«
jng "P from his work • ?' , ''" *♦"'- '"ok-
Soar,.lale Hall to-.lav ' T)!!" o°'. ''"'« «f
boH-,., and left the room .„ , ?, *'"",«» v.'l.t
"•<'ne.| hjg p,,ckinir ri i *''" '^"'»»«l re-
^'«rf .io„e. Ho looke . „. r'^"'''^' ^''«" "e
up and down a few moten « In 7"''^' P'^«l
then ha«tnyran« thelj, " '" '"^'P "'""i.'l.t,
J-; i^'^.:^s;r^.t^'--„„dat
gone?' """^- "as your masfer
aI" inl'lrmtrbS '^ -"•. ,t,a,d.
m^iu^sheua^n ' if' r'^*'"''' ""» ^ew
of Warb„ck H «'o'^^''"^"'t'"''''irectio„
««;ay like a 'thief ■ V "°' «'«al
•jetween his teeth 'iL.j® ""ittered,
'-'ll'V KVW.VX.
window, overlook Lthi'n"^^' '■\''«-fl'-aped
dark ivy and dorro,e P^P'r^''" » '"ioh.
•round it. Farthel^thaTh, **"'.";« "'''•k
•Pread a fair vista of J L„ ?"'*' »« ti'r
*"th theglimmer of runnmV"''* ^^'•dl-nd
•«■>* of wild. Bwee rorer Tf "«■•, •"^ the
•earn in dteama ' L ft ■ ^ '^''^ see it
•tar. of the prairL „**"*"«''*• ' '""^er fh.'
•'•rf« a life of litti; U8e to J^"^ ^"'^'"' *"'"<-■'
• - ou wished to see me '' **"^ "" ^*^'b- '
«^fy?'. tow. .oft voice n^"" "^ «"'"«
■""■ "'s^;L:^r!^^'':«^oom;;u::j
him. elancinp '
»ut BouiwT jTr '"'^ '*"Ktn of
* '^"atl. She .tood U^ide
"P with dnrk .f.-ti J
•'« ''trueV.ne';';'',^^^^^^^ 'ace.
sweet voice • /,„ *''• " tri-.noiir ui ti,.
7-f forth. pa':;:o,iSr'" '••''«»««.•..«
I had UHver con.o ( l '^' , , ^^""'•' to «lod
boon faUe to friend, „'':;' ""' ""^'' ''"*•»
«''0"ld not thenl avl .^ .'" . '" '""»o"r. I
">««! .•nouirh an 1. '"' ^''« *"•<'• ' wJ
""'Icanmakei8u.^o«;i '""'' "^P'*"
"<•• and hurv it wi l, ? " , "'^ "'"'"t u,th
''''\''''"vo left 'u^'ilV''''''' '•''••. '" tl.,
-4t:::.fr;h:i::;^-f"^-:«-eood
' ^ oil do not spfak T u
""'1 P'.esninptnon,. and .f''"""''"'" '"<> -nad
1 ..ave l,eon false to the fnJ.i, "'*"■'• 't-
^, ''ave brokoi, • false //' T'"'"" '^n-ad
«tant I looked upon v .ur ."" ""i fi'"' '■•
'"''a soldi.,. Ye.^"^Zj^- i..ap.t.ni.
'■"'^werenouffhforine-' '"°™ " •"'•e'T
4fS"::i,.rn^td' ''''•- ^H-
mJL u,.T'" «"•"' ••»"« -o""i
love me? ' yoti have Itarned to
re,S':r''^rri;r"'? *"'""•• ^"" "f »r..at
""'j I been free- o' ^^'^r y*"' ""/■ vt
Aa for rank, yon are \ i^ •P"'*'' of th„ f
better. brav'er'^l.r:j'"'^,f' "ter than I.
tclav what a b« T [A"^'^''' l-ew unti
t'ire I am~weak a.,.! .,., . ^ ''I'fp.caMe crea.
-'■at I have done ■ '.:^'»S'"«" ^-"tor. 8^
'•a-e s. ven myself to uJr /"^ ^"ther, J
an htmourable^e. , :;,7'' I ''o "ot love'J
believes in mo T k •^''" ^'■"'ts me an.l
""'l-e how'lki;''';;'rb^,bted my Cord
*be„ he hears this-,^!) , ° ^"'-""^ he.
oan despise me as Fd.".!- ''*""''« ™««tl
"«ele8. wishing we han^"* "'^"^'f- ' ^ » =1
r'ation.as^oif «..*"l".!''r'net. Our.* I
oiioe and for ever "'L/'""'' .?= "• parrmir At '
a"v «ooo man a rej.'.d.. " "*•* Worthy „/
i
1»
LAl)^ KVKI.YN.
Hhc extiin(l.-(l lur lijjht hiind— the othrr
,-(.ver.-<l lier lage. 11" fp<'l<« "<> ^onl ; lio ,
raiHoi tlio hiiiid sliu oxtoinle.l to lim lip«. It
was hi= silent ailifcU A moim.iit latfr, bikI
(ihe w iiM alone. Siio Htood tliere lotip, ri^titl
and ftill. The riiiKm« of tlio (liiiner-l.ell '
•rouBcil litr ; the liiart hrrakH, hut wt- in Ht
diim. She turned int'chaniciilly, and
walked away. At the nan.* iimtant a rfciim-
hent iiyuro laixcd itHcll from th<- wilderiifM
of ivy and tai.^h'd ttTii and roues hcneath
tht) window. It «a» Vivian Tn-vannance,
th( rv \>y the nn-riHt accidunl, and who had
heard every word.
CIIAl'TKR X.
IK TUB TESTS or TUB O^PSIESi
The tnnn who called himself Colonel ^
Prnniiiinnd niomitcd liis horse and rode,
iway fn.m tlie lodgcfjnte. whitiier lie i
„.-ither knew nor car.d. Nuvor heforo— ;
no not when d-Kjmed to a felon's deatli for
the niunlcr ol KathlcMi O'N'pal— nr.t when '
the woman he was to '\ed, the coronet he
should have worn, the friend who should
have Vjcen as a broth«r, were-all »like faisn,
•nd loHt to hiu)— had ;he bitterness at his
heart hcen so deep and de.vtly u now. I-.t
at twmty we lovehut liphtly, and thouuh
our hearts are well-nigh broken to-day,
Yonth and Hope heal the wound, and we
smile and eat our dinner to-morrow, and
postpone suicide and denpair to a nioreauspi-
eious season. But at forty, with buoyant
yonth behind us, love is deeper and sorrow
•tronger, and not all the coll.-ge of physi-
cians can heal the wounds the winged god
inflicts. He rode on, through the starry
May night, whither his horse chose to go.
lie had' given up everything in his lost love
for this plighted bride of another— the hope I
of the pa-At twenty years, the vindication of
his honour, the eternal resignation of h>8
rights. Gerald De-niond he would not have
spared. Justice to the utmost farthing he
had come piepared to wring from bim, wh'^n '
Morgan should befouiid and make contessioii;
but her father he could not injure— it was
•imply impossible. The disgrace that fell
upon him muHt blight her life forever—the
i-ist retribution that would give him back
his birthright would bow that queenly head
loreTermore in sorrow and shame. No I As
be h»>l come, he must return- as he had
liTed, he must die— nameless aud unknown.
• For your sake, my love— my love !' he
mnrniureil, inwardly, 'your father— even
He had -iddcn for hours : his horse falling
Ume WHS the first thing that awoke hini
from his semi-tranc'. He di»mountfd an(!
ex imined tlie auimal ; it hai! cast n shoe
and walked lame. Ho glaiiceil around h..
Far away, twinkling nmimo the trues like
will-o'-the-wispi, he caught the sparkle of
'*'''(;'ip»ieB!' he thought. 'Wei!, at there
appears to be uo village near, I wdl try
tluni.' ,
He led his horse si 'wly over the turfy
heath The place grew more familiar as he
went on, and he knew it was half a-dozen
miles beyond the town, ami near the race-
course. The gipsies, who had congregated
tfir the rarcH, Imd pitched their tents here
among the trees ; the liglit ho had seen was
their tent-fires.
Around one tent a little croup were
ffatheied, aiida dinkey-cart stood near, the
driver perched on his seat as though warin}(
for a load. As Diuinin ma uto' d srazing, he
saw two gip^y men come forth from the tent,
bearing 1 ftwei n them, stretched on a rude
iiurdle, the lM)dy of a man. The soldier
watehed in wonder.
'Ik he dead?' he thought, 'andare^ they
going to bury him? By Jove, 1' 1 «ee!'
He strode forward at onco into their
nii.Ut. The men and women paH^ed in their
work to htare at the gentleman who came
amongst them like an apparition, leading
his horse,
' What is all this?* he demanded. '\V hom
have jou here, my good fellows?'
He looked authoritatively into the donkey,
cart. Two eyes, dulled with great pan,
gleamed up at him from an nnshaven.ghasily
jace— * f'**-"" '"" "^ infinite misery.
I ' Poor w retch I' the soldier said, inrolun-
tarily. ' He is not dead, then. Whafe the
matter?'
' Met w ith an arcident to-day on the race-
course,' a young woman said rapidly, com-
ing forward. It was the dark-eyed Re-
deinpta, the queen of the wandering tribes.
' He is of your people, not ours, though he
has dwelt in our tents and broken ourbread.
He will not live four-and-twenty hours, and
he must not die here with us. Your people
in the town yonder would tiiinU little o(
accusing the vagabond fipsi'-s of murder. So
we send him thither to breathe h f last. He
can speak for himself, and acquite us o!
blame.' Drummonil bowed his head gravclv.
There was a stately dignity altout thia
Zingara Queen that iiiiprei<>e '• him.
• How did it happen ?' he asked.
i 'He was drunk— he is always drnnk ; •
carriage-po'e struck I im and knoc ed him
i down. T'he wheels pasfed oTer him ami
broke both legs ; but the wound in the ieit,
from the pole, ia tl»e worst Tlmr
tliey
drnnk ; •
c ed tiim
Iiim and
n till' left,
Irore on aav i.
tokinghimr ^"'^ ^'"'^e Te jo„
better ,la^,. llX^ZVtl t"^'* '''"' '"
« Uvyor.^ ■" '"'*"' '"•'''. ho says, „„j
•Tl.at w« ,i„ not know 1 i. *"" ""'"•''
"" "P'-ak au.l .nay erion^^ '"n.«ejf_he
I^'iimmond bent ftt„/ •
•y« looked «S.r" '''7,- ^h" .lulled
^«t">» of hi, |,e„A . ' , •^'"''' the very
•"«' fi.tl., he kn.wi^ •■'"'■>'•''''•• "^'linL's
h.d left A-nenca o fi :.';LSl"--t"«' -n-' he
•l^V' <;"> Kathloe^, J ^ ,'^«" " '" '"'1 n...r
The keen black eye. o tl ''""^f"' •'
8«»rteW„t ove,"""."".™""""- 5l„r.
niiinein his en
cr'o^ed hi, o^vn-t '• J^" "'"f"' horror /
«n.gl.i,g .ry._a„,l t / " » choking
--;eh fell bi.k::!./;;,<^r.Tr-V^'^-''-
«nd the dawn of the luT \ ' *^""-n -iwav.
