HM^SOUTHWORTH

 
 LILITH 
 
 A Novel 
 
 A SEQUEL TO "THE UNLOVED WIFE " 
 By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH 
 
 Author of "The Bride's Fate," "The Changed Brides," 
 
 "Cruel as the Grave," "The Hidden Hand," " Ishmael," 
 
 "Self-Raised," Etc. 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS .-. NEW YORK
 
 Popular Books 
 
 By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH 
 
 In Handsome Cloth Binding 
 
 Price 60 Cents per Volume 
 
 CAPITOLA'S PERIL 
 
 CRUEL AS THE GRAVE 
 
 "EM" 
 
 EM'S HUSBAND 
 
 FOR WHOSE SAKE 
 
 ISHMAEL 
 
 LILITH 
 
 THE BRIDE'S FATE 
 
 THE CHANGED BRIDES 
 
 THE HIDDEN HAND 
 
 THE UNLOVED WIFE 
 
 TRIED FOR HER LIFE 
 
 SELF-RAISED 
 
 WHY DID HE WED HER 
 
 For Sale by all Booksellers 
 or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANY PUBLISHERS 
 52 Duane Street ..... New York 
 
 Copyright, 1881 and 1890 
 By ROBERT BONNER'S SONS 
 
 LILITH 
 
 Printed by special arrangement with 
 STREET & SMITH
 
 LILITH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 OLD ADAH'S SECRET 
 
 So at last shall come old age, 
 
 Decrepit, as beseems that stage. 
 
 How else should we retire apart 
 
 With the hoarded memories of the heart? 
 
 Browning. 
 
 Oh, for the touch of a vanished hand, 
 And the sound of a voice that is still ! 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 IT was a lovely morning in May, when Tudor Here- 
 ward sat, wrapped in his gray silk dressing-gown, re- 
 clining in his resting-chair, on the front piazza at 
 Cloud Cliffs. 
 
 He had had a hard fight with death, and had barely 
 come out of it with his life. 
 
 Physicians and friends alike ascribed his illness to 
 nervous shock upon a system already run down under 
 the long-continued pressure of work and worry. 
 
 He was convalescent now, yet he seemed the mer.e 
 shadow of his former vigorous manhood. 
 
 By his side, on a stand covered with white dam- 
 ask, stood a basket of luscious strawberries in a nest 
 of their own leaves; also a vase of fragrant spring 
 
 3 
 
 22253
 
 4 LILITH 
 
 flowers hyacinths, tulips, jonquils, daffodils, violets 
 and heart's-ease. Yet he neither touched nor tasted 
 flowers or fruit. 
 
 Before him stretched the green lawn, shaded by 
 acacia trees in full bloom, which filled the air with 
 their rich aroma. 
 
 Farther on, the woods swept around the grounds, 
 a semi-circular wall of living verdure. 
 
 Beyond them stood the cliffs, opal-tinted in the sun- 
 light, misty where their heads were vailed by the soft 
 white clouds which gave them their name. 
 
 Birds trilled their song of rapture through the per- 
 fumed air. 
 
 It was a lovely morning in a lovely scene. A morn- 
 ing and a scene that ministered to every sense, yet 
 it was more than a mere material paradise, for its 
 many delights combined to fill the soul with peace, 
 joy and thankfulness, and so to raise it 
 
 "From Nature up to Nature's God." 
 
 Especially to a convalescent, coming for the first 
 time out of his sick-room, must such a scene of sum- 
 mer glory have brought a delicious sense of new life 
 in fresh and keen enjoyment, making him think that 
 even of this material world it might be said, to some 
 less favored people of some other planet: "Eye hath 
 not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the 
 heart of man the things that God hath prepared for 
 them that love Him." 
 
 But this was not the case with Tudor Hereward. 
 To his sick soul, as to the diseased mind of another, 
 the beauty of the earth and the glory of the heavens 
 were but 
 
 " A foul and pestilent congregation of vapors,' 
 
 for all the pleasure he could take in them. 
 His wife Lilith was gone dead murdered.
 
 LILITH 5 
 
 This was to him the death-knell of nature. His 
 mental suffering was not now sharp. He was much 
 too weak to feel acutely. His sorrow had settled into 
 a dull despair a cold and lifeless misery. 
 
 Lilith was gone. 
 
 If she had passed away peacefully in her bed, at- 
 tended by friends, sustained by religion, though he 
 must have mourned for her, he could have borne his 
 loss; or if, as had been at first supposed, she had ac- 
 cidentally fallen into the creek, and met a sudden, 
 painless death, still, though he must have suffered 
 much more, yet he could have endured the blow; but 
 she had been butchered cruelly butchered by some 
 night-prowling ruffian, whose identity was neither 
 known nor suspected, and whose motive for the mon- 
 strous crime could not even be imagined. 
 
 Lilith had been slain, and the blackness of dark- 
 ness had settled upon the soul of him who felt that 
 he had driven her forth that bitter winter night to 
 meet her awful fate. 
 
 Yes, the blackness of darkness seemed to have 
 fallen like the clods of the grave upon his dead and 
 buried soul. In other deaths the body only dies; 
 the soul lives on. In his case it seemed the soul that 
 died, while the poor weak body lived on. 
 
 He had not been deserted in his misery and 
 despair. As soon as the news of the discovered mur- 
 der at Cliff Creek had flown over the country, spread- 
 ing horror everywhere, friends and neighbors had 
 flocked to the house, with profound sorrow for the 
 murdered wife and sympathy for the awfully bereaved 
 husband, and earnest proffers of assistance in any 
 manner in which their services could be made avail- 
 able. 
 
 And when it became known that Mr. Hereward 
 himself had been suddenly stricken down by danger- 
 ous illness, the ladies of the neighborhood, skilful
 
 6 LILITH 
 
 nurses all, carefully trained to their duties as their 
 mothers before them had been and as all the 
 mistresses of large plantations necessarily were 
 came in turn to stop at the Cliffs, and to take care of 
 the desolate master. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Cave, his old pastor, had come every 
 day to visit him, and as soon as his condition war- 
 ranted, to administer religious consolation. 
 
 Every one mourned for Lilith, every one sympa- 
 thized with Hereward, and served him in every pos- 
 sible way. They "pulled him through," as the doctor 
 phrased it, though it was but the shadow of the man 
 they raised. 
 
 And even now that he was convalescent he was not 
 left to himself. 
 
 Mrs. Jab Jordon was now the volunteer house- 
 keeper and nurse, as she had been for the week past, 
 and as she meant to be for the week to come, and her 
 fine health and good spirits and judicious manage- 
 ment were as beneficial to the stricken man as any- 
 thing could be under these adverse circumstances. 
 
 It was her hand that had arranged his reclining- 
 chair on the piazza, and placed the stand of fruit and 
 flowers by its side. It was her will that had kindly 
 forced him out of the gloom of his sick-chamber into 
 the sunshine and fresh, fragrant air of that lovely 
 May morning. It was her precaution that still kept 
 from him the loads of well-meaning letters of con- 
 dolence that he could not have borne to read as yet. 
 
 And even now the good woman was upstairs super- 
 intending Cely and Mandy in the work of preparing 
 a new room for the patient, who was not to be taken 
 back to the old sick-chamber, which was dismantled 
 and, with all its windows open, turned out, so to 
 speak, to all the airs of spring. 
 
 It was a little surprising to all who knew old Nanoy, 
 the colored housekeeper who had so long ruled
 
 LILITH 7 
 
 supreme at Cloud Cliffs, that she was not jealous of 
 this invasion of the house by the ladies of the neigh- 
 borhood. But in fact, Nancy was grateful for their 
 presence and their help. 
 
 " 'Sides w'ich," as she confided to Cassy, the cook, 
 "dis ain't no time fer no po' mortil to stan' on deir 
 dignity. De 'sponsibility ob de case is too mons'ous; 
 let alone my heart bein' broke long ob po' dear Miss 
 Lilif goin' to glory de drefful way she did! an' me 
 fit for nuffin'. It would be flyin' 'deed it's de trufe 
 flyin'. " 
 
 So Nancy put herself under the orders of Mrs. Jor- 
 don, as she had done under her predecessors. 
 
 The pale convalescent, sitting in his resting-chair, 
 gazed with languid eyes over the lovely lawn, with 
 its fragrant blossoming trees, and its parterres of 
 flowers in sunny spots, on to the encircling woods 
 filled with birds and bird songs, and beyond to the 
 opal-tinted, mist-vailed cliffs, and to the deep blue 
 sky above them all; yet seemed to take in nothing 
 of the brightness and the beauty. 
 
 At length his listless, w y andering eyes perceived a 
 figure, at strange variance with the bright summer 
 scene. 
 
 Creeping around from the rear grounds, emerging 
 from a side grove of acacia trees, winding between 
 parterres of hyacinths, tulips, daffodils, and other 
 spring flowers, came a very aged woman, small, 
 black, withered, poorly clad in an old brown linsey 
 gown, with a red handkerchief tied over her head and 
 under her chin, and leaning on a cane, she drew slowly 
 near the piazza, climbed the two or three steps and 
 stood bobbing, but trembling with infirmity, before 
 the invalid master. 
 
 "Well, Aunt Adah, I am pleased to see you abroad 
 once more," said Hereward, kindly. 
 
 "Young inarster, I t'ank yer, sah. An' I is t'ank-
 
 8 LILITH 
 
 full Oh, my Hebbenly Lord, how t'ankful I is in 
 my heart to fine yer sittin' out yere!" earnestly re- 
 sponded the woman, reverently raising her eyes and 
 trembling through all her frame. 
 
 "Sit down, Aunt Adah. You are not able to stand," 
 said Hereward, kindly, stretching out his emaciated 
 hand to reach and draw a chair up to the weary old 
 woman. 
 
 "I t'anks yer, young marster, I t'anks yer werry 
 much, an' I will sit down in yer p'esence, since yer's 
 so 'siderate as to 'mit me so to do; fer I is weak, 
 young marster I is weak. I has been yere a many 
 times to see yer, young marster, but dey wouldu' 
 leabe me do it, no dey wouldn', an' I 'spects dey was 
 right. Yer wa'n't well 'nuff to be 'sturbed," said the 
 old creature, as she lowered herself slowly and care- 
 fully into the chair, for all her joints were stiff with 
 extreme age. 
 
 "You were very kind to come to inquire after me 
 so often," said Hereward, gently. 
 
 "An' w'y wouldn' I come? An' how should ebber 
 I hear ob yer 'dout comin' myse'f to 'quire? It'd be 
 long 'nuff fo' any ob dese t'oughtless niggers yere 
 come 'cross de crik to fetch me any news! Me, as 
 has been a savint ob de Tudors for 'mos' a hund'ed 
 years an' is by fur de ol'est savint on de plantation! 
 'Deed it's de trufe, young marster. I was ninety-nine 
 years old las' Can'lemas Day," continued the old 
 woman, stooping to lay her cane on the floor. 
 
 Hereward smiled faintly. He knew from old farm 
 records that Aunt Adah was even older than, with 
 the strange pride of her race in extreme longevity, 
 she claimed to be; and that for the last few years she 
 had steadily called herself ninety-nine years old last 
 Candlemas Day, sticking at that imposing number and 
 seeming to forget that every year increased it; hon- 
 estly to forget, for old Adah would have been per-
 
 LILITH 9 
 
 fectly delighted if any one had opened her eyes and 
 explained to her that she might truly lay claim to a 
 hundred and seven years. 
 
 "You have certainly been a most faithful follower of 
 the family, Aunt Adah/' said the young man. 
 
 "Yes, honey, fai'ful!" assented the old creature. 
 "Dat's me, fai'ful! fai'ful froo flck an' fin, froo good 
 , 'port and ebil 'port, fai'ful fer ninety-nine years las' 
 ' Can'lemas Day! I didn't 'rnancipate de plantashun to 
 go off to Cong'ess like so many ob dem riff-raff, low- 
 life brack niggers did! No, sah! Aunt Adah Mun- 
 gummerry had too much 'spect fer herse'f, let alone 
 'spect fer de ole famberly ob de Tudors, to 'grace 
 herse'f dat way! 'Sides w'ich, young marster, to tell 
 de bressed trufe, I wouldn' 'a' lef my log-house in de 
 piney woods 'cross de crik, wid my good pine-knot fire 
 in de winter time, an' my cool spring ob water outside 
 de do', no, not fer all de Cong'ess in de whole wori'! 
 'Deed, 'fo' de law, it's de trufe!" 
 
 And, inasmuch as Aunt Adah had been long past 
 labor and was living as a pensioner on the family at 
 the time of the emancipation, any stranger hearing her 
 boast might have thought that policy and not principle 
 was the secret of her fidelity to native soil and friends. 
 But such was not the case. At no age would she have 
 left the home and the family to whom she was so 
 strongly attached. 
 
 Her bondage was that of love, from which no act 
 of Congress could emancipate her. 
 
 "Would you like a glass of wine, Aunt Adah?" 
 inquired the 3 7 oung man, reaching his thin hand to a 
 silver call-bell that stood upon the stand near him 
 
 "No, honey; no, chile, not yit; not jis yit! I'd like 
 a tumbler ob good b'andy toddy, bimeby, but not yit, 
 caze I's got somefin on my min'," replied the old crea- 
 ture, so very solemnly that Hereward withdrew his 
 hand from the bell, lifted his head and looked at her.
 
 10 LILITH 
 
 "Something on your mind, Aunt Adah?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 "Yes, young marster, somefin werry sarous on my 
 min'," repeated the aged woman. 
 
 "What is it, Adah? Speak out, my good soul. 
 Don't be afraid!" said Hereward, kindly. 
 
 "I ain't afeard, young marster! 'Tain't dat! But 
 it is somefin berry heabby on to my min', as been 
 wantin' to get offen my min' by tellin' ob you; an' 
 dat's wot fetch me yere mos' ebbery day since yer's 
 been sick; on'y dey wouldn' leabe me see yer, no way, 
 and I 'spects dey was yight. But I sees yer now, 
 young marse, an' I wants to tell yer." 
 
 "Very well, Aunt Adah, tell me what it is now," 
 said Hereward, in an encouraging tone. 
 
 "Young marse, it is a solemn secret, beknown on'y 
 to me an' one udder gran' wilyan! But I was boun' 
 not to tell anybody on dis worl' 'fo' I could tell yo' 
 fuss. Dough, indeed, it ought fo' to be tole long 
 ago, on'y it wasn' in my power to tell it at de yight 
 time, caze I was all alone in my house, laid up long 
 ob de rheumatiz, an' didn' know wot was gwine on 
 yere at dis place; an' w'en I did come to fine out, it 
 were too late fer dem, an' I come to tell yer, but yer 
 was too ill to be 'sturbed, an' dey wouldn' let me see 
 yer, an' I 'spects dey was yight; but I was 'termined 
 to keep dat solemn secret in my own heart, an' not 
 to tell nobody wot I knowed to make a stracshun in 
 de place, till yo' got well so I could tell yo' fuss, an' 
 let yer do wot yer fought bes'." 
 
 "Yes, yes; but what what is it that you have to 
 tell me?" demanded Hereward, becoming more im- 
 pressed by the words and manner of the woman. 
 
 His excitement alarmed the poor creature, who 
 pulled herself up suddenly, saying: 
 
 "Hole on now, Adah Mungummerry! Hole on,
 
 LILITH IT 
 
 ole lady! Yer's a rushin' ob it on too rapid on to 
 a sick man. Hole up, now!" she said, talking to her- 
 self, as is the habit of the extremely aged. 
 
 "Tell me at once what you have to tell," said Here- 
 ward, with a sudden terrible suspicion that her com- 
 munication might concern the murder of his young 
 wife. 
 
 "Well, dear young marster, but yer mus' have 
 patience and 'pose yerse'f, sah! 'Deed yer mus', 
 young marse, or yer'll make yerse'f wuss, an' wot 
 would Mrs. Jab an' de udders say to me ef I made 
 yer wuss? I's gwine to tell yer, young marse, w'ich 
 I come yere fo' dat puppose; but I mus' tell yer 
 werry graduately so as not to make yer no wuss. 
 Well, now, le's see le' me see, now. Le' me be 
 cautious. Sort o' break de news little by little. Young 
 marse, yer know dat mornin' wot yer come to my 
 cabin to 'quire 'bout Miss Lilif?" 
 
 "Yes," breathed the young man, beginning to 
 tremble with anxiety in his extreme weakness. 
 
 "Well, young marse, as I telled you dat mornin' I 
 'peats now. She hadn' been dere, nor likewise nigh 
 de place dat bressed night, as w'y should she come, 
 w'en listen now, young marse! w'y should she come 
 w'en it warn't ne'sary; caze she had sent Nancy long 
 ob dat po' misfortunit young gal, to fetch me money, 
 an' close, an' wittels, an' drink, an' ebbery singerly 
 fing as heart could wish." 
 
 "So you told me before," said Hereward, impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 "So I did, my dear young marse, an' I ax yer par- 
 don fer tellin' ob yo' ag'in; but I does it to make 
 yer ax yerse'f w'y should Miss Lilif do such a unne'- 
 sary fing as to come to my cabin dat cole night for 
 nuffin? No, young marse! She didn' come to no cabin 
 dat night."
 
 12 LILITH 
 
 "But she started to go!" exclaimed Hereward, with 
 a cry of anguish. 
 
 "No, young marse! An' dis is wot I war tryin' to 
 come at, soft an' grad'al, not to s'prise yer too sud- 
 den. Now listen, dear marse, an' year wot I tell yer, 
 'caze it's de bressed trufe Miss Lilif nebber come to 
 de cabin dat night, nor likewise she nebber started to 
 come, neider!" solemnly declared the old woman. 
 
 Hereward sprang up, stared at the earnest speaker 
 and then fell back faint and trembling. 
 
 " 'Pose yerse'f, dear young marse; dere ain't nuffm 
 to 'stress yer, but quite deffrint," soothingly mur- 
 mured old Adah. 
 
 "What what do you mean? She certainly did go 
 
 to the creek, because because " faltered the 
 
 speaker, but his voice broke down in silence. 
 
 "Caze dere was a body foun' dere? Dat wot yer 
 were gwine to say, young marse?" 
 
 "Yes," breathed Hereward. 
 
 "Yes, so dere was, Marse Tudor, so dere was. But 
 dat body wa'n't dear Miss Lilif 's!" 
 
 Hereward, trembling as if stricken with palsy, and 
 with his hands clutching the arms of his chair, bent 
 forward and stared at the speaker. 
 
 "It's de trufe, as I s'pect to stan' 'fo' my Hebbenly 
 Judge at de las' day, Marse Tudor! Dat body war 
 not Miss Lilif s, as I could hab edified to de Cow's 
 Jury, ef I had a knowed wot was gwine on yere an' 
 could a come up 'fo' it. 'Stead of w'ich I war laid 
 up long ob de rheumatiz at home, an' no one came 
 nigh me to tell nuffin." 
 
 "Not not Lilith's " muttered Hereward, fall- 
 ing back in his chair quite overcome. 
 
 Old Adah, in her well-meaning, blundering man- 
 ner, had tried to "break the news," but had not suc- 
 ceeded. She was alarmed at the looks of the young 
 man.
 
 LILITH 13 
 
 "Le' me yun in de house an' fetch yer a glass of 
 wine, Marse Tudor! Please, sah!" she pleaded. 
 
 "No, no, no, do not move! I want nothing I want 
 nobody to come. What did you say? It was not " 
 
 "No, Marse Tudor, it w r ar not hern, no mo' an it 
 war your'n or mine," impressively replied old Adah. 
 
 "But it was identified as such by by " 
 
 "By de long, curly brack ha'r, so I years, an' by 
 de gown, an' de unnerclose wid her name on 'em, an' 
 de putty little F'ench boots wid her name on de in- 
 side. Wa'n't dat wot yer war gwine to say, Marse 
 Tudor?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, dat were all jes' so. De booful ha'r war 
 like Miss Lilif's, shuah nuff, an' de warm casher 
 gown, an' de unnerclose, an' de pooty F'ench boots 
 war all Miss Lilif's. But dat war jes' all dere war 
 ob Miss Lilif's. It wa'n't hern." 
 
 "Adah! what is this you are telling me, and what 
 reason have you for saying what you do?" demanded 
 Hereward, with a great effort. 
 
 " 'Caze I knows all about it, young marse, an' T 
 knows whose 'mains dey war as war foun' in de 
 crik." 
 
 "Whose, in the name of Heaven, were they?" 
 
 "Dey war doze ob dat po', des'late young creeter 
 wot war murdered by her man, an' t'rowed inter de 
 crik dat same night, as I could a testimonied at de 
 Cow's Quest, ef I had been sent for or eben ef I had 
 known wot war gwine on yere at de time. But no 
 one fought ob sendin' for me, a ole 'oman cripple up 
 wid de rheumatiz an' not able to creep no furder 
 dan to fill my bucket at de spring outside de do'! 
 'Deed, I nebber heerd nuffin 'tall 'bout wot happen 
 till it war too late to edify de Cow's Jury. Soon as I 
 did year it, I creeped up yere to tell yer wot I knowed; 
 but yer war too ill to be 'sturbed so dey said, an'
 
 14 LILITH 
 
 I 'spect as dey war yight. So I 'solved to keep de 
 secret till yer war able for to year it; 'caze I didn't 
 want to make no mo' stracshun in de neighborhood 
 wid no mo' news till I could 'vise long ob you 'bout 
 it, sah. An' so I come up yere two or three times 
 ebbery week, but dey wouldn' leabe me come to yer 
 no dey wouldn'! I's moughty t'ankful as I has 
 cotch yer to-day, Marse Tudor." 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 NEW HOPE 
 
 HEREWARD was suffering from terrible excitement. 
 iWe said a little while since that his soul seemed dead 
 within him. And as resuscitation is always more dis- 
 tressing than asphyxia, so the infusion of a ray of 
 hope that gave new life to his spirit caused much 
 anguish. 
 
 It required all his recovered power of mind to con- 
 trol his emotion. 
 
 "Adah!" he said, "what you tell me is so strange, 
 so startling, so incredible, that I have the greatest 
 difficulty in receiving it! What good reason have you 
 for believing believing that?" 
 
 Again Hereward broke down. 
 
 "Dat de 'mains foun' in de crik wor not doze ob 
 my dear young mist'ess, but wor doze ob dat young 
 gal wot wor made way wid by her man? Yer see I 
 kin 'lude to dem 'mains d'out lozin' ob my head 'caze 
 I knows dey wor doze ob dat po' murdered gal. Ef I 
 eben s'picioned as dey wor doze ob my dear young 
 mist'ess I couldn' speak ob dem, no, no mo' dan yer 
 can yerse'f, Marse Tudor."
 
 LILITH 15 
 
 "Yes; but what proof what proof have you?" 
 breathlessly inquired Hereward. 
 
 "Fs gwine to tell yer, Marse Tudor, ef yer will on'y 
 'pose yerse'f an' hab patience. 'Deed, I 'spects as Mrs. 
 Jab'll take de head offen my shou'ders fo' 'citin' ob 
 yer so." 
 
 "Yes; but what proof? what proof?" 
 
 "Fs gwine to tell yer, Marse Tudor, 'deed I is. 
 Yer 'member dat mornin' w'en yer come 'quirin' at my 
 cabin 'bout Miss Lilif?" 
 
 "Yes, yes; you asked me that question some time 
 back." 
 
 "So I did, Marse Tudor; an' I ax ob yer pardon fo' 
 axin' it ag'in. It wor on'y to 'mind yer of de day, 
 marse. Yer 'member as I tole yer how de young 
 mist'ess had gib dat po' gal lots ob wittles an' drink, 
 an' close, an' money, fo' herse'f an' me, too? Yer 
 'member dat, young marse?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "An' likewise as I tole yer how her man come in un- 
 expected dat same night, an' eat up all de good 
 wittles, and drunk up all de good licker, an' tuk all de 
 money, an' 'polled her to go 'way 'long o' him dat same 
 night?" 
 
 "Yes, I remember. Go on." 
 
 "Well, Marse Tudor, I tole yer all dat; but I didn't 
 fink ob tellin' ob yer all de little trifles w'ich 'peared 
 no 'count sich as he makin' ob her dress herse'f in 
 her close to go 'long ob him dose berry close wot 
 Mis Lilif gib her dat warm cashy gown, an' de 
 nice unnerclose, an' de pooty French boots, an' de 
 little hat all wot was tied up in de bundle did he 
 make her take out an' put on to go 'long ob him 
 genteel. No, I didn't tell yer dat; nor likewise as 
 how she 'beyed him in 'spect ob de close, but 'posed 
 him when he tuk ebberyfin' out'n de house an' lef 
 me nuffin'. An' dey bofe went 'way quarrelin'
 
 16 LILITH 
 
 quarrelin' werry bitter, an' I yeard 'em at it till dey 
 got out ob yearin' an' next minit I heerd an awful 
 screech, an' den anoder, an' anoder. An' I say: 
 'Dere, now,' I say, 'he's beatin' ob her, de brute!' 
 An' den dere was silence. An' I nebber fought no 
 wuss ob it, dan it wor bad 'nuff, but not so uncom- 
 mon as to keep me 'wake." 
 
 Old Adah paused for breath, while Herewartf 
 waited for her next words with intense anxiety. At 
 length she resumed: 
 
 "I nebber tole yer 'bout dese las' mentioned fings, 
 'caze I fought den dey was on'y trifles; but, Lor 5 , 
 who kin tell wot is trifles, or wot trifles is gwine to 
 mount up to 'fo' dey's done wid yer? It wor dem 
 berry trifles, w'ich I fought ob no 'count, as would 
 indentified dem 'mains wot was foun' in de crik for 
 doze ob dat po' young gal, ef on'y I hed been sent 
 fer to edify de Cow's Quest. Dere! My Lor'! mnr 
 what is I done?" cried the old woman, rising in alarm 
 and peering into the face of the young master, who 
 had fallen back into his seat in what seemed to be a 
 dead swoon. 
 
 She took up the hand-bell, and was about to sound 
 an alarm for help, when her wrist was feebly grasped, 
 and her name faintly called. 
 
 "Adah no don't ring! Wait I shall recover 
 presently. Give me time," whispered Hereward, 
 making a great effort to rally. 
 
 After a little while he said: 
 
 "If what you tell me is true and I have no rea- 
 son to doubt your word then it was really the body 
 of that poor girl which was found in the creek, and 
 your mistress is still living. But, Adah, I commend 
 your discretion in keeping silent so long; and I ad- 
 vise you to the same course. Speak to no one of 
 this matter. Let it remain for the present a secret 
 between you and me."
 
 LILITH 17 
 
 "Old Adah, highly flattered by the thought of hav- 
 ing a secret in common with her master, kept from 
 all the rest of the world, warmly responded: 
 
 "I kep' dat secret to myse'f all dis time, waitin' 
 fo' yer to be well 'nuff to hear it, an' I will keep on 
 keepin' it, marster, an' red hot pinchers shouldn' pull 
 it out'n me till yer say so." 
 
 "I do not want any more neighborhood gossip or 
 excitement over this matter. I do not want the 
 sacred name of my wife bandied about from mouth 
 to mouth in speculating as to what has become of 
 her. I must confer with my own tried and trusty 
 friends and the local authorities, and we must take 
 counsel together. You understand, Adah?" 
 
 "Surely, surely, young marster, I unnerstan's so 
 puffect dat dat wor de reason w'y I kep' wot I kno'd 
 to myse'f till I could tell it to yo', Marse Tudor." 
 
 "Very well. Now I think I must be alone for a 
 little while. Do you go into the kitchen and tell 
 Nancy or Gassy to give you whatever you would 
 like in the way of refreshments." 
 
 "Tank yer, Marse Tudor; I will go. Yer was allers 
 so 'siderate to de po'," gratefully replied the woman, 
 as she stooped and picked up her stick, slowly arose 
 and hobbled away towards the rear of the house. 
 
 Hereward, left alone, pressed his hands to his head. 
 
 "Am I dreaming?" he asked himself. "Is this one 
 of those delirious visions that tortured or delighted 
 me during the progress of my fever? Lilith not 
 dead? Lilith living? Oh, Heaven! can such a hap- 
 piness be really still possible to me, that I should see 
 Lilith again in the flesh? Oh, Heaven! that this could 
 come to pass! All evils of life would be nothing if 
 only Lilith could, peradventure, be restored to me 
 living. I would no longer care for all the fame and 
 glory that this world could give me, if only my child 
 wife could be returned to me! But can this be pos-
 
 18 LILITH 
 
 sible? What balance of proof is there in favor of her 
 continued life, in the face of the verdict of that 
 coroners jury? I do not know; I cannot weigh evi- 
 dence to-day! I am weak! I am weak! Kerr will 
 be here soon. I will ask him what he thinks about 
 the matter. I will tell him all and I will take his 
 opinion." 
 
 As Hereward communed with himself in this man- 
 ner the door opened, and Mrs. Jab Jordon came out 
 on the piazza, bringing in her hands a silver waiter 
 upon which was arranged a china plate of chicken 
 jelly, another plate of delicate biscuits, a small de- 
 canter of port wine, and a wine glass. 
 
 She set the waiter with its contents upon the little 
 stand beside Hereward's chair, and then, looking at 
 the invalid critically, she inquired: 
 
 "What is the matter with you? You have been 
 worrying and exciting yourself about something. 
 And you know that is not good for you. Come, now, 
 I want you to eat all this jelly and drink at least 
 two glasses of wine, and then, as the sun is coming 
 around this way and it is getting warm, I want you 
 to come in and take your noon sleep." 
 
 Hereward smiled faintly and tried obediently to 
 do as the lady bade him; but it is doubtful whether 
 he would have accomplished the task before him had 
 not Mrs. Jab drawn up a chair and drilled him into 
 compliance. 
 
 When he had finished his light meal she took his 
 arm and led him into the house and upstairs to the 
 new room that had been prepared for him, and made 
 him lie down on his bed. 
 
 Meanwhile, old Adah had gone into the kitchen, 
 where she found Nancy superintending the prepara- 
 tions for dinner, while Gassy and the two younger 
 negro women were engaged in paring potatoes, shel- 
 ling peas, and capping strawberries.
 
 LILITH 19 
 
 "Aloruiiv, chillun! How does all do dis fine mor- 
 nin'?" said the old woman, as she slowly and stiffly 
 lowered herself into the nearest chair and laid her 
 stick on the floor. 
 
 "Mornin', Aunt Adah!" returned a chorus of voices, 
 as the three women stopped their work and came 
 around her. 
 
 "Glad to see de young ruarster out ag'in!" said 
 Adah. 
 
 "Yes, he is out ag'in wot's lef ob him! 'Deed 
 it's awful! Makes me fink ob my latter en'," said 
 Nancy, with a deep sigh. 
 
 "Yes, it's a warnin'! It's a warnin'l" put in Gassy, 
 without exactly defining what '"it" meant. 
 
 " 'Deed I gwine look out an' see ef I can't j'in some 
 more s'ieties. I 'longs to sebben or eight now, but 
 I ain't satisfied in my own mine w'ich is de yight 
 one, or eben ef any ob deui I 'long to is de yight 
 one. An' dere can't be but one yight one, no way." 
 
 "Chile Nancy, I fink as yer 'longs to too many 
 s'ieties. Now, one is 'nough for me, w'ich dat is de 
 Kebbernt Marse Parson Cave's s'iety, w'ich is good 
 'nough. for me, 'caze arter all it is de Lord I trus' in 
 and not de s'iety," humbly suggested old Adah. 
 
 "G'way f'oin yere, ole 'oman! Yer dunno wot yer 
 talkin' 'bout! In dese yere drefful times I want to 
 be on de safe side; so I j'ines all de s'ieties I kin flue 
 so as to get de yight one! I done hear ob two more 
 s'ieties way out yonder some'ars, w'ich I mean to 
 j'in soon's ebber I get de chance." 
 
 "Two more s'ieties, A'n' Nancy!" exclaimed Cely 
 opening her eyes to their widest extent. 
 
 "Yes, honey; yes, chillun! W'ich one is le' me 
 see now wot's deir names a'gn? One is called de 
 Shakin' Quakers. An' dat s'iety would suit me good, 
 leastways in some fings; 'caze I doan beliebe in 
 marr'in an' gibbin' in marridge no mo' dan dey do;
 
 20 LILITH 
 
 an' as fer de res' ob it, w'y, ebbery time I gets 
 de fever'n' ager I ken shake an' quake wid de bes' ob 
 'em! An' dere's dat oder s'iety, 'way out yonder 
 soni'ers, as is called de More-men. But I misdoubts 
 as dat one kin be de yight one, 'caze dey's just oppo- 
 side to de oder one, an' beliebes in a doctrine called 
 Pulliginy, an' libs up to it, to be sure, w'ich is mo' 
 dan some s'ieties do deir doctrines." 
 
 "Wot's Pulligiuy, Nancy, chile?" inquired old Adah. 
 
 "Pulliginy is de More-men perswashun. It means 
 as a 'oman may marr' as many husband's as she kin 
 take care ob! An' marster knows dat wouldn't suit 
 me at all. I never could hab patience 'nuff wid de 
 po' he-creeturs to marr' one husban', much less a 
 whole pulliginy ob 'em. No I can't say as I 'mire 
 de More-men doctorine. Dough I is much exercise 
 in my mine fear it might be de on'y yight one. Sure 
 'nuff, it must hab crosses 'nuff in it ef dat would sabe 
 a soul." 
 
 "Nancy, chile, w'y can't yer trus' in de Lord, an' 
 not trouble so much 'bout de s'ieties?" inquired old 
 Adah. 
 
 " 'Caze I wants to be zactly yight an' sabe my soul 
 an' go to Glory. But as for you, Aunt Adah, wot 
 do you expec' as nebber goes inside ob any church?" 
 demanded Nancy. 
 
 "Honey, 1 hum'ly hopes de dear Lord will sabe 
 my soul, 'caze I can't go to church in my 'streme ole 
 age ninety-nine years old las' Can'lemas Day. Can't 
 walk nigh so far, honey, an' can't sit so long; but 
 I trus' in de Lord." 
 
 "An' you, 'lectin' de s'ieties as you do s'pects to go 
 to Glory?" demanded Nancy, full of righteous indig- 
 nation. 
 
 "No, honey, no not to Glory. I nebber 'sumed to 
 fink ob sich a fing as dat. But I do hope as de dear 
 Lord will let me in to some little place in His kingdom
 
 LILITH 21 
 
 some little house by some little crik running up 
 out'n de Ribber ob Life, whey I can lib in lub 'long ob 
 my dear ole man an' our chillun wot all went home so 
 many years ago. Dat's wot I hum'ly trus' in de Lord 
 to gib me." 
 
 "A'n' Adah, wouldn' yer like a bowlful of beef 
 soup?" inquired Cassy, breaking in upon this discus- 
 sion. 
 
 "Yes, chile, I would, w'ich de young marster said as 
 I might hab a tumbler ob b'andy toddy, too." 
 
 "All yight. So you shall. An' yer'd better stay all 
 day wid us an' get bofe a good dinner an' a good sup- 
 per, an' Cely an' Mandy 'ill take you home." 
 
 "T'anky, kindly, Cassy, chile, so I will," concluded 
 the aged woman, settling herself comfortably for a 
 whole day's enjoyment. 
 
 Early in the afternoon the Rev. Mr. Cave and Dr. 
 Kerr drove over together to see Tudor Hereward. 
 
 They were shown at once to his chamber, where 
 they found him reclining on a lounge near the open 
 window. 
 
 "You have been sitting out on the piazza this morn- 
 ing, I hear," said the doctor, after the first greetings 
 were over. 
 
 "Yes, for two hours," replied Hereward. 
 
 "Too long for a first effort. You have overtasked 
 yourself." 
 
 "No, it is not that, doctor. Please lock the door, 
 to prevent interruption, and draw your chairs up to 
 me, both of you. I have some strange news to com- 
 municate, which I received this morning," said Here- 
 ward, in some nervous trepidation. 
 
 "Yes! and that is just what has excited and ex- 
 hausted you," said Dr. Kerr, as he complied with 
 Here ward's request, sat down beside him and felt his 
 pulse. 
 
 "And yet it was good news, if I can judge by the
 
 22 LILITH 
 
 expression of your face, Tudor," put in the rector, 
 wondering, meanwhile, what good news could pos- 
 sibly have come to this awfully bereaved man. 
 
 "Yes, it was good news, if true; and there lies the 
 great anxiety," replied Hereward. 
 
 And then to these two oldest of old friends and 
 neighbors, the pastor of the parish and the physician 
 of the family, Tudor Hereward told the story that 
 had been told him by old Adah. 
 
 The two gentlemen were not so much amazed as 
 the narrator had expected them to be, yet they were 
 most profoundly interested. 
 
 "There must always be a doubt in these cases where 
 the proof of identification seems to be in the clothing 
 only, and not in the person," said the doctor. 
 
 "That is certainly so. Clothing may have changed 
 hands, as in this instance," added the rector. 
 
 "I want your decided opinion, if you can give it 
 to me, on this subject. It is no exaggeration to say 
 that if it can be shown that the remains identified 
 before the coroner's jury as those of my wife, were 
 in reality not hers, but of another person, I should 
 be lifted from death and despair to life and hope. 
 For look you, my friends, in all the long and dreary 
 days and in all the long and sleepless nights, I say 
 to myself, that whoever struck the fatal blow, I, and 
 I only, am the original cause of Lilith's death," said 
 Hereward. 
 
 "You are so morbid on that subject that I despair 
 of ever bringing you to reason," sighed the rector. 
 
 "At least until I have brought him to health! The 
 body and mind are so nearly connected that when 
 one is weakened or diseased, the other is apt to be 
 so too," added the doctor. 
 
 "You are both mistaken. My remorse and despair 
 have nothing to do with health of body or mind. 
 Thev are both normal and natural. Listen to me.
 
 LILITH 23 
 
 If I, in the madness of the moment, had not insulted, 
 outraged, and driven my young wife from my side, 
 she would never have gone forth that bitter winter 
 night to meet the cruel death at the hands of some 
 midnight marauder according to the verdict of the 
 coroner's jury." 
 
 "But you did not send her to the creek/' said the 
 doctor. 
 
 "No! but I might as well have done so! Oh! I 
 knew how it was or might have been for I will 
 still hope that it was not so. She knowing that she 
 was about to leave the Cliffs for an indefinite time, 
 thought of the poor old woman who might suffer in 
 her absence, and determined that she would pay her 
 a last visit and leave with her provision in money, 
 which could be easily carried to last her for a long 
 time. In her feeling of mortification at having been 
 cast off by her husband, she chose to go alone, so as 
 not to expose her distress to any one not even to a 
 faithful servant. So, before setting out on her long 
 journey, she started to visit old Adah, at the creek 
 cabin, and met her fate through me." 
 
 "If she did meet her fate! But, Hereward, I am 
 inclined to believe the old woman's story," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 "And so do I," added the rector. 
 
 "There is only one doubt," replied Hereward, 
 "and it is this: The identification by the clothing 
 only must still be unsatisfactory. Lilith was in 
 mourning for niy father. Her dress was always black, 
 and of one pattern that is, her ordinary dress, I 
 mean, of course. It seems that she gave a suit of her 
 clothing to that poor girl. What of that? She had 
 other suits of the same sort of clothing, and wore 
 one of those that same night, for she wore no other 
 sort on common occasions. And the fear is that when 
 she set out to visit old Adah at the creek cabin, she
 
 24 LILITH 
 
 was met, robbed and murdered by this tramp and 
 his girl, and that it was her screams that old Adah 
 heard. For remember, that Lilith's watch and purse 
 have never been found, nor any trace of Lilith herself, 
 
 unless that found " Hereward's voice broke down, 
 
 and his head fell back upon his pillow. 
 
 Dr. Kerr went to a. side table and poured out a 
 glass of wine, which he brought and compelled his 
 patient to drink. 
 
 "At any rate, Tudor, there is a very reasonable 
 hope that Lilith still lives. Let this hope sustain and 
 not exhaust you. Leave the matter in the hands of 
 Divine Providence, first of all, and in the hands of 
 your two friends as his servants and instruments. 
 Say nothing of this to any one else. It would not 
 be well to open up such a subject of discussion in 
 this neighborhood. Wait until we have used every 
 human means of discovering the whereabouts of your 
 Lilith," said the rector, earnestly. 
 
 "Yes, that's it! Leave the affair to us, under Provi- 
 dence! We have no certainty; but the new hope is 
 better than despair," added the doctor. 
 
 And to support moral teaching by physical means, 
 he made up a sedative draught and left it with his 
 patient. 
 
 The doctor and the rector went away together, 
 much wondering at the new aspect given to the Cliff 
 Creek tragedy by the revelations of old Adah. 
 
 They kept this revelation to themselves, and went 
 about secretly trying to get some clew, either to the 
 whereabouts of Lilith, or of the young girl to whom 
 she had given a suit of her own clothes. 
 
 They visited old Adah in her cabin, and using her 
 young master's, Tudor Hereward's, name, questioned 
 her closely on the subject of the events that had 
 transpired in her cabin on the night of the murder.
 
 LILITH 25 
 
 They cross-questioned her with, a skill and persever- 
 ance that Hereward, in his weakened condition, could 
 never have shown. And old Adah answered them by 
 revealing freely all she knew and all she suspected. 
 
 They came away from that interview thoroughly 
 convinced that the body found in the creek was that 
 of the gypsy girl to whom Lilith had given a suit of 
 her clothes. 
 
 They were again together to Cloud Cliffs, and told 
 the suffering master of the house of their new and 
 strong convictions on the subject. 
 
 "Lilith lives! Be sure of that! No stone shall be 
 left unturned to discover her, and her restoration to 
 your arms is only a question of time, and of a very 
 little time also," said the doctor. 
 
 "Bear up, Tudor! It rests with yourself, under the 
 Lord, to recover your former health and strength of 
 body and mind. Rouse yourself! Be the calm, strong, 
 firm man that you have heretofore shown yourself," 
 added the rector. 
 
 And Hereward grasped their hands and thanked 
 them warmly for their sympathy and services. 
 
 "But though we feel sure that Lilith lives, and 
 that we shall find her before many days, yet still, to 
 avoid giving rise to a sensational report, we have 
 determined to continue our first policy of reticence 
 until we shall really have found Lilith and restored 
 her to her home. Do you not approve our plan, Here- 
 ward?" inquired the doctor. 
 
 "Yes, certainly, that is the best," answered the 
 young man. 
 
 The two friends took leave of the patient and de- 
 parted. 
 
 "All the same," said the doctor, as they walked 
 out together and re-entered their gig, "if Lilith is
 
 26 LILITH 
 
 not soon recovered, Tudor must die. The strain upon 
 him is too great to be borne." 
 
 "Let us trust in the Lord," said the rector, "and 
 hope for a happier issue." 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE NIGHT-PASSENGER'S NEWS 
 
 Rise! If the past detain you, 
 
 Her sunshine and storms forget; 
 No chains so unworthy to hold you 
 
 As those of a vain regret 
 Sad or bright, it is lifeless ever, 
 
 Cast its phantom arms away, 
 Nor look back but to learn the lesson 
 
 Of a nobler strife to-day. 
 The future has deeds of glory, 
 
 Of honor God grant it may! 
 But your arm will never be stronger 
 
 Or the need so great as to-day. 
 
 A. A. P. 
 
 THE Rev. Mr. Cave and the good Dr. Kerr, both 
 devoted friends of Tudor Hereward, had promised 
 him to leave nothing untried that might lead to a 
 clew to trace the fate of the missing women. For 
 to reach the truth more promptly and effectually it 
 was deemed highly important to institute an exhaus- 
 tive investigation into the movements of both the lost 
 ones, from the day of their disappearance. 
 
 One of them lay in her grave, in the village church- 
 yard; and the other had vanished. 
 
 But which was the dead and which was the living, 
 no human being at Frosthill could prove. 
 
 The negroes and the neighbors had identified the
 
 LILITH 27 
 
 body thrown up by the spring flood from the bed of 
 the creek and found in the ravine as that of young 
 Mrs. Tudor Here ward; but they had identified it only 
 by the clothing and by the long, black, curling hair 
 only by these; for "decay's effacing finger" had 
 blotted out every feature beyond recognition. 
 
 And this held good for the truth until old Adah de- 
 clared in the most solemn manner her conviction that 
 the remains were those of the poor gypsy girl Lucille, 
 giving strong reasons to support her statement. 
 
 Lucille was dressed in a suit of young Mrs. Here- 
 ward's clothes, which had been bestowed on her by 
 that lady. 
 
 Lucille had left Adah's hut that fatal night, in com- 
 pany with her ruffian husband, with whom she had 
 ventured to remonstrate on his robbing the poor old 
 woman of the goods sent her by Mrs. Hereward; and 
 they had gone away quarreling until they were out 
 of hearing; soon after which, and at about the time 
 they might have reached the point where the path 
 through the woods passed over the bridge crossing 
 the creek, a piercing shriek rang through the air fol- 
 lowed by another and another, startling the bed-ridden 
 old woman in the hut and filling her soul with terror. 
 
 Then all was still as death. 
 
 Old Adah had not at that time suspected the man 
 of killing his wife, but only of beating her brutally, 
 as he had been in the habit of doing. 
 
 Xever until she heard of the body that had been 
 found did she think of murder. 
 
 Then, at the first opportunity, she had told her 
 story and given her opinion to the convalescent mas- 
 ter of the Cliffs, who, in her judgment, was entitled 
 to the first information. 
 
 Tudor Here ward's "wish" was certainly "father to 
 the thought" when he gave so ready a credence to 
 old Adah's story, and called his two oldest and most
 
 28 LILITH 
 
 faithful friends into counsel as to the best means of 
 ascertaining the truth. 
 
 And they, without committing themselves to any 
 positive opinion for, in such a case, they could have 
 no just grounds for entertaining one had pledged 
 their words to leave "no stone unturned" for discov- 
 ering the truth. 
 
 To do so, they knew that they must search for 
 clews for both the missing women. 
 
 And they searched long, thoroughly, but fruitlessly, 
 until near the end of May. 
 
 They ascertained from the accounts of the ticket 
 agent at Frosthill that two passengers only had 
 bought tickets for the midnight express on that fatal 
 21st of March. One was a ruffianly young man, he 
 the agent was sure, but the other he could not de- 
 scribe at all. 
 
 Now who were those two passengers? 
 
 The uttermost efforts of our amateur detectives 
 failed to discover. They could find no one in the 
 village or in the surrounding country who had taken 
 the train that night. 
 
 The "ruffianly young man" mentioned by the ticket 
 agent was probably the husband of the poor gyp?y 
 girl; but who was the other passenger? Was she 
 his w r ife, traveling with him, as they had set out from 
 the hut to do, or was it Lilith, who was a mere ac- 
 cidental fellow-passenger? 
 
 No one could tell. 
 
 And so the time passed in fruitless search and heart- 
 sickening suspense, until late in May, when one morn- 
 ing, as Dr. Kerr was seated in his office, the door 
 opened and a stranger entered. 
 
 The doctor, believing the visitor to be a patient, 
 arose and offered him a chair. 
 
 "Thank you, sir. I dare say you are surprised to
 
 LILITH 9 
 
 see me, sir," said the man, as he seated himself, took 
 off his hat and wiped his face. 
 
 "Not at all. Strangers sometimes honor me with 
 a call," blandly replied the doctor. 
 
 "Yes, I know, for medical advice, with a fee in 
 their hands, and then they have a right to come, and 
 you are glad to see them. But I don't want any medi- 
 cal advice whatever, and I haven't brought any fee; 
 and that's the reason why I am afraid you will think 
 I am intruding." 
 
 "Not at all, if I can serve you in any way," politely 
 replied the doctor. 
 
 "Yes, but you can't even do that! I don't stand in 
 need of services." 
 
 "Then will you kindly enlighten me as to the circum- 
 stance to which I am indebted for this honor?" in- 
 quired the doctor, with a smile of amusement. 
 
 "Do you mean to ask what brought me here?" 
 
 "Yes, if you please." 
 
 "Well, I don't mind telling you. I should have to do 
 it anyway, because that is what I came for. My name 
 is Carter, and I came from Maryland." 
 
 "Yes?" smiled the doctor. 
 
 "And have been traveling through the country here 
 looking for land." 
 
 "Quite so, and you have found a great deal." 
 
 "I mean, and to buy. I hear that tand is very good 
 and cheap about here and the climate very healthy." 
 
 "All quite true; but I fear I cannot help you in the 
 least in that matter. You had better take counsel with 
 Lawyer Jordon, who acts as land agent occasionally," 
 said the doctor. 
 
 "Did I ask you to help me? I told you first off that 
 I didn't want any service." 
 
 "Then what in the name of " 
 
 "Sense have I come for?" 
 
 "Yes, if you please."
 
 SO LILITH 
 
 "Why, I am telling you, man! Being in search, of a 
 suitable farm, I have been traveling about these parts 
 considerable. Last night I came here and put up at 
 'The Stag.' Good house that!" 
 
 "Pretty good. Yes." 
 
 "Well, I did hear of a rum case. The body of that 
 young woman being found, and there being a dis- 
 tressing doubt whether it be that of young Mrs. Tudor 
 Hereward, who disappeared from the neighborhood 
 on the 21st of last March, or that of a little gypsy 
 tramp, who bore a great personal resemblance to that 
 lady, and who was suspected of having been made 
 way with by her ruffian of a husband!" 
 
 "Yes, yes," eagerly exclaimed the doctor, all his 
 listless indifference vanished. "Yes! You have heard 
 of that affair. You have been traveling about in this 
 region. Is it possible that you may be able to throw 
 some light on that dark subject?" 
 
 "I think I may; that is what has brought ine here 
 this morning. Perhaps I ought to have gone out to 
 the place they call the Cliffs to see Mr. Tudor Here- 
 ward himself; but they told me it was a matter of 
 six miles from the village, and that perhaps I had 
 better see you, as you were interested; and so here 
 I am." 
 
 "I am very glad you did. Now tell me quickly 
 what you have to tell, for I am extremely anxious to 
 hear," said the doctor, eagerly. 
 
 "Wait a bit! Let us see how the land lies first. 
 You say young Mrs. Hereward and the gypsy girl 
 looked alike?" 
 
 "In size, figure, and the unusual length and beauty 
 of their hair yes!" 
 
 "And that both disappeared from the neighborhood 
 the same night. At least so I heard from the talk at 
 the Stag." 
 
 "It was true."
 
 LILITH 31 
 
 "And a young woman's body was found near the 
 creek a month afterwards?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But so far gone that it could not be identified ex- 
 cept by the clothing?" 
 
 "True." 
 
 "And that clothing was recognized as having been 
 young Mrs. Hereward's?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And that proved to the coroner's jury the body 
 to be also young Mrs. Hereward's." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Until a certain old woman comes with a tale that 
 young Mrs. Hereward gave those clothes to the gypsy 
 girl?" 
 
 "You have a correct account." 
 
 "And so the doubt remains, which of the two miss- 
 ing women was killed and thrown into the creek, and 
 which levanted from the neighborhood?" 
 
 "Yes, that is the situation at present. Can you 
 help us to clear up the doubt?" anxiously inquired 
 the doctor. 
 
 "Well, I rather reckon I can clear it up pretty de- 
 cidedly, if not satisfactorily." 
 
 "What do you mean? Speak!" 
 
 "You were much interested in young Mrs. Here- 
 ward?" 
 
 "I was very much attached to her, having known 
 her from her infancy." 
 
 "Then I am afraid I am going to grieve you. I 
 am indeed," said the man, gravely and hesitatingly. 
 
 "Oh, what do you mean?" 
 
 "It was that young gypsy girl who took the train 
 at Frosthill at midnight of March 21st," said Carter, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 The doctor stared gravely for a moment, and then 
 inquired :
 
 32 LILITH 
 
 "How do .you know this?" 
 
 "Because I was on that very same train, and sat 
 in that very same car along with her." 
 
 "Man! Is this undoubtedly true?" demanded the 
 doctor. 
 
 "Well, I will tell you all about it, and then you 
 will see that it is true. I took the train at West- 
 bourne and traveled on until we got to Frosthill, 
 which it reached at midnight, and where it stopped 
 for one minute. Two passengers got on a young 
 man who looked like a young devil, saving your pres- 
 ence, he had such a dark, scowling, lowering face. 
 He was clothed in a rough overcoat, and had his 
 hands thrust into his pockets, and never offered the 
 least assistance to the young woman, who came creep- 
 ing and cowering behind him. I couldn't help but 
 notice them both, and saw at a glance that they were 
 man and wife, and that they had had a row, in which 
 the woman, of course, had come off second best. !Ue] 
 looked so wicked and sullen, and she so frightened 
 and broken-hearted. He just threw himself into i? 
 seat, and stretched out his legs over the top of an- 
 other one; and she slunk away into a corner, anjfli 
 turned her face to the wall, and cried fit to breciJi 
 her heart. And he never took any more notice of her; 
 than if she had been a dog. I wanted to kick him 
 all around the car. There was plenty of room to do 
 it, too, because there weren't a half a dozen people 
 in that car, all told. I got out at Snowden, about 
 twenty miles farther on, where I stopped over a day 
 to look at a farm, and I never thought any more about 
 that ruffian husband and gypsy wife until I came 
 here to Frosthill last night, and heard the whole story 
 of the mystery at the >M&g. And then I thought I 
 would tell you what I Had seen at the Frosthill sta- 
 tion, at midnight, on the twenty-first of March," con- 
 cluded the visitor.
 
 LILITH 33 
 
 "I thank you very much. Still, still, there may be 
 ground for a faint hope. How was this girl whom 
 you saw in the man's company dressed, do you re- 
 member?" inquired the doctor, with increased un- 
 easiness. 
 
 "Oh, yes; I remember quite well. She was clothed 
 in a red suit, with something dark about her head 
 and shoulders. And Mrs. Hereward was in deep 
 mourning, they say, for her father." 
 
 "Yes, she was," said the doctor, as the faint hope 
 died away. "And this red suit," he added, mentally, 
 "was, of course, the very suit that she used to wear 
 before she went in mourning, and which, of course, 
 she must have given to the girl in preference upon 
 every account of economy and fitness to giving her 
 a black one." 
 
 While the doctor was turning these hopeless 
 thoughts over in his mind the visitor arose and said: 
 
 "Well, sir, I have told you all I came to tell, and 
 now I must go. But I shall be in this neighborhood 
 for a few days longer, if anybody wants to ask me 
 any questions about this matter." 
 
 The doctor also arose and said: 
 
 "I thank you, Mr. Carter, for the trouble you are 
 taking, and shall, perhaps, have occasion to see you 
 again. You will be at the Stag?" 
 
 "Yes, mostly, for the rest of this week; but I shall 
 be riding round a good deal in the daytime, looking 
 at land, but always at home leastways at the hotel 
 at night, and shall be glad to see you or any one 
 you send. Good-morning, sir." 
 
 "Good-morning, Mr. Carter." 
 
 And the visitor left. 
 
 The doctor sat ruminating over what he had heard 
 for some time after he had been left alone. 
 
 At length, when his office hours were over, instead 
 of taking his noontide meal and rest as a prepara-
 
 34 LILITH 
 
 tion for his afternoon round of professional visits, lie 
 rang for his servant, ordered his horse, and started 
 on a ride to the Cliffs. 
 
 He did not go to the mansion house, but taking 
 a narrow bridle path through the woods to the creek, 
 he crossed the little rustic bridge, and drew up at 
 the log hut in the thicket on the other side. 
 
 Here he dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and 
 went up to the door, where he found old Adah sit- 
 ting in the sun, and busy with her knitting. 
 
 "Well, auntie, how is the rheumatism to-day?" he 
 inquired cheerfully, as the old woman stood up and 
 courtesied. 
 
 "T'anky, Marse Doctor, sah. Dis warm sun hab 
 melted it all out'n my bones. 'Deed it's de trufe. 
 Will you come inter de house, Marse Doctor, or take 
 a chair out yere?" she inquired, politely. 
 
 "I will stay out here," replied the doctor, as he 
 settled himself on a little bench outside the door. 
 
 "Have anyfing been j^eard 'bout po' dee Miss Lilif, 
 Marse Doctor?" anxiously questioned old Adah. 
 
 "No. Not since the verdict of the coroner's jury," 
 significantly replied Dr. Kerr. 
 
 "Oh, Lor', Marse Doctor, dat want nuffin. Dat 
 hadn' nuffin to do long ob Miss Lilif. Dat war de 
 gypsy gal wot war foun' in dem woods, and war sot 
 on by dat jury. I done tole Marse Tudor Her' ward 
 all bout dat a mont' ago," said old Adah, speaking 
 with the utmost confidence. 
 
 "Yes; I have heard so from Mr. Hereward him- 
 self. I know all the evidence you have brought for- 
 ward in rebuttal of the evidence given before the 
 coroner. I would to Heaven it had been as conclu- 
 sive as you thought. But we will not go into that. 
 I only wish to ask you a. few questions." 
 
 "Go on Marse Doctor. I'll answer de trufe. I ain't 
 got no secrets from nobody."
 
 LILITH 35 
 
 "Well, then, did you see the clothing worn by the 
 gypsy girl on the night she left the hut in company 
 with her husband?" 
 
 "Yes, Marse Doctor, I did. I yeard her say how 
 Missis Her'ward had gib it to her, an' I seed her put 
 it on, an' tie her ole close nuffin but duds dey was 
 in a bundle." 
 
 "What was the color of those clothes?" 
 
 "Dem wot she took off an' tied into a bundle?" 
 
 "No, no; those given her by Mrs. Hereward." 
 
 "Oh! dose as she wo' 'way?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Wot was it yer ax me 'bout 'em, Marse Doctor?" 
 
 "I asked you what color they were?" 
 
 "Oh! Dey was sort o' dark." 
 
 "Dark red?" 
 
 "Now, dey mought o' been. Or dey mought o' been 
 dark blue or dark black. You see, Marse Doctor, it 
 was sort o' dark in de house, an' it made eberyfing 
 look dark." 
 
 "Had you no light?" 
 
 "Nuffin' but a tallow dip dat didn' show much." 
 
 "And you can't be certain about the color of the 
 clothing?" 
 
 "No, Marse Doctor; on'y it were dark. I sort o' 
 fought it were dark black, but I dessay it were dark 
 red, jes' as you say." 
 
 The doctor asked a few more questions, and then 
 arose to depart. He put a half dollar into the hand 
 of the old woman, who thanked him heartily. And 
 then he remounted his horse and rode away along 
 the same bridle-path that led back through the 
 thicket to the little bridge crossing the creek, and by 
 a circuit through the next woods up to the mansion 
 house. 
 
 He found Tudor Hereward walking up and down 
 on the front piazza. He had convalesced so very
 
 36 LILITH 
 
 slowly that he had not yet been strong enough to take 
 a ride. 
 
 Hereward dropped heavily into a chair as the doctor 
 dismounted, threw his bridle to Steve, who came up 
 to take it, and walked up the steps. 
 
 "Any news, doctor?" anxiously inquired Mr. Here- 
 ward. 
 
 "Not a trace of Lilith yet. No, I did not come to 
 bring news, but to make a few investigations here in 
 the house that may lead to something." 
 
 "Very well, doctor; you have carte blanche. But 
 what is the nature of the Investigation in this in- 
 stance?" wearily inquired ^ereward. 
 
 "Into the wardrobe r ^our wife, to see what is miss- 
 ing, and what is left." 
 
 Hereward sighed, as if he were very weary of a 
 hopeless subject and then faintly replied: 
 
 "Why, you know that has been done, thoroughly, 
 and there is nothing missing but the one black water- 
 proof cloth suit that was found on the body of that 
 poor murdered gypsy girl." 
 
 "And that was Lilith's usual walking-dress when in 
 the country, w r as it not?" 
 
 "Yes, it was; but she gave it to that poor girl upon 
 whose dead body it was found." 
 
 "She gave a suit; but you do not know that it was 
 the waterproof suit she gave. She would not have 
 been likely to have given the suit that she was in the 
 habit of wearing, and that she could not very well do 
 without," suggested the doctor. 
 
 "Ah! but she did give it. It was found on the body 
 of the girl." 
 
 "You still feel so sure that it was the body of the 
 gypsy girl which was found?" 
 
 "Yes, I do. Oh, doctor, why do you doubt it?" de- 
 manded Hereward, with the fretful querulousness of 
 an invalid.
 
 LILITH 37 
 
 "Because we cannot be sure until the other miss- 
 ing one is found. Until the living one turns up we 
 cannot prove who is the dead," gravely replied the 
 physician. 
 
 "How much proof do you want? The dress that 
 Lilith gave to the gypsy girl was found on the dead 
 body." 
 
 "But you do not know that the black waterproof 
 cloth was the dress that was given by Lilith to the 
 girl. I repeat, that it was not likely that Lilith should 
 have given a vay a suit that was so necessary to her 
 own comfort, when she r-'jrbt have given others." 
 
 "But that is the only one /nissing from her ward- 
 robe." 
 
 "The only one missing from her wardrobe?" 
 
 "Yes. I have told you so twice before." 
 
 "Then, if Lilith is living, what dress did she wear 
 when she left home?" significantly inquired the doctor. 
 
 Hereward started, turned paler than before, and 
 stared fixedly at the questioner. He had never asked 
 himself that question. He stared, but did not speak. 
 
 "Tudor, my dear boy, we must look facts in the 
 face. And now I ask you, was the discarded ward- 
 robe of your wife examined when the investigation 
 was made?" 
 
 "The discarded wardrobe?" questioned Hereward, 
 with a perplexed look. 
 
 '"Yes; I mean the colored clothing that she left 
 off and packed away when she went into mourning 
 for your father?" 
 
 "Of course it was not touched. She would not 
 have been likely to wear colored clothing in her deep 
 mourning." 
 
 "No, of course she would not. But she would have 
 been very likely to give that left-off colored clothing 
 to the gypsy instead of the mourning suit, which 
 would have been unsuitable to the girl."
 
 38 LILITH 
 
 Again Hereward started, changed color and gazed 
 at the speaker, but without uttering a word. 
 
 "Come, Hereward, let us send for Nancy and have 
 her search through her mistress' left-off clothing, to 
 see if any portion of it is missing. Shall I ring?" 
 inquired the doctor. 
 
 "If you please," faltered the young man, sinking 
 back into his chair. 
 
 Dr. Kerr rang the door-bell which was soon an- 
 swered by Alick, who had reinstated himself in his 
 place as butler at the Cliffs, but who was still a poor, 
 broken-hearted old man, grieving for his young 
 mistress, and accusing himself of being her murderer. 
 
 "Go and tell Nancy to come here," said Dr. Kerr. 
 
 Alick ducked his head and disappeared. 
 
 Nancy soon stood in his place. 
 
 "Aunty," said the doctor, speaking for his young 
 friend and patient, "I wish you to open all Mrs. Here- 
 ward's boxes of colored clothing, and examine every 
 article and find out if any be missing." 
 
 "Berry well, sah," said the woman, turning and 
 going to do her errand. 
 
 The doctor followed her into the house, went to 
 the corner buffet in Lilith's parlor, and took out a 
 certain liqueur case, opened it, and proceeded to mix 
 a strong, restorative cordial, which he brought out 
 and placed on the stand beside Hereward's chair, 
 saying: 
 
 "Drink half of that now, Hereward, and leave the 
 rest." 
 
 The young man obeyed, and then, as he put down 
 the half emptied glass, he inquired: 
 
 "What is it that you expect to prove by this new 
 search, doctor?" 
 
 "Wait and see, dear boy! I do not yet know what 
 myself."
 
 LILITH 39 
 
 About half an hour passed, and Nancy came down- 
 stairs. 
 
 "Well, auntie, have you missed anything?" inquired 
 Dr. Kerr. 
 
 "Yes, Marse Doctor. Miss Lilifs red cashmere 
 dress, w'ich was her mos' favorite home dress, an' 
 w'ich she wo' de werry day 'fo' she was marr'd, an' 
 'fo' ole marse died, an' nebber wored since den." 
 
 "And are you sure it is gone?" 
 
 "Yes, Marse Doctor, sure, 'cause I knowed whey 
 I packed it away, an' nobody ebber went to dat trunk 
 'cept it was me an' Miss Lilif." 
 
 "And what do you think has become of it, Nancy?" 
 
 "Well, Marse Doctor, I s'pose as po' dee Miss Lilif 
 give it to dat po' gal wot come beggin'. I know she 
 did give her a bundle of close, 'caze I helped dat gal 
 to carry dat bundle t'rough de woods an' 'cross de 
 crik to ole Aunt Adah's house." 
 
 "Did you see what was in the bundle, Nancy?" 
 
 "No, Marse Doctor, not I. I warn't upstairs in 
 Miss Lilifs room w'en she give 'way dem close, I 
 war downsta'rs in de store room packing ob a bas- 
 ket wid tea an' sugar, an' bread, an' meat, an' fings, 
 to tote to po' ole Aunt Adah, 'cordin' to Miss Lilifs 
 orders, an' I nebber seen dat bundle till dat gal 
 fotch it downsta'rs, an' I nebber seen wot war in- 
 side ob it; but de gal tell me, as I went along wid 
 her, how de young madame had gib her a good 
 dress, an' dat it must a been dat red cashmere dress 
 wot de young mist'ess couldn' wear herse'f, 'stead of 
 bein' de black mournin' dress wot she could wear; 
 let alone de fac' dat de young gal wouldn't a-liked 
 to 'cepted a mournin' dress, not bein' in no mournin'. 
 It wouldn't a been lucky." 
 
 "You are right," said the doctor. "It was the red 
 cashmere dress that Mrs. Hereward gave to the girl,
 
 40 LILITH 
 
 and that the girl wore when she left the neighbor- 
 hood that night." 
 
 "Oh, most merciful Heaven, doctor! Do you mean 
 to knock from under me the last prop of hope that 
 sustains me?" groaned Hereward, sinking back pale 
 and faint as any woman might have looked at such 
 a crisis. 
 
 "Hush, Tudor! Drink this," said Dr. Kerr, plac- 
 ing the glass of restorative cordial to his lips. 
 
 Hereward emptied the glass, and the doctor set it 
 down, and continued: 
 
 "I deprive you of no real hope, Tudor, but of a 
 false hope which, instead of being a prop to support 
 you, is a burden that is wearing you out with anxiety. 
 The sooner you give up all hope the sooner you will 
 be able to resign yourself to the inevitable and find 
 peace and rest for your spirit." 
 
 "But I cannot! I cannot resign all hope! I can- 
 not!" passionately exclaimed the young man. 
 
 "Listen to me further. Hear all that I have to say 
 and you must do so," gravely and tenderly replied 
 the doctor. 
 
 "What have you to tell me now? You said you 
 had no news to bring me of Lilith. You said so when 
 you first came in and I asked you the question." 
 
 "And I spoke the truth," patiently replied the old 
 man. "I had no news of Lilith. But I had news of 
 the gypsy girl, which ah me! leaves me no doubt 
 as to whose remains they were that were found in 
 the woods." 
 
 "Oh, Heaven! Oh, Heaven!" groaned Hereward. 
 "But tell me all! I can bear it! Yes, I can bear it!'' 
 
 "There is a man by the name of Carter now stop- 
 ping at the Stag, who was in the train at midnight 
 of March 21st, w r hen the strolling player and his 
 gypsy wife got on board. He was a sullen ruffian in 
 coarse clothing. She a pretty, dark-eyed gypsy?
 
 LILITH 41 
 
 with black hair, and she was dressed in a red suit, 
 with something dark about her head and shoulders. 
 They were the only people who got in that train at 
 Frosthill. They had been quarreling, and the man 
 had a scowling, ferocious look, while the w T oman 
 seemed terrified and broken-hearted. Does not this 
 coincide perfectly with all that we have heard about 
 the poor girl and her ruffianly companion?" gently 
 inquired the doctor. 
 
 Hereward replied only by a groan. 
 
 "Come, Tudor! I must take you upstairs. You 
 must lie down, and I will send Cave to you," said the 
 doctor, with gentle firmness. 
 