••'.Ny in the ea.K-.n skv Li ",'' "'■"■"in^ ^^a^
'Loi- 1 F{o,h.rio M^ I. t
S,>-'-h«:'^';5.<«^^
j;!!;;;;«h".e^oi;i;rlri;;:;';;,[-';ponded;..,.
-•'" yu know it . T , r ^ '",' "•■• ''vn.»
ir;h'rf->^-'«-"ar«i::,--
frf^'t :i^"^f,--',|«^Mh,roon,
^^''■-,01 Drum,,,,., I : "•" J'"-'! he
:;,^''''V he aX.r'--'''^' ''•"'■■• .0.
,7';'ien..«tho„';?^,'^;„,,';? n.....r
O -.".0-h/„'; •-,'^« •»« «W.y_ J ,^; 1,^
,""""» «vit.,hi,„. If v'l""""'""- •'*'•••
'"vo unythin.to .ay Chi'""" '""••«"«»
'colonel, he,t n,, Uin^Z.ull^,, 'T "•"■'^•''.
Tlio doctor hurr.vVl -^ '"'""t-'l--'
the roo.n of d. ath the i ""^ '"^"y into
'"'.t 'e threshold wi '. ,t'^V" "Jt him
conf,.->,„„ to n.akV h«. "'""I'*"'-: * !,« ha, .
*,'"' it on hi, Zl tS "'"' '-•"•""t^Ii*
.t:./or .vhic'h nn 1?" •^•J-'-nl'le .....r.
'Ta on
«a he
found
aemf.
'P' rn«
J^id
I .Il«ir„.„.| ever K, I ','"*'■
>a». cyoa Wanderad f- ••; ••^t-cor. Xne ' tu ' '-5» one*
I
I
I
06
I.ADV KVKI.YN.
Iiiiii, tnd preparcil to takp down the depo-
Nitioii ol tlie <lymg man. Tlio won! raine
vidwiy mill with Oilliculty, t>iit <lear »n<l
uiilifnititiiiK, fr»j€'zii,g tlio poor rector with
hoiToi- iia liu wiot<\
• It ii one mill tvi'Mity yeftm aj{o,' Mor»(aii
B«i(l— 'all, lieaveu it iieenia twwiity ceii-
turira -aniee I practiaitl n» atlonioy in
(Jioiiiarf, County Wi.klow, Ireland. I
T\iK» .1 voiinn man tin n tliuly, i.r llieie
alioiitn ; my name in WHliiiii Mirgm, ani
lam Ki.yliHJi liy Imth. I pi.i'ii eil my
pr<)fen«ii.ii m Cloutirf— I w:n l.un! "K"''^
lor Sir Uubirt Ynung, iloinjj well »u«T
amftnHiiii< money, ami hated, m moat land
a , i.tKare in Iiohind. Th.ri> waa a V"'i>iR
L'uliiit'.iepi. .•■ Kitlile-n N'eal by niune
» poor cottei'mljughtir, with whom 1 fell
in lovfl. She lauj? ed at me— sliu ntii-ed
to listen to ino~ahc would not bo my wif--.
8lie loved in her Inrn, one wlio dul not
care for liei—Lor<l K"deiic Dc»mond, oiil
■on of tlie Kiirl of ('lontarf, tho betrothed
Im-sbindof tho Spanish lady, Inez D'Al-
VttH'Z.
The rector dropped liiapen, nghant.
'It cannot be?' ho cried. 'Do yon
know of whom you xpeak ? Tho lady is
ftlivi- yet— (the is the Com toxp ot < lontart,
Tlu< woun le I man srhinod horribly a
shiiit'ly >ii i '•' . , , ,
• She uor.s l.y t'lit titio,' he said, 'llmuijh
f stnnifjlv doubt whctlior sne has any Icj^.il
ij.rlit to It. Tli.it Ins not hinc to do with my
-toiy, howRVcr. Knhli'cn would not listen
to iM'-, the odimiH Kn-'i.-h attorney, becnuso
«|,e w. ish ppod till! brilliant vonng Lord
Clontarf, with his lair woman's face and
blue .yes ; and he, in his turn, loved the
Spanish doniin.
' He was the darling of the gods ; they all
adored him — the women — fjhl and youn^,
for his Wauty and his brightness, while I
hat d him as I hatod the devil ; and Ins
cousin, (ierald iNsmond, hated bun »till
more. Don't drop your pen and stare 1 1
know OuiaUl l)f»inond isP^arl of Clontari to-
day, and your friend, very likely ;t'ut for
all that he is the mott internal villain out
• My good man 1 my good man V interpos-
ed 'he re< tor, in h(yror.
'Well, aont cry out V)efore you re hurt.
He is. though, for all that At last 1 got
Kathlaeii's father completely in my power,
and I usi d that power without mercy. I
drove her half-wild with fear. .She was in
blank despiir, ton. at the approach liig nup-
tials of Lord Kodriu and Donna lu.z. rtinl,
in very desperation she consented at last to
be my wfe. But after that promise she
met him— Bh« Inved hisn as d«vot«dU as
ever. I wa« mad with jei»lou»y, imd I had
very h<xhI cause. One d iV I iN«t her in ft
lonely wootlland place, on tue banks of a
narrow river. \Ve called it the Iwiun-'ary
stream. I charttd her with her falsity to
111. - hi T love .'.ir Uoderic ' 'e*niond. bin
eotild i.ot d.nv it - she ttlori. . in if,
' I have loved him all mv If —I will love
him till 1 'lie !' were her w r.n. * I do not
want to be your wife. Ilvou possess ono
-park of manliiieKs. you will fet Hie free. 1
tell you, as your wife, I will still love him.
I w. uld .iie'foi him— my be.iutitul darling •'
'Were those words not enough to madden
any line? I xe./ed a sharp-pointed stniie,
tint th.- doll himself t-ccied to have lahl
ready t< my hand, and, n. a paroxysm of
fury, I striii k her on the tiinphj - d hurltil
her head'Mig into the stieam. dhe sunk
like a stone. Oh, (Jod 1 I see her face nou .
as she looked her last on me— a smile on her
lips, her eyes bright with her love for him :
I left the' accursed spot. I was cool an 1
calm .nough then. I went straignt to her
fathi r'n cottage, and nsked for her. 8h
had been absent all day, he said, he knew
no where. S. arch wa» made. One of the
vill.age olfioials went 8trai;:lit to the spot It
was an old haunt of hers, and there we came
upon Lord Uoderic Desmond, drawing tho
dead body out of the water. I flew into a
frenzy of race— I saw my way clear at once
I laid hold of him and accused him of tl •
murder. He shook me off as if I ha
been a vi^er ; but vipers have then-
laiiL's, and bitterly he felt miiifl. That very
evening I met Gerald De-mond— his arch-
enemy too, I thought he looked at me
strangely. 1 had always distrusted him,
but I never feared him before. SomethinK
in his sinister eyei made me f« ar him now.
I had good reason.He summoned me down to
the shore, and there, alone on the san.is, ho
told mo he had seen all— he know me, a
murderer. . . , , i,
"I was on the opposite side of the si ream,
he said, "hidden in the thicket 1 saw your
meeting ; I heard your words ; I naw yon
strike the blow ; 1 (-aw vou fling her down
to her death, William Morgan, I can have
you hung as high as Haman at the next
"Biitvou will not," 1 said Wdly. I
was horribly frightened, but liomcthing in
his face gave me hope. "You wil' not, I
said. " You would rather hang your cou
sin." I cannot tell you what he said in
reply : it made even my blood run cold.
He had hated him, with man's d ectst and
bitterest hatred, for years— for his rank.
' which he covete 1 : for the woman he was to
wed. whom he coveted still mote. Ou one
eotuli
bisc(
"nil
Hit.
oil. ]
niond
my ijy
•K'ln I
oiirs 1
•ud 00,
Lord (
ami of
III order
^aiiiit, I
• tartiiig
cry.
The ,
''nstiiijii
feu Vfliii
tme V
' Tl uo I
the oatli
houod t(
punish til
as /i,. ,1,.,^
• /hit hi
hniig' (I.
ciie.l tlieo
' No, he
Was III ir.le
hti escaped
neanl „t |,j
Own mipre
Gerald Dt-a
play. Won
not have tw
<iyii'R hour.'
His voice
but he had
document.
laboured ; t!i
«" his t)irf)at.
'I s-e thca
hoarHely 'J^
•aw lima last
spoke to nio i
he IS dead. '
Colonel Dm
atood beside In
he said, slowly
A piercing ci
u>'"ng man sprj
' ilia voice
Clanged, hut hi
yon Lord Hoder
' Twenty year
»""'«■ Yon ha»
wron«. William
hour, may the n
»o .'
'^'••1 iiuht of a
W.Uy. I
nicthiiig in
wil' not, I
your cou-
ie said in
run cold.
I eptat *ii(i
IiIh i-ank,
n he was to
;e. Uu uu«
COtHlifioii Won 1.1 K ~~ -
.7 ••>*"(? »>r.aU, w.'a:"'"'""■^•-*'•
I- . Cio,.,„rf. o, .louliM trblT *'"•'*'•'•
^DV KVKt.Yli.
, n,e horrifie,! rector r •. . ' imV. '*""'« '"i Ik«U.~. n .""'**'• '"Vt-r.
tlUp
''- -"' or: ni;^ "'•'••'-■• true. o„ "'n""""^' '"^''''^
th a I . '. '" "la
*• 'H- <lts.rv,.. ' ^ irailor «ud ptrjurer
tf' • 1 llave i.ear.l th. .7. :~.*'" "Ot
^'■•'tiutT ;^.r:":'^^'
«nrl
•■•"•nrwiion. ' '"' » IxJW to li,, <^^
, ' Oh, certiirilv I T
"T l)l|ll„„t
»"^ar.l o, hi,,, or s/en h,> ' " **"* ''"« ^'^'t
C(; rind r)ri.n,».„ . ' "'"*''• ""* 0* UnutteraJ.U
•tood beside liiru. • IVpT. ' •■•■ ^"'no and ' l>. *■ ',"•• '"toiicen-al,
r'v-ena-
dym^ man sprang alL,re"rfi; *''"''**'»' '■''•/br.Kg'r^^^^^ ter.ified at^.n',
««'-.«. You have EemTw"'^"'''' «'at
.''ron^. William MStnTut i,?f "*' '*'"«'•
J;";r. may the Kreat^od "fo'';.t".".^"P'-^'n,e
•■««'i>; the,ewerol,"tthr-*' "'" '^"^^ina
'" evening _th, l/' ,',^'Yf.°n tl.ia partS-
^;'^'e. and Lop,, cU tl^?'*? E^'"' AJI,e.
— ^^.. „„, „, rn.aaanrem. I * "f^" '"Btrume m fP •*• **' down to
'- ""H-..„e.t|oy fl..hedo..tu'a^-K,-t:^£f^^'^
I
9S
LADV EVKLYN.
one of tlie French wiindow* and stepped out
upon the lawn. .
The lifiitlcnicn linCTPd long ovfr thfir
wine iMi.l walnuts. My li'dy w.iMhiilf-aslcep
over her hi^li cliurrh novel e.e th.y eiitcie.i.