 But it was with considerable difficulty that the doc- 
 tor finally prevailed on his deeply stricken patient 
 to seek the rest and retirement of his own chamber. 
 
 Then Dr. Kerr, leaving Xancy in charge of the sick- 
 room, went downstairs, got into his saddle and rode 
 off, dinnerless, to make a round of professional visits 
 on a circuit of at least thirty miles. It was very 
 late in the afternoon when he finally reached Frost- 
 hill. 
 
 Even then, before going home, he stopped at the 
 rectory and had half an hour's interview with the 
 Rev. Mr. Cave, in which he told the latter of all the 
 news he had received and all the discoveries he had 
 made concerning the fate of Lilith, during the day. 
 He ended by asking the rector to go with him to the 
 Stag to see and question Carter. 
 
 Mr. Cave put on his hat and walked with Dr. Kerr 
 the short distance that lay between the rectory and 
 the hotel. 
 
 They found Carter smoking in the little reading- 
 room. He willingly accompanied the gentlemen to 
 the parlor, at their request, and closeted there, he 
 readily answered every question put to him, but,
 
 42 LILITH 
 
 after all, they elicited nothing more than had been 
 told to the doctor that morning. 
 
 At the end of the interview they thanked Carter 
 and took leave of him. 
 
 "And, after all," sighed Mr. Cave, "the verdict of 
 the coroner's jury was right." 
 
 "Yes," assented the doctor, "it was right! And 
 now I do not think we have far to look for the das- 
 tardly murderer of Lilith Hereward." 
 
 "Whom do you suspect?" inquired the rector, in a 
 low, awe-stricken voice. 
 
 "The ruffian husband of the gypsy girl who was on 
 the creek the same night of her death." 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A STARTLING VISIT 
 
 EARLY next morning Mr. Cave, in accordance with 
 the request of Dr. Kerr, went to the Cliffs to spend 
 the day with Tudor Hereward. He found the young 
 man too ill to leave his room, seated in a reclining- 
 chair near the open window. 
 
 The effects of alternate hope and fear ending at 
 last in despair deepened by remorse. 
 
 Mr. Cave sat down beside him and essayed to com- 
 fort him; but he did not succeed. Loss, sorrow and 
 disappointment may be consoled, but remorse and 
 despair are beyond comfort. 
 
 "The truest, gentlest, fondest child that ever 
 blessed man I drove out that bitter night to meet her 
 cruel death! It is that which is killing me," he said, 
 in reply to Mr. Cave's well meant efforts to rouse and 
 cheer him. 
 
 "You are morbid, Hereward. You are too severe
 
 LILITH 43 
 
 on yourself. You are not rational and consistent. 
 You should remember, my dear friend, you did not 
 mean to drive her away." 
 
 "Ah, but the taunting, insulting, unpardonable 
 words I hurled at her, heaped upon her head, over- 
 whelming her no true woman could have borne 
 them! If she had been the creature I suspected and 
 accused her of being, she might have borne them 
 and remained here for profit; but Lilith had no alter- 
 native but to leave the house! And I drove her from 
 it as surely as if I had taken her by the shoulders 
 and put her out and turned the key against her!" 
 
 "I do not think you should consider it in that light. 
 Besides, for the w r ords you used, you would do wisely 
 to remember now the provocation you received," 
 gravely suggested Mr. Cave. 
 
 ''Not from her! Not from Lilith! She was ever 
 true, meek, gentle and wonderfully self-controlled for 
 a being so young. No! I never received provocation 
 from that child," said Hereward, with a deep sigh. 
 
 "Then from false appearances! false appearances 
 which would have driven a much older and wiser man 
 than you quite beside himself." 
 
 "But against which I should have set Lilith's life 
 and character then as I do now. No, Mr. Cave, you 
 need not talk to me of comfort. I will not receive it!" 
 
 "Ah, Tudor, you hug, cherish, and cultivate your 
 sorrow." 
 
 "Not my sorrow! Sorrow is a matter of time, and 
 it may be consoled. But remorse is a thing of eter- 
 nity, never to be comforted." 
 
 "You seem to nourish this remorse as a matter of 
 duty and conscience." 
 
 "Yes, I do. I will not take comfort." 
 
 "Tudor, my dear boy, there never was a case of 
 insanity in either branch of your family. Their brains 
 were too strong and too well balanced, else I should
 
 44 LILITH 
 
 fear for you. But at any rate you really must go 
 away from this place," said the minister, very 
 earnestly. 
 
 " Well, and if I should, it would be only to wander 
 over the earth as aimlessly and drearily as the legen- 
 dary Jew," replied the young man. 
 
 Mr. Cave remained with him until nearly dark, and 
 then went away, promising to come and see the soli- 
 tary mourner in a very few days. 
 
 The next morning the invalid, with the assistance 
 of the two men-servants, got downstairs and into 
 the front piazza, where he sat in his favorite reclin- 
 ing-chair, with a little stand beside him. 
 
 He was still sitting there alone, gazing vacantly 
 out upon the lovely summer scene of mountain, valley, 
 woods and waters spread out before him, when the 
 sound of a strange footstep, a firm and ringing foot- 
 step, fell upon his ear. 
 
 In another moment the figure of a young man, 
 dressed as a gentleman, emerged from the footpath 
 through the alder bushes, and came into view. 
 
 In that moment, with a start of surprise, Here- 
 ward recognized the form and face of Mr. Alfred 
 Ancillon. 
 
 The young wanderer came up the steps, and stand- 
 ing in front of the pale and fainting invalid, took off 
 his hat, and in a stern voice demanded as if he had 
 the most sacred right to demand: 
 
 "Tudor Hereward! Where is Lilith?" 
 
 "Lilith! How dare you utter that name! the name 
 of the lady whose destruction you have compassed?" 
 faintly yet indignantly demanded Hereward. 
 
 "No! not I, sir! I never wounded her by a word! 
 I never wronged her by a thought! Your senseless 
 jealousy has wrought all this ruin! Only ten days 
 ago, in the remote Southwestern town where I was 
 fulfilling an engagement, did I happen to pick up an
 
 LILITH 45 
 
 old copy of the New York Pursuii'ant, and read the 
 account of her dead bodv having been found three 
 weeks after she had disappeared from her home! I 
 threw up my engagement and came here with all 
 speed, for well I guessed that you, and you only, had 
 the secret of her disappearance and her death. For 
 * Jealousy is as cruel as the grave!' " 
 
 "Had I no just cause for jealousy?" demanded 
 Hereward, thrown upon his defence, trembling with 
 weakness and scarcely conscious of having instinc- 
 tively put the question. 
 
 ''No! as the Lord is my judge and yours! A better, 
 truer, purer woman than Lilith never lived! A holier 
 tie than that w r hich bound us never united man and 
 woman!" retorted Andllon. "Utterly blameless, 
 though reckless folly and egotism, if not even insanity, 
 placed her in a false position, created false appear- 
 ances about her. But should all this have led you to 
 suspect Lilith? Lilith, who was brought up at your 
 good, wise father's feet, and by your side? Lilith, 
 who was so carefully trained in all wisdom and good- 
 ness? Lilith, whose religious and self-sacrificing spirit 
 you knew so well? Should any false appearances have 
 shadowed the brightness of Lilith's image in your 
 eyes?" 
 
 "Man! Hold your peace! I am passing from earth, 
 soon to meet Lilith in the better world, if repentance 
 and faith can take me there. I wish not to quarrel 
 with you now!" 
 
 "I will not hold my peace! I came here to ask you 
 -Where is Lilith?" 
 
 "And you ask it in the tone in which the minister 
 reads the question: 'Cain, where is thy brother Abel?' 
 Lilith is in her grave," moaned Hereward. 
 
 "Yes, she is. And you have put her there. You 
 have as surely murdered your young wife as if you 
 had plunged a Bword through her bosom, like that
 
 *6 LILITH 
 
 black brute, Othello, whom I never could consider a 
 'noble' Moor, and never would personate to please 
 anybody. Othello, when he found out his mistake, 
 had the decency to kill himself the only decent 
 thing he ever did do! But you, Tudor Hereward 
 the law cannot hang you for driving your young 
 wife out to death. Why have you not had the man- 
 hood to hang yourself?" 
 
 "Man, spare your reproaches! I am passing from 
 earth, and if repentance and faith avail ine, going 
 to that other world, where I shall receive my dear 
 one's forgiveness. You may spare your reproaches, 
 as indeed I do not know how, or by what right, you, 
 of all men, dare to make them," said Hereward, with 
 more dignity than he had hitherto shown. 
 
 "I speak by the most sacred right that a man could 
 have to speak," solemnly replied Ancillon. 
 
 "What are you to Lilith, or what was Lilith to you? 
 A man may not know all his wife's relations. You 
 may be of Lilith's kindred and, indeed, I notice a 
 likeness between your faces but you cannot be of 
 very near kindred." 
 
 "No?" queried Ancillon, with a wistful look. 
 
 "No!" repeated Hereward, with more emphasis 
 than he had yet used in speaking "No! for you are 
 not her brother. I knew her father and mother; 
 they were young people just married a year when 
 Lilith was born. She was not only their first, but 
 their only child. The father ah me! lost his life 
 while rescuing me from drowning, a few days before 
 Lilith was born. Her mother, shocked to death by 
 the sudden bereavement, gave birth to her child and 
 died. My father took the infant orphan from beside 
 the dead mother, and brought her home to be his own 
 adopted daughter. So that Lilith was an only child, 
 and you could not be her brother."
 
 LILITH 47 
 
 "No, I am not her brother," assented Ancillon, with 
 the same wistful look. 
 
 "And if you are merely her cousin, or even her 
 uncle, the relationship in either case would not give 
 you the right to take such liberties with her name 
 and memory as you have taken, and are taking now." 
 
 "But I am not either her uncle or her cousin," said 
 Ancillou, with the same inscrutable look. 
 
 "Then, in the name of Heaven, man! what are you, 
 that you have dared to do as you have done?" de- 
 manded Hereward, with an excitement for which he 
 was to pay in a dangerous reaction and depression. 
 
 "Mr. Hereward," said Ancillon, with more gravity 
 than he had lately exhibited, "I came here not only 
 to ask that question which first I put to your con- 
 science, but also to place in your possession a secret 
 that I have hitherto guarded with the most jealous 
 care, not only for my own sake, but even for yours, 
 and most of all, for Lilith's, that no sorrow should 
 come to her gentle heart, no reproach to her spotless 
 name ; but now that she is gone I care not at all what 
 doom may fall upon me, or what shame may confuse 
 you." 
 
 Ancillon paused and smiled grimly. 
 
 "Speak, man! Speak, man speak! What is it you 
 would tell me?" demanded Hereward, trembling with 
 agitation. 
 
 "I would tell you nothing!" 
 
 "Nothing?" 
 
 "Nothing; for you might not believe my words. Bat 
 I will give the means of discovering my secret for 
 yourself of learning my story, and proving its truth 
 beyond all doubt," gravely replied Ancillon. 
 
 "Well? Well? Well?" 
 
 "Do you happen to know of an old trunk, the prop- 
 erty of Lilith's parents, filled with family relics and 
 correspondence, bundles of yellow letters, photo-
 
 48 LILITH 
 
 graphs, trinkets, prayer-books, Bibles, old diaries, 
 newspapers, pamphlets, and other rubbish? Do you 
 happen to know of such a depository?" 
 
 "I think I do," said Hereward, reflectingly. "Yes; 
 I am sure I do," he added, confidently. 
 
 "It seems to have been packed and preserved by 
 your father's orders, after the death of Lilith's mother 
 and for the possible pleasure or benefit of Lilith's 
 after life. Ah, dear! It was anything but a pleasure 
 or a benefit to the poor child. It was never opened 
 from the day it was packed until the day after your 
 father's funeral, when you had gone to Washington, 
 leaving Lilith alone in this old house. Then, she hav- 
 ing received the key of the trunk for the first time, 
 as a legacy from your father, sent for the trunk and 
 opened it. And then she learned the dire secret of 
 her family, even before she ever saw my face. It was 
 an accident that brought me to the Cliffs, that night, 
 Mr. Hereward." 
 
 "I heard that it was the storm " 
 
 "Not so. The storm kept me at the Cliffs, but did 
 not bring me here. I was a guest at Bushmore, and 
 at the supper table chanced to hear, in the gossip of 
 the ladies, the story of Lilith WyviPs adoption and 
 marriage. To me it was a revelation. I determined 
 to see her. I did so, and was storm-bound for a week 
 at the Cliffs." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "That trunk, Mr. Hereward, is at your disposal. 
 All necessary information can be found within it. 
 Seek and know and prove it, all for yourself! When 
 you have done so, you may deliver me over to the 
 British authorities as a fugitive from justice and send 
 me back to England, under your favorite extradition 
 treaty to penal servitude for life! I care not one 
 farthing now that Lilith is gone!" 
 
 "Man! Man! in Heaven's name, who and what are
 
 LILITH 49 
 
 you?" demanded Hereward, pale and shaking with 
 emotion. 
 
 "I am known to the British police authorities as 
 John Weston, the mail robber; to the keepers of Port- 
 land prison, Z. 789; to the play-going public as Mr. 
 Alfred Ancillon, tragedian, comedian, tenor and 
 athlete; in diplomatic circles in Washington as 
 
 Senor Zuniga, nephew of the P Minister; but to 
 
 Lilith I was known by another name, and in a sweeter 
 relation. There! I have said and done all for which 
 I came here. I am going now. Good-bye! I shall 
 be at the Antler's in Frosthill all this week, waiting 
 your pleasure;" and the visitor put on his hat and 
 walked off by the way through which he had come. 
 
 He had seen Mr. Hereward drop back in his chair; 
 but neither knew nor, if he had known, would have 
 cared that the invalid had fallen into a deep swoon. 
 
 In this condition Dr. Kerr found him a few minutes 
 later. 
 
 After using prompt means for his recovery, and 
 seeing him open his eyes and breathe again, the doc- 
 tor made him swallow a cordial, and then asked him 
 what had caused his swoon. 
 
 "Weakness, I suppose," evasively answered the in- 
 valid. 
 
 The doctor took him into the cool, shady drawing- 
 room and made him lie down on the sofa. 
 
 And then, when his strength was somewhat re- 
 stored by the cordial he had swallowed, the doctor 
 produced a large envelope with an official stamp, and 
 said: 
 
 "I brought this from the post-office for you. I hope 
 it may contain good news that will rouse you up." 
 
 Hereward thanked the doctor, and, without lifting 
 his head from the sofa pillow, opened the long en- 
 velope and took out a letter partly in print and partly 
 in writing. His pale face flushed a little as he read
 
 50 LILITH 
 
 the paper, and he passed it over to Dr. Kerr, say- 
 ing: 
 
 "You see it is a letter announcing my appointment 
 as secretary of legation to the new embassy to the 
 
 court of , and requiring me, in the event of my 
 
 accepting the mission, to be ready to sail with the 
 party by the Kron Prinz, on the first of June." 
 
 "And you will accept it, Hereward? The sea voy- 
 age and the change will be so good for you." 
 
 "Yes, I shall accept it." 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 LILITH'S FLIGHT 
 
 Do you think, because you fail me 
 
 And draw back your hand to-day, 
 That from out the heart I gave you 
 
 My strong love can fade away? 
 It will live. No eyes may see it; 
 
 In my soul it will lie deep, 
 Hidden from all; but I shall feel it 
 
 Often stirring in its sleep. 
 So remember that the true love, 
 
 Which you now think poor and vain, 
 Will endure in hope and patience 
 
 Till you ask for it again. 
 
 A. A. Proctor. 
 
 WHEN 7 Lilith left the presence of her husband on 
 that fatal night of their parting, her mind and heart 
 were in a whirl of confusion and suffering. 
 
 He had accused her of unspeakable, of incompre- 
 hensible evil! He had repudiated her! He had told 
 her that in a few hours he should leave that house
 
 LILITH 51 
 
 his patrimonial home never to return to it while 
 she should "desecrate it by her presence." 
 
 Her love was wounded to the quick! Her pride 
 was trampled in the dust. 
 
 What remained for her to do? 
 
 First of all to leave the house which he declared 
 that she "desecrated with her presence." 
 
 Yes, that was the first and the most urgent duty 
 that she owed to him who had repudiated her and 
 to herself, and her own honor and self-respect as well. 
 
 It was good to know what first to do. It saved 
 useless brooding and loss of time. 
 
 As soon as she reached her room, therefore, she 
 locked the door to secure herself from interruption, 
 and then she began to prepare for her departure. 
 
 For she determined to go at once and to take with 
 her nothing, no, not the smallest trifle, that Hereward 
 had ever given her. 
 
 So she took off the deep mourning dress that had 
 been one of Hereward's first gifts, hung it up in the 
 wardrobe, and replaced it with a crimson cashmere, 
 the gift of his father, which since Major Hereward's 
 death had been packed away with other clothing, left 
 off when she first went into black. 
 
 From the same depository she took a gray beaver 
 cloth coat, a gray felt hat, gray barege vail and a 
 pair of grav gloves. These she laid out upon the 
 bed. 
 
 Next she took from her casket the few jewels given 
 her by her foster-father, and the few hundred dollars 
 she had saved from the liberal allowance Major Here- 
 ward had made her during his life. All these, to- 
 gether with her comb and brushes, a few pocket-hand- 
 kerchiefs, and a single change of underclothing, she 
 packed into a hand-bag. 
 
 When her small preparations were all complete, it
 
 52 LILITH 
 
 seemed to require a painful wrench to tear herself 
 away. 
 
 Her husband had outraged and repudiated her in- 
 deed; yet she felt that she could not leave the house 
 without writing to him a few words of farewell. She 
 meant to write only a very few words, not half a 
 dozen lines in all, only enough to remind him that she 
 went not of her own will, but by his will. 
 
 Yet, when she sat down at the table and com- 
 menced her letter, a flood of thought and feeling bore 
 her impetuously onward to a fuller utterance, and 
 she poured forth her soul in that touching, pathetic, 
 yet dignified letter that he afterwards found upon her 
 dressing-table, and which, after perusal, and with 
 reckless anger, he committed to the flames. 
 
 When she had finished her task, sealed her letter, 
 and pinned it to the pin-cushion where he could not 
 fail to find it, she put on her gray beaver coat, hat, 
 vail and gloves, took up her hand-bag and left the 
 room. 
 
 She paused for a moment in the upper hall, and 
 looked over the balusters to see if any one were in 
 sight or hearing below. 
 
 But there was no one. The coast was clear. There 
 was no danger of interruption. 
 
 So Lilith went softly down the stairs, opened the 
 hall door and passed out into the night. 
 
 The sky was clear and the stars were shining 
 brightly down on the snow-covered earth. 
 
 All the servants, horses and carriages attached to 
 the place were at the young mistress' order; but 
 she chose to avail herself of none of them. She would 
 walk to the railway station. The clear, starlit sky 
 and the snow-white earth rendered her road light 
 enough for convenience. As for danger, there was 
 none of any sort. No act of violence had ever been 
 known to occur in that primitive, rural neighborhood,
 
 LILITH 53 
 
 which might almost have been called Arcadian in its 
 simplicity and innocence. She knew that she could 
 easily walk the six miles in two hours and catch the 
 ten o'clock train. So she walked bravely on until she 
 came to the outer gate. Just as she was in the act 
 of opening it she was startled by a rushing sound be- 
 hind her, and turning, saw Lion, the large Newfound- 
 land dog, at her side, evidently bent on following her, 
 
 "Yes, good dog. Good, good dog, you shall go! 
 And then if there could be any danger you would 
 guard me with you life. Wouldn't you, good dog?" 
 
 Lion assured his mistress, in much eloquent pan- 
 tomime, that he was her own devoted dog and would 
 die for her if necessary. 
 
 Lilith went on, the dog trotting by her side, over 
 the stubble fields, into the dense forest, out again, 
 through the narrow mountain pass, out again into the 
 fields, and finally in sight of the lights at the railway 
 station. 
 
 Here Lilith stopped to draw the vail more closely 
 around her face, for she did not wish to be recog- 
 nized by any acquaintance who might ask her ques- 
 tions. Here, too, she must part with her dog. It 
 would not be well to take him with her to the rail- 
 way station, either for her sake or for his own. So 
 she must send him home; but she wished to part 
 pleasantly with her fourfooted friend not to drive 
 him away from her, but to send him on an errand for 
 her; so she opened her hand-bag and took off a paper 
 which had been wrapped around her brushes, breathed 
 into the paper, rolled it up to a convenient size and 
 gave it to the dog, putting it between his jaws, pat- 
 ting him on the head, turning him with his nose 
 towards the Cliffs, and saying: 
 
 "Good dog! Good dog! Good fellow! Carry it 
 home! Carry it home!"
 
 54 LILITH 
 
 And Lion, delighted at having an important com- 
 mission to execute, set off at a run. 
 
 Lilith dashed a tear from her eye and hurried on 
 to the railway station. There was not a soul there 
 except the ticket agent and a rough-looking passenger. 
 
 Lilith knew exactly the price of a ticket to Balti- 
 more, and had her change ready. She went into the 
 musty office, pushed the money on the ledge of the 
 ticket window, and said, from behind her vail: 
 
 "One, to Baltimore." 
 
 The agent, behind the partition, drew in the money 
 and pushed out the ticket, without seeing or caring 
 to see whether the passenger standing aside in the 
 shadow were man, woman or child, but taking a man 
 for granted. 
 
 Lilith got on the train while the railway porters 
 were throwing off and throwing on mail bags, and by 
 the time she had dropped into her seat, midway in a 
 nearly empty car, the train started again. 
 
 The car was but dirnly lighted, and there were but 
 five other passengers in it besides Lilith. They were 
 all strangers to her probably country merchants on 
 their way to the Eastern cities to buy their Spring 
 goods mostly clothed in heavy gray overcoats, with 
 their hats pulled low over their foreheads, and their 
 hands thrust into their pockets. They seemed more 
 inclined to doze than to talk, and seldom spoke, ex- 
 cept to remark how very cold the weather was, opine 
 that the mercury was at zero, and declared that such 
 a thing had never occurred in that neighborhood so 
 late in March within the memory of man. 
 
 And then they hugged their overcoats more closely 
 around them, pulled their hats down lower, and re- 
 lapsed into silence and dozing. 
 
 Lilith, now that the hurry and excitement of her 
 sudden departure was over, and she was seated in
 
 LILITH 55 
 
 the car, with nothing to do, suffered a natural reaction 
 into depression and great discouragement. 
 
 What was before her? Whither should she go? 
 What could she do? What was to be her future life? 
 Who were to be her future friends or companions? 
 She was leaving her old familiar home, leaving all 
 the friends of her youth, going among perfect 
 strangers, without one single letter of introduction to 
 any one. What would be the end? 
 
 Had she done right to take the responsibility of 
 her future into her own young, inexperienced hands? 
 Would it not have been better to have borne the 
 reproach and humiliation she suffered at Cloud Cliffs, 
 and to have remained there and patiently waited for 
 events? She would at least have been safe. 
 
 But in answer to these thoughts came the memory 
 of her husband's cruel words hissed into her ears: 
 
 "In a few hours I shall leave here leave my 
 father's house never to return to it while you dese- 
 crate it with your presence." 
 
 And she felt that it was better to go out into the 
 bitter world of strangers than to lose the last rem- 
 nant of her self-respect by remaining in the home 
 which her husband had scornfully declared that her 
 presence desecrated. 
 
 Then Lilith broke down for the first time since that 
 crushing blow, and wept bitterly though silently be- 
 hind her vail. 
 
 Her fellow-passengers did not seem to notice the 
 weeping, or even if they did, they probably thought 
 her tears were only caused by some ordinary parting 
 with friends, a mere matter of course, too trifling to 
 cause remark or sympathy. 
 
 The motion of the cars often has a soporific effect 
 upon passengers, and especially upon a woman travel- 
 ing alone and at night. So it came to pass that 
 Lilith, poor, tired child that she was, cried herself to
 
 56 LILITH 
 
 sleep, and slept soundly, rocked by the swift, smootft 
 motion of the train. 
 
 She dreamed a very vivid dream, that seemed a 
 very graphic reality. In her dream her husband was 
 seated by her side, and they were traveling to Wash- 
 ington together. Her promise of secrecy had been 
 canceled, and her tongue had been loosed in some 
 strange way, possible only in dreams, and she was 
 telling him, with her head upon his bosom and her 
 arms around his neck, the wonderful story of her 
 parents' youthful life and love and sorrow, and the 
 true story of her own birth. 
 
 And he, holding her in his arms, pressed her to his 
 heart, w r as listening with such affection, sympathy and 
 admiration. He was saying so earnestly: 
 
 "And you, my brave little darling, you have borne 
 all this misconstruction, all this humiliation, rather 
 than betray your trust. But I love you more than 
 ever for all that you have borne and suffered, my 
 Lilith." 
 
 A shock startled Lilith out of her deep sleep and 
 dispelled her beautiful dream. 
 
 What was this? Where was she? 
 
 On the train, indeed on the train, that had just 
 stopped at a crowded junction and taken on addi- 
 tional cars, which had joined with a shock that waked 
 her. But 
 
 Where was Tudor? 
 
 Not seated by her side, certainly. Not even gone 
 out to stretch his limbs. Ah, no! he had vanished 
 with the dream. 
 
 Again her eyes overflowed with tears, and she sat 
 back in her seat and wept bitterly in the loneliness 
 and desolation of her heart. She missed the Tudor 
 of her lovely dream. She longed for him with an 
 infinite, agonized longing. She felt an almost irresis- 
 tible impulse to leave the cars at that junction, and
 
 LILITH 57 
 
 take the next train to her home, where she could 
 arrive by morning where she could throw herself 
 upon her husband's mercy and remain in peace. 
 
 But then again the memory of his cruel words 
 pierced her through the heart, and left her helpless 
 wounded to the death, as it were. Those words 
 were ringing through her spirit: 
 
 "No; I thank Heaven that I never loved you! I 
 married you only to please my father! I never loved 
 you! That dishonor has been spared me! In a few 
 hours I shall leave this house my father's house 
 never to return while your presence desecrates it!" 
 
 Oh, no! With the sound of these degrading words 
 still reverberating through her soul, she could not 
 go back any more than she could have remained when 
 she was there. 
 
 The car was now filled with passengers, and even 
 the seat by her side was taken by a fat woman with 
 an immense bundle in her lap, who crowded Lilith 
 close against the side. She turned towards the 
 window, drew her thick vail closer over her face, and 
 wept silently but bitterly until once more overtasked 
 nature yielded to weariness and to the smooth, swift, 
 soothing motion of the train, and she slept; this time 
 a dreamless sleep, that lasted until the train ran into 
 the Baltimore station. 
 
 It was now six o'clock, and the eastern horizon was 
 flushed with the coming sun. 
 
 Lilith awoke to find the train at a standstill, and 
 all the passengers in motion. She roused her stupe- 
 fied faculties and realized that she was at Baltimore, 
 and that she wished to continue her journey to New 
 York. 
 
 She arose and took up her hand-bag and left the 
 car, went to the ticket office and inquired when the 
 next train would leave for New York. 
 
 "At six-fifteen," the busy agent replied.
 
 58 LILITH 
 
 Lilith glanced at the large station clock. It was 
 now five minutes past six. She bought her ticket, 
 got a cup of coffee at the refreshment counter, and 
 then followed the throng who were crowding through 
 the gates to get on the New York train. 
 
 She got a corner chair on a Pullman car, wheeled 
 it around towards the window, so that her back would 
 be turned to her fellow-passengers, and gave herself 
 up to thought. 
 
 She had been driven from her home in dishonor, 
 and her flight and the letter she had left behind had 
 cut off all retreat, and made a voluntary return im- 
 possible. 
 
 What were they doing at Cloud Cliffs this morn- 
 ing? Her husband had not probably received her 
 letter until this morning, because he had not, she 
 thought, entered her room during the night. 
 
 What would he think of her letter? How would 
 it affect him? 
 
 She could not conjecture, especially as she could 
 not remember what she had written, in the white heat 
 of her emotions, when about to leave him, perhaps 
 forever. 
 
 And old Nancy! What would she think of this 
 sudden flight? Would Nancy be very sorry for her? 
 And the other domestics, who had known and loved 
 her from her babyhood would they care? 
 
 Oh, yes, indeed, she felt and knew that all the ser- 
 vants, old and young, would grieve for her, and all 
 the animals would miss her. 
 
 Then Lilith fell to weeping again at the thought 
 of all human and brute that she had loved so well, 
 and yet had left, perhaps forever. 
 
 Her paroxysm of tears exhausted itself, but her 
 distressing thoughts continued. 
 
 What would the neighbors think or say about her 
 disappearance? They would certainly ask a great
 
 LILITH 59 
 
 many questions. Country people always do. They 
 would question and cross-question Mr. Hereward. 
 
 How would he answer them? Would he tell them 
 the truth, or would he evade inquiry? And oh, above 
 all, would he, could he, be any happier now that she 
 was gone? Would he not sometimes remember how 
 much she had loved him? How hard she had tried 
 to please him? How diligently she had worked to 
 help him, answering his letters, copying his speeches, 
 searching out his authorities, and through all this 
 secretary work keeping his one room in the attic of 
 the crowded hotel neat, bright and attractive, and al- 
 ways taking such pure delight in being useful to him? 
 Would Tudor remember these things, and think more 
 kindly of her? 
 
 Ah, no! for he did not love her; he had told her so, 
 and thanked the Lord that he did not love her! So 
 all that she had tried to do had failed to please him. 
 
 Again the child Lilith wept as if her heart were 
 breaking; and there was no one to comfort her. 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 LILITH'S FIDELITY 
 
 LILITH sat in one corner of the Pullman car, with 
 her chair wheeled around, her shoulders to all her 
 fellow-passengers, and her face fronting the large 
 mirror on the wall. She sat quite still, and wept 
 silently. 
 
 Now there happened to be in the same car a lady 
 who, in this year of grace 1882, might be called a 
 Benevolent Crank; but the term had not been in- 
 vented in her time. She was a large, rosy-cheeked, 
 handsome matron, of perhaps fifty years, of the class
 
 60 LILITH 
 
 called "motherly;" with such an exuberance of life, 
 health, vitality and happiness as rendered her kindly 
 affectioned, sympathetic and confiding towards every 
 fellow-being. 
 
 She had got on the train at Baltimore and ha ever 
 since been sitting in the opposite corner to Lilith; 
 not with her chair wheeled away from her fellow- 
 passengers, but fronting them all as fellow-beings in 
 whom she took a friendly interest, and looking with 
 her kindly, smiling face, half shaded by the black 
 plush bonnet, and her portly form wrapped in her fur- 
 lined cloak, the very picture of comfort, contentment 
 and benevolence. 
 
 She did not find much, however, in the seven men 
 who shared the car to interest her every one of 
 them the incarnation of "business" or "politics," as 
 far as she could judge from physiognomies half hid- 
 den by the large, open newspapers they were read- 
 ing. 
 
 Next she turned her social attention on the only 
 woman beside herself in the car, and who sat in the 
 opposite corner. 
 
 What she saw there was the red back of the chair, 
 and a pair of pretty, sloping shoulders, in a gray 
 coat and a little, graceful, bowed head in a gray hat 
 and vail, and the reflection from the mirror. 
 
 It was this last that attracted and fixed the atten- 
 tion of the lady. She could not withdraw her eyes 
 from the picture reflected there a pale, lovely child 
 face, with soft brown eyes, suffused with tears, and 
 budding red lips, quivering with grief. 
 
 The lady watched this picture with growing inter 
 est and sympathy. Then she turned her head around 
 to look at the passengers to see if by any sign she 
 could judge whether any one of them could perhaps 
 be the father, or grandfather, or uncle, or other male 
 protector of this lonely and grieving child.
 
 LILITH 61 
 
 But no; she felt sure that they were all strangers 
 to the little one. Besides, two chairs behind hers 
 were vacant. 
 
 Still she watched the weeping girl, but hesitated 
 to address her; it was such an unusual, such an un- 
 warrantable thing to do, and the little lady might 
 not like to have a stranger intrude on her distress 
 when to hide it she had turned her back on the world 
 of the Pullman car reasoned the good woman, as 
 she watched the woful picture, and sighed, and sighed 
 and watched, until she could scarcely sit still in her 
 seat. 
 
 "Suppose it were my own dear Edith or Clara left 
 alone in the world, with no one to care for her, travel- 
 ing alone, with no one to speak to her? Oh, dear!" 
 
 She looked and saw pretty shoulders rising and 
 falling with half-suppressed sobs, and she could stand 
 it no longer. 
 
 "I must go to her! I must, indeed! I can't be 
 like the swimmer who would not rescue the drown- 
 ing boy because he had never been introduced to his 
 father. I must go to that child even if she should 
 take me for no better than I ought to be and repulse 
 me!" 
 
 So saying to herself, the good woman arose and left 
 her chair and went and took the chair next behind 
 Lilith. 
 
 Laying her hand gently on the girl's arm and speak- 
 ing very tenderly and deprecatingly, she said : 
 
 "My dear, you seem to be traveling alone, and " 
 
 Lilith lifted her head with a startled look, and 
 raised her soft brown eyes inquiringly to the face of 
 the speaker, thereby embarrassing the good woman, 
 who began all over again: 
 
 "You seem to be traveling all alone, my poor dar- 
 ling, and and and you don't seem very well. Can 
 I do anything for you, my dear?"
 
 62 LILITH 
 
 "Nothing, I thank you, ma'am. I thank you very 
 much. You are very kind to notice me," said poor, 
 solitary Lilith, in an unmistakably grateful tone. 
 
 "My poor darling, I should have been a brute 
 and worse than a brute, for brutes do have feelings 
 I should have been a stock or a stone, not to have 
 noticed you and not to have felt for you, and me the 
 mother of children of my own, too," said the kind 
 creature, ungrammatically, but very affectionately. 
 
 "You are very good, ma'am, and I thank you very 
 much." 
 
 "I wish you would let me do something for you." 
 
 "There is nothing to do, thank you nothing," 
 sighed Lilith. 
 
 "Oh, yes, there is, plenty, plenty! Now I see you 
 so pale and weak that you are scarcely able to sit up, 
 
 and if you are going to New York Are you going 
 
 so far?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "Well, New York is a long way off yet, and you 
 are not able to sit up all the way. Now in the next 
 compartment a little compartment right behind us 
 there is a sofa and two chairs, all unoccupied. Let 
 me take you in there, and you can lie on the sofa and 
 I will sit in one of the chairs and keep you company. 
 Will you come? I will carry your bag." 
 
 Lilith hesitated. 
 
 "Well, I declare," said her new friend, "you look 
 like the girl in the song 
 
 Half willing! half afraid.' 
 
 But you have no cause to be afraid of me, my dear. 
 I only wish to be a help to you. I would not hurt a 
 hair of your head," said the good woman, earnestly. 
 
 "Oh, indeed I am sure you would not. You are 
 very, very kind. And I am very thankful to you. I
 
 LILITH 63 
 
 am not afraid of you, but of the conductor," said 
 Lilitli. 
 
 "Of the conductor!" exclaimed the lady, with sur- 
 prise and then with a laugh. "Why, on the face of 
 the earth, should you be afraid of the conductor, my 
 child?" 
 
 "He might accuse us of trespassing, if we should 
 go into that vacant apartment, for which we have no 
 tickets, and I don't know what the law for trespass- 
 ing may be on the cars," said Lilith. 
 
 "Well," laughed the lady, "it is nothing very dread- 
 ful it is not hanging, nor penal servitude for life, 
 nor even fine or imprisonment. It is simply to be 
 politely requested to vacate a position to which you 
 have no right in favor of some one who has a right 
 supposing such a one should turn up. Otherwise 
 you may keep the place to the end of the journey. 
 But if it would make you feel any better, I will speak 
 to the conductor next time he passes through the cars. 
 J have traveled this road so many times how many 
 you may know when I tell you that for the last seven 
 years I have had one daughter married in Brooklyn, 
 one in Jersey City, one in New York and one in Bos- 
 ton, and I spend nearly all my time in going back- 
 wards and forwards between my home in Baltimore 
 and their homes. Think of it, my dear! There are 
 four of them, and every one of them has a baby every 
 year. And I have to go on every time a baby is ex- 
 pected, and then have to be there a month before the 
 baby comes, and stay a month afterwards. But, as I 
 was saying, I have traveled this road so frequently 
 that I know all the conductors, and I like the one on 
 this train better than any of them; for there is nothing 
 in the line of his duty that he would not do for me, 
 or for any woman." 
 
 "Are you going on now to meet an expected little 
 grandchild?" inquired ^oJith, who, child-like, had
 
 64 LILITH 
 
 ceased to weep when she became interested in some- 
 thing else besides her sorrows. 
 
 "Oh, no, not exactly now; though there will be 
 such a harvest of them between this and Christmas 
 that it will be hardly worth while for me to go back 
 home this year. Eh, me! Ponsonby might as well be 
 a full widower, for he has been a grass-widower most 
 of the time since our girls have been married. True, 
 the two youngest girls Edith and Clara are at 
 home, and they keep house for their father while I 
 am away. But you were asking me about the cause 
 of my journey. It isn't a baby this time; it is a 
 wedding. My Boston son-in-law's sister, who lives 
 with him, is going to be married on Thursday, and 
 all the family connections are to meet at his house. 
 I and my three other married daughters are to go on 
 to-morrow morning. I shall stay at my son-in-law 
 Saxony's house to-night. Here comes the conductor. 
 
 Mr. P ," she said, turning to that officer, "this 
 
 young lady is not well. Is there any objection to my 
 taking her into that vacant compartment where she 
 can lie on the sofa?" 
 
 "No objection at all, Mrs. Ponsonby; the compart- 
 ment is not engaged," replied the polite conductor. 
 
 The lady arose and gave her arm to Lilith and took 
 her to the sofa, where the exhausted girl was glad 
 to lie down. Then she returned for her own and 
 Lilith's light luggage, which she transferred to the 
 new seats. 
 
 As the conductor passed through the drawing-room 
 car on his return, a stout passenger with iron-gray 
 hair, who had sat three seats off from Lilith and her 
 friend, on the opposite side of the car, and had 
 watched the interview between the woman and the 
 girl, and had heard as much or as little of their con- 
 versation as their low tones would permit, and had 
 formed his own opinions on the subject beckoned
 
 LILITH 65 
 
 the officer to approach, and looking solemnly over the 
 top of his spectacles said, impressively: 
 
 "Conductor, I want you to keep an eye on that 
 pair who have just gone into the next compartment. 
 That young girl is traveling alone. That stout woman 
 first accosted her. She has some evil designs on that 
 girl, I am sure of it! Robbery or worse! She has 
 every opportunity to chloroform and rob the girl, or 
 to drug her and take her away for something worse!" 
 
 "All right, sir! I know the old party! She is Mrs. 
 Ponsonby, of Baltimore. And she will be met at the 
 depot by her son-in-law, Mr. Saxony, of Number 
 Street," replied the amused officer. 
 
 "Oh, very well, if that is so! But her extraordinary 
 proceedings of accosting a strange young lady in the 
 cars very reasonably aroused my suspicions. I am 
 glad it is no worse," said the Detective Crank, in a 
 tone of disappointment that illy accorded with his 
 words. 
 
 In the meantime, Lilith reposed on the sofa and 
 her new friend sat by her side and chatted to cheer 
 her up. 
 
 With a rare delicacy she refrained from asking 
 Lilith any questions as to the cause of that distress 
 which had drawn the good woman to the girl's side, 
 until they were drawing near to New York. Then she 
 inquired : 
 
 "Is there any one to meet you at Jersey City, my 
 dear?" 
 
 "No, no one," answered Lilith. 
 
 "Nor any one the other side?" 
 
 "No, no one is to meet me anywhere," said the 
 desolate girl. 
 
 "My dear child! Some one ought to meet you! 
 It is not right or safe for a young girl traveling alone 
 to enter a city at nightfall, with no one to meet her! 
 But I suppose you know exactly the number and
 
 66 LILITH 
 
 street of the people you are going to see/' said the 
 good and sorely troubled woman. 
 
 "I am going to no house. I have no friends or 
 even acquaintances in the city," said Lilith. 
 
 "Then why on the face of the earth have you come 
 here, my poor child?" inquired Mrs. Ponsonby, in sur- 
 prise and distress. 
 
 Lilith, like the baby into whose state she some- 
 times relapsed, burst into tears, covered her face with 
 her hands and wept bitterly. 
 
 "Now what have I done? Now what is the matter? 
 Oh! what is the matter? Tell me, my dear. I am 
 very sorry for you. I will help you all I can. Indeed 
 I will, for Edith and Clara's sake," said Mrs. Pon- 
 sonby, bending over and caressing the girl, who, be- 
 tween her sobs and tears, tried to answer. 
 
 "I came," she gasped, "because I have lost 
 everything in the world. I have suffered cruel, cruel 
 reverses, and could not bear to stay in the place where 
 I had seen such happy and prosperous days so sud- 
 denly turned to misery and destitution." 
 
 "Poor, poor, poor dear! Was it through the war, 
 my dear?" inquired the woman, in tender, compas- 
 sionate tones, while the tears stood in her kindly eyes. 
 
 "No, it was not through the war. It was since the 
 war." 
 
 "Oh, yes! My dear child, tell me all you wish, but 
 no more than you wish. I will help you in any case. 
 Indeed I will. Are you an orphan, my dear?" 
 
 "Oh, ma'am, I am much worse than orphaned," said 
 Lilith. 
 
 "Dear me! Poor child! How worse than orphaned, 
 my dear?" 
 
 "Oh, ma'am, I cannot tell you now. Indeed I can- 
 not. Do not blame me, and do not be angry. It is 
 not my fault that I am so desolate and that I must 
 be so reserved about my past life," pleaded Lilith,
 
 LILITH 67 
 
 The lady fell to musing. 
 
 "I wonder what has happened to the child? That 
 she is good I can see for myself. Nobody could make 
 a mistake about her. I wonder what she means by 
 worse than orphaned, now. I wonder if her father 
 was hanged or sent to prison for life, or anything 
 like that. There are so many men who ought to be 
 gentlemen, but w r ho come to that sort of end now, 
 that I should not be surprised that it was so. Why, 
 there is always something of that sort going on in 
 some city or other, some bank defaulter, or some 
 forger, or manslaughterer, or something. And so it 
 seems more than likely that her father may have dis- 
 graced his family in that way, and be in prison, or in 
 a felon's grave, and that's what she means by being 
 
 worse than orphaned. But her mother Is your 
 
 mother living, my poor child?" she inquired, suddenly 
 breaking the long silence and addressing Lilith. 
 
 ''Xo, ma'am. My mother left this world a few hours 
 after I came into it," said Lilith. 
 
 "Poor, dear darling!" said the good woman, who 
 then relapsed into silent thought, drawing her own 
 conclusions. 
 
 "Yes, that is it!" she said to herself. "The mother 
 gone, the father worse than dead! That must be it, 
 or she would not talk of being worse than orphaned." 
 
 Lilith, perhaps mistaking her continued silence for 
 mistrust, said at length: 
 
 "You have been very kind to me, a perfect stranger 
 to you, ma'am, and I thank you from my heart; but 
 do not trouble your kind soul about me, ma'am. It 
 is not worth your while, indeed." 
 
 "Oh, it is easy to say that, my dear; but I can't 
 help troubling myself about you! Suppose you were 
 my own Edith or Clara? But don't be afraid, my dear; 
 I won't ask anything about your past; what I want 
 to know is your future. You said when you started
 
 68 LILITH 
 
 for New York that you wished to get away from pain- 
 ful associations; now what I wish to ask is, where 
 do you intend to go in New York, and what do you 
 intend to do?" 
 
 "I shall go first to some hotel, the only place a 
 stranger can go to, I suppose, and then I mean to 
 look out for some employment." 
 
 "Then, my dear, you are all wrong. In the first 
 place, you must not go to a hotel," said Mrs. Ponsonby. 
 
 "But why?" inquired Lilith. 
 
 "Because you would go as a lamb among wolves. 
 That is why." 
 
 "Then I suppose I must try to find a private board- 
 ing-house." 
 
 "Worse and worse! A respectable boarding-house 
 would want references, and if you happened to apply 
 to any but a respectable one " 
 
 "That is the reason why I wished to go to one of 
 the first-class hotels. They are always very respec- 
 table. No one can make a mistake about them, and 
 they take strangers without references." 
 
 "Yes, my dear, at ruinous prices. Unless you have 
 got a great deal of money, you would be quite pen- 
 niless before you could get any employment. And, 
 by the way, what sort of employment do you expect 
 to find?" 
 
 "I hardly know. I might be an amanuensis for some 
 lady or gentleman " 
 
 "For no gentleman. I put my foot right down on 
 that. Let the men alone, my dear unless they hap- 
 pen to be your very nearest male relations. And to 
 enter a lady's employment you would have to have 
 good references. I do hope you have references, my 
 dear?" 
 
 "No," said Lilith, "I have none; not one; and cir- 
 cumstances are all so adverse that I cannot hope to 
 get one."
 
 LILITH 69 
 
 "Dear me!" said Mrs. Ponsonby, taking a long look 
 into Lilith's face. "But you are all right. I am sure 
 you are all right. You are not the sort of child to 
 run away from your father or mother to seek your 
 fortune. I tell you what I will do; I will be your 
 referee. That is do you write a fair hand, spell 
 words correctly, and compose sentences grammat- 
 ically, as an amanuensis should do? For, you know, 
 you may have to answer letters as well as to write 
 from dictation." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am, I can indeed. I have' been accus- 
 tomed to do all that for my dear lost foster-father. 
 The next time the train stops I will write a specimen 
 and prove it," said Lilith. 
 
 "Very well, then," said the Benevolent "Crank," 
 "I will be your referee. And as to your lodging in 
 New York, I will take you to a cheap but very respec- 
 table house kept by the widow of a Methodist minis- 
 ter. She has no fashionable boarders, my dear, for 
 
 she lives on Street, near Avenue, and fashion 
 
 has left that part of the city these fifty years or more. 
 She boards some of the public school teachers. I 
 will take you to her house to-night before I go to my 
 daughter's, mind you. If Saxony comes to meet me, 
 and is in a hurry, he may go home in the street cars, 
 and I will take the carriage and carry you to Mrs. 
 Downie's," said the new friend, who had worked her- 
 self up into a benevolent fever on the subject of the 
 desolate young creature. 
 
 "Oh, how good you are to me! How wonderfully 
 good! How do you know that I am deserving of 
 your goodness? How do you know that I am not an 
 impostor?" said Lilith, catching her friend's hand and 
 covering it with grateful kisses. "Yes! how should 
 you know but that I am a very foolish, wicked girl?" 
 
 "Good Lord, child! how do I know anything, for 
 that matter how do I know light from darkness, ex-
 
 70 LILITH 
 
 cept through my eyes and my understanding? That 
 is the way I know you from an impostor. How I 
 thank the Lord that I met you before you fell into 
 the Lion's Den of this great city!" 
 
 "And do I not thank the Divine Providence oh, 
 do I not? And thank you, oh, so much!" exclaimed 
 Lilith, clasping her hands in the fervency of her utter- 
 ance. 
 
 "Now, here we are at Jersey City! Gather your 
 traps, my dear, and be ready to get off. Don't be 
 afraid. The dragon's mouth is always wide open, 
 but you shall not fall into it!" said Mrs. Ponsonby, 
 as the train ran into the depot. 
 
 "And there's Saxony's carriage, but I don't see 
 him," she said, when they had crossed the ferry and 
 passed out on Desbrosses Street. 
 
 "Where's your master, Patrick?" she demanded, 
 when she had dragged Lilith through the crowd to 
 the door of the carriage. 
 
 "If you plaze, ma'am, Misther Saxony is dining 
 out this evening, and Misthress Saxony requisted me 
 to mate you in the carriage meself, ma'am," said the 
 Irish coachman, who resented the term "master" as 
 applied to his employer. 
 
 "Very well. I am glad of it. Get in, my dear. 
 And, Patrick, do you drive first to Number 10 
 
 Street, near Avenue. It will not be much out of 
 
 your way," said Mrs. Ponsonby, as she put Lilith into 
 the carriage and followed her. 
 
 The short winter twilight was fading into night, 
 and the streets were beginning to be lighted with 
 
 "Suppose," said Lilith, "suppose that your friend 
 should not have a vacant room for me?" 
 
 "Then you must put up with a bed for this one 
 night." 
 
 "But if she has not an unoccupied bed?"
 
 LILITH 71 
 
 "Then she must find one for this night, anyway," 
 persisted Mrs. Ponsonby. 
 
 It seemed a long ride through the crowded city 
 streets before the carriage at last drew up before the 
 door of a plain, dull-looking, three-story brick house. 
 
 Mrs. Ponsonby without waiting for the coachman 
 to get off his box, for, indeed, Patrick was so in- 
 dolent that he always made an excuse that he "darn't'' 
 leave his horses to open the door alighted, and as- 
 sisted Lilith to alight, and led her up to the house 
 and rang the door-bell. 
 
 A female servant answered it. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Downie at home?" inquired the elder lady. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," replied the waitress, opening a door 
 on the right, and showing the two ladies into the long 
 but plainly furnished parlor, where they sat down. 
 
 "Will you tell Mrs. Downie that I would like to see 
 her on business for a moment?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. What name?" 
 
 The lady handed the waitress a card. 
 
 "Mrs. Downie is at tea now, but I dare say she 
 will not be long," said the girl, as she left the parlor 
 and ran down the basement stairs. 
 
 In a very few minutes the mistress of the board- 
 ing-house came up, with a warm, exuberant welcome 
 for an old friend. She was a short, fat, good-natured 
 looking woman, of about Mrs. Ponsonby's own age, 
 and she was dressed in a clean but rather dowdy 
 black gown, all in keeping with her general aspect 
 of careless good humor; and her pretty, soft, silvery 
 gray hair was gathered into a knot behind, and as 
 much disheveled all over her head by nature as it 
 could have been done by the most fashionable hair- 
 dresser. 
 
 "Why, goodness me, Em'ly Ponsonby! This ain't 
 you? I never was so surprised in all my life as when 
 Mary gave me your card! And we have just this
 
 72 L1LITH 
 
 minute sat down to tea; and you will come down and 
 have some?" said the landlady, in the softest and most 
 caressing voice, that seemed to be perfectly natural 
 to her. 
 
 "No, thank you, Sophie Downie," replied Mrs. 
 Ponsonby, as she arose and embraced her fat little 
 friend. "I am in the greatest hurry that ever was, 
 and only called here on my way from the depot to 
 Sam Saxony's to bring you a new boarder, a very 
 dear young friend of mine, who came with me from 
 Baltimore to get something to do in New York here. 
 
 Miss Good Lord of mercy! I don't know the 
 
 child's name!" said the good woman to herself, as she 
 arose and went to Lilith, and whispered: 
 
 "What name, dear what name?" 
 
 "Wyvil," answered Lilith, in the same low tone. 
 
 "My young friend, Miss Wildell, wants a quiet, re- 
 spectable home just such as you could furnish her," 
 resumed Mrs. Ponsonby, rejoining the landlady. 
 
 "Oh! Another Southern orphan, ruined by the 
 war!" said kindly Mrs. Downie. 
 
 "Ah! poor thing!" replied the Baltimore lady, in 
 a non-committal way. "I hope you can take her. She 
 has some little money left, I think." 
 
 "And she wants to get in one of the public schools? 
 Poor girl! there ain't the least chance." 
 
 "No, I don't think she wants to teach but the ques- 
 tion is, can you accommodate her?" 
 
 "I must 'commodate her somehow or other. I 
 haven't got a room; but if she could put up with a 
 cot in my room " 
 
 "Of course she could, until you can do better for 
 her. And now I must go, for I am keeping you from 
 
 your tea, while they are waiting for me on Street. 
 
 Miss Wilde, my dear, I leave you in good hands, and 
 if you ever want a friend, call on me. Sophie Downie, 
 you see I am due in Boston, at my daughter's, to-
 
 LILITH 73 
 
 morrow. That's why I am in such a hurry now. 
 Good-bye!" 
 
 And so saying, the dear woman kissed her old 
 friend, and then kissed Lilith and left a card with 
 her address in the girl's hand. 
 
 The next instant she was gone, and Lilith was alone 
 with the landlady. 
 
 "Come, my dear, come upstairs to my room and 
 take off your things and wash your face and hands, 
 if you wish; and then we will go dow r n and get some 
 supper. My dear, I hope you will feel at home here. 
 Most of my boarders are young people. Two young 
 ladies who are public school teachers, and one who 
 is a colorer of photographs, and then I have a young 
 Methodist minister who has a parish near this. He is 
 going to be married soon, though, as ministers must, 
 you know, and then we shall lose him. And then, 
 my dear, if you are still with us, you shall have his 
 room and be comfortable." 
 
 So talking, the landlady led Lilith upstairs and so 
 installed her in the home that was to be hers for 
 many months to come. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 LILITH'S STRUGGLES 
 
 Perhaps in some long twilight hour, 
 
 Like those we have known of old, 
 When past shadows round you gather, 
 
 And your present friends grow cold, 
 You may stretch your hands out towards me. 
 
 Ah! you will I know not when. 
 I shall nurse my love, and keep it 
 
 Faithfully for you till then. 
 
 A. A. Proctor. 
 
 LILITH found her new home a safe enough retreat. 
 Let any young woman go into a strange house, in
 
 74, LILITH 
 
 a strange city, under the circumstances in which 
 Lilith entered the Widow Downie's, and if she feel 
 compelled to observe a strict silence concerning her 
 own past life, she need not tell her story. Her neigh- 
 bors will make up one to fit her, and, what is more, 
 will believe in it. 
 
 Try to get at the origin of such a story, and you 
 may trace it to "They say," but no farther. 
 
 The advent of Lilith in the boarding-house of Mrs. 
 Downie caused a great deal of gossip, in which, 
 strange to say, there was not a word of ill-nature, 
 of criticism, or of adverse reflection upon the young 
 creature. 
 
 She was so childlike, so pretty, and so desolate, 
 that the hearts of all her fellow-lodgers were drawn 
 towards her. 
 
 By "putting this and that" together, by uncon- 
 sciously exaggerating all they heard, and by involun- 
 tarily drawing upon their imaginations, they had 
 formed a theory, which they took for fact, in regard 
 to Lilith. 
 
 The talk ran something like this: 
 
 "Mrs. Ponsonby, a very dear friend of Mrs. Downie, 
 brought her from the South, to try to get something 
 to do in New York." 
 
 "They say her father was a rich planter, who was 
 totally ruined in the late war." 
 
 "Not at all. He was a wealthy banker of Rich- 
 mond, who failed in '65." 
 
 "A great mistake. She was the only child of a 
 Baltimore broker, who " 
 
 "Oh, no! A Washington merchant, who became a 
 bankrupt last year, and " 
 
 And so forth, and so forth. 
 
 At last, however, the chaotic story came into form 
 and shape and permanent existence, as follows: 
 
 Miss Wilding for that was the way in which Mrs.
 
 LILITH 75 
 
 Downie had heard and repeated the word when 
 Lilith, remembering that her husband had forbidden 
 her to use his name, had replied to the landlady's 
 inquiries by giving the one to which she had the next 
 best right, and saying, "My name is Wyvil," where- 
 upon the landlady thought she said, "Wilding," 
 and thought, from her childlike appearance, that she 
 was, of course, a single woman, and reported her as 
 Miss Wilding Miss Wilding, then, according to the 
 crystalized gossip of the house, was the only child 
 of a wealthy Virginia planter, who had been ruined 
 by the war, and had died, leaving his motherless 
 daughter entirely destitute. Mrs. Ponsonby had be- 
 come so much interested in the young orphan that 
 she had brought her to New York to get something 
 to do, and had very wisely brought her straight to 
 Mrs. Downie's boarding-house, and had very prop- 
 erly become surety for her board, for Mrs. Downie, 
 with all her goodness of heart, was too poor to lose 
 the board money, which Mrs. Ponsonby was quite rich 
 enough to pay without feeling it. 
 
 Lilith was also spared troublesome questions, be- 
 cause the inmates of the house, though poor enough 
 in this world's goods, were too refined openly to in- 
 trude upon the reserve of the young stranger; and 
 also because, when once the good landlady, in the 
 motherly kindness of her heart, had questioned Lilith 
 concerning her troubles, the poor girl had burst into 
 such a passion of tears that Mrs. Downie became very 
 much distressed, and after doing all she could to 
 soothe the mourner's sorrow, she not only resolved 
 never again to allude to the subject, but she warned 
 all her young inmates to observe the same caution. 
 
 " 'Cause she can't bear it, my dears. She can't, in- 
 deed. It 'most kills her to hear it mentioned. And 
 no wonder. Them tender Southern girls as has never 
 been used to anything but love and softness and
 
 76 LILITH 
 
 sweetness all their lives, to be suddenly thrown upon 
 a rough, hard, bitter world, you know, my dears, it 
 is very trying. We must never speak to her about the 
 past, and never breathe a word before her about the 
 war. I dare say her poor father was killed in battle, 
 or died in one of them military prisons, or something 
 like that, which it breaks her heart to think about. 
 We must just try to make her forget it, my dears," 
 concluded Mrs. Downie. 
 
 And her sympathetic hearers promised all she re- 
 quired, and from that time emulated each other in 
 their kindness to the young stranger. 
 
 Mrs. Downie's household were in some respects a 
 peculiar people, of whom the gentle landlady was 
 the controlling spirit. 
 
 One word about Sophie Downie. She had been a 
 wife, and was now a widow only in name. 
 
 Her late husband, William Downie, had been a 
 Methodist minister of sincere piety and much elo- 
 quence. 
 
 They had been neighbors' children in a country 
 village, and had been engaged to each other almost 
 from their childhood. 
 
 He was "called" to the service of the Lord from 
 his boyhood, and the two widows, Sophie's mother 
 and his own mother, had joined their slender means 
 to send him to college, to be educated for the ministry. 
 
 "For," said his own mother, "he is all that I have 
 in the world, and why shouldn't I spend all that 1 
 can on him?" 
 
 "And," said Sophie's mother, "he is just the same 
 as my own son, and he'll marry Sophie and take care 
 of me when I get old, so why shouldn't I spend all 
 that I can spare in helping him?" 
 
 So the boy was sent to college, and in due time 
 went honorably through his course, graduated and was 
 ordained.
 
 LILITH 77 
 
 He was to marry Sophie as soon as he should obtain 
 his first parish. 
 
 Within a few months after his ordination he was 
 appointed by the convention to the Methodist church 
 in New York City near which his widow now kept 
 her boarding-house. 
 
 He had held his pulpit but a few weeks, during 
 which Sophie was busily engaged in preparing for 
 their wedding and their housekeeping, when he was 
 suddenly stricken down with a disease known to be 
 fatal from its onset. 
 
 As soon as he knew that he was to leave this world 
 he sent for his promised bride, and she caine to him, 
 accompanied by their two mothers. 
 
 And in the sick-chamber the long-engaged, faith- 
 ful lovers were united. 
 
 He lingered a few days after his marriage, con- 
 stantly attended by Sophie and the two mothers, and 
 then passed peacefully away to the better world. 
 
 The three grieving women took his remains to their 
 native village and laid them in their last resting place 
 in the old church-yard. 
 
 Soon afterwards his mother departed and left all 
 the little remnant of her savings to Sophie. 
 
 "For she is all the same as a daughter to me, and 
 I have no other child," said the poor widow to the 
 lawyer who drew up the will. 
 
 We live in a changeful country. Few of us have 
 the good or the bad fortune to 
 
 "Live where our fathers lived 
 And die where they died." 
 
 It would be tedious and irrelevant to this story to 
 tell of the various circumstances that finally led 
 Sophie and her mother to sell out all their posses- 
 sions in the little country village, and to open a board- 
 ing-house in New York, in the immediate vicinity of
 
 78 LILITH 
 
 that church which had been the scene of William 
 Downie's short ministry. 
 
 For many years the house was nominally kept by 
 the elder lady; but it was entirely managed by the 
 younger. 
 
 Many opportunities had the pretty little widow of 
 marrying a second time; but she remained faithful 
 to the memory of her first love. 
 
 She had never even permitted a lover to become a 
 suitor; for as soon as her delicate perceptions dis- 
 covered that this or that young "brother" in the 
 church, or boarder in the house, had cast an eye of 
 "favor" on her, the very shrinking of her nature threw 
 such a sphere of coldness around her that, however 
 gentle and courteous her manner might be to the 
 aspirant, he dared not cross the invisible boundary of 
 that circle. 
 
 One of her most ardent admirers said, when 
 "chaffed" on the subject of his infatuation: 
 
 "She is as sweet and gentle, as kind and courte- 
 ous as it is possible for woman to be; but it would 
 take a fellow with more impudence than I possess to 
 make love to her, or to ask her to marry him. There 
 is a sort of 'Thus far, no farther shalt thou go' about 
 her that I defy any man to transgress." 
 
 He was right. 
 
 And so, without any second love, without coquetry, 
 and without vanity, the pretty, gentle girl-widow 
 grew from youth to middle age. Then she lost her 
 mother, and became the nominal, as she had long been 
 the actual, head of the boarding-house. 
 
 It would be difficult to explain or even to under- 
 stand how Mrs. Downie had managed to succeed in 
 eliminating from the house and from her circle of ac- 
 quaintances all persons who were uncongenial to her 
 own gentle and generous spirit, and in filling them 
 with those who were in perfect accord with her, and
 
 LILITH 79 
 
 with each other. It was the progressive work of 
 years, however. 
 
 But now, at the time that Lilith first entered her 
 house, it was filled with a little society to whom she 
 seemed less a landlady than a loving mother, and 
 whom she absolutely ruled not by force of intellect, 
 or position, or power, but by unselfish goodness. Al- 
 ways, since her mother's departure, she had one or 
 more of adopted children little waifs, picked up in 
 the streets of New York, and whom she lodged, fed 
 and clothed, and sent to the public schools until they 
 were old enough to be put out to learn trades. 
 
 When any hard-headed, practical brother or sister 
 would expostulate with her on the extravagance of 
 her benevolence and the imprudence of her neglect to 
 provide comfortably for her old age, she would an- 
 swer, simply: 
 
 "Why, Lor's, you know if my poor, dear husband 
 had lived we should have had a large family of chil- 
 dren by this time, most like. But as I haven't got 
 none of my own, I feel as if I ought to take care of 
 other people's orphans. Seems to me that people 
 without children should take care of children with- 
 out parents, so far as they can. And as for the rest 
 of it, I know that if I take care of the destitute the 
 Lord will take care of me." 
 
 Acting on this simple faith, the gentle little widow 
 had brought up and provided for no less than seven 
 girls and five boys. 
 
 And that is the reason why, at the age of sixty, 
 she had not a dollar in the savings bank. 
 
 But oh! the treasure she had laid up in heaven! 
 
 At the present time she had a boy and girl, nearly 
 grown up, and when these should be well provided 
 for, by being put in the way of getting their own liv- 
 ing, she meant to take two more to bring up if she 
 should live long enough to do so.
 
 SO LILITH 
 
 So much for the kindly mistress of the house. 
 
 Her circle of lodgers consisted of seven persons. 
 First, there was the young Methodist minister, John 
 Moore, who occupied the same pulpit that had once 
 been filled for a few weeks by William Downie. And 
 here let it be explained, that whenever there came 
 to that church a young unmarried minister, he was 
 always recommended to Mrs. Downie's boarding- 
 house as to a haven where he would be perfectly safe 
 not only from the harpies of business, but from the 
 harpies of matrimony, where he would really find 
 "the comforts of a home," and possibly the society 
 of some fair, good girl, suitable to be the companion 
 of his life and labor. 
 
 Next there was Mrs. Lane, the widow of an officer 
 in the Union army, who had fallen in the battle of 
 the Wilderness, and who eked out her small pension 
 by decorating china for a large wholesale house, and 
 supported a son at Yale College. 
 
 Then there was a Mrs. Farquier the widow of a 
 colonel in the Confederate army. She was an artist, 
 and made drawings for the illustrated papers and 
 magazines. 
 
 These two women, whose husbands had fallen on 
 opposite sides of the same war, were great friends. 
 
 Next there were the two Misses Ward, orphan 
 sisters, and teachers in the public schools. 
 
 Lastly, there was Lilith, who shared the landlady's 
 room, and was expected to share it until the young 
 Methodist minister should marry and take possession 
 of the parsonage that was being fitted up for him. 
 
 Lilitli, who had been madly driven from her home 
 by the goad of her husband's stinging words: 
 
 "I never loved you! I married you only to please 
 my dying father. In a very few hours I shall leave 
 this house, never to return while you desecrate it with 
 your presence!"
 
 LILITH 81 
 
 Lilith, who had fled away, without any definite 
 purpose but to escape from the humiliations that had 
 been heaped upon her, and to support her life, until 
 she should die, by some honest toil Lilith had now 
 ample leisure to come to her senses and to reflect 
 upon her past and her future. 
 
 Ample leisure indeed! Her days and nights were 
 spent in solitude and meditation, for immediately 
 after breakfast, every morning, her fellow-lodgers, 
 workers all of them, scattered to their various occu- 
 pations the minister to study, to write, or to make 
 duty calls; the two widows to their rooms to work 
 at their arts; the two young teachers to their school- 
 rooms, and the good landlady to market, and then 
 to her household duties. 
 
 Lilith, left alone, would wander through the parlor, 
 up the stairs and into the room she shared with Mrs. 
 Downie, and then back again, in an aimless, dreary 
 manner. She could settle herself to nothing, take in- 
 terest in nothing 
 
 "Her past a waste, her future void." 
 
 Her life seemed to have come to a standstill. 
 There seemed nothing to hope for in heaven or on 
 earth. 
 
 There were days of such deep despondency that life 
 seemed a burden too heavy to be borne, and she 
 longed for death days when the unrest of her soul 
 craved the rest of oblivion in the grave. 
 
 There were moments, too, when athwart the utter 
 darkness of her soul flashed the lightning of con- 
 sciousness that she might change all this and bring 
 renewed life, action and happiness to herself; that 
 she might write to her husband, or return to her 
 home and implore him to believe in her and to bear 
 with her until she should be at liberty to clear up
 
 82 LILITH 
 
 the mystery that rested as a cold, dark storm-cloud 
 between them. 
 
 And at such moments she might have acted on the 
 impulse and hastened back to Cloud Cliffs, but for 
 the memory of his fierce, cruel, stinging words: 
 
 "I never loved you! I married you only to please 
 my dying father. In a very few hours I shall leave 
 this house, never to return while you desecrate it with 
 your presence!" 
 
 Every time these words recurred to her mind they 
 overwhelmed her with a fresh sense of unspeakable 
 humiliation. 
 
 "Oh, no!" she said to herself "no! my heart seems 
 dying in my bosom, but I must not listen to its moan! 
 I must not go back until he himself shall repent and 
 retract and entreat me to return! I can die, but I 
 cannot go back. I cannot." 
 
 And indeed existence for Lilith was now a mere 
 death in life. 
 
 All her efforts to obtain employment by advertis- 
 ing and by answering advertisements had signally 
 failed. There seemed to be no use for her in the whole 
 world. No one on earth seemed to want her in any 
 capacity. 
 
 Mrs. Downie, watching her with motherly tender- 
 ness, ventured one day to say: 
 
 "Honey, you must be awful lonesome here days, 
 when everybody has gone about their business and 
 left you by yourself." 
 
 "It does not matter, Mrs. Downie. Don't trouble 
 yourself about me, dear heart," said Lilith. 
 
 "But I must! I can't help it! Emmy Ponsonby 
 has never been to see you since that night she fetched 
 you here, nyther, has she?" 
 
 "No, Mrs. Downie!" 
 
 "Well, I reckon she's still with the weddingers in 
 Boston, or else there's another baby coming around
 
 LILITH 83 
 
 somewheres. 'Mong so many married daughters 
 there's always a baby coming 'round in Emmy's 
 family, sometimes two or three of 'em in a year, and 
 I reckon that is what's the matter now. 'Cause Emmy 
 Ponsonby never forgets her friends or her promises." 
 