Tlie keen eyi'* of Troviuiniuiec nnsf^e.l lii«
litfie liidy at the CimI ^lanc; : at Ihe stcoml,
tlic> cinglit siuiit of a sIiikIit, HtatHy
figure out there on tl.e moonlit hiwn. An
instant later, and he « Jis l).v lier siilo.
SI e yiiinced np.not Btai tle.l.not surprised;
she had expected iiiin, bnt the l)eautiliil face
in the stiiilight ,o(di.d paler tlmn he had
ever seen it. i i • i
• I am plad yon have come, she saul,
slowly. ' 1 have much to say to you to-
ni(.'ht.' .
He I owed, and ofTrred lirr hm nrm wifh-
oiitawuid. Insilenee they w.-.lk.'d dnwn
between the copiur lieeclie.s, out of sight ot
the lump lit windows. ^
' I h;ive a conh asion to make, bepin
Lady Kvelyn Desi.ion I, and tin; fremoi in
the clear voice alone told how liitterlv pain-
ful and hunuliiiting tiint c(nfe8S0n
was. 'The conlessio.i 1 owe to you
as my plichted husband. When 1
promised to try and love you, I lionestly
meant to keep my word, I n^ive kept it—!
have tried, ami— failed 1 When yon ask
me upon vonr retun — ah, such a shoit time
ajfo— if ft'iy oif! elseh d supplanted yon, I
■corned to answer so ] r. ] O terous aouestn n,
my heart was free a.-4 when yon first asked
for it. In mv wickd pr.de I thoueht my-
■elf superior to sucli base weakness, and— I
hare bteii properly imnished. I am the
weikest and falsest" of all wuinen !'
There w.as a piuse. They had stopped in
their walk, and sh • cov. red her face with
botli hands with a pissionate sob.
Never before had she «eemed so near to
him, so womanly, as in this hour <if her con-
fcs-^cd weakness. And yet— was it a creat
throb of relief that set his heart phinp;inK in
« most unwonted way for that well-tmined
orcan ?
'1 am to understand, then,' he said, in
his low, linpcring accents * that the heart
Lady Evelyn Desmond cannot give to me
has been liestowed upou some mora fortun-
ate man ?' . , ■, l
* Oh. forgive me! fore I v« me I I meant
to do riglit— I tried so liard— heaven knows
I did! I rcpecteil you— admired you—
■iteemed yon -'
< Kvei ythius: but loved me ! And you de-
mand your freedom now ! 'A'e'l, I>adv
Evelyn, I orce no woman to wetl me ; I set
you free. Only I made the same miHtaUe
voudid yourself. I fancied Ia Rose de
ere;itnto all too Ini^ht and uood f r hnm.in
na urt's daily fooil— an aiiuol, tli hem of
wlione jrarment 1 vas uiwor;liy to touch.
,\nd I hiid— will you pardi .i my ruiienwss in
siying it?— a liuiMied and pi-rlei't i;o(iuetie,
who llings aside n lover or a tiileil lionc|uet,
wli<'ii they grow triste, wit equal high-l.ied
indifrerence ! M 'y i ask the numo of my
fortunat. — sute. s.sor?'
The most centle of g.Mitlemen, the m' st
eourteous of courtiers, ran be mer"ile-sly
■ •ruel when they choose. Trevann.ilioe would
not have laid a rude linger on the coarsest
has that < ver dishonoured the name ot
wimian, yet with his soft, slow woriU ho
, oulil stab to til" core the jiriud heart of the
l:idv beprnfessrd to wi r.sht).
She looked i;p, all ' er Castilian fire flash-
ing in her great < yes and growing rcil iu her
before pale elieeks.
•Yon do well,' she said, liiying her right
han<l on her throbbing bieiist, ' to lemind
me how false, how miserably weak I have
been. 1 deserve yi'iir reproaches, but you
might have 8pare(i me tl nt one taunt ! 1 'lo
no .nsk for freed' ni : I ask for nothing but
I, lit yonr forgiveness, if yon ar>- f.rcat en-
..n(;h to '- -Mit thiit. Hxelyii Desmoini does
noFgiv r wor<l one hour, and witiidiaw
It the U' All I hive pr<inii!-ed I am ready
to fulfil— to be your wif • ti -morrow, it you
dnnmnd it ; and the honour of the man !
wed, whoever be be, will be dea>er to mo
than my Hfe. Not f<ir my ov\ n sake, bnt for
voni-". have I told you this. Do you think
I do not feel the bltUr dejfr.adation of such a
i-onfessi' n as this? Do you think you can
desni-ic me half as deeply as 1 despise my-
*'elf?' . , , .,
He listened to the inipnssioned words with
a face of emo'ii.nUss calm.
•Anil t'le man who has supplanted me,"
be sai ', hi* low tones x straiice contrast to
the snpprcsseil passion of hers, ' is the friend
I truste'l, the iiero " witliout reproich,"
Colonel Druniiiionil !'
She turned from him and hid her face, a
cry breaking from her lips — such a ery of
shaip, cruel pain as lie could not Imve wrun;j
from that haughty breast had he struck her
down nt his feet. Ho wa« at liers the instant
after it was uttered.
•Oh, forgive me!' he crii ' M om»
wretcli — a merciless brute ! .v rn, drar-
est, look up— flpuak to me— pardon me, if
you can I'
She obeyed him, looking np, ashen white.
' I desei-Vfc it !' she answered, huskily.
' But spare hiiu ! I will nevr look npoii iii«
face again. And tlie blame ii all mine, not
his'
• No msn ■■ to blame for loving you I Dear
the miBt
*I am •
( 'n, flr»r-
rdoa me. if
• hM'fo,. . 1 *-oill(l Dot keen U
H. .-. Hortlly'; ,^; .^ ",';;, -"'"-l silently"
. She ,irop,.e,| her ,\" 1~?'" ?' ''
•n While an.aze. W^u;/"^i '"»'*«'' «t him
nance talku,^. , r uarsi 1 m ')'*" ''■"^^«"-
, * Two lu.urs an.0 r.,i, •" * •'■■«•"" ?
»nd,na,|vertentiy plavri f " ^'''''''-'vs.
'• it not ? I Lean """''*'"' >'"""»vn
•P"t-I cor.hl not st"r I I *?'''''!""■''' ''' t''«
a'ul „ol,],.sr. the .noj 1, "' " ''« l>"'e,t.
And. Lady Kv,-!,.,, f '""'''"' of wo„.,mi <
P-.ise. Ihono-r'-vo,'::,^;:" V" i^-
Rol-ert L>r..mn,ondr;In be ;.'■% ''"■''.• "'"'
est to ,ne while li,o lasts • ""'^"^ '^«-'--
S-'estlll StO'ld |ook,,,ry' ™* 1 • ■
Por of pale a,n,«e - ^'^'T, '»* '""' >" that «tn.
yon sooner?' she said n, i} "'^' 1^'" W
Dearest Udv EJiu-r';"" '^ '"''' ""'".
f P«y Reden,pta'8 vVonl8^,? L'"""'^ ' »''«
'lay we met. a„d ayai 1 f " I ' "".""' "'••'t
the race-course »• ** * * '^* ''""'• Uck, on
gouI.ri'^e.p'oK'i/j:?''-*^ ..r,,or,
V'^u:self. and yet_I ]o^-l^ ,' ?" '"''•"ahle a«
and I left her! She ^.j'" ' ' ''»«•' ''e^
Pprhap,. but «; far above r""' '" '" ^»"k.
V. t.e as yonder .tar .trui' i •>?';"" ■'""'
y.o were to be mv I.W ?» " ■' ^*'' ''er. for
Apple, forwlT^m ha ah7nV"', 'l'' ^'"''len
««t in the realm wo Id ^""'''■t' °f ""• hi,,|,.
-roneta. Bnt "„r'we arrbS^^''^'' *''"'••
•nore. I will return to my!, tt A'" '•^« ""c*
-avou-yo«wUib,eja,?J^r£'-;
th..mii. that flTtt^r; :;",«,";'■'«• »-?
WouW ever li.^te^ t^ b.n^'^ ""l") '''<• Pr -le.
*«-n>glit. For you. l\^J^ *?, ;7« what I am
r«tumTum"ooS"' ^"" '"■"^•- ' «''"ali we j
I-ADY EVELYN.
89
^'' " 'hto He n.r/ . '"*'•"•' n).,r«.
*'"'what waa o'^^':^^,, ,'«-''.• ' her. w.
ways. Farewell^ Q^t-,''';"'"" '"'f"'*""
•''«'»• yon,' • ^'^•y Evelyn, „,j,j ^^^^
n-lTon'cLTtre'' p,";:,L\'"' "f' »'« -t-pod
I aiewcli '• .i,„ .
•P-'-f. «..d flMte7„.^ 'i';' /,■■"':' '"-n like"
n>oonl,tave„n., ;,t T/^Tf- '«" "l""" m the
consoler-and Ipimp, •^'•"""•'-•n...,', be^t
wondered why th,nJ« . ''" """". m.d
"•■'■•■"w or joy t|,,.,t m it ;/;' ,",'"""''• '» wa.
''Mit at iiia free,lom ''^ ''"* '^»;«"»Uut
CH A I' J Kit XIL
'SOU Ta« ftExn,
The amber hn7f> of tu t
i<^>[^>t nrnm,n,.„d rode? "'■ '""•'"'"J-, a.
''« i''""e face to fad M M^,.*"''"»"'^-Kate,
nance. '«-« with V .v,a.. Xrevu,;!
;''er/yora;l;';'rtrX "?"" ^^'---I.
X*"-''^ ''^antothinl ' . ^, «V« 3"" '"y
America without te" ''^"' «o, « o(r to
K»-^'»-''y. A. for th, otr*""'"* °' ""vinj
«•■■;. too abanrd to l': t u^^ •''"^^' ^ ^"«w i?
^ U hat other sro.y?-'
a. er of the •■ fJevil's ol°' .."'l, «^«-* .t.ng
'n tl'e honae got hold of . ^''* ^Tvanta
s tlut-women lH-lJeJ« h ^ "*""atter
•««•!. V-I fear Ladv Fv!'*"' '""'<^» "o
heanht.' '***'J^ tvelyn ...ay fcav.
Vivian Tre'.n^Ltl"', --e f ';'• ^nVnd.
''ami u-,th a «n,j,e. " •"••••t^^l'e.l fortj, ,„•,
i know all ' T »
"■«» . prl» .'or'.l'iK.r.'; '"■' ' ^■«" l'»v.
'7;:zrr» -•'•";■•"''''""'«''''•'
'All iiat an end h»t«
"nijagenient by mufua !!" "•"' '''•«>'ve<l
fe««ed all with. " ...l''' .««>"««nt. She ^?,
;'^"'e yo„ in the iCt !. '• "■"•• I -io not
"'■» '^'"-ing '>«upouyo«V";L':'' "'"■•'"'
»- /"Mr virtuoua endea-
100
LAUY l.VELYN.
Tonni ! For mys.-lf, I return to America.^
I finfl I have left my heart behind nn; there.
'With—' , . , .u
• Yes— with Mignonnette. I thtnk the
little one cares for me. in epite of her scorn
»nd ilefiaiice ; and 1 know iiow nui. Ii I care
(or her. Perhaps you had best ro in. Only
from your own lips '— bitiiIiuk "will Lady
Evelyn believe you are alive. Wliom ave
we liere? Ah, the rector.'