 "She was very, very good to me, and I had no claim 
 on her," sighed Lilith. 
 
 "Oh, yes, but you had a claim on her, honey; as 
 you have on me and on every grown-up woman as is 
 able to help a motherless child like you," said Mrs. 
 Downie, so tenderly that Lilith's eyes filled w 7 ith tears. 
 
 "Mrs. Downie," she said, "I want to ask you some- 
 thing." 
 
 "Ask away, then, honey." 
 
 "You have taken me here a stranger in your house. 
 I have been here four weeks and you have never given 
 me your bill -" 
 
 "I was waiting till you got something to do, honey," 
 interrupted the landlady. 
 
 "And this is what I wanted to ask you: Sup- 
 pose I should be here for eight weeks or for twelve 
 weeks, without paying you?" 
 
 "Well, honey, it wouldn't so much matter as you 
 might think; because, you see, dear, you don't occupy 
 a room. You only sleep on a little bed in my room; 
 so really your being here don't make no odds. I have 
 six rooms as I let to boarders, and that is what sup- 
 ports the hoi 56. They are all let, and you don't take 
 up none of them, so your being in the house don't 
 make no odds at all, let alone it being a comfort to 
 have you." 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Downie " began Lilith, with the 
 
 tears running over her eyes; but her voice faltered 
 and her words died in silence. 
 
 "Look here, honey, it is borne in on me as if you 
 would just stop calling me Mrs. Downie not but 
 what I am fond of the name, and proud of it for
 
 84 LILITH 
 
 poor, dear Will's sake but if you would just stop 
 ceremonials and call me Aunt Sophie, like the rest of 
 the children do, and would come closer up to me, in 
 your heart, like you would feel more at home with 
 me, and would be more better satisfied, and wouldn't 
 have no doubts nor troubles about board and such. 
 Couldn't you now, honey?" 
 
 Lilith left her chair and came and sat down in the 
 good woman's lap, dropped her head upon her bosom, 
 and put her arms around her neck. 
 
 "That's right, dearie. Now remember, I am your 
 Aunt Sophie," said Mrs. Downie, folding the young 
 creature in a close embrace. 
 
 "I never knew a mother or a sister or an aunt. It 
 comforts me to be allowed to call you aunt." 
 
 "That is right, dear. Now I'm going to propose 
 another thing; that is, for you to go to market with 
 me every morning, when you feel like it. It will 
 amuse you, and take your thoughts offen troubles it 
 is unprofitable to dwell on. And then, dearie, some- 
 times you might go to meeting with me in week eve- 
 nings. We often have a real good, warm time at our 
 meetings," said the good woman, with a cheerful glow 
 in her gentle countenance. 
 
 "I thank you, dear, dear Aunt Sophie. I should 
 like to go anywhere with you," said Lilith, as she 
 kissed her friend, and arose to her feet. 
 
 No more was said about the board bill, the sub- 
 ject of which had been introduced by Lilith herself. 
 
 But the next morning, as Mrs. Downie was putting 
 on her bonnet to go to market, she spied an envelope 
 directed as follows: 
 
 "To AUNT SOPHIE, FROM LILITH." 
 
 She took it from the toilet cushion upon which it 
 was pinned, and found three ten-dollar greenbacks 
 inclosed in a short letter, which she read:
 
 LILITH 85 
 
 "DEAR AUNT SOPHIE: If I were in need, there is no 
 one in this whole world to whom I should be so en- 
 tirely willing to be indebted as to yourself. And if 
 I were in want, it would be to you, first of all, to whom 
 I should come for help, feeling sure of obtaining it. 
 But, dear friend, I am not so poor in funds as I am 
 supposed to be. I have enough to keep me for a year 
 at least, even if I should get no work to do. So, please 
 take the inclosed without any qualms to your benevo- 
 lent heart. I shall still be infinitely indebted to you 
 for love, sympathy and protection. LILITH." 
 
 Mrs. Downie read the note, looked at the money, 
 and communed with herself: 
 
 "Now what did the child go and do that sort of 
 thing in that way for? Trapping me into taking the 
 money in that manner. She knew very well that if 
 she had handed it to me I wouldn't have touched it. 
 She a galliant soldier's orphan, too. And now I s'pose 
 if I hand it to her she won't take it back, no way! 
 Xow I wonder if she has got a plenty of money, sure 
 enough? Sufficient to keep her for a whole year, as 
 she says? If she has, this would be a convenience, 
 and a real godsend, just at this time, too, when I 
 am trying to make up the rent. Yet I don't like to 
 take it offen that poor child, nyther, and she only 
 occupying a cot in my bed-room. Well, I'll go and 
 try to make her take it back, and if she won't, why, 
 she won't, and I'll put it to the rent money, and get 
 that off my mind to-day." 
 
 So saying, the landlady went in search of Lilith, 
 whom she found in the parlor, ready and waiting to 
 go to market with her friend. 
 
 "Well, Aunt Sophie, we have a fine day for our 
 walk," began Lilith. 
 
 "Yes, honey; but before we go you must take this 
 back again," said the good woman, trying to force
 
 86 LILITH 
 
 the money into Lilith's hand, " 'cause I don't want 
 to charge you any board until I can give you a room, 
 my dear; and that won't be until Brother Moore gets 
 married and goes. And then I will take pay." 
 
 Lilith opened her hand with the palm down, so 
 that it could hold nothing, saying, at the same time: 
 
 "And I will not impose myself on you, dear Aunt 
 Sophie, until all my funds are spent, and then I 
 shall continue to stay with you perhaps until you 
 turn me out." 
 
 "That would be forever, then, honey; or, leastways, 
 it would be as long as I should live, for I should never 
 do that cruel thing on no account," said the old lady. 
 
 And so the strife in generosity was ended, and the 
 two friends left the house together. 
 
 As they walked down the avenue, Mrs. Downie said : 
 
 "I think, dear, as you would be a great deal hap- 
 pier if you were to have some regular employment. 
 You came here to get something to do, didn't you, 
 now?" 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Sophie," said Lilith, sadly. 
 
 "Well, have you tried?" 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Sophie. I have advertised in the New 
 York papers, and I have answered advertisements, but 
 have not yet succeeded in getting anything to do." 
 
 "What did you advertise for?" 
 
 "For the situation of private governess in a family, 
 or assistant teacher in a school, or translator, or 
 copyist, or as companion for an invalid lady or an 
 elderly lady, or as amanuensis to a literary lady. For 
 all these situations I have advertised at various times, 
 and have received not one reply." 
 
 "Ah, dearie me! Every road to business is so over- 
 crowded! But you said you answered some of the 
 advertisements of such places as you would like to 
 take."
 
 LILITH 87 
 
 "Yes, but no notice was taken of any of my 
 letters." 
 
 "Ah, you see, child, I suppose there were hundreds 
 of applications for every place, and they couldn't an- 
 swer all the applicants." 
 
 "No, I suppose not," said Lilith, patiently. 
 
 "And it costs so much to advertise," sighed Mrs. 
 Downie. 
 
 "Yes," said Lilith. "And so I have given up adver- 
 tising on my own account, and I only answer the 
 advertisements of others. That does not cost so much; 
 only the paper and postage stamp." 
 
 "Well, dear, I hope you will succeed at last," said 
 the old lady. 
 
 "Yes. 'It is a long lane that has no turning,' as 
 our homely proverb has it," said Lilith. 
 
 "Yes, dear, I know it. 'It is a long lane that has 
 no turning,' and the worst of it is that when the lane 
 does turn it doesn't always turn into 
 
 'Fresh fields and pastures green,' 
 
 but into some dusty highway a deal harder to travel 
 than was the long lane itself! But there! I ought 
 not to have said that. I don't want to discourage 
 you, dearie," suddenly said Aunt Sophie, with a qualm 
 of compunction. 
 
 "I saw an advertisement in this morning's Pursui- 
 vant that pleased me and that I have answered. I 
 have brought my answer to drop it into the post. 
 But I scarcely hope that anything will come of it." 
 
 "What was it for, dearie?" 
 
 "A companion for a widow going abroad. The ap- 
 plicant must be a young lady, healthy, agreeable, 
 well-educated, competent to speak French, Italian 
 and Spanish. Oh, I have all the list of requirements 
 at my fingers' ends, you see."
 
 88 LILITH 
 
 Aunt Sophie stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, 
 to the great annoyance of other foot-passengers, and 
 stared in mild wonder at her companion. 
 
 "Now, where in all this wide world do that widow 
 expect to find a young lady, accomplished as all that 
 comes to, who is in need to go out and get her living?" 
 she inquired. 
 
 "Oh, dear Aunt Sophie, there are many, many 
 among the impoverished children of the South who, 
 in the days of their prosperity, had received such 
 education." 
 
 "And do you think you would suit, my dear?" 
 
 "I can but try. I must try, you know." 
 
 "Well, I hope that widow will be willing to give a 
 high salary for all that she wants." 
 
 "The advertisement says that a liberal salary will 
 be given; but also adds that the highest testimonials 
 of character and competency will be required." 
 
 "Well, my dear, you can furnish them, anyhow." 
 
 "I don't know. I have my college testimonials, or 
 could get them; but for the rest " 
 
 "Well, you have Mrs. Ponsonby." 
 
 "But she knows so little of me," sighed Lilith, as 
 she reflected how that good, credulous woman had 
 come to her side in the spirit of compassion and had 
 taken her respectability quite for granted. 
 
 "Well, honey, don't sigh, that's a dearie; because 
 if you don't get the place it makes no odds. I dare 
 say that widow is some poor, infirm old lady going 
 to travel for her health, who would be no end of a 
 trial to you. And you know if you never get noth- 
 ing to do, you can always live long o' me and be 
 comfortable always. 'Deed I feel so drawn to you, 
 dearie, that I would like to adopt you if you would 
 let me. It would make no odds, leastways not much 
 at the end of the year. And I meant to adopt two 
 more as soon as ever John and Mary are provided
 
 LILITH 89 
 
 for. And I reckon I had better adopt one like you 
 than another child. I mightn't live to see the child 
 grow up, for I am getting old. Will you think of 
 what I tell you, dearie?" 
 
 "Think of it? I shall never forget it so long as I 
 live, dear Aunt Sophie," warmly responded Lilith. 
 
 "Here is the post," said Mrs. Downie, pausing at 
 the pillar box, into which Lilith dropped her letter. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 LILITH'S FIRST PLACE 
 
 My life you ask for? You must know 
 
 My little life can ne'er be told; 
 It has been full of joy and woe, 
 
 Though I am but a few years old. 
 
 A. A. Proctor. 
 
 A WEEK went by without bringing any answer to 
 Lilith's application. 
 
 She scarcely expected to receive one, indeed. She 
 was becoming inured to disappointment, for, in fact, 
 she had known nothing else in connection with her 
 efforts to obtain employment. 
 
 She was beginning to despair of success in this line 
 of enterprise, and even to contemplate the possibility 
 of remaining with Mrs. Downie for an indefinite time, 
 and of becoming useful to her in some good way. 
 
 Lilith thanked Heaven that the rigor of her deso- 
 late doom was tempered with mercy in the person 
 of Aunt Sophie. She was beginning to love the sweet 
 old lady, with that satisfying affection which is born 
 of esteem and perfect trust. Lilith knew that what- 
 ever evil fortune should be in store for her, it would
 
 90 LILITH 
 
 not be the loss of Aunt Sophie's motherly care and 
 protection. 
 
 She knew if she were to become quite penniless, 
 and should be stricken with a long and tedious ill- 
 ness, that Aunt Sophie would never permit her to be 
 sent to a public hospital, but would nurse her ten- 
 derly and skilfully at home. 
 
 And this was the dear woman at whom some people 
 not many, to the credit of human nature, be it said 
 had sneered, as too plain, homely and ignorant in 
 looks, speech and manner, ever to have been fit for 
 a minister's wife, though she was a minister's widow. 
 
 These people little know that all the spare money 
 of the two widows William Downie's mother and 
 Sophie Wood's mother had gone by mutual agree- 
 ment to educate Willy, leaving Sophie to get what 
 benefit she could out of the village school, which 
 could never cure her of the quaint, old-fashioned, 
 ungrammatical talk she had learned at her mother's 
 knee and used all her life. 
 
 As for Lilith, she loved this homely speech, for it 
 reminded her of her own country neighborhood, and 
 she loved every peculiarity of the dear unselfish crea- 
 ture even the carelessness of her dress, whose only 
 redeeming quality was its perfect cleanliness, and 
 the disorder of her fine, thin gray hair, which was as 
 well disheveled as if it had been attended to by a 
 fashionable hairdresser because all these revealed in 
 the active, industrious woman, not laziness or idle- 
 ness, but utter self-forgetfulness in the constant ser- 
 vice of others. 
 
 But she was growing old, and Lilith wondered if 
 in the failure of all her efforts to obtain employment, 
 and in the possible necessity of her having to remain 
 with Aunt Sophie, whether she might not help her 
 in some substantial manner; as to learn to keep the
 
 LILITH 91 
 
 house, do the marketing, cast up the accounts and 
 pay the bills. 
 
 It was Lilith's inspiration always to be useful. 
 
 It was late on Saturday evening that Lilith was 
 sitting alone in the front parlor, all her fellow-lodgers 
 being absent from the house or at work in their rooms, 
 when the postman, on his last round for the night 
 and the week rang the door-bell. 
 
 It happened that Aunt Sophie answered the sum- 
 mons. There was a little parley at the door, and 
 finally the old lady came in with a letter in her hand, 
 which she held out to Lilith, saying: 
 
 "Here, my dear, see if this is for you. The carrier 
 is waiting to know. You see it is directed to the house 
 all right, and the number and street all right, but 
 the name is all wrong, if it is for you; though it is 
 so like your name that it must be for you." 
 
 Lilith took the letter and looked at the superscrip- 
 tion: 
 
 "Elizabeth Wyvil." 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Sophie, this is for me, and I think it 
 must be in answer to my application," she said. 
 
 "Very well, my dear; I will go and tell the man," 
 replied the old lady, as she went again to the front 
 door to explain the case and dismiss the postman. 
 
 "Now then, dearie, is the answer favorable?" she 
 inquired, as she returned and took a seat beside Lilith, 
 who sat at the centre table reading her letter by the 
 light of the gasalier. 
 
 "It is favorable; if it were not, you know, I should 
 never have received it. Advertisers, I suppose, do 
 not take the trouble to write rejections," replied 
 Lilith." 
 
 "No, I reckon not, especially as in every case I 
 have heard there are hundreds of applications for 
 one place. Well, dearie, has the widow lady decided 
 to engage you?"
 
 92 LILITH 
 
 "No, not decided; she has only appointed an in- 
 terview with me on Monday at twelve noon, at the 
 Constellation Hotel." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "But that, you know, is very hopeful." 
 
 "Yes, I reckon it is. Well, honey, I hope you will 
 find her a good, kind friend; but who is she, my dearie? 
 Ah! here they come!" 
 
 Several of the boarders entered the parlor, and 
 cut short the speech of Aunt Sophie. 
 
 Lilith left the room and went up to Mrs. Downie's 
 chamber to read over her letter again. 
 
 It was very short, merely acknowledging the receipt 
 of the applicant's letter, and asking for a personal 
 interview at the time and place already specified. 
 
 Of course Lilith woulld keep the appointment and 
 accept the position if it should be offered to her. 
 
 But, she asked herself, would she be justified in 
 leaving the country, without first informing her hus- 
 band and giving him the opportunity of seeking a 
 reconciliation with her, should he desire to do so? 
 
 "I never loved you. I married you only to please 
 my dying father. In a very few hours I shall leave 
 this house, never to return while you desecrate it with 
 your presence!" 
 
 These words came back to her in all their fierce, 
 bitter, scornful cruelty. "Came back to her?" They 
 had never left her. They smouldered in her memory 
 always, and only blazed up in a fiery heat at the very 
 thought of seeking any notice from the husband who 
 had contemptuously cast her out; but whom oh, 
 woe she still so deeply, so painfully loved. 
 
 No! he had turned her off, and she must not call 
 his attention to herself in any manner. She must 
 let him go his way, untroubled by her. As for her- 
 self, she could live even in pain and sorrow until 
 she should be called away to the land of peace.
 
 LILITH 93 
 
 Lilith had ample time and opportunity for reflec- 
 tion between that Saturday night and the Monday 
 noon when she was to wait on her possible future 
 employer. So it was after mature deliberation that 
 she decided to enter the service of the lady adver- 
 tiser, supposing that she should be permitted to do 
 so. 
 
 On Monday morning she set out to walk to the 
 hotel. She arrived a few minutes before the appointed 
 hour and sent up her card by a porter. 
 
 While she waited in the reception-room, many ques- 
 tions arose in her mind. 
 
 Who was this German baroness who had adver- 
 tised for a lady traveling companion, and had ap- 
 pointed this meeting with her, and with a view to en- 
 gaging her services? 
 
 Was she old, sickly, melancholy, ill-tempered and 
 exacting, as Aunt Sophie, in her tender anxiety for 
 Lilith's happiness, had feared that she might be? 
 
 Or was she young, handsome and fashionable? 
 
 Would the companion be required to nurse an aged 
 invalid, or to amuse a young beauty? 
 
 While Lilith was anxiously considering these ques- 
 tions, the door opened and a little old gentleman, 
 dressed in clerical black, and having a little, round, 
 gray head like a silver ball and a fresh, rosy face 
 like a baby's, came bowing into the room, walked up 
 to Lilith, and bowing politely, said: 
 
 "Mademoiselle, Madame la Baronne desires that 
 you will ascend to her apartments." 
 
 Lilith arose, trembling, bowed, and followed her 
 conductor to the elevator, which in a few seconds 
 brought them to the second floor. 
 
 Here the old gentleman took her out, along a 
 handsomely furnished hall to a pair of folding black 
 walnut doors, beside which sat a servant out of livery, 
 who arose and opened them for the visitor to enter.
 
 94 LILITH 
 
 Lilith found herself in a spacious apartment, whose 
 first impression was of gloom and splendor. Rich, 
 heavy curtains vailed three lofty front windows; but 
 between their openings long needles of light struck 
 here and there on glowing crimson velvet, or gilded 
 cornices or framework, tall mirrors, elegant vases, 
 filled with rare and fragrant exotics, glimpses of rare 
 pictures, statues, stands of every graceful form, and 
 seats of every luxurious make, and under all a carpet 
 that 
 
 "Stole all noises from the feet." 
 
 Shadow flecked with gleams of splendor; silence 
 softly moved by the sighing of an invisible Eolian 
 harp; cool air just slightly fragrant with the delicate 
 breath of fresh, living flowers. 
 
 A pleasing awe, as of entering a chapel of the olden 
 time, of incense and artistic decoration, crept over 
 Lilith. 
 
 As her eyes became accustomed to the religious 
 gloom, she saw the figure of a lady rise slowly from 
 one of the reclining-chairs and stand waiting to re- 
 ceive her a lady of majestic beauty and grace, whose 
 perfect form was clothed from head to foot in a 
 closely fitting, rich black velvet trained dress, with- 
 out trimming or ornament of any kind; and whose 
 beautiful head was crowned with an aureole of 
 golden hair, which her widow's cap but half concealed. 
 
 Lilith approached and courtesied involuntarily as 
 to a queen, so much did the grand beauty of this lady 
 impress her imagination. 
 
 "Madame, I have the honor to bring you mad- 
 emoiselle," said the old gentleman, bowing. 
 
 Lilith courtesied again, and glanced up at the lady's 
 face a beautiful face somehow sugg stive of the 
 surroundings, shadow and splendor perfect features, 
 a brilliant blonde complexion, dark, glorious eyes, and
 
 LILITH 95 
 
 golden-hued hair, the radiant beauty of the whole en- 
 hanced by the dead black of the mourning robe. 
 
 "Le Grange, you may retire," said the lady. 
 
 And the old gentleman, with another bow, with- 
 drew. 
 
 The lady resumed her seat, and by a courteous 
 motion of her hand invited Lilith to take another near 
 her. 
 
 "You are much younger than I expected to find 
 you, Miss Wyvil," said the lady, when both were 
 seated. 
 
 "I am not Miss Wyvil, madame," said Lilith, who, 
 since her marriage, had always written herself 
 Elizabeth Wyvil Hereward, but who, having been for- 
 bidden by her husband to retain his name, meant to 
 obey him by dropping it, yet who wished to avoid 
 deception in representing herself to be an unmarried 
 girl. 
 
 The lady looked somewhat surprised, gazed wist- 
 fully at the speaker for a few seconds, and then said: 
 
 "You are very young to be a widow." 
 
 "I am nearly eighteen, madame," said Lilith, with- 
 out deeming it necessary to enter into farther explana- 
 tions for was she not, indeed, "a widow in fate, if 
 not in fact?" 
 
 "And you look even younger than that. When did 
 
 you lose " the lady began to question, but seeing 
 
 Lilith trembling and turning pale, she desisted, and 
 after a little pause she turned the conversation. 
 
 "Mrs. Wyvil, I have had about two hundred an- 
 swers to my advertisement for a companion. These 
 have taken myself and my private secretary, Mon- 
 sieur Le Grange, about a week to get through with 
 examining, although at about two-thirds of the letters 
 we only glanced to see that they were written by 
 utterly incompetent persons, who could not, indeed, 
 write a fair, legible hand or compose a grammatical
 
 96 LILITH 
 
 sentence. Of the other third we selected about a 
 dozen persons, whom we saw, in turn, by appoint- 
 ment during the week. None of them not one of 
 them suited me. Several were evidently in bad 
 health, fitter for an infirmary than for any other 
 place. Several others, though they were fair English 
 scholars, had little or no knowledge of other lan- 
 guages; and the others were so unlovely in looks and 
 manner that I could not think of one of them as a 
 companion. Your letter was one of the last I re- 
 ceived, and you are the very last with whom I have 
 appointed an interview. Your letter made a favorable 
 impression on me, and your appearance has deepened 
 it," concluded madame, who had evidently given these 
 details only to afford Lilith the opportunity of recover- 
 ing her composure. 
 
 Lilith bowed in respectful acknowledgment. 
 
 "The objection, as yet, seems to be your youth," 
 continued the lady. 
 
 "As another in my case said: 'It is a fault that 
 must mend daily,' madame," replied Lilith. 
 
 The lady smiled. She had a rare, brilliant, beau- 
 tiful smile. 
 
 "You are apt at repartee and quotation," she said. 
 "But now, about your knowledge of modern lan- 
 guages. I can see that you have all the other re- 
 quirements." 
 
 "I am familiar with the languages mentioned in 
 your advertisement, madame, and I have testimonials 
 from professors to that effect." 
 
 "I would rather judge for myself. You will find 
 writing materials on that table near your left hand. 
 Translate and write out for me there, in the lan- 
 guages required, this text, which is the anchor of hope 
 for the Christian: 
 
 " 'For God so loved the world that He gave Hi:-; only
 
 LILITH 97 
 
 "begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should 
 not perish, but have everlasting life.' ' 
 
 Lilith went and sat down at the table, took a sheet 
 of note paper and wrote slowly, and with some pauses 
 for recollection and selection, until she had completed 
 her task, and filled a page of note paper, which she 
 brought and gave to the lady. 
 
 She smiled, bowed, and read as follows: 
 
 "Car Dieu a tellement aime le monde, qu'il a donne 
 son Fils unique, afin que quiconque, croit en lui ne 
 perisse point, mais, qu'il la vie eternelle. 
 
 "Perciocche Iddio ha tanta amato il mando, c'egli 
 ha dato il suo unigenito Figliuola acciocche chiunque 
 crede in lui non perisca, ma abbia eita eterna. 
 
 "Porque de tal manera amo Deos al mundo que hayo 
 dado, a su Hijo unigenito; para que todo aquel que en 
 el creyere, no ce pierda, mas tenga vida eterna." 
 
 "I think these will do, Mrs. Wyvil. I am not a 
 very accomplished linguist, but I will submit these 
 specimens to Professor Le Grange for his opinion," 
 said the lady, as she touched a golden timbre at her 
 side. 
 
 The door opened, and the man whom Lilith had 
 seen in the hall appeared. 
 
 "Request Monsieur Le Grange to come here," said 
 the lady. 
 
 The man disappeared, and was succeeded by the 
 little, round-bodied Frenchman. 
 
 "Monsieur, will you have the goodness to glance 
 over these translations, and give me your opinion of 
 them?" inquired the lady, handing the paper to the 
 professor, who bowed he spent half his time in the 
 presence of his employer in bowing looked over
 
 98 LILITH 
 
 the page, then read it carefully, and returned it, say- 
 ing: 
 
 "The translations are correct, madame." 
 
 "Thank you, monsieur. That will do." 
 
 The professor bowed and retired. 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Wyvil, there remains but to ask for 
 your references a mere matter of form, my dear, for 
 believe me I am very favorably inclined towards you." 
 
 Lilith's face flushed as she answered: 
 
 "I have such testimonials as I brought from col- 
 lege at the end of my last and graduating term. I 
 have no other referees, except a lady of Baltimore, 
 who gave me permission to use her name. She is a 
 Mrs. Ponsonby, of Calvert Street, in that city, and 
 she is frequently in New York here, where she has a 
 married daughter, Mrs. Saxony, of Street." 
 
 "Oh! I know them both mother and daughter. 
 I have met them in Washington and at Newport. 
 They will do quite well," said the lady, cordially. 
 
 "But, madame," said Lilith, as the painful flush 
 deepened in her cheek, "I don't know Mrs. Saxony 
 at all, and very little of Mrs. Ponsonby except that 
 that that she took me up on faith and " 
 
 "That does not matter. I can trust Mrs. Ponsonby; 
 and, my dear, I can trust your candid, truthful face. 
 Are you equally satisfied with me?" 
 
 "Oh, madame!" said Lilith, deprecatingly. 
 
 "Then we have only to speak of salary twelve 
 hundred dollars a year, paid quarterly. Are the terms 
 satisfactory?" 
 
 "Oh, madame, they are very munificent. The salary 
 is very much, larger than I expected." 
 
 "It is not too large for one of your accomplish- 
 ments, who is, besides, required to quit her country 
 to expatriate herself, perhaps, for years." 
 
 Lilith made no reply. She was beginning to tremble 
 at the prospect of an indefinite exile.
 
 LILITH 99 
 
 "I expect to sail on the first of June. Can you be 
 ready by that time?" 
 
 Lilith paused to consider. Should she take this 
 plunge? 
 
 "I never loved you. ... I shall leave this 
 house, never to return while you desecrate it with 
 your presence." As these stinging words arose in her 
 memory, she roused herself and answered, firmly: 
 
 "Yes, niadame, I shall be quite ready." 
 
 "Very well, my dear. Your duties will be very 
 light almost merely nominal. I wanted a young, 
 pretty, accomplished and agreeable companion. I did 
 not expect to find one. But I have found one in you. 
 I will not detain you longer at present. Come in at 
 this time to-morrow, if you please, and we will talk 
 further," said the lady, rising. 
 
 "One moment, if you will pardon me, madame, I 
 have not yet the honor of knowing the name of the 
 lady to whom my services are pledged," said Lilith. 
 
 "Now is that possible? Well, my dear, if you were 
 better acquainted with the world you would know 
 one thing about me that I am a very unbusiness- 
 like individual," said the lady, as she placed a card 
 in the hands of her companion. 
 
 Lilith bowed and read: BARONESS VON BRUYIN. 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 LILITH AND THE BARONESS 
 
 Life is only bright when it proceedeth 
 Towards a truer, deeper life above; 
 
 Human love is sweetest when it leadeth 
 To a more divine and perfect love.
 
 100 LILITH 
 
 Learn the mission of progression duly; 
 
 Do not call each glorious change decay; 
 But know we only hold our treasures truly 
 
 When it seems as if they passed away. 
 
 Nor dare to blame God's gifts for incompleteness; 
 
 In that want their beauty lies. They roll 
 Towards some infinite depth of love and sweetness, 
 
 Bearing onward man's reluctant soul. 
 
 A. A. Proctor. 
 
 THE Baroness Von Bruyin, the name and title on 
 the card, bore no especial significance for Lilith. 
 
 She bowed as she took the enameled bit of paste- 
 board and withdrew from the room. 
 
 The little old Frenchman came from some other 
 room opening upon the same corrdior, and politely 
 escorted her downstairs and out of the hotel. 
 
 "Shall I have the honor to call a cab for you, 
 madame?" he inquired, when the} 7 had reached the 
 vestibule. 
 
 **No, monsieur, thank you. I prefer to walk," re- 
 plied Lilith. 
 
 The professor stood aside to let Lilith go out. 
 
 Lilith "preferred to walk" that she might be alone, 
 and have a longer time for reflection and for self-col- 
 lection before reaching her boarding-house, and hav- 
 ing to meet the kind inquiries of Aunt Sophie. 
 
 The die was cast, then. Her fate was sealed. She 
 had taken the step from which she felt there was no 
 honorable retreat unless, indeed, her husband should 
 relent; should retract all his bitter charges against 
 her; should seek her out, ask her to return to the 
 home from which he had madly driven her, and set 
 up his own superior claims to her allegiance in oppo- 
 sition to those of madame, the baroness. 
 
 But this, Lilith knew, was a possibility far too re- 
 mote to be thought of.
 
 LILITH 101 
 
 And so she was or she tried to persuade herself 
 that she was glad that her fate was decided for her 
 by circumstances beyond her control. 
 
 With all a very young girl's enthusiasm for an im- 
 perial beauty, Lilith admired the baroness, and felt 
 that, since she must take service with some lady, she 
 could be better satisfied with the companionship of 
 the beautiful and gracious Madame Von Bruyin than 
 with any one else. 
 
 Lilith walked so slowly that when she reached her 
 boarding-house she found that lunch had been over 
 for some time, and all her fellow-lodgers had dis- 
 persed to their business or to their rooms. 
 
 But Aunt Sophie was anxiously waiting for her in 
 the parlor. 
 
 "Take off your things down here, dearie, and then 
 come with me to the dining-room, and you shall have 
 a cup of fresh tea before you tell me anything, though 
 I am half dying to hear," was the greeting of the old 
 lady. 
 
 Lilith kissed her affectionately, and then followed 
 her to the basement dining-room, where a fresh white 
 cloth had been laid over one end of the long table, 
 and adorned with a fine china tea service that had 
 been bought many years before for Aunt Sophie's 
 bridal housekeeping, but which was never, never 
 used, except on the most sacred occasions. 
 
 The kettle was boiling, and the tea was soon made 
 and brought in, with the accompaniments of light 
 biscuits and lamb chops. 
 
 But not until Lilith had drunk her first cup of tea 
 would Aunt Sophie, who sat beside her, watching her 
 affectionately, ask one question. 
 
 Then when she had refilled the cup for her young 
 guest, she inquired: 
 
 "And have you got the situation, honey?" 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Sophie."
 
 102 LILITH 
 
 "Oh, dearie me! I ought to be glad, but I ain't. 
 I had a heap rather kept you here long o' me. And 
 are you really going abroad, too?" 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Sophie. I cannot help going. I must." 
 
 "Oh, dearie me! dearie me! I hope you will do well, 
 honey. When are you going?" 
 
 "We sail in the Kron Prinz on the first of June." 
 
 "So soon! All me! I shall never live to see you 
 come back, dearie." 
 
 "Oh, yes, you will, dear Aunt Sophie. Your good 
 and useful life will be prolonged for many years yet." 
 
 "Oh, how selfish I am! I ought not to think about 
 myself, but about you. Dearie, I hope the lady you 
 are going with will not be too hard on you. You are 
 such a child! Is she real old and ugly?" anxiously 
 inquired Aunt Sophie. 
 
 "Oh, no! She is young, and very, very handsome." 
 
 "Oh, then, I hope she is not haughty and tyrannical 
 so many of those rich, proud beauties are. But, 
 oh, dear, how wrong of me to talk so, to discourage 
 you. Though I did not mean to do that. It is be- 
 cause I am so anxious about you, honey. Just as 
 anxious as if you were my own dear child." 
 
 "I know it, dear Aunt Sophie. But do not be un- 
 easy on my account. I think the lady with whom I 
 have engaged will be very kind to me. I do, indeed. 
 Certainly during our interview she was very gracious 
 and considerate. She gives me a very large salary, 
 and tells me that my duties will be very light merely 
 nominal. That I shall have nothing to do for her but 
 to keep her company," said Lilith, cheerfully. 
 
 " 'Nothing to do but to keep her company.' But 
 that's the hardest sort of work with some people, my 
 dearie. There I go again, discouraging of you, when 
 I ought to be doing of the very opposite sort of thing. 
 What an old fool I am, to be sure. Don't mind me,
 
 LILITH 103 
 
 honey, but tell me what this lady's name is. Don't 
 you know, dear, I have never heard that yet?" 
 
 "I never heard it until about two hours ago. I 
 had actually engaged myself to her before I knew 
 her name/' said Lilith, with a faint smile. 
 
 "Lor 5 ! Now that shows how very little you know 
 of the world, and how unfit you are to be thrown, 
 unprotected, upon it! But what is the lady's name, 
 now you do know it?" 
 
 "She is the Baroness Von Bruyin." 
 
 "Von Brewing? Brewing? 'Pears to me I've 
 heerd that name before connected with connected 
 with some grand wedding to-do at the great cathe- 
 dral, where the archbishop and ever so many bishops 
 performed the ceremony. Yes, yes, I disremember 
 her name; but she was a great beauty and a great 
 heiress, being an only darter of some rich city banker, 
 rich as creases; and he was a Mr. Brewing, another 
 rich banker, a heap richer than creases; but older than 
 her own father so old, so old, as never was seen be- 
 fore at a wedding. And they said how, when he went 
 back to Germany and took his beautiful wife, he paid 
 the emperor lots of money to make him a baron, and 
 it was all to please his wife, so she might be a 
 baroness. Yes, yes! I remember now! And so she's 
 a widow. And the old man is dead! Well, well, well, 
 how things do turn about! Not much use in his get- 
 ting married to a beautiful young woman and getting 
 himself made a baron, when he was just ready to de- 
 part away from this life! Ah me! 'Vanity of vanities, 
 all is vanity,' saith the preacher, and it is true!" 
 
 Lilith made no reply, and presently Aunt Sophie 
 resumed: 
 
 "I see how it is! She don't like to shut herself up 
 away from society, while she is in her first mourn- 
 ing, as she would have to do if she stayed in this 
 city, where she was a sort of queen; so she is going
 
 104 LILITH 
 
 to travel to amuse herself until the time of fashion- 
 able mourning is over, and she wants a bright young 
 thing like you to keep her company! But in a year 
 or two she will be back here, and then we shall see! 
 But there I go again, sinning as fast as I can! I 
 wonder what makes me so uncharitable? I reckon 
 it is because I haven't been to class-meeting lately. 
 I'll go this very evening, when my class meets, and 
 I'll get the brethren to pray for me. It's a great 
 help." 
 
 And seeing that Lilith had finished her lunch, the 
 old lady arose from the table and began carefully to 
 gather her precious china and to wash it up to put 
 it away. 
 
 Lilith went up to her own room, to look over her 
 slender wardrobe, and to think over what she would 
 have to buy for her sea voyage and her European 
 tour. 
 
 While she was still engaged there, late in the after- 
 noon, her fellow-lodgers were discussing the details 
 of a horrible and mysterious murder that had been 
 perpetrated in the city, the night previous, but only 
 discovered that morning. It was in all the evening 
 papers, forming the sensation of the hour. 
 
 In the same paper was a short paragraph, stating 
 that: 
 
 "The body of an unknown woman, suspected to be 
 that of Mrs. Tudor Hereward, wife of the Congress- 
 man from that district, a young lady who had dis- 
 appeared from her home some weeks before, had been 
 found in the woods bordering Cave Creek, near Frost- 
 hill, in West Virginia. A wound on the back of the 
 head indicated that she had been the victim of 
 tramps." 
 
 That was all. If any one read it they paid but
 
 LILITH 105 
 
 little attention to it; their imaginations being en- 
 grossed by the details of the more shocking tragedy 
 in their midst. 
 
 At dinner in the evening the dreadful occurrence 
 was discussed. 
 
 After dinner, Lilith took up the paper from the 
 parlor table, not to read the details of the murder 
 her whole soul shrank in loathing from such a sub- 
 ject but to look at the Congressional news, as she 
 had looked at it daily since her flight from her home, 
 to see if any mention was made of her husband. 
 
 But there was none. Not once since she parted 
 with him on that bitter night at the Cliffs had she 
 seen his name. The once active, industrious, irrepres- 
 sible Hereward seemed to have dropped out of the 
 Congressional debates. 
 
 This continued silence sometimes caused Lilith 
 serious anxiety. Was Tudor ill? she asked herself, 
 and then quickly repressed her rising anxiety with 
 the recollection of that bitter taunt, which, like a 
 poisoned arrow, had left an incurable, festering- 
 wound which daily ate deeper and deeper into her 
 spirit. 
 
 At length Lilith put away the paper, without hav- 
 ing seen the paragraph that concerned her so much 
 that it might have changed the whole current of her 
 life. 
 
 The next day, at the appointed hour, she went again 
 to the hotel to see Madame Von Bruyin. 
 
 As we said, the name of the baroness had no es- 
 pecial significance for Lilith, for when Tudor Here- 
 ward, in the first weeks of their married life, had 
 told Lilith the history of his first love adventure, he 
 had in delicate consideration abstained from men- 
 tioning the name of the lady or of the gentleman 
 who afterwards became her husband. And although 
 the gossips she had heard talking of the matter in
 
 106 LILITH 
 
 the parlor of the hotel had just once let fall the 
 of Mr. Bruyin, it had made no impression on her 
 memory, and there was nothing to connect the per- 
 sonality of the baroness with that of the beauty who 
 had been the object of Tudor Hereward's first passion. 
 
 When Lilith reached the hotel and made inquiries 
 she found the polite old Frenchman w r aiting in the 
 parlor to conduct her to the apartment of the 
 baroness. 
 
 The lady received Lilith with a kiss, saying, as she 
 placed her in a comfortable chair and resumed her 
 own seat: 
 
 "My dear, I have been thinking of you ever since 
 I saw you last. I feel that I shall grow very fond 
 of you." 
 
 "You are very good, madame," replied the girl. 
 
 "Child, I hope that in going abroad with me you 
 are not leaving any one whom you will suffer in part- 
 ing from?" said the baroness, in the gentlest tone. 
 
 "I am not leaving any one in the world who loves 
 me, except my landlady, and she has only known me 
 for a little while," said Lilith, with a slight tone of 
 sorrow in her voice that she could not quite repress. 
 
 "'Only known you for a little while!' And I f<pr 
 a less. But it does not take long to learn to love 
 you, my dear. Will you tell me something about 
 yourself? I am very much interested in you. In- 
 deed, I am filled with wonder and speculation con- 
 cerning you. When I advertised for a companion, 
 young, agreeable and accomplished, as I desired her 
 to be, Monsieur le Professeur plainly told me that rara 
 avis was not to be found in the ranks of women who 
 were seeking situations; that such an education as I 
 required in my companion was the privilege only of 
 wealth and genius. And the answers to my call 
 proved that he was right. In about two hundred ap- 
 plications yours was the only one that suited me.
 
 LILITH 107 
 
 And you, my dear, have really excelled my most un- 
 reasonable expectations. Your extreme youth, which 
 at first view seemed an objection, is really an addi- 
 tional charm. Your having been married, too, seems 
 to draw us nearer together. Two young and recently 
 bereaved widows may surely sympathize with each 
 other. I hope, dear, that you will consider me as a 
 friend." 
 
 "You are very kind to me, madame. I have no 
 words to thank you, but I will try to make my actions 
 speak/' said Lilith. 
 
 "And some time, dear, not now, but some time 
 when you feel that you can do so, I hope that you 
 will tell me something about yourself, something 
 about the circumstances that have forced you, a young, 
 beautiful and accomplished girl you are little more 
 than a child, although you have been married to 
 take the situation of lady's companion," said the 
 baroness, gently. 
 
 Lilith had a struggle to control her emotions; but 
 she soon conquered them, and replied, with forced 
 calmness: 
 
 "You are entitled to my fullest confidence, dear 
 madame, for you have taken me almost on trust, as 
 everybody has so kindly done since I left home " 
 
 "Who could do otherwise, my dear? Who could 
 look in that pretty, tender, child-face and doubt you? 
 But go on, my dear, with what you were about to 
 say." 
 
 "Only this, madame, that some time, when I can, 
 I will tell you my little story. But now I can only 
 say this much I am from West Virginia. A reverse, 
 a calamity, sudden and overwhelming as a thunder- 
 bolt or an earthquake, laid waste my life and de- 
 stroyed all my happiness in an instant, 'in the twink- 
 ling of an eye,' and cast me alone upon the world. 
 I came to New York to get away from a scene so full
 
 108 LILITH 
 
 of miserable associations as my home had become, 
 and seek a living here among strangers, all of whom 
 have so charitably taken me on trust, when they 
 might have put out the last spark of hope and life by 
 unjust but reasonable suspicions," said Lilith, as if 
 she deeply felt the truth of every word she uttered. 
 
 "Who could suspect a baby?" said the lady, gently; 
 but nevertheless she inquired within herself: 
 
 "What can have happened to this girl? Has her 
 husband killed her father and been hanged for it? 
 Or vice versa, or what? There are so many homi- 
 cides and hangings in this vast country that no one 
 can keep trace of them all. Her words are very 
 enigmatical." 
 
 Something in the lady's looks might have betrayed 
 the drift of her thoughts, for Lilith, with a deepening 
 color and in a low voice, ventured to say: 
 
 "There is one circumstance that I ought to have 
 added to my statement, rnadame, and it is this: 
 There has been no dishonor connected with my mis- 
 fortunes, no dishonor of any one's. I have no way 
 of proving this, but oh! as I hope to be saved, I am 
 speaking the sacred truth!" she concluded, clasping 
 her hands in the earnestness of her asseveration. 
 
 "My child, I feel sure that you do," answered the 
 baroness, kindly; and then she changed the subject 
 by asking Lilith if she had ever been abroad, and if 
 she was a good sailor. 
 
 "No," Lilith answered. "My longest sea voyages 
 have been from Baltimore to New York and from 
 New York to Newport. But I am a very good sailor, 
 for I have been in more than one storm on Chesa- 
 peake Bay and have never been seasick." 
 
 "That is very well. I hope you will be able to 
 bear the unrest of Old Ocean as bravely," said the 
 baroness. 
 And then she told Lilith what her experience had
 
 LILITH 109 
 
 told her, the outfit necessary for the comfort of the 
 voyage, and the outfit that would be nothing but an 
 impediment. 
 
 And then, when an hour had passed, Lilith arose 
 to take leave. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin would not allow her to go, 
 but insisted that she should stay to luncheon, which 
 was served in madame's private apartments. 
 
 It was a tete-a-tete feast, and Lilith much enjoyed 
 the delicate fare set before her the well-dressed 
 game, the delicious salad, the dainty confectionery, 
 the luscious fruits, and the pure, light Chablis. 
 
 When the repast was finished and the service was 
 removed, the baroness went and took a guitar from 
 its place on a stand in the recess, and sat down to 
 play. She touched a few chords and then floated 
 into a mournful solo from "II Trovatore." Her voice 
 w r as a deep, rich, full contralto, but so profoundly 
 sad that Lilith felt her eyes fill with tears as she said 
 to herself: 
 
 "Ah, madame has also suffered. I know it." 
 The baroness finished her song and laid aside her 
 guitar without a word. 
 But presently she said : 
 
 "You love music, my dear? Bah! who does not?" 
 "I love music. That was a beautiful solo, madame, 
 only so sad!" 
 
 "Ah, my dear! But never mind. You have prom- 
 ised to tell me your story some day. I may tell you 
 mine before that. For in this case I feel towards you 
 somewhat like the ancient mariner to the wedding 
 guest." 
 
 "I shall be glad to hear, madame, very glad and 
 grateful for your confidence," said Lilith, as she once 
 more arose to take leave. 
 
 "Why is it that I feel as if you belonged to me,
 
 110 LILITH 
 
 dear?" said the baroness, as she took the girl in her 
 arms and kissed her. 
 
 "It is because you are so good to me, madame. 
 In an humble way, in my happy days at home, when- 
 ever I took any helpless creature under my care, I 
 always felt as if it belonged to me, whether it did or 
 not," said Lilith, simply. 
 
 "Come again to-morrow, my dear, if you can. If 
 not, come any day at this hour. I am always at home s 
 between twelve and two," said the baroness, as she 
 patted the cheek of her new favorite and let her go. 
 
 As before, the old Frenchman joined her in the 
 corridor and escorted her downstairs and out to the 
 sidewalk. 
 
 There she thanked and took leave of him. 
 
 Lilith walked home, where she arrived an hour 
 later than on the preceding day. 
 
 "You have made a long visit this morning, honey," 
 said Aunt Sophie, who met her in the parlor. 
 
 "Yes, the baroness detained me," answered Lilitte 
 
 "I am getting jealous of that there baroness. I 
 am so," said Aunt Sophie, half in jest, half in earnest. 
 "But take off your things right here and come down 
 to lunch. I have got such a beautiful cup of broma 
 for you." 
 
 "Thank you, dear Aunt Sophie. But I have had 
 lunch. The baroness made me stay for it, with her," 
 replied Lilith. 
 
 "Now I am jealous of that baroness downright 
 jealous, that I am," said Aunt Sophie, with such an 
 aggrieved look that Lilith embraced her, and privately 
 resolved never to be persuaded to stay to lunch with 
 Madame Von Bruyin so long as they should remain 
 in New York. 
 
 Lilith did not go to the baroness the next day, but 
 she went down on Broadway to purchase the neces- 
 saries for her sea voyage.
 
 LILITH 111 
 
 When she returned to her boarding-house a great 
 surprise awaited her. 
 
 Aunt Sophie met her at the door with a radiant, 
 beaming countenance, and asked, with a very mys- 
 terious air: 
 
 "Well, honey! Who do you think has come? And 
 is in the parlor waiting for you? You can't guess!" 
 
 Lilith's heart gave a great bound. For a moment 
 she could not move, and her swiftly changing color 
 and agitated features caused Aunt Sophie to laugh 
 softly, as she added: 
 
 "Why, it is Emily Ponsonby, of course. She has 
 just arrived from Boston, where she has been stay- 
 ing with her daughter ever since she left the city the 
 morning after she brought you here. She reached 
 the city last night, and is stopping with her other 
 daughter, Mrs. Saxony. And this morning she came 
 right down here to inquire after you. She came in 
 just about ten minutes after you had gone out. Now 
 come in and see her." 
 
 Aunt Sophie's long explanation had given Lilith 
 time to recover from her mingled feelings of sur- 
 prise, wild hope and disappointment. She quietly fol- 
 lowed Aunt Sophie into the front parlor, where the 
 ample form and rosy face of the good-hearted Bal- 
 timore lady met her view. 
 
 " Well, my dear, glad to see you again, and to hear 
 from your good friend, Sophie Downie here, such 
 splendid accounts of you," said Mrs. Ponsonby, rising 
 and embracing Lilith. 
 
 "Thank you, madam; but all my good fortune be- 
 gan with yourself. If you had not spoken to me on 
 the train and brought me to this house, I really dt 
 not know what would have become of me." 
 
 "Neither do I," replied Mrs. Ponsonby, quite 
 frankly. "It was the wildest freak I ever heard of 
 in all my life a young girl coming to a strange city
 
 LILITH 
 
 to seek her fortune! Ugh! It makes my very flesh 
 creep to think of it!" 
 
 "It was a forced measure, dear friend. I had no 
 choice. I was obliged to come," said Lilith, as she 
 took a seat on the sofa beside the matron. 
 
 "Well, I suppose you were obliged to come, and 
 so the Providence that takes care of the young ravens 
 took care of you. But I tell you what, my girl, if 
 you had come away from home from other impulse 
 than stern necessity you would have gone to the 
 deuce before this. It was an awful risk, my dear." 
 
 "I knew it was, but I could not help it," said Lilith, 
 meekly. 
 
 "And Sophie has been telling me that you have 
 just got a splendid situation with the Baroness Von 
 Bruyin." 
 
 "Yes, ma'am." 
 
 "Why, I knew her! I met her in Washington 
 when she was a Miss Von Kirschberg. I have not 
 seen her since she married the old banker, Mr. 
 Bruyin, who got himself made Baron Von Bruyin to 
 please his wife, and paid a good round sum to Em- 
 peror William for the honor, you may take my word 
 for it. Bosh! I like nobility when it is real, that is, 
 hereditary; but I should care no more for a pur- 
 chased title than I should for a paste 'diamond' or 
 an imitation 'India' shawl. And the poor old man 
 is dead, and dead, too, without an heir to perpetuate 
 his dearly bought title." 
 
 "What sort of a woman is the baroness, anyway, 
 to live with, do you think?" inquired Aunt Sophie, 
 in anxiety for the happiness of her protegee. 
 
 "I think she is just about as good a woman as one 
 could expect to find in an only child, a beauty and 
 heiress, who had been petted and pampered and flat- 
 tered and fairly idolized by everybody around her all
 
 LILITH 113 
 
 the days of Iier life," emphatically answered Mrs. Pon- 
 sonby. 
 
 "I am glad to hear it," answered Aunt Sophie. 
 
 "And I think you will just have a splendid time 
 with her, my dear. Why, you are really going to 
 travel all over Europe. My! don't I wish I was going 
 to Europe! But, there! what is the use of talking. 
 When Ponsonby and myself were young, with a family 
 of little ones around us, we promised ourselves just 
 as soon as we had raised and settled them all, we 
 would travel and see the world; but Lor'! before the 
 last of them were married the grandchildren of the 
 first wedded began to come on, and they are just as 
 strong fetters and as heavy iron balls to hinder our 
 travels as ever their mothers were. You are to be 
 envied, my dear, I can tell you that!" 
 
 "I am thankful," replied Lflith. "But why should 
 you have waited until your children grew up before 
 you could go to Europe? Why not have taken them 
 all with you?" 
 
 "Never saw the day when we could afford that, 
 my dear. But I will live in hopes to see the old 
 world some time or other before I die. Well, dear, 
 I only called to inquire after you, and to see whether 
 Sophie Downie had done a good part by you " 
 
 "She is the best friend I have in this world!" has- 
 tily and warmly interrupted Lilith "except your- 
 self, Mrs. Ponsonby," she added, on reflection. 
 
 "And I don't doubt that Madame Von Bruyin will 
 be a much more valuable friend than either of us," 
 said Mrs. Ponsonby. 
 
 "Xo! no!" exclaimed Lilith. 
 
 "Well, at least I hope for your sake she may be. 
 You cannot have too many or too good friends. Well, 
 I must go, or I shall be late for lunch. I shall fetch 
 Polly Saxony to call on you; and then we must have 
 you to come and spend a day with us before you sail,"
 
 LILITH 
 
 said the Baltimore lady, as she arose, kissed Lilith 
 good-bye, and left the drawing-room, followed by 
 Aunt Sophie, with whom she chattered all the way 
 out, and lingered to chat in the hall, and still loitered 
 to chat on the stoop outside. 
 
 At length she was gone, and Aunt Sophie returned 
 to the pa'rlor. 
 
 ''Wasn't that a surprise?" inquired Aunt Sophie, 
 gleefully, as she re-entered the room. 
 
 "Yes; quite a surprise/' assented Lilith. 
 
 "And now I have got another for you: John Moore 
 has gone off to be married. The wedding is to be 
 to-morrow, at the bride's mother's house, in Spring- 
 field. And he is to bring his wife home on Saturday, 
 and take her straight to the parsonage, which is all 
 ready. And I have fixed up his room for you. You 
 can have it at once. Ah! if you were only going to 
 stay I could make you so comfortable!" said Aunt 
 Sophie, with a deep sigh. 
 
 "Dear friend, I would like to stay with you, but 
 you know that I cannot; I must take the employment 
 that is offered me," gently replied Lilith. 
 
 "Yes, I know. Some of these days you will come 
 back, though, and I hope I shall live to see you, and 
 if so, you must come straight home to me, dear, do 
 you hear?" 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Sophie; and I certainly will come to 
 you first of all, if we both live," said Lilith. 
 
 And then the entrance of other persons ended their 
 tete-a-tete. 
 
 The next day Lilith went to see the baroness, and 
 was received with even more kindness than on the 
 former occasions. But she declined an invitation to 
 stay to lunch. 
 
 When she returned home Aunt Sophie met her with 
 a smile, and put two cards in her hands, saying: 
 
 "They called while you were out, my dear, but they
 
 LILITH 115 
 
 didn't stay long. And they left an invitation for you 
 and me to go and spend the day with them to-morrow." 
 
 Lilith looked at the cards, which bore the names 
 of MRS. JOHN PONSONBY and of MRS. THEOBALD E. B. 
 SAXONY. 
 
 "I think I'll go with you, my dear; I have not had 
 a day out so long. I know Mary Farquier will look 
 after the house for me one day." 
 
 And so Aunt Sophie and her protegee accepted 
 this invitation; and the next morning, at a most un- 
 fashionably early hour, they presented themselves at 
 the Saxony mansion, where they were very kindly re- 
 received and hospitably entertained by the mother and 
 daughter. 
 
 They met none of Mrs. Saxony's fashionable friends. 
 It was not that lady's receiving day; so she was "not 
 at home" to all casual callers, and she devoted her- 
 self to her mother's simple friends. 
 
 Aunt Sophie and Lilith returned in the evening, 
 well pleased with their visit. 
 
 The next day the old lady invited Lilith to accom- 
 pany her to the parsonage, where she and all her 
 "family" were going, with many of the church people, 
 to receive the young minister and his bride. 
 
 Lilith went, for she had resolved to give herself 
 up to please Aunt Sophie for the short remainder of 
 her stay with the affectionate woman. 
 
 They found the parsonage a very attractive home 
 for the newly married pair. The house, which stood 
 beside the church, had been newly papered and 
 painted, and refurnished from top to bottom, and 
 prettily decorated for the occasion. The church 
 people had vied with each other in the choice of their 
 wedding presents, which were tastefully displayed on 
 the drawing-room tables. 
 
 The refreshments were laid out on the extension 
 table in the dining-room at the rear.
 
 116 LILITH 
 
 The house was full, but not crowded, because the 
 people dispersed themselves through all the apart- 
 ments. 
 
 Aunt Sophie only waited long enough to welcome 
 the young minister and his bride, to wish them all 
 happiness, and to show them into their chamber, 
 where they might change their traveling suits for fes- 
 tive dresses before going down into the drawing-room 
 to meet their friends, and then she took leave. 
 
 She would have persuaded Lilith to stay with the 
 company, but the latter insisted on going with her 
 friend. 
 
 "You know I ain't young, honey, and gay and fes- 
 tive scenes don't suit me," she said, apologetically. 
 
 "And as for me, I wish to go with you, and to be 
 with you as much as I can while I remain in the 
 country," Lilith answered, affectionately. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 IN HER TRUE COLORS 
 
 MADAME VON BRUYIN grew very fond of Lilith and 
 would have had her new favorite with her every day, 
 or even had her to come and live at the hotel. 
 
 But Lilith pleaded that she wished to stay with her 
 kind landlady as much as possible during the short 
 interval that would intervene before their sailing 
 for Europe. 
 
 The baroness admitted the excuse and did not in- 
 sist on Lilith's entering upon her duties of companion- 
 ship before the stipulated time June 1st. 
 
 But whenever Aunt Sophie was out on business, or 
 very much occupied with her household duties, Lilith 
 would slip away to pay a flying visit to the baroness,
 
 LILITH 117 
 
 to whom she was now, at all hours, a most welcome 
 guest. 
 
 One evening it happened that Aunt Sophie had gone 
 to a protracted meeting at her church, and Lilith 
 availed herself of that opportunity to go and see the 
 baroness. 
 
 It was the first occasion on which she had ever 
 ventured to call on that lady in the evening. 
 
 She found Madame Von Bruyiu alone in her apart- 
 ments, more lonely and depressed than usual, and 
 more than ever pleased to see her unexpected but 
 most welcome visitor. 
 
 She received Lilith with a warm embrace, and made 
 her lay aside her bonnet and mantle, and sit down in 
 the most comfortable chair in that luxurious room. 
 
 The gas had been turned down low, so that the 
 whole room was in a subdued cathedral light very 
 favorable for meditation or for confidential conver- 
 sation. 
 
 How it was that Madame Von Bruyin glided into 
 speaking of her own life neither she nor her com- 
 panion ever knew. 
 
 It was in answer to some remark of Lilith's, how- 
 ever, that the baroness answered: 
 
 "Yes, I know. Of course there are many people 
 who envy me, and I suppose that I may be considered 
 in a very enviable position; but that is only the ex- 
 ternal view. Within myself I am not enviable. There 
 are few women in this world less happy than I am." 
 
 "I am very sorry," said Lilith, in true sympathy. 
 But she was much too modest to preach to this great 
 lady, this spoiled beauty, and to tell her of the vast 
 power her wealth furnished of doing good and find- 
 ing her happiness in the happiness of others. 
 
 "Child!" continued the baroness, "the truth is 
 that I do not know what to do with my life. If I 
 were not in deep mourning I should take a plunge into
 
 118 LILITH 
 
 society and in its maddest excitements forget myself. 
 But as I cannot do that, I go to Europe, to make a 
 tour of the continent. But I ask myself, to what pur- 
 pose? I have seen it all before. It will have no 
 novelty for me." 
 
 "Not the beaten track the great cities, the great 
 centres of art, science and learning, the monuments 
 of antiquity you have seen all those; not the high- 
 ways of travel, but the by-ways, madame the remote 
 villages, the country people of each country. It seems 
 to me that these also might be very interesting," Lilith 
 modestly suggested. 
 
 "Possibly," wearily replied the lady; "but nothing 
 interests me, child except yourself nothing. With 
 every appliance of material good with youth and 
 health and wealth I have no interest in life, no en- 
 joyment of anything." 
 
 "Oh, madame! what has brought you into such a 
 state as this?" exclaimed Lilith, speaking from the 
 irrepressible impulse of her great sympathy, and then 
 stopping short and blushing at the thought of hav- 
 ing asked the baroness an impertinent question. 
 
 But Madame Von Bruyin did not seem to perceive 
 any impropriety in Lilith's words. She felt only their 
 deep sympathy. 
 
 "I must tell you something about myself and my 
 spoiled life, and then you will understand. Come 
 
 .nearer to me, child." 
 I 
 
 Lilith left her easy-chair, drew a hassock after her, 
 and sat down on it at the feet of the baroness. 
 
 The lady bent her stately head until the golden 
 tresses touched the ebon ringlets of the girl. And 
 after this caress she laid her hand on Lilith's head 
 and whispered: 
 
 "I have been so wilful all my life. I can never 
 remember the time when my will was crossed until
 
 LILITH 119 
 
 about six months ago. How full the last six months 
 have been of changes for me!" 
 
 The lady paused thoughtfully. Lilith might have 
 added: "And for me!" but she did not. The baroness 
 continued: 
 
 "I am an American, my dear, as you might know 
 by my speech; and I was born and married in America, 
 though my father and my husband were both sub- 
 jects of the Emperor William. I was the only child 
 of my widowed father, who had married very late 
 in life and who lost his wife in the same hour that 
 gave him his child. He never married a second time, 
 but devoted himself to me. In time I became the idol 
 of my father and of his dearest friend and insepar- 
 able companion, Mr. Nicholas Bruyin who became 
 Baron Von Bruyin later, you understand." 
 
 "Yes, madame," said Lilith. 
 
 "I was never sent to school, but had teachers at 
 home, who taught me no more than I chose to learn; 
 masters and governesses who never mastered or gov- 
 erned me, but who had to submit to my will or leave 
 my service. And in all my self-will I was upheld by 
 the two fondly doting old gentlemen who held my 
 destiny in their hands. I learned music and danc- 
 ing because I liked to do so; but I do not think I 
 should have learned anything else if it had not been 
 for the advent of Monsieur le Professeur Le Grange, 
 my present private secretary, whom you have seen." 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 "He was engaged to teach me languages when I 
 was about thirteen years old, and more ignorant 
 than any girl of my own age and rank. Well, Pro- 
 fesseur Le Grange certainly found out the road to 
 my conscience and affections, convinced me of my piti- 
 able ignorance and became my teacher not only of 
 languages, but of science, history and general litera- 
 ture. I became very appreciative of his character
 
 120 LILITH 
 
 and abilities, and tried to profit by them. I think I 
 have shown my gratitude for his services by attach- 
 ing him to my household. He will never leave." 
 
 "He seems sincerely devoted to you, madame," said 
 Lilith. 
 
 "I think he is. There are spiritual fathers in the 
 church. Professeur Le Grange may be called my 
 intellectual father. When I was but fifteen years of 
 age I went to Europe with these three old men my 
 father, my friend and my teacher, and with no female 
 companion except my old nurse and my maid. You 
 have never seen those two faithful women, dear?" 
 
 "No, madame." 
 
 "Yet they are still in my service. We made an 
 unusually extensive tour of Europe, and the profes- 
 sor, who, in addition to his other acquirements, was 
 a learned archaeologist and antiquarian, was my most 
 valuable guide and mentor. Perhaps I derived more 
 benefit than most persons from my travels. If so, 
 I owe that benefit to the professor. He is to go with 
 us when we sail, as I suppose you know." 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 "We returned at the end of three years, and I was, 
 soon after our arrival, introduced into society. Two 
 years of fashionable seasons, in the winter spent in 
 New York or Washington, in the summer at New- 
 port or at some other fashionable resort. I was 
 nineteen years old when my father was attacked by 
 what he believed to be a temporary though very 
 sharp illness. But the physician who was called in 
 warned him of its real significance. Then my father 
 grew anxious to settle up all his worldly affairs, and 
 very anxious to see me married. I know not how it 
 happened, or who first suggested the plan whether 
 it was my father or Mr. Brtiyin but the issue was 
 that I became the betrothed bride of Nicholas Bruyin 
 before I knew that I had a heart in my bosom. Mr.
 
 LILITH 121 
 
 Bruyin, though older than my father, was really a 
 healthier and a stronger man, with the promise of a 
 longer life. This betrothal took place just before I 
 went to Washington last summer. Ah! if it had been 
 delayed but a few weeks longer what a difference it 
 would have made in my life; for there, in the begin- 
 ning of that season in Washington, I was destined to 
 meet the only man whom I could ever love; a man 
 of whom you have probably heard, for his fame has 
 gone abroad all over the country, the brilliant orator 
 and rising statesman, Tudor Hereward." 
 
 Lilith uttered a low cry, so low that it escaped the 
 notice of Madame Von Bruyin, who continued: 
 
 "I became so much interested in this gentleman 
 that, unconscious of the danger into which I was run- 
 ning, I allowed myself to enjoy the heaven of his so- 
 ciety and conversation, for it was heaven to me. One 
 night it was at the masquerade ball given by Senator 
 
 and Mrs. S , at their splendid mansion, on New 
 
 Year's Eve Mr. Hereward sought me out and pro- 
 posed for my hand. Oh! not until that hour did I 
 realize how much I loved him. But I had to explain 
 that a betrothal scarcely less sacred than marriage 
 bound me to Mr. Bruyin. He, my lover, Tudor Here- 
 ward, bitterly, bitterly reproached me for misleading 
 him, and triffling with his affections. And we parted 
 in wrath." 
 
 The baroness bowed her face on Lilith's curly black 
 head and wept. The girl, unable to trust her voice 
 to speak, took one of the lady's hands and fondled 
 and kissed it in sympathy. The baroness recovered 
 her self possession, and continued: 
 
 "The next day I missed Hereward from all his usual 
 places. And before the night came, my betrothed 
 arrived from New York. He was shocked to see how 
 changed I was. Child, it was my first sorrow, and 
 I had no power to conceal it. The good old man,
 
 122 LILITH 
 
 who loved me with a totally unselfish love, won my 
 secret from me, at once released me from my engage- 
 ment and left me free to marry the lover of my 
 choice. Then I watched for Hereward's return, and 
 when he arrived child, I went to him, I humbled 
 myself before him; I told him that I was free, and 
 I offered him my hand. He replied in icy tones that 
 he was married. Yes, married, within two days after 
 having been rejected by me. He had married a young 
 girl, a child who knew no better than to take a man 
 at a moment's notice. The news was a thunderbolt 
 to me; yet even through that nervous shock how I 
 pitied that young wife." 
 
 "Oh, Heaven, yes. How much she was to be pitied!" 
 cried Lilith, in a tone of sharp pain. 
 
 "As for my miserable self, the kind guardian of 
 my peace and welfare saw that there had been no 
 happy meeting between me and my lover. Again he 
 won ray secret from me. This time it was the secret 
 of my disappointment and humiliation. Then tak- 
 ing my hand, he said to me: 
 
 " 'My dear, the world knows nothing of this. The 
 world still believes us to be a betrothed pair. Let 
 things go on as they were arranged. You know me. 
 We will be married at the time appointed. I will 
 then take you abroad to the court of Berlin. Your 
 dear father will go with us for his health. You are 
 so young yet that you will outlive and forget this 
 trouble.' " 
 
 "Well, I consented. I was so confused and de-' 
 pressed between grief and mortification, that I was 
 easily led. Only a few days later we were married 
 in the cathedral in this city, and sailed in the Kaiser 
 Wilhelm for Germany. We had planned out a very 
 fine tour. But ah! while we were still at the court 
 of Berlin, and only a few days after Mr. Bruyin had 
 received his patent of nobility and become the Baron
 
 LILITH 123 
 
 Von Bruyin, he had a stroke of apoplexy that ter- 
 minated his earthly existence. We laid him in the 
 cemetery of the city that he loved so well, and then 
 set out to return home. My father never reached these 
 shores alive. His mortal remains repose in Wood- 
 lawn. There, my child, I have unburdened my mind 
 to you." 
 
 THK FAIR RIVALS 
 
 How am I changed? My hopes were once like fire; 
 
 1 loved and I believed that life was love. 
 How am I lost? How high did I aspire! 
 
 Above heaven's winds, my spirit once did move 
 All nature by my heart and mind, to make 
 
 A paradise or earth, for one dear sake. 
 I love but I believe in love no more. 
 
 I still aspire but hope not. And from sleep, 
 All vainly must my weary brain implore 
 
 Its long lost flattery now. I wake to weep, 
 And sit through the long day, gnawing the core 
 
 Of my bitter heart, and like a miser keep 
 Since none in what I feel take thought or pleasure 
 To my own soul its self-consuming treasure. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 AND thus Leda, Baroness Von Bruyin, had told her 
 heart's history to Tudor Hereward's young wife. 
 
 No words can describe its effect on Lilith. 
 
 She sat in the "gloaming," silent and motionless, 
 her still, white face invisible to the lady, who, after 
 finishing her story, fell into thought, seeming to brood 
 over the past.
 
 124 LILITH 
 
 This, then mused Lilith this peerless, regal 
 beauty was the Miss Von Kirschberg, the woman 
 whom Tudor Hereward had passionately loved, and 
 by whom he had been cast off, only on the evening 
 before he had married her Lilith to please his dying 
 father, and to be revenged upon his false love! Oh! 
 the bitter wrong! the bitter, bitter dishonor of the 
 wrong! 
 
 Lilith pressed her hands upon her white face, in 
 an anguish too deep for tears. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin saw nothing of that in the 
 gloaming. Presently she spoke again: 
 
 "Strange strange; but since Herr Von Bruyin 
 passed away I seem to understand his character better 
 than I ever did before! More than ever before I 
 seem to feel the pure, tender, unselfish love he 
 lavished upon me, from my earliest infancy, even until 
 the day of his death 'until the day of his death?' 
 What am I saying? Uttering hastily, and with 
 parrot-like repetition, false, unmeaning words for 
 there is no death and no limit to love like his. From 
 his home above, he loves me still. And, perhaps, 
 when I, too, shall reach that bright world in which 
 there is no winter and no age, I shall find no dis- 
 parity between us; but shall see and love him even 
 as he sees and loves me! And that shall be my com- 
 fort and his reward." 
 