Mr. Hall anie wlnrliiiR up m his p'>ny-
ehaise, Willi a pale and alarmed visage qui e
remarkable to see. He had come on a nio.-,t
anpltasant errand. The deposition of the
dead vagrant was in his pocket, and to Lord
Cloiitarf's influoiice he owed his present
highly eligible living. How w;.s he to face
his patron, and accuse him of uiis array ol
horrible ciinies?
Tiie three men entered together. Ine
rector and Truvannance wont into the
lihrarv. „ , , , , ,^
• You wilt find Lady Evelyn where I left
her ten initiutis ano, in the picture nailery.^
Go and tell her you are not almgether kiUeo.
r c oo'iunel very readily obeyed He
sprang up the stairwav— passed along the
t, (.Olid h-all on bis way to the picture gallerv.
But ere he reai.hed it, a near door opened,
»nd I.ndy Evelyn herself stood t-tfore him,
with a white, wild face. A eecoud lat2r, and
ihe i'iul recoiled with a low <ry.
' Tliey told me you were dead. They told
Her words died away— the man she loved
held her clasped in his strong arms
•My darlint; !' he saiil
'my
I'nrling !
And you care for me like tiiis? Oh, my
love ! I have come back to you— not to s:iy
far.'well, but to claim you aa my own, to
hold von here foievermore.
' You scoundrel, you audacious villain !
A harsh, stern voice broke in upon hm ini-
p.assioned words ; ' release my daughter this
instant.' , , ,
The Earl of Clontarf stood before tnem,
white to the lips with amaze and rage. It
was on the threshold of her m-thers
•partment Lady Evelvn had met him— the
earl chanced to be with hi* wife on one of his
rare, ceremonious visits, and in leaving, had
conn upon this unexpected tableau.
His daughter, deadly pale, strove to re-
lease herself, but the * audacious villain
held her fast. He stood, draw up to his
full, kingly heigiit— th. ae vivid violet ey.s
the peer had such horrible reason to dread
flashing upon him their blue lichtum^r.
' We part not, sir !' the soldier nvd, in a
Toice that rang—' not at the .omma d of
ten thousand iath'rs 1 I love your «i..ugn-
ter. and she loves me. Vivian Treveunauv*
has resicned his claim—her haml is free.
Her heart is mine, and no power on earth
shal sever ns. Not yours. Gerald Des-
mond.' . . 1 1 J
Lady Evelyn locked at ler lover ; looked
at her"fatlier, sMien pale. The former stood
'a king of luble Nature's crowning —grand,
stronc. fla-hing eyed, niaj stic, the latter,
ghastly white with an awful. umUtered
dread, had staggered back, and stood blindly
staring. . . .L I •
That voice ! that face I those words I
Was lie going mad?
• Who are you,' he cned, hoarsely, put-
ting forth his hand as though to hold him
off ' that .lares speak to me thus ? " ho
ate you that speaks with the voice and looks
at me with the face of the dead ?'
The rep y en the lips of the man he nd-
drePSt d never wa« uttered : for, in trailing
white robes— white as a spirit herse'f-Inej!.
Countess of CI n(aif, Hiond upon the thres-
ho'd. She had heard that voice, silenced
lor twenty long eyes— and she had risen
and come orth. Her great black eyes were
upon the face of her daughter's lover with a
wild g'are for one awful moment— only for
a moment— then, with a b.ng, shrill cry of
reeognition— ' Koderic, Roderic f— she reel-
ed, au.i fell heavily at his feet.
H" caught her as she touched the ground.
Her daughter had echoed her cry, but (ier-
!ild Desmond stood rooted to the spot. He
knew all at last. It was no dieam.uo fancy,
MO chiince resemblance— but his cousin,
Roderic Defmond who stood before Liin
from the dead 1
CHAPTER XIIL
THE VESGEANCB OF EOliERIC DE.SMOSD.
That wild scream had been heard. The
uu ment after it was ntterci!, Trevjiiinau e.
Lord Clydesmore and Mr. Hall were on the
' What has happened ?' demanded the
master of the house. „ , , _ .
He might well stare Colonel Drnmmond
stood with the swooning form of Lady Clou-
larf in Kis arms, wh le my lord earl leaning
against the "all, was glaring before him like
a galvanized corpse ; and Lady Evelvn. pale
as a spirit, looked from one to the other,
from father to lover, still ' fur wide.'
Tlie calm clear voice of the American offi-
,.,.rboke he silent spell. 'Nothing very
cxtraoiainarv, my lord. This lady, iiia*-
ttmntiug to unit her room, fainted. With
your pe, mission. Udy Evelyn. I will place
hef up 11 the »ot*, youder, and l«ftv- Uer ■«
y. ur I'aige.'
H»
down
gazed
the w
8'> -saii
Tiien
L;idy
the nil
Her
had I,
Urn III I]
•llOllllH
making
'A \i
lively,
there.
'i'levii
ciiaiiged
W le till
iMecli;
on his in
his ev«s-
« I rn II j^rcr,
afier liio
poloue
' Vou w
nncj later
ha-c a V
fiiviid. '
L'.rd CI
«"d Drum
libiarv.
'O.id •
fiieii.l, whi
' Very !'
The hhra
an'irtiiipiif^
' P' vet curt.'
clii.ster o w
"f the writi)
sunset Has 8
in 111 tivja
nesin.,,,,! 8,.j,
"P*"" it. :i s I
w.iiting for |,
'ioiie)i'».,!„g,
f^ ■■"Pi'rfill,,!
sirau:/,. M|j„„|
He had |,,8f
ni"pl'. Imt he
"'•e'l A nitir
thouirli tliegr;
»»"» hf dead f,
"e»''r haunt li
•"f^re, and hla.
He Mas weat
miM.i j„,t „,^,
""laze. while hi
"]"», tall. Rtroi,
01 liH wroii.^rs, j
fir.it spoke, with
He cirried her -nfi.
I^'-'immon. , .;,„, '°'" «P"l<en. Kobe,?
*'',^!-- Air. 4„, ; yo'l'V.f '''"''" '"«
*'fifli.iiiical)v uifl. .1 VT ^'^'^'' peer.
«"" ''Iter all «|,all |,"^;' •'"""? '-VstcTy.
'••f"« n word ,u pvate' ;"""'• ^ '""*
/u'lwl.' P"^ate „ow „,th your
a- tl. J '^"'"-^"^'"'^
f"f-'. -I.e.. »he ,r,r;:r,^ .IpT'-''-^'^ t« hi.
l^'-rvr a.8ont ,IAi' r'^ IP*''''"^''-
^I'e i.i.rary of \Varl,e;,.k fTu'""*"*'''-
"' tlie «nt.„;,.t?|,e, t1^:' "^»''y over one
r^-'n-"..! sank ,loH-n i^ul .f'*"*' ^'"'^^'l
«P<.'" >f. :. 8 foreh.a 'bo . )"' '"» «^ll'"«-8
d;-P"'- fill. i him. .nuE" ''"'-* ''"Jf
tl'onirh the grave h«,lVi "J' ''*• «-"'s>"evas
""■;<•«. n.,.l blast tl„, ,r, ', "« »"' ,'!-\v.t„„e
H..- was weak m 7 '""«•' of 'us l,fo
j"'t now. III 1,,^ ; . ^ "oiiea m
or I.M UT„„.,. i7 ' "^f ^- "• tlu- very Unci
i:^ EVKLVN.
)
No !' fii- «*i '""ve the room '' *
«iil .end you from fh 7' " ''"^"-""t thai
'i/voncJa7Z'''-p*eto the town'
'•"Ms the death-berf o 1 "" '"^'^'sr. He
M"rt'an f ^*^ <'<'"feMion c/ Willi"*
i''5:f'"cL:;:;:'ft "rr ?»" "-^ '--
-u.nWnumph 4, «:;;./
t'-e^o.K:dnSdp..p.^Mr.r,an^-
«";. never k, sita e ! V,,,' n"""^ * ^''v.
^ '-tt.Tri«httl.anIr i';iV'''''-':«.'ivo ''^
for ,ny lord earl.' ^ **'" »^^ad it alou,
f^Ijyfi'^'f.iS^^lj'P ;'- rnper.the
»"to oiHtanf con,p!i,,„,e ^ *""«'«^ hin.
fl;nffas,de vour tool „');,,„ ^■;'7''=, •"'-i. 'to
VVr;kI„w Bay a-^:": ':::'■' •'■'^^'--aterao?
i fiat was yonrmictake V
hardly as ace. rate as ,,!, J*""* """ ««
"'y worthy kinsnian Tl ' I - "^"^''•""^■.
""e'-gpod w,ll for ;nv he '!'''' '*'""^'' '^'''^
'"•pan by an inch or two I' I "i '*^'"'' ^i' '
""hand to rescue me fro'"' h ^'''"'^ -"•
Hick low Buy. Von ,.' . '* ^^ '"'>••« of
foster-brother: Mik^M,;^^ "'y ^^'t'-f..
;'"! VM. n.t? He re cue ''''''/'■'''' '' '^te,
f" Australia ; he v. v J T ' '"^ 't-ok n«
•--ath-fron/the bale ;:"''" <''« fe'-n"
"'e man who had bee', trme""""'' '" ""'^'^h
S.n.ethinghkea m .an e«r-,n i<.
•P/ of the eowen,,^, ,„„" ;'<=''P^'I t»<e livid
'''■fore the lightniat ZnT i" *>■"» '""
''■'•o. puiii
P.osp:,'"?-?.^2'«.^';«ve pa,se,! ; y,„ ,^,.;
?""• : wealth rank f^""* *«" w,th
a"' « wan.Ierer ov'r,e '",?'• ' '' 1'"
f«'t''i".nan. ortru t,„ , ''■'"■'''• ^'•'»'''-""
"•"""nemyhono," lerert"""- '^■"" '-ok
~-t»'e V Oman I loved m '"" *''a» I'h
^^v.nrto,her. It i;myt;nlV ^ ''^"«"'
102
LADY EVELYN.
l1
n> voice rang, l.iti eyes (las he.l. The
Htr.ckc. urutcl.lefoie hiiu 8e«ii,e.l tosl.nvel
„p M. the Hoo.chinR Uanie ol that l.Khtuu.e
* "'"nioM in my hand the r«P" .","** ^''*
.tril. von of vv^^ath, a.i.l rauk, a... Imuours,
au.l all y.m l'"l'l 'l*-'"'^^', "" '■"!''• ZuU
mine to .1. .ve ym, forth f.<.:n t ■:« l"";*'^^."
tl... s.;ornan.lhatie.lof all ''«'«'"• ,V"'
w.ff'8 love you m viT ha.l. N<.. <>n'l' 1'':h.
n.oii.l. that tnnn.phii«ver was youts ! Ui
your l.n.l.l day, Nv.th wi !f leAgu.s of ocea..
Uw.rn U8. Hhe l.ve.l u,. Bt. 1. ^ onr
da.<Klit.T8 lu'art is n.ine to-.l y-that pr.md
and .....rlfBh .lau-hter. «ho. when .he lcar.,8
th<- truth, will abhor the man she once ,
calleil father.'
A crv, like the cry of a wounded animal,
hroke from the man before him at this last
liitter blow. . . „ ^
•Oh, Cod!' he said. 'I deserve itl But
l,ave lueicy. Ito.leri- Desmond 1'
• I le:t Amevica.' Kodrric D-:smond wcut
on, st.raas Ri.ad nuanthus, 'to seek n.y
ven.eauce on yon : nay, not venncance-
vrinu' the tr.ith from your guilty heart 1
conn- here-1 met your daugl.tei-the [iioi.
,1'Alvaie/, of my voutu af;a.u. and from the
n,«t mom. .1! we met I loved her. 1 i'^.t lovo
made me l-hu.l an.l mad. She was bound to
tuoth^T ; hhe could l.e n<.thinL' to m.^. \ et
foihersak.- 1 rc-solved to pare the wretch
whox.as h.r father. I sniu" Kathleen .8
i„ lieaven ; no venjieancc will ui.ij: her to
,,,„.xv. lM,r n,ys.lf,Ic.n die as I have
lived, an honest n.an at hast. 1 will leuv.
th.M"'--^*--- •• IwdlleavehMU toOod andlK-
iotheman she is to wed. And I would
Imve kept my word ; I would have ROue and
iHt my veoc-ance behind, hut I'lovidence ,
hiia „ilh-.l ;.„th.isvise. ]5y n.eiestaccnl. nt
Icame up . Mor^.an. w,nnded.dy,n2- al{
„,. known, i s.t i'. the room while he ma.to ,
,„s dyii.K declaration to this cloruyman. ■
Wh-n he ceased. I bent over him. Like yon.
1,Uev(mr wife, he knew me at once. His
la.r „ord was my name. My reve,,>..e came
,„ ,„.. when I' was leavinu it. W hat is there
t<. h.nderin. • r. akinp it in full now ? hor
all the dc, ,, ,o deadly wionp von have
do..« me-lor hon.mr lost, lor 'athlt^n
,„„rd.red lo, ,ny father's heart bvoken for
ynv In lb. t.d<cn from me. for a life blasted
o„d made .!.■ date, for a name and memory
tuniHlu-l wnh dark dishofonr-this paper
pive* nic lull and comi)lete atonement at
la t '.'
Adroa.lnl cro.-xn again bnrst fiom the
breast n the tor.nied man. On Ins lace lay
the le-'hi "••■" 'f •'»''^'''- '^"'' ^'"^ muscles
*:onvuUiv>l> l>. b-i- ''• t''-'^ '-"' "^
sntTered as Roderic Desmond had never done
'" He stood looking at his prostrate f<^,
while tne eveninc shadows d. epei.ed al.ont
them, nnd the soft Kimmer twi luht fe;l.
A change came over the fixed. st«rn t,re o
his eves the pnmd.ind splendi.l ace of
Vvelvn floating before him. unnt.eialdy s- 't
Tml tender, with the love she hud learn, d
"■""Forjonr dan,htei V sake. I would have
spared you one... (i.n aid Desmond, bor y.ur
d.uuhter's sake. 1 t.ake my vengeance now-
*''He' lifted the paper-the confession . f
William Movgan-aml held it m the blaze of
'''GeS£mo„d^rra.,K to his feet. with,
pre^^t ly- *-''ye'-''-'l I'V the rector hn^
both ^t.M.d roote.l to the ground, whilst the
mner sbiivelied and scoid.ed to ciudots.
^r<o.leric D..mon.. pronnd tue charn d
fruL'ments under hiH heel.
•\-ou.8i:.' he.a.d.tnm.ng toMr. HaK
• who hennl the dymp man conf. ss the mnr-
dcr. tor which he afterwards -w<,re my lie
.wav will domejn.tce before the world.
1 forgave Wdliam Morgan, in his dying
l,oui, KatMeen'sumiderer: surely, then. 1 cat.
rejo all personal revenge. Your ciimes
VH known^on earth to but us thrce-for
;our danphter's sake. wlmBC h.ait that kno.^
IdueWOnM break, tin. ^^'-«•l'l ^I'^'H . ever
know Mr. Halt, lor his own sake, will e
allcieetlv v,.n..and I-I leave you to a
venKcance m.gbtur than any on earth. My
evil riL'hts 1 shall claim and take from yoi.
nml v.mr d-.imi.ter shall be my wile, an 1
Countess of Clotarf—'
, Hn stoppcMl abruptly. The man he ad-
I diesB...l had siippe.i from his chair and fallen
' piostrate on the llonr. , • i i :.„
I The rector spninu forward and laised hirn
! „,, Tin- Oninip. tint vcigeaiice to which
i Ro'deric Desmond had kit him had stiicken
i l,i„, down ..almost with thevsonls l-o' the
: ...cond time he had fall n in a tit of paralysis
a dreadful sight !
CHAFIEK XIV.
AFTKR TWENTY YEARS.
Lady In»z Desmond lay loiif; m that deep,
death-like swoon. The evening shadows
(ell thick about them ere the great, dark
eves opened to liLdit and life once more.
lierdiULditer hung above her; the g' lUie.
lovm- lil's fondlv kissed her own. N\ itU
the first glance into that pale, young face,
memory returned. Slowly and paiufuLy fm«
siru-gicd up iiud ga-cd. around.
»?re:i
did
fiOII.
M
mofl
• Vo,
Jin..-
yonr
fir.>t I
'S
»a\v f
ti.iiik
I..0I; n
Jiis vo
nioii(i-
nli.1t i
H"nirn(
• live?
me, l\
is he?"
Lilly
rr"(|,f.|.
ever lie
inv dvii
L .1,-
•^fv ,
'Ali is
•nd me.
nio ,1. I
Her ni
Jt!s«r-,I il,
« out In
all r
' That
met liii)) I
hi- brnuirli
re'iinipil.
tliink I I<,i
I. t'.fi, «aw
r ctiirL' yn
— papa fn
dna.Ic.l I,
JiOow littl,
liiio\e. U,,
and I love I
'And l,c
MVith I,
lovi'lv iace !
Just tln'ii ,.;,
Jyii CI-, gsed
evp'-ctiiiL' to
the twi! p!if,
paler tlm'., I,,
' .My d. .ire
' nn .neci.leni
alarmed ; In
hns li.id T ^j.,.,
J '^ -I! r h
laiut : tlie lar^
'.!!!''7° r 'IT-' ''•• "fce,?.
LADY El'ELVN.
)
'■"'". nv.-lyt, »
^V«, it
Rorx- tw,..,fv l„„t. y,.„;^ l;""'"'"^-<l«aU.and-
fc»tr„oine.,tu„n.et.' "^ ''y the
' No, no, no '' f n,7.. T . ,
more res.nJ.ln.u'.e j? J"'''= '^''•-'I. ' it i. no
»n»^ Jl.„l,.,ic I)rs,,K.„ I inH,'! V'V"^;"'''' ^
t'.i"ktl.,.reco„M ie,n ''• ''■'>•""
':'''<'^.tme,vi,,,,is:v '''p:;r;: '"'^"•^''
"•''.If if. .nftor ail thor/v,.? « / '^. ''""^''-'er.
n;;;.v.i>-...«.,;,,;[T,.,ri''i.'::r,ir„::^
i^'.Mn,,.z n»Wr,l a M„t err
w.ni,o p.io.:.:,,''v,'"".''t";,"*''"-''""'
« ""t ),,„,. ,„v ,|,.,rli,u/ ,^1 , " "'" "'"I
«JI" *>*"" ''a^elaiovvM liim-all,
* Timt nil in I „t liftlf. Af. Tm..
I- t"". Mw tl,o «-,n,lM f ii/^'^* ""•<fint'.
— Piipi snu- it, tr,o\.„ V ~' '"■'"''■fi
'J'-a.ic.l l,i,„.' Of l.'^n • """"-• "•■•""-
I^"""-. H-i.all (I ;, !'•,", "'" '■'^k to
• >*-ll.e loves vn';:.''-'^'"^'"''^^-'
lyn n-. 8SP,| ti.e roon. -, '^ '' '"■- J'-^'-
VP"ot„.. to «oe :: v^' ,;;rj'-' *'--'""••
f:^^.^:..H..o^Jp:--J-ry.^__„.
-Hh .trang,, .u„,,d i,,,,,.,^ ^^^^ ^^
'He Han had a ahurk ^t
^«-'l. l"-eathle«.|y ?|5ave v"'" V'"'-' "••
cause?' ' "**« you Ucu the
t"-« who /;:s,r '''!• ^'""- '»'»■«'
My ';. lov..,l. .1,. yo„v"' '""'''*' ''"»*■ it.
'Joun.PK,.,i,,,icI),.,n,„n,|,.
-'■■»" to i,i. I,,..,;,", i:,„;'' '"' "'•" cio«,
And niy inotlier?'
'Ah, vonr njother !'— hi» f j
<•'•«''• HO little- Mh-.t «..! 1 ' c» flarKonwl
'"^'•- yo.. first for tl uT N,v S'"'"' I *,'""' ^
P.-'«t~of the xvo.nan I lov.r '.V'^ '^'"^^
7".-. uho i„ved „ ,Z[T '';■"*-"'»'"'
;;' '' <'-u.^'ht.r, . H.n,'v" ','':,";/ 7''-'-;.
C Uther!^'' ""^ '— ^-='::^:
K..:^:::; £'.s,'^^,-y -other, v..
" y"" tim.k. Lt he „' f ."T" '"" *" ''''««
paulon I.er-lor ,ny «ake '-^ ''^''- <-''"«>, ai.d
"ei^im.,Iti.epK..,.iinp'lip^
•'-'«*- ^:ah7t::]'.t >"'"*''•-''•
your "m..her-.8 „'ii '*"' *^"- ^'«-'<' '"e to
I'MiK sl,a,io«-«. for II ,n t' "^ the^aih.
"''-«''t -hereshel^yf J'tro::r' ''^"■'""
'it .l.nc J'
j;:tlS-:Pj>^^-Her,tan.,t.r.,
-""'••Ix. 'Oh, .^'~ ';'','*''''' P'^'-iy
''"<« ■■'Sl'addw (roM, t i' • "'"' "'' «d
f"-- the p.,t-,t w H I . r , ; '"■"'■^ '" "'""e
^"■■'y - '"e thoM^i t of ' ■^'^"■•^ '"''«1
"'«= tran.-V, ht-auty J/. ' '"^"'J
««»!. nnd of her^.J"'"'.'"" Hh,.,^
104
LADY EVELYN.
miiplncr. She liaJ l)een false boymd the
fulnity of \vi'iii;i:i.
Hm f.iCi' set unci Iiftri1enc<l, and grew rigxl
as iron, nH l\i- tlionglitif all tlii». Slit- an* that
■tern (hiikiK'ss, hiiiI hoUl up li-r clasped
liaiiils. -V
'Oh, iort'ive mc ! I wns false imd base I
You desi)ise ni<', and I deservu it ! I wedded
him. No»r<>tn ymi i.an fe<l for me can lie
halt so l.itti r as that 1 litl for niysolf. And
yet. if you knew all, you nnglit try at kast
to foi';.'ivc.'
He snii'fd a little n^ he liatened— a smile
that had a world of liitterre.-H in it.