 The baroness spoke tenderly, meditatively, with 
 her beautiful head bowed upon her hand, and her fair 
 hair, escaped from the widow's cap, flowing down over 
 her black-robed shoulders. 
 
 Lilith uttered not a word, but she thought: 
 
 "This is the woman whom Tudor Hereward de- 
 nounced as vain, self-seeking, doable-dealing; false to 
 him, false to herself, false to her betrothed, and all 
 because, to keep her plighted faith, she had rejected 
 him."
 
 LILITH 125 
 
 And Lilith, through all her own deep pain, felt 
 a tender sympathy with the desolate heart of her 
 rival. 
 
 At length the baroness spoke again: 
 
 "You are very silent, petite. Of what are you think- 
 ing?" she softly inquired. 
 
 "Of the story you have told me, madame," gently 
 replied Lilith. 
 
 "And what about it, dear?" 
 
 "It is very sorrowful. You are not happy, madame; 
 and perhaps you never can be, unless, unless 
 by 
 
 "By what, my child?" 
 
 "By making others happy. You have such great 
 power of doing good, dear lady!" earnestly replied 
 Lilith. 
 
 "What good can I do? I seem of no use in the 
 world!" sighed the baroness. 
 
 "By your great wealth, madame," modestly sug- 
 gested Lilith. 
 
 "Oh, of course, I subscribe to all worthy charities 
 that are brought to my notice. Le Grange attends 
 to all that! That is, of course, my bounden duly, 
 and I try to do it," said the baroness. 
 
 "Yes, I know you are very liberal and very con- 
 scientious, but " 
 
 "But what, my dear?" 
 
 "There are so many, many cases of great poverty, 
 sickness and suffering outside of these organized 
 charities! Aged, or ill, men and women, and little 
 children, suffering in extremity for want of the barest 
 necessaries of life, helpless and dying for lack of 
 help, even in the midst of all these organized charities! 
 These do a vast deal of good, but they cannot do 
 everything! They cannot reach all the suffering!" 
 
 "How do you know?" inquired the lady. 
 
 "I know from what I see, and hear, and observe
 
 123 LILITH 
 
 in the streets, and from what I learn when I go into 
 the poorest tenement houses with Aunt Sophie." 
 
 "Aunt Sophie? Who is she, child?" 
 
 "Mrs. Downie. My good landlady. She is a Metho- 
 dist minister's widow. She keeps a plain boarding- 
 house, mostly for young ministers and teachers. 
 She is very poor, but very charitable, and when she 
 sees a poor, pale, ragged child on the streets trying 
 to make a few pennies by selling matches or pins, 
 she often takes such a child to its own home to see 
 for herself into its circumstances and find out how 
 she can permanently benefit it. She has adopted and 
 brought up several of these forlorn children, and 
 settled them respectably in life. She has always one 
 or two on hand. She has one even now. Oh! if I had 
 only plenty of money I would found a home for des- 
 titute children. I would set Aunt Sophie at its head 
 with the carte blanche to take in all the needy chil- 
 dren that the home could hold." 
 
 "But there are so many of these asylums, my dear." 
 
 "I know; but there are not enough, else why these 
 poor, little, homeless and friendless ones in the 
 street?" 
 
 "Well, petite, I do not feel just yet quite inspired 
 to found such an institution, but, before we sail, I 
 will place in your good Aunt Sophie's hands a sum 
 of money to aid her charitable work among the friend- 
 less children of the street," said the baroness. 
 
 "Will you? Oh, will you, indeed? If you do, you 
 will make a good heart so glad!" exclaimed Lilith, 
 with a benminnr face. 
 
 "I will, indeed! I will send L Grange to the honse 
 with the chock to-morrow," s^id th lady. 
 
 "Oh! give it with your own hand, dear madamo, 
 and you will see what joy you will bring into the dear 
 woman's face."
 
 LILITH 127 
 
 "I hear what joy I bring into your voice, little one, 
 and I am glad to hear it," replied the baroness. 
 
 In her deep interest in the subject under discus- 
 sion, Lilith had for the moment forgotten her own 
 griefs. 
 
 Even Madame Von Bruyin seemed in better spirits 
 as she said, cheerfully: 
 
 "We must have lights now, dear." 
 
 She touched the silver timbre on the stand beside 
 her. 
 
 An attendant came in and lighted the gas and re- 
 tired. 
 
 Lilith arose from her low position on the hassock 
 at the lady's feet. 
 
 The baroness also stood up, and drawing her com- 
 panion's arm within her own, walked up and down the 
 splendid, illuminated room in silence. 
 
 It happened that at each end of this room there 
 was a broad and tall mirror that reached from floor 
 to ceiling and reflected the two figures from head to 
 foot the grand beauty of the Baroness Von Bruyin 
 and the petite grace of Lilith. 
 
 The young wife marked the contrast with a sink- 
 ing and despairing heart. In her admiration she 
 greatly exaggerated the power of her rival's queenly 
 charms, and in her humility as much underrated the 
 effects of her own sweet loveliness. 
 
 "Ah!" she sighed, from the depths of her despond- 
 ing spirit. "No wonder he worships this lady, for 
 she is the crowned queen of beauty! No wonder he 
 could not love me, for who am I beside her? No 
 more than a little yellow duckling beside a royal 
 white swan! No! I cannot blame him for adoring 
 her and not liking me. But oh! he might have let me 
 alone. He ought not to have married me so lightly 
 and cast me off so easily because J was a duckling 
 and not a swan. Now I remember that he never said
 
 128 LILITH 
 
 he loved me. He never professed what he never felt 
 for me. -And I was so blind I never missed that. 
 Because he asked me to be his wife, I truly thought 
 he loved me, and I did so joyfully consent letting 
 him see how happy and how glad I was of the Monor 
 he had done me, the delight he had given me. Oh, 
 the sin of it! Oh, the shame of it! Oh, my angel 
 mother in heaven, if you had been on earth you 
 would never have let your child fall into such a trap. 
 You would have taught her; you would have warned 
 her. Oh, he ought to have been generous; he ought 
 to have remembered that I had no mother; he ought 
 to have let me alone!" 
 
 "What is the matter with you, dear child?" in- 
 quired the baroness, breaking in upon Lilith's grievous 
 reverie. "You are so absorbed and distressed that 
 you must be in some great trouble, either for your- 
 self or for some one else. Can I do anything for 
 you?" 
 
 "No, dear madame; nothing. My passing mood was 
 not worth your attention. A vain regret given to 
 lost treasures, or perhaps only to imaginary treasures 
 that I never really possessed. I will try to overcome 
 my tendency to fall into these moods," answered 
 Lilith, with an effort to collect herself. 
 
 "Some day, my dear, you will tell me of your past 
 life a short story, it must be as frankly as I have 
 told you of mine. I will wait patiently until then. 
 But, little one, we have talked and mused, and mused 
 and talked, until the hours have slipped by us un- 
 heeded, and now it is so late that you must either 
 stay all night, or allow me to send for a carriage at 
 once to take you home." 
 
 "Oh, thank you, madame. I must go home. Late 
 as it is, Aunt Sophie will expect me," said Lilith. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin touched the timbre, and
 
 LILITH 129 
 
 ordered the attendant who answered the summons to 
 procure a carriage. 
 
 While Lilith was putting on her hat and gloves 
 the baroness said: 
 
 " You may tell this dear Aunt Sophie of the power 
 I intend to place in her hands to help the poor little 
 children." 
 
 "Oh, dear madame, how good you are! But I would 
 rather not tell her. I would rather you should do 
 so first, for the sake of seeing the happy surprise that 
 will light up her face," said Lilith. 
 
 "Very well, then. You may expect me to-morrow 
 morning at the house," said the baroness. 
 
 The attendant entered the room and announced the 
 carriage. 
 
 "Ask Monsieur Le Grange to be good enough to 
 step here," said the baroness. 
 
 The man bowed and withdrew. 
 
 "Monsieur," said the baroness, when the old secre- 
 tary made his appearance and respectfully saluted 
 the company, "will you do me the favor to see Mrs. 
 Wyvil home? The carriage waits." 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure, madame," answered 
 the old gentleman, with his habitual deep bow, as 
 he gallantly offered his arm to the young lady to lead 
 her from the room. 
 
 The baroness drew Lilith up and kissed her cheek 
 before giving her into the care of the polite old sec- 
 retary, who took her in charge, and bowed himself 
 out of his lady's presence. 
 
 He led Lilith down the stairs, placed her in the 
 carriage, took his seat by her side, and directed the 
 coachman to drive to Mrs. Downie's, number so and 
 so, such a street. 
 
 It was so late when they reached their destination 
 that all the lights were out in the house, except those 
 of the front parlor.
 
 130 LILITH 
 
 The old Frenchman left the carriage, helped Lilith 
 to alight, and led her up to the door. Nor did he 
 leave her until his ring was answered and an old 
 lady appeared to receive the returning guest. 
 
 Then he bowed himself down the steps to the car- 
 riage and drove off. 
 
 "Oh, my dear, I was that uneasy about you; I was 
 thinking of starting out to the hotel to inquire after 
 you," said Aunt Sophie, as she went into the front 
 parlor to turn off the gas. 
 
 "Why should you have been uneasy? What harm 
 could have happened to me even if I had started to 
 come home alone through the streets of a crowded 
 city?" inquired Lilith, as they went upstairs together. 
 
 "What harm? Oh, child, you read the papers, and 
 see how busy the devil is and how artful his chil- 
 dren are. Every once in a while you see an account 
 of some child or young girl kidnapped and made away 
 with, and I suppose as there's many and many a 
 case that never even gets into the newspapers." 
 
 "I am sorry to hear that, Aunt Sophie; but there 
 was no danger in my case, for madame sent me home 
 in a carriage, under the care of her aged secretary." 
 
 "So I saw. So I saw. And she was in the right 
 of it. Well, my dear, it is after one o'clock, and I 
 think we had better get to bed as soon as we can," 
 said the old lady, as they entered the double-bedded 
 chamber, which they still occupied together. 
 
 The room vacated by the minister having been taken 
 by the organist. 
 
 Early the next morning, as Aunt Sophie, having 
 got through with fhe breakfast, was preparing to go 
 to market, Lilith said to her: 
 
 "I cannot walk out with you to-day, dear. I am 
 expecting the Baroness Von Bruyin, and as I do not 
 know at what hour she may find it convenient to 
 call, I must stay in until she does."
 
 LILITH 131 
 
 "I am awful jealous of that baroness," said the 
 little old lady, in a pathetic tone, shaking her little 
 rumpled gray head. 
 
 "You need not be. There is no woman in the world 
 I love half so much as I do you, dear Aunt Sophie," 
 said Lilith. 
 
 "Well, then, why won't you live long of me always 
 and be my child, instead of going off to foreign parts 
 with that baroness?" 
 
 "Because it would not be right, dear Aunt Sophie." 
 
 "Eh, dear, it's a tiresome world. What's that 
 baroness coming here for to-day?" 
 
 "To call on me, and I think she wishes to see you, 
 too, so I shall keep her till you come back from 
 market." 
 
 "No, you needn't! I don't want to see that bar- 
 oness! That I don't," said Aunt Sophie, as she tied 
 on her little mashed black silk bonnet, which, like 
 her rumpled fine gray hair, and little baby face, was 
 a part of her gentle personality. 
 
 "But I want you to see her, Aunt Sophie. I think 
 you'd get over your prejudice against her." 
 
 "No, I shouldn't! I'm jealous of her. That's where 
 it is. I'm awful jealous of her, that I am! But I'll 
 hurry back from market to see her if you want me 
 to. And if I have to do that I must hurry away 
 now." 
 
 And the dear little woman folded her rusty Can- 
 ton crape shawl across her bosom and left the room. 
 
 Lilith set the bed-chamber in order and then went 
 down to the front parlor to await the coming of 
 Madame Von Bruyin. 
 
 But it was twelve o'clock before the baroness ar- 
 rived. Aunt Sophie had come home from market and 
 "fixed herself up" to receive the great lady, by put- 
 ting on her Sunday gown, a thin, rusty black silk, 
 and tying a bobinet fichu crookedly around her neck,
 
 132 LILITH 
 
 but she could not sit in state to receive her visitor. 
 She was too busy overseeing the cook get dinner for 
 the boarders. 
 
 "Besides, what does she want to see me for, I would 
 like to know?" she asked herself. 
 
 So she was shelling peas in the kitchen when word 
 was brought to her that there was a lady in the parlor 
 waiting to see her. 
 
 She put the pan of peas on the table, took off her 
 "check" apron, shook down her dress and went up- 
 stairs to see the visitor. 
 
 She found a tall, beautiful woman, dressed in deep 
 mourning, the black crape vail thrown back, reveal- 
 ing a fair face, with delicately blooming cheeks, 
 large, soft, violet eyes, and rippling golden hair, just 
 visible under the borders of her widow's cap. 
 
 Gentle Aunt Sophie was won, despite herself, 
 by the sweet, pensive smile with which the lady re- 
 ceived her own rather cold greeting, when Lilith had 
 introduced the parties to each other. 
 
 After some little preliminary conversation about 
 the early setting in of summer; the unusual warmth 
 of the weather for only the last week in May; the 
 prospective sea-voyage in June, and the probability 
 of fair winds and good weather, the main object of 
 Madame Von Bruyin's visit was artfully introduced. 
 
 It required some tact on the part of the baroness 
 and her young companion to deal with a woman as 
 shy, jealous and peculiar as the minister's widow, 
 under such circumstances as these. 
 
 But when Madame Von Bruyio briefly explained 
 that the news of Mrs. Downie's mission among the 
 street children had awakened her own interest to a 
 very great extent, and had inspired her with a wish to 
 serve them which, owing to her swiftly approach- 
 ing embarkation to Europe, she could not personally 
 carry out and when she begged as a great personal
 
 LILITH 133 
 
 favor that Mrs. Downie would act as her almoner, 
 with carte blanche to use the donation according to 
 discretion, and ended by placing a check for a 
 thousand dollars in Aunt Sophie's hands 
 
 Well, she, good soul, did not utter one word of 
 thanks! 
 
 But her whole form vibrated and her face beamed 
 with joy and thankfulness. Tears of joy filled her 
 eyes as she faltered, almost inarticulately: 
 
 "Oh! how much good you will do with all this, 
 madame! How much good you w r ill do!" 
 
 "If so, it will be through your hands, dear friend," 
 replied the baroness, rising to take leave. 
 
 Mrs. Downie, with the most old-fashioned, time-out- 
 of-mind hospitality, would have pressed her to stay 
 to dinner, to stay to tea, to spend the whole eve- 
 ning, but the baroness smiled, pleaded a pressure of 
 engagements, and departed. 
 
 "She's good! she's mighty good. But, oh! what 
 a sinner I am. For I'm so awful jealous of her, all 
 the same. But I can't help it, and it's all because 
 of you, honey," said Aunt Sophie, as soon as she was 
 left alone with Lilith. "I must get the brethren to 
 pray for me," she added. 
 
 From that memorable evening on which Madame 
 Von Bruyin had told her own heart history to Lilith 
 Here ward, the two friends were drawn closer together 
 in sympathy and affection. 
 
 It was strange that Hereward's young wife, though 
 she admired her husband's first love so excessively, 
 and underrated her own self so humbly, yet felt no 
 great jealousy of her rival. 
 
 Perhaps it was because Tudor himself had been 
 the first to tell her of that first love, that mad though 
 "brief infatuation," as he had called it; and because, 
 on referring to its object, he had spoken of her only 
 in terms of contempt and displeasure; so, at any rate,
 
 134 LILITH 
 
 for this cause or for that, Lilith, on cool reflection, 
 saw no cause to be jealous of her beautiful rival. 
 She felt even some compassion for her, as for a fel- 
 low-sufferer from Hereward's great injustice for had 
 not Hereward denounced her as a false woman, a self- 
 seeker, a double-dealer, a coquette, a traitress, a jilt? 
 And all because Leda Von Kirschberg, after having 
 promised her hand, discovered that she had a heart, 
 and tried to do her duty between the two! 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 NATIVE LAND ADIEU 
 
 As THE day of sailing drew near, Lilith's heart sank 
 into utter despondency. 
 
 Tp to this time she had been almost unconsciously 
 sustained by the recognized uncertainty of human 
 affairs; by the deep-seated hope that "something 
 might happen" to delay the voyage, or perhaps to put 
 it off altogether. 
 
 She watched the newspapers for news of Here- 
 ward; but she found none. She knew that Congress 
 was still in session in Washington, and she read all 
 the Congressional reports in the hope of finding his 
 name; but it was not there; not in any debate; not 
 in any speech; not even in the mere rank and file 
 of the yeas and nays when a vote was taken. It 
 seemed to have dropped quite out of public affairs. 
 What had become of that once shining beacon of 
 liberty and light? 
 
 Lilith could not even conjecture. 
 
 She diligently searched the personal column of the 
 Pursuivant; but no carefully worded appeal came to 
 her.
 
 LILITH 135 
 
 Lilith could not understand this utter silence, even 
 from Ancillon, who had himself fixed in this column 
 as the medium of their intercommunication. 
 
 Ah! but Lilith did not know that a coroner's jury 
 had pronounced her dead and come to her death 
 "from a fatal blow on the back of her head, inflicted 
 by a blunt instrument held in the hands of some per- 
 son unknown," and that she had been given up, if not 
 forgotten, by all her friends. 
 
 So Lilith looked through the papers day by day, 
 "hoping against hope" for some sign from her silent 
 husband. 
 
 "He knows that I cannot make any," she said, 
 despairingly, to herself. "He knows that he dis- 
 carded me, and drove me from his home with insult 
 and contumely. He knows that in my farewell letter 
 to him I wrote that if ever he should review his 
 course towards me, retract his charges against me, 
 and permit me to return, I would go to him, and 
 be to him all that I have been wife, housekeeper, 
 secretary, guardian of his home, and helper in his 
 office. Yes, I would, for although he does not love 
 me, oh! my Heavenly Father, I do love him, and I 
 cannot help it! Oh! if I could but return to him! 
 But he does not want me. He will not have me. If 
 I had stayed at Cloud Cliffs he would have gone 
 away never to return while I 'desecrated the house' 
 with my presence! He told me so! And oh! oh! 
 the scorn and hatred of his looks when he spoke 
 those words! No! he will never relent. He will never 
 retract. He will never permit me to return never 
 in this world. It is no use to hope. Nothing is going 
 to happen to bring us together. Nothing ever happens 
 that one either hopes or fears. A poor wretch con- 
 demned to death hopes something may happen to save 
 him; but it does not, and he dies. A happy girl look- 
 ing forward to her bridal, fears something may hap-
 
 136 LILITH 
 
 pen to stop it; but it does Dot, and she marries. And 
 oh! ray Father, I still keep on hoping against hope; 
 looking against a possibility for something to happen 
 to open my husband's eyes to show him how cruelly 
 he has wronged me, to bring him to my side. Hoping 
 and expecting with idiotic persistency. Yet I know 
 that nothing will happen. I must 'dree my weird,' 
 as the Scotch say." 
 
 All this time Aunt Sophie watched her favorite 
 with a troubled face, and often with tearful eyes. 
 At last one day she said: 
 
 "There's something on your mind, dear, that you 
 never let on to any one about. What is it, dear?" 
 
 "It is nothing but vain regrets for all that I have 
 lost, Aunt Sophie, and foolish, mad longings to recover 
 the irrecoverable," replied Lilith. 
 
 The gentle old lady did not quite comprehend her; 
 but she said: 
 
 "I don't believe as you want to go on this voyage, 
 child. I have noticed as the nearer the time comes 
 the worse you are. Now, if you don't want to go, 
 dear, don't you go don't you. Stay here long o' me!" 
 
 "Oh! Aunt Sophie, I do grieve to leave you, but 
 I must go I must," sighed Lilith. 
 
 And she held to her resolution in spite of all the 
 good woman could say. 
 
 For Lilith felt that since her husband would not 
 relent, would not retract, would not call her back, 
 the farther she could get away from the scene of her 
 suffering the more contented she might be. In change 
 of scene and foreign travel she might forget her 
 misery. 
 
 Aunt Sophie, since she could not persuade her 
 favorite to stay with her, busied herself in helping 
 in the final preparations for her sea voyage. She 
 packed little jars of home-made pickles and acid pre-
 
 LILITH 137 
 
 serves, and little boxes of delicate biscuits and cakes, 
 for Lilith's private use. 
 
 "For," she said, "though I know them ocean 
 steamers have all the luxuries that can be bought 
 with money, yet I do think as these home-made things 
 is better. And though you mayn't be downright sea- 
 sick, honey, you're bound to be a little bit mawkish 
 with the motion of the vessel, and then these little 
 things might suit your appetite when nothing else 
 would." 
 
 "I am sure of it, dear Aunt Sophie. Even a cup 
 of tea is all the sweeter and more refreshing when 
 it is poured out by a friend's hand," replied Lilith. 
 Whereupon Aunt Sophie shed a few tears weakly, 
 not unhappily. 
 
 The last day before the sailing came. All the lug- 
 gage was to be sent down on board the steamer that 
 afternoon; and the next morning the baroness was 
 to call in her carriage to pick up her companion on 
 her way to the ship. 
 
 All that forenoon Aunt Sophie wept softly to her- 
 self, furtively wiping her eyes whenever she could get 
 a chance. 
 
 "I don't want the child to see me cry. It will only 
 make her feel bad," she said to herself as she dodged 
 Lilith. 
 
 At noon Lilith's trunk was taken down to the hall, 
 to wait for the expressman to call and carry it to 
 the ship. 
 
 Lilith herself, with nothing at all to do, sat with 
 Aunt Sophie at the front parlor window, saying those 
 last, tender words that are always repeated over and 
 over again for days and hours before parting, when 
 there came a ring at the door bell, followed soon by 
 the entrance of Monsieur Le Grange, private secre- 
 tary to the Baroness Von Bruyin.
 
 138 LILITH 
 
 The little old gentleman came in, bowing as was 
 his wont. 
 
 Mrs. Downie got up to leave the room thinking 
 that the secretary might have brought some private 
 message from the baroness to her young companion; 
 but he prevented her by a deprecatory bow and a 
 polite disclaimer: 
 
 "Pardon, madame! I have come but to say a word, 
 to make an explanation. I have come from Madame 
 la Baronne to her beautiful and accomplished dame 
 du compagnie here," he said, turning with another 
 bow to Lilith. "Madame desires me to say, to ex- 
 plain, that she goes not to Europe by the Kron Prinz 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "She does not sail by the Kron Prinz!" exclaimed 
 Lilith, as if in her surprise she could not compre- 
 hend the fact. 
 
 "No, madame. La Baronne has changed her plan. 
 She sails not to-morrow." 
 
 "Has she changed her mind about going to 
 Europe?" inquired Lilith, with new hope lighting her 
 eyes at this reprieve. 
 
 "No, madame. She has not changed her mind, but 
 only her ship. She will go by the Kaiser Wilhelm on 
 Saturday." 
 
 "Dear me, what a pity! Why, she will lose all her 
 passage money!" exclaimed Mrs. Downie, whose 
 economical soul was dismayed at such a useless sacri- 
 fice of the "needful." 
 
 "She will lose the half of it, madame, for herself 
 and all her suite, and that is considerable, as her suite 
 is large. But she goes, after all, by a ship of the same 
 line." 
 
 "Well, honey," said Aunt Sophie, turning to Lilith, 
 "at least this will give me three days more of your 
 dear company; and who knows? before Saturday 
 something may happen to prevent your going at all.''
 
 LILITH 139 
 
 "Oh, no!" sighed Lilith "Nothing will happen. 
 Nothing one hopes or fears ever happens." 
 
 "Now, what was the reason why the baroness put 
 off her voyage for only three days at such a cost as 
 that?" inquired simple Aunt Sophie, asking a ques- 
 tion that Lilith had longed to ask but had shrunk 
 from patting. 
 
 "I do not know, madame. Her resolution was taken 
 very suddenly this morning," said the secretary, rising 
 to take leave. 
 
 "Has the baroness any commands for me?" inquired 
 Lilith, also rising. 
 
 "No, madame, none," replied the secretary, bow- 
 ing himself out. 
 
 "'Well, of all the whims I ever heard of in my life!" 
 exclaimed Aunt Sophie. "But, anyways, 'it is an ill 
 wind that blows nobody any good.' And this here 
 'whim' has blown me the blessing of your company 
 for three days more, honey, and something may 
 happen." 
 
 Lilith shook her head incredulously. 
 
 She gave all her time to Aunt Sophie that day and 
 the next day, when the old lady said to her: 
 
 "To think, now, if it hadn't been for the whim of 
 the baroness you would now have been on the ocean, 
 instead of sitting here beside me. And maybe you 
 won't go on Saturday, neither, who knows? Some- 
 thing may happen." 
 
 But again Lilith smiled and shook her head. 
 
 In the course of the forenoon a note came from 
 the baroness to Lilith. 
 
 "Come to me this evening, my dear, and I will tell 
 you why I changed my ship. The news will astonish 
 you, I think, and it may indeed change my whole 
 destiny. Tell your good landlady not to expect you 
 back soon, as I shall keep you until a late hour, and
 
 140 LILITH 
 
 then return you safe, as before, under the escort of 
 
 Monsieur Le Grange. Answer by the messenger. 
 
 "Affectionately, L. V. B. J 
 
 n 
 
 Lilith wrote a note to the effect that she would 
 wait on the baroness at seven o'clock that evening, 
 and sent it by the page who had brought the first. 
 
 Then she showed the baroness' note to Aunt 
 Sophie, who, after hearing it read, was filled with 
 curiosity. 
 
 "Now what on earth can she have to tell you that 
 will astonish you so much? Maybe she is going to 
 marry the old secretary, and wants you to be brides- 
 maid!" said Aunt Sophie. 
 
 Lilith looked at the simple woman and laughed. It 
 was the first time she had laughed since her heavy 
 sorrow. 
 
 "Well, now, stranger things than that has hap- 
 pened, honey; let alone the fact that nobody can ever 
 account for the whims of these fine ladies. And come 
 to think of it, didn't she marry an old man for her 
 first husband? Maybe she has a fancy for old men. 
 Some women have, I know," said Aunt Sophie, nod- 
 ding her head sagaciously. 
 
 "Perhaps," said Lilith, remembering Mrs. Jab Jor- 
 don, and being unable to gainsay Aunt Sophie's dec- 
 laration "perhaps; but I do not think Madame Von 
 Bruyin is one of those women. She married the Herr 
 Baron to please her father." 
 
 "She don't look to me like one as would do any- 
 thing as didn't please herself just as well. She is a 
 good lady, a mighty good lady, and a generous and 
 a charitable one, and she give me a great deal of 
 money for the poor children. And I shall always be 
 thankful to her and pray for her, and get the breth- 
 ren to pray for her; but all the same, she's got a will
 
 LILITH 141 
 
 of her own, my dear. She will have her own way 
 you may depend she will. 
 
 'Gin mammie and daddie and a' gang mad,' 
 
 as the old song says." 
 
 "Well, I shall know to-morrow why she has delayed 
 her voyage," said Lilith. 
 
 "Yes, and if she is going to marry the old secre- 
 tary and a nice old gentleman he is, too, I will say 
 that for him she won't want you, my dear. It's 
 only rich old maids and rich widows as wants com- 
 panions married women don't. And so she'll let you 
 off your bargain and pay you compensation, which is 
 no more than right and proper, she being wealthy and 
 generous and you being a young orphan. And that's 
 what's going to happen, maybe, to prevent your voy- 
 age, and I shall have you all- to myself. Who knows?" 
 
 "I do not think that will happen, Aunt Sophie." 
 
 "Well, we'll see." 
 
 "Yes, very soon. This very evening." 
 
 "And if it is that which I said, of course we shall 
 all hear it. But if it is anything else that has made 
 her change her day of sailing, will you tell me?" 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Sophie, unless the communication of 
 the baroness to me should be of a confidential na- 
 ture," said Lilith. 
 
 "How I do hate secrets! I never had one of my 
 own in my life," said Aunt Sophie, with funny sim- 
 plicity. 
 
 When evening came Lilith set out to walk to the 
 hotel to keep her appointment with the baroness. 
 
 When she reached that lady's apartments, how- 
 ever, she was met by the secretary, who, after politely 
 greeting her, explained the absence of the baroness. 
 
 "Madame is ill! She is ill! Headache. Migraine, 
 you know," he said, in a very pathetic tone. "She
 
 LILITH 
 
 lies in a room pitch, dark; her maid sits beside her, 
 silent as death. It is a vault it is a grave, for she 
 cannot bear the faintest ray of light, or murmur of 
 sound. She can see no one; but before she retired 
 to her bed she bade me receive you here, excuse her 
 to you, and say to you, in brief, that the reason why 
 she changed her steamer was that there was a party 
 going by the Kron Prinz with whom she did not wish 
 to sail, and that she would explain further when you 
 meet. Meanwhile, chere madame, all arrangements 
 are completed for our embarkation on the Kaiser 
 Wilhelm on Saturday morning. Our baggage will be 
 sent on board on Friday evening." 
 
 Lilith thanked the old secretary for his informa- 
 tion, left her sympathetic regrets for Madame Von 
 Bruyin, and arose to depart. 
 
 "I will have the honor to see you home, madame," 
 said the polite secretary, as he attended Lilith down- 
 stairs and out to the sidewalk. 
 
 There, as before, he called a carriage, put her into 
 it, took a seat by her side and ordered the coachman 
 to drive to Mrs. Downie's boarding-house. 
 
 He only left Lilith when he had seen her enter the 
 hall. 
 
 "And now, honey, what is it?" inquired Aunt 
 Sophie, as soon as the two friends were seated in the 
 front parlor together. "You are back a heap sooner 
 than I expected. What did she tell you?" 
 "Nothing. I did not see her. She has gone to bed 
 with a severe headache. But she left a short mes- 
 sage for me with Monsieur Le Grange to the effect 
 that the reason why she would not sail by the Kron 
 Prinz was that there was a party going by that 
 steamer with whom she did not wish to travel," an- 
 swered Lilith. 
 
 "Now, did ever any soul hear the like of that?" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Downie. "If that doesn't cap all the
 
 LILITH 143 
 
 whims I ever heard of in all the days of my life! 
 But I ought'nt to say anything agin' her, I oughtn't 
 indeed, for she's a mighty good lady and a charitable 
 one, and she give me such a heap of money for the 
 poor street children." 
 
 Lilith saw no more of Madame Von Bruyin until 
 Saturday morning, when the baroness called in her 
 carriage to pick up her companion on her way to the 
 steamer. 
 
 Madame got out of her coach and went into the 
 house for the purpose of bidding, good-bye to Mrs. 
 Downie, whom she found crying over Lilith. 
 
 "You'll be good to the child, madame! I know 
 you will be good to her! I believe, I hope, I trust 
 you will," said Aunt Sophie, a little inconsistently, 
 as, after reiterated leave-taking, she resigned Lilith 
 into the charge of the baroness. 
 
 "Have no fear. She shall be happy, if I can make 
 her so," said the lady. And then, with a sudden 
 impulse of kindness, she added the question: 
 
 "Would you not like to go down to the ship and 
 see us off? Come with us do! And the same car- 
 riage can bring you back to your own door." 
 
 "Oh, thank you, yes. Indeed, indeed, I would. 
 And I won't be a minute in getting on my things," 
 said the grateful old lady, as she hurried from the 
 room. 
 
 In a very few moments she reappeared with her 
 mashed black silk bonnet, rusty black Canton crape 
 shawl, and thread gloves. 
 
 The three went out to the carriage, in which the 
 old Frenchman had remained seated. When they ap- 
 peared he got out, politely saluted the party, handed 
 them into their seats, and then followed them. 
 
 The four persons just comfortably filled the car- 
 riage. Madame's maid and footman followed in an-
 
 144 LILITH 
 
 other carriage, having charge of their lady's lighter 
 luggage. 
 
 And so they started to drive down the avenue to 
 the ferry by which they were to cross to Hoboken, 
 from which point the steamer was to sail. 
 
 Arrived at the pier on the other side, they found 
 their ship, and in and about it a crowd, mostly com- 
 posed of foreigners, commercial travelers, returning 
 German emigrants, and a few summer tourists. 
 
 Aunt Sophie accompanied her friends on board the 
 steamer, and became an interested and sympathetic 
 spectator of the busy and affecting scene around her. 
 Some of the leave-takings touched her tender heart 
 even to tears, and made her think of the happy land 
 where there would be "no more sorrow nor crying," 
 and she kept on fortifying her mind by repeating over 
 and over to herself the lines of her hymn : 
 
 "Oh, that will be joyful! 
 Joyful, joyful, joyful! 
 Oh, that will be joyful 
 To meet, to part no more! 
 To meet to part no more, 
 On Canaan's happy shore, 
 Where we shall meet 
 At Jesus' feet, 
 And meet to part no more!" 
 
 Tears were in her tender eyes while the music of 
 the simple hymn was sounding through her spirit. 
 
 Farewells were falling from faltering lips and fail- 
 ing hearts all around her. And in a saloon not far 
 off a party of Germans were celebrating their em- 
 barkation by drinking lager and singing songs, in 
 which Fatherland was the most frequent word and 
 the chorus. 
 
 But Aunt Sophie heard none of this. She was in a 
 dream.
 
 LILITH 145 
 
 She was aroused by the gentle voice of Lilith in 
 her ear, saying: 
 
 "Aunt Sophie, the baroness says you have just 
 time to bid us good-bye and get comfortably back 
 to the pier. Monsieur Le Grange is waiting here to 
 take you to the carriage, after which he will barely 
 have time to return to us before the plank is drawn. 
 Dear Aunt Sophie, the moment has come. Bid me 
 good-bye and give me your blessing." 
 
 Mrs. Downie caught Lilith to her breast, burst into 
 tears and sobbed aloud. 
 
 Lilith kissed her repeatedly, reiterating all the 
 promises she had ever made, never to forget her, 
 always to love her, often to write to her, and soon 
 as possible to return. 
 
 "Madame, I must have the honor, if you please," 
 said Monsieur Le Grange, with kindly firmness, as 
 he drew the arm of the little old lady within his 
 own and led her off to the gang plank, over which a 
 sad procession was passing to the pier. 
 
 She had not even remembered to take leave of the 
 baroness. 
 
 In five minutes Monsieur Le Grange returned to 
 the deck, rejoined Madame Von Bruyin's party and 
 reported : 
 
 "Madame Downie has serened herself on the 
 cushions of the carriage. She repeats to herself some 
 consoling office of her religion. She " 
 
 But the good secretary's voice was drowned in the 
 loud report of the farewell gun. 
 
 And the next minute the Kaiser Wilhelm stood out 
 to sea. 
 
 It was two hours later. Most of the passengers 
 had gone below, either to arrange their berths, or to 
 guard against the first approaches of sea-sickness. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin and her young companion sat 
 well forward on the deck and quite out of hearing
 
 146 LILITH 
 
 of any fellow-voyager. They had been silently gaz- 
 ing out to sea for a few minutes, when the baroness 
 suddenly turned to her companion and said: 
 
 "I presume Monsieur Le Grange gave you my mes- 
 sage that evening when you came to the hotel and 
 found me too ill to keep my appointment?" 
 
 "Yes, madame." 
 
 "And he told you my reason for changing 
 steamers?" 
 
 "Yes, madame, very briefly, to the effect that there 
 was a party on board the Kron Prinz with whom 
 you did not wish to travel." 
 
 "Yes, that was my short message; but he also 
 added, if he reported me aright, that I woulld explain 
 further when we should meet." 
 
 "He told me that, madame." 
 
 "Well, my dear, I suppose you could never be able 
 to guess who it was from whom I shrank on the 
 Kron Prinz." 
 
 "No, I am sure I could not. I have known so very 
 few of your acquaintances, madame." 
 
 "Yet of this especial acquaintance I have spoken 
 to you more than once. Surely now you can guess 
 who it is that has gone before us to Europe in the 
 Kron Prinz, can you not?" 
 
 "No, madame; unless unless it was Prince Carl of 
 Altenburg " 
 
 "Prince Carl? Well, you know, of course, he was 
 a bore, and worried me not a little; but I should not 
 have changed my steamer on his account, even if he 
 had been on board the Kron Prinz, which he was not. 
 No, you must try again." 
 
 "I am sure I cannot guess, madame," said Lilith, 
 with a smile, but with no interest in the question. 
 
 "Then I must tell you," said the lady; and drop- 
 ping her voice, she added: "Who should it be but 
 my old lover, Mr. Tudor Hereward, who has just
 
 LILITH 147 
 
 been appointed Secretary of Legation to the Court 
 of ." 
 
 Lilith grew cold as death, but did not reply. 
 
 The baroness, too full of the subject, and of her 
 own possible fortunes in connection with it, failed to 
 notice her companion's silence, and went on eagerly 
 to say: 
 
 "Yes, I first saw the announcement of his appoint- 
 ment, and 'of his intended voyage on the Kron Prinz, 
 in the Pursuivant of Tuesday morning. And I saw 
 something more in connection with his history that 
 surprised me very much something that seemed to 
 render it indelicate, embarrassing, and even improper 
 for me to make this sea voyage in his company. But 
 we shall be sure to meet on the other side. And that 
 meeting will probably decide our destinies. For now, 
 my dear, we are both free!" 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 LILITH REVEALS HERSELF 
 
 There was a time when meadow, grove and spring 
 The earth and every common sight, 
 
 To her did seem 
 Appareled in celestial light, 
 
 The glory and the freshness of a dream. 
 It is not now as it hath been before; 
 Turn wheresoe'er she may, 
 
 By night or day, 
 
 The things that she hath seen she now can see no more. 
 Waters on a starry night, 
 Sunshine is a glorious birth, 
 Yet she knows, where'er she goes, 
 That there hath passed away a glory from the earth. 
 
 Wordsworth.
 
 148 LILITH 
 
 " 'THAT meeting may decide' your 'destinies!' 
 How?" inquired Lilith, in a low, steady tone, which 
 it required all her powers of self-control to regulate. 
 
 "Oh, my child, did you never hear the homely old 
 adage concerning lovers that 'old coals are soon 
 kindled?' We Tudor Hereward and Leda Von 
 Bruyin have only to meet to come to a good under- 
 standing. My dear, we love one another. That is 
 the reason why, under present circumstances, I did 
 not choose to cross the ocean in the same steamer 
 with him. Nor do I wish to meet him for some 
 months yet. We could not, under any circumstances, 
 unite our destinies in less than twelve or eighteen 
 months, you know," said the baroness, speaking with 
 much self-complacence. 
 
 " 'Unite your destinies?' " repeated Lilith, in the 
 same low tone. 
 
 "Why, yes! Don't you understand? Why, marry, 
 of course! Mr. Hereward and myself understand each 
 other at heart, I feel sure, although we parted in 
 mutual displeasure, and have never written or spoken 
 to each other since." 
 
 "But his wife?" queried Lilith, in a low, hesi- 
 tating voice. 
 
 "Oh, well, his wife! I am sorry for her, poor child! 
 Really sorry for her! And he, too, must be sorry 
 that she met such an awful fate," said the baroness, 
 pausing and falling into thought. 
 
 "What fate did she meet?" inquird Lilith, in the 
 same constrained, low monotone. 
 
 "Why, don't you know? Did not I tell you? Oh, 
 no! I believe I did not. I said that we were both 
 free, however, and you must have understood what 
 that meant." 
 
 "No, I did not." 
 
 "It meant, of course, that his wife was dead, as
 
 LILITH 149 
 
 well as my husband the two events setting us both 
 free to marry again." 
 
 "His wife dead! Tudor Hereward's wife dead I 
 Madame, what reason have you for supposing so?" 
 demanded Lilith, in a low but firm tone. 
 
 "I do not wonder that you are surprised and in- 
 credulous! It is so strange that the young wife, with 
 perhaps seventy years of life before her, should have 
 been cut off by accident so soon; but strange things 
 do happen in this uncertain old world of ours! And, 
 my dear, it is true Tudor Hereward's wife is dead."* 
 
 "Dead? Yes, in some sense of the word, she is 
 dead, I suppose," muttered Lilith to herself. Then 
 slightly raising her voice she inquired: "Are you sure 
 that she is dead, madame?" 
 
 "As sure as I can be of anything in this world. I 
 knew nothing about it until I read what seemed to 
 be a resume of the whole story in the Pursuivant. 
 Strange how we sometimes read and forget things 
 without having the slightest idea of their significance 
 to us! Some weeks ago I read in the papers that 
 the body of an unknown young woman had been 
 found in the woods on Cave Creek, near Frosthill 
 in West Virginia. I read it without the faintest idea 
 that I, or any one connected with me, could have 
 any interest in that fact. And I had forgotten all 
 about it until I read in the Pursuivant of Tuesday 
 the announcement of Tudor Hereward's appointment 
 as Secretary of Legation to the Court of - , and 
 the theory that he had only accepted the appoint- 
 ment in order to seek, by serving his country in 
 foreign lands, some benefit to his health, broken down 
 by grief for the tragic fate of his young wife." 
 
 "Merciful Heaven!" breathed Lilith to herself. 
 
 "And then, my dear," continued the baroness, un- 
 conscious of the interruption, "the whole story was 
 gathered up and rehearsed how young Mrs. Here-
 
 150 LILITH 
 
 ward was missing from her home on the night of the 
 21st of March, and how no trace of her could be found 
 until about the middle of April, when a body, much 
 decomposed, was discovered in the woods on the banks 
 of Cave Creek, which, after much investigation, con- 
 tradictory evidence and dispute, was proved beyond 
 all possibility of doubt to be that of Tudor Hereward's 
 young wife." 
 
 "How very strange!" muttered Lilith. 
 
 "Yes very strange. It must have given Mr. Here- 
 ward a great shock, even though he never loved the 
 poor, inane young creature." 
 
 "No; of course, he never loved her!" sighed Lilith. 
 
 "How could he love her? He loved me madly, 
 passionately, idolatrously at the very time that he 
 married her. Why, I had rejected him only a few 
 hours before he proposed to her! And oh! what a 
 fool she must have been to have accepted a man who 
 had never wooed her accepted him at his very first 
 word! I am sorry for the poor thing, but you must 
 acknowledge that she was a great idiot, and in no way 
 a fit and proper wife for Tudor Hereward." 
 
 "I do acknowledge it; but but perhaps she loved 
 him," meekly suggested Lilith. 
 
 "That does not excuse her for snatching at a man's 
 first offer." 
 
 "But do you think it was quite right in him to ask 
 a girl to be his wife when he could not love her at 
 all?" 
 
 "No, indeed; I do not. I think he did her a most 
 grievous wrong. I told him so in Washington when 
 he announced his marriage to me. But, then, my dear, 
 he was half mad with rage, jealousy and disappoint- 
 ment. He married her to be revenged upon me noth- 
 ing more." 
 
 "It was a pity for the poor, unloved wife!" breathed 
 Lilith.
 
 LILITH 151 
 
 "Indeed it was poor child. And no doubt lie re- 
 pents the wrong he did her, now that she has met 
 so cruel a fate robbed and murdered by tramps, it 
 is supposed, while she was on her way to relieve the 
 wants of a sick and destitute neighbor. Remorse is 
 harder to bear than sorrow, and no doubt it is re- 
 morse for the wrongs he had done her, and not sorrow 
 for the loss of the wife whom he never loved, that 
 is breaking down his health. However, he will get 
 over it in time," said the lady, complacently. 
 
 "And you expect some day to bestow on him 
 your hand in marriage?" slowly questioned Lilith. 
 
 "Yes, my dear; I mean to do him that justice to 
 give him that consolation. We are both so young 
 yet. He is not thirty, I am but a little more than 
 twenty years of age. We have a long life before us, 
 in which I shall do all that in me lies to make him 
 forget his earl} 7 disappointments and sorrows; to make 
 him as completely blessed and happy as woman can 
 make man," said the baroness, with more depth of 
 feeling in her thrilling tones than Lilith had ever de- 
 tected there before. 
 
 A dead silence followed these last words. Then 
 at length Lilith spoke in a low, firm, steady voice: 
 
 "Madame, you must not dream of your future life 
 in connection with that of Tudor Hereward." 
 
 "What! Why must I not? Whatever do you mean? 
 Why, I ask you?" demanded the surprised baroness. 
 
 "Because it would be a great sin." 
 
 "Sin! Why a sin?" 
 
 "Because Tudor Hereward's wife still lives," replied 
 Lilith, in a voice of such unnatural, mechanical calm- 
 ness that it did not seein to come from living lips. 
 
 "Tudor Hereward's w r ife still lives?" demanded the 
 baroness, in slow, questioning, incredulous tones. 
 "What can you know about it? Her dead body was 
 found was identified; what, then, do you mean by
 
 152 LILITH 
 
 saying that she still lives? And what can you know 
 about it, in any case?" 
 
 "Madame, I do not dispute that some woman's dead 
 body was found near her dwelling. I know not whose 
 it was; but I do know that it was not Tudor Here- 
 ward's wife's." 
 
 "How dare you say so! How can you know any- 
 thing about the matter?" demanded the baroness, al- 
 most indignantly. 
 
 "Because, madame oh, forgive me because I I 
 am Mr. Hereward's most unhappy wife!" answered 
 Lilith, dropping her head in her hands with a low, 
 heart-breaking moan. 
 
 There was a dead silence between the two for a few 
 minutes. 
 
 The baroness was the first to speak. 
 
 "You? You the wife of Tudor Hereward? Im- 
 possible!" she muttered, glaring down on the little 
 bowed head. 
 
 Lilith's bosom heaved with a silent sob; but she 
 did not reply. 
 
 "You the wife of Mr. Tudor Hereward? I say it 
 is impossible!" repeated Madame Von Bruyin. 
 
 "I would to Heaven that it were impossible," 
 moaned Lilith. 
 
 "It cannot be true!" reiterated the baroness. 
 
 "I call Heaven to witness that it is true, madame. 
 I am very sorry I beg you to forgive me I should 
 never have told you, madame, but to save you from 
 vain and sinful hopes and dreams. Indeed, I am 
 very sorry, and I beg you to forgive me." 
 
 "You are, then, the child-wife whom Tudor Here- 
 ward married in haste and in rage to be revenged on 
 me?" sternly demanded the baroness. 
 
 Lilith, with her face still buried in her hands, an- 
 swered by a nod and a silent sob.
 
 LILITH 153 
 
 "You seem, then, to have entered my service under 
 false pretences?" sneered the lady. 
 
 "No, madame," gently replied Lilith, "under no 
 false pretences. Under reserve, if you please, under 
 reticence in regard to my past life, but under no false 
 pretences." 
 
 "You entered my service as a widow." 
 
 "Pardon me, madame, I never told you that I was 
 a widow. I signed my name to my letters, Eliza- 
 beth Wyvil. When we met you called me Miss 
 Wyvil. I told you that I was not 'Miss' Wyvil. You 
 then took it for granted that I was Mrs. and a widow 
 as, indeed, I was in fate, if not in law. Remember, 
 dear madame, that I gave you my college testimonials 
 as references, and told you that the good women who 
 allowed me to refer to them I mean Mrs. Ponsonby, 
 of Baltimore, and Mrs. Downie, of New York really 
 knew very little of me, but had taken me up in faith 
 and charity." 
 
 "But why did you call yourself Mrs. Wyvil, and 
 allow yourself to be considered as a widow, when your 
 name was Hereward?" demanded the lady. 
 
 "Because my husband, on the day that he dis- 
 carded me, forbade me to use his family name; and 
 in obedience to him I dropped it, retaining only my 
 own maiden name Elizabeth Wyvil. I could not ex- 
 plain this fact to you without accusing my husband. 
 Nor should I explain now but to prevent a great evil," 
 said Lilith. 
 
 Again silence fell between them, which Lilith was 
 the first to break: 
 
 "You never once questioned me as to my state, 
 madame. If you had asked me plainly, 'Are you a 
 widow?' I must have told you that I was not except 
 in fate. But you took it for granted that because I 
 was not 'Miss' Wyvil I must be a widow."
 
 15-f LILITH 
 
 "Yes, you are right. It was my own assumption," 
 said the baroness. 
 
 "I am very sorry that I have been with you in a 
 mistaken position. I am ready to make any amends 
 in my power; ready even to leave your service at this 
 moment, if it be your wish that I should do so." 
 
 "This moment! Why, you are out at sea and will 
 have no opportunity to leave until we reach H-avre." 
 
 "I remember that, madame; but if you wish to 
 part with me, I can leave you without leaving the 
 ship. I can refund my passage money, and end our 
 connection now and here." 
 
 "And what would you do then?" 
 
 "As soon as we reach Havre take passage in the 
 first ship back to New York, and return to Mrs. 
 Downie." 
 
 "Does she know your true story?" 
 
 "No; she knows me only as Elizabeth Wyvil. And 
 by that name only must I be known, since my hus- 
 band has forbidden me to use his." 
 
 "My dear, I do not wish to part with you. But 
 tell me, since you have told me the fact, why did your 
 husband part with you?" 
 
 "Madame, you yourself gave the reason. I was not 
 'fit' to be his wife," said Lilith, mournfully. 
 
 "My dear, I should never have said that if I had 
 known you," replied the baroness, who, notwithstand- 
 ing her own disappointed love for Tudor Hereward, 
 still felt hpr heart drawn in pity towards his young 
 discarded wife the youthful stranger to whom she 
 had been so strongly attracted at first sight, and whom 
 in after intercourse she had grown to love. 
 
 "But I am surprised that you, who are so different 
 from the girl whom I had imagined as Hereward's 
 hastily married wife yon who are gifted with rare 
 intelligence and sensibility should have condo-
 
 LILITH 155 
 
 scended to marry him at such very short notice. How 
 was it?" gently inquired the baroness. 
 
 The answer came low and soft : 
 
 "Because I loved him, and believed he loved me." 
 
 "You believed he loved you. Had he ever told you 
 so?" demanded the lady. 
 
 "Xo, never. Tudor Hereward never spoke an un- 
 truth." 
 
 "Then what reason, in the name of Heaven, had 
 you for thinking that he loved you?" 
 
 "Because he asked me to become his wife. Of 
 course I never once imagined that he could have any 
 other motive than affection for wishing to marry me?" 
 
 "But did not the suddenness of the proposal for 
 an immediate marriage, too awaken your sus- 
 picions?" 
 
 "No; for it was his dying father's wish to see us 
 married by his bedside before he should pass away." 
 
 "Oh! That puts quite a new face upon the whole 
 proceeding. Poor child! To please that dying father 
 you consented to marry that son at a moment's 
 notice." 
 
 "No, madame; no. It was, as I said, because I loved 
 Tudor Hereward, and believed he loved me, that I 
 consented. Otherwise I should never have done so, 
 even to satisfy the beloved, dying father, though I 
 would willingly have died to redeem his life, had that 
 been possible," earnestly answered Lilith. 
 
 "Ah, well! You loved him, and I suppose he knew 
 it. That redeems the affair from utter abomination. 
 But perhaps you do not like to speak of your short 
 union with Mr. Hereward?" 
 
 " I do not shrink from speaking of it, nor do I break 
 any faith in speaking of him, for, madame, we are 
 parted more effectually than even death, can part 
 those who love each other." 
 "But you love him?"
 
 156 LILITH 
 
 Lilith answered by a deep, silent sob as she dropped 
 her face into her hands. 
 
 "And you are so young! Only seventeen! How 
 long have you loved this man, my dear?" compas- 
 sionately inquired the lady. 
 
 "How long? As long as I have lived, I think. I 
 do not remember the time when I did not love Tudor 
 Hereward as I love my Lord. It was my religion to 
 love him. I was brought up to worship God, and to 
 adore Tudor Hereward. Under the Almighty, he was 
 my lord, my law-giver. This love was my life," mur- 
 mured Lilith, in a low, thrilling, pathetic voice. 
 
 "Who trained you to this idolatry?" 
 
 "His father my foster-father." 
 
 Again silence fell between the two. 
 
 At length the baroness inquired: 
 
 "My dear, will you tell me how you came to be 
 the foster-daughter of the late Major Hereward? But 
 do not do so if you would rather not." 
 
 "I have no objection," answered Lilith. 
 
 And in a few brief words she told the story of her 
 adoption as it is known to the reader. 
 
 "I am half inclined to retract all that I have said 
 of Tudor Hereward. It may be that revenge did not 
 enter into his scheme of marrying a child whom he 
 did not love. It may be that he was actuated solely 
 by the wish to please his father and to pay a sacred 
 debt," said the baroness. 
 
 "Yes, to pay a sacred debt. That is what they 
 called it a sacred debt. Ah! would to Heaven I 
 had died with my mother rather than lived to be the 
 creditor of that fatal debt! Heaven knows how soon 
 I would have absolved both father and son from its 
 responsibility had I known it was only for that cause 
 I was to be married," said Lilith, with a sigh so 
 heavy that it moved the pity of the lady, who took 
 the girl's hand and held it kindly as she said:
 
 LILITH 157 
 
 "I do suppose that a marriage contracted under 
 such circumstances must, sooner or later, end just 
 as yours has. And, my poor child, since it was 
 doomed to end so, it is better that it should sooner 
 than later. Yet I cannot imagine that you could* 
 have given any provocation for an act so extreme 
 as his repudiation of you; and I feel deeply inter- 
 ested to know just what precipitated the event." 
 
 "Dear madame, I can only tell you that it was a mis- 
 apprehension on his part, which, could he have loved 
 and trusted me, need not have ended in the fatal 
 quarrel that has separated us forever. You under- 
 stand now. I need not go into the painful details of 
 that scene." 
 
 "No, you need not. And so you left your home 
 secretly?" 
 
 "Oh, no, not secretly. For when at last he told me 
 that he had never loved me; that he had only married 
 me to please his father; that he should go away from 
 his home and never return while I desecrated the 
 house with my presence, then I answered that I must 
 not be the means of driving him from his ancestral 
 home; that I must depart" 
 
 "Heavens! What did he say to that?" 
 
 "With a look full of scorn and wrath, he bade me 
 quit his sight. I left the room, went to my chamber 
 and prepared for my journey. I went away that night, 
 leaving a farewell letter on my dressing-bureau." 
 
 "And no one saw you go?" 
 
 "No one. It was late on a winter night, and I went 
 forth alone." 
 
 "Poor child! And this accounts for the story of 
 your mysterious disappearance and supposed death." 
 
 "Yes, I presume so. They must have believed that 
 I came to my death after leaving the house." 
 
 "And he believes that you are dead! And he suf- 
 fers from remorse, if not from grief. Well, we shall
 
 158 LILITH 
 
 find him on the other side. Shall we make your exist- 
 ence known to him?" 
 
 "I do not know, madame. I must think and pray 
 over that question. But even if he be assured that 
 I do still live, he must not be annoyed by the sight 
 of my face. Oh! madame, though I long with all my 
 soul to see him again, to hear his voice once more, 
 yet, yet, I shrink from the ordeal as from fire!" said 
 Lilith. 
 
 "I can well believe that. I am glad I did not tell 
 you my news before we sailed. If I had done so, 
 you would not perhaps have come with me." 
 
 "No," said Lilith. 
 
 Silence fell between the two women, and lasted 
 until the bell rang for luncheon, for which neither 
 of them felt the least desire. 
 
 It was an excuse for moving, however something 
 to do and Madame Von Bruyin arose and offered 
 her arm to her slighter companion and the two went 
 down to the saloon together. It was about two 
 o'clock. They were well out at sea now and the waves 
 were rather high; the ship was rolling uncomfortably 
 for those who had not found their sea legs and their 
 sea stomachs. 
 
 Neither Madame Von Bruyin nor Lilith as yet suf- 
 fered from the motion. 
 
 After lunch, however, each retired alone to her 
 state-room. 
 
 The baroness threw herself into her berth and gave 
 way to the tide of shame, grief and indignation which 
 it had required all her pride, conscience and self-con- 
 trol to restrain while she was in the presence of Tudor 
 Hereward's young wife. 
 
 She had been strangely attracted to Lilith from 
 the first meeting with her, and she had grown to love 
 the girl with the fond, protecting love of an elder 
 sister. She had given Lilith her confidence, revealed
 
 LILITH 159 
 
 her inmost heart, told her love-story even her love 
 for Tudor Hereward to Tudor Hereward's unknown 
 wife! What a mortification in the thought that she 
 had done so ! Yet, there was a selfish comfort, which 
 she blamed herself for taking, in the reflection that 
 it was to the unloved and discarded wife that she had 
 told this story. 
 
 She had within the past few days had her heart's 
 deepest affections raised from despair to something 
 near absolute certainty. "Her hopes soared up like 
 fire!" And in the exaltation of her spirits she had 
 called on Lilith to share her joy and to congratulate 
 her only to have them all extinguished by the 
 damper of the girl's communication "Tudor Here- 
 ward's wife still lives ... I am Tudor Here- 
 ward's most unhappy wife!" 
 
 How all her soul had risen up in defiance and con- 
 tradiction of that statement until its truth was 
 pressed in upon her consciousness. And then, all her 
 sense of justice, all her powers of self-command were 
 required to pass calmly through the ordeal of the 
 interview that ensued. She had passed through it 
 successfully. She had so mastered her pain and re- 
 pressed her heart that she now felt sure Hereward's 
 young wife regarded Leda Von Bruyin's love for him 
 as the mere passing fancy of a wealthy woman of the 
 world, soon to be forgotten in the change of travel 
 or the whirl of society. She felt no jealousy of this 
 despised and discarded wife, as she might have felt 
 had Lilith been the beloved, honored and cherished 
 companion of her husband; on the contrary, she felt 
 pity, affection and sympathy for the poor, lonely and 
 dependent child. 
 
 But her spirit blazed out in fierce anger of Tudor 
 Hereward's whole course of conduct toward them 
 both, so that she was very unjust to him. 
 
 "He has ruined two lives by his arrogant reckless-
 
 160 LILITH 
 
 ness and precipitation. He loved me; he never loved 
 that poor girl. He loved me, and he ought to have 
 waited, in hope and faith, as long as I continued un- 
 married. He ought not to have rushed into matri- 
 mony with that young creature whom he never loved, 
 and so made her miserable and put an insurmount- 
 able obstacle between himself and me! Or having 
 married her, he should have cherished her and not 
 discarded her. 
 
 "No, Tudor Hereward," she continued to herself, 
 "you are no longer the chevalier sans peur et sans 
 reproche, that I once believed you! And if I suffer 
 now, it is not that I love you still, but that my love 
 is dying hard very, very hard!" 
 
 "But I will take a queenly revenge upon you, my 
 master! A most noble and royal revenge. This child- 
 wife whom you have discarded shall be to me as the 
 dearest little sister. She is already beautiful, ele- 
 'gant and graceful by nature. She is cultivated, re- 
 fined and accomplished by education; all she needs 
 is intercourse with the highest European circles to 
 give her the tone and manner of the most cultured 
 society. And that she shall have. I will introduce 
 her, not as my salaried companion though she shall 
 have her salary and much more than her salary 
 but as my own adopted sister. And when you see her 
 again, Tudor Hereward, you will not be likely to de- 
 spise her. 
 
 "And oh!" she passionately broke forth, "that I had 
 the power to annihilate the very fragments of that 
 broken marriage tie and the very memory of it, in 
 her mind, and give her, all perfect as I shall make her, 
 into the hands of some nobler husband! But no! that 
 would not be a worthy revenge. 
 
 "To give her back, a pearl above price, to you, per- 
 haps! Can I do that? Can I conquer myself so en- 
 tirely? That would be a magnanimous revenge."
 
 LILITH 161 
 
 So ran the thoughts of the petted beauty, rioting 
 through a mind governed rather by feeling than by 
 reason, yet with much more of good than evil in it. 
 
 Meanwhile, Lilith, lying on the narrow sofa in her 
 state-room, gave way to one hearty fit of crying, and 
 then wiped her eyes, and began to try to understand 
 her position and her duty. 
 
 She was not jealous of the handsome baroness, 
 either. She remembered all her husband had told 
 her of his first fancy, of how harshly he had come to 
 judge her, and she fully believed that Madame Von 
 Bruyin deceived herself in imagining that Tudor 
 Hereward still continued to love her, or to entertain 
 other feelings than disapprobation and dislike 
 towards her. 
 
 Lilith now knew, from her intimate relations with 
 the baroness, that Mr. Hereward had greatly mis- 
 judged her; that she was not, and never had been, 
 the heartless coquette he had termed her; but that, 
 in spite of her training, she was a warm-hearted, gen- 
 erous and conscientious woman. 
 
 But the question now before Lilith was whether 
 she should continue with the baroness, and run the 
 risk of meeting Hereward in the court circle of the 
 city to which they were going, or whether she should, 
 on reaching Havre, take the first homeward-bound 
 steamer and return to New York and to the safe pro- 
 tection of Aunt Sophie's humble roof. 
 
 And though Lilith thought over this question and 
 prayed over it, yet she had come to no decision when 
 there came a rap, followed by the entrance of Lisette, 
 the lady's maid, who said: 
 
 "Madame has sent me to say that it is time for 
 dinner, and to see if I can assist you, madame." 
 
 "Thank you, no. I will be ready in a few minutes,' 7 
 replied Lilith, rising from her sofa, and beginning to 
 smooth down her dress and arrange her hair.
 
 162 LILITH 
 
 She soon completed her very simple toilet and went 
 out into the cabin, where she found the baroness wait- 
 ing for her. 
 
 The lady looked pale and grave, but otherwise as 
 usual. No one could have judged from her manner 
 the dread ordeal through which she was passing. 
 
 She looked searchingly into Lilith's face, and saw 
 there the traces of emotion but recently overcome. 
 She smiled softly, as she drew the girl's arm witliin 
 her own and whispered: 
 
 "We do not either of us look quite well, dear; but 
 n'importe the fault will be laid upon the sea! On 
 land, all our feminine troubles, for which we do not 
 wish to account, we explain by a headache. At sea, 
 all grievances of soul or body may be put down to 
 sea-sickness. Is a woman pale from vexation or dis- 
 appointment? She is only sea-sick. Is a man unable 
 to leave his berth in the morning, from having had 
 too much champagne over night? He is very sea- 
 sick, poor wretch! Come! let us go into the saloon." 
 
 There were very few people at the tables, and so 
 Madame Von Bruyin and her companion had a large 
 share of attention from the stewards. Yet they could 
 receive but little benefit from the sumptuous fare laid 
 before them, and they soon left the table for the upper 
 deck, where they sat late into the June night, watch- 
 ing the clear, star-lit heavens above and the bound- 
 less expanse of ocean below. 
 
 At eleven they retired to their berths. 
 
 And so ended the first day at sea.
 
 LILITH 163 
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 LILITH'S METAMORPHOSIS 
 
 THE run of the Kaiser Wilhelm was an almost ideal 
 voyage. After the first few hours, winds and waves 
 subsided. 
 
 On Sunday morning the voyagers arose to find them- 
 selves borne steadily onward over a summer sea, 
 under a sunny sky, freshened by a gentle breeze. 
 
 As this day was, so were all the succeeding days 
 of the voyage. 
 
 Only twice it rained, and then only in the night, 
 so that all the mornings were clear and fair. 
 
 Lilith was young, fresh and sensitive and so, not- 
 withstanding all her past griefs, disappointments and 
 humiliations, she enjoyed the voyage. 
 
 The baroness was very kind to her young com- 
 panion, and very delicate in making the gradual 
 change she had determined upon in her case. She 
 never said to the young creature in so many words: 
 "From this time you are my little sister;" but she 
 treated her with the free and fond affection due to 
 such a relationship. She never asked Lilith to per- 
 form the slightest service for her; but, on the contrary, 
 very often offered attentions to the girl wrapping 
 her shawl around her when they were going up on 
 deck, and showing her all the solicitous tenderness 
 of an affectionate relative. 
 
 Lilith was very grateful for all this kindness; nor 
 did its excess embarrass her in the least degree. She 
 had been used to the greatest care and the tenderest 
 love all her young days until the brief episode of her 
 married life; and she had no experience to teach her 
 that the baroness' treatment of her was not the treat- 
 ment usually bestowed by a lady upon her salaried
 
 164 LILITH 
 
 companion. So she accepted all the favors and all 
 the attentions of the great lady with gratitude and 
 enjoyment. 
 
 Their fellow-voyagers had not the least idea that 
 these two young ladies stood in the relations of em- 
 ployer and employed towards each other, but believed 
 them to be very young widowed sisters or dear friends. 
 
 There happened to be on board not one of Madame 
 Von Bruyin's own circle who was acquainted with 
 her family history and knew that she had no sisters. 
 
 The baroness happened to come on deck one morn- 
 ing with Lilith. 
 
 She sat down near a lady, who, after exchanging 
 salutations with the new-comer, said, politely: 
 
 "I hope, inadame, that your dear sister is not in- 
 disposed this morning, this fine, fine morning, that 
 she is not on deck." 
 
 "Thank you, she is quite well, only a trifle late in 
 rising; but Mrs. Wyvil is not my sister except in affec- 
 tion; though indeed there are few sisters so strongly 
 attached to each other as we are. Circumstances 
 have brought this friendly union about. We are both 
 orphans, without sister or brother; both widows with- 
 out children; we have, in fact, no family ties what- 
 ever. We are fast friends who have no one but each 
 other," Madame Von Bruyin explained, speaking pur- 
 posely so to one whom she knew to be one of the 
 busiest gossips among all the ladies of the first cabin. 
 
 After this there was much talk about the "roman- 
 tic friendship" existing between the two beautiful 
 young widows. This talk found its way from the 
 ladies' cabin to the gentlemen's saloon, where the 
 status of the two lovely widows w T as often canvassed. 
 Both were acknowledged to be "beautiful exceed- 
 ingly," and yet so different in style that there could 
 be no comparison between them one a tall and 
 stately blonde, the other a petite and graceful
 
 LILITH 165 
 
 brunette; so that they were relatively called Juno 
 and Psyche. Both were supposed to be enormously 
 rich great chances for "elegant but impecunious" 
 fortune-hunters. And more than one adventurer who 
 could not manage to approach the hedged-in royalty 
 on ship-board, determined to keep track of the beau- 
 ties in hopes of golden opportunities after they should 
 have landed on the other side. 
 
 Meanwhile Madame Von Bruyin and Lilith, uncon- 
 scious of the buzz of gossip, criticism and specula- 
 tion going on around them in cabin and saloon, kept 
 on the even tenor of their way, until one fine morn- 
 ing near the middle of June they awoke to find them- 
 selves at Havre. Their ship had arrived in the night 
 while they slept. 
 
 Lilith started up to look through the port-hole of 
 her state-room, but she could see nothing but the hulk 
 of another great steamer that lay close alongside. 
 
 She dressed herself with eager, childish haste to 
 go upon deck and look upon the shores of the old 
 world, so new to her, and which she had so longed 
 to see. 
 
 Such first sights are often a surprise and a disap- 
 pointment to the young traveler. They expect to see 
 something very new and very strange, instead of which 
 they see what seem to be very familiar objects all 
 sea-port towns are at first view so very much alike 
 in their general appearance. 
 
 When Lilith hurriedly dressed herself, and with- 
 out waiting for Madame Von Bruyin, hastened up on 
 deck, and Jooked around her, she saw what, as it 
 seemed to her, she must have seen a hundred times 
 before a harbor with a forest of shipping, docks 
 crowded with men, women and children, horses, mules, 
 carts and vans, and laden with bales, boxes, barrels 
 and bundles of merchandise; dingy warehouses ris- 
 ing to the sky, with dusty windows and many ropes
 
 166 LILITH 
 
 and pulleys reaching from roof to basement; beyond 
 these the crowded streets of the city. 
 
 "Why, but for that old tower in the distance, and 
 those old churches, this might be New York or Bal- 
 timore," said Lilith, unconscious of having spoken 
 out. 
 
 "Yes, my dear, at a very casual and superficial 
 glance; but wait until we get into the town. Then 
 I will show you some antiquities of the time of Louis 
 XL, when Havre was but a little fishing-hamlet and 
 never dreamed of becoming the great sea-port that 
 it now is," said the baroness, who had come quietly 
 up to the side of her young friend. 
 