'There hoimI lie no talk of forgivenrea be-
tween UH. You lost in(;, Laily Imz, and you
married Jinothir man — nol at all an nncom-
iiion easi'. I'ray do not plead to me. I
think 1 wo\ild VathiT not hear it. You did
as most women would have done. I liave
no liL'ht to o.inplain— nothing; to pardon. I
am only borry \ou did not marry a better
mail.'
She covered her face with her hands, her
tears falling like rain. 'Cruel— cruel ! Bnt
I deserve it all. And yet I. too, liavc suf-
fered— oli, my God, 8» l.itterly, so long !
Kodciic, by the inoiiory of tiie pii-t, iie
merciful— sp ak one kind word tome ! Lis
ten whilst 1 tell you all !'
She stretched out her li.imls to him in an
acony of su|iplieation. He bowed low liefore
her, but he wouhl not coiicii those extended
hands. All that p iiKRH.natc pleading only
Beenied to harden his heart, oiil v seemed to re-
mind him Ilia' throULdi her he had lost faith
in man, trust in woman— that thri)Ui;h her
he had been an exile and an alien all those
years.
'I listen, Ladv Inez,' 1 e said, gravely ;
« hut once more Trepeat, it is unnecessary.
Let the dead pa>t stay dead— the sutl'eiiiip
ami misery have pone by. If it gives yoii_
pain, I <lo not a*k you to speak one word."
' It is vour coldiiesp, your st riiness, yonr
cruel indidereiice, that give niepdn. .Ah,
ynu are very unlike the Koderic Desmond oi
twenty ve.irs ago 1*
H • smiled again. ' Very unlike, my Lady
Inez. You can hardly wonder at that.'
' No : y< ur lot has b^en cruelly hard—
your .'xile lony and terrible. And I seemed
«o false, so base, BO hearlles". And yet it
was for love of you I wedded Geiald Des-
mond,'
Korv Defmond'e blue eyes opened wide at
thit. declaration . He almost lauglied aloud.
' I'ard .n me, Lady Inez, hut really that is
hanl to believe. You marry my rival— the
msn I have every reason to hate — because
you love we ! Suuuda rather like a paradox,
does it not?'
' Nevertheless, it is true. I can never tell
you wh;.t 1 felt, wl at I sufTcred, i.. those
first (ireidful daxs when we nil thouEht y u
murdered. I only wonder now 1 did not dio
or go iiad. Hut I lived on, in a stupor of
angu'sh, under tiio b:ow wiiich ki le<l your
father. Ah, he w.is happier far than I ! And
on liis death-bed he called me to his side and
bcgu' d me to l>e fieraM Desmond's wife.'
'.My father did this?'
' lie did. Do not biame him now ; he did
it for the best, tierald Desmond di 1 with
him as he willed ; and I— oh, Koiy ! c uld
I refuse voiir atlieranythi gin thai supreme
iiour? You were dead, I tliougiit audit
n attered little what became of ni' . Hesides,
1 hopei't my life would he but for a tew
montlis at liest ; I tin u^ht I conl 1 not l.ve
ill such utter desMlation as that. I'.nt, ih,
how strong I was ! 1 lived on and on— a
bviiig death — abhorring the man who was
my hnsl>.ind— SO' ii giny folly too late— ever,
j ever mourning for you. It you cannot for-
' give me, try at least and think less hardly
of mc, now that my days are numliciod— for
tiie sake of my daughter whom ' on love '.'
He listeneii'in pale .Tin ze. Tluuallels"
was lost in a git at mid deep comp ission fc r
this frail, pale creature, who in In art h.id
been true, after all— whose sutb lings ha I
l)(on An much t;rca!er tliaii his own.
' It is I who must .sk forgiveness. Lady
Inez,' lie said, in atone infinitely gentle an!
sweet, 'not yon ; for 1 1 ave greatly wr. ng-
ed ami im j'idg 'd you all the-e years. If
you think there is an> thing to pardon, the.
I pardon it freely, (i> d knows ! I ."ee it all
now. You have been farmoic sinned again t
than sinning. Y'e-, Inez--niv si.ster— I for-
give all, out of my inmost heart.'
He kissed the pale, transparent hands re-
vcrently — he b oked with pitying ■enderne'-s
into that pallid, wnsteil, worn face. Y'. s,
her womanly martyrdom had been long ami
vcrv hard to bear.
Hereycs shone through Iheirtears, at peace
now. they dwelt u| on him with an a:.g' lie
h ok, full o' an affect i'U free tnmi every
taint of earthly pas.sion - the gize of a
mother upon a beloved and long-lo.-t son.
• And you will tell me all now— your
past?' she Bnid, softly ; 'and why it is we
liave met at last?'
He seated himself bo.^ide her. Her face
glimmered white as that of a spirit in the
wan light as siio lay back to listen. Ho
t Id her all— his escape from piis(m by
faithful Mike Mnhbon ; that t irible st.ug-
yie for life on the clitT with the nnin v, o
was her husband ; of \ui «econd rescue from
death by Mike ; of the cruel news of his
father's death aud her marriage, wiiicii Liwi
rear
m.trl
lie I
endj
St. ,
Migi
Ht
ter;
thed
tervii
Hh,
intere
■ Story'
'ir
he is SI
U hyl
She
Ber gai
'Not
th.! ord
One «ls(
are abk
to ever)
tnornini
She l(
to go,
' Pard
could lea
in tlio.s(!
leantifnl
' The f
e<l to liati
lianagfil
1 can o'o I
liiKiw soni
'Ah ! a
• Mr. V
love witli i
him, I rat
domitablo
iJesides, Ik
Kvelyn. I
W'll iind lie
tJval as my
' How vei
nrave, fait
Wuld<x)n \
His eyesg
true hearted
' My hrav(
« love surp.is
Isliall never
^raiid Seigni
tionof hislid
wlien we pari
Wrote to him,
*nd he will w
Oit'an to repaii
•hall be mv ha
fellow in the tj
XOr VO!!!' *;.;•■;)
a he atufeutec
He toM her of I... ?„7r ' "^ "':' T' """■-
the .le.vl,.|„.<J conreMa.on, a„,l ti , •)'"'«"" J
terv.e«- ,„ ti.e lil.raiv so nwf < * ,''*' "«•
«mere,t,Ml, but never mtnSn;- ^'•"""■'e.-Iv
- -tory-^ en,l. Tl.e„ Hh« stro T "^r "'"" "'^
'.I tnn.t go to my l.u«l,u, i • i ""•-.
" l-y his M.le. ' ^ *" ^^' my place
'Nof yet liiL'» v.. 1
. »h,,. or<Jer.. of tlf; n^^^^^^ '^'»'> '"'n.. n,v,
^«'.e looked at hi™ .i,tfull,„,..^
-M^'tT^uSSl^el^^^i-V'^'-
, ' The fault wan Z , e '11'"', ''^e von.
e-l to hate n>e all 1ml' i**''" '''"' '«-■«-•'.-
«'»'m«en.,e n, her pV d '," "' /"f 'l-te un
J can Wo nothinir wltl i'' , "."''•'"""'^■"^«
»"m. I rather Luu-.y • ,uV ^ "^ '^^ ^''■"'
donufalJo pride of heriheirr;? ""»^ '»
JJ'sxieg, I.e was tl m? ^''^'» »P«rt.
*'" timl her, a..d T s.fu w f "'^''"^'' "'"' ''e
rival as my son.' '"*" '"^'^''"•"« my late
i^-"r"/rt;;irSd'':i' •'/ ^-^ th*,
MnIdoon_„.h,tofh,mV""" ''«"'''' Mik-
tru'e^Sffr.:^^ ■t'^e n
I«l.all never part ml^ * r"'"''? ' He and
Grand SeigneJ^ocSrf*!! "'"" ^-^n
*''en we parted. tlHe w i '"*'"«'■'' "«.
^rote to i;.,n. or rejoin^ir' *° *'*'' ""'*'
*>'rf I'e will wait Hr t. r '" '^ ^"« i
n"^->n to rtjpair an.I re rni l p']"'*'''"' «" ' l
•half be m^haihff t,7er" an'^d "t.To'"'', ""'' "'*
•i uiiu Mas ifoue.
lil)i,
CHAPTKR XV.
L* Com.
•Linr Clvdrsmork m xr
for VQMi .....;. 1 r .•»■•"'"•"»• Ol , .
bU a«e.t«d. and heij oit^'j,- l^,^. j
think, wli^n you Je,f i / f P o..„«ed I
ihat J i.au, not wriueu f "•''"■^''' '""•<'.
.'-••"'fe I I..UI nothiuL tL lav u '•* """'''y ''•^
'';;''i<8ti,atth,n«, ke" t_^'.'« o„i; i„
«lly. au.l Wura-s are ,re .?""""'•' <^»"ti"u
'•"^"l life, theol.l thrra . T,^ '"« '"«'"'•"« In
'*" «'tl.ont a par i -le >' '" '"^"-'ag.---
n"u.cc. uu^i:.';' ;'":;';*=' «' /-^^t-a l.ving ',^'
toun.iing ..vent of t .7ar; T "'" '""« "-
y are ,.„„.n^. uitl, n^'i[ •' "7' «'.'l c.n-
P'P^;"- I can sc, rcl vV'^r'*^'-'!''' of tJii
, • L«f •".• collect m/'i''" " ''" .V*^
''•■»'• Veroniquo, in G'ai ,'■'""■" •'«•«•". fnv
"•■"■••'•■'jre of La, yk .1 *-/:'"• '"• '''"'"f. he
-"; Vu.cent Delano.. '';;.;■",""";' *" ^o "
^'"■^- And in the Ivf V^*''"' o^ Clo„.
;;'---'amon,the.Teai:s' hat ';•"/. ''"' '«"•
""""I. at \Varl,eck ml V "r*''' I> «•
this, and l,een properlvL "'.' ''*"» ««•»'>
'"^te betrothed. uZlo'/ V'-''^" •"'' »"er
nance. a^-lso.n. \,v,au T.ovaa.
asae. when I thou J.r;- '''''*>7'« I* com:
.fe" your name Afr« t/ *'^''''' ''a»« writ.
'J a prou.le, title th J !,?""*"«=■ • •"•1 h ■ Id
«'"v Ah. we 11, liV'' ^-^--th had to be.
fiffyyears. b„t hi mU "'""**'' »"'» five-anj.
-;>and than oi; ^0^^" V""*"' "^^^^
...j'.'^^^rfrieiKl ^'*'*'» Would
«^- V^'utfr,::^ -«'••--. darlin,..