 "Ah! but it is not beautiful to look upon from 
 this point," said Lilith. 
 
 "What sea-port town is? But it is interesting away 
 from the docks though I can well believe that the 
 ships, docks and warehouses are decidedly the most 
 interesting portion of the town to those busy business 
 men whom we see in the crowd there. But, as I said, 
 wait until we land and see the old city. And remem- 
 ber that beyond the city spread 
 
 'Thy corn-fields green and sunny vines, 
 Oh, pleasant land of France.' 
 
 I always enjoy the railway ride from Havre to 
 Paris. We will take that ride to-morrow, little beauty. 
 To-day we will do Havre." 
 
 "But, madame, I was thinking, as I have before 
 hinted to you, of returning to New York by the first 
 homeward bound steamer," said Lilith, deprecatingly. 
 
 The baroness turned suddenly around and stared 
 at her little friend for a moment, and then exclaimed : 
 
 "You must never think of doing such a thing! Why 
 have you ever thought of it?" 
 
 "Because you are going in the course of your travels
 
 LILITH 167 
 
 to the very city and court where you will be sure to 
 meet Mr. Hereward," said Lilith, hesitating over the 
 name. "And I should not like to seem to be follow- 
 ing him, after all that has passed," she added. 
 
 "Nonsense, my dear! We may make the tour of 
 the continent without going to that city. Or even if 
 we go there, we may see everything worth seeing 
 without meeting that man." 
 
 "But " 
 
 "I will hear no 'but,' my dear. You must not 
 leave me. You engaged to stay with me for twelve 
 months, unless our engagement should be annulled 
 by mutual consent. Now, I do not consent to any 
 such thing, my dear; and you, I know, are too hon- 
 est and honorable to break a contract. There has 
 been quite enough of that sort of thing in our lives, 
 at least in yours, without a new example. But there! 
 we will not discuss this matter further until we get 
 to our hotel. See! the plank has been laid and the 
 people are beginning to go on shore. Ah! Monsieur 
 Le Grange, will you be so good as to send Felix on 
 shore to engage two carriages? I shall then ask you 
 to attend Mrs. Wyvil and myself to the Hotel de 
 FEurope, where you will please engage rooms for us," 
 said the baroness, turning to her private secretary, 
 who had just stepped up. 
 
 The polite old gentleman bowed and bowed and 
 went away to perform his commission. 
 
 "We will go down and put on our wraps, my dear. 
 You need not take the trouble to pack or to remove 
 anything. I will leave Lisette in charge of our rooms 
 to do all that. Felix can see our trunks through the 
 Custom House, and then come on with Lisette and 
 all the other trumpery to the hotel." 
 
 Lilith followed her friend's advice and soon joined 
 her in the cabin, dressed for landing. 
 
 They went up on deck, and while they stood wait-
 
 168 LILITH 
 
 ing for the return of Monsieur Le Grange they ex- 
 changed good-byes with several fellow- voyagers who 
 were leaving the ship for various points. 
 
 At length Monsieur Le Grange came up, bowing. 
 
 "I have procured a very comfortable carriage which 
 awaits madarne, and I have sent Felix on to the Hotel 
 de 1'Europe to secure a suite of rooms that they may 
 be ready for madame, that she may not be kept wait- 
 ing." 
 
 "Thank you, monsieur; you have been very prompt," 
 said the baroness, graciously. 
 
 "Will madame now proceed to the carriage?" for- 
 mally inquired the precise old gentleman. 
 
 "If you please, monsieur. And will you do me the 
 favor to give your arm to Mrs. Wyvil?" inquired the 
 baroness, according to her usual custom, "in honor 
 preferring" lier protegee, to herself. 
 
 "I w r ill with pleasure do myself that honor, 
 madame," said the courtly old gentleman, first with 
 a deep bow to his patroness and then with another 
 to her protegee, as he offered the latter his arm. 
 
 "I have left everything here in charge of Felix and 
 Lisette, monsieur. They will follow in the second 
 carriage, as soon as our luggage can be got through, 
 to that you need take no trouble at all," the baroness 
 explained, as they left the steamer. 
 
 The old secretary then put both ladies into the car- 
 riage, seated himself beside them, and gave the order: 
 
 "To the Hotel de PEurope." 
 
 A few moments' drive through the narrow streets 
 brought them up to the fine hotel. 
 
 Their rooms were ready, so that there was but 
 little delay before they found themselves in posses- 
 sion of them handsome rooms they were, on the 
 second floor, fronting the street, very elegantly fur- 
 nished "chiefly with gilded mirrors," as the baroness 
 laughingly observed. But there were also luxurious
 
 LILITH 169 
 
 lounges and reclining chairs, downy cushions and has- 
 socks, and soft rugs, graceful draperies before doors 
 as well as before windows, and, in fact, all the refine- 
 ments of modern upholstery, better understood by the 
 French than by any other people. 
 
 Monsieur Le Grange had ordered the breakfast, 
 which was soon served in madame's small salon. 
 
 The two ladies had just time to lay off their bon- 
 nets and wraps, before it was placed on the table, 
 served in silver and Sevres china by the most ob- 
 sequious of gargons. The dainty new dishes, the deli- 
 cate rolls, the exquisite coffee, and the rare light wines 
 of the French breakfast, were all novelties in the ex- 
 perience of Lilith, and greatly enjoyed by her. 
 
 When the breakfast was over, the two ladies put 
 on their bonnets, and took the carriage that had been 
 engaged by Monsieur Le Grange, and, with him for 
 their cicerone, drove around the city to whatever they 
 considered worth looking at. 
 
 They visited the old churches of Notre Dame and 
 St. Francis, and the ancient tower of Franart. They 
 drove out to the picturesque suburbs of Ingouville 
 and Graville 1'Heure, lunched at the little cafe in the 
 last mentioned place, and finally returned to their 
 hotel in time for late dinner. 
 
 That evening, after Monsieur Le Grange had bidden 
 them good-night, Madame Von Bruyin and Lilith had 
 a final talk on the question of her Lilith returning 
 to New York or traveling over Europe with the 
 baroness. 
 
 The prospect of varied travel in company with her 
 charming friend had great attractions for Lilith, cer- 
 tainly, so that when the baroness put it to her heart 
 and conscience not to break the compact she had made 
 with so fond a friend, Lilith not only yielded the point 
 and consented to remain with the baroness, but she 
 did so with evident pleasure.
 
 170 LILITH 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin kissed her ardently to seal 
 the bargain, and they retired to bed in their adjoin- 
 ing alcoves. 
 
 Early the next morning the whole party commenced 
 their continental tour by taking the railway train to 
 Paris. 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 WORLD-WEARY 
 
 The memory of things precious keepeth warm 
 
 The heart that once did hold them. They are poor 
 
 That have lost nothing; they are poorer far 
 
 Who, losing, have forgotten; they most poor 
 
 Of all who lose and wish they might forget. 
 
 For life is one, and in its warp and woof 
 
 There runs a thread of gold that glitters fair, 
 
 And sometimes in the pattern shows most sweet 
 
 Where there are sombre colors. This thread of gold 
 
 We would not have it tarnish; let us turn 
 
 Oft and look back upon the wondrous web, 
 
 And when it shineth sometimes we shall know 
 
 That memory is possession. Jean Ingelow. 
 
 THE Baroness Von Bruyin and her suite reached 
 Paris about the middle of June. 
 
 They went first to the Splendide Hotel, Place de 
 1'Opera, at which Monsieur Le Grange had secured, 
 by telegraph, a handsome suite of apartments. 
 
 But they remained there only for a few days, until 
 a suitable house was procured on the Champs Ely- 
 sees to wich they immediately removed. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin was supposed, on account of 
 her recent widowhood, not to go into the gay world; 
 yet, somehow or other, as soon as she was settled in
 
 LILITH 171 
 
 her magnificent "hotel," she managed to see much! 
 of society, or what was left of society in the French 
 capital; for at this season the gay birds of passage 
 in the fashionable world were already pluming their 
 wings for flight to sea-side or mountain range for the 
 summer. Yet enough still remained to make life gay 
 in the gayest city of Christendom. 
 
 And though Madame Von Bruyin went to no balls 
 or large public receptions, yet she saw a great deal 
 of company both at home and abroad. And Lilith 
 was always by her side, not as her salaried compan- 
 ion, but as her friend and equal. 
 
 The court had not left Paris, and it was through 
 Madame Von Bruyin that Lilith obtained her first 
 entree into the "charmed" circle of Tuileries. And 
 no less from her freshness, her piquancy and sim- 
 plicity than from her rare beauty, la belle Virgin- 
 ienne became the fashion, just when the season was 
 wearing to its close and wanted a new sensation. 
 
 Somehow also the impression had got abroad that 
 Madame Wyvil was a very wealthy woman the 
 daughter of some New York merchant prince and the 
 widow of some California mine king. 
 
 Who was responsible for starting the story is not 
 certainly known; but it is undeniable that Madame 
 Von Bruyin chuckled a great deal over the hallucina- 
 tion, when she saw Lilith sought, followed, flattered 
 and fawned upon by impoverished nobles and im- 
 pecunious princes. 
 
 Lilith knew nothing of the romances in circulation 
 concerning her vast riches. The adulation she re- 
 ceived both pleased and pained her. No beautiful 
 girl of seventeen could be quite insensible or indif- 
 ferent to the homage of the world; homage that she 
 innocently supposed was paid to herself, rather than 
 to her imaginary wealth; but when she remembered 
 her position, she felt that she would gladly give all,
 
 172 LILITH 
 
 all this worship for one kind word, or glance, from 
 her alienated husband 
 
 "Coldly she turns from their praise and weeps, 
 For her heart 'at his feet' is lying." 
 
 She was often glad to get away from those court 
 circles though they were never gay scenes to es- 
 cape from everybody, even from her kindest friend, 
 Madame Von Bruyin lock herself up in her room 
 at night, and there in solitude and darkness forget 
 or ignore the cruel sentence that had banished her 
 from her beloved husband and her dear home; bridge 
 over the painful scenes that had marred the last 
 weeks of their wedded life and go back and live over 
 again in memory and imagination the brief, bright 
 days of their harmony and happiness, and recall the 
 few precious words of affection or approbation Tudor 
 Hereward had ever addressed to her. 
 
 How fondly, how vividly lying with her eyes closed 
 and her fingers laid upon her eyelids as if the better 
 to shut out the real world and the present time 
 how fondly and how vividly she recalled that day 
 when she sat all day long over the writing-table in 
 their room at the hotel, so busy at work for him, 
 so happy, ah! so happy to be of use to him, answer- 
 ing piles of letters that he had marked for her, copy- 
 ing the crabbed manuscript for his speech, looking 
 out authorities for his reference. 
 
 And when evening came and he returned from the 
 Capitol, and sank wearily into his easy-chair at the 
 table and slowly examined her work, and finally said : 
 
 "You have performed your task only too well. 
 . . . Your day's work has saved me from a night's 
 work, my little lady love." And he kissed her. 
 
 It was a precious memory. 
 
 How happy she was that day! How very, very 
 happy!
 
 LILITH 173 
 
 Again and again, through the power of memory 
 and imagination, in the silence and solitude of night, 
 she recalled and lived over that day and one or two 
 other days embalmed in her mind. 
 
 All these few happy days belonged to the month 
 of February the most sunshiny month of her year, 
 midwinter though it might have been to everybody 
 else. 
 
 During all the remainder of the season in Paris it 
 required all Lilith's tact to avoid receiving a direct 
 proposal of marriage from one or another of her for- 
 tune-hunting adorers. 
 
 At length she almost offended Madame Von Bruyin 
 by declining to go into company at all. 
 
 "They take me for 'a widow indeed,' madame, and 
 it becomes very embarrassing," she pleaded. 
 
 "Well, but, petite, we cannot explain; so what is to 
 be done?" inquired the baroness, laughing at the ab- 
 surdity of Lilith's dilemma. 
 
 "I do not know, unless I avoid society. I might 
 stay home when you go out, and keep my room when 
 you have company here," replied the girl. 
 
 "But I cannot consent to any such isolation on 
 your part. It would not be good for your health of 
 mind or body. Come, my dear, cheer up! Endure 
 the homage of the world for a few days longer only 
 for a few days, petite, and then it will be over. Paris 
 will be empty, and we ourselves will be inhaling the 
 mountain air of Switzerland," laughed the lady. 
 
 And Lilith, having no alternative, endured the tor- 
 tures of her false position until the fashionable world 
 had fled from town. 
 
 The baroness and her companion lingered a little 
 behind the others, in order that Madame Von Bruyin 
 might show Lilith all those places of interest which 
 a newcomer must see, but which had hitherto been 
 neglected for other and more social pastimes.
 
 174 LILITH 
 
 It was, then, near the end of July when they left 
 Paris for Switzerland. 
 
 They spent the months of August, September and 
 October in traveling over the north of Europe, halt- 
 ing at no point for more than three or four days. 
 
 In November they went to Rome, and sojourned 
 in the "Eternal City" until the first of January, when 
 they returned to Paris, where the Baroness Von 
 Bruyin, having laid aside her first mourning, plunged 
 into all the gayeties of the capital, taking her young 
 companion with her. 
 
 Everywhere they were very much admired. They 
 could not possibly be rivals, even when constantly 
 seen together. They were both so beautiful, yet their 
 style was so dissimilar, so well contrasted, that they 
 actually enhanced each other's attractions. 
 
 Lilith was no longer in danger of receiving embar- 
 rassing proposals of marriage. The same mysterious 
 agent which had started the report of her fabulous 
 wealth was most probably responsible for another re- 
 port, to the effect that the beautiful young widow 
 was about to bestow her hand and fortune upon an 
 eminent American statesman, to whom she had been 
 for many months engaged. But she was none the 
 less admired because she was inaccessible. 
 
 In February, however, the restless baroness, with 
 all her party, crossed the channel, and went to Lon- 
 don, to be in time to see the pageant of the queen's 
 opening of Parliament. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin, through her friends, obtained 
 admission for herself and protegee to the peeress' gal- 
 lery in the House of Lords, and from that vantage 
 point witnessed the imposing ceremony. 
 
 But in all the solemn magnificence of the scene 
 Lilith seemed to see only the queen, and through the 
 queen only the almost peerless woman, wife and
 
 LILITH 175 
 
 mother, and as Lilith gazed she sank into a dream of 
 Victoria's life. 
 
 Later on in the season our country-girl from West 
 Virginia saw the majesty of England once again. 
 
 It was on the occasion of the first drawing-room 
 of the season at Buckingham Palace, when Madame 
 Von Bruyin and her protegee were presented by the 
 wife of the German Ambassador. 
 
 After this presentation, the baroness, who had 
 taken a handsome furnished house on Westbourne 
 Terrace, and whose year of mourning had expired, 
 issued invitations for a large party, which she wished 
 to make the most brilliant of the season. 
 
 The baroness had passed two seasons in London. 
 The first as a debutante with her father, and a Ger- 
 man princess as a chaperone; the second as a bride, 
 with her newly married husband; and now in her third 
 season she entered society as a young, handsome and 
 wealthy widow, with a very extensive acquaintance. 
 
 She issued over five hundred invitations to her ball, 
 and these included many of the most distinguished 
 persons of the age, celebrities of high rank, of world- 
 wide scientific, literary, diplomatic or military renown, 
 the beauties anJ geniuses of the hour, and so forth. 
 
 The ball was to be a great success. 
 
 Lilith strongly objected to being present pleaded 
 earnestly to be relieved from attending it. 
 
 "Dear madame, I feel as if, in my circumstances, 
 I ought to live in strict retirement. I am not Mrs. 
 YVyvil. I am not a widow. I am Tudor Hereward's 
 repudiated wife. When I find myself in a ball-room 
 or in a drawing-room, surrounded by people who seem 
 anxious to do me honor I feel oh, I feel just as 
 if I were only a fraud, a humbug, an impostor, an 
 adventuress. And, oh! I feel so deeply ashamed of 
 myself and my false position! So humiliated and 
 degraded! I feel this even more deeply in these
 
 176 LILITH 
 
 English drawing-rooms than I did in the Parisian 
 salons. Oh, dear madame, pray do not insist on my 
 presence at your ball!" she prayed. 
 
 "Lilith, you are the most morbid creature I ever 
 met with in all the days of my life. You would like 
 to shut yourself up in a convent, I suppose, just 
 because that hateful man, after marrying you to be 
 revenged on me, has thrown you off to please him- 
 self!" exclaimed Leda Von Bruyin. 
 
 "Pray do not speak of Mr. Hereward in that way," 
 said the loyal young wife. 
 
 "I will speak of him as he deserves. I am begin- 
 ning to hate that man. Yes, and to hate myself for 
 ever having imagined that I liked him." 
 
 "Oh, Madame Von Bruyin!" 
 
 "It is true. The more I see of the world, the longer 
 I live, the more experience I gain, the more heartily 
 I dislike that man, and dislike myself for ever hav- 
 ing fancied that I liked him," exclaimed the baroness. 
 
 "I am very sorry you feel so," said Lilith. 
 
 "Sorry! Sorry that I have ceased to be in love 
 with your husband, Lilith? Well, you are an oddity!" 
 
 "Oh, no, not sorry for that! Glad thankful for 
 that! But very sorry that you cannot feel friendly 
 towards him!" 
 
 "Bah! what a baby you are! He himself once 
 quoted this line to me: 
 
 'Friendship sometimes turns to love, 
 But love to friendship, never!' 
 
 And it does not! It dies out in indifference, or it 
 turns to hate and scorn, and self-scorn as well!" 
 
 "Ah, madame " commenced Lilith. 
 
 " *Ah, madame,' " mocked the baroness. "Look 
 here, my dear, I have known, and I thank Heaven 
 that I have known one unselfish man who loved with-
 
 LILITH 177 
 
 out self-love! And he was Nicholas Von Bruyin. 
 And the more I see of other men, the more I love and 
 honor him. Mr. Hereward certainly suffers in that 
 comparison. But to return to the subject of the ball, 
 Lilith, my dear, I really cannot consent to your absent- 
 ing yourself." 
 
 "But, madame " 
 
 "But, nonsense! If you are in a false position it 
 it not one of .your choosing. Your husband has 
 forced you into it. If you are called Mrs. Wyvil, it 
 is because your husband has forbidden you to bear 
 his name, and you are so meek as to obey him. And 
 if you seem to be a widow, it is because he has made 
 you one in fate if not in law. But you shall not 
 'wear the willow' for his undeserving sake! You 
 shall enjoy life as your youth and beauty entitle you 
 to do. And I will protect you in this. Do not fear 
 to be embarrassed by any more proposals of mar- 
 riage. That embarrassment is forestalled. You are 
 understood to be engaged to an American statesman 
 of high rank. And that is also true, is it not? You 
 do consider yourself most solemnly engaged, yes, 
 most solemnly and eternally engaged, to that man. not- 
 withstanding his repudiation of you, do you not?" 
 
 "Yes, madame! But I wish you would not call 
 Mr. Hereward 'that man,' " said Lilith. 
 
 "Very well! Since you object, I will call him this 
 man! And while we are objecting, let me tell you 
 that I object to your calling me 'madame,' as if * 
 were somebody's aunt or grandmother! I am only 
 about three years older than you are. And I call 
 you 'Lilith,' do you observe? And my name is Leda; 
 though I am likely to forget it, for since my father 
 and my husband died there is no human being in 
 the world left to call me Leda, unless my chosen friend 
 and sister will do so," said Madame Von Bruyiu, with 
 a touch of pathos in her tone.
 
 178 LILITH 
 
 "I will go to your ball, Leda," said Lilith, conced- 
 ing both points in her gentle answer. 
 
 The ball was to be a great success, and it was a 
 great success. 
 
 Lilith was exposed to another complication. She 
 was in danger of being "taken up" by a certain dis- 
 tinguished clique, patronized by a certain august per- 
 sonage, and being turned into a "professional beauty." 
 
 And the baroness made the conquest of an Italian 
 prince, of about her own age, of much grace, beauty 
 and accomplishments; of what is much rarer in con- 
 tinental princes great wealth also, and of a family 
 who claimed to read their title clear through all the 
 centuries of recorded history, back into the age of 
 fable and chaos, where all things are void or misty. 
 
 Prince Otto Gherardini as a matter of detail. 
 
 This fascinating young Florentine was in personal 
 appearance and temperament so diametrically an- 
 tagonistic to the charming baroness that they were 
 inevitably destined to be attracted to each other, as 
 positive and negative in electricity. 
 
 Therefore it followed that at their very first meet- 
 ing the dark, graceful, fiery Italian youth became 
 desperately enamored of the fair, stately, serene Ger- 
 man lady. 
 
 After the ball, the baroness and her protegee were 
 inundated with invitations to all sorts of entertain- 
 ments, so that had they accepted every one, between 
 garden parties, morning concerts, five o'clock teas, 
 dinner parties and balls, they would have had 
 scarcely an hour to call their own. 
 
 Liiith, with her saddened heart, sank from all these 
 social excitements and dissipations, yet, being irre- 
 sistibly borne on by the imperious will of the baroness, 
 she was drawn into the maelstrom. 
 
 Gherardini, with Italian subtlety, contrived to meet 
 the baroness everywhere, so that gossip soon con-
 
 LILITH 179 
 
 nected their names, and the world looked forward to 
 the announcement of their betrothal. 
 
 The baroness laughed at him, as a boy, behind his 
 back, but treated him as a prince before his face. 
 
 Lilith secretly hoped that they might marry, and 
 be happy, so that she herself might be at liberty to 
 return to New York and rest in Aunt Sophie's quiet 
 though humble home. 
 
 So the London season drew to its close. The an- 
 nouncement of the marriage of Prince Otto Ghe- 
 rardini with the Baroness Von Bruyin, arranged to 
 come off early in the ensuing year, appeared in the 
 Court Journal, and in the society columns of other 
 London papers. It took no one by surprise, not even 
 Lilith. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin and her suite left London for 
 a short tour in Wales and Cornwall, and spent a few 
 pleasant and healthful weeks in leisurely travel 
 through that beautiful, picturesque and legendary 
 land. 
 
 In September they halted, and took lodgings at a 
 farm-house near the mountain village of Llandorf. 
 
 There the} 7 settled down for a brief period to enjoy 
 the simple country life of the neighborhood. 
 
 Lilith, world-weary and heart-sick, felt the benign 
 and soothing influence of nature around her, and re- 
 signed herself to rest if rest might be granted her. 
 
 It was now eighteen months since she had been 
 driven from her home. In all this time she had never 
 once heard from her husband, and only once had she 
 heard of him; and that was when she learned from 
 Madame Von Bruyin that Mr. Hereward had been 
 appointed Secretary of Legation to the Court of 
 
 . Since that day, fifteen months ago, no sign of 
 
 his existence had appeared to her. In vain she 
 searched all the insular and continental papers. His 
 name never by any chance appeared in any paper.
 
 180 LILITH 
 
 Did Lilith resign all hope of ever hearing of him, 
 seeing him, being reconciled to him again? 
 
 Ah, no! Though hope was only torture now, she 
 could not help but entertain it. A thousand times 
 she had said to herself: 
 
 "There is not the slightest possibility of such hap- 
 piness for me. I am dead to my husband! Yes, I 
 am dead to him, as I could never have been had only 
 a natural death divided us, and not a spiritual one. 
 I shall never meet him again, neither in this life nor 
 the life to come." 
 
 But though she continually said this to herself, 
 and though she tried to school her heart to believe 
 it, yet, yet, she could not resign hope, for "While 
 there is life there is hope" "Hope springs eternal 
 in the human breast." And so, though hope was 
 anguish, she could not give it up. 
 
 One lovely day, near the last of September, Lilith 
 was sitting alone in the little parlor of their lodgings. 
 She had drawn her chair to the window to sit and 
 enjoy the fine view of mountain, lake and wood 
 stretched out before her. 
 
 The breakfast table was set, but Madame Von 
 Bruyin, who was a late riser, had not come down. 
 
 While Lilith sat there gazing from the window, 
 and waiting for her patroness, the old postman for 
 that neighborhood came up the garden walk, and 
 seeing her at the window, nodded pleasantly, and 
 stopped to deliver his mail. 
 
 He laid a pile of letters and papers on the sill, 
 nodded and smiled again, and turned away. 
 
 Lilith looked over the superscriptions of the letters. 
 They were all for Madame Von Bruyin, Monsieur 
 Le Grange, the lady's maid or the footman. There 
 was not one for Lilith. Nor was she disappointed. 
 There seldom was a letter for her, so she did not ex- 
 pect one.
 
 LILITH 181 
 
 She placed the letters on the breakfast table, and 
 turned to look at the papers. 
 
 She took up the Times first, of course, and she 
 turned first to the foreign and diplomatic news, hop- 
 ing against hope as she had done a thousand times 
 before that she might see her husband's name, if it 
 were only a line in the list of guests at some State 
 dinner, or in any casual event. 
 
 But no! There was nothing! She was again dis- 
 appointed, as she had been a thousand times before. 
 
 Wearily, drearily her sad eyes wandered over the 
 paper, indifferent now to anything she might find 
 there. 
 
 Yet great Heaven! What was this? Not the 
 name of Tudor Hereward! No; but the answer to 
 a daily, nightly agonized prayer to Almighty God! 
 or so it seemed to Lilith's amazed vision. Daily 
 and nightly, in her morning and evening worship, 
 for the last two years, Lilith had prayed: 
 
 "Have mercy, oh, Father, upon all poor prisoners 
 and captives; upon all miserable criminals and con- 
 victs; bringing the guilty to a profound contrition, 
 to pardon and to peace; bringing the innocent to a 
 full vindication, deliverance and salvation." 
 
 And these words, upon which her wandering eyes 
 became fixed in astonishment, seemed the answer to 
 that prayer. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 "A FULL VINDICATION" 
 
 SUCH was the heading of the article that riveted 
 the attention of Lilith and that read as follows: 
 
 "A deplorable instance of the conviction of an in- 
 nocent man, under false circumstantial evidence, of
 
 182 LILITH 
 
 a crime that first consigned him to the scaffold, and 
 afterward, by the commutation of his sentence, sent 
 him to penal servitude for life, has lately come to 
 light. Many of our readers will remember the case of 
 John Weston, the young man who was convicted, 
 eighteen years ago, of the robbery of the mail coach 
 running between Orton and Stockbridge, Yorkshire, 
 and the murder of a passenger. The young prisoner 
 declared his innocence to the last, but through the 
 overwhelming circumstantial evidence he was con- 
 victed and condemned to death. Great efforts were 
 made in his behalf, and finally, upon account of his 
 youth and previous good character, his sentence was 
 commuted to transportation, with penal servitude for 
 life. He was sent to Tasmania, where it is believed he 
 died soon after his arrival at Port Arthur. 
 
 "But that John Weston was entirely guiltless of 
 the crime for which he suffered is made quite clear 
 by the ante-mortem confession of a convict named 
 Thomas Estel, who died yesterday in the infirmary 
 of Portland prison. 
 
 "This man, convicted of forgery one year ago, was 
 almost immediately after his commitment to Port- 
 land discovered to be in a consumption, and assigned 
 to the infirmary, where, after languishing for nearly 
 twelve months, he died yesterday. 
 
 "His ante-mortem confession, made in the pres- 
 ence of the prison chaplain, the governor of the jail, 
 and a justice of the peace, is as follows: 
 
 "I, Thomas Estel, of the city of Carlisle, being 
 sound of mind, though very infirm of body, and be- 
 lieving myself to be about to appear before the 
 tribunal of my Eternal Judge to give an account of 
 the deeds done in the flesh, do now make this my 
 last statement and confession, concerning a crime 
 committed on the Orton and Stockbridge road, on 
 the night of November the 13th, 18 , the robbery of
 
 LILITH 188 
 
 the mail coach and the murder of a passenger at that 
 time and place. 
 
 "And these were the circumstances under which the 
 deed was done: 
 
 "There was a young gentleman of the West Rid- 
 ing, a little wildish in his ways young Mr. James 
 Hawkhurst, nephew and heir to Squire Hawkhurst, 
 of Hawkhurst. 
 
 "This uncle had made a will, disinheriting him, 
 leaving all his property to hospitals, which he had 
 no right to do, seeing that, although the estates were 
 not entailed, yet they were the Hawkhurst family 
 estates, and should have gone to the heir-at-law, 
 young James Hawkhurst. 
 
 "This wicked will was understood to be in the 
 hands of the family solicitor, one John Keitch, of 
 Carlisle. 
 
 "Old Squire Hawkhurst lay dying at Hawkhurst 
 Hall, and the vicar wrote to the solicitor to come 
 down to the Hall, and to bring the will along with 
 him. 
 
 "The solicitor wrote back that he should come down 
 by the late train to Stockbridge and arrive by the 
 mail-coach at Orton on the night of that 13th day of 
 November. 
 
 "Now, the disinherited heir, young Mr. James, was 
 drinking with a lot of us wild young blades at the 
 Tawny Lion public house at Orton. And he told us 
 all about it. We talked about the injustice of the 
 old squire in having robbed young Mr. James of his 
 inheritance in order to give it to hospitals. And 
 we argued this way: that as the squire had not made 
 the fortune himself, but had received the estate from 
 a long line of forefathers, so it was his bounden duty, 
 in common honesty, to pass it along to their descen- 
 dants, and that if it were not for the existence of that 
 wicked will, the last of the line, the young squire,
 
 184 LILITH 
 
 would enjoy his own, because he was next of kin, and 
 heir-at-law. 
 
 "We all loved the young squire, because he made 
 himself one of us and had no pride, and we knew 
 that was the chief reason why the old squire disin- 
 herited him. So he was in a measure suffering for 
 us. 
 
 "After a little while Mr. James left us, but we all 
 kept drinking and arguing and getting ourselves up 
 more and more into a mad excitement, until one of 
 us I do not remember now which it really was pro- 
 posed that we should all go in a body and stop the 
 coach that ran between Stockbridge railway station 
 and Orton, and take that will away from the lawyer 
 and destroy it, so that our young squire might en- 
 joy his own. 
 
 "We were all mad drunk, or we would have re- 
 membered that our proposed adventure was really 
 highway robbery a felony punishable, it might be, 
 with transportation for life instead of being the 
 brave, heroic exploit we in our madness believed it 
 to be. 
 
 "We, five in number no matter who the others 
 were I confess only my own part procured masks 
 and fire-arms, and on the night in question we started 
 out on our adventure. 
 
 "On the road we met young Joseph Wyvil, who 
 had just come from Scotland, to which he had run 
 away to marry his sweetheart. He did not belong 
 to our part of the world, though he was known to 
 most of us. He was a wild one, up to any sort of 
 fun, ready for any sort of frolic, but not bad. 
 
 "He gave us good e'en, and asked us, 'Where 
 away?' And we told him we were going on a glorious 
 lark, and asked him to come along with us, but we 
 would not tell him, no, nor give him a hint of what 
 our adventure was to be.
 
 LILITH 185 
 
 "First he said he could not, that 'LiP that was 
 his wife was expecting him; but at last he consented. 
 
 "I do think it was curiosity more than anything 
 else that made him join us! Poor fellow! I have 
 had many a heartache for him. He kept on asking 
 us in his smiling way where we were going? What 
 we were going to do? 
 
 "But we only laughed and told him to come and 
 see. And his curiosity was worked up to such a high 
 pitch that he did come to see. 
 
 "We reached at last a favorable part of the road 
 for our enterprise. Not one of us thought it would 
 end as badly as it did. We only wanted to destroy 
 the wicked old squire's will. 
 
 "We got to the place where we meant to stop the 
 coach. 
 
 "It was where the road went down into a deep- 
 wooded hollow. There were thick, heavy woods on 
 each side. It was as dark as pitch. 
 
 "We halted and stretched a strong thick rope, three 
 times doubled, across the road, tying the opposite ends 
 to the trunks of trees. 
 
 "And then we waited for the coach. 
 
 "That poor Joe Wyvil kept on asking us what we 
 were up to. 
 
 "And we telling him to wait and see. 
 
 "And his curiosity was so intense that he did wait 
 and see, though all the time he kept blaming himself 
 and saying that 'LiF would be looking for him and 
 wondering why he did not come. 
 
 "Ah, poor boy! And poor girl! He never went 
 back to 'Lil.' 'LiP was doomed to look and wonder, 
 and wonder in vain. He waited to see what we were 
 up to. Waited to his own ruin. 
 
 "Ah, yes! the fate of that poor, rollicking, good- 
 natured young Joe has set heavier on my conscience 
 than the death of that old scoundrel of a lawyer;
 
 186 LILITH 
 
 for his death was an accident, after all, though, as it 
 occurred while we were trying to get at the wicked 
 will, it was construed murder. 
 
 "We waited there for the coach longer than we 
 expected to have done. It was behind time. I asked 
 in a whisper if anybody had a watch. 
 
 "Joe said that he had one. He took it out, and I 
 struck a match and looked at the hour. It had gone 
 eleven. Joe started up and said he must go, or 'Li'f 
 would think 'he was never coming home.' Seems to 
 me we sometimes utter prophecies unawares. 
 
 "Joe was really going that time, but almost at the 
 same moment the sound of wheels was heard and 
 the light of the lantern was seen. 
 
 "Several of us spoke out at once, telling him to 
 sit down quietly and wait five minutes and then he 
 might go. He dropped down again on his seat be- 
 side the road. 
 
 "The coach came on very fast, as if to make up 
 for lost time, the light of the lantern shining like 
 two fiery eyes through the darkness of the night in 
 the narrow, wooded road. 
 
 "On it came at full speed, the leaders stepping 
 high, until suddenly they struck the barrier of ropes 
 we had stretched across the road, reared, plunged, 
 overturned the coach, extinguished the lanterns, and 
 all was instant confusion, men swearing, women 
 shrieking, horses struggling. 
 
 "This was much worse than we had intended. We 
 wished to stop the coach and get the wicked will, 
 not to upset it at the risk of the passengers' lives. 
 
 "We immediately surrounded the wreck. 
 
 "I struck a match, and keeping the black crape 
 well over my face, leaving only one eye uncovered, I 
 peered into face after face of the fallen passengers, 
 until I found my man, the lawyer from Carlisle, with 
 the old squire's wicked will in his possession.
 
 LILITH 187 
 
 " 'Hand out that beastly will and you shall not be 
 hurt; but if you don't ' 
 
 "He instantly drew a pistol, aimed it at my head 
 and cocked it. 
 
 "I struck the weapon up with a swift stroke of my 
 hand. 
 
 "Heaven knows I never meant to harm the man, 
 but the pistol went off, and he fell, shot through the 
 brain, as I afterwards learned. I did not know it 
 then. I was mad with drink, I repeat, and what little 
 mental power I had left was occupied with the will. 
 I got it! It was safe in my hands. I hid it in my 
 bosom. 
 
 "I hardly noted the increased confusion that was 
 all around me, until one of my companions took me 
 by the arm and whispered, hurriedly: 
 
 " 'Are you dead? What's the matter with you? 
 There's murder done! The posse is upon us! Run!' 
 
 "It was true. The terrible noise had been heard 
 even from that lonely road, the alarm had been given, 
 and the constabulary force of the neighborhood, with 
 all the stragglers that could be picked up at that 
 hour, were coming. 
 
 "We made off into the thick woods that bordered 
 the road, and made good our escape into the woods 
 that bordered the road on either side every one of 
 us, except that poor boy who had nothing to do with 
 the crime. 
 
 "I got off to America; for being the most deeply 
 in for it, I knew I must put the broad ocean between 
 me and my native land. 
 
 "I led a wandering life over there that of honest 
 work sometimes, that of doubtful speculation often; 
 was a billiard marker in Chicago, a bar-tender in San 
 Francisco, a digger in the silver mines of Colorado. 
 
 "It was years before I heard what had become of
 
 188 LILITH 
 
 my comrades in that fatal night's adventure. I feared 
 that some of them had been caught, tried and sent 
 to penal servitude; but I never once imagined that 
 any harm could have come to young Wyvil, who was 
 not in it at all, and only happened to be in our com- 
 pany by accident, and somewhat against his will, and 
 in total ignorance of our intention to stop the coach 
 that night. 
 
 "But one day, about seven years after I had left 
 England, and while I was in Colorado, I fell in with 
 an old neighbor from Orton. He, too, had corne to 
 seek his fortunes in the new world and had drifted 
 out to the silver mines. 
 
 "It was the first home-face I had seen since I had 
 left the country. It was a great meeting, I can tell 
 you. I scrutinized Stone's face to see if he suspected 
 me of complicity in that highway robbery and mur- 
 der, and I was satisfied that he did not. 
 
 "I asked after old friends and acquaintances 
 parents or near relatives I had none to inquire of. 
 
 "He told me of this, that, or the other person, 
 married, dead, emigrated, or remaining as before. 
 
 "Finally I asked, in turn, about the comrades who 
 had been with me on that fatal night, and learned to 
 my astonishment that they were living and prosper- 
 ing on their small farms on the great Hawkhurst 
 estate. It was therefore evident that they had never 
 been suspected. 
 
 "His mention of the Hawkhurst estate led me on 
 to inquire who ruled at Hawkhurst now. 
 
 "He replied that the young squire did, of course; 
 that no will had been found and Mr. James had en- 
 tered into possession as next of kin and heir-at-law, 
 and everybody was satisfied. 
 
 "So far our mad adventure had been successful, at 
 least. The heir enjoyed his own and no great harm 
 had been done, except the accidental death of that
 
 LILITH 189 
 
 old scoundrel, so far as I knew then. And I might 
 have remained in that happy belief if it had not been 
 for my next question. 
 
 "I asked him if anything had ever been found out 
 concerning the parties who had stopped the mail 
 coach that dark November night. 
 
 "He said that the robbery was believed to have 
 been committed by the pit men, who were on a strike, 
 and known to be a most lawless set, fit for any sort 
 of violence; but though several of them had been ar- 
 rested on suspicion, nothing could be proved, and they 
 had to be released. And as for young Joe, he was 
 game to the last. 
 
 "Young Joe! The name went through my heart 
 like a sword! I trembled when I asked Stone if he 
 meant Joe Wyvil, and what he had to do with the 
 affair. 
 
 "And then he told me all the terrible truth! that 
 young Wyvil had been the only one of all the gang 
 who had stopped the mail-coach to be arrested. That 
 the roughs had escaped into the woods, but that lie 
 had been taken 'red-handed' on the spot where the 
 lawyer fell. 
 
 "I inquired what explanation the unhappy boy had 
 given of his presence there. 
 
 "The man told me that he had given no satisfac- 
 tory account of himself whatever that he had most 
 earnestly asserted his innocence, and his appearance 
 on the scene of the murder as a mere accident, owing 
 to his having met a party bent on a 'spree,' and joined 
 them. He was game to the very last. 
 
 "With a great sinking of the heart, I next inquired 
 of Stone what had been the fate of young Wyvil, and I 
 dreaded to hear his answer as if it had been a sentence 
 of death. And, indeed, in one respect it was a sen- 
 tence of death. 
 
 "He told me that the vouth had been tried for
 
 190 LILITH 
 
 murder, but not under the name of Wyvil. The 
 name he had given was that of John Weston, and as 
 there was nobody to contradict him, he being but a 
 stranger to most people in the neighborhood, as John 
 Weston he was convicted and condemned to death. 
 But on account of his being a mere boy, with noth- 
 ing against him before that, and on some other ac- 
 count, his sentence was commuted to transportation 
 and penal servitude for life, and that he had been 
 shot dead while trying to make his escape, or so it 
 was reported. 
 
 "So of the crime in which five men had been im- 
 plicated no one had been suspected, and no one 
 punished but the innocent boy who knew nothing 
 about it. 
 
 "Finally I asked Stone what had become of <Lil.' 
 the poor boy's wife. 
 
 "He informed me that her brother, another Joseph 
 Wyvil and a cousin of the prisoner, had come and 
 taken her away, and it was reported that he had taken 
 her to America. 
 
 "This was all my old neighbor had to tell me. And 
 soon after, the fortunes of war in the mines sep- 
 arated us, he going farther up the country. 
 
 "We never met again. 
 
 "About two years ago my health began to fail. I 
 was attacked with this disease of the lungs that had 
 carried off both my parents before they had reached 
 their fortieth year (consumptives ought never to marry 
 each other, anyway). I knew I did not need the 
 doctor to tell me the truth, and so I did not tempt 
 him to tell me a pious, professional lie. I knew by 
 family experience that I was booked for the last jour- 
 ney, and just about how long it might be. 
 
 "I was seized with a homesick longing to see once 
 more the English village in which I was born and
 
 LILITH 191 
 
 brought up, and where my old friends lived, if any 
 remained. 
 
 "So, about eighteen months ago, I sailed for 
 England in one of the fast-sailing ocean steamers. 
 And when we landed in Liverpool I took the first ex- 
 press train for Carlisle, got out at the Stockbridge 
 station and took the same coac'h, or one exactly like 
 the same coach, that I and my reckless companions 
 had helped to wreck, that fatal 13th of November, 
 seventeen years before. I went over the same road 
 at the same hour, and put up at the Tawny Lion, 
 where the coach stopped, and where we, reckless 
 young roughs, had laid the plan to recover the wicked 
 will which had ended in such a tragedy. 
 
 "But, oh! the changes in seventeen years! The 
 Tawny Lion had passed into strangers' hands. Very 
 few of my old friends were left. I went to see the 
 young squire at Hawkhurst. Quite a middle-aged 
 squire now, a sedate magistrate and sub-lieutenant 
 of the county; married and surrounded by a large 
 family of sons and daughters. He was very glad to 
 see me, although he could never have suspected that 
 it was to my hand he owed the destruction of that 
 will which left him to inherit his own, as next of kin 
 and heir-at-law. 
 
 "I did not stay at Orton long. I went up to Lon- 
 don; and there, as you know, I was soon arrested 
 for forgery, tried, convicted, and sentenced to penal 
 servitude. 
 
 "But, gentlemen, as I maintained during my trial, 
 I maintain here, on my death-bed, I never committed 
 that forgery. What call had I to forge a check for 
 a miserable five-pound note, when I had a plenty of 
 money made in the mines? 
 
 "No; as I told the judge and jury though they 
 would not believe me I now tell you with my part- 
 ing breath, I cashed that check to accommodate a
 
 192 LILITH 
 
 gentleman who was a guest in the same hotel with' 
 myself. I gave him five sovereigns for his forged 
 check, not suspecting it to be forged, and in a day 
 or two after presented it at the bank for payment, 
 and was nabbed. 
 
 "Though I told my tale, I was not for a moment 
 believed. No gentleman answering to his descrip- 
 tion could be found. I was the scapegoat, and here 
 I am. Not so badly off. Not worse than I should 
 be in a hospital. I have not done a day's penal ser- 
 vitude, but have had my long illness and slow pas- 
 sage to the grave soothed and cared for by physician 
 and chaplain. 
 
 "I never meant to be wicked; but when I think 
 of the fate to which I brought young Joe Wyvil I 
 feel as if I were much better off than I deserve to 
 be, even though dying in a prison infirmary. 
 
 "I thank the officers of this prison, and especially 
 I thank tke chaplain and the doctor for their great 
 goodness to me; and I pray the Lord to forgive the 
 sins of my youth. THOMAS ESTBL." 
 
 Thus ended the dying man's confession, which was 
 duly sworn to, witnessed, signed and sealed. 
 
 A few lines at the end of the article testified, on 
 the authority of the prison officers, to the uniformly 
 exemplary conduct of Estel while in confinement, his 
 patience under long and painful illness, his humility, 
 resignation and gratitude for the least favors.
 
 LILITH 193 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 COMING TO A CRISIS 
 
 Look forward what's to come, and back what's past; 
 Thy life will be with praise and prudence graced; 
 What loss or gain may follow thou mayst guess; 
 Then wilt thou be secure of the success. 
 For on their life no grievous burden lies 
 Who are well natured, temperate and wise; 
 But an inhuman and ill-tempered mind 
 Not any easy part in life can find. 
 Lords of the world have but of life their lease, 
 And this, too, if the lessor please, must cease. 
 The youngest, in the morning, are not sure 
 That till the night their life they can secure. 
 
 Sir I. Denham. 
 
 AFTER reading that strange confession, Lilith sat 
 in a trance of delight so rapt that in it she forgot 
 every source of trouble to herself. 
 
 Now the guiltless was vindicated. Now the secret 
 that had weighed her young life almost down to death 
 might be told. Now the sorely persecuted yet withal 
 light-hearted and joyous exile and w r anderer might re- 
 turn to his own a free and justified man. 
 But where was he? 
 
 Lilith did not know. She could not even conjec- 
 ture. He might not be living. He was young, in- 
 deed, but life is uncertain at all ages, and his was a 
 very careless and adventurous life. 
 
 It was now more than eighteen months since Lilith 
 had heard from him. 
 
 On that fatal March 21st, when her husband had 
 driven her away, she had received a letter from the 
 wanderer, saying that he was en route for Chicago, 
 and appointing the Personal column of the Pursuivant 
 as the medium of their correspondence.
 
 194 LILITH 
 
 But after having been banished by her husband 
 on account of this very wanderer, whose sacred claim 
 on her he could not understand, Lilith had conscien- 
 tiously abstained from using the Personal column of 
 the Pursuivant for opening any communication with 
 the banned exile. 
 
 Indeed, as it will be remembered, Lilith had never 
 sought intercourse by letter or otherwise with the 
 mysterious stranger who laid so much stress upon 
 his natural right to her duty. In every case it was 
 he who had sought her, often to her great peril, and 
 always to her distressing embarrassment. 
 
 But, though Lilith had abstained from all attempts 
 to open a correspondence with him, yet she had 
 regularly searched the papers for any possible news 
 of the poor stroller, but without success. 
 
 At first she had wondered much at his utter silence, 
 but since hearing the report of her own death she 
 understood that silence; she knew that he believed 
 in the truth of that report. Yet still she had not 
 sought to communicate with him, even for the pur- 
 pose of announcing her continued existence, though 
 she knew what joy such news must bring to his lonely 
 heart. Her fidelity to the husband who had repudiated 
 her was so perfect! 
 
 Yet now that the fugitive from justice (or from 
 injustice) was fully vindicated now that the secret 
 might be told, the mystery cleared up she must seek 
 to communicate with the wanderer, and immediately. 
 
 Two courses were very urgent the first to get that 
 published confession into the hands of the wanderer; 
 the second to get an interview with her husband. 
 Yet, no! She dared not seek the latter. If it had 
 only been the fatal secret which had parted them, 
 then, indeed, she might have written to him or sought 
 his presence, and said: 
 
 "The mystery that raised a cloud between us has
 
 LILITH 195 
 
 been cleared away, and I shall be justified in your 
 sight." 
 
 But it was not only the secret which had divided 
 them. 
 
 It was his antipathy to her his incurable antipathy 
 expressed in his words bitter, burning words 
 that had branded thmselves upon her soul: 
 
 "I never loved you. I married you only to please 
 my dying father. . . . In a few hours I shall leave 
 this house, never to return while you desecrate it with 
 your presence." 
 
 No! In the face of such a sentence she could not 
 seek to see Tudor Hereward. All womanly delicacy 
 forbade the step. 
 
 But she must bring this published, vindicatory con- 
 fession to the attention of the exile, who had for 
 more than eighteen years lived under a false charge 
 and false conviction, an outcast from society, a wan- 
 derer over the face ofr the earth. 
 
 Lilith roused from her trance and acted promptly. 
 
 She cut the slip containing the confession from the 
 paper, and then sat down at the little side table on 
 which her traveling portfolio lay, and wrote this per- 
 sonal for the Pursuivant: 
 
 "MAZEPPA J. W. J. W. A. A. A. M. L. Z. 
 
 Send your address to E. W. H., Poste Restante, Paris, 
 Search Pursuivant for news." 
 
 Having written this, she took another sheet of 
 paper, and wrote a letter to the editor of the Pursui- 
 vant, inclosing the slip of paper containing the con- 
 fession of Thomas Estel, and asking him, in the name 
 of justice and humanity, to give it a place in his 
 columns; or if he thought it a matter of not sufficient 
 interest for the reading public, at least to put its 
 purport in a few lines that might meet the eyes of 
 an unhappy fugitive, suffering under the blight of
 
 196 LILITH 
 
 a false conviction. She enclosed the whole in one 
 envelope, but did not seal it, for it was necessary that 
 she should get a letter of credit to send with it to 
 pay for the advertisement. 
 
 She had scarcely finished her v/ork when the 
 baroness entered the parlor. 
 
 "Writing so early in the morning, mignonne? The 
 mail must have brought you important news," said 
 the lady, as she sank languidly into an easy chair. 
 
 "It has, madame! News that will oblige me to go 
 to Chester to-day, if you can spare me," said Lilith. 
 
 "Why, of course. I must spare you, petite, if you 
 have affairs. You can take Monsieur Le Grange to 
 escort you, if you please," said the baroness, kindly. 
 
 "If monsieur would be so good I should be very 
 grateful," began Lilith. 
 
 "Bon jour, mesdames! In what manner can I be 
 so happy as to serve you?" inquired the gallant old 
 Frenchman, who entered at this point of the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 "Mrs. Wyvil has business in Chester to-day, and 
 would be glad of your escort, if you could find it con- 
 venient to attend her," said Madame Von Bruyin. 
 
 "I shall find myself most happy, most honored," 
 replied Monsieur Le Grange, with a bow. 
 
 "Touch the bell, if you please, monsieur; it is with- 
 in your reach," said the baroness. 
 
 The Frenchman rang, and breakfast was imme- 
 diately served. 
 
 A messenger was dispatched to bring a carriage 
 from the "Llewellyn Arms," the only hotel in the 
 village. 
 
 And as soon as the morning meal was over Lilith 
 prepared for her journey. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin was not without her share of 
 feminine curiosity; but she refrained from asking 
 questions, and occupied herself with opening and read-
 
 LILITH 197 
 
 ing her letters there were seven from her princely 
 lover, and one from an eminent Paris man-milliner or 
 ladies' tailor, whichever you please, with whom she 
 was in correspondence on the subject of her trousseau. 
 
 Lilith and Monsieur Le Grange appeared in the 
 parlor equipped for their journey at the same moment 
 that the fly from the hotel drew up at the door. 
 
 "I shall return as soon as possible, madame, and I 
 hope our absence will not inconvenience you," said 
 Lilith. 
 
 "Enjoy yourselves, mes enfans!" said the baroness, 
 gayly. "I shall occupy myself with answering letters." 
 
 The two travelers took leave and departed on their 
 journey. 
 
 Llandorf was distant five miles from the nearest 
 railway station; and it took the one-horse fly from 
 the Llewellyn Arms a full hour to get there. Fortu- 
 nately, they were in time for the eleven o'clock ex- 
 press. 
 
 Monsieur Le Grange made a bargain with the fly 
 to meet them again on the arrival of the seven o'clock 
 train, and then took tickets and put his companion 
 into a coupe, which he shared with her. 
 
 A two hours' rapid ride through the most pictur- 
 esque part of Wales brought them into the ancient city 
 of Chester. 
 
 At Lilith's request, they went first to the Bank of 
 Wales, where she obtained her bill of exchange, 
 which she enclosed with her letter, advertisement, 
 and so on, in the large envelope, directed to the edi- 
 tor of the Pursuivant. This done, they went to the 
 post-office, posted the letter and then drove to the 
 Grosvenor Hotel, where they took lunch. 
 
 At five o'clock they took the express train back to 
 the station, where on their arrival they found the fly 
 from the Llewellyn Arms waiting for them. 
 
 In another hour they had reached the farm-house
 
 198 LILITH 
 
 where it pleased the Baroness Von Bruyin to rusticate 
 for a season. 
 
 The lady, who affected rural hours, had dined early, 
 and was waiting tea for them. 
 
 She asked no questions, though still very curious 
 to know what was the nature of that business which 
 had taken her young friend off so suddenly. 
 
 Lilith, totally unconscious of madame's silent curi- 
 osity, gave no sign. 
 
 After tea the professor read to the two ladies for 
 some hours. Then the party separated and retired 
 to rest. 
 
 Lilith, having done all that lay in her power to do, 
 under the circumstances, impatiently waited for re- 
 sults. 
 
 Weeks passed away, and the baroness began to 
 weary of the rural life that at first had pleased her 
 so much. 
 
 It was now late in October, and the weather was 
 growing cool. Pony rides among the mountains and 
 rowings on the lake were not such delightful recrea- 
 tions as she had found them earlier in the season. 
 
 In a word, Madame Von Bruyin was tired of 
 Llandorf, and longing for Paris weary of the world 
 of nature, and sighing for the world of society. 
 
 One morning she suddenly announced her inten- 
 tions : 
 
 "We will go to Paris on the first of November. 
 A proper trousseau cannot be arranged entirely by 
 correspondence. If we get settled by the first week 
 we shall have a clear month before the gay season 
 begins. What do you say, niignonne?" 
 
 "I am ready, madame," answered Lilith, so cheer- 
 fully that the lady could not doubt the sincerity of 
 the girl's assent. Lilith was also anxious to be in 
 the French capital in time for any answer that might 
 come to her advertisement for the wanderer, whom
 
 LILITH 199 
 
 she had notified to address all communications for 
 her to the Poste Restante, Paris. 
 
 Monsieur Le Grange, who added to his duties of 
 secretary those of courier and general utility, was 
 instructed to make immediate preparations for their 
 journey. 
 
 On the thirty-first of October, being All-Hallow 
 Eve, the party left Llandorf for Southampton, and 
 on the evening of the first of November they reached 
 Paris. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin's house on the Champs Elysees 
 had been put in order for her reception, in obedience 
 to a telegram from Monsieur Le Grange, so that the 
 travelers at once found themselves at home in com- 
 fortable and luxurious quarters. 
 
 The day after their arrival Lilith went to the post- 
 office to inquire if any letters had arrived directed to 
 E. W. H. 
 
 She received an answer that there were none. 
 
 Disappointed, she returned home, and spent the 
 remainder of the day in driving about with Madame 
 Von Bruyin among the most fashionable shops. 
 
 The woman of vast wealth displayed, perhaps, more 
 extravagance than taste in the selection of her cos- 
 tumes. She carried in her hand a slip cut from a 
 newspaper, describing at great length, and very 
 minutely, the dresses and jewels of some "royal high- 
 ness," who had just married an imperial prince, and 
 she was resolved to have fac-similes of each dress, 
 with additional dresses of, if possible, still more beau- 
 tiful styles and more expensive materials. 
 
 Her interviews with Worth, Pingen and other 
 "celebrated" man-milliners or ladies' tailors (as you 
 please) occupied her the whole day, so that late in 
 the evening she returned with Lilith, almost ex- 
 hausted with fatigue. 
 
 As that day passed, so passed many others.
 
 200 LILITH 
 
 Lilith, on going early in the morning to the post- 
 office to inquire for letters directed to E. W. H., would 
 meet nothing but heart-wearying disappointment, and 
 on returning home would be required to attend 
 Madame Von Bruyin on her round among jewelers, 
 milliners and modistes. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyiu, with the most amiable in- 
 tentions, embarrassed Lilith very much by forcing up- 
 on her costly presents in jewelry, Indian shawls, dress 
 patterns, and so forth; for how could the wealthy 
 and good-natured baroness make such magnificent 
 purchases for herself, and before the eyes of her 
 pretty young companion, and not give her beautiful 
 adornings? And though Lilith shrank from these 
 offerings, and declared that such splendors were not 
 suited to her condition, the baroness persisted in 
 pressing them upon her, declaring that they were all 
 most peculiarly fitted for her, having been designed 
 and manufactured to adorn youth and beauty just 
 such as hers. 
 
 As day after day passed with the disappointment 
 of the morning, and the wearying round of the after- 
 noon, Lilith grew heart-sick and brain-sick over it 
 all. The splendors of the preparations for the ap- 
 proaching wedding were in such dissonance to her 
 anxious and despairing mood that, young and beau- 
 tiful as she was, she began to take a strong distaste 
 to finery, and to wish herself among the plain Metho- 
 dists of Aunt Sophie's humble boarding-house. 
 
 Lilith longed for sobriety and repose, while her life 
 seemed to pass in whirlwind and lightning. 
 
 She had formed her resolution, however, and it was 
 this: 
 
 If she should hear from the wanderer she would 
 send him to Mr. Hereward to divulge his secret, now 
 no longer needing to be kept, to justify her conduct,
 
 LILITH 201 
 
 and leave it to her husband to seek her if it should 
 please him to do so. 
 
 Or if she should hear nothing from the wanderer 
 up to the time of Madame Von Bruyin's marriage, 
 she would, on that occasion, only wait until the bride 
 and bridegroom should have left Paris, and then she 
 would run down to Havre by rail and take the first 
 homeward-bound steamer to New York. 
 
 Sometimes she wondered why the baroness never 
 seemed to take any interest or to care to ask any 
 questions in regard to her young companion's future 
 plans. But she supposed that Madame Von Bruyin 
 was too much absorbed in her own interesting pros- 
 pects to think of anybody else's. 
 
 In this supposition, however, Lilith did her friend 
 but scant justice. 
 
 The baroness in her secret heart had quite set- 
 tled the question of her companion's future, and had 
 no suspicion that Lilith would raise any objection to 
 her plan or that it was even necessary at present 
 to allude to it. 
 
 The day of explanation soon came, however. 
 
 It was Sunday. They could not go out shopping. 
 They attended church in the forenoon, and, after an 
 early dinner, lounged about in Madame Von Bruyin's 
 boudoir. Letters had been left for the baroness on 
 the previous day, but she had returned from her 
 shopping too tired to examine any of them except 
 those addressed in the handwriting of the prince, her 
 betrothed, which she had read with avidity; the 
 others she had pushed aside until a more convenient 
 season. 
 
 Now, on this Sabbath afternoon, her languid eyes 
 fell upon the little heap of letters still lying upon her 
 writing-table. 
 
 "Nothing more interesting than circulars from 
 tradespeople, I fancy," she said, as she lazily picked
 
 202 LILITH 
 
 them up and passed them through her fingers as if 
 they had been a pack of playing cards. 
 
 "Ah! but here is one for you, petite, directed to 
 my care ! I am sorry I did not find it yesterday, when 
 I should have given it to you. It bears the New York 
 postmark, and is perhaps from the good Aunt Sophie, 
 who is, I believe, your only correspondent in the 
 world. Is it not so?" said the baroness, as she held 
 the letter out to Lilith, who came eagerly forward 
 to claim it. 
 
 Yes, it was from Aunt Sophie. 
 
 And while Madame Von Bruyin opened and glanced 
 over her own hitherto neglected correspondence, 
 Lilith opened and read Aunt Sophie's simple epistle: 
 
 "NEW YORK, October 21, 18. 
 
 "MY DARLING CHILD: I take this favorable oppor- 
 tunity to rite to you to inform you that we are all in 
 good helth, thanks be to the gracious Lord, and hoping 
 that this letter may find you and the barreness enjoy- 
 ing the same rich blessing. 
 
 "My dear child, I have not received any letter from 
 you sence I rote to you last September, which I think 
 my letter must of miscarryed or else the ship must 
 of been shiprecked. Oh, do rite to me and tell me 
 how you are and when you are coming home, for you 
 know this is your home, my darling child and honey. 
 There is an interesting young man here, who have 
 taken Mr. More's room which he left when he got 
 married, you know, and he is a very hopeful young 
 man, indeed, which I hope he will make a powerful 
 minister some of these days, though he says he is 
 not worthy to black a Christian minister's boots. He 
 saw your photograf on the mantlepiece one day and 
 took such an interest into it and read the dedercation 
 on the back, where you know you rote To my dear 
 Aunt Sophie, from her loving child, and he asked
 
 LILITH 203 
 
 me most a hundred questions about you and I tolde 
 him all I knowd. He is a Perfeck Gentleman and his 
 name is a Mister Ansolong. I dont know as I spell 
 it rite because I never saw it rote but thats the way 
 it sounds. Well honey we are all going on very much 
 in the same way as when you left. Mrs. Farquier I 
 think is agoing to be married to Elder perkins of our 
 church. I don't holde with second marriages myself, 
 but everybody must walk accordin' to their own lites. 
 Brother More has done a good work for the Lord 
 and brought a menny wandering sheepe into the fold. 
 But you know his term with us will soon be out and 
 I hope and pray as the Conference will send him 
 back to us but after all we mussent lean too much 
 on the Arm of flesh knowing who is Our Helper. 
 I do wish as that dear Mister Ansolong would enter 
 the ministry. What a preacher he would make! He 
 reads the Bible like an Angel! It is enough to make 
 one Cry to hear him. But he says he has not studied 
 and I tell him that Peter and John and James and 
 their bretheren never studied because there want any 
 collidges in their days but he up and put it to me 
 that John and James and they had the best of all 
 teaching in tke pursonal presence and example and 
 instruction of Our Saviour. And there he got the 
 better of me which only makes me feel surer w r hat a 
 powerful preacher he would be if he only had the 
 Holy Spirit. But there, my darling child, I am run- 
 ning on until this shete of paper though it is foolscap 
 is almost full so I must finish, with praying that the 
 Lord will bless you. Give my Love to the dear bar- 
 reness and tell her the money she giv me to spend 
 on the poor Street children is doing a good work and 
 Brother More is drawing up a Report to send her, 
 with the names and histories of the children Beni- 
 fitted. So no more at present from your Affectionate 
 Friend SOPHIE DOWNIE."
 
 204 LILITH 
 
 Lilith read this letter with a joy scarcely less pro- 
 found and grateful than that with which she had read 
 the vindicatory confession of the convict, Thomas 
 Estel. 
 
 Ancillon was still living; he had not fallen a vic- 
 tim to any deadly fever of the South, or to the knife 
 of any border ruffian of the West; he had not per- 
 ished in any railroad collision or steamboat explo- 
 sion; and these were the only perils which, in Lilith' s 
 opinion, could end a life so young and sound as his 
 was. He still lived, and in his adventurous or drift- 
 ing life had drifted into the calm haven of Aunt 
 Sophie's home. 
 
 It was very curious that he should have done so, 
 Lilith thought; but, then, experience shows us many 
 curious coincidences in life. 
 
 She wondered whether he had seen her advertise- 
 ment in the Pursuivant, or whether, since he had 
 given her up for dead, he had not ceased to search 
 the Personal column, which was to have been their 
 medium of communication when far distant from 
 each other. But even if he had neglected that par- 
 ticular column in which her one advertisement was a 
 standing item, still he must have read other portions 
 of the paper, and so must have seen the account of 
 the convict's ante-mortem confession, which cleared 
 John Weston from all complicity in the crime for 
 which he John Weston alone had suffered; and yet, 
 perhaps, he might have missed that one paper, or 
 even in reading it, he might have overlooked that one 
 article, so full of importance to him. 
 
 At all events it appeared that he had not seen either 
 the standing advertisement in the Personal column or 
 the copied account of Thomas Estel's ante-mortem 
 confession. 
 
 He was still lingering at Mrs. Downie's quiet house 
 in New York City. And Lilith's joy and gratitude
 
 LILITH 205 
 
 at having a sure clew to the wanderer was so great 
 as to exceed her surprise and wonder at the manner 
 in which it was recovered. 
 
 She determined to write by the first mail to Mrs. 
 Downie and to Alfred Ancillon. 
 
 So absorbed was she in the subject of her thoughts 
 that she did not perceive that Madame Von Bruyin 
 had been watching her attentively for some moments, 
 until at length that lady spoke. 
 
 "Lilith," she said, "you must have received some 
 very happy surprise in your letter, to judge by the 
 rapt delight of your face." 
 
 "I have," replied the young creature, in a joyous 
 tone. "I have received news of a long absent and 
 very dear relative, from whom I had not heard for 
 nearly two years. I had feared he was dead; but he 
 is living, in good health, at Aunt Sophie's house." 
 
 "Ah! I congratulate you, my dear. So this letter 
 is from Aunt Sophie, as I supposed. How is the dear 
 woman?" sympathetically inquired the baroness. 
 
 "Well as ever, thank Heaven, always well. She 
 sends you messages of love and gratitude. Would 
 you like to see her letter?" said Lilith, holding out 
 the paper. 
 
 "No, dear; I have seen letters enough for one eve- 
 ning. That good Aunt Sophie! There she is, always 
 confined to one narrow round of duties. I wonder 
 if she would not like to see more of the world? Could 
 not she come out to us, if I were to send her an excur- 
 sion ticket? Could not she leave the quiet, well- 
 ordered little household in the hands of one of those 
 matronly widows who, having lived so long with her, 
 seem to be of the same family? What a delight it 
 would be to show her Paris! What do you think, 
 Lilith?" 
 
 "It would indeed be most delightful! And, indeed, 
 although it does not seem so at first view, I think it
 
 206 LILITH 
 
 would be quite practicable. Aunt Sophie is such a 
 brave, enterprising little woman. I even think she 
 need not cross alone. I think Mr. Ancillon, my rela- 
 tive, may be coming over on business and may bring 
 her." 
 
 "Enchanting! And they can both stay here and 
 take care of you while Gherardini and myself are on 
 our wedding tour. Ridiculous etiquette, a wedding 
 tour." 
 
 "But, madame," said Lilith, in a tone of surprise, 
 "do you really wish to keep me on after your mar- 
 riage?" 
 
 "I wish, and with your consent I intend, to hold 
 you, as a dear sister, under my immediate protection 
 as long as we both shall live, or until you shall be 
 claimed by Tudor Hereward, in the case of his re- 
 pentance, or by some better man in case of Hereward's 
 death." 
 
 "But, madame " 
 
 "There, there, mignonne, do not let us dispute to- 
 night. It is time to go to bed. Write to-morrow 
 to your friend Mrs. Downie, and invite her here in my 
 name. To be present here at my marriage. And to 
 take care of you during my absence. Put the last- 
 mentioned reason strongly, as to be of use would be 
 a great inducement to that dear, unselfish soul! 
 There are people, Lilith, who must be convinced 
 that they are doing something of utility for some- 
 body else before they can be persuaded to enjoy 
 themselves. Convince this dear Aunt Sophie that you 
 will need her, and she will come over and enjoy sight- 
 seeing in Paris with all the zest of youth. I will get 
 Le Grange to see about the ticket to-morrow, so that 
 you can inclose it in your letter." 
 
 "But suppose, after all, she should not come? The 
 ticket will be lost," said Lilith. 
 
 "Well, the steamship company will gain. That is
 
 LILITH 207 
 
 all," replied the baroness, rising and putting her fair 
 hand over her lips to conceal a yawn. 
 
 At this unmistakable sign of weariness, Lilith took 
 the hint and rang the bell for the servants to close 
 up the apartments. 
 
 In a few minutes the friends had retired. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 SURPRISE ON SURPRISE 
 
 THAT letter and that ticket were destined never to 
 be sent! 
 
 The next morning, while Madame Von Bruyin, 
 Lilith Hereward, and Monsieur Le Grange were seated 
 at breakfast together, a card was brought in on a 
 silver waiter and offered to Lilith. 
 
 She picked it up and read: 
 
 SENOR ZUNIGA. 
 
 And underneath, in brackets, the lightly-penciled 
 name of Alfred Ancillon. 
 
 Lilith could scarcely suppress a cry as she started 
 to her feet. 
 
 "What is the matter?" inquired the baroness. 
 
 "My relative from New York has arrived!" joy- 
 fully exclaimed Lilith. 
 
 "Indeed! I congratulate you. Go to him at once, 
 my dear," said the baroness, cordially. Then turning 
 to the page, she inquired: 
 
 "Where have you shown the gentleman, Henri?" 
 
 "Into the small salon, madame," replied the lad. 
 
 "Quite right. Attend Madame Wyvil thither. Go, 
 my dear. Do not keep your friend a moment wait- 
 ing," said the baroness, sympathetically. 
 
 Lilith left the room, attended by the page, and
 
 208 LILITH 
 
 crossed the hall to enter the small salon overlooking 
 the Champs d'Elysees. 
 
 The young page opened the door for lier to pass 
 in, and then closed it and retired. 
 
 Mr. Alfred Ancillon, or Sefior Zuniga, stood in the 
 middle of the bright room, looking the image of 
 glorious, immortal youth. 
 
 He came eagerly forward and opened his arms. 
 
 Lilith fell upon his bosom in a passion of joyous 
 sobs and tears. 
 
 He embraced her warmly, straining her to his heart, 
 pressing kisses on her face, before either of them 
 spoke a syllable. 
 
 Their first utterances were almost incoherent in 
 their gladness. 
 
 "Oh, thank Heaven that you still live!" 
 
 "Thanks be to the Lord that I find you safe, my 
 darling child!" 
 
 "At last! Oh, at last you are vindicated!" 
 
 "Restored to life, almost from the grave. Oh! my 
 child!" 
 
 "By what happy chance did you drift into Aunt 
 Sophie'* house?" 
 
 "I will tell you presently, my dear, for " 
 
 "And how is dear Aunt Sophie?" 
 
 "You must judge for yourself, darling! Look up! 
 There there she is!" 
 
 Lilith lifted herself from the senor's breast and 
 turned her head to see a round, black bundle of a 
 little old woman, on the bottom of an easy-chair, un- 
 roll itself and come towards her in the form of Mrs. 
 Downie. 
 
 Yes, it was indeed Aunt Sophie! There was the 
 same soft, round form, the same careless though clean 
 black gown and shawl, the same little mashed black 
 silk bonnet, the same smiling, babyish old face, with 
 its fair skin, blue eyes and rumpled gray hair. It
 
 LILITH 209 
 
 was dear Aunt Sophie in person, wonderful as the fact 
 appeared. 
 
 With a half -suppressed cry of joy Lilith ran to her, 
 caught her in her arms and covered her face with 
 kisses, while Aunt Sophie cried quietly without speak- 
 ing a word. 
 
 Presently Lilith led her to a seat on the sofa and 
 sat down beside her, holding her hand, gazing into 
 her sweet old face, and uttering her delight in frag- 
 mentary words. 
 
 "How comes it that I have the joy of seeing you? 
 It was only yesterday evening that I got your dear 
 letter. This very day I was going to write to you 
 to come here to us. Was not that strange? But 
 you always anticipated my wishes, did you not? But 
 what happy inspiration, what angel sent you here?" 
 
 "Why, it was him," replied Aunt Sophie, simply, 
 pointing to the senor. "He fetched me. I believe 
 he could persuade anybody in this world to do any- 
 thing he wanted. And all in such a hurry, too! I 
 never made up my mind so quick in all my life be- 
 fore; and never shall in all my life again. I declare 
 I was on board of the ship before I well knowed what 
 I was doing." 
 
 The Senor Zuniga broke into one of Alfred Ancil- 
 lon's joyous bursts of laughter as he explained: 
 
 "If I had given her time to reflect she might have 
 hesitated to come. If I had not hurried her out of 
 her senses I could not have brought her. Hear! I 
 saw your advertisement in the Personal column of 
 the Pursuivant, by chance, just thirteen days ago. I 
 saw that it had been in for some weeks, though I had 
 not observed it. This was on Tuesday. I reflected 
 that I could go to you in person as quickly as I could 
 communicat'e with you by letter, so I made up my 
 mind to sail the next day by the City of Paris. The 
 steamers from America to Europe are not crowded
 
 210 LILITH 
 
 at this season, whatever the steamers from Europe 
 to America may be. I went to the agent's office, feel- 
 ing sure of getting berths, and I got them. I got 
 two tickets, one for myself and one for Aunt Sophie, 
 for I felt sure of persuading her to accompany 
 me " 
 
 "He could persuade any mortal man or woman to 
 do anything he wanted them to do," put in the old 
 lady. 
 
 "Well, you may call it whim, eccentricity or in- 
 spiration, but I felt a great desire to take Mrs. Downie 
 with me, and I was resolved to gratify that desire." 
 
 "Yes, he did," again put in Aunt Sophie. "He come 
 right in the kitchen, where I was sitting down with 
 a blue check apron on, paring apples to make pies 
 for dinner; for, my dear, he went all over the house 
 like a tame kitten; and he says to me all of a sudden: 
 
 " 'I want you to let the house take care of itself 
 and go to Europe with me to-morrow morning to see 
 your favorite' (that was you, my dear). 
 
 "And I declare I was so startled I give a jump 
 and let the pan fall, and the apples rolled all over 
 the kitchen floor. Asking me all in a minute to go 
 to Europe with him to-inorrow as if it had been going 
 to Harlem or Brooklyn!" 
 
 Again the irrepressible laughter of the serior burst 
 forth as he said: 
 
 "Well, you are not sorry you came?" 
 
 "Oh, no! But, goodness, child, think of it! I, who 
 had lived nigh seventy years in this world without 
 ever going more than fifty miles from home, and that 
 only once in my life, to be asked all of a sudden to 
 go to Europe next day!" 
 
 "It was startling!" said Lilith, smiling. 
 
 "Startling! And then to hear him talk. Why, to 
 hear him you would think to go from New York to
 
 LILITH 
 
 Havre was no more than to row across a river. Then 
 he got my boarders on his side. I think they thought 
 it was fun. And they all got me in such a whirl 
 that I hardly kuowed whether I was awake or asleep. 
 And before I rightly knowed what I w r as about I was 
 on the steamer and out of sight of land!" 
 
 "I hope you left them all well at your house," said 
 Lilith. 
 
 "Oh, yes, honey, all mons'ous well. Mrs. Farquier 
 is going to be married to Elder Perkins, of our church. 
 I believe I told you in my letter." 
 
 "Yes, you did." 
 
 "Well, child, he is rich awful rich. And they 
 are to be married next spring. He is a building of 
 a fine new house way up town, facing on the Park, 
 and soon as it's finished and furnished they're going 
 to be married and move right in. She's giv' up her 
 employment, and hasn't got much to do; so she offered 
 if I would only go along of this young gentleman 
 to Europe, how she would keep house for me until I 
 come back. She is a dear, good woman and deserves 
 all the prosperity she will have." 
 
 "So you need have no anxious cares about the 
 house," said Lilith. 
 
 "No, honey. And I expect I shall feel right down 
 well satisfied, once I get settled. But I was that 
 whirled around before I started that I hardly knowed 
 what I was doing of, or even who I was. Now what 
 do you think? When I opened my trunk to get out 
 a change of clothes, what do you think I found out!" 
 
 "I do not know," said Lilith, smiling. 
 
 "Well, I found that I had left behind my Sunday 
 gown that black silk gown as I have worn to church 
 more years than I remember." 
 
 "That was unlucky; but never mind; you must have 
 a new one. Silk is cheap in Paris." 
 
 "Yes, honey, but that is not the worst of it. In-
 
 LILITH 
 
 stead of my own Sunday gown, what do you think 
 I had packed away in my trunk?" 
 
 "A common gown?" 
 
 "No, child! But poor, dear, young Brother Bur- 
 ney's best black trousers, as I had taken out'n his 
 room that very morning to clean for him, with ben- 
 zine. And what he'll do for a decent pair to wear 
 to church, I don't know; for he's only got one more 
 pair, and they are patched awful, so as when the 
 wind blows well, I have to pin the flaps of his coat 
 together. 'Deed I am mons'ous sorry I took his 
 trousers. I hope he will never s'picion as I pawned 
 'em or anything." 
 
 "Of course he won't. But who is Brother Bur- 
 ney?" inquired Lilith. 
 
 "Oh, a hopeful young brother as is studying for 
 the ministry. He has got the little teenty room at 
 the end of the passage in the third story. And I 
 reckon he's very poor. Ah me! I am sorry about 
 them there trousers." 
 
 Here Lilith bent and whispered to Aunt Sophie: 
 "We could send him, anonymously, a letter of credit 
 for fifty or a hundred dollars, to get him a complete 
 outfit." 
 
 "Could we, now? Without letting him know where 
 it comes from? Without hurting his feelings? For 
 it's very hard to be beholden, you know. Hard for 
 a gentleman, let alone how poor he may be." 
 
 "We can fix it, Aunt Sophie; a letter shall go out 
 to him this very day. And now I want you to come 
 into ray room and take off your bonnet. You will, 
 I am sure, excuse us," said Lilith, turning with a smile 
 to the senor. 
 
 "I will go back to the hotel, where I have some 
 business to attend to. I will call later to pay my 
 respects to Madame Von Bruyin," said Zuniga, as he 
 arose and prepared to leave.
 
 LILITH 213 
 
 "But hadn't I better be going, too? The baroness 
 might think I was intruding," said Aunt Sophie, un- 
 easily. 
 
 "Indeed she will not! She will be rejoiced to see 
 you. She commissioned me to write to you, and urge 
 you to come over to us." 
 
 "She did?" cried Aunt Sophie, in amazement. 
 
 "Indeed she did! I was to have written to you this 
 very day, as I told you. Come, now, into mj room 
 and take off your bonnet and consider yourself quite 
 at home; for I know the baroness will not allow you 
 to return to the hotel," said Lilith. 
 
 "I will bid you good-morning," said the senor, 
 bowing. 
 
 "Stay one moment! Will you now release me from 
 my promise? May I now tell the secret?" demanded 
 Lilith, in an eager whisper. 
 
 "Yes! You might have given it to the winds, had 
 you chosen, on the day that you read Estel's confes- 
 sion. You might have known then that it would be 
 quite safe to do so." 
 
 "Yes, but I had not then been released from my 
 promise." 
 
 "That, my child, shows a morbid conscientiousness 
 in you. You were morally released from the moment 
 that I was vindicated. Good-morning, my brave girl! 
 I will see you later! By the way, though where is 
 your husband?" he suddenly stopped to ask. 
 
 "Still at the Court of , I think, where he has 
 
 been Secretary of Legation for nearly two years." 
 
 "Do you ever hear from him?". 
 
 "Never." 
 
 "Does he know that you are living?" 
 
 "I think not." 
 
 "Then I exonerate him. I have a great deal to say 
 to you, my darling, which I must defer for the present. 
 Good-morning again."
 
 LILITH 
 
 And the senor bowed himself out. 
 
 Lilith took Aunt Sophie's hand and led her across 
 the hall to a beautiful chamber with an alcove. 
 
 She gave the good woman a soft easy-chair, and 
 then with her own hands took off her bonnet and her 
 shawl, and made her comfortable. 
 
 "Now, have you been to breakfast, Aunt Sophie ?'" 
 
 "Yes, honey, at the hotel! And such a breakfast! 
 Instead of good, wholesome tea and coffee and beef- 
 steak, and buckwheat cakes, there was wine, if you 
 believe me! And oranges, and grapes, and figs, and 
 kickshaws! And I tried to be polite and 'do at Rome 
 as the Romans do,' but la! I tasted the wine, and 
 it tasted for all the world like vinegar and water, 
 and sugar of lead! And I asked, please, mightn't 
 I have a cup of coffee, and the waiter, as they called 
 the gosling, or something like that " 
 
 "Wasn't it the gargon?" 
 
 "Yes, gosoon, and he did go soon! He was spry! 
 He asked me, 'Caffynore or caffylay,' and I had a 
 hard time to make him understand that I didn't want 
 no caffy at all, nor any other of their foreign wines, 
 but just coffee, and I did get it at last, just about 
 the splendidest cup of coffee as ever I tasted in all' 
 my life. I would have asked the gosling how they 
 made it; but, law! he couldn't understand more'n half 
 I said to him. The ignorance of these foreigners is 
 amazing. A 'Merican child three years old could have 
 understood what I said better than he did. But the}' 
 know how to make good coffee." 
 
 "But you could not breakfast entirely on coffee, 
 Aunt Sophie." 
 
 "No, no, honey; but they had good bread, too ex- 
 cellent bread, and nice fresh butter. And so, you 
 see, I didn't suffer. And they had a number of dif- 
 ferent sorts of stews, or hashes, I should call them, 
 but the gosling called them awful hard names. They
 
 LILITH 
 
 smelt mighty nice, all of 'em, but I was afeard to 
 ventur' on any of 'em. I was afeard of frogs. And 
 that gosling was always a sticking one or other of 
 them stews under my very nose, too." 
 
 "Well, Aunt Sophie," you need not be afraid of 
 anything you may find on our table, though we have 
 a French chef." 
 
 "A French shay? That may be good to ride in, 
 but what has that got to do with cooking, honey?" 
 
 "I should have said a French cook." 
 
 "Oh, I see. It was a slip of the tongue." 
 
 "Did you have a fine voyage, Aunt Sophie?" 
 
 "Splendid." 
 
 "And you were not sea-sick?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I was. For two days I was just as sick 
 as if I had taken an old-fashioned dose of calomel 
 and jalap. And I think it did me a heap of good, 
 too, for after I got over it I was that hungry! In- 
 deed, I was so hungry I was ashamed to eat as much 
 as I wanted. And all the rest of the voyage I thought 
 more of eating than of anything else in the world." 
 
 "When did you reach Havre?" 
 
 "Yesterday; and it so happened as there was a 
 train for Paris in an hour afterwards; so we took that 
 train and came right on, and got here last night. We 
 slept at that hotel, and, if you please to believe me, 
 I had one of the goslings for a chamber-maid. I don't 
 like foreign ways, myself." 
 
 "Never mind, dear; you will be more comfortable 
 with us. But now tell me, Aunt Sophie, did you know 
 that the senor was a near relation of mine?" 
 
 "What makes you call him the sinner, honey? He's 
 no more of a sinner than the rest of us, I reckon. 
 We are all sinners, for that matter." 
 
 "I said senor, Aunt Sophie, which is all the same 
 as if I had said Sir or Mr." 
 
 "Oh! Well, I shall never get used to foreign words.
 
 216 LILITH 
 
 Yes, honey, he did tell me; but not till he had pumped 
 me of every single thing I knowed about you. Then, 
 to account for his curiosity, he told me as you was 
 a very near and dear relative of his'n as he had given 
 up for dead." 
 
 "How did he come to board at your house? He is 
 not a minister or a theological student." 
 
 "No, honey; but he do look just like a preacher. 
 Don't he, now?" 
 
 "Perhaps." 
 
 "Well, my sign is always out, you know, and he 
 saw it, and wanting board, he stepped up and rang 
 the bell, like any other applicant. Anyways, that's 
 how he came into the house, and he looked so much 
 like a hopeful young minister of the Gospel that I 
 took him, without once remembering to ask for his 
 references. Afterwards he happened to see your 
 photographs on the mantelpiece, and he took it down 
 and gazed at it, and read your writing, and seemed 
 so upset I didn't know what to make of him. And 
 he asked about one hundred questions about you, and 
 I told him all I knowed. Then he let on as you was 
 a near relation of his'n," said the old lady, as she 
 settled herself comfortably in her chair. 
 
 "Thank you, dear Aunt Sophie. And now if you 
 will excuse me for a few moments, I will go and let 
 the baroness know that you are here. She will be 
 delighted," said Lilith, rising, and leaving the room 
 to tell the good news.
 
 LILITH 217 
 
 ANCILLON S REVELATIONS 
 
 Doubt is the effect of fear or jealousy, 
 
 Two passions which to reason give the lie; 
 
 For fear torments and never doth assist; 
 
 And jealousy is love lost in a mist. 
 
 Both hoodwink truth and play at blind man's buff, 
 
 Cry "Here" and "There," seem quite direct enough;. 1 
 
 But all the while shift place, making the mind, 
 
 As it gets out of breath, despair to find; 
 
 Or if at last something it stumbles on, 
 
 Perhaps it calls it false, and then 'tis gone. 
 
 If true, what's gained? Only just time to see 
 
 A breathless play a game of fantasy 
 
 That has no other end than this: that men 
 
 Run to be tired, just to sit down again. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 AUNT SOPHIE, left to herself, got up with a childish 
 curiosity to look around on the elegant chamber to 
 which she had been introduced the furniture all 
 made of some wood that looked like ivory, and up- 
 holstered in rose satin and white lace. 
 
 "Too fine to live in," she said to herself, as she 
 stood before the beautifully draped dressing-table, 
 with its broad and tall mirror filling up all the space 
 between the two front windows, and curtained, like 
 them, with rose silk and white lace, and with its toilet 
 service of Bohemian glass and gold. 
 
 She turned from this to the richly festooned alcove, 
 in which stood the luxurious bedstead, and from that 
 view to the inviting chairs and lounges, her wonder 
 and admiration growing with all that she saw. 
 
 She was still moving around, when the door opened, 
 and Lilith appeared, ushering in the baroness Lilith
 
 218 LILITH 
 
 in her simple black silk dress, and Madame Von 
 Bruyin in an elegant negligee of pale mauve velvet, 
 edged with swan's-down. 
 
 She advanced to Aunt Sophie with smiling eyes and 
 outstretched hands, exclaiming brightly: 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Downie! I am so rejoiced to see 
 you! You have come to us so opportunely! How 
 opportunely you shall soon know. Why, only to-day we 
 were to write to you and ask you to come. You have 
 only anticipated our very great desire to see you." 
 
 "Indeed you are very good to say so, ma'am, I'm 
 sure. It was the sinner who made me come, whether 
 or no; and I was so awful 'fraid I was intruding," said 
 the child-like old lady, in simple truth, as she placed 
 both her plump little hands in the warm, welcoming 
 clasp of her hostess. 
 
 "You are looking so well; and Lilith tells me you 
 had a fine voyage." 
 
 "Yes, thank you, ma'am; I had an awful fine voy- 
 age, considering the season of the year; and it done 
 me a heap of good." 
 
 "I can see that it has. Sit down now and let us 
 be comfortable," said the baroness, drawing one of 
 the luxurious chairs nearer to Aunt Sophie, who 
 smiled and bowed in a deprecating little way before 
 she took it. 
 
 When they were all seated near what seemed to bo 
 a beautiful vase, but what was in reality the porce- 
 lain stove that heated the room, Aunt Sophie broke 
 out in child-like admiration: 
 
 "I never seen a stove like this in all my life before. 
 I didn't think as they could make stoves out'n any- 
 thing but iron." 
 
 "We don't have them in our own country," said 
 Lilith. "At least I never saw one." 
 
 The baroness smiled, and then changed the sub- 
 ject by asking Aunt Sophie about the health and wi j l-
 
 LILITH 219 
 
 fare of her inmates, and the prosperity of her house. 
 And the old lady answered with simple truth, relat- 
 ing all about the poor young theological student 
 whose only pair of Sunday trousers she had inad- 
 vertently brought away; and all about the coming 
 marriage of her favorite boarder, Mrs. Farquier, and 
 Elder Perkins, of their church. 
 
 The baroness listened with sympathetic attention, 
 and after a few more cordial words of congratulation 
 or of inquiry, the lady said: 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Downie, you will please tell me the 
 name of the hotel you stopped at, so that I may send 
 and have your effects brought hither." 
 
 "The hotel where I stopped, ma'am?" said Aunt 
 Sophie, with a slightly puzzled air. 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Downie; I wish to know so that I may 
 send for your trunk." 
 
 "Why, it was the same place where the sinner is 
 stopping!" 
 
 "But where is that, my dear friend? What is its 
 name?" smilingly inquired Madame Von Bruyin. 
 
 "The hotel le' me see, now what was the name 
 of that hotel ag'in? The sinner did tell me; but 
 there! my poor head has been in that whirl ever since 
 I was snatched away so suddenly and fetched over 
 here that I declare to man I haven't got no memory 
 left! I ought to remember that name, too, 'cause 
 it sounded for all the world like a name in a ballad 
 or a fairy story, and as if it might 'a' been the palace 
 of the fairy queen or the enchanted princess. What 
 was it, ag'in? Oh! I know. It was the Hotel of Love, 
 on the Kue River. That's what it was. Now ain't 
 that just like a place in a ballad or a fairy story?" 
 inquired Aunt Sophie, with a smile. "Just fancy it! 
 The Hotel of Love on the Rue River!" 
 
 The baroness looked helplessly and hopelessly per- 
 plexed.
 
 220 LILITH 
 
 "The Hotel du Louvre, Eue de Kivoli," suggested 
 Lilith, in a low tone. 
 
 "Oh, certainly! I see! Touch the bell, if you please, 
 my dear," said Madame Von Bruyin. 
 
 Lilith complied, and the baroness gave her instruc- 
 tions to the servant that answered the summons. 
 
 "And now, my dear," said the lady, rising to leave 
 the room, "I have some papers to sign, and Mon- 
 sieur Le Grange is waiting for me. Make our dear 
 guest as comfortable as you can, and here, my dear, 
 give her the choice of the vacant chambers on the 
 other side." 
 
 And with a smile and a bow the beautiful hostess 
 left the room. 
 
 "Come, Aunt Sophie, and select your bower!" said 
 Lilith, playfully, as she arose. 
 
 The simple-hearted widow gathered her belongings 
 and prepared to follow her guide. 
 
 Lilith led the old lady across the hall and opened 
 the door of a chamber opposite the one they had just 
 left, and introduced her into the most elegant apart- 
 ment she had ever seen. 
 
 It was upholstered in satin-wood, pale blue velvet 
 embroidered with silver and white lace. 
 
 Aunt Sophie hesitated to sit down in her black 
 alpaca gown on any of the elegantly covered chairs, 
 and feared to lay down her black shawl and mashed 
 bonnet anywhere, lest they should soil the delicate 
 draperies. 
 
 At length Lilith relieved her funny embarrassment 
 by taking those articles from her hands and hanging 
 them in a handsome armoire, the door of which was 
 one sheet of crystal mirror. 
 
 And then the simple old lady looked at the dress- 
 ing table with its draperies of pale blue velvet and 
 fine white lace, and its accessories of pearl combs 
 and pearl-handled brushes, and gold vases, and
 
 LILITH 
 
 flagons, and thence to the bed with its costly hang- 
 ings of the same velvet and lace, in such distressing 
 embarrassment that Lilith said to her at length: 
 
 "Madame Von Bruyin wished me to give you your 
 choice of all the vacant chambers. If you do not like 
 this one, I can show you a plainer." 
 
 "Oh, yes, please do, honey! This is so awful grand! 
 I wouldn't dare to sit down on one of these chairs, 
 and as to lying down in that grand bed I couldn't 
 dream of such a thing! And that sounds so ungrate- 
 ful of me, too, when the baroness is giving me the 
 best of everything! But, honey, I ain't used to it, 
 and I couldn't get used to it, and that is the solemn 
 truth, so I hope you'll excuse me," said the old lady, 
 in her soft, slow, deprecating tones. 
 
 "There is nothing in this world too good for you, 
 dear Aunt Sophie! There is indeed scarcely anything 
 good enough for you, we think," said Lilith, as she 
 took the little black bonnet and shawl from the 
 armoire in which she had hung them, and led the way 
 down the corridor to the rear of the building and 
 opened a door at its extremity, and ushering the guest 
 into a pretty, bright, fresh chamber, furnished in 
 curled maple and gay chintz. 
 
 "How do you like this room?" inquired Lilith. 
 
 "Oh! ever so much better than t'other one! I ain't 
 afraid of hurting anything here!" 
 
 "And you can make yourself quite comfortable?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, awful comfortable, honey." 
 
 "Your trunks will be here very soon," said Lilith, 
 as, still acting in her role of lady's maid to the visitor, 
 she hung up Aunt Sophie's bonnet, shawl and hand- 
 bag in the maple-wood wardrobe. 
 
 Then she sat down to "keep company" with the old 
 lady until her boxes should arrive to give her some 
 employment. 
 
 "I hope you will tell the baroness that I ralely
 
 222 LILITH 
 
 didn't expect this! I ralely didn't mean to intrude. 
 I only come this morning with the sinner to call and 
 pay my respects to the baroness and see you, honey, 
 and then go back to the Hotel of Love. I never 
 would have presumed to come and set down on you 
 all without an invitation," said Aunt Sophie, in a soft, 
 slow, deprecating tone. 
 
 Lilith went and kissed her gently before replying: 
 
 "You did not come without an invitation, and a 
 very pressing one. You cannot doubt how pleased 
 Madame Von Bruyin is to see you, or how happy I 
 am to have you here." 
 
 "I know you are all awful good to me. I know 
 that," said Aunt Sophie. 
 
 A little later on her trunk arrived and was brought 
 up into her room, and Aunt Sophie made the best of 
 her limited wardrobe to dress for dinner. 
 
 Simple as any child, she accepted all the aid that 
 Lilith could give her, even obediently submitting to 
 have her unruly hair "fixed," and to wear the pretty 
 little lace cap, fichu and cuffs that Lilith's deft 
 fingers constructed from her own materials. 
 
 Aunt Sophie liked herself in this new dress, and 
 did not hesitate to say so. 
 
 The dinner that followed soon was served in what 
 was known in the maison as the petit salon. There 
 was no one present but Madame Von Bruyin, Lilith, 
 Mrs. Downie and Monsieur Le Grange, whom Aunt 
 Sophie mistook for a preacher of the gospel, and ever 
 after referred to as the old minister. 
 
 Lilith saw no more of Mr. Alfred Ancillon, or 
 Sefior Zuniga, during that day. 
 
 The next morning, after breakfast, the baroness 
 went out shopping as usual, but excused Lilith from 
 attending her, and took Aunt Sophie instead, "to 
 show her the shops," as she said. 
 
 They had not left the house more than half an hour,
 
 LILITH 
 
 when a card was brought to Lilith bearing the name, 
 SENOR ZUNIGA. 
 
 And Lilith went down into the small drawing-room 
 to receive him alone. 
 
 "Madame Von Bruyin has gone out and has taken 
 Mrs. Downie with her," said Lilith, when their mutual 
 greetings had passed. 
 
 "Ah! I am glad! Well as I like the beautiful 
 baroness and the good Aunt Sophie, I can dispense 
 with their society this morning, for I wish to talk 
 with you alone," he said, seating himself by her side 
 on the sofa. "I told you yesterday that I had much 
 to say to you." 
 
 "Yes," she replied. 
 
 "Hereward, you say, is still at the Court of ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And yet you have never heard from him?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "He does not know that you are living?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, neither did I until an accident revealed your 
 continued existence to me. I will tell you all about 
 that by and by. Now I tell you, Lilith, that he must 
 learn the truth." 
 
 "Oh, no! no! Do not bring me in any way to his 
 notice," she pleaded, clasping her hands and fixing 
 her eyes upon him in the earnestness of her entreaty. 
 
 "But why not, now that you are able to clear up 
 the mystery that separated you?" demanded Zuniga, 
 in astonishment. 
 
 "Oh, because he does not love me. He never 
 loved me! He told me so with his own lips," moaned 
 Lilith, wringing her hands. 
 
 "No heroics, if you please, child. I get quite enough 
 of them on the stage. I hate them off it. But tell 
 me, in a matter of fact way, did you really believe 
 him when he said that?"
 
 224. LILITH 
 
 "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! For he spoke in the most bitter, 
 scornful, insulting manner. He said that he should 
 leave the house, never to return while I desecrated 
 it with my presence. Desecrated it, mind. That was 
 what drove me away, and what will keep me away 
 from him," she wailed, twisting her hands together. 
 
 "Pray don't be melodramatic, Lilith, my dear. I am 
 so tired of that sort of thing that I have left the stage 
 forever, I hope. But tell me quietly and sensibly 
 when and under what circumstances Hereward talked 
 such very objectionable nonsense." 
 
 "It was on that fatal twenty-first of March 
 when " 
 
 "There you go again. There was nothing fatal 
 about it. However, proceed." 
 
 "It was on the twenty-first of March, then, that 
 he came down suddenly to Cloud Cliffs. That letter 
 which you had written to me had fallen into his hands, 
 and he rushed down to Cloud Cliffs, just as I feared 
 he would, in a " 
 
 "Deuce of a rage. Quite natural under the circum- 
 stances. Well?" 
 
 "He came in just after I had read your last letter, 
 which was even more compromising than your first, 
 and as I was about to drop it into the fire he seized 
 it from me " 
 
 "Very rude of him." 
 
 "And he read it." 
 
 "Quite so. It was what we should have expected 
 of him. Proceed." 
 
 "And then But, oh, indeed, I cannot describe 
 
 the scene that followed." 
 
 "You needn't. I can see it all. The fat was in 
 the fire. There was a fiz, a blaze, a conflagration!" 
 
 "I cannot blame him for his anger then. The cir- 
 cumstances were so criminating. He demanded an 
 explanation, but I could give him none without be-
 
 LILITH 225 
 
 traying your secret, which I was sworn to keep. It 
 ended, as I told you, in his declaring that he did not 
 love me, congratulating himself that he had never 
 fallen into the deep degradation of loving me, and 
 Diving that he would leave the house, never to re- 
 turn while I should desecrate it with my presence." 
 
 "Very melodramatic, and consequently very non- 
 sensical, as all heroics are off the stage. And you 
 believed him?" 
 
 "Yes; for I left the house that night." 
 
 "And you still believe him, eh?" 
 
 "Yes; for I will never make known my existence to 
 him." 
 
 " What a baby you must be, Lilith, to believe all 
 the ravings of a man maddened by jealousy. Why, 
 child! you were no sooner gone than he 'sought you 
 sorrowing' all over the country. A month later the 
 body of a poor, unfortunate young woman who once 
 belonged to our troupe, and was the wife of a man 
 who sometimes acted under my name, was found in 
 the woods in such a state of decomposition that it 
 could not be recognized; but it was dressed in a suit 
 of your clothes, which were readily enough identi- 
 fied by all your servants, so that the sapient coroner's 
 jury who sat upon the remains brought in a verdict 
 that 'Lilith Hereward came to her death by a blow 
 on the b?ck of her head from some blunt instrument 
 held in the hand of some person unknown to the jury.' 
 When Hereward learned this verdict he fell like a 
 slaughtered ox; and he knew no more of life for 
 weeks " 
 
 "Oh!" cried Lilith, involuntarily. 
 
 "In the meantime, I, out in California, knew noth- 
 ing of what was going on in West Virginia until a 
 month after that coroner's inquest until one day I 
 met with an old copy of the Pursuivant, in which I 
 read a full account of your supposed fate. Then,
 
 226 LILITH 
 
 my child, I understood, or thought I understood, 
 what had happened that jour death had been caused, 
 directly or indirectly, by the jealous rage of your 
 husband; and I threw up my engagement and traveled 
 as fast as steam could take me to West Virginia and 
 to the presence of Tudor Hereward. I found him the 
 mere shadow of his former self." 
 
 Lilith moaned. 
 
 "But I did not pity him in the least! I bitterly 
 upbraided him for having been the cause of your 
 death, as I fully believed him to have been. I ana 
 afraid I even became melodramatic over it all, which 
 was very unprofessional off the stage, you know. 
 He never sought to excuse or defend himself. Still 
 I had no mercy on him. I rubbed it into him. To 
 deepen his remorse for his wrong to you, I gave him 
 the secret! What cared I then for any consequences 
 to myself? I gave him the secret!" 
 
 "What! You told you told him who you were!" 
 exclaimed Lilith. 
 
 "No, I did better than that. He might not have 
 believed my word. I told him nothing. But I directed 
 him to the papers in the old trunk for all informa- 
 tion and all proof. And then I left him and went 
 to the village hotel and waited for events. But noth- 
 ing happened, and at last I heard that he had gone 
 to Washington to accept some foreign mission that 
 had been offered him. Then I also left the neigh- 
 borhood and went to the Southwest. I took no fur- 
 ther pains to conceal my identity; yet no evil hap- 
 pened to me. No requisition under the extradition 
 treaty was made for me. But, Lilith, my child, you 
 are cleared from suspicion in the eyes of your hus- 
 band. He has the secret!" 
 
 "Oh, no, he has not!" exclaimed Lilith. "He has 
 not! For those papers to which you referred him
 
 LILITH 227 
 
 for information were not in the house! I brought 
 them away with me when I left Cloud Cliffs." 
 
 "You brought them away with you!" 
 
 "Yes, for I would not leave them there to endanger 
 you. So, you see, he does not yet know that I am 
 innocent." 
 
 "I am sorry that he did not find the papers. But, 
 Lilith, my darling, he does know that you are inno- 
 cent. He came to his senses from the very day in 
 which he lost you. All that I heard about him in his 
 own neighborhood proved his profound sorrow at your 
 loss and his faith in your integrity." 
 
 "And yet he told me " 
 
 "Never mind what he told you. He wa& mad with 
 jealousy then, and his words must not be remembered. 
 He loves you, I am sure. He always loved you. I 
 tell you this I who know something of human 
 nature." 
 
 "Oh, if I thought so! Oh, if I thought so!" 
 
 "Now, now, now, now, don't be stagey! Here ward 
 loves you devotedly. I was sure of it when I talked 
 with him of you. It was not only remorse for his 
 cruel suspicions, but sorrow for your loss, that was 
 almost driving him mad!" 
 
 "He had but little cause for remorse about his sus- 
 picions. The circumstances were so criminating." 
 
 "And your life and character so vindicating." 
 
 "Was it accident that led you to Aunt Sophie's 
 house?" inquired Lilith at last. 
 
 "Yes and no. I will explain. After I had made 
 a short theatrical tour in the Territories I came East 
 and to New York. I was so reckless that I did not 
 care what might become of me. I was on Broadway 
 one day, when I saw your picture in a photographer's 
 show-case. I did not then connect it with any idea 
 that you were still in the land of the living, but 
 fancied that it was a photograph that might have
 
 228 LILITH 
 
 been taken for your foster-father,, the summer before 
 your marriage when you were on your last trip with 
 him." 
 
 "No, it was taken just before I sailed from New 
 York, for Aunt Sophie. She wanted a picture of me, 
 and she took me to a photographer who was a mem- 
 ber of her church and for whom one of her lady 
 boarders colored the photographs," Lilith explained. 
 
 "So I learned later. Having no picture of you, 
 my darling, and wishing to possess one, I went in to 
 the artist and asked to buy a copy. He told me 
 that he could not sell one without permission from 
 the customer who had had the photograph taken. I 
 told him that the customer and the original of the 
 picture were both dead. At this he stared and said 
 that he guessed not, unless they had died very re- 
 cently. And then the artist told me that the pic- 
 tures had been taken by the order of an old lady 
 friend of his own, and of a young girl boarding in 
 her house then, but now away to Europe. Still I 
 had no suspicion that they represented my living 
 Lilith, but believed the likeness to be an accidental 
 one, though so good that I wished to possess a copy. 
 So I requested the artist to give me the address of the 
 customer for whom they had been taken. He very 
 readily obliged me. I went to Mrs. Downie's house 
 the same day. Seeing her sign out, I requested the 
 girl who answered my ring to take my card to her 
 mistress. While I was waiting in the parlor I saw 
 your photograph on the mantelpiece. I took it down 
 and examined it minutely, a faint suspicion coming 
 like hope into my heart that it might be yours after 
 all. I turned to the back and read the inscription, 
 'To Aunt Sophie, with the love of Lilith,' or some- 
 thing to that effect. My child, I am not given to 
 wild emotion off the stage and yet I was so over- 
 come with joy and fear that I dropped upon a chair,
 
 LILITH 229 
 
 and had some trouble to compose myself before the 
 landlady came in. But in that short space of time 
 I had resolved to take board in the house, if possible, 
 in order to find out all about you. So when Aunt 
 Sophie came in I broached the subject of board and 
 lodging, and the good creature consented to receive 
 me." 
 
 "Yes, she wrote to me about that," said Lilith. 
 
 "But I governed my strong anxiety and refrained 
 from asking her questions about the original of that 
 photograph for a few hours, and then began cau- 
 tiously to examine her. It is needless to say that I 
 learned all she knew of you." 
 
 "Did you return the confidence, and supplement her 
 small knowledge of my antecedents by telling her all 
 you knew of me?" inquired Lilith. 
 
 "Only by saying that you were a very near and 
 dear relative of mine." 
 
 "So much she herself wrote to me; but she wrote 
 of you as Mr. Ancillon, and yet she speaks of you as 
 Senor Zuniga " 
 
 "Yes. I took board with her as Alfred Ancillon. 
 I did not wish, in the case of my arrest under the 
 extradition tready, to bring an old and proud name 
 into that connection. And so it was not until after 
 I had seen your advertisement, and searched the 
 files of the Pursuivant and discovered my full vindi- 
 cation from that imputed crime, that I determined to 
 resume my own name. When we were once on board 
 the steamer, I told Mrs. Downie that Ancillon was 
 only my professional name, by which I think she 
 understood that I was a literary man writing under 
 that nomme de plume, but that my true name was 
 Zuniga. You look very much astonished, Lilith." 
 
 "I am astonished. I have been wondering in a state 
 of the deepest perplexity over that whole matter!" 
 exclaimed Lilith.
 
 LILITH 
 
 "Wondering why I called myself Zuniga?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why, my dear, because of all my names, profes- 
 sional or otherwise, that is the one to which I have 
 the best right." 
 
 "Were you were you, then were you " 
 
 "The Seiior Zuniga of Washington society?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Of course I was. You recognized me at first sight, 
 and so also did Hereward, as I saw by your amazed 
 looks, although afterwards you were both persuaded 
 that you were only deceived by a very striking like- 
 ness." 
 
 "Yes, we were. For we knew you as Mr. Ancillon, 
 and believed the professional announcement that you 
 had gone to California " 
 
 "When my stage name loaned to another member 
 of the troupe alone had gone." 
 
 "But believing as we did, how could we imagine 
 you to be identical with Sefior Zuniga, the nephew 
 of the P minister? Even now I cannot under- 
 stand it" 
 
 "But you will when I tell you the whole of my 
 story, Lilith." 
 
 "And you acted your part so well! When you 
 were introduced to us you looked so sublimely indif- 
 ferent and unconscious of ever having seen us before. 
 And, besides, though you looked so nearly identical 
 with Alfred Ancillon, there were really striking points 
 of dissimilarity." 
 
 Sefior Zuniga broke into one of his wild laughs, and 
 then said : 
 
 "Exactly! Precisely! There were striking points of 
 dissimilarity. When I dropped my stage name and 
 character, and took up my real ones, I made no coarse 
 disguise of other colored hair or complexion. Not at 
 all. I just gave the ends of my very peculiar and
 
 LILITH 231 
 
 characteristic eyebrows a quarter of an inch's twist 
 upward instead of downward, with the aid of a 
 camel's hair brush and a little Indian ink, and the 
 ends of my mustache a corresponding droop down- 
 ward instead of upward, and the character of my 
 countenance and expression was changed. This, with 
 my 'sublime unconsciousness' of which you spoke, your 
 prepossessed idea that I had gone to California, 
 en route for Australia, together with the utter im- 
 probability that Alfred Ancillon, the strolling player, 
 should have anything in common with Sefior Zuniga, 
 
 the nephew of the P minister, completed the 
 
 illusion." 
 
 "It did, indeed." 
 
 "And so, my child, as Sefior Zuniga, I enjoyed op- 
 portunities of conversing with you such as I should 
 never have been permitted to do as Alfred Ancillon." 
 
 "But now you are forever Zuniga?" 
 
 "Yes, forever Zuniga." 
 
 "And as the baroness may return before you leave, 
 I must present you to her by what name?" 
 
 "By my true name, of course. By the only name 
 now that my character is cleared from the faintest 
 shadow of reproach by which I shall henceforth be 
 known Zuniga." 
 
 They talked on for an hour longer, asking and an- 
 swering questions, but Zuniga was reticent about one 
 matter his right to the name he claimed. 
 
 "I will tell you later, Lilith," was all the explana- 
 tion that he would give of his reserve. 
 
 \Yhile they were still talking, the door of the draw- 
 ing-room swung open and the baroness, accompanied 
 by Aunt Sophie, entered the room. 
 
 Lilith and her visitor arose to receive them. 
 
 "Madame Von Bruyin," said Lilith, addressing her 
 patroness with a slight gesture of her hand towards
 
 232 LILITH 
 
 her visitor, "please permit me to present to you the 
 Senor Zuniga, my father." 
 
 The gentleman bowed profoundly; the lady gra- 
 ciously, saying: 
 
 "I am glad to see you, senor. Your daughter is a 
 dear young friend of mine. Pray resume your seat. I 
 hope that you will favor us with your company at 
 luncheon." 
 
 "I thank you, madame, I shall be very happy," re- 
 plied the senor, with another bow. 
 
 But there was one figure in the group that stood 
 transfixed, staring with eyes and mouth wide open, 
 then muttering: 
 
 "Why why why I didn't know why why 
 why " 
 
 But she could get no further. 
 
 Lilith went and put her arms around the old lady's 
 neck, and murinured, softly: 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Sophie, he is my dear father. I will 
 tell you all about it by and by." 
 
 "But how come he, the sinner, to be your father?" 
 inquired the dazed old lady. 
 
 Lilith laughed, and answered: 
 
 "I suppose because he married my mother." 
 
 The luncheon bell rang, and the baroness requested 
 Senor Zuniga to give his arm to Mrs. Downie. 
 
 At this moment Monsieur Le Grange joined the 
 group and was informally introduced to the Senor 
 Zuniga. 
 
 The whole party then moved to the small salon, 
 where the luncheon table was spread, and where 
 Madame Von Bruyin's liveried servants were in at- 
 tendance. 
 
 The light meal passed off very pleasantly the senor 
 being more than usually brilliant in sparkling wit 
 and anecdote. 
 
 Soon after their return to the drawing-room Zuniga
 
 LILITH 233 
 
 took leave, pleading that he had to run down to Calais 
 that night to catch the earliest boat to Dover, but 
 that he hoped to be in Paris again within a few days. 
 As soon as he was gone the baroness w r as eloquent 
 in his praise. She commended his dark beauty, grace, 
 elegance of person, his brilliancy in conversation and 
 so forth. 
 
 UNEXPECTED MEETING AT A WEDDING 
 
 WITHIN a week from the day of his departure the 
 Seiior Zuniga returned to Paris. 
 
 He found such favor in the eyes of the baroness, 
 that he became an habitue of the house. 
 
 They were, indeed, often closeted together in long 
 interviews that set Aunt Sophie and Lilith to specu- 
 lating. 
 
 "I think it is something about you, honey. Indeed, 
 I feel sure of it!" said the old lady to her young 
 favorite; and in fact she was right, as the event 
 proved. 
 
 Aunt Sophie herself had grown to be more and more 
 of a favorite with every member of the family. 
 
 The baroness, without consulting her companion, 
 had put the old lady in possession of much of Lilith's 
 history that had hitherto been kept from her. 
 
 Madame Von Bruyin had also explained to Mrs. 
 Downie that she should remain at the house as com- 
 panion and protectress to Lilith while the soon-to-be- 
 wedded couple should be on their wedding tour. 
 
 And Aunt Sophie, with many deprecating sighs and 
 self-disparaging disclaimers, had finally consented to 
 do so. 
 
 "And while we are gone, Monsieur Le Grange and
 
 234 LILITH 
 
 Lilith can show you all the wonders of Paris and its 
 environs," Madame Von Bruyin added, as an induce- 
 ment or a consolation. 
 
 "I am sure I have already seen more than I ever 
 expected to see in all the days of my life," said the 
 old lady, with simple candor. 
 
 Preparations for the marriage went steadily on. 
 
 Paris was beginning to fill with fashionables, re- 
 turning from the sea-shore or mountain height. The 
 wedding cards were out. Some of the most unique 
 jewels and costumes prepared for the occasion were 
 on exhibition in the show-cases of the most recherche 
 bazaars. 
 
 The public journals were sparkling with descrip- 
 tions of the costly presents in course of preparation. 
 
 The Prince Gherardini had arrived in town and 
 taken apartments at the Grand Hotel du Louvre. 
 
 The princely wedding was to be the opening event 
 of the season. 
 
 The two sisters of the prince, the Princesses Bianca 
 and Julietta, were to be the first and second brides- 
 maids, and six young ladies, selected from the most 
 noble families of the French capital, were to complete 
 the bridal retinue. 
 
 On Monday of the last week in November, a small 
 party collected in the little salon of the maison to wit- 
 ness the signing of the marriage contract. 
 
 This party consisted of the Baroness Von Bruyin, 
 Monsieur Le Grange, Lilith Hereward, Senor Zunigu 
 and Mrs. Downie, on the part of the bride elect, and 
 Prince Gherardini, the Princesses Bianca and Julietta, 
 and the Marquis Orsini, on the part of the bride- 
 groom. 
 
 Besides these there were two notaries public with 
 their clerks. 
 
 On this occasion the baroness was richly dressed
 
 LILITH 235 
 
 in a Mazarin blue velvet, trained, and trimmed with 
 ermine, and ornaments of pearls and sapphire. 
 
 The two young princesses wore white satin embroi- 
 dered with rosebuds. 
 
 Lilith, ruby velvet, point lace and pearls. 
 
 Aunt Sophie, black satin, with white lace shawl and 
 white lace cap all presents from the baroness. 
 
 The gentlemen wore the conventional black swal- 
 low-tail coat, black vest and black trousers, with white 
 neck-tie and white gloves. 
 
 When the contract was signed the whole party ad- 
 journed to the dining-salon, where a rich and rare 
 repast was spread for their refreshment. 
 
 And after this they separated amid hearty con- 
 gratulations. 
 
 The next day, Tuesday, the same party met at the 
 Mairie, where the civil ceremony, which the French 
 law requires, was duly observed. 
 
 But the grand pageant of the ecclesiastical rites 
 came off at the Church of St. Genevieve about noon 
 on Thursday. 
 
 At an early hour of the forenoon the church was 
 crowded with the nobility, fashion and beauty of 
 Paris. 
 
 The Archbishop of , attended by two bishops, 
 
 all in their sacred vestments, were in readiness to 
 officiate. 
 
 At half-past eleven the bridal train entered the 
 church. 
 
 First came the bride, leaning on the arm of her old 
 
 friend, the Due de L- . She was, of course, the 
 
 observed of all observers. She wore a trained dress of 
 white Genoa velvet, richly embroidered with seed 
 pearls and trimmed with marabout feathers. Being a 
 widow, she wore no orange blossoms; but her golden 
 tresses were crowned with a diadem of pearls and 
 diamonds in three bands, while down on the graceful
 
 236 LILITH 
 
 neck floated a tuft of marabout feathers and over all 
 the sumptuous costume flowed a rich old cardinal 
 point lace vail. Pearl and diamond necklace in a 
 dozen graded festoons encircled her fair neck and lay 
 upon her white bosom. Pearl and diamond bracelets 
 clasped the lovely arms. Kid gloves, embroidered 
 with small pearls, and trimmed with point lace, cov- 
 ered the slender yet plump hands. White boots to 
 match the gloves encased the shapely feet. In her 
 hand she carried a bouquet of rare white exotics. 
 
 Behind her followed eight bridesmaids, in thread 
 lace dresses, looped with rosebuds, over white silk 
 skirts; white gloves, wreaths and bouquets of white 
 rosebuds. 
 
 Lilith wore a trained dress of ivory-white brocade 
 satin, trimmed with duchess lace; pearl necklace and 
 bracelets on her pretty neck and arms, and a pearl 
 bandeau in her dark hair. 
 
 Aunt Sophie was very grand in a black flowered 
 satin, a black velvet dolman, and a black plush bonnet 
 all the gifts forced upon her acceptance by the 
 baroness. The bridegroom, with his attendants, came 
 out of the vestry as the bride's party filed up the aisle 
 to the music of Mendelssohn's wedding march. 
 
 The two parties met at the altar and kneeled upon 
 the hassocks prepared for them. 
 
 The music ceased, and the ceremony began. It was 
 rather more lengthy, stately and solemn than such 
 rites usually are. But at last it was over; the bene- 
 diction was pronounced; the register was signed and 
 witnessed; intimate friends crowded around the 
 newly-married pair with congratulations more or less 
 sincere. 
 
 It was one o'clock before the bridal cortege and 
 the wedding congregation entered their carriages and 
 dispersed, to meet again at four o'clock at the recep- 
 tion to be held at the home of the bride.
 
 LILITH 237 
 
 At the hour fixed the guests began to arrive, and 
 soon all the reception-rooms were filled with one of 
 the most brilliant crowds that had ever assembled 
 in Paris salons. 
 
 The whole house, profusely decorated with the 
 rarest flowers, was thrown open to the guests. 
 
 One room of the suite was given up to the exhibi- 
 tion of the wedding presents; tables arranged around 
 the walls and set here and there through the room, 
 were laden with the richest, rarest and most beau- 
 tiful products of modern art and science in manufac- 
 tures. Jewels that seemed poems; watches that 
 seemed vital; India shawls that were perfect studies 
 of finest workmanship; services of gold, pearl, por- 
 celain of wonderful grace and elegance in form ; laces 
 and embroideries of marvelous pattern and design; 
 dress fabrics of velvet, satin, silk, crepe, gauze, and 
 so forth, that seemed woven for the wearing of god- 
 desses and fairies rather than for clothing any woman 
 of mere flesh and blood. 
 
 This room possessed a great charm for lady guests, 
 who crowded it during the whole two hours of the 
 reception. 
 
 Another room was elegantly fitted up for refresh- 
 ments, that were laid upon many small tables, with 
 services of pure gold and fine porcelain, and attended 
 by servants out of livery who wore the evening dress 
 of gentlemen, varied only by white satin vests, kid 
 gloves and fragrant boutonnieres. 
 
 Here the greatest skill of the best caterer in Paris 
 had been expended in the many tempting delicacies 
 of the table; and the rarest wines of the southern 
 vinej-ards added their serpent charm to the feast. 
 
 This room found greatest favor from the elder ladies 
 and the gentlemen. 
 
 But, after all, the most charming apartment of the 
 many that were thrown open was that in which the
 
 238 LILITH 
 
 bride and groom, the Prince and Princess Gherar- 
 dini, received their guests. 
 
 They stood together near the door. Behind the 
 princess were grouped her eight lovely bridesmaids, 
 and near them sat Aunt Sophie, trying to keep her- 
 self out of sight, but enjoying the scene with all the 
 zest of the youngest girl there. On the left of the 
 princess stood Lilith, looking, every one said, the 
 loveliest woman present. She still wore the rich but 
 simple dress of ivory white brocade, and the orna- 
 ments of pearl on her bosom, on her arms and in 
 her black hair; and now her cheeks and lips were 
 flushed, and her eyes were brilliant with sympathetic 
 excitement. Lilith, however, had acquired all the 
 ease and grace of the bon ton, so that her animation 
 only added glow and sparkle to her lovely face, and 
 left her form and manner in perfect repose. 
 
 The baroness I beg her pardon the newly-wedded 
 princess took care to present every one who ap- 
 proached the group to her friend, "Mrs. Wyvil." And 
 every one went away to talk of the beautiful crea- 
 ture. Some to ask others who this lovely Mrs. Wyvil 
 could be; and to be told that she was a very wealthy 
 young American widow, who had made a great sensa- 
 tion during the last season, but who was understood 
 to be on the eve of marriage with some distinguished 
 American statesman, whose name had escaped the 
 memory of the latter, and so forth. 
 
 The princess perceived and enjoyed the triumph 
 of her young protegee, even in the midst of her own 
 bridal ovation; and occasionally a humorous smile 
 curled her beautiful lips and lighted her blue eyes, 
 as if she was enjoying in anticipation some rare, good 
 jest; and semi-occasionally, as it were, she slightly 
 craned her graceful neck and tried to look through 
 the nearer crowd and beyond towards the approach- 
 ing one.
 
 LILITH 239 
 
 "For whom are you watching, niadame?" inquired 
 the prince, in a low voice, as soon as he got an oppor- 
 tunity to speak to his bride. 
 
 "Oh, for an old friend of mine whom I particu- 
 larly pressed to come to us to-day," replied the prin- 
 cess. "And there he is, slowly working his way 
 through this human thicket," she added, as her eyes 
 lighted up with animation. 
 
 The prince looked, but there were so many gentle- 
 men approaching from the same direction that he 
 could not distinguish the especial person of whom 
 the lady spoke. 
 
 Meanwhile the stranger in question came on, not 
 pushing his way, but rather tacking, like a craft 
 sailing against wind and tide, and suffering himself 
 to be driven this way and that, but always slowly 
 nearing "port." 
 
 As he came on, the topic of the hour, the praises 
 of the new beauty the lovely Mrs. Wyvil met his 
 ears from all sides her grace, her wit, her genius, 
 her elegance, her accomplishments were the theme 
 of the salon. 
 
 "Wyvil!" he said to himself "Wyvil! the name is 
 certainly not a common one! Who can she be, I 
 wonder? An American, too! I must see this belle." 
 
 The princess, still watching the approach of the 
 stranger, turned to Lilith for an instant and said: 
 
 "My love, I wish you would speak to dear Aunt 
 Sophie. There she sits, hiding behind you, quite 
 neglected." 
 
 Lilith at once turned around and opened a conversa- 
 tion with the good old lady by asking: 
 
 "What do you think of all this?" 
 
 "Oh, honey, I'm half scared and half delighted, you 
 know. 'Pears to me I don't know whether I'm in a 
 dream of heaven!" replied the dazed and delighted 
 old lady.
 
 240 LILITH 
 
 Meanwhile the stranger came up to the bridal 
 group, bowed low before the princess, bowed to the 
 prince, and then spoke the required words of con- 
 gratulation, and was about to pass on and give place 
 to others who were pressing forward to pay their re- 
 spects when the princess, laying a light, detaining 
 hand upon his arm, said: 
 
 "Pardon. One moment, if you please. I wish to in- 
 troduce you to a fair compatriot of yours." 
 
 "I thank your highness. I shall be most happy," 
 replied the new-comer. 
 
 "Lilith, my love," said the princess, in a low voice, 
 to the young lady behind her. 
 
 Lilith turned at once. 
 
 "Mrs. Wyvil, my dear, permit me to present to you 
 Mr. Tudor Hereward, American Charge d' Affaires to 
 our Court." 
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THAT STARTLING INTRODUCTION 
 
 Each in the other can descry 
 
 The tone constrained, the altered eye; 
 
 They know that each to each can seem 
 
 No longer as of yore; 
 And yet, while thus estranged, I deem 
 
 Each loves the other more. 
 Hers is, perhaps, the saddest heart; 
 His the more forced and painful part; 
 And troubled now becomes, perforce, 
 The inevitable intercourse, 
 
 So easy heretofore. 
 
 Southey. 
 
 A SLIGHT start from Tudor Hereward, and a sudden 
 paleness of Lilith's face, were the only signs of the 
 shock that both had sustained in this unexpected en-
 
 LILITH 
 
 counter; and even these had been seen by no one ex- 
 cept the watchful princess, who bad planned the meet- 
 ing and studied its effect. 
 
 Hereward bowed as to any other lady. 
 
 Lilith courtesied. 
 
 Both grew paler. Neither spoke. The strain was 
 becoming unbearable. Besides, Hereward was stop- 
 ping the way. 
 
 The princess pitied them; and then she became 
 frightened for the result of her own coup-de-theatre. 
 Should Hereward "lose his head," or Lilith faint, or 
 should they in any other manner bring "admired dis- 
 order" into the serene repose of this patrician draw- 
 ing-room? For nature, when hard pressed, does some- 
 times break through all the elegant little barriers of 
 convenances and assert itself. 
 
 All this flashed through the mind of the princess 
 in a very few seconds, and then always equal to the 
 occasion she turned with perfect ease to her latest 
 guest, and said: 
 
 "Mr. Hereward, the rooms are close, and Mrs. Wyvil 
 is faint; will you give her the support of you arm to 
 my boudoir? She will show you the way." 
 
 Hereward bowed, drew his wife's arm within his 
 own, and led her from the salon by the shortest way 
 indicated only by a gesture from Lilith. 
 
 They entered the elegant boudoir, with its walls 
 of fluted white satin, and its furniture and draperies 
 of white satin flowered with gold, and its innumerable 
 treasures of beauty and of art; but they saw none of 
 these things. They might have been in a West Vir- 
 ginia hut, for all consciousness they had of these 
 splendors. 
 
 As soon as they entered the room which had no 
 other occupant Lilith, sliding from her hold on Here- 
 ward's arm, dropped into the nearest chair, as if no 
 longer able to stand.
 
 LILITH 
 
 Hereward bent over her. 
 
 No word had passed between them as yet. 
 
 "Lilith!" he said, at length. 
 
 "Tudor!" she murmured in reply. 
 
 "Lilith, is this real? Can this wonder be real, or 
 is it onlj 7 a phantasm of fever, such as I have often 
 had since I lost you! Oh, Lilith! if this be real, come 
 to me come to me! Come to me, my own, and let 
 me clasp you to my heart!" he pleaded, holding out 
 his arms. 
 
 "Tudor do you care for me now?" she inquired, 
 in low and broken tones. 
 
 "Do I care for you? Oh, Lilith! so much ; so much 
 that your loss has almost destroyed my life! Oh, my 
 love! Oh, my darling. Why, why did you ever leave 
 me? Why, Lilith, why?" he pleaded, earnestly. 
 
 "Because," she murmured very low "because you 
 told me that you had never loved me; you said that 
 you had married me only to please your dying father; 
 you bade me leave your presence, and you added that 
 in a few days you should leave the house, never to 
 return to it while I should desecrate it with my pres- 
 ence." 
 
 "I! Did I ever utter such words as those to you 
 to my wife?" exclaimed Hereward, as soon as he 
 had recovered from the shock of hearing them re- 
 peated to him. 
 
 "Indeed you did, Tudor. They were stamped 
 burned too deeply into my memory ever to be for- 
 gotten. I do not give them back to you now in re- 
 proach, but only in reply to your question as to why 
 I left you. You see now that I had no alternative. 
 I answered you at the time that I must not be the 
 means of banishing you from your patrimonial home; 
 that since one or the other must go, I myself should 
 leave, and leave you in peaceable possession of your 
 home. Something like this I said to you then, Tudor;
 
 LILITH 243 
 
 but you bade me begone, and I obeyed you. That 
 was all," she concluded, in a low, gentle tone. 
 
 "I was mad mad! Not one word that I uttere'd 
 then was true or rational! Oh, Lilith, I am no more 
 responsible for the words and actions of that hour 
 than is the veriest maniac for his ravings!" he pleaded, 
 sinking over and leaning heavily on the back of the 
 chair that supported her slight frame. 
 
 "I know, Tudor," she said, in a humble, deprecat- 
 ing tone "I know, and I do not criticise you. How 
 could I? The circumstances that surrounded me 
 seemed criminating enough to destroy the faith of the 
 most confiding husband in the world, though he were 
 married to the most faithful wife!" 
 
 "And yet they should not have touched my faith 
 in you; the child brought up in my father's house, 
 the child not only loved, but esteemed and honored 
 by my father, and not by him only, but by all his 
 friends and neighbors! No, Lilith, even those sur- 
 rounding circumstances, though you could not explain 
 them, should never have touched my faith in you! 
 would never have done so, but that I was mad 
 mad with jealousy ! Yes, I confess it. Lilith, can you 
 forgive me for that causeless, injurious jealousy?" he 
 pleaded, bending over her. 
 
 "Oh, Tudor! If there were anything to forgive, it 
 was forgiven on that very night in which we parted." 
 
 "Ah! why did you go, my Lilith? Why did you 
 let words of frenzy drive you away? Could not you, 
 my gentle child, have been patient with a madman 
 for a little while? Why act upon reproaches that 
 you knew to be undeserved and altogether unreason- 
 able?" 
 
 "I knew they were undeserved, but I thought they 
 were very reasonable, under all the circumstances. 
 Oh, Tudor, it was not your reproaches, not your anger, 
 that drove me away from you! I could have borne
 
 LILITH 
 
 them and waited for time to vindicate me, to justify 
 me in your sight. No, Tudor, it was not anger nor 
 reproach that drove me away." 
 
 "What was it, then?" 
 
 "I told you; but you have forgotten it, or misun- 
 derstood. Tudor, I had to go. I had no choice. You 
 told me that you did not love me; that you had never 
 loved me, and said that you would go away and never 
 come back while I stayed in the house. But you 
 'never loved' me. These were the words that drove 
 me from you." 
 
 "The words of a maniac!" 
 
 "Did you find my farewell letter, left on your 
 bureau, Tudor?" 
 
 "Yes I did." 
 
 "Do you remember its contents?" 
 
 "Yes. When I think of it I can recall every word. 
 That letter is stamped upon my memory, Lilith, as 
 you say my sentence of banishment is upon yours." 
 
 "Then, Tudor, will you now recall what I said on 
 bidding you good-bye? It was something like this 
 though I cannot recall the precise words I told 
 you that though I should not trouble you by my 
 presence, or my letters, yet neither should I take any 
 pains to hide myself from you. I told you that if 
 the time should ever come when, after revising your 
 judgment of me, you should see reason to retract 
 your charges against me, and should ask me to re- 
 turn to you, I would return and would be all to you 
 in the future that I had been in the past. Do you 
 remember reading that in my farewell letter, Tudor?" 
 
 "Yes, yes! I do, I do! And oh, my child, I do re- 
 tract all the cruel charges that Satan and false shows 
 ever goaded me to make. I believe you to be as pure 
 in mind and heart and life as any angel that stands 
 before the Throne," he said, bending over her chair. 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" she fervently breathed.
 
 LILITH 245 
 
 "And you forgive me, Lilith?" 
 
 "I have more cause to ask forgiveness than to ex- 
 tend it," she answered, humbly. 
 
 "No, no!" he exclaimed, deprecatingly. 
 
 "Tudor," she said, "you say that you esteem me 
 that you trust me; and I thank Heaven for that! But 
 Tudor do you love me?" she inquired, in a low, 
 thrilling, pathetic tone. 
 
 "I love you more than my own life, so help me 
 Heaven!" replied Hereward, in such tones of impas- 
 sioned earnestness that no one who heard them could 
 have doubted their truth. 
 
 Lilith arose and turned, fronting him, and said: 
 
 "Then, Tudor, take me, for I am yours, yours en- 
 tirely spirit, soul and frame! I say now, as I said 
 once before, there is not, there never was a pulse 
 in my heart that is not true to you." 
 
 These last words were breathed out upon his bosom, 
 to which he had gathered her. 
 
 Presently they sat down, he holding her hand with- 
 in his own, and gazing with infinite content into her 
 beautiful face. 
 
 LOVE'S OVATION 
 
 "You have the victory, my own!" he said at last, 
 with a droll smile. "You have triumphed!" 
 
 "How triumphed?" inquired Lilith. 
 
 "You have drawn me to your side, you have brought 
 me to retract, and yet you have not told me your 
 secret!" 
 
 "No! I have not, indeed; but " 
 
 "Nor has any one else told me, nor do I even sur-
 
 246 LILITH 
 
 mise its nature; in a word, Lilith, I know no more 
 of that mystery now than I knew on that dreadful day 
 when it parted us! And yet I am here beside you, 
 repudiating all my own injurious doubts and sus- 
 picions, taking you in perfect love and perfect trust." 
 
 "Oh, thank Heaven that you can so take me!" ex- 
 claimed Lilith, fervently. 
 
 "And now I do not even ask you for your secret." 
 
 "Oh, but I can tell you now! I am free to tell you 
 now " 
 
 "But I do not even care to hear it! I do not even 
 ask you by 
 
 'What conjuration and what mighty magic' 
 
 you, my little country girl, are here in Paris, arrayed 
 and lodged in royal magnificence, and gracing more 
 than any other lady in it the salon of Madame la 
 Princesse Gherardini. I am so perfectly satisfied for 
 the present just to have you by my side." 
 
 "I bless you for your faith and your forbearance, 
 Tudor! But I can tell you the secret of Monsieur 
 Ancillon's correspondence with me in one single word. 
 He is my father!" 
 
 "Your father, Lilith! Ancillon your father!" 
 
 "Yes, though I never knew it until after we were 
 married." 
 
 "Ancillon your father! Incredible! Are you sure 
 of that?" 
 
 "Quite sure." 
 
 "How did you discover the fact? Did he tell you?" 
 
 "I first discovered it by the packet of old letters 
 and papers put away in that trunk which was the 
 sole legacy of my dear mother to me." 
 
 "Ah! Ah! Ancillon himself, when he came to me 
 once at Cloud Cliffs, referred me to those documents; 
 but when I had the trunk broken open and searched, 
 the papers were gone!"
 
 LILITH 24T 
 
 "I had brought them away for safe keeping. They 
 were too important to be left." 
 
 "I understand now! I understand. But, Lilith! 
 We all thought your parentage was so well known 
 that there could be no mistake about it ! Your father 
 and mother lived at Seawood. Your father was 
 drowned in saving my life. Your mother died of the 
 shock the very day of your birth. How, then, is it 
 possible that this man can claim to be your father?" 
 
 "Oh, Tudor, it is a long and sad story. There is 
 no time to tell it to you now; but this much I can 
 tell: Joseph Wyvil and Elizabeth, who lived such a 
 secluded life at Seawood that their neighbors knew 
 little or nothing of them except that they belonged 
 to the village church, and led quiet, industrious and 
 blameless lives were not husband and wife as people 
 took them to be but a devoted brother and a most 
 unfortunate young sister, who had lost her husband 
 by a fate much worse than death. More than this I 
 cannot tell you now. Both died too suddenly to con- 
 fide the secret to any one. So I was registered as the 
 child of Joseph and Elizabeth Wyvil, when in fact I 
 was the child of Alphonzo and Elizabeth Zuniga!" 
 
 "Zuniga!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then Ancillon is a relative of that young Spaniard 
 we met in Washington who looked so much like him?" 
 
 "He was the same. Ancillon and Zuniga were one. 
 Ancillon was his professional name, Zuniga was his 
 family name." 
 
 "A very strange story, Lilith." 
 
 "My father will give you every particular as soon 
 as your convenience permits him to do so. And I 
 shall furnish the documents that shall prove the truth 
 of his story." 
 
 "How is it, my child, that you could not at the 
 very tii-st have told. i. *" + Ancillon was your father?
 
 248 LILITH 
 
 That you are now at liberty to tell that secret which 
 cost you so much to keep a year ago?" 
 
 "Because I am now in possession of the sequel to 
 the secret, without which I could never have told the 
 secret. But you shall know all from my father. I 
 think, also, I ought to tell you how I happen to be 
 in Paris with the Princess Gherardini. I can do so 
 in a very few words. When I left home I went to 
 New York, found a home with a good Christian, 
 motherly woman, the widow of a clergyman. After 
 waiting many weeks to hear from you, without suc- 
 cess, I answered a lady's advertisement for a traveling 
 companion, and was so fortunate as to be accepted 
 and to enter the household of the Baroness Von 
 Bruyin, now, since morning, the Princess, Gherardini. 
 I did not know that she was your first love. In tell- 
 ing me the story you had not told me any names. She 
 grew to love me. I know not why " 
 
 "Why does every one love you, child?" 
 
 "Ah, I don't know that every one does! I don't 
 even think that many do. Madame Von Bruyin has 
 always treated me with the distinction of an honored 
 guest and the affection of a beloved sister. You saw 
 me in her immediate circle to-day. That has always 
 been my place." 
 
 "She is a much nobler and more generous woman 
 than I had ever supposed her to be." 
 
 "Oh, she is indeed! But, Tudor! Tell me how you 
 came to be here at this wedding reception, when I 
 supposed you to be at the Court of ?" 
 
 "My love, I received a pressing letter from the 
 baroness, not only inviting but commanding, exhort- 
 ing and entreating me to come; going through all the 
 variations of the potential mood to compel me to come. 
 In short, darling, it was such a letter as could not be 
 gainsayed. I obeyed, thinking that the lady only 
 wanted an opportunity to say Hail! and Farewell!
 
 LILITH 249 
 
 to an old friend. I came and found my lost treasure! 
 And now I know her motive was to restore that 
 treasure to my possession. And I thank and bless her 
 for it." 
 
 "Amen and amen!" breathed Lilith. 
 
 "But, dearest dear! She introduced you as Mrs. 
 :Wyvil! How was that?" 
 
 "Oh, Tudor, I dreamed that some one in a high, 
 delirious fever had told me that I must never call 
 myself by the name of Hereward again, and I was so 
 foolish as to take the sick man at his word." 
 
 "I remember! I remember! Oh, Lilith! How much 
 you have to forgive!" 
 