P:"ted hefore you ^S r '*? """'J' «"'««
'""' a-.'l kept hin. ,! u ^''^ *^^"'y" coT
•••or ori.iai tour, a„,i h^'JJV"'" ""' »^'ay on
»"f« more, a-icUone ;"„-««'"> ^^uJleT
loe
LADY EVliLYN.
his engagement canned, and his fl>gl>t to
America ni.iM.aiately after? He returned
Jio'ii tlKMice some two montlH ago, bniiiriiig
with hi 1 ft frit-nd— iiii American, he said-
one Colonel Diiimmond. Lord and L;idy
Cloiitarf and their daujihter were with us
at Warheck Hall at the time, and the two
gHtitlemcn came hy chance upon Kvtlyn and
me the day of their arrival, dowu on the
' I was strnck from the very first hy this
Colonel Diummond. You and 1 have seen
nianv Imndsome men in our day, Veronifiue,
but I don't think we either of us ever saw
a man lik*- Colonel Diummond. I do not
mean his being exceptionally handsome, al-
though he is— <|uite niagniicent, I assure
you: hilt I liad heard such talcs of his
prowess, of his invincible courage and
heroism, that I fxpcclfd ft ferocious barbar-
ian. I think, instead of what I saw. Vivian
had dcHcnlii'.l him as acool. daring fcohlier.
ready to lead his men int > the very jaws of
dentil, with a ciijar in his mouth, and, wli.at
is better, lead them out agvin triumphant.*
• I found the cool, darins soldier the gen-
tlest of uentleiiien, with the bow of a court
chimberliiiii, the b)WOst ftnd softest of
voices, the most coiirieous of mamieiB, and
A look of f.ithoniless 8adne>s in a pair of
eyes deeply. .1 .rkly, beautifully blue. Of
course 1 became absorbed, intenstod in
him at once, it is rstlier pleasant to know
that thee, v.ilier who benos so devot. tlly
over you has led men to the cannon's mouth ;
that your partner i'l tiie waltz, who twirls
you round so gently, has slain his thousands
and tens of thousands, and is a hero.
• You will not be surprised to hear this
of me : but yon will be astonished when I
tell yoK the cold, tli^ haughty, the heartless
Lidy F.velyn fe 1 in love with him at hrat
BiL'ht. I <lon't prctenil to understand it yei
it is altoei'tlier uii!il;e her.
' And to complic.ite matters still more, he
fell in love with lier also, and they had an
un<lev8tanding somehow : and there was a
■cene, 1 daresay, and a tragic farewell
epoken. and the hand8(.me colonel rode
awav, to return no more— as we thought.
• But the next afternoon, to our surprise
he returi ed, and with him Mr. Hall, the
rector, lie went up to the picture-gwllery
to see Kvclvn, leaving Mr. Hall and Trevan-
nance in the library. A few moments
after we heard a pierciui: glirirk, that rings
iu my ears yet. W« all rushed UTv-I kept
out of si^bt, howerer— and there stood
Ck.tonel Drummond with Udy Clontarf in
bis arms, in a dead swoon, while the earl
ttO€)d »t iniiij like a man iiis.-.nc.
• The Culonel broke up the tableau— he
was master of the situation. He placed
my b'dy on a sofa in hor ante-room, left her
in charge of her daughter, ordered— absol-
utely ordered— the earl down U» the library,
M'. Hal also, and followed them there,
without deiyuiiig the slightest explanation
to any one.
' The interview was long, and enrled traR-
ically eiiouiih. Mr. H.dl came rushmg out,
crying for help, and when all flocked iiH
they found the earl speechless and helpUua,
in a secnd attack of paralysis. Tliey bore
him to his room, a physician came, and we
were told that hiseaithly career was run.
' Ho wfts able to speak a lift e, and move
h s rigiit band and aim. Ho whiK|MTed one
word Roderio, and Colonel Dnimin.nd
came'and stowl by him. He smiled a little,
and beckoned the rector. Mr. Hall beu»
over liim. ., , „
• • Tell,' he whispered, * tell all !
• L:idy Clontarf and her danizhter came
into the room ; he »-aw them, and motioned
th<m forward. He lay clasping in his own
the hand of the C(d'>nel, and l>aclv ClonUrf I
great black eyes were I'ixeil upon him— th»
colonel— wi h a look of such wild joy as I
never na^ before in human face. \Vj were
all present— Cy<iesi)ioie, Vivian Trevan-
nance, mvsel', and Mr. Hull, in faltenng
btoken accenU, told the story he had to
tell.
'Colonel Drummond was not Colonel
Prummond at all, but Lord Ro«leric Des-
mond, and rightful I-Iarl of ClouUrf. Over
twenty years before he bad been tjiken ano
tri'd for the murder of an Irish peasant-
girl— Kathleen O'Neal— and condemned to
be hanged.
' In some wonderful way, he eUccted his
escape, and for twenty years was a wander-
er upon the earth, a branded feion, while
his third cousin, Gerald, succeeded to hi»
title and estates. Not only to his title .and
estates, but to the hand of his promised
bride, IneJ; d'Alvarez.
'You know, Vcnmique, how nnhappiy
the earl and countess always lived togetinr.
Now tl-.e secret is plain— »he loved always
the lover she had lost ; she recognized hiui
the first instant their eyes met.
• It appears there had bten in sorne way a
CO gpirncy against this Lord Koderic. The
girl, O'Neal, had a lover who woa madly
jealous of the young Irish lord, and it was
he who bad sworn lorn guilty. But in the
strangest, most providential manner they
had met, when Drummond, as he calls him-
self, left Warbeck Hall. He found tint
,„au Morgan, by name — wounded, dying,
-,,,1 .;., j.io .1 vine h.our lie made a confession
to the rector, lie had done the mui- er
I
himself. i,„ w|,,ci, i^r.i p , .
ti.e n,oti.e, J::r too/' S::'' ''"»'-'-' "^
«''••;« fro,nAn.en.;,^^Vtcr a rr*" '" '"*''
•'1(1 «t firht h,.,|,t ln.,( .„l i„ , "!"" y«'"«.
«"""lnct o/ \.v,,,„Tuv .■''!'' ''•'"•"'«
;■ ^ iioae .!« J,u.t „•■':;';:""; "•' '•"•'«"ea
tl'at vanity. „ot love .n i .'"''' ^"'' ""='• ?
•trek down. .„.,7„*'""V""'«"t »'«"•«
n«»v«o„..„ euusin vo?, | for "'^'':'"'' """
■"metl,,,,,,, and that l.» . .*■'"" ''"» '"r
was Kioouisnian-I |„h,i^'' |'«»''«nnarioe
-very i.a.,d,om/v'v .V"" ""■"'* "^ *»
connng ti.e occasion ,•"',.,"'" '•'"»V)ty be.
»"« P'.^.g. I won ler"i/ rl ".' ""' «"«' '''">
}" hM face. hM laUwor '. i'"''' '"' H"' '""^
'•« is biuied. an.l 1 ' ' /"'•«'^? And
the new ear and ''ouuu? ""',"' ""'• »»'J
«l'o won't be count '!;' ' "'^ ^"''^-
'"roi.I Cast.Ic " ri'.r'i^'M""-« '-^t
ftr..ngelv In.'^.p , .Tvet'h;'".- ^''^ "''-"»
^-•e. I.as c,f:ttl' " S"! ''1 '""• 'r*^ '-
covp.dti,isL,,rdjt,,d;: :,':,-"'''- d.s.
Imniedmttdv -ifiMr ♦! .
Iher l.« went I c 1 ': i'" "'';'PP'-'«'eil. AVJ.i.
»veil. " L iL cone r '"^ f "''« ^•■^"' f'^-
• .brlc.eve,rba^'rd^.^,'^"""•-/-
J:;r"'••— -»e'o;'^i_i-/^-
•^:::-ab.,eorrei;i,:::;:„r7:::;^:i-
^ aut that Uiay not l.f, an<]
^liY KVKLVN.
' UjuTRice. •
* • .
The amber clorw «# . *
afternoon filled thL.tV ,nH"v^ ■ '^T;""''''
''^'•'te sat a hotel J, d'^llL '''''" ' ^''^"''-
U"ite<l Su' :.•' a^'dle:? 'l'" ^''•^" '» »"•
v's.ted Toronto oJ.v" *°. <^»"'<'*. H»
'"ti.erto had failed V. . . 'i* """''"" ""ed
*'"• more .Ut- ,n„ned " » '''"'I'r"'<«<l
. n-^ver known lio»v '^r .i *>''"'"'• ^'^ ''-vl
♦J- '.op« of finZp fer W.r! '^ '"'" """'
H»Krew La^-frard Hinlnfi" *"'"»«« »'im.
look ofnerv,:„r„„: IT'*':"'^'' -certain
«r.whab.tnalt;,-;;nr;;^Sc,dulue..
noon. weaV;a!;/''r„,;""''»;^ Pte.nher after.
P'or I.ttle. frail WanlJ or „!„•*'"' f ""•
•torn.v sea ? Ah. if he h ?1 l\ "" ''f^'»
^'Vi. heart, and u ale ,r ' l". "^^r", \T '" '"•
have taken her to hi, hJ '"'*"'* "^""W
'■er f,.o ,,.„;.^to''-b'^om^^^^^^^^^^
'"'starte.!. took ,;' ;• ^" «»""-•'•. tifough.
•■-•;' again, hj,, ! ^i^ , ;',;■ h.s .nontl,'
'•-•hKht An instant la he']. ''^f a-'d
An elder! V Frpno).„.
cnrl...tone, M^.W f ;Tr" "*'^«^ «" th«
"t'-'^'t. \Vitl, , F "^ • '-haii'^e to cross tho
' Ala.ian.e Jfiohand '
re^'S'hli*' r:r "'"^''•^' """"'I -nd
108
LADY KVELYN.
•J»fon Difii! M. Trcv.innnnco. Wlio
wowl'l har*- iIjoiik''*— ^^i"" "•"''tin? I» "I'O
hero ? 1» slie «ell ?'
' Until, inoimicnr.'
• Aiitl wiiliyi.ii?'
'Always Mitli me, morniknr. Couln the
child live nWiiiu '• _,
•'I'liaiik Hpfiven. I-^ «ht on t'lf nt'go '
'No, iTKinginir. She lias i.ever U en on
the Ktige Hiiice t'<at t me." j
• Tim nU Heaven again. What then, ilocs j
•lie <l(i?' t ^ ^ •
'Monsieur. I don't know that I ought to
t.llv«,u. Miiin's. i;f «ill not like it.'
' \Vi,y not, piiiy— if it he honouruhlr ?
Tt'll ine, MiniiiiiK,- Sliu and.'
'Well, tlifii, -he tfaohca ninniiiK and the
piano. But it is li:iid w«i k u.oiiHi'Mir. and
poor p ly. The otlui was ho ninth fasiiT, ho
much )ikM» iitiT. t>lill slie toils on, himI
wor.^H for us lidth. All. It is a nohU' lu-ait.'
• Wny ilni slit! h'avi: tlii' staj,'-' ?' Tnvan-
v.iiiiiHiiie asUcd, more niuvud than he cared
lo 8h"W.
Lo Ml. hand j;laiii;i<l at him askancP. Mie
wai old, I ut 8 e had ii'il lorgottf;» h<r
youth. She uii.hrstood perfectly why, hit |
she w ^^ I'V tar too woiiiaiiiv to tell. Siie |
fcliriijr'.'ed her Bhouldtrs, uud trotted on by 1
hiB Hide. , i 1 I
'All, why indopd. A^k lier that when ;
you see her, monsieur ; she never told me. j
When- are you going now ?' j
'Home wilh yon, ma.himc,' Trevannaiue |
answered, wilh quiet resolulion. ' D' n t ho j
inhospi'ul.l.'; 1 iiiBist upon it. Is Mignon- j
nette there?' i
' Mignoiiiiette is f.ut— at her h s.kohs. She ;
will he vi-ry anL'ry when she return- niid tii.ds ■
you W.' ilout reeiive gentleinen in our i
chateau. M Tr.vann.ine.',' .'Iiirped niadame. I
' But sneh ad o d friend as 1 am, and after
eomini; all the way from F,n;.;laiid. too.