 "I have nothing to forgive! nothing! I am just as 
 happy as a lark!" 
 
 "My darling, since you entered Madame Von 
 Bruyin's family under the name of Wyvil, how could 
 she have known or guessed that you were my wife?" 
 
 Lilith paused and reflected, and then she answered : 
 
 "I am not pledged to secrecy in this matter; yet, if 
 you were not my husband, and if I were not fully 
 resolved never to have a secret, either of my own or 
 of any one else's, from you, I should not tell you this; 
 for women should not betray women, especially to 
 the common enemy; but I know you are not vain, 
 Tudor, and you are generous." 
 
 "Now, if you object " 
 
 "I do not object I insist on telling you." 
 
 "Go on, then." 
 
 "You know she was your first love " 
 
 "My first and last hallucination! You, Lilith, 
 were my first and enduring love," amended Hereward. 
 
 "Oh! thank Heaven!" breathed the young wife, al- 
 most inaudibly; then she said: 
 
 "You were not quite just to her, Tudor. The old 
 baron whom she married was more of a father than 
 a husband to her; he doted on her from her infancy.
 
 250 LILITH 
 
 She was the only creature in the world that he loved 
 except her father." 
 
 "She told me that." 
 
 "He engaged himself to her that he might give her 
 a title and leave her his fortune." 
 
 "She did not need his fortune. She was the heiress 
 of great wealth." 
 
 "I know, but still he wished to leave his darling 
 all he possessed." 
 
 "He might have done that without marrying her." 
 
 "Yes, but he wished also to give her his title; the 
 title which they said he meant to ask of the em- 
 peror, in lieu of the payment of many millions loaned 
 by him during the war. He wished to ennoble his 
 pet." 
 
 "Well, love? What has all this got to do with your 
 telling the baroness your story?" inquired Here ward, 
 with a smile. 
 
 "Everything! You shall hear. This old man, who 
 loved without self-love, discovered that his fair be- 
 trothed was very unhappy, and pressed her for the 
 reason. That she should have a sorrow that he could 
 not comfort, with all his wealth and power, seemed 
 as wonderful as it was insupportable! He pressed 
 her for her confidence, and she gave it to him told 
 him well, she told him, in effect, that she would 
 rather marry Mr. Tudor Hereward than Herr Bruyin. 
 And he released her from her engagement to him- 
 self, and promised to win over her father to consent 
 to her marriage with you. When you returned to 
 Washington, she sought you out and offered the hand 
 that she had once refused. But you, being then 
 married, could not accept it. Tudor! were you sorry?" 
 
 "I am not sorry now, dearest, at all events," he 
 answered, drawing the little figure closer to his side. 
 
 "Of course, sorrow, disappointment and humilia- 
 tion preyed upon the spoiled beauty. Your marriage
 
 LILITH 251 
 
 with me was announced, and Herr Bruyin, who was 
 still watching over his darling, knew then the three- 
 fold cause of her anguish. He went to her and re- 
 minded her that their marriage had been announced 
 some weeks before, and that the announcement had 
 not been contradicted, and he proposed to her to let 
 their betrothal stand; to marry at the appointed time; 
 to go with him to Europe; and, in the grand tour 
 and at the great capitals, where she would be wel- 
 comed and feted, to forget the disappointments she 
 had experienced here. She followed his counsel, and 
 they were married and went abroad. I tell you this, 
 Tudor, that you may be just to her; for now you see 
 that she was not a double-dealer; she was not deceit- 
 ful; she was perfectly frank with you and with her 
 old betrothed, from first to last." 
 
 "Then I have wronged her in my judgment. And 
 it begins to seem to me that I am rather given to 
 wronging people, eh, Lilith?" 
 
 "No, you are not. You have been misled by false 
 appearances, which were nobody's fault." 
 
 "You, at least, are very charitable, Lilith. But go 
 on, dear." 
 
 "You know, I suppose, that Herr Bruyin received 
 his title soon after his arrival in his native city, and 
 that he survived the event but a few months, and 
 that Herr Von Kirschberg died about the same time?" 
 
 "Yes, I heard that." 
 
 "Madame Von Bruyin, bereft of husband and father, 
 returned to New York early in April. In May she 
 advertised for a companion. I applied for the situa- 
 tion, pleased madame, and was accepted, as I told you. 
 She knew me only as Mrs. Wyvil and believed me to 
 be a widow. She grew very fond of me " 
 
 "Very naturally." 
 
 "We were to sail by the Kron Prinz on the first of 
 June."
 
 252 LILITH 
 
 "Why, I sailed on the Kron Prinz, on the first of 
 June!" Hereward interrupted. 
 
 "Exactly. And that was the very reason why we 
 did not. And now comes the crisis of my story the 
 reason why I was compelled to discover my real 
 name and position to Madame the Baroness. She 
 had seen the account of your appointment as Secre- 
 tary of Legation, coupled with the theory that you 
 had accepted the post mainly for the sake of serving 
 the country in a place far removed from the spot as- 
 sociated with the tragic death of your wife " 
 
 " 'Young and lovely wife,' I think they put it, 
 Lilith," said Hereward, with a droll smile. "Well, it 
 was true, so far as I know. My health had broken 
 down under the heavy blow of your loss and your 
 supposed death, Lilith. And when I was convales- 
 cent I eagerly snatched at the opportunity of leaving 
 a home that had become hateful to me, and of seek- 
 ing distraction, not consolation, not forgetfulness, in 
 new scenes and new duties. And madame saw my 
 name in the published list of passengers, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes; curiosity, a very natural curiosity, led her to 
 read the list of cabin passengers by the Kron Prinz, 
 to see who were to be our fellow-passengers, and she 
 saw your name there. In another part of the paper 
 she had seen the account of your voyage and its 
 causes, of which I have just told you. But, Tudor, she 
 did not tell me all this until we were out at sea. Ou 
 that day when she sent for me she gave me, as I said, 
 only an outline of her reasons. She told me that there 
 was a party going out by the Kron Prinz with whom 
 she did not choose to travel." 
 
 "A very proper decision, under the very peculiar cir- 
 cumstances. But what has that got to do " 
 
 "I am rapidly coming to that, Tudor. After we had 
 sailed, when the pilot left us and we were far out 
 of sight of land, Madame Von Bruyin gave me her
 
 LILITH 253 
 
 whole confidence. She told me the story of her early 
 betrothal with an old millionaire; and of her first love 
 or fancied love into which her inexperienced heart 
 had betrayed her. She told me everything just as I 
 have told it to you." 
 
 "And as I had told you, months before," put in 
 Here ward. 
 
 "Yes: but you gave me the facts from your point 
 of view, and she gave them to me from her own. And 
 hers was the true view, Tudor." 
 
 "Yes, I acknowledge that." 
 
 "She said that in her position and in yours both 
 so recently bereaved she could not possibly think of 
 crossing the ocean in the same ship with you. And 
 then, Tudor, she added an explanation that made my 
 hair stand on end so to speak." 
 
 "Ah! what was that which could have straightened 
 these pretty, rippling locks and made them stand erect 
 'like quills upon the fretful porcupine?' " gayly in- 
 quired Hereward, as he passed his hand fondly over 
 her little curly black head. 
 
 "She told me that in a few months you (she and 
 
 yourself) would probably meet in . And, in shovt, 
 
 that both being free to form new ties the old in- 
 terest in each other would be revived; that after the 
 year of mourning had been past, you two would, of 
 course, marry, and that she should do everything in 
 her power to atone to you for all the disappointment 
 she had caused you, and to make your life happy! 
 Was not that enough to make my hair bristle up on 
 end to hear another woman tell me to my face that 
 she was going to marry my husband and live happy all 
 the rest of their lives?" 
 
 Hereward broke into a merry laugh. 
 
 "You know, I could not let her go on dreaming 
 that dream. I told her she must not think of such a
 
 LILITH 
 
 thing. And when, being very much astonished at my 
 assurance, she asked me why she must not, I told her 
 because it would be a deadly sin, for that Mr. Here- 
 ward's wife was still living. And when she pressed 
 to know why I thought so, I had to tell her, because 
 I myself was that wife, supposed to be dead. Well, 
 then, of course, it was necessary to tell her the cause 
 of our parting that it was a bitter misunderstanding 
 growing out of circumstances which placed me in a 
 false light. I spoke only in general terms; and be- 
 cause I could not go into details I offered to cancel 
 our contract and leave her as soon as we should laud 
 at Havre." 
 
 "And what would you have done, then, as 'a stran- 
 ger in a strange land,' Lilith? Would you have come 
 on to me?" inquired Hereward. 
 
 "Uncalled, and after all that had passed? Oh, no! 
 I could not have done that. I should have taken the 
 first steamer back to New York and returned to Aunt 
 Sophie." 
 
 "Aunt Sophie?" 
 
 "Mrs. Downie, the clergyman's widow, with whom 
 I had lived in New York. But Madame Von Bruyiii 
 would not consent to cancel our contract. She insisted 
 that I should remain with her. She was very good 
 about it all. Indeed, she treated me with more than 
 even her usual kindness, and from that hour I became 
 to her as a beloved and cherished sister. I think she 
 got over her sentimental fancy for you, for I think it 
 was nothing more than that." 
 
 "Probably not," said Hereward, with a smile. 
 
 "And when the 'Fairy Prince' appeared in the form 
 of Gherardini, I think the beauteous lady discovered 
 that she had never really been in love in all her life 
 before," added Lilith, archly. 
 
 "I am very glad to hear it. No heartier congratula-
 
 255 
 
 tions were ever offered to any bride than were mine to 
 the newly married princess to-day," said Hereward. 
 
 "And, by the way," suggested Lilith, "the bridal 
 pair are to leave for Marseilles, en route for Rome, at 
 five o'clock, and it must be near that hour now. Will 
 you return to the drawing-room or remain and await 
 me here?" 
 
 "I will go with you," said Hereward, as he arose 
 and offered Lilith his arm. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 HAPPY HOURS 
 
 THEY went back to the salon, which was BOW nearly 
 empty. Only a few late-comers were present, and they 
 were taking leave of the newly wedded pair. 
 
 When these had withdrawn from the room, Here- 
 ward led Lilith up to the receiving circle, and ad- 
 dressing the bride, said: 
 
 "Madame, I have to add to my congratulations the 
 most heartfelt and grateful acknowledgments. Words 
 cannot thank you for the boon you have given me in 
 the resoraticn of this lost treasure." 
 
 "Let us hope, Mr. Hereward, that you will in the 
 future guard that treasure too carefully ever to mis- 
 lay it again," archly replied the princess. 
 
 Hereward bowed deprecatingly. 
 
 "You remain in Paris some time, I hope?" 
 
 "I have a month's respite from official duties, ma- 
 dame." 
 
 "Then you will, perhaps, kindly permit me to place 
 this house at your disposal during your stay. Mrs. 
 Hereward had already arranged to remain here during 
 my absenc^. To change that plan at this late hour 
 would not be easy. So, if it would not inconvenience
 
 256 LILITH 
 
 you to take up jour quarters here for a season, you 
 would oblige me very much by doing so/' said the 
 princess. 
 
 "Madame, it is certainly my wife and myself who 
 are obliged in this matter. We feel your kindness, and 
 thank you very sincerely," replied Hereward. 
 
 "And now, Lilith, dear little sister, will you go with 
 me to my room? It is time to dress for the journey," 
 said the princess, drawing the arm of her young friend 
 within her own, bowing to the circle, and sailing out 
 of the salon. 
 
 When the two friends reached madame's sumptu- 
 ous dressing-room they found the lady's maid wait- 
 ing with the traveling suit of mouse-colored velvet, 
 plush hat, and marabout plumes of the same shade, 
 and silver fox fur cloak and muff, all laid ready for her 
 mistress. 
 
 "Madame," said Lilith, "I have to thank you for the 
 happiness of my life, though thanks can ill express all 
 I feel." 
 
 "Ah, bah, ma chere! I had planned this meeting 
 long ago. But, indeed, I was able to bring it about 
 even under better auspices than I had hoped. The 
 'sinner,' as Aunt Sophie calls Zuniga, helped me. I 
 shall find you here when I return four weeks hence, 
 I hope?" 
 
 "Yes, madame. You will reside in Paris, then, al- 
 ways?" 
 
 "Oh, no. Only during the season. We shall reside 
 principally in the Gherardini Castle, among the Apen- 
 nines, an old ancestral stronghold, which half charms, 
 half frightens me; but I shall know more about it 
 when I see it. And some day, Lilith, you will come 
 and spend a summer with us there, and help to lighten 
 the gloom." 
 
 "I thank you very much. I think that I should like 
 it extremely," answered the younger lady.
 
 LILITH 257 
 
 The princess' rich but plain toilet was soon finished, 
 and she went below, accompanied by Lilith. 
 
 The prince was waiting for her in the lower hall, 
 where all her household had gathered to bid the newly 
 married pair good-bye. 
 
 Aunt Sophie stood there, leaning on the arm of the 
 gallant old professor, and quietly smiling and weep- 
 ing the soft-hearted creature smiled and wept a little 
 at every wedding. 
 
 The domestics were gathered behind. 
 
 The prince and princess took a kindly leave of all, 
 and a most affectionate one of Aunt Sophie and Mon- 
 sieur Le Grange. 
 
 So, followed by the good wishes of their friends, 
 they left the maison. 
 
 Not until the assembled household had seen the 
 traveling carriage roll out of the court-yard gate did 
 they separate and disperse to their several quarters. 
 
 "I must go and see to those valuable wedding pres- 
 ents being locked carefully away. Indeed, I think I 
 shall finally send them to the valts of the bank. Will 
 madame graciously excuse me?" inquired the polite 
 Monsieur Le Grange, as he led Mrs. Downie to the 
 little salon. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir. Please go look after all that gold 
 and silver and jewels at once. It is an awful tempta- 
 tion to leave in the way of servants awful. And so 
 many strange waiters in the house, too!" said Mrs. 
 Downie, as she sank into a seat. 
 
 "Aunt Sophie," said Lilith, approaching on the arm 
 of Tudor, "this is Mr. Hereward, my husband. And 
 this lady, sir, is Mrs. Downie, who has been so kind to 
 me ever since I made her acquaintance." 
 
 "I am very glad to know you, madame, and very 
 grateful for all your goodness to my wife, in the days 
 of her adversity," said Hereward, taking the old lady's 
 little offered hand.
 
 258 LILITH 
 
 "Thanky, sir; I am happy, very, to see you; but as 
 for my being good to her, it's all even, I reckon. I 
 wasn't one bit better to her than she was to me, all 
 the time," said Mrs. Downie. 
 
 "You were like a mother to me, always," warmly re- 
 plied Lilith. 
 
 "Well, then, and wa'n't you all the same as an own 
 dear daughter to me? That she was, Mr. Hereward. 
 But, honey, I never knowed you had a husband, or a 
 father either, till this very afternoon. While you were 
 out of the room with Mr. Hereward the 'sinner* come 
 in to pay his respects to the bride and groom, and 
 then stood with me, behind the grandees, and told me 
 all about it how you was his daughter and Mr. Here- 
 ward's wife! Of course, naturally I knowed you must 
 have been somebody's daughter, honey; but the idea 
 of you being anybody's wife! Why, I didn't know you 
 was married!" exclaimed the old lady, in comic won- 
 der. 
 
 "Aunt Sophie, will you forgive me for not telling 
 you anything about my father or my husband? And 
 for all the secrets that I have kept from you, who was 
 like a mother to me?" inquired Lilith, tenderly taking 
 her old friend's hand. 
 
 "Lor', honey, what call have I got to forgive you? 
 Forgive you for what? For keeping of your father's 
 and your husband's secrets? Why, child, you hadn't 
 any right to tell other people's secrets. I reckon you 
 had none of your own; though most people do have 
 some secrets. Lor' ! everybody can't tell everything in 
 the world to everybody else, I reckon. 'T wouldn't do, 
 anyways. So don't say no more about that, my dear." 
 
 "You are very sweet, Aunt Sophie." 
 
 "Oh, no, I ain't, honey." 
 
 "I used to think, sometimes, that you looked at me 
 as if you suspected that I was not all I seemed to 
 be."
 
 LILITH 259 
 
 "No, honey; that wasn't it. I couldn't help seeing 
 that you had had great troubles very great troubles 
 for one so young and I used to look at you and won- 
 der what in this world they could be. But all the 
 time I know'd very well I know'd 'way down deep in 
 my heart that you was good and true, and didn't de- 
 serve to be so afflicted. And now it id proved as you 
 didn't. The 'sinner' told me all about it every bit 
 and I reckon I know more than you do, now, honey: 
 because the 'sinner' said that to-morrow he meant to 
 come to the house and tell you and Mr. Hereward all 
 that he had told yesterday to the baroness, and to- 
 day to me. So, of course, you see, you have got to 
 hear something you don't yet know." 
 
 "He told the baroness!" exclaimed Lilith, while 
 Hereward listened attentively. 
 
 "Yes, yesterday; and me to-day." 
 
 "Where is Zuniga now?" inquired Hereward. 
 
 "Gone back to the Hotel of Love, on the Kue River." 
 
 "Where?" inquired Hereward, looking to Lilith for 
 an explanation. 
 
 "Hotel du Louvre, Rue de Rivoli," said Lilith, add- 
 ing: "Aunt Sophie has not yet become accustomed to 
 foreign words." 
 
 "No, honey; and I never shall, neither never! 
 Now, everybody here calls the nicest man that I kaew 
 the 'sinner,' as if he was the only sinner in the world. 
 Why, we are all sinners, for that matter. And then 
 Mrs. Hereward here " 
 
 "Lilith! Lilith! dear Aunt Sophie." 
 
 "May I, honey? Well, anyhow, she told me how 
 'sinner' meant Sir and Mr. in the foreign language. 
 .Now, if all the Sirs and Mr.'s in foreign lands are so 
 wicked and so barefaced as to call themselves and 
 each other sinners, in that defiant manner, to their 
 yery faces, 1 say it don't speak well for foreign lands,
 
 260 LILITH 
 
 and the sooner we get back to New York and Brother 
 More's ministry the better." 
 
 "I quite agree with you, Mrs. Downie," said Here- 
 ward, laughing. 
 
 "And them waiters at the Hotel of no; I mean 
 the Hotel do Love which I thought they called them 
 goslings, but she says they were 'go-soons,' and that 
 name fitted them young mounseers right well, 'cause 
 the spry way they did fly around was enough to make 
 one's head giddy. But there ! I reckon as I am letting 
 my tongue run before my wit." 
 
 "Oh, now, Aunt Sophie, you shall not say such wick- 
 ed things about yourself. But tell me, did my father 
 leave no message for us?" 
 
 "Yes, honey. He asked me to tell you that he would 
 be here airly to-morrow morning. And I reckon as that 
 don't mean seven or eight o'clock, as it would with us, 
 but more likely half-past eleven or a quarter to twelve. 
 He said he wouldn't interrupt you this first evening 
 of your meeting. The 'sinner' is right-down consider- 
 ate for a sinner. And I must not intrude longer, 
 neither," said Aunt Sophie, rising to leave the small 
 salon in which this interview had taken place. 
 
 Both Hereward and Lilith protested against her go- 
 ing, but she said : 
 
 "Children, I have to see the remnants of the wed- 
 ding feast gathered into hampers, and tied up and 
 sent out to be distributed to the poor. And I reckon 
 there will be a great many more than 'twelve baskets 
 full.' The wine and fruit and potted things is to be 
 sent to the Hope-it-all of Sand Marree, or some such 
 name. Antoine knows. But the baroness wanted me 
 to see to it, to keep temptation out of the way of the 
 weak. You'll excuse me now?" 
 
 "Yes, Aunt Sophie, since you must go," said Lilith. 
 
 "And I'll send your tea up into this room, so you
 
 LILITH 261 
 
 can have it all to yourselves tater-tater, as these 
 funny foreigners say of two together, though what 
 they mean by it I don't know, unless it is potatoes, 
 which they do know how to cook I will say that for 
 them though why potatoes in this case nobody but 
 a foreigner could tell. Well, oh river! that means 
 good-bye, or something of that sort. I knw the moun- 
 seers often say it when they go 'way." 
 
 So speaking, half to her friends, half to herself, 
 in her soft, slow tones, Aunt Sophie passed out of the 
 room. 
 
 Tea was soon served to the reunited and really 
 happy pair, and as this refreshment was prepared 
 under the immediate supervision of Aunt Sophie 
 (who declared that though the mounseers and 
 gosoons were great on coffee, they could not begin 
 to make a decent cup of tea), it was really as good as 
 they could have obtained in their own home. 
 
 The evening of that exciting day was spent very 
 quietly. 
 
 The wearied household retired early and slept until 
 late in the morning. 
 
 Tudor Hereward, Aunt Sophie and Monsieur Le 
 Grange sat down to breakfast at ten o'clock. 
 
 They were still at the table when Senor Zuniga's 
 card was brought and laid before Mr. Hereward. 
 
 Lilith and Tudor arose at once and passed out to 
 the little salon where the visitor was waiting for 
 them. 
 
 Zuniga stood in the middle of the room. He wore 
 an elegant morning suit of dark olive; his long, curl- 
 ing black hair was carefully dressed; his gypsy face 
 full of droll humor. He looked more like a rollicking 
 boy than ever. 
 
 He advanced towards Lilith, took her in his arms 
 and kissed her fondly.
 
 LILITH 
 
 Then releasing her he held out his hand to Here- 
 ward, shouting, joyously: 
 "How are you, my dear son? 
 
 'It gives me wonder, great as my delight, 
 To see you here before me, oh! my soul's joy!' " 
 
 "I am very glad to meet you, Senor Zuniga," began 
 Hereward, in his stately manner. 
 "Father, my son! Call me father! 
 
 'Mislike me not for my complexion.' " 
 
 "Will you take this seat, dear?" inquired Lilith, 
 drawing forth one of the most comfortable chairs in 
 the room. 
 
 When they had all sat down, Hereward once more 
 said: 
 
 "I am really happy to see you, senor, and to have 
 this unpleasant family mystery, which has caused us 
 so much trouble, finally cleared up." 
 
 "So am I! So is Lilith! So are we all! Or, rather, 
 so we shall be when it is cleared up! But it is not 
 cleared up yet by a long shot! And so you shall soon 
 find. 
 
 'Lend me your ears!' . . 
 'I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
 Would harrow up thy soul!' 
 
 'Then shall you hear 
 Of moving accidents by flood and field, 
 Of being taken by the insolent foe 
 And sold to slavery!' 
 
 Are you ready to listen?" inquired the senor, as 
 he threw himself back in his chair. 
 
 "We are very anxious to hear," said Lilith. 
 
 "Very well, then," replied Senor Zuniga. 
 he began his story.
 
 LILITH 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Listen, how still waiting, dreaming 
 
 Of some wild, heroic life, 
 How the young heart, all unconscious, 
 
 Had really entered on the strife. 
 
 Now that I can reason calmly, 
 
 And look clearly back again, 
 I can see the brightest meaning 
 
 Threading each dark, torturing pain. 
 
 How the strong resolve was broken, 
 
 Why rash hope and foolish fear, 
 And the prayers which God in pity 
 
 Still refused to grant or hear. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 IT was a picturesque group gathered around that 
 table Zuniga, Hereward and Lilith. 
 
 Zimiga, with his slight, elegant and graceful form, 
 his dark complexion darker still with his luxuriant 
 black curls fine black eyes, shadowed with black 
 eyelashes, and arched by black eyebrows, and his 
 perfect features, the beautiful mouth not hidden by 
 the twirled moustache divided on the upper lip. 
 Zuniga, with his laughing, reckless, boyish air, 
 seemed the youngest of the group of whom he was 
 the father or at least the younger of the two men. 
 
 Hereward, with his tall and stately figure, his noble 
 head, blonde complexion, severe classic profile, and 
 steel-blue eyes, and with his grave and dignified de- 
 meanor, seemed, certainly, the elder of the two. 
 
 Lilith, in her simple and elegant morning dress of 
 white foulard silk, which well became her lovely 
 brunette beauty, sat between them, but nearer to the 
 Sefior Zuniga. 
 
 Had any stranger been told that here sat a mar-
 
 264, LILITH 
 
 ried pair and a father, and had been required to tell 
 "which was which," he would certainly have pointed 
 out Hereward as the father, and the two others as 
 the son and daughter. 
 
 Their relative ages were as follows: Zuniga was 
 thirty-eight, Hereward twenty-nine, and Lilith nine- 
 teen. 
 
 Zuniga began his story in his usual eccentric 
 manner: 
 
 "Esteemed son-in-law and beloved daughter! That 
 little personal pronoun, in the first person singular, 
 nominative case, is such a very obtrusive person, that 
 it should be suppressed on every possible occasion. 
 This autobiography, or fragment of autobiography, 
 then, shall be delivered in the third person, with your 
 consent. What do you say?" 
 
 Zuniga paused for a reply. 
 
 "As you like, senor," gravely responded Hereward. 
 
 "Yes, do, please," assented Lilith. 
 
 Zuniga proceeded: 
 
 "About thirty-five years ago Now don't throw 
 
 yourself back in your chair with such a look of antic- 
 ipated weariness, Hereward. Have more respect for 
 your venerable father-in-law, and set a better example 
 to my daughter, or I shall 'set' a mother-in-law over 
 your head, or, rather, a step-mother-in-law, which 
 must be a combination of domestic autocracy. Be- 
 sides, the story is not so long as the time. 
 
 "Well, about thirty-five years ago, the good ship 
 Polly Ann, of Glasgow, Swift, master, bound for New 
 York, when about half way across, sighted a non- 
 descript object, which, on nearer view and closer in- 
 spection, proved to be a raft, on which languished a 
 half-dead shipwrecked sailor, and a three-quarters 
 dead shipwrecked child. 
 
 "The victims were rescued, taken on board the 
 Polly Ann, and restored by such simple and effica-
 
 LILITH 265 
 
 cious treatment as was familiar to the skipper and his 
 crew as specifics 'for such cases made and provided.' 
 
 "The sailor was a man of about fifty winters; the 
 child, a boy of three summers though why the 
 winters should always be enumerated for the old, 
 and the summers for the young, is more than I can 
 understand, since both young and old have an equal 
 distribution of summers and winters in their years. 
 But this is a digression. 
 
 "As soon as the sailor was able to give an account 
 of himself and his fellow-sufferers, we learned that 
 they were the survivors of the ship Falcon, Captain 
 Pentecost, homeward bound from Havana to Liver- 
 pool, and foundered in the late equinoctial storm, 
 when in latitude this and that, and longitude so and 
 so; never mind the figures, they are forgotten long 
 ago, even if they were ever exactly known, which is 
 doubtful. 
 
 "The crew and passengers of the wrecked ship had 
 left it in two boats and on a raft. The captain had 
 taken command of the first boat, the first mate of 
 the second boat, and the second mate of the raft. 
 
 "The sailor could give no account of the fate of 
 either boat after they had left the wreck. 
 
 "On the raft besides himself, Zebedee Wyvil, second 
 mate of the Falcon, who was in command, there were 
 seven common seamen and three passengers; these 
 passengers being Sefior Don Alphonzo Zuniga and his 
 wife and child. 
 
 "A sad story could be told of the long sufferings 
 and terrible deaths of these shipwrecked victims, but 
 it would not only be quite useless, but altogether too 
 heart-rending. Besides which, tragedy is both un- 
 pleasant and unprofitable, except to the performers 
 on the stage, with an audience of two thousand per- 
 sons, averaging a dollar a head. 
 
 "In brief, all the passengers on the raft perished
 
 266 LILITH 
 
 from want and exposure, except the sailor, whose 
 strong vitality sustained him, and the child, for 
 whose sake all had denied themselves from the be- 
 ginning. 
 
 "You may be sure that the captain and the crew 
 of the Polly Ann were very much interested in the 
 story of the shipwrecked sailor and the child. The 
 captain gave Zebedee Wyvil a berth as soon as he 
 was able to handle a rope; and one and another talked 
 of adopting the little Spanish waif. But Zebedee 
 Wyvil informed all and sundry that the child was 
 his own treasure trove, and that he should keep it 
 until it should be claimed by those, if any such lived, 
 who should have a better right to it than himself. 
 
 "Certainly no one on the Polly Ann ventured after 
 that to dispute Wyvil's possession of the little Zuuiga. 
 
 "In due time the Polly Ann reached New York, 
 discharged her cargo of linen, tartan, Paisley shawls, 
 and so forth; loaded with another cargo of tobacco 
 and cotton, and cleared for Glasgow, Zebedee Wyvil 
 going as third mate, and taking with him his treasure 
 trove, to which arrangement no one, under the circum- 
 stances, objected. 
 
 "In due time also the Polly Ann reached Glasgow, 
 and there Mate Wyvil, who had only engaged for the 
 homeward voyage, left the ship, taking his little 
 Spanish boy with him. 
 
 "Zebedee Wyvil was a bachelor; and he was the 
 main support of his sister-in-law, the widow of his 
 younger brother, Andrew, and of her two children, 
 Joseph and Elizabeth, who lived at Stockton, a small 
 village in the West Riding of Yorkshire. 
 
 "Zebedee Wyvil, when on shore, always made his 
 home with this sister-in-law. 
 
 "Now, on leaving his ship, he resolved to take the 
 Spanish child with him to Stockton, and place him 
 under the care of this sister-in-law.
 
 LILITH 267 
 
 "But first he bethought him of having the boy chris- 
 tened, lest that necessary ceremony had not already 
 been performed. 
 
 "So he took the lad to St. John's Church in Glas- 
 gow and had him christened Joseph Wyvil, in honor 
 of his Zebedee's own father. 
 
 "Then he carried the child to his own home and 
 presented him to his sister-in-law. 
 
 "The widow and her children received the sailor 
 and the orphan boy with great kindness; but when 
 his name was given 
 
 " 'Joseph Wyvil!' exclaimed the widow. 'Why, 
 what in the name of sense put you on giving the bairn 
 that name?' 
 
 " 'It was the name of my old feyther, as good a 
 man as ever lived/ retorted Zebedee. 
 
 " 'But it is the name of my own lad!' 
 
 " 'So it be! I had forgot that same.' 
 
 " 'And now if the bairn bides wi' us there'll be two 
 Joseph Wyvils in the one house.' 
 
 " 'Well, then, and there cannot be too many Joseph 
 Wyvils anywhere, if they be one and all as good as 
 the first of the name! And, moreover, to distinguish 
 the lads apart, we may even call the elder Joseph, 
 and the younger Joe/ concluded Zebedee. 
 
 "And as he carried the purse, his will was law in 
 that little household, and so the point was settled. 
 His nephew was known as Joseph Wyvil, and his 
 little treasure trove as Joe. 
 
 "Joseph was a fine, strong, red-haired and freckle- 
 faced youth of ten, Joe an ugly little black-a-vizzed 
 monkey of four, and Elizabeth, or 'Lil/ a pretty baby 
 of two years. 
 
 "Uncle Zeb left all his pay with his sister and 
 shipped for another long voyage. 
 
 "The three children were brought up together and 
 in due time sent to school.
 
 268 LILITH 
 
 "Joe, as the adopted son of Uncle Zeb, was taught 
 to call the Widow Wyvil 'Aunt/ and her children each 
 'Cousin.' 
 
 "Years went by with but little of incident to the 
 humble household, except in the periodical home-com- 
 ing and sea-going of Uncle Zeb. 
 
 "When Joseph Wyvil, the widow's son, was fifteen 
 years of age, he was taken from school and appren- 
 ticed to a house carpenter, and in time he became a 
 very skilful workman. 
 
 "When Joe was about twelve years old he was 
 placed in a collegiate school by his adopted father, 
 w r hose ambition it was to get his son in the naval 
 academy. 
 
 "He remained in that school for three years, dur- 
 ing which time two members of the small family 
 passed away Zebedee Wyvil died of yellow fever, 
 while his ship was in port in Havana; and Susan 
 Wyvil succumbed to pulmonary consumption, in her 
 cottage home at Stockton. 
 
 "At the end of the third year Joe left the collegiate 
 school. Not that his preparatory course was finished, 
 and not that he wished to leave, but because the 
 quarterly payments for his board and tuition had 
 ceased with his adopted father's life. 
 
 "And though the masters, knowing the case and 
 the circumstances, would have kept him longer, the 
 pride of this son of the hidalgoes would not suffer 
 him to receive the favor. 
 
 "You may object that he had already received 
 favors from humbler people, in having been adopted 
 and cared for by the mate of the Falcoa. Ah, but 
 that was so different! Old Zebedee Wyvil had seemed 
 like his own father. He had known no other. 
 
 "Well, he left the college, and went home to Stock- 
 ton, to those who seemed like his own people, poor 
 as they were, since they were all he had left.
 
 LILITH 269 
 
 "He found his cousins, as be called them, still liv- 
 ing together, and occupying the old cottage. 
 
 "Joseph was now a fine young man of twenty-one, 
 doing a thriving business at his trade, and making 
 a very comfortable home for his young sister Lil, 
 a lovely girl of thirteen, who kept house for him, 
 and to whom he was devotedly attached yes, so de- 
 votedly attached that friends and neighbors all said 
 Joseph Wyvil would never take a wife while that be- 
 loved sister remained unmarried and in his home. 
 
 "This sister and brother received poor Joe with 
 the most affectionate welcome, making him feel per- 
 fectly at home and at ease. 
 
 "In return for all this kindness the dark and 
 swarthy descendant of the Castilians fell desperately 
 in love with the fair-skinned, blue-eyed and flaxen- 
 haired child of the Saxons. He made such ardent 
 and persistent love to the little maid that Lil grew 
 frightened and fled his company, yet never complained 
 of him to her big brother the little angel! I mean 
 she Lil was the little angel, you will all please to 
 understand, and not the big brother, though he was a 
 good fellow enough. 
 
 "Ah, well, after Lil repulsed and fled from him, and 
 shunned him altogether as if he had been the horned 
 and hoofed demon himself, he grew desperate and 
 went off to sea. 
 
 "Being fairly well educated, and having permission 
 to refer to his college masters, he got a good berth 
 from the first, as captain's clerk in an East India mer- 
 chantman. 
 
 "For some months all went well enough, and Joe 
 'won golden opinions from all sorts of officers and 
 men. But being a wild, reckless, impulsive, rollick- 
 ing sort of a little devil, he soon began to get into 
 all manner of troubles, though he always contrived
 
 270 LILITH 
 
 to get out of them again, falling like a cat on his 
 feet. 
 
 "During all this time he kept up an irregular cor- 
 respondence with his cousin Joseph, freely confessing 
 all his peccadilloes, but stipulating that no one was 
 to tell Lil. 
 
 "After a three years' voyage all around the world, 
 Joe came home, and went straight to the dear old cot- 
 tage at Stockton. 
 
 "He found the house and garden enlarged and im- 
 proved in proportion to Joseph Wyvil's increased 
 prosperity. 
 
 "Joe was now a sun-burned sailor boy of eighteen, 
 much darker and very much more of a dare-devil than 
 ever. 
 
 "Lil was sixteen, and more beautiful than before. 
 She was still the idol of her brother, for whom she 
 kept house, and who for his dear sister's sake, as it 
 was said remained unmarried and unengaged. 
 
 "The brother and sister received their saiior cousin 
 with all their old confiding affection. Lil had for- 
 given his presumption and forgotten her fears of 
 him. 
 
 "But, ah! poor Joe! His passion for this 'fair one 
 with golden locks' was rekindled into such a fierce 
 flame that nothing on earth seemed strong enough 
 to resist it. 
 
 "It was her love or somebody's life! 
 
 "He demanded to marry Lil right off. 
 
 "But her brother opposed such precipitate meas- 
 ures; urged that both parties were much too young 
 to dream of marriage, Joe being eighteen, and Lil 
 but sixteen. Why, he said that he, himself, Joseph 
 Wyvil, his elder by six years, did not yet contemplate 
 matrimony. Besides, he could, in any case, give his 
 sister a comfortable home yet for many years, or even
 
 LILITH 271 
 
 for her whole life, while Joe had no home to take her 
 to, and had still his own way to make in the world. 
 
 "In answer to all this, Joe, with the modest as- 
 surance or shall we say consummate impudence? of 
 his nature, proposed that he should immediately 
 marry Lil and that they should continue to live on 
 at the cottage until he should have to go to sea again, 
 when he would leave his wife as heretofore in her 
 old home under the protection of her brother. 
 
 "Naturally enough, Mr. Wyvil did not see the ex- 
 cellence of this arrangement in quite so strong and 
 vivid a light as did Joe and even Lil. 
 
 "After laughing a little at the ingenuous proposal, 
 he reverted to his first argument, that both were too 
 young, foolish and impecunious to be married add- 
 ing that a boy of eighteen and a girl of sixteen, who 
 talked of such a proceeding, should be locked up for 
 a calendar mouth on a depleting diet of bread and 
 water. 
 
 "Whereupon the Spanish lad eagerly declared that 
 as for himself he would most joyfully submit to the 
 terms, bread, water, imprisonment and everything 
 else that might be required to purchase the indul- 
 gence, if only Joseph would be so good as to lock 
 him and his sweetheart up in the same room. 
 
 "For all answer to that suggestion, Mr. Wyvil in- 
 formed the ardent lover that he was a lunatic and 
 should be sent to a mad-house. 
 
 "Opposition only added fuel to the flame of Joe's 
 passion. Mr. Wyvil did not understand the difference 
 between the dark blood and the bright when he con- 
 temptuously characterized that passion as puppy love. 
 
 "Mr. Wyvil went off to his work. He was finishing 
 the interior of a church at that time. Joe raved and 
 Lil cried. And then they took their fate into their 
 own hands. They resolved to run away and get mar- 
 ried! Or rather to sneak away.
 
 272 LILITH 
 
 "Late that night, when honest Joseph Wyvil was 
 in bed and asleep, Joe and Lil, in traveling rig, and 
 with a couple of small valises, in which all their 
 worldly goods were packed, and which were gallantly 
 carried by the gentleman, who balanced them one in 
 each brown hand, Joe and Lil sneaked out of the 
 back door, and under cover of the darkness, trudged 
 on to the railway station, where they took the 12.30 
 train to Scotland. 
 
 "They left the train the next morning only to has- 
 ten to the nearest minister's house to get married. 
 As soon as the ceremony was concluded and they 
 had got a bit of breakfast at the counter of the rail- 
 way station, standing up at it, uncomfortably, to 
 drink weak and lukewarm coffee and eat stale sand- 
 wiches, they took the next train back to England. 
 
 "But not daring to face Joseph Wyvil in the first 
 hours of his 'roused wrath,' they shunned the neigh- 
 borhood of Stockton and stopped at a little Yorkshire 
 village of Orton, not far from the city of Carlisle. 
 
 "They took lodgings at a pretty, picturesque little 
 farm-house called Hayhurst, from which retreat they 
 both wrote a mutual penitent letter to Joseph Wyvil, 
 expressing profound sorrow for having disobeyed 
 and offended so dear and good a brother, but declar- 
 ing that they could not do otherwise, as, though he 
 had forbidden them to think of marriage, they loved 
 each other so much that they must either marry or 
 die, and they ended by imploring his forgiveness, and 
 signing themselves his devoted, obedient, loving 
 brother and sister, Lil and Joe. 
 
 "Both Joe and Lil thought this letter so very touch- 
 ing, eloquent, pathetic and convincing that it must 
 bring Mr. Wyvil hurrying to them in person with open 
 arms and fervent blessings. 
 
 "And they waited for some such happy result.
 
 LILITH 273 
 
 "But no Mr. Wjvil came to greet their longing eyes. 
 And no letter came in answer to theirs. 
 
 "Every day Joe went to the village post-office, but 
 found nothing for them. 
 
 "A fortnight passed in this suspense, and then Joe 
 suggested that their letter might have miscarried, and 
 so they sat down together and indited a second letter, 
 more penitent, more pathetic, more eloquent and con- 
 vincing than the first. Joe posted it with his own 
 hands, and they both waited confidently for some 
 happy result. 
 
 "None came. Another fortnight passed, and then 
 Joe grew angry and Lil anxious. 
 
 " 'If a man is not satisfied with repentance and con- 
 fession he is no Christian,' said Joe. 
 
 " 'But we don't repent, and we only confess what is 
 already known; and perhaps Joseph is sick/ sug- 
 gested Lil. 
 
 "Then Joe wrote a confidential letter to a mutual 
 friend in Stockton, making inquiries concerning Mr. 
 Joseph Wyvil. In due time he received an answer, 
 stating that Mr. Wyvil was well and prosperous, but 
 so very deeply offended by the runaway marriage that 
 he would not permit his sister's or his cousin's name 
 to be mentioned in his presence. The writer con- 
 cluded his letter in some such words as these: 
 
 " 'Give him time and he will come around. He is 
 too good-hearted a man and too fond of his sister, 
 and even of you, to hold out against you both much 
 longer.' 
 
 "Lil cried a good deal over this, but Joe encour- 
 aged her, and so did their landlady, Mrs. Claxton, 
 who had taken a great fancy to the young pair. 
 
 "Fortunately, Joe had thirty pounds saved up from 
 his three years' pay as captain's clerk, and so there 
 was no fear of immediate embarrassment.
 
 274 LILITH 
 
 "Lil, led on by the landlady, interested herself in 
 farm life, in the daily and in the poultry yard. She 
 was pleased to be permitted to help to skim the milk, 
 or to churn the butter, or to look after the newly 
 hatched, pretty little fluffy chickens and ducklings; 
 and though she often heaved a sigh at the thought of 
 her brother, it soon passed away, leaving no trace be- 
 hind. 
 
 "Joe was more to be pitied. He was in more dan- 
 ger from his idle and objectless life of the present 
 moment. He went daily to the village, and what was 
 worse, he went nightly to the Tawny Lion, the vil- 
 lage ale-house, where he formed acquaintance with 
 the young farmers and mechanics of the neighbor- 
 hood, all tenants of Squire Hawkhurst, of Hawkhurst 
 Hall. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A FATAL SNARE 
 
 "JUST now the whole neighborhood was excited 
 over the situation at the Hall. Young Mr. James 
 Hawkhurst, nephew and heir of Squire Hawkhurst, 
 was a sort of Prince Hal, in his way, and had by his 
 wild life and free manners at the same time won the 
 love of all his young tenants, whose boon companion 
 at the ale-house he frequently became, and the indig- 
 nation of his uncle, who threatened to disinherit him. 
 
 "This, the gossips of the village said, the squire 
 had the legal power to do, since the estate was not 
 entailed; but they also urged that the squire had 
 no moral right to rob his heir of that land which he 
 should justly inherit, not only from his immediate
 
 LILITH 275 
 
 progenitor, but from the long line of ancestors who 
 had gone before him. 
 
 "This was the view taken by all the youthful ten- 
 ants and boon companions of the young squire. 
 
 "At every evening gathering in the tap-room of 
 the Tawny Lion, Joe heard this matter discussed, and 
 naturally he took sides with the young squire and 
 his followers. 
 
 "At length, when Joe and Lil had been in the 
 neighborhood for about five weeks, a crisis came in 
 the affairs of the Hall. 
 
 "It was understood that a very violent scene had 
 ensued between the old squire and the young one, 
 which had ended in the banishment of the young 
 squire, who had left the Hall in disgrace and had 
 taken lodgings at the Tawny Lion. 
 
 "In a day or two it was ascertained that the old 
 squire had had a 'stroke/ and was not expected to 
 live through the week. 
 
 "A servant from the Hall had brought the new r s 
 to the circle at the ale-house, that a telegram had 
 been sent to the solicitor of the old squire, Mr. John 
 Ketchain, of Carlisle, to come immediately down to 
 the Hall to remain with the squire until the end, and 
 to take charge of affairs; also to bring with him the 
 squire's last will, which disinherited the heir and left 
 the estate to u hospital, and which was already signed 
 and sealed. 
 
 "Lawyer Ketcham, the man added, was expected to 
 arrive at Stockbridge, the nearest railway station, by 
 the 9:50 express, and would come on to the Hall by 
 the railway stage-coach, which ran twice a day be- 
 tween Stockbridge and Orton. 
 
 "The news brought by the servant from the Hall 
 excited a great deal of indignation among the men 
 present.
 
 276 LILITH 
 
 "Much foolish talk was indulged in. Many worse 
 than foolish threats were made. 
 
 "In the midst of it all, Joe, who was as usual pres- 
 ent, got up and left the place, and hurried home to 
 Hayhurst Farm to take tea with Lil. 
 
 "He found the people at the farm all in a state of 
 extreme excitement at some news brought by a cow- 
 boy, to the effect that the old squire had just breathed 
 his last. Not that they were so much interested in 
 the old squire as the young one. 
 
 "Mrs. Claxton, the farmer's wife, hoped that no will 
 had been made, in which case the young squire would 
 of course inherit as heir-at-law. 
 
 "Then Joe contributed his mite of intelligence 
 gleaned from the circle in the tap-room of the Tawny 
 Lion, to the effect that the obnoxious will had been 
 made, signed and sealed, and that it was then in the 
 hands of Lawyer Ketcham, who was on his way from 
 London to Orton, to take charge of affairs at the 
 Hall. 
 
 "And now Mrs. Claxton prayed the Lord might for- 
 give her for hoping that some accident might happen 
 to the train or to the stage coach, to prevent that 
 wicked will ever coming to light. 
 
 "After tea, some one suggested that the report of 
 the old squire's death might possibly be a false one, 
 and suggested that some one else should go over to 
 the Hall and ascertain the truth. 
 
 "Joe, the least tired of all the men present, be- 
 cause they had been hard at work all day and he had 
 not been at work at all, good-naturedly volunteered 
 for the service. 
 
 "Everybody thanked him, and he got up to go. 
 Everybody laughed when he kissed Lil, as if he had 
 been going on a long journey instead of a short walk. 
 
 "Ah me! how little we know what we do! Joe set
 
 LILITH 277 
 
 out to be gone half an hour; but he never saw the 
 farm-house again. 
 
 "Joe went on to the Hall, gayly whistling and ut- 
 terly unconscious of the impending tragedy of his life. 
 
 "At the Hall he found the servants closing the 
 window-shutters, although it was not yet dark; from 
 that circumstance he gained confirmation of the re- 
 port of the squire's death, even before their words 
 had given it. 
 
 " 'But Lawyer Ketcham is expected down to-night 
 to look after affairs, and nothing more can be done 
 until his arrival,' was the volunteered communication 
 of the old butler. 
 
 "Joe thanked the man and turned to go back to 
 the farm. Ah! if he had only gone back to the farm, 
 what woe would have been spared him and all con- 
 nected with him. Strange on what seeming trifles 
 human destiny hangs. Venerable reflection that! 
 
 "If Joe had turned to the east instead of the west, 
 on leaving the park gates, his whole life would have 
 been different. The east path would have led him 
 back to the farm and to safety. The west path led 
 him to the gates of perdition. 
 
 "The reason why, at the last moment, he turned 
 to the west was simple enough. He remembered 
 that there was an evening mail due at the village, 
 and thought it just possible that Joseph Wyvil, re- 
 lenting towards Lil and Joe, might have written a 
 letter, and that he should find it at the post-office 
 and have the delight of taking it home to rejoice the 
 heart of the young wife. So he turned to the west, 
 instead of to the east, and so decided his o^n fate. 
 
 "Joe trudged all the way to the village, whistling 
 gayly as he went. 
 
 "He found no letter in the post-office, and feeling 
 much disappointed, he turned to go home to the farm- 
 house, through the gathering darkness.
 
 278 LILITH 
 
 "The way was long, and the sky was black with 
 night and clouds. Joe thought to take a short cut 
 through some thick woods, but in attempting to do 
 so lost his way and wandered about for some time 
 before he came out on a part of the high road un- 
 familiar to him. 
 
 "He turned into this; but was utterly at a loss what 
 direction to take. 
 
 "Presently, however, he heard footsteps and voices 
 approaching, and he spoke aloud, asking to be directed 
 the nearest way to Hayhurst Farm. 
 
 "By that time the approaching party had come up 
 with him, and one of them, who had recognized his 
 voice, called out: 
 
 " 'Is that you, Joe?' 
 
 " 'Yes, Thomas Estel, it is I, and I have lost my 
 way in the dark, and want to be set on my right road 
 for Hayhurst Farm,' replied the youth. 
 
 " 'All right. But come with us first. We won't keep 
 you long. And you'll see some roaring fun.' 
 
 " 'But it is late, and I want to get home to Lil,' 
 objected Joe. 
 
 " 'And so you shall in good time; but come with 
 us first.' 
 
 " 'Where are you going?' 
 
 " 'Not out of your way home. Quite on the same 
 road. This road. Such a lark! You'll never forgive 
 yourself if you miss it.' 
 
 "Poor Joe! He was always ready for a lark. He 
 joined himself to the half dozen boys, whom, as his 
 eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he began 
 to recognize as his village acquaintances; but more 
 from their general appearance than from their faces, 
 which were all half masked. 
 
 " 'Is it mumming?' inquired Joe. 
 
 " 'Something like that,' replied Estel. 
 
 "And they went on together down the road, which
 
 LILITH 279 
 
 deepened into a dark dell, or gully, between two high, 
 wooded banks. 
 
 "Here they paused and waited. 
 
 " 'What are you stopping for?' inquired Joe. 
 
 " 'Oh! you'll soon see/ replied a boy named Bur- 
 ton. 
 
 " 'I wish you would let me go on. I know Lil will 
 be anxious,' pleaded Joe. 
 
 " 'So you shall in a minute or two. Wait a bit/ 
 
 "Estel and Burton were stretching a rope across 
 the road and tying its extremities to trees on the 
 opposite sides. 
 
 "Joe watched them uneasily. 
 
 " 'What are you doing that for?' he anxiously in- 
 quired. 
 
 " 'Ax us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, 
 youngster,' laughed Burton. 
 
 " 'I'm going home!' retorted Joe; and he turned to 
 leave the party and to try to find his way to the farm 
 alone. 
 
 "But at that moment the sound of wheels was 
 heard rapidly approaching from the direction to 
 which Joe had set his face, and at the same time the 
 lanterns of the swiftly-rolling stage coach gleamed 
 through the darkness. 
 
 "Another instant and the leaders had reached the 
 unseen barrier, tripped and reared. At the same mo- 
 ment the bits were seized, the coach was surrounded, 
 and oaths and curses, cries and screams, and dire con- 
 fusion filled the scene. In the struggle with the rear- 
 ing and plunging horses the coach was overturned, 
 the lanterns extinguished, and utter darkness was 
 added to the horror of the situation. 
 
 "Joe Wyvil stood at a little distance, transfixed 
 with amazement at the suddenness of the catastro- 
 phe that he did not in the least understand. He 
 never for a moment suspected that the stopping of
 
 280 LILITH 
 
 the stage coach, was the 'lark' alluded to by his com- 
 panions, for why should they stop the stage coach? 
 They were not highway robbers, even if highway 
 robbers were not utterly out of date in England in 
 this century. No; he supposed the whole affair to 
 have been an accident, unintentionally caused by the 
 boys stretching that rope across the road in pursuit 
 of some other 'lark;' to trip up some foot passenger, 
 perhaps, whom they meant to make the victim of 
 some practical joke. 
 
 "Only for an instant he stood panic-stricken, and 
 then he darted into the horrible mele'e to find out if 
 he could be of any assistance. 
 
 "At the same moment he perceived through the 
 murky darkness the figures of two men in silent, 
 deadly struggle, and then he heard, through the 
 groans and shrieks, the stern voice of some man say- 
 ing: 
 
 " 'Hand over that wicked will, you villainous law 
 shark, or I will save the hangman a job by strangling 
 you with my own hands!' or compliments to that 
 effect. 
 
 "A fiercer, deadlier struggle ensued, and then the 
 flash and report of a pistol, and the heavy fall of one 
 of the men. 
 
 "Almost at the same instant the scene was filled 
 with a posse comitatus of constables and laborers, 
 drawn to the spot by the shrieks and cries that had 
 given the alarm. 
 
 "A murder had been committed, and Joe Wyvil 
 was found bending over the dead man, with the fallen 
 pistol on the ground at his feet, when he was rudely 
 collared and well shaken by the strong hand of the 
 constable who arrested him. 
 
 "But so utterly dazed and confounded was the boy 
 by all that had so suddenly happened to him, like 
 a hurricane or an earthquake in its' swift destruc-
 
 LILITH 281 
 
 tion, that he was totally unable to give any intel- 
 ligible account of himself. 
 
 "His companions had fled, and taken to the covert 
 of the woods on either side. Joe, the guiltless, was 
 the only one arrested. 
 
 "With the help of many hands the overturned stage 
 coach was righted, and the passengers all of whom, 
 except the murdered man, were more frightened than 
 hurt got upon their feet and were helped to their 
 places. 
 
 "The stage driver, somewhat bruised and shaken, 
 was assisted to mount his box and take the reins 
 once more in his hands, and so the coach resumed its 
 journey. 
 
 "Nothing but the dead man on the roadside and 
 the wretched boy in custody remained to tell the tale 
 of the catastrophe. 
 
 "The dead body was placed on a hastily procured 
 plank, and borne away to the police station to await 
 the action of the coroner. And the boy, with hand- 
 cuffs on his wrists, was marched off between two con- 
 stables to the lock-up house. 
 
 "Poor Joe was no hero. This violent separation 
 from Lil; this stern arrest and imprisonment; this 
 sudden, overwhelming calamity was so wondrous, so 
 incredible that he could not realize or believe in it, 
 but rather imagined himself to be the victim of some 
 horrible nightmare dream from which he tried to 
 awaken. 
 
 "Yet still he told a pitiable tale to the constable 
 of how he had been unconsciously drawn into that 
 fatal adventure, and begged that some one might be 
 sent to Hayhurst to his little wife, to tell her that he 
 was only detained on business, and would return to 
 her as soon as he possibly could. 
 
 "The officer, half in pity for the boy, half in im- 
 patience at bis importunity, I suppose, promised to
 
 282 LILITH 
 
 do all that he wished, and so locked hirn up for the 
 night. 
 
 "Poor Joe was but a child, after all, and he cried 
 all night long. 
 
 "In the morning he was taken before a magistrate, 
 and charged with highway robbery and murder 
 the robbery of the stage coach and the murder of 
 Lawyer Ketcham. 
 
 "Joe, to save the name of his adopted family from 
 reproach, gave his own as John Weston, saying to 
 himself that he had about as much right to the one 
 as to the other. 
 
 "He told his little story, but no one believed it, 
 and he was duly committed to jail, to take his trial 
 at the forthcoming assizes. 
 
 "He had not seen or heard of his young wife since 
 his arrest. 
 
 "Again he childishly implored constable and jailer 
 not to let Lil know the truth of his misery, but to 
 send her word that he was detained on business, and 
 would come to her as soon as he could. 
 
 "And, as before, half in pity and half in impatience, 
 they promised everything he required. 
 
 "Joe was too deeply humiliated to write to any 
 one. It is all very well to talk about the support of 
 conscious innocence, but it is reasonable to conclude 
 that a man who is by his nature utterly incapable of 
 crime suffers much more under its false imputation 
 than does the darkest of criminals. Conscious inno 
 cence did not help poor little Joe much. He pined 
 under the false charge, so ashamed of it that he could 
 not prevail upon himself to write to any friend. 
 
 "But one day his prison door w r as opened and 
 Joseph Wyvil entered the cell, his honest face full of 
 sympathy, his kind eyes full of tears, his voice full of 
 affection, as he stretched out his hands and took Joe's, 
 saying:
 
 LILITH 
 
 " 'My poor, poor boy!' 
 
 " 'You don't believe I did it, Joseph?' said Joe. 
 
 " 'I know you did not. I know you could not!' an- 
 swered Joseph, pressing the hands he held. 
 
 " 'And, oh! Lil!' cried Joe. 
 
 " 'Lil does not doubt you ; but she is too ill to come 
 to the prison. She is with me in the town here.' 
 
 " 'Xot not dangerously ill?' 
 
 " 'Oh, no. Only prostrated; but confident in your 
 innocence, Joe.' 
 
 " 'God bless her! God bless you! You have for- 
 given us, Joseph?' 
 
 " 'I forgave you from the first; I only intended to 
 teach you a lesson by holding off for a bit. I wish I 
 had not done it now. Perhaps if I had not, this would 
 not have happened; but, Joe, it will all come right. 
 I will take care of Lil until you are out again, and 
 I will spend my last shilling in securing the best coun- 
 sel I can get to defend you and to clear you, Joe, old 
 fellow!' 
 
 " 'Oh, Joseph! I don't deserve it from you! Not 
 from you!' 
 
 " 'You are my cousin and my brother!' said honest 
 Joseph. 
 
 "It is nearly impossible to give the exact words of 
 this conversation from memory; but such, at least, 
 was its purport. 
 
 "He stayed as long as the rules of the prison would 
 permit, and then, having cheered Joe with hopes of a 
 happy issue out of his trouble, and with promises 
 to stand by him to the end, and to bring Lil to see 
 him as soon as she should be able to come, Joseph 
 shook hands with the prisoner and left him. 
 
 "The next day the faithful brother returned to the 
 jail even before the doors were opened, and waited 
 until he could be admitted to see Joe. 
 
 "He brought cheering news that he had engaged
 
 284. LILITH 
 
 the services of one of the most distinguished lawyers 
 in Carlisle, Mr. John Rocke, to defend the accused 
 boy, and that the counsel would visit the prisoner in 
 the course of the day. 
 
 " 'But how is Lil?' eagerly demanded Joe, more con- 
 cerned about the health of his little bride than about 
 his own vindication and deliverance. 
 
 " 'Lil is better since I saw you and reported well 
 of you. Poor Lil feared that you would be as heavily 
 prostrated as she has been by this sudden and over- 
 whelming blow, but now since she knows that you 
 bear it so bravely, she is more hopeful and conse- 
 quently stronger. I shall bring her to see you to- 
 morrow.' 
 
 " 'Thank Heaven for that! But as to my bearing 
 this infernal wrong ' 
 
 " 'Don't swear, my poor boy,' Joseph mildly inter- 
 posed here. 
 
 " 'I'm not swearing. Infernal isn't an oath; but 
 it is the truth. It is an infernal wrong, and I have 
 not borne it bravely at all! I have not borne it in 
 any way until you came to see me, dear Joseph!' 
 passionately exclaimed the imprisoned boy. 
 
 " 'Stop that and listen to all the messages that Lil 
 has sent you,' pleaded Joseph. 
 
 "And then to attentive ears he repeated all the 
 loving, confiding and encouraging words of the little 
 bride to her imprisoned husband. 
 
 "The arrival of the counsel, Mr. Rocke, interrupted 
 this tete-a-tete. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil introduced the visitor to Joe. 
 
 "And then when the three men were seated the 
 lawyer on the solitary wooden chair and Joseph and 
 Joe side by side on the narrow cot the young pris- 
 oner told his story, of how he was returning home 
 from the Orton post-office to Hayhurst Farm, when 
 he accidentally fell in with a gang of boys who told
 
 LILITH 285 
 
 him they were going on a lark and pressed him to 
 join them; how, partly from curiosity to know what 
 they were going to do and partly from willingness 
 to oblige them, he joined the gang without the faint- 
 est suspicion that they intended to do any unlawful 
 deed, and that the stopping of the stage coach and 
 the murder of the lawyer came upon him with the 
 sudden shock and horror of an earthquake. 
 
 " 'I said the murder of the lawyer, but I should 
 rather have said the death of the lawyer, for I am sure 
 it was an accident.' 
 
 " 'An accident! Why, he was certainly shot by one 
 of the assailants!' said Mr. Rocke. 
 
 " 'No, he was shot by himself.' 
 
 " 'By himself!' exclaimed Messrs. Rocke and Wyvil 
 in a breath. 
 
 " 'Yes; listen,' said Joe. 'Now that I can look back 
 coolly on all that happened and put things together, 
 I can understand much that at the time of the action 
 was incomprehensible to me. And 1 am sure that no 
 violence was intended beyond the seizure of a docu- 
 ment in the green bag of the family solicitor. When 
 the coach was overturned I thought it was an acci- 
 dent, and as soon as I recovered from the momen- 
 tary shock I ran to the rescue. In the mele"e, through 
 the obscurity, I saw two men struggling one of the 
 gang Thomas Estel the other a passenger of the 
 coach the lawyer. The first was trying to get pos- 
 session of the bag, the second was holding it fast to 
 his side with one hand, and with the other drawing a 
 pistol from his breast pocket, which he leveled at his 
 assailant. Estel struck the muzzle of the pistol up, 
 and it went off, shooting the lawyer under the chin. 
 There! I saw all that,' said Joe. 'And the next 
 minute the posse was upon us and I was in custody. 
 All the rest of the gang had fled.' 
 
 " 'And as usual,' added Joseph Wyvil 'as usual,
 
 286 LILITH 
 
 the only guiltless one of the party became the scape- 
 goat for the guilty. Have any arrests been made 
 since?' 
 
 " 'Oh, yes! several noted roughs and poachers, on 
 suspicion, but every one proved an alibi and got off.' 
 
 " 'And Estel?' 
 
 " 'Estel and another chap, one Burton, both respec- 
 table young farmers, and tenants of Squire Hawk- 
 hurst, have disappeared from the neighborhood.' 
 
 " 'Do you know,' inquired the young prisoner, 
 'how it all goes on at the Hall? I cannot help think- 
 ing that all this came about through the old squire's 
 wicked will, and that it was only to get possession 
 of that will and destroy it that the stage coach was 
 stopped.' 
 
 " 'Very likely,' replied Mr. Eocke. 'But as for 
 affairs at the Hall, of course, after the death of the 
 lawyer, who was on his way down to take them in 
 charge, the bailiff, who was entirely in the interests of 
 the discharged nephew, notified Mr. James, who had 
 gone to town, and the young squire arrived in time to 
 take charge of his uncle's funeral. After which, as 
 heir-at-law, he entered into the undisputed possession 
 of the estate, inherited not only from his immediate 
 progenitor who had no just right to cut him off from 
 it, but from a long line of ancestors.' 
 
 " 'Well,' sighed Joe, 'I am glad he enjoys his own 
 again, though it costs so much, and though I never 
 would have joined them that helped him to it, if I 
 had known they were going to break the peace.' 
 
 "The lawyer questioned Joe farther as to his un- 
 conscious connection with the stage robbers of that 
 fatal night, and after noting down all his replies, re- 
 tired to prepare his brief, leaving the boy cheered 
 with hope.
 
 LILITH 287 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE MEETING OF THE YOUNG PAIR 
 
 Though losses and crosses 
 Be lessons right severe, 
 There's wit there, ye'll get there, 
 Yell find nae ither where. 
 
 Robert Burns. 
 
 "EARLY on the next morning Joseph Wyvil brought 
 his young sister to the prison cell to see her husband, 
 
 "But notwithstanding the promise that the big 
 brother had extorted from each of the unhappy little 
 pair, that they would control their feelings and be- 
 have themselves, no sooner had Lil passed the grated 
 door, entered the cell, and caught sight of her poor 
 Joe, than she flew towards him, and the two fell 
 into each other's arms and sobbed aloud. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil withdrew from the cell and left 
 them together, taking his seat on a bench in the cor- 
 ridor beside the turnkey. 
 
 "After the first paroxysm of sobbing, crying, cares- 
 sing and pitying each other had exhausted itself and 
 them, they sat down on the edge of the bed and be- 
 gan to talk and compare notes. 
 
 "And their conversation was something like this: 
 
 " 'When did you first hear of my trouble, Lil?' in- 
 quired Joe. 
 
 " 'Oh, not until next day. Do you think if I had 
 known it that night I wouldn't have walked all the 
 way to the lock-up house and made them let me in 
 to stay with you?' 
 
 " 'Yes; but they wouldn't have done it, Lil.' 
 
 " 'But I would have made them let me. I would 
 have screamed and cried so they would have been 
 obliged to do it.'
 
 288 LILITH 
 
 "'Poor little Lil!' 
 
 " 'But, you see, a man came and told me a passel 
 of lies.' 
 
 " 'How was that, Lil?' 
 
 " 'Why, you see, we all at the farm sat up ever so 
 late, waiting for you to come home, and never think- 
 ing any harm, and never feeling uneasy, because Mrs. 
 Claxton said she reckoned as the old squire had died 
 so sudden, and everybody had been taken so by sur- 
 prise, and everything must be so upside down at the 
 Hall, that maybe you had been called on to give some 
 assistance, like going of a message, or something.' 
 
 " 'Yes. Well, Lil?' 
 
 " 'So we were not anxious about you. But just 
 about an hour after midnight a man come to the 
 house with a message from you, as you had been de- 
 tained by business, but would come to me as soon 
 as you could, and that I mustn't wait up, but must 
 go to bed. And I thought you were at the Hall, as 
 they said; and though I felt disappointed, and very 
 lonesome, I went to bed.' 
 
 " 'Poor little Lil!' 
 
 " 'And it was all lies, Joe all lies!' 
 
 " 'No, it wasn't, dear Lil; it was the truth. I was 
 detained on business (detained in the lock-up house, 
 on charge of felony), and I did mean to come to you 
 as soon as ever I could. And it was I who sent that 
 message to you. I did it so you could get some sleep 
 that night, dear Lil!' 
 
 " 'Oh, Joe!' 
 
 " 'But how did you hear the truth at last, my poor 
 Lil?' 
 
 " 'From Joseph.' 
 
 "'From Joseph!' 
 
 " 'Yes. You see, Mr. Claxton heard the whole truth 
 from the man who came the night before, though he 
 never let on to me that he had heard it. And he
 
 LILITH 289 
 
 sent a telegram to Joseph that same night. How 
 lucky we had told him all about our brother, and 
 where he lived! Well, I think Joseph must have taken 
 the very first train after receiving the telegram, for 
 he arrived the next afternoon.' 
 
 " 'Ah! after I had been committed for trial, and had 
 set out for this place.' 
 
 "Yes; I suppose so. Well, he reached the farm 
 about five o'clock; and he had so much self-control 
 that I did not see that anything was wrong, but only 
 thought that he had taken pity on us at last, and had 
 forgiven us and come to say so. So, after lie had 
 kissed me a good many kisses, I told him I was sorry 
 Joe wasn't home, but that Joe was over at the Hall, 
 where the old squire lay dead. That was what I 
 thought, you know.' 
 
 " 'Yes.'' 
 
 " 'Well, then he told me that you had gone to Car- 
 lisle on business connected with the death of the 
 old squire that would keep you there some time; he 
 thought it best to take me on there, too. Oh, how 
 cunning he was, Joe!' 
 
 " 'How w r ise and merciful, you mean, Lil.' 
 
 " 'Well, anyhow, I thanked him with all my heart. 
 There wasn't another train that stopped at Orton 
 that night, so we had to wait and take the early one 
 the next morning; and that we did. And oh, Joe! 
 I heard the peoplpe at the station, and on the train, 
 too, talking about the highway robbery and murder, 
 and saying such a thing had not occurred in that 
 neighborhood within the memory of the oldest in- 
 habitant; and talking about a stranger by the name 
 of John Weston, who was the ringleader of it, and 
 saying that he had been committed to prison the day 
 before to stand his trial at the next assizes. And oh, 
 Joe! while I listened with the greatest curiosity and
 
 290 LILITH 
 
 interest to all that, I had not the least idea that John 
 Weston was you!' 
 
 "Here Lil lost her self-control again, threw her- 
 self into Joe's arms, and burst into a storm of sobs 
 and tears, in which her boy-husband joined her with 
 all his might. 
 
 "When this tempest subsided, Lil, between gasps, 
 resumed her discourse by asking a question: 
 
 " 'What made you call yourself John Weston?' 
 
 " 'To save the family credit, and because I had as 
 much right to that name, or to any other, as to the 
 one I wear.' 
 
 " 'Well, then, we got to this city yesterday noon, 
 and went to a quiet inn. And I wanted to be taken 
 at once to see you, never dreaming of where you 
 were. But Joseph said you were engaged in busi- 
 ness at the time, and that we could have some lunch- 
 eon first and then go to you. I was half angry, but 
 as I was hungry I agreed to take some coffee and 
 sandwiches. And after that, when I insisted on 
 going to you, Joseph told me you were in a little 
 trouble. He didn't mean to tell me how bad it was, 
 but just to prepare nie to see you in prison; but some- 
 how I seemed to guess all at once that you were 
 the John Weston they had been talking about on the 
 train, and though I never could believe anything bad 
 of you for one single minute, and didn't then, Joe, 
 yet somehow or other it floored me quite and left me 
 for dead like, for when I came to myself it was dark, 
 and there was a doctor and a nurse sitting by me. 
 That was night before last. I believe they gave me 
 something to make me stupid and sleepy, for I know 
 I slept almost constantly day and night until this 
 morning, when they let me get up to come to you 
 oh, Joe!' 
 
 " 'Lil! Lil! Don't cry any more! You will make 
 yourself ill,' pleaded Joe.
 
 LILITH 291 
 
 "And Lil gasped, recovered and warded off a third 
 attack. 
 
 " 'They all knew all about it before I knew a word. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Claxton, and afterwards Joseph, as well 
 as everybody else, I reckon, heard of your arrest and 
 of your explanation of your presence with the party 
 that stopped the coach that night, and they all be- 
 lieved you told the truth, Joe! Every one of them 
 did, and of course I knew you did when Joseph told 
 me about it.' 
 
 " 'Oh, it is so comforting to think my own friends 
 and neighbors believe me,' sighed Joe. 
 
 "The two would have talked much longer, no doubt^ 
 but Joseph Wyvil spoke through the grating and told 
 Joe that Mr. Rocke, his counsel, was waiting in the 
 corridor to speak to him. 
 
 "Then Lil took leave of Joe, promising to come back 
 as often and to stay as long as prison rules would 
 allow. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil showed Mr. Rocke into the cell and 
 led Lil out, and took her home to the quiet lodgings 
 he had provided for her. 
 
 "After this, Lil went every morning to see her boy- 
 husband, and was permitted by the kindness of the 
 governor to spend most of the day with him. 
 
 "Mr. Rocke, the counsel, and Joseph Wyvil, the 
 brother, did all they could to keep up the spirits of 
 the young pair, and succeeded better than any out- 
 sider could have believed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 "AND so the time passed to the day on which the 
 judges entered the town to hold the assizes.
 
 LILITH 
 
 "The docket was an unusually full one for this 
 term, and many cases had to be tried before that of 
 John Weston, charged with the murder of John 
 Ketcham, was called. 
 
 "The remarkable feature in this case was the fact 
 that it involved the first case of highway robbery that 
 had occurred in that neighborhood for more than half 
 a century, and seemed the revival of a phase of crime 
 that had passed into history and should have been 
 impossible in this age. 
 
 "The case drew a large concourse of people to the 
 town, and on the first day of the trial filled the court- 
 room almost to suffocation. 
 
 "But great was the surprise of the throng of spec- 
 tators, when the atrocious criminal was brought in, 
 to see a slight, dark-eyed and curly-haired boy, only 
 eighteen years of age, and looking three years 
 younger, placed in the dock. 
 
 "Many whispered comments passed through the 
 crowd, as they gazed at the youthful prisoner. Here 
 he stood lifted up in full view above everybody's 
 heads, a target for all glances, looking, not frightened, 
 but quiet, subdued, and deeply humiliated by his posi- 
 tion; looking anything rather than the brigand and 
 desperado they had expected to see. 
 
 "When the preliminaries of the proceedings were 
 over, and the young prisoner was arraigned, he 
 pleaded : 
 
 " 'Not guilty.' 
 
 "The opening charge of the prosecuting attorney 
 was a tremendous assault upon the accused boy, as 
 if in his slight form was incarnated the spirit of re- 
 volt, robbery, murder, treason, and all manner of evil, 
 danger and perdition; and as if the safety of her 
 majesty's people and dominions required the imme- 
 diate death by hanging of the prisoner at the bar. 
 
 "Poor Joe was not at this time and in this place a
 
 LILITH 293 
 
 hero, it is sad to say! He was a very sensitive and 
 impressible boy, and hearing the prosecuting attor- 
 ney go on at him at this rate, Joe was so to speak 
 psychologized by him and led to look upon himself, 
 the prisoner, as an incarnate fiend, though he had 
 never even suspected the fact before. Now, under 
 this scathing denunciation, the poor wretch bowed 
 his head and looked so guilty that men groaned and 
 women sighed to see such deep depravity in one so 
 young. 
 
 "At the end of the prosecutor's opening charge, 
 that officer called the first witness Paul Cartright 
 who, being duly sworn, testified that he was a 
 county constable, and about midnight on the night 
 of the 18th ultimo he had been alarmed by cries for 
 help coming from that section of the high road that 
 passes through Downdingle, and, with others, hurried 
 to the scene, where he found the stage-coach that 
 runs between Orton Village and Orton Station over- 
 turned and surrounded by half a dozen, or about 
 that number, of masked men. As he and his com- 
 panions approached, he heard a pistol fired and saw 
 a man fall. The masked men turned and fled into 
 the thickets on each side of the road, and were soon 
 lost to the pursuers, who gave their attention to see- 
 ing to the wounded and righting the coach. He, Paul 
 Cartright, had caught one man in the act of flight- 
 had caught him, red-handed, grasping the pistol with 
 which he had just murdered the victim 
 
 " 'Judge! Your honor! oh, your honor! I never 
 fired that pistol! I stooped to see if I could do any- 
 thing for the fallen man, and seeing he was quite 
 dead, I picked up the pistol from the ground, with- 
 out knowing what I was doing, and then the con- 
 stable there took me!' burst forth poor Joe, before 
 any one could stop him. 
 
 "He was sternly called to order by the court, and
 
 294. LILITH 
 
 then instructed in a whisper bj his counsel that he 
 was on no account to speak again until he should be 
 spoken to. 
 
 "Joe, crestfallen and despairing, subsided into 
 silence. 
 
 " 'Do you see the man whom you took red-handed, 
 as you say, standing pistol in hand over his slain vic- 
 tim?' inquired the prosecutor. 
 
 " 'Yes, sir; that is the man,' replied the witness, 
 pointing to the young prisoner in the dock. 
 
 "Joe shook his head in desperation, but said never 
 a word. 
 
 "The pistol was then produced, and identified by 
 the witness as the one he had taken from the prisoner 
 at the bar. 
 
 "A ball was produced, and identified by the next 
 witness, Dr. Yorke, who performed the autopsy 
 on the deceased lawyer, as the bullet extracted from 
 the dead body. It was found to fit the empty cham- 
 ber of the revolver, and to correspond perfectly with 
 the other bullets with which it had been loaded. 
 
 "Pistol and bullets were handed to the jury, and 
 passed from man to man conclusive evidence of the 
 guilt of the prisoner at the bar. 
 
 "Several other witnesses were examined, all of 
 whom corroborated the testimony of the first one. 
 
 "Joe thought his case was gone, and he felt thank- 
 ful that Lil was not there to hear evidence that might 
 even have shaken her faith in him, since it had de- 
 stroyed his faith in himself. 
 
 "But at length the case for the prosecution was 
 closed, and the court took a recess. 
 
 "Then Mr. Kocke caine around to the dock, and 
 sat down and talked with his client, and encouraged 
 him until his fainting self-esteem was in some degree 
 restored. 
 
 "After recess the court reassembled, and the de-
 
 295 
 
 fence was opened in a most eloquent speech by Mr. 
 Rocke. 
 
 "He told the whole story of 'John Weston's' purely 
 accidental connection with the party of young roughs 
 who had stopped the stage-coach, not either with 
 any intention of mail robbery, murder or any other 
 great violence, but merely to get possession of a cer- 
 tain document held by the deceased lawyer. 
 
 "He dwelt upon the young prisoner's total igno- 
 rance of their plans and incomplicity with their 
 offence. 
 
 "He described the purely accidental shooting of the 
 lawyer by the pistol held in the deceased's own hand, 
 leveled at one of the assailants, and knocked up by 
 the assailant in self-defence, so that it went off, send- 
 ing a bullet under the chin, and upward and backward 
 through the brain. He bade them see how easy, 
 natural and inevitable such an accident must be. 
 
 "He described the humane impulse of the boy spec- 
 tator, now the unhappy young prisoner at the bar. 
 He told how he had seen the catastrophe; how he had 
 run to the rescue, had bent over the fallen man, but 
 finding him dead, had picked up the pistol, and with- 
 out an idea of escaping, as the guilty ones had done, 
 stood there gazing at the dead in a sort of panic, no 
 doubt, until he was taken into custody by the con- 
 stable. 
 
 ''Was this, he asked, the conduct of a guilty man? 
 The guilty had fled had finally escaped had never 
 been recaptured. But had this young man ever even 
 attempted to fly? 
 
 "He would bring witnesses to prove the unblem- 
 ished good character of his client, and to prove that 
 en the fatal night of the robbery and the murder he, 
 the accused, so far from having any share in the con- 
 spiracy to stop the mail coach, had returned to his 
 home to spend the evening with his newly-married
 
 296 LILITH 
 
 wife, and had gone again only at the request of his 
 landlady, and on a neighborly errand. It was after 
 having executed this errand, and while he was on 
 his way home, that he chanced most unhappily to 
 fall in with the party of young ruffians who stopped 
 the coach. He had no hand in their offence, and was 
 taken while trying to render assistance to the victim. 
 
 "Then Counsellor Rocke called Joseph Wyvil, of 
 Stockton. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil, who had just come into court, 
 being sworn, testified that he knew the prisoner at 
 the bar, and had known him since he, the prisoner, 
 was four years of age that is, for fourteen years 
 and that most intimately at home and at school, and 
 had never known him to be untruthful, dishonest or 
 cruel in all that time, and could not possibly believe 
 him to be capable of the crime for which he was there 
 arraigned. 
 
 "Wyvil was cross-examined by the prosecutor as 
 to whether he really never knew the prisoner to vary 
 in the least from the truth, or to take liberties with 
 the sweetmeats, or to tease cats, or to do any little 
 thing that might trench upon the borders of false- 
 hood, theft or cruelty. 
 
 "But all this only brought out the most positive 
 declaration of the witness that he had not. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil was then allowed to sit down, and 
 Belinda Claxton was called to the stand. 
 
 "Being sworn, this witness testified that she knew 
 the prisoner at the bar, who had been her lodger for 
 two months up to the time of his arrest; that on 
 the night of the highway robbery and murder he 
 had come home to tea, and had arranged to spend 
 the evening with his wife, and herself and her hus- 
 band, to play a game of whist, but that news had 
 come of the old squire's sudden death, and that she 
 had persuaded him, the prisoner, to walk over to the
 
 LILITH 297 
 
 Hall and see if the report was true. That he went 
 off, promising to be back in half an hour, or in an 
 hour at most. When he failed to come she only 
 thought that he had been detained at the Hall. 
 
 "Mrs. Claxton was also cross-examined as to when 
 this whist party had been arranged. She answered 
 that it had been settled before the prisoner had gone 
 out to the post-office that afternoon, that he was to 
 return to an early tea, and play whist all the evening. 
 
 "Mrs. Claxton was allowed to retire. 
 
 "John Claxton, husband of the last witness, was 
 called, and corroborated her testimony in every item. 
 
 "Then the prosecutor got up to deliver the clos- 
 ing address to the jury. He made very light of the 
 testimony for the defence, showing, or attempting to 
 show, the jury that it really proved nothing, and had 
 so little to do with the charge against the prisoner 
 that it might well have been ruled out as irrelevant, 
 impertinent and vexatious. He exhorted the jurors 
 to do their stern duty as British jurors to punish red- 
 handed crime; to and so forth, and so forth. 
 
 "The judge arose to make the final charge. It was 
 all against the prisoner. His honor considered the 
 evidence for the prosecution as quite conclusive; 
 the evidence advanced by the defence as weak and 
 inconsequential. And charged the jury to bring in a 
 verdict in accordance with the facts proven. 
 
 "Criminal trials of this sort are soon concluded in 
 England. They do not waste so much time or spend 
 so much money as we do over them. 
 
 "The jury retired to their room for half an hour, 
 during which poor Joe waited in an agony of sus- 
 pense as great as human nature can endure and live 
 in an agony that seemed to stretch that half hour 
 into an eternity of suffering; and then the jury filed 
 in and rendered their verdict : 
 
 " 'GUILTY.'
 
 298 LILITH 
 
 "Joe sprang up and fell back on his seat as if lie 
 had been shot. 
 
 " 'It will be a murder, you know, Mr. Rocke. Poor 
 Lil!' he cried to his counsel, who came to his side. 
 
 "He was quickly called to order and directed to 
 stand up. 
 
 "With as strong an effort at self-control as his 
 boyish soul was capable of making, he obeyed and 
 faced the court. 
 
 "He was then asked whether he had anything to say 
 why sentence of death should not be pronounced upon 
 him. 
 
 "He answered that he had a great deal to say. 
 And then in eager, vehement, impassioned, yet most 
 respectful language, he asseverated his innocence, and 
 told again the often repeated true story of his con- 
 nection with the young men who had stopped the 
 stage-coach. 
 
 "The court heard him patiently, and then, when 
 he had ceased to speak, the judge put on the black 
 cap and proceeded to sentence the boy. 
 
 "He told him the enormity of the crime of which 
 he had been guilty, the fairness of the trial he had 
 stood, the ability with which he had been defended, 
 the justice of the verdict, the justice also of his sen- 
 tence, the hopelessness of any thought of mercy in 
 this world, the necessity of seeking mercy from a 
 higher tribunal, and finally he pronounced the ghastly 
 sentence of the law, and ended with the prayer that 
 the Lord might have mercy on his soul! 
 
 " 'Poor Lil!' was all the boy said, as the bailiffs 
 led him away. 
 
 "And the court was adjourned.
 
 LILITH 299 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 IX THE TOILS OF FATE 
 
 "JOB was conveyed back to his prison cell and 
 locked up and left there in a state of stupefaction. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil, who had heard the verdict, was not 
 able to get near the unfortunate boy, who had been 
 hurried from the dock to the prison van by the officers 
 in attendance. And though he followed the prisoner 
 with all speed to the jail, he was not admitted to see 
 him because it was after the hour of closing. 
 
 "He managed to see the jail chaplain and implore 
 him, late as it was, to visit the desolate boy in his 
 cell that night. 
 
 "'The reverend gentleman willingly promised to do 
 so, and Joseph Wyvil left the prison, with what a 
 heavy heart! to go to his most unhappy sister and 
 answer as best he might the agonizing questions she 
 would be sure to put to him. 
 
 "Ah! the dreadful intelligence had preceded him 
 to Lil's lodgings, and prostrated her frail frame to the 
 very verge of death. 
 
 "He found the doctor in attendance, and ike young 
 wife, pale as a corpse, sleeping heavily under the 
 influence of a powerful narcotic. 
 
 " 'How did she hear it?' was one of the first ques- 
 tions put by the unhappy brother. 
 
 " 'By the yelling of the people in the street. We 
 could hardly keep her from going to the court-room; 
 we couldn't keep her away from the windows, watch- 
 ing for you and her husband to come back arm in 
 arm. She was so confident he would be acquitted! 
 For she said he was innocent, and being innocent, 
 eould not be found guilty and must be acquitted/ 
 replied their landlady.
 
 300 LILITH 
 
 " 'Ah! she knew nothing of the power of circum- 
 stantial evidence to convict an innocent man !' groaned 
 Joseph. 
 
 " 'Why, sir, she even packed her trunk to return 
 to Stockton, for she said that neither she nor her 
 husband, nor her brother, would want to stay another 
 night in the town where they had suffered so much, 
 but would take the first train back to their cottage 
 and be at peace.' 
 
 " 'Poor child! Poor child!' 
 
 " 'And then, while she was watching for you and 
 him from the window, and turning round every few 
 minutes to ask me to be sure to keep the water boil- 
 ing so as to make tea the minute they should come 
 in, or to please have the bacon grilled to a turn, or 
 something of that sort, all of a sudden she heard the 
 boys in the street shouting to one another that Wes- 
 ton, the mail-robber, was found guilty and sentenced 
 to be hanged o' Monday week!' 
 
 " 'She heard that? Oh, poor Lil!' 
 
 " 'She heard that, sir, and afore any one could 
 stop her she was out in the street, in the freezing 
 winter night, without shawl or bonnet, to inquire into 
 the truth. I just whipped a plaid shawl over my 
 head and ran out to fetch her in. I found her pros- 
 trate and insensible on the ground, with a crowd of 
 people gathered around her. We raised her and 
 brought her in and laid her on the bed and brought 
 her to. But as soon as she got back her senses to 
 know what had happened, she fell into such convul- 
 sions that we had to send for Dr. Yorke, and he gave 
 her summat to quiet her and put her to sleep. And 
 that's all, sir,' concluded the landlady. 
 
 "The doctor gave directions for the treatment of 
 his patient during the night, and left, promising to 
 return early the next morning.
 
 LILITH 301 
 
 "The tired landlady went to rest, asking to be called 
 at any time if she should be wanted. 
 
 "And Joseph Wyvil took his seat by the bedside 
 of his unfortunate sister, to watch her sleep and dread 
 her waking. 
 
 "A low taper burned on a little table behind a 
 screen. And all the room was obscure and silent as a 
 cave. 
 
 "Lil slept on quietly, and Joseph was almost 
 tempted to hope that Lil might wake only in that 
 happier world where 'there shall be no more death, 
 neither crying nor sorrow.' 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil was a faithful Christian man, and 
 found his greatest support during this long miserable 
 nigl t watch in praying for Lil and for Joe. 
 
 "The late winter morning had dawned when Lil 
 awoke. 
 
 "She awoke very quietly, and although she opened 
 her eyes, looked about, saw her brother seated by her 
 bed, and evidently by the change that passed over 
 her face, remembered all that had happened since 
 yesterday, yet there was no outburst of grief. The 
 effect of the narcotic yet remained in the blunted sen- 
 sibilities. But though her feelings were dulled, her 
 intellect was clear enough; and although there was 
 no outbreak of sorrow, yet the look of deep despair 
 that settled on her face showed how profoundly she 
 realized the situation. 
 
 " 'Lil! Lil, my darling sister/ muttered Joseph 
 Wyvil, bending over her. 
 
 " 'Let me go to him, Joseph! Oh, please let me go 
 to him. I will behave myself. Indeed I will behave 
 myself, Joseph,' she pleaded. 
 
 " 'Yes, dear, you shall go just as soon as the doors 
 are opened to admit visitors.' 
 
 "She put out her hand and pressed his. 
 
 " 'But, darling Lil, you need not give up hope. All
 
 302 LILITH 
 
 is not lost yet, Lil! I mean to get up a strong petition 
 in his behalf. He is so young. There are so many 
 circumstances in his favor. Lil, I am nearly certain 
 we can get his sentence commuted to transportation 
 for life. And then we also will go out to Australia, 
 to be near him. And if he conducts himself well, 
 as he will be sure to do, having so much at stake, 
 he will get a ticket of leave. And after a few weeks, 
 Lil, we'll not be any worse off than if we had emi- v 
 grated, you know. Are you listening, Lil?' 
 
 " 'Yes, Joseph. Oh, take me to him. I want to go 
 to him so much. I will behave myself so well.' 
 
 " 'Yes, dear. Just as soon as ever I can do so. 
 Keep up your heart.' 
 
 " 'If he dies I shall die too, and in a fortnight all 
 will be over, and we two shall meet on the other side, 
 never to part any more.' 
 
 " 'Don't speak so hopelessly, dear Lil. I feel sure 
 in my own mind that we shall win a commutation 
 of his sentence, and then the worst that can happen 
 to us will be that we shall have to go to Australia; 
 and that may turn out to be the very best that could 
 happen.' 
 
 "Their conversation was interrupted by a rap at 
 the door, followed by the entrance of the -landlady 
 with a small bowl of beef tea for the poor girl. 
 
 "'Oh, I thank you; but indeed I cannot take any- 
 thing,' said Lil, when this refreshment was offered to 
 her. 
 
 " 'Come, now, I want you to drink this because it 
 will do you good. And you promised to behave, you 
 know,' said her brother. 
 
 " 'I will drink it then,' said Lil, with perfect 
 docility. And so well was the liquid seasoned that 
 on tasting it she drank it without reluctance and even 
 with benefit.
 
 LILITH 303 
 
 "The landlady had scarcely left the room, with the 
 empty bowl in her hand, when the doctor entered it. 
 
 " Joseph Wyvil arose and bowed, and yielded hidf 
 place by the bedside to the physician, who seated 
 himself and proceeded to examine his patient. 
 
 " 'She is going on well, yet I would recommend a 
 continuance of the same treatment for a while longer. 
 She should be kept somewhat under the influence 
 of sedatives to tide her over this trial,' was his whis- 
 pered advice to Joseph Wyvil, as he arose to leave 
 the room. 
 
 "He wrote a prescription and minute directions for 
 its administration, and then took leave. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil went down to his breakfast and sent 
 up the landlady's servant to assist Lil in rising and 
 dressing to go to the jail. 
 
 "Joseph called a carriage, but before he put her 
 into it administered a dose of that merciful medicine 
 sent by the doctor to quiet her nerves and blunt her 
 feelings, if it could not obscure her intelligence. 
 
 "And so they drove to the jail and were admitted 
 to the presence of poor Joe. 
 
 "The jail doctor and the chaplain had done their 
 part, and the doomed boy was much calmer than he 
 had been on the preceding day. 
 
 "The stricken young pair met without any violent 
 outbreak of emotion. Each grew paler as they em- 
 braced, and neither could speak to the other at first. 
 They sat down on the side of the cot, with their 
 hands clasped together. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil, after taking and pressing his 
 brother's hand, drew the chair and seated himself 
 before them, and began to talk of the petition for 
 the commutation of Joe's sentence he intended that 
 day to set on foot. Mr. Rocke, he said, would draw 
 it up, and he thought that judge and jury would sign, 
 it as well as many clergymen and other citizens. He
 
 304 LILITH 
 
 himself would take it up to the Home Secretary. He 
 felt sure, he said, that the petition would be granted, 
 and that transportation for life would be the very 
 worst that Joe would have to suffer. Beyond every 
 reasonable cause for believing this, Joseph declared 
 that he felt an interior confidence that was prophetic, 
 for which he could not account. 
 
 " 'And then, Joe, your fate will not be hard. It 
 will depend upon yourself to make it easy. If you 
 behave yourself, you will find it light enough, from 
 all that I can hear. You will be taken as some gentle- 
 man's valet, or even secretary, and after a while get 
 your ticket of leave, and in due time your pardon ' 
 
 " 'Pardon for what I never did!' said Joe. 
 
 " 'Be patient, dear boy! There be a deal of unde- 
 served suffering in this world for which there must 
 be compensation somewhere. And after all, Joe, 
 there is many a free emigrant who has suffered and 
 will suffer more than you need to do. And listen 
 to this, Joe. After a year or two, just as soon as I 
 have made money enough to carry us through, I will 
 bring Lil out to you and we will all live out there 
 together, and it will depend only on ourselves, under 
 the Divine Providence, whether we prosper.' 
 
 " 'We have not got the commutation yet,' said Joe, 
 despondently. 
 
 " 'But we will get it,' replied Joseph, confidently. 
 
 "At this moment Mr. Rocke entered the cell with 
 the petition in his hand. 
 
 "Joseph ceded his chair and took a seat on the foot 
 of the cot. 
 
 "After shaking hands with the prisoner, his wife 
 and brother, Mr. Rocke read the petition, and produc- 
 ing a pocket pen and ink-stand, asked for their signa- 
 tures. 
 
 "Joe signed his name first, Lil next, adding naively 
 on the same line: 'Oh, ptease, please.'
 
 LILITH 305 
 
 "Mr. Rocke frowned, smiled, but let it stand. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil then signed his name. 
 
 "And then the two men left the cell to go and 
 take the petition around the town, leaving Lil with 
 Joe. 
 
 "By this time all of the boy's history was known 
 to the townspeople. Joseph Wyvil had given it <o 
 the lawyer, at first retaining him. The lawyer had 
 given it to the reporter of the Guardian on the eve- 
 ning of the trial, and the whole story was published 
 in this morning's issue, together with the report of 
 the trial. 
 
 "There was a reaction in public sentiment. Much 
 doubt was entertained of the prisoner's complicity 
 with the crime for which he had been condemned. 
 Much pity was felt for him and for his child-wife, in 
 their extreme youth and utter despair. The petition 
 for the commutation of his sentence was signed by 
 judge, jury, magistrates, clergymen and citizens of all 
 rank. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil and Mr. Rocke took it up to Lon- 
 don together and laid it before the Home Secretary. 
 
 "Three w r eary days passed before they could ob- 
 tain a hearing. Then five tedious days before any 
 action was taken on the petition. 
 
 "During all this time Joseph Wyvil wrote daily 
 letters full of confidence and encouragement to l\\ 
 waiting, breathlessly anxious sister and brother. 
 
 "At length, on the ninth day, Joseph Wyvil and 
 Mr. Rocke received the commutation and started with 
 it for Carlisle. 
 
 "It was after the hours of closing the prison. But 
 they could not easily consent to leave the prisoner, 
 who was now the object of the royal clemency, one 
 more sleepless night of agonizing suspense. 
 
 "So while Joseph Wyvil went home to gladden the 
 heart of his sister with the good news, Mr. Rocke
 
 306 LILITH 
 
 went to the house of the chaplain and with him to 
 the governor of the jail, and so gained admittance to 
 the cell. 
 
 "Joe, who had parted with Lil but an hour before, 
 was sitting on the side of his cot staring into vacancy 
 and on the verge of falling into idiocy, saw through 
 his grated door the low light of the turnkey's lantern 
 approaching, and roused himself. 
 
 "In another moment the door was unlocked, the 
 two men entered, and Joe's eager, questioning eyes 
 read the good news in their faces before the chaplain 
 took his hand and said: 
 
 " 'Return thanks to the Lord, my boy! You are 
 saved!' 
 
 " 'Oh, Lil! Lil!' cried Joe, and dropped his head 
 in his hands and sobbed like a child. 
 
 "When at length he recovered himself he thanked 
 the chaplain and the lawyer for all that they had 
 done in his behalf. 
 
 "And then, as it was late, the two gentlemen shook 
 hands with the prisoner and withdrew. 
 
 "The next morning the meeting between the young 
 pair was a happier one than they had had since they 
 had parted on that fatal night of the old squire's 
 death and the lawyer's murder. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil also kept their spirits up by hope- 
 fully putting the fairest view of the future before 
 them. He reiterated that it depended on Joe him- 
 self whether his lot in Australia would be the hard 
 lot of a convict or the ordinary lot of a hard-work- 
 ing emigrant. The chaplain of this prison, he said, 
 would write a letter to the chaplain of the transport- 
 ship and make interest with him for the young exile. 
 And lastly, that, within a year, or two years at most, 
 he would bring Lil out to Sydney. 
 
 " 'And by that time, Joe, you will have behaved 
 yourself so well as to have got your ticket-of-leave
 
 LILITH SOT 
 
 and maybe your free pardon, too, and we will all, 
 please the Lord, forget our troubles and live happily 
 together.' 
 
 "And Lil and Joe believed all that their hopeful 
 brother told them, and anticipated the brighter days 
 that might be in store for them in the future years. 
 
 "The interval between this day and the sailing of 
 the transport-ship was passed as calmly and hopefully 
 as possible under the circumstances. 
 
 "Lil was allowed to be as much with Joe as the 
 rules of the prison justified, and even a little more, 
 perhaps, for governor, chaplain and physician all 
 sympathized with them, despite the rigid discipline 
 that would bind souls as much as bodies in such cases 
 of officers and prisoners. 
 
 "The day came in which Joe and a fellow-prisoner 
 named Jeremiah Hatfield, convicted of robbery and 
 sentenced to seven years' transportation and penal 
 servitude, were to be taken from the prison, hand- 
 cuffed together and put upon the train, in charge of 
 two armed keepers, to be taken to Liverpool, from 
 whence the transport-ship Vulture was to sail. 
 
 "Lil, supported by the strong arm and strong heart 
 of her brother Joseph, went early to the prison to- 
 take leave of Joe. 
 
 "Joe behaved pretty w T ell under the circumstances, 
 kept up his own spirits and kept up Lil's. 
 
 " 'Only look upon this as if I were going to sea r 
 Lil! You know I am not guilty. I will not consider 
 myself a convict. I will think of myself only as an 
 emigrant. And I will behave so well, please the 
 Lord, that everybody shall esteem me, whether they 
 will or no. And shall believe that I have been 
 wrongly accused. Cheer up, Lil.' 
 
 "The doctor had mercifully given Lil a sedative 
 that morning to enable her to go through the ordeal, 
 else Heaven only knows what sort of a scene of wild
 
 308 LILITH 
 
 hysterics would have been enacted in that cell. As 
 it was, Lil's heart only ached with a dull despair that 
 found no outlet in sobs or tears, or even complaint. 
 
 "The poor boy and girl were allowed to remain 
 together until the last possible minute, and then, 
 when they were warned that the moment of parting 
 had actually come, there was one long, clinging em- 
 brace, and then Joseph led his sister away not cry- 
 ing, not fainting, yet half dead in her dumb anguish. 
 
 "The chaplain remained with Joe. And before the 
 wife and brother had reached the end of the cor- 
 ridor, another prisoner was brought from another cell, 
 handcuffed to Joe, and both were led off to the prison 
 van that was to take them to the railway station 
 en route for Liverpool and the transport-ship. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil took his sister back to their lodg- 
 ing-house and made her go to bed, where, overcome 
 by all that she had done and borne that day, and 
 stupefied by the sedative she had taken, she fell into 
 a long sleep. 
 
 "Meanwhile the kind-hearted and helpful landlady 
 packed up all her lodgers' effects to save Lil trouble, 
 in anticipation of the journey that was to be taken 
 the next day. 
 
 "Lil awoke the next morning much calmer and 
 stronger than might have been expected. 
 
 "And the same day Joseph Wyvil, after thanking 
 and remunerating their landlady, took his sister back 
 to their cottage home at Stockton.
 
 LILITH 309 
 
 DELIVERANCE 
 
 So, trial after trial past, 
 
 Shalt thou fall at the very last, 
 
 Breathless, half in trance, 
 
 With the thrill of a great deliverance, 
 
 Into our arms forevermore. 
 
 Browning. 
 
 "JOSEPH WTVIL took his sister home, but it was no 
 longer the bright and happy home that it had been 
 before Lil's stolen marriage and its almost tragic end. 
 
 "Lil fell into such dull and deep despair that her 
 brother feared it would terminate in that most hope- 
 less form of madness known as melancholia. 
 
 "He consulted their old family physician, who, 
 after several visits to his patient, recommended an 
 entire change of scene, occupations and interests for 
 the despairing girl. 
 
 "Ah, poor Joseph Wyvil! And poor Lil! The doc- 
 tor might as reasonably have recommended a yacht 
 to the Mediterranean Sea and a palace on the coast 
 of Sicily for this impoverished and embarrassed 
 brother and sister. 
 
 "The expenses of the trial had absorbed all Joseph 
 Wyvil's savings, and even compelled him to mortgage 
 his house. 
 
 "For to the lawyer's fees and other legal costs 
 there had been added the expenses of his own and 
 his sister's board and lodging at Carlisle, and of his 
 own and the lawyer's journey to London and back, 
 and their hotel bills while in that city dancing at- 
 tendance at Somerset House, and the loss of time and 
 work.
 
 310 LILITH 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil was hopelessly embarrassed in 
 money matters. The lately industrious, thriving and 
 ^fore-handed' mechanic was financially ruined. 
 
 "Not by his own doings, but by the folly and 
 calamity of his sister and brother. 
 
 "He had lost his work also, and could not recover 
 it. This was a misfortune he had not in the least 
 calculated upon. But another man had got his place, 
 and there was no room for him. 
 
 "Joseph first sold his silver watch, and next the 
 precious half dozen silver tea-spoons left him by his 
 mother, to pay the interest on his notes and to bear 
 current expenses. After that, piece by piece of the 
 little parlor set went. 
 
 "But these could not last long. The crash came. 
 The house was sold under the mortgage, and the little 
 home was broken up. So much calamity may come 
 of one little act of folly like Joe's and Lil's run- 
 away marriage. 
 
 "Joseph took his sister and the remnant of his 
 household furniture and moved into two rooms of a 
 poor tenement house, and tried to get work even as 
 a common laborer, but failed. 
 
 "He then sold more of his small stock of furni- 
 ture, divided the money with Lil, and went 'on the 
 tramp,' seeking work of any honest sort wherever he 
 might get it. 
 
 "So he drifted to Liverpool. There he met with 
 an old shipmate and friend of his late uncle, Zebedee 
 Wyvil. This was George Poole, now captain of the 
 fast-sailing Baltimore clipper Oriole, then in port. 
 
 "To Captain Poole poor Joseph Wyvil told his 
 story. 
 
 "After hearing him to the end, the skipper said: 
 
 " "There is always work for willing hands in 
 America, and often fortune, too. Come cut with me
 
 LILITH 
 
 to America, Wyvil. I shall sail for Baltimore in ten 
 days.' 
 
 " 'I have no money, and all my household goods 
 would not bring ten pounds,' sadly replied Joseph. 
 
 " 'The more reason for your accepting my offer. 
 Come, you can work your passage over if you insist 
 upon being independent, and when ' 
 
 " 'But niy poor little sister. I cannot leave her in 
 her misery/ 
 
 " 'Of course you cannot. Who asked you to do so? 
 Bring her with you. She shall have a free passage; 
 or, if she has too much pride to accept a favor, she 
 may help the stewardess mend the ship's linen, just 
 as she pleases. Come, old fellow, take an old friend's 
 honest offer and best advice. Run up to Carlisle. 
 Sell out your sticks, and bring 7our sister down here. 
 You have plenty of time to settle up all your affairs. 
 And when we get to 
 
 "The land of the free and the home of the brave," 
 
 I will look after you like a godfather until you get 
 work. Come, what do you say?' 
 
 " 'I accept your kindness. But, oh! how shall I 
 ever be able to express my thanks?' 
 
 " 'By holding your tongue, and getting ready to sail, 
 my boy. You said your doctor recommended change 
 of scene for the girl, didn't you?' 
 
 " 'Oh, yes! yes! But how was I to provide it for 
 her, even though her life or reason might depend on 
 her having it?' 
 
 " 'Exactly. But now you see it is provided for her. 
 Hurry back to her, Wyvil. By the way, here. You 
 must not dream of tramping back to Carlisle. Take 
 this five pound note. Pshaw! Nonsense! I am not 
 offering to give it to you, man, but to lend it. There,
 
 312 LILITH 
 
 hurry back to your sister, and fetch her down. I'll 
 warrant her spirits will improve in a week.' 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil would have thanked this warm- 
 hearted and generous friend and benefactor, but found 
 no words, no voice to express himself. 
 
 "He took the first train back to Stockton, and re- 
 turned to the poor lodgings where he had left Lil. 
 
 "He found her much worse than he had left her 
 paler, thinner, weaker and more melancholy. 
 
 "When he told her of the prospect opened for 
 them by this free passage to America, her first words 
 were those of disappointment. 
 
 " 'I thought we were to go out to Australia to join 
 poor Joe.' 
 
 " 'And so we are to do, dear, just as soon as I can 
 make money enough to take us out there. But I 
 cannot make this money in England. And so we must 
 thank Heaven for this free passage to America, 
 where work is plenty and wages high. There it will 
 require a much shorter time to make money enough 
 to take us out to join Joe.' 
 
 " 'But will this voyage carry us any farther away 
 from poor Joe than we are now?' was Lil's next 
 anxious question. 
 
 " 'No; no farther. I do not think as far. Aus- 
 tralia is at the antipodes, as we stand here, you know; 
 so every thousand miles we sail must take us a 
 thousand miles nearer in space, and the greater facili- 
 ties offered in America will take us years nearer in 
 time to our heart's desire.' 
 
 " 'Let us go, then! Oh! let us go! I begin to see 
 light at last!' exclaimed Lil, rallying as she had never 
 rallied since her parting with her husband. 
 
 "The need of activity, the prospect of a journey 
 and a voyage, and conditions that were to bring her 
 nearer in time as well as in space to Joe, infused 
 new life into Lil.
 
 LILITH 318 
 
 "She rendered prompt and efficient aid to Joseph 
 in preparing to leave home. 
 
 "The sale of their household goods brought exactly 
 7 5s. 3d., or about $37.56 of our money. Joseph 
 had of the money loaned him by Captain Poole, 
 4 10s., so that when he had settled all his little 
 debts he had still 10, or $50 of our money, left. 
 
 "On the day after their sale they took the train 
 for Liverpool, and by the captain's advice, went im- 
 mediately on board the ship, to save expense of board 
 and lodging in the town. 
 
 "In a few days the Oriole sailed, and wind and 
 weather proving very favorable, in two weeks the 
 clipper crossed the Atlantic Ocean and anchored in 
 Baltimore harbor. 
 
 "Within a week after landing Joseph Wyvil ob- 
 tained work as a journeyman carpenter on a house 
 that some contractor was in a hurry to finish by a 
 certain date. 
 
 "Then he took his sister from off the ship, and 
 conveyed her to a cheap, respectable boarding-house. 
 
 "Within a month after this the Oriole sailed again 
 for Liverpool, and the brother and sister lost their 
 kind friend. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil and Lil had both written to their 
 poor Joe before leaving England, telling him of their 
 new hopes and plans. 
 
 "They wrote again on reaching Baltimore, telling 
 him of their better fortunes, and of their one object 
 in making and saving money as fast as possible to 
 go out and join him. 
 
 "But ah! Joseph Wyvil's prosperity did not con- 
 tinue. When the house on which he had been at 
 work was completed, he and his fellow-journeymen 
 were thrown out of employment, and despite their ut- 
 most endeavors, remained idle for the rest of the 
 winter.
 
 LILITH 
 
 "But about the middle of March a change came. 
 A certain capitalist of Baltimore had found out a 
 favorable part of the Jersey coast for the opening of 
 a new summer resort that should combine cheapness 
 with everything else that was desirable in life. 
 
 "He had leased the one large hotel on the place, 
 and was about to build a number of small, rough cot- 
 tages and bathing-houses there to accommodate 
 visitors. 
 
 "All the carpenters who happened to be out of 
 employment, and were willing to leave Baltimore for 
 several months, were engaged at good wages on the 
 work. 
 
 "Joseph Wyvil was among the rest, and he went 
 to Seawood, taking his sister with him. 
 
 "The other workmen got accommodations in the 
 fishermen's cottages scattered here and there along 
 the shore, but Joseph Wyvil took his sister to a little 
 inland village about two miles from the sea, lodged 
 her in a farm-house for a few days, and then rented 
 a cheap cottage with a little garden, furnished it 
 with the bare necessities of life, and put her there. 
 
 "Gradually, as the spring and summer went on, 
 he added little comforts to her store as his wages 
 enabled him to do so. 
 
 "He went to work every morning, and returned 
 every evening. He and his sister lived a most se- 
 cluded life. They joined the Episcopal church at Sea- 
 wood by letters from the rector of the parish church ; 
 at Stockton, and as they were described as Joseph 
 Wyvil, of Stockton, and Elizabeth, w r ife of Joseph 
 Wyvil, a very natural mistake was made in their 
 case a mistake that they never thought of, and that 
 no one else was aware of. 
 
 "They were taken for husband and wife instead of 
 brother and sister; and as they went nowhere but to
 
 LILITH 315 
 
 church, and received no visitors, this natural mistake 
 was not corrected. 
 
 ''They lived contentedly enough together, writing 
 by every Australian mail to Joe, and looking for- 
 ward to the time when they should have money 
 enough to go out to him. 
 
 "They bad not had a line from poor little Joe 
 since he sailed in the transport-ship, on the fifteenth, 
 of the last December, nor had they expected to get 
 one. They knew that months must elapse before 
 the end of his voyage, and more months before a re- 
 turn letter could come to them. They even remem- 
 bered how many months must pass before their first 
 letter could reach him, though after the first long 
 gap of silence the letters would x come and go more 
 frequently. 
 
 "To complicate matters more to fill the situation 
 with more of grief and more of joy it was certain 
 that little Lil was destined to become a mother. 
 This fact was not written to Joe, for, said Lil: 
 
 " 'If I tell him it will only add to his anxiety and 
 impatience to see us. If my child should live, it will 
 only be the greater surprise and delight to him when 
 he hears of it or sees it.' 
 
 "It was about the middle of August, ten months 
 after Lil's marriage, and seven months after the heart- 
 breaking separation from her husband, that the 
 second catastrophe of her life came. 
 
 "You already know all about it how, while Joseph 
 Wyvil was at work on the shore, in the heat of an 
 August afternoon, the little son of Major Hereward, 
 while bathing, got out of his depth, and being unable 
 to swim, was drowning and cried out for help. 
 
 "And Joseph Wyvil forgot all prudence in his 
 manly impulse to rescue the perishing boy, and all 
 overheated as he was, plunged into the water, swam 
 to him and seized him; how he had just time to tow
 
 316 LILITH 
 
 him in and fling him into the outstretched arms of a 
 fisherman, when he was seized with cramp, sank and 
 was swirled away by the under-current. 
 
 "You know all about that, and how the news of 
 his sudden and violent death shocked the delicate 
 young mother into a premature confinement, and how 
 little Lil died within a few hours after giving birth 
 to her daughter died without being able to articulate 
 one word of explanation to Major Hereward, who, 
 brought thither by the minister, stood beside her bed 
 ready to adopt the infant orphaned for his sake and 
 for the sake of his son. 
 
 "Major Hereward was in no measure to blame for 
 what occurred; yet he mourned as if he had been 
 culpably responsible for the tragedy, and he did all 
 that lay in his power all that mortal man could do 
 to atone for it. And not the least part of his work 
 was his adoption and education of the orphan infant/' 
 
 "That was his bounden duty. His most sacred duty. 
 And in the object of this duty he found the greatest 
 comfort and happiness of his life," said Tudor Here- 
 ward, breaking in for the first time upon Zuniga's nar- 
 rative, and taking and carrying the hand of Lilith to 
 his lips. 
 
 "I can well believe that! Lilith was a true daughter 
 to her adopted father," said Zuniga. 
 
 "She has been true as truth in every relation of 
 her difficult life," added Hereward. 
 
 "Will you tell us now, dear, what we most long 
 to know your own life after you left England under 
 such a cruel and unjust condemnation? For even to 
 me, your child, you have never told that story, con- 
 secutively," said Lilith, to divert the conversation 
 from herself, for she was always embarrassed by such 
 very direct praise. 
 
 "Yes, but still in the third person, if you please,
 
 LILITH 317 
 
 and still partly from the notes I have made from time 
 to time," said Zuniga. 
 
 And he resumed his personal history as if speak- 
 ing of another. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 OUT OF THE SNARE AND ON THE WING 
 
 And all the time they hunted me, 
 From hill to plain, from shore to sea, 
 And justice hounding far and wide 
 Her bloodhounds through the country side, 
 Breathed hot and instant on my trace. 
 
 Browning. 
 
 "You know it was reported that John Weston was 
 killed, shot dead, while trying to escape from Port 
 Arthur. You will discover in the course of this nar- 
 rative how that false report got out and how it se- 
 cured his escape. 
 
 "John Weston was rather favored by the chaplain 
 of the transport-ship on account, I think, of his youth 
 and good looks, as well as his good behavior and the 
 recommendation of the prison chaplain. 
 
 "When they were well out to sea he was taken from 
 the convict gang into the chaplain's room to wait 
 on his reverence, though the office was a mere 
 sinecure. 
 
 "He had a good time of it all through the voyage, 
 with nothing at all to cry for but the lost company 
 of his Lil and his brother, and the cruel imputation 
 of crime under which he lived, or seemed to live, for 
 really you do not believe that anybody in that ship 
 could look at the handsome little fellow and take him 
 for a criminal. You don't, indeed!
 
 318 LILITH 
 
 "The Vulture was a very slow sailer, and we were 
 five months at sea. 
 
 "It was the first of May when the ship reached 
 Hobart Town. 
 
 "Here the convict gang were handcuffed, two and 
 two, sent on shore under strong guard, and trans- 
 ferred from the custody of the ship's officers to that 
 of the authorities in the town. 
 
 "They were lodged in jail that night, and the next 
 morning assigned to their work. 
 
 "And now John Weston's troubles began. As a 
 felon convicted of a capital crime, and condemned 
 to death, who had had his sentence commuted to 
 transportation and penal servitude for life, he was 
 at once classed among the worst criminals and sent 
 on to Port Arthur, the prison to which the most 
 heavily sentenced of the British convicts were at that 
 time doomed. 
 
 "True, the chaplain of the transport-ship had tried 
 to interest the jail chaplain and the colonial authori- 
 ties in favor of the boy; but all in vain. Chaplains 
 liave no authority and precious little influence in the 
 convict settlements. 
 
 "So John Weston, who had done very little evil in 
 liis brief life, poor lad! was shipped off to that per- 
 dition of evil-doers Port Arthur. 
 
 "It would be too cruel to harrow your heart with 
 any description of his sufferings there, where every 
 thing that could revolt his nature surrounded him. 
 
 "No more of that. One day he was sent for to 
 the office of the commandant, where be received the 
 first letter that he had seen since leaving England. 
 It was a joint letter from Joseph and L51, telling him 
 of their settlement at Seawood on the New Jersey 
 coast in America. Also of the good wages Joseph was 
 getting, and of their hopes soon to come out and join 
 him.
 
 LILITH 319 
 
 "Join him! How little they knew or suspected of 
 his dreadful condition! They evidently thought that 
 some chance of redemption had been given him, that 
 he had been assigned to some easy duty as clerk, 
 messenger, or bookkeeper in some of the officers' 
 quarters; that he would soon get his ticket-of-leave, 
 and only a little later his free pardon! And they 
 would come out and join him and settle down to 
 sheep-farming as hopeful colonists, as the too sanguine 
 chaplain had led them to anticipate. 
 
 "When the real truth was too horrible to dwell 
 upon! 
 
 "By the allusions in this letter, John Weston 
 learned that there must have been several other 
 letters that preceded this one, and had never reached 
 him. 
 
 "He did not reply to it; he had no heart to do so. 
 He preferred to let Joseph and Lil dream their dream 
 of the imaginary future a little longer, while he him- 
 self dreamed of escape or of suicide. 
 
 "Early one morning after this he was at work 
 under the timber cliffs, where many convicts were 
 employed cutting down trees, and lopping off their 
 branches, many others in rolling the huge boles down 
 to the beach, and others still among whom was John 
 Weston were toiling at the hardest work, up to their 
 waists in water, harnessed like mules to these im- 
 mense logs, and hauling them to the distant ship-yard. 
 
 "So early was the hour at which they had been 
 called to work- that it was as yet scarcely light on 
 that cool autumn morning. 
 
 "John Weston, driven to desperation by the misery 
 and hopelessness of his condition, suddenly deter- 
 mined to make a dash for freedom or for death. 
 While preparing to harness himself to the great bole 
 to be hauled, he .suddenly threw ropes and chains 
 over his head, leaped for the deeper water, and struck
 
 320 LILITH 
 
 oat for the open sea. He was a strong and skil- 
 ful swimmer, whose muscular strength had been 
 greatly developed by hard work in the open air; he 
 was stimulated by desperate hope, and everything was 
 in his favor. The tide was going out and the sea was 
 calm. 
 
 "If he could, only reach that rugged promontory 
 nine miles distant up the coast, a point totally inac- 
 cessible by land, and almost so by water also, except 
 by such a desperate wretch as himself. 
 
 "If he could reach that point, climb that cliff, lose 
 himself in that impenetrable wilderness, why, then, 
 he might starve or freeze to death in time, might be 
 killed by the bushmen, or devoured by wild beasts; 
 but he could never be recaptured, and he might 
 eventually escape. 
 
 "A forlorn hope! But he seized it for all and more 
 than all it was worth. 
 
 "Ah! but scarcely had he taken his leap for life 
 before the alarm was given, and shot after shot was 
 fired. One struck him, grazing the tip of his ear. 
 lie dived instantly, and that gave the rise to the re- 
 port of his death 'shot while trying to make his es- 
 cape!' No more shots were fired after that! When 
 he rose again to the surface he was so far from the 
 shore that his small cropped head was lost to view 
 among the billows. 
 
 "He never reached the promontory, however. His 
 strength gave out, or was giving out, when he swam 
 for a floating log that had been washed away from 
 the timber cliffs. Around this he clasped himself, 
 and kept himself up, as well as he could, to put off 
 death as long as possible. 
 
 "He was drifting farther and farther out to sea, 
 and his senses were becoming benumbed and his 
 thoughts confused; yet still he instinctively held on
 
 LILITH 321 
 
 to the log until everything else seemed to have left 
 him. 
 
 "When John Weston recovered his consciousness 
 he found himself in a comfortable berth in a ship 
 that he afterwards discovered to be the American 
 merchantman Buzzard, homeward bound from Cal- 
 cutta to New York. 
 
 "Later on he learned the facts of his rescue. H 
 had been seen floating on the log by the man at the 
 look-out. A boat had been put off to his relief, and 
 he had been brought on board the ship, in apparent 
 death. All means known to science had been used 
 for his restoration, and they had proved successful. 
 
 "In a day or two John Weston was strong as ever, 
 and went before the mast a willing worker, in a 
 short-handed ship, which had lost several of its men 
 by fever w r hile in port at Calcutta. 
 
 "On reaching New York he discharged himself, and 
 glad, glorious with this realization of freedom, he 
 started at once for Seawood to give Joseph and Lil 
 a joyful surprise. 
 
 "Ah, how soon were his high hopes dashed to the 
 ground! He reached Seawood the same day. 
 
 "He inquired for Mr. Joseph Wyvil. He was told 
 the sad tragedy with which you are already ac- 
 quainted that Joseph Wyvil had been drowned in 
 rescuing the son of a Major Hereward, that Mrs. 
 Wyvil had died on the same day on which her child 
 was born, and that the orphan baby-girl had been 
 adopted and taken away to be brought up as his own 
 daughter by Major Hereward. 
 
 "Poor Joe to give him back his familiar name 
 since his escape poor Joe was nearly crushed to 
 death by this blow. He inquired about Major Here- 
 ward, but could not find out his address. 
 
 "The rector, w r ho had been with Lil in her last mo-
 
 LILITH 
 
 ments, might have given him the information, but he 
 had gone to Europe for his health. 
 
 "At last poor Joe gave up the search for the time 
 being, and contented himself, on the child's account, 
 by reflecting that she was in good hands and much 
 better situated than she could be in his own posses- 
 sion, even if he, the fugitive convict, could dare to 
 claim her. 
 
 "Satisfied as to his child's fortunes, but heart- 
 broken for his wife's and his brother's loss, the poor 
 fellow started on an aimless tramp over the country, 
 getting a job of work here and there, just enough to 
 keep him from starvation; sleeping in barns and out- 
 houses, and faring as hard as he had fared in prison, 
 except in loss of liberty. 
 
 "One day he fell in with a company of strolling 
 players, and he joined them, getting nothing for his 
 services except his 'victual and drink,' and very little 
 and of very poor quality of that. 
 
 "But, after all, it was the small beginning of great 
 things in that line. At first he was only trusted with 
 small parts; but people were pleased to say he was 
 handsome, elegant and attractive; he soon developed 
 dramatic talent, and was charged with the leading 
 parts in whatever might be afoot of tragedy, comedy 
 or opera. 
 
 "After awhile he joined a circus company, where 
 he learned to ride and to perform wondrous feats of 
 equestrianism. He studied to improve himself in all 
 these arts, of singing, riding, acting. 
 
 "He belonged, in succession, to many traveling 
 companies, and he went all over the United States, 
 the West Indies, Bermuda, and into several of the 
 countries of South America. It took years, but at 
 last he reached the climax of his fame as 'Mr. Alfred 
 Ancillon, the World-Renowned,' and so forth and so 
 forth! Bat with all this, he never made his fortune,
 
 LILITH 323 
 
 and never, in all his life, had a hundred dollars over 
 and above his expenses; no, not even when he was 
 the proprietor of the Grand Plantagenet and Monl- 
 morenci Combination, etc., etc., which had the honor 
 of playing before the enlightened audience of Frost- 
 hill, while all the crowned heads of Europe were pin- 
 ing for its presence. 
 
 "It was while at Frosthill that Mr. Alfred Ancil- 
 lon chanced to hear of poor Joe WyviFs little daugh- 
 ter, now grown to womanhood and married to her 
 adopted father's only son, and that since the death of 
 Major Hereward, and the departure of Mr. Hereward 
 for Washington, she had been living alone at Cloud 
 Cliffs. 
 
 "A very natural and most eager desire seized him 
 to behold his daughter. He went to Cloud Cliffs and 
 introduced himself, fearing the while that she would 
 ' lil to recognize his claim and would deny him. 
 
 "But as fate would have it, she had, only that day, 
 for the first time, overhauled certain old letters and 
 papers, which had not seen the light since the day 
 she was born; and in them she had read the story of 
 poor Joe's life, and had even seen poor Joe's photo- 
 graph. 
 
 "So when he revealed himself she recognized him 
 at once. And when he explained that he was a fugi- 
 tive from injustice, and that the extradition treaty 
 was in force, she readily took the oath of secrecy her 
 father prescribed for her the oath that has been the 
 cause of so much misunderstanding, suspicion and 
 misery. 
 
 "Among the papers that he found in the old trunk, 
 which had escaped his daughter's notice, was a diary 
 kept by the old seaman, Zebedee Wyvil, in which 
 was described, among other matters, the embarka- 
 tion of Seiior Don Louis Zuniga, with his wife, Donna 
 Isabella Mendoza, and their infant son; and also the
 
 324 LILITH 
 
 Marquis of , the brother of the lady, on the 
 
 Falcon, homeward bound from Havana to Liverpool. 
 
 "The diary, suddenly stopped and renewed ten days 
 later, described the wreck of the Falcon, and the dis- 
 tribution of the crew and passengers into three boats; 
 commanded respectively by the captain, the first 
 mate and the second mate. The Marquis of 
 found a place in the captain's boat, the Sefior Zuniga, 
 with his wife and child, in the third boat. 
 
 "The diary went on to describe the sufferings of 
 the party in the last boat, and the subsequent death 
 of the sefior and seiiora, and the rescue of the only 
 survivors, Zebedee Wyvil and the Spanish infant. 
 
 "This record, begun in a small pocket volume, was 
 continued in similar books, and kept up to the end 
 of the writer's life. And it contained a true record 
 of the Spanish boy's adoption and education. 
 
 "Mr. Alfred Ancillon, thinking that he had the best 
 right to this, took possession of it, without saying 
 anything about it to his daughter. His silence on 
 the subject was not premeditated, however, but the 
 mere result of having so many more interesting things 
 to talk of. 
 
 "When, however, Mr. Ancillon went to Washing- 
 ton to play at the Varieties he happened to hear that 
 
 the Marquis of was minister from the Court 
 
 of P - to that capital. Subsequently he saw the 
 minister in a public place, and certainly recognized a 
 family likeness to himself. 
 
 "Then he laid his little plan. When his engage- 
 ment at the Varieties ended, he did not go on to San 
 Francisco as he was advertised to go, but sent a 
 young man of his troupe, made up to personate him, 
 while he stayed in the city and made himself up in 
 his true, his only true, character, that of the Sefior 
 Zuniga, and so presented himself to the Marquis of 
 as his nephew, the son of his deceased sister.
 
 LILITH 325 
 
 "The hidalgo was startled, amazed, incredulous. 
 
 "But the senor had his proofs, and these were cor- 
 roborated by a strong family likeness. 
 
 "There was much cross-questioning, and close in- 
 Testigation. The marquis learned all the facts of 
 the wreck of the Falcon, which, by the way, his own 
 memory confirmed. 
 
 "He heard all about the death of his sister and 
 brother in law, and the survival and rescue of Mate 
 Zebedee Wyvil and the infant, Zuniga, by the Polly 
 Ann. 
 
 "He heard all the details of the adoption, rearing 
 and education of the young Zuniga by the male, 
 Zebedee Wyvil, and of the life of the youth at home, 
 at college, and at sea, up to the time of his return 
 from his voyage with Captain Pentecost. 
 
 "But he learned nothing of the runaway marriage, 
 the trial for murder, the transportation to the penal 
 colonies, the escape thence, the theatrical career and 
 so on. 
 
 "In short, the marquis learned all of his young 
 relative that it was expedient that he should know, 
 and nothing more. 
 
 "And when he was satisfied that his nephew 
 wanted nothing whatever from him, either of money, 
 influence or preferment, or any other favor, and when 
 he was pleased to see that the young man was fairly 
 presentable in society, he graciously acknowledged 
 him, entertained him, and presented him to his 
 friends. 
 
 "You know the rest. 
 
 "But this must be acknowledged that never, in his 
 whole successful career as an actor, did the 'world- 
 renowned artist, Mr. Alfred Ancillon,' undertake so 
 difficult a part, or achieve so splendid a triumph, a 
 when he caused himself to be introduced to his own 
 daughter as the Senor Zuniga, and thoroughly do-
 
 326 LILITH 
 
 ceived her in regard to his identity! For although, 
 at first, she was startled out of her self-possession 
 by what she considered a most amazing likeness, yet 
 still in the end she was completely deluded. 
 
 "And now one word as to the fine art of success- 
 ful disguise. It does not consist in coarse contri- 
 vances, like staining the complexion of a different hue 
 or wearing a wig of different colored hair, or any- 
 thing of that sort, which does not alter the form of 
 the features, or the character of the countenance. It 
 consists in very refined touches, invisible to the naked 
 eye, and yet capable of changing the whole individ- 
 uality of the face, so that, though it may leave a 
 likeness, it will seem only a likeness. These super- 
 fine, magical touches are delicate strokes with a 
 camel's hair pencil at the corners of the eyebrows, 
 the corners of the eyelids, corners of the nostrils and 
 of the mouth, changing the angles up or down as 
 may be required, and so changing the very shape of 
 the features so delicately that the art cannot be de- 
 tected. Then, with a slight modification in the glance 
 of the eye, the tone of the voice, and the gesture of 
 the hand, the transformation is complete. 
 
 "In this artistic manner Zuniga deluded everybody 
 as to his identity, so that if any one had ventured to 
 raise the question whether or not he was the man 
 known to the play-going public as Mr. Alfred Ancil- 
 lon, his intimate friends must have scouted the idea, 
 and while admitting the likeness, denied the identity, 
 because, and so forth, and so forth. 
 
 "You know the rest of the adventurer's story quite 
 as well as he does; so little more need to be added, 
 except that he has bitterly repented all the sorrow 
 his recklessness brought upon his daughter, and even 
 upon her husband. It is not certain that his recov- 
 ery of his proper name, Zuniga, will lead to any last- 
 ing benefit to himself or any one connected with him.
 
 LILITH 327 
 
 As the only son and heir of Don Luis Zuniga, he 
 would be entitled to large landed estates and much 
 funded wealth, all held in abeyance. But courts of 
 law would require more proof of his identity than it 
 may be practical to produce, so it is very doubtful 
 whether his estates can ever be recovered. That is all, 
 friends." 
 
 As the Sefior Zuniga concluded his story, he arose, 
 kissed his daughter, and took a turn up and down the 
 room. 
 
 "You have been more sinned against than sinning! 
 What a life you have led!" exclaimed Tudor Hereward. 
 
 "And I am not yet forty years of age! An age at 
 which many men, and women, too, actually first marry 
 and begin life!" said Zuniga, pausing in the midst of 
 his walk. 
 
 "You must begin a happier life from this time forth, 
 dear," said Lilith, tenderly. 
 
 "I I I think Don't you all think as we had 
 better have luncheon now? Everybody looks so tired," 
 said Mrs. Downie, wiping her eyes. 
 
 Zuniga broke into one of his hilarious laughs and 
 seconded the motion, which was carried unanimously. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 THE Herewards, Senor Zuiiiga and Mrs. Downie, 
 according to arrangement, lived on in the house in 
 the Champs Elyse"es during the month of the Prince 
 and Princess Gherardini's bridal tour. 
 
 In that month they saw they even became familiar 
 with all that was most worth seeing in Paris. 
 
 They also made excursions to all places of interest 
 in easy reach of the city.
 
 LILITH 
 
 To well-read persons like the Herewards and 
 Zuniga, who from books were prepared for all things, 
 there could be no surprise; but to Aunt Sophie every 
 day was a new life, every scene a new world, so that 
 she came into a chronic state of amazement. 
 
 At the end of the month the Prince and Princess 
 Gherardini returned to Paris. 
 
 As Mr. Hereward had still a few days of leisure 
 left, his host and hostess insisted on his spending 
 those days as their guest in Paris. 
 
 Mrs. Downie was easily persuaded to stay as long 
 as Lilith should stay. 
 
 The Prince and Princess gave a series of brilliant 
 entertainments at the commencement of the Paris 
 sea SOB. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Tudor Hereward always assisted them 
 in receiving. And the Paris world whispered to- 
 gether: 
 
 "So that was the distinguished statesman to whom 
 Madame Wyvil was betrothed Monsieur Hereward, 
 of the American Legation at the Court of - ." 
 
 Mrs. Downie, in the same black satin dress, trimmed 
 with black Brussels lace and black bugles, with a 
 white point lace cap on her head all of which had 
 been presented to her by the princess to be worn at 
 her wedding was always present with the receiving 
 party, dodging a little behind whenever a great dig- 
 nitary, covered with stars, crosses and orders, or a 
 grande dame blazing with diamonds, approached the 
 circle; yet so thoroughly enjoying the splendid pa- 
 geant that at length she grew really alarmed as to her 
 spiritual condition, and privately spoke her miad to 
 Lilith, as follows: 
 
 "I never was drunk in my life, honey, and I never 
 seed anybody else drunk, but I have read and I hearn 
 a heap about drunk; and I do think, for the last 
 week or so, since the princess have been giving these
 
 LILITH 329 
 
 high parties, and I mixed up into it all, I must feel just 
 like people do when they are crazy drunk. I ain't 
 myself, honey! I ain't indeed! I donno what Brother 
 Perkins or Brother More would think if they knew 
 the state I'm in. I don't indeed! Why, child when 
 I go up into my room and shut the door and begin 
 my prayers with reciting my hymn: 
 
 'Fading, still fading, the last ray is shining, 
 Father in Heaven, the day is declining 
 Safety and innocence fly with the light, 
 Temptation and danger walk forth with the night,' 
 
 instead of the music of that comforting hymn, there 
 is sounding through my brain 
 
 'Tooty-loo-loo! Tooty-loo-loo! Tooty-loo-loo!' 
 
 or some such sinful tune as them there misguided 
 young men and women waltz around to, with their 
 heads on each other's shoulders and their arms around 
 each other's waists in a way I can't approve of. And 
 so, honey, I think when you and Mr. Hereward leave 
 here, I shall go home and try to get back my sober 
 senses." 
 
 "But you have enjoyed it, Aunt Sophie," urged 
 Lilith. 
 
 "That's the worst of it, honey! I have enjoyed it 
 too much! It is a temptation and a snare! A delud- 
 ing snare. 
 
 'Tooty-loo-loo! Tooty-loo-loo! Tooty-loo-loo!' 
 
 There I am again with the waltz whirling round in 
 my old Methodist brain! Yes, honey, I am going 
 home!" 
 
 ''But, Aunt Sophie, you must go first with Mr. 
 
 Hereward and myself to our home in . I know 
 
 you would like to see for yourself where I am to live, 
 so that you may be able to picture me in my home."
 
 LILITH 
 
 "Oh, yes! indeed I should, but- 
 
 "But you will go! My father is to go home with 
 us for a visit and afterwards he also is to go back 
 to America. And now don't you see that he who 
 brought you out here should also take you home?" 
 
 "Oh, yes! Well, if the 'sinner' is going back so 
 soon as you say, it would be worth my while to stay 
 and go along with him. So I reckon I will." 
 
 At the end of the month of festivity, Tudor, Lilith 
 and Aunt Sophie bade good-bye to their hospitable 
 host and hostess, and left Paris for . 
 
 On their arrival at that city Mr. Hereward took 
 them at once to the handsomely furnished house he 
 had engaged, near the Royal Palace. 
 
 It was afternoon when they arrived. 
 
 And here a glad surprise awaited Lilith. As she en- 
 tered the hall, led in by her husband, a great black 
 beast flew to meet her and rolled joyously at her feet! 
 
 It was Lion, her faithful Newfoundland dog, who 
 had followed her to the railway station, and from 
 whom she had parted on that dreadful night of her 
 banishment from her home, as she had supposed, for- 
 ever. 
 
 Her joy at meeting her favorite was scarcely less 
 than his own. She welcomed, caressed and talked to 
 him. 
 
 "Loyal old Lion! We will never part again! Never 
 again, dear old Lion! until death takes one or the 
 other," said Lilith, as at last she disengaged herself 
 from him and went upstairs to her room, conducted 
 by Hereward. 
 
 Here another surprise awaited her. 
 
 As she entered the room her old nurse, house- 
 keeper and lady's-maid, Nancy, came to meet her; but 
 almost instantly became inarticulate in her words of 
 welcome, and then burst into happy, hysterical tears. 
 
 When these had subsided, and Lilith and Aunt
 
 LILITH 331 
 
 Sophie, having laid off their wraps, were seated 
 around the blazing wood fire of the bed-room, with 
 Liom stretched on the rug before them, and Nancy 
 standing leaning her head against the mantelpiece, 
 Hereward explained: 
 
 "On the day after I met you in Paris, Lilith, five 
 weeks ago, I wrote to Oxley, at Cloud Cliffs, to send 
 Stephen, Alick, Nancy, and the Newfoundland dog, 
 Lion, out to me by one of the French line of steam- 
 ers that sail direct for Havre. I gave him minute 
 instructions to see the party all the way from Cloud 
 Cliffs to New York, and on to the ship by which 
 they would sail. I directed him to carry out all 
 these instructions without loss of time. And I in- 
 closed a bill of exchange to cover all expenses. He 
 acted so promptly and intelligently on my orders that 
 the whole party reached here four days ago." 
 
 "But I can't get it out'n my head, Miss Lilif, as 
 you and me has died and waked up in t'other world! 
 I'm thankful it ain't the bad place; but it don't look 
 quite like heaven nuther! And that's what puzzles 
 ob me," said Nancy. 
 
 "Never mind, you will corne around quite right in 
 a few days," replied Lilith, consolingly. 
 
 Senor Zuniga stayed until after Christmas with the 
 Herewards, and then, about the middle of January, 
 sailed for New York. 
 
 Senor Zuniga succeeded beyond his sanguine hopes 
 in recovering his patrimonial estates. He sold them 
 for all they were worth and invested the money in 
 West Virginia land near Frosthill. 
 
 Then he married his devoted admirer, Harriet Miles, 
 who was never tired of telling her friends that she 
 always knew that he was a young nobleman in dis- 
 guise who was only playing at play acting for his own 
 amusement. 
 
 Madame Zuniga's stepfather, old Jab Jordon, is a
 
 332 LILITH 
 
 very much, subdued old man. First, he is "set upon" 
 by Mrs. Jab, and secondly by Master Jab, their only 
 son and heir. 
 
 Mr. Rufus Hilary wonders that his brother-in-law 
 should ever have left the exciting and glorious life 
 of a "world-renowned" dramatic artist, to settle down 
 into a merely respectable farmer and father of a 
 family Mr. Rufus Hilary is still an ardent admirer 
 and liberal patron of the stage; he is still unmarried, 
 and his pretty young sister, Miss Emily Miles, keeps 
 his house. 
 
 The Herewards are still abroad Mr. Hereward fill- 
 ing a very important diplomatic position at one of the 
 highest courts in Europe, and Mrs. Hereward, at last 
 his deeply loved wife, his companion in domestic life, 
 his helper in official life, is one of the most brilliant 
 and admired among les grandes dames who add lustre 
 to the drawing-rooms of the empress. 
 
 THE END
 
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