Your rule is ex-. .■Ihnt— 1 lejuce you don t
receive geiitleiiicii — but I am —
'No peutleuian, monsieur means to pay?'
'An exception. I mean to Biy, madaine.
Ir this the place ?'
This was the place— up two pair of stairs
—three little attic chamlierH— spotlessly
clean kitchen, sleeping-room and parlour.
Into the latter in id inie ushered her guest,
apologiziiiL' fur its lack of luxuiy.
' We are p'>'r. monsieur — the Mipi'on-
nette never could l;eep her money— il (lowed
from her line water to all who '..erded it.
And then, travell ng fnm place to place
melts it uw.iv. S't here by the window
iiinnsienr— the view i- pleisa'it. And tell
.i:.7 ..«,, r-^al'v eoina :dl tlie wav from
iiiigUiiU to find— ub
' For no other purp<'se, madame. ^ And I
never mean to part fr( ni— y n n;.itin.'
Maiiame laugh, d eh., nly. At the samfl
instant, a st. p came kh'wly and wearily up
the oi g Ktnii.
' J/o;i Dim!' maiiame crieit, in evulcnt
alaini, ' here hlie is. Uli, ni.>i hieiir, she will
be aiigty.'
'Tia-u I will bear the blame. Open the
door.'
The door opened of its-lf, and Minettd
htO(i<l on t!ie thie^hold. Yen, Minctte ; but
Witii all the ohl, .lelant bnghties-s, the o'd
<lnHh. iwid !)iiirlvle. and blof ni, t;oii . She
looked pah' anil tl.iii, very tire.l and Hid.
liergiaiiC' tell up..n the viitoi the lirst
instuiil. Slie ulieied no excl mat ion. no
w.ird. She stood i(<.t.<i lo tie : p. t with
iiniaze, ami some hiiig^ else that lelt lier
pallid as ashes.
T.evaiui^.nce rose, very pale himself, nn>l
cam.- iiutti'v iorwai-.l.
' Mi^iioiinette ! at last. Thank heaven, 1
have fouiiil yon once more.'
The sound of his voi.e broke the ppell.
She enme in and ch sed the doer, hiit tho
band he exteiiiled v> as entirely over ookeit
'Thin li^a very uiiexpect. d Inlio.ir, Mr.
Trevannaiice,' f!ic Kii.l. slov, Iv an.! Irignlly,
• Yon wili pardon nie if 1 say as nnwelcoino
at. iliuxpecte.l. To what do \v e owe it ?'
Sh.' Hto.-d looking at Inm, the ohl, flashing
light ill the black eyes, the old, ileliuut ri g
in the rich v(,;ce.
Madame saw the coming storm, .Tnd fled
before it. She r.treated lo the kitchen.
She could hear just as w. II theie. nn.l await-
ed tin battle with her eye to the keyh le.
Trevam.inue sp ke— a verv t-rient of
elof|U'iiee it seemed to the little imiihimc.
She could iimlerhtand Kngl sh, and fpok-' it,
too, but not when it flowed in a deluge lik«
thif.
Th" g-ntleman pleaded hi« cause eloquent-
ly and long, looking irresJHtlldy han.lsomo
all the while. The lady pac.d the little
room, verv angry, very hatighiy. very
niajestie, at first, but melting gr.ulually.
Mid..me knew how it would end— oh,
yPB !_iuid chuckled inwardly .it this Icneii.i;
with the buttons on. Ami when preRently
monsieur, ifce/ on ini|.a^si. ned h.ir.yigiie,
T.lasped mademoiselle iii his iiini!', and held
her there, and ma.leinoiselle, alter one ' r
two etto: ts to escape, submitted to be held
cantive, why then icxdaine langln o ( utrigl t,
npp'au.ie.l foftiy with \\\ n b own hands, and
trotted awiiy from the k. yhole.
' Dif^i mi^ci r srtiil m idame ; 'it's all
over! An<! now I 11 go ami get supper.'
Trevaiinance h»d uoi.^ueie.L Ihu little.
>:^v
"OM . be |,„„«„ „..:,'l":;; M'«no„„e , Com.
''Ain i..VKL»N.
' I nlways
CHAPTER XVI.
too
»"t J'm — '
p.™. -"' i".,-u...,,„„„ --|;;;;.-..._.. .;;2;i;:;;;-
Ml".
,e,l •'"'" ?'« '" ""^^ ;^ ,", i'"^ ^"", •!"••'"""«.
wiie^ •'^' -"»'"'«. Sh. Ujour f.H
-Ppoar in «oc.iet;^;t iu""s"" ""•' ■'"'■^ not
, ;'>';e «n.l her I. M.ba^, I'J''' ''''*•'■ r .ie^nl^o
rife !'
:j"Wir)rumm nd?•
♦••anspired. "<»y of all ti.at hj
, '^lie has been t„i,i ^r
i;j'""fc'. they «-,Il fi'f,, V ' '^ /n,>la„,, ,/";•
'""'"«• ' l^'T 't"-^''""« I ever „;V,'T''^'^''"f«rent
perfect niun.l ih=r...r,''"'' Vet u-;,}.
, Aud rioiv -for I If,,
■:'b.,,teivra^ea.:';r:" «:::.--'. The
t
no
LADY KVKLYN.
uintk «f>iiiBf|ii..»iti..iiii(OMc.Tiiinu licr
II. I III- l.illf. iloci.luilly, ol llie NfaHoii.
Sli.
^MittiH -iiio Ilk.', Hlio in 1,1,0 » you iiii
poti.ht.v try. My 'i.ar. ,,l,e.H»n omim., ;
kht wad M.i.i.iiiou.llo Mn.itto Uli«t.,„n,.v
»»' I r»% J liat ,H all w, know o liei. nml
«< >*«p asllii i....r.- of thr In.ly fa.tidioUM Ti.-.
„H*«it« h ,« Uiiime hi» qiieuii ouiisort. Wliat
1. -lie (ikf »
IS pufiN., l,i.n„,,,|p vivari'Mis. full of
N 'tlid r. ,.a tee; iii.| Ui'ii i.ttle Cana-
dian oi,-uo Inm ,1 .ioiil):p ,..U... aiul I, r loiiB
ahuoiMl .-v.-, (l,,Hl. bl.u.k (ir«. Hl,« »|p.,</|„to
flirt a I ltl._,,o,.tual justice for Vivmii
Jr.-vi.niiai.o. ut li. Ir.okn (•a:mly on. will,
tyes olla/y n.ln,., M-m. jjoo.l t- *. e. In fin ir
way ! (lurt-hny tlu-y an, ,,„jtp »«, foi„l of <,i„.
•lu.tti.r iiKtlio |.;.rl ami cnm^ * : l.nt tli.-y
»re HO (l.(|,.r,.|,t there ,» no comi).. ,n>; tli.in.
AiMl now, ,l.-iir, n.lini. Com.- M Km-laml
dim iiiinim.r— roMie to Wiiilie k Hail ami
••ef for youisolf the Cory.h. , and I'hvlli» of
l(oyal Ki-Mt. lU-at lovoaiidcouMihHx k|y«e«
from tiiy d.-voUd. liKATiucK.
•••••••
Sunset ; a gky of R.dd „„,i ,.,iliie« ; a if a
-iwii u-ith Rtars. I hi< Mc^f ,„ wiiidowi of
oary ClontiM-f tVtIf had tuinc.l to »)ipeU
of iHaten K, I I ; itH tall turrets Rlittcit-d in
the ft! I triaiicoa of the siiiiBpt. Very peace,
ml i..y the (iMhiiiK vill.ig ■ under the heetiinK
roc-UH ; very ju-aceful l.,oked the huml.le
chi.rch »n the distance, itn tall (roa«— that
'8IH11 of hop,, toman'— ablaze in tli« laat
Imht of the May day.
'Ih • lady and p-ntleniaii who came up the
ock pitii fioin the seashore took their way
'lowlv in this direction. She leaned upon
i.i« aim, ii woman in her first youth, i.eautj.
fill as 8)ine dr. am of heaven, with the radi-
ance of a, great and perfect Idiss forever in
her face. A pure and nohli. nml shone out
• 1 itarry violet eye« ; the looked and moved
' A daughter of tite pods, diriutly talL
And most divinely fair.'
Aud ha upon wbos« arm she hung looktd
a fit protector for her lovelinem— a man for
"'" " '" I'oix.iir-to adore. The h..iid.<Mue
laee wa« very trravo. very thoiij-hlfnl, a little
HBil, as lie j.;iy,,,| aroiiii.l on the faniiiiar l.ud-
marks uime. n for (me mi.l-twenty years.
lie point, d Ihem out to her sh fhey weni
nloni; ; hut. as they .l,cw mar the church
»ii.i.ce lell. do opened the little wi.ket
Hate and l.d the way round to (he church,
yard « |„.,o the • rude forefathers of the
hiimi. t Hiept. '
Till jjiass wave.l, and wildflowrre Idooni.
e«l : rt lew Htoiii-s maik.d the reMtin.'-p a.-.s
, — Mooden Ipoar.l oth.rr ()« er all »he M ,y
• silimt iaim.,i down itn la, mlpahle i-old."
I Me led the way aloiij. the l..at.ii path to
ft Hiiniiy coi ner. wh.ie a t.ill sycamore cast
; I's w.iviuK xhadow over tin- erave. A « liite
; inarhle cross Ktoo.l at its head, a wreath of
I immortelles snri.Min.linK one name— one—
only on.-_'KATlll.KKN.'
I And I„„iy l.:v,.|y,i sank down on her knees.
I «itli a hoh. on the y. elding turf, an.l kissej
tlie name passioiiauly.
'Oh whst h.-»ve 1 done.' she said, 'tha*
mich Miss shouhl he mine, while she. whj
'irel you ao .iearly, who died for you. lici
lie uncovered his he.-xd before i<).il i.wly
j:ravo with as deep a reverence as ho ha.l
ever .lone in the stately cathedrals of old
.^pain. as he thoii«l.t of that fair young l,fe.
lost lor love of him.
'Kathleen is in heaven,' he said, « and
her niemoiy will be ever creen in our hearts.
Uli, mv dailinp. my youth comes back as
1 stand h. re slid Ic ,k at her name I ^Vhat
am I that I should have won such a heart aa
yours?'
The «un8.t failed while those wedded lovers
lingered there. Then as he drew her irently
nway, the happy tears still wet on her eye-
aHh.s, she saw him castinRone last, linirerinff
IfH.k back, the loiiir evening shadows ile. p.
eningover the quiet sleepers, and the hinl
tuMuin,
\
k man for
laniltoiiie
il, A liitia
iinr I mil*
cars,
liey wen!
' cliiircli,
e wiiki^l
I' c)iiiri'if
rs of til*
r» tilonin-
iif.'-p nciu
tli.r M„y
;ol.l.
I put I) to
iiiii'u (-ant
A "!iit«
ireatli of
f— OJie—
pr kn«>(>a,
lii ki8ae(l
I. 'thn«
lie, wli )
you, liei
.It lowly
I lie Imd
of old
Jiig life,
, 'and
heart*.
back aa
What
leart u
i lovera
' gently
l»'r eyu-
n(;ei'in|[{
I (lerp.
he hint
ravcof