ICTOK RIUMPH f "Stmii-southworth VICTOR'S Triumph The Sequel to "A Beautiful Fiend" By MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH AUTHOR OF "The Lost Lady of Lone," «*The Trail of the Serpent," " Nearest and Dearest,'* " Her Mother's Secret," Etc. A. L. BURT COMPANY Publishers New York POPULAR BOOKS Price per volume, By MRS. E. D. E N. SOUTHWORTH Id Handsome Cloth Binding 60 Cents Beautiful Fiend, A Brandon Coyle's Wife Sequel to A Skeleton in the Closet Bride's Fate, The Sequel to The Changed Brides Bride's Ordeal, The Capitola's Peril Sequel to the Hidden Hand Changed Brides, The Cruel as the Grave David Lindsay Sequel to Gloria Deed Without a Name, A Dorothy Harcourt's Secret Sequel to A Deed Without a Name " Em " Em s Husband Sequel to "Em" Fair Play For Whose Sake Sequel to Why Did He Wed Her? For Woman's Love Fulfilling Her Destiny Sequel to When Love Commands Gloria Her Love or Her Life Sequel to The Bride's Ordeal Her Mother's Secret Hidden Hand, The How He Won Her Sequel to Fair Play Ishmael Leap in the Dark, A Ulith Sequel to the Unlcvcti "Wife Little Nea's Engagement Sequel to Nearest and Dearest Lost Heir, The Lost Lady of Lone, The Love's Bitterest Cup Sequel to Her Mother's Secret Mysterious Marriage, The Sequel to A Leap in the Dark Nearest and Dearest Noble Lord, A Sequel to The Lost Heir Self-Raised Sequel to Ishmael Skeleton in the Closet, A Struggle of a Soul, The Sequel to The Lost Lady of Lone Sweet Love's Atonement Test of Love, The Sequel to A Tortured Heart To His Fate Sequel to Dorothy Harcourt*8 Secret Tortured Heart, A Sequel to The Trail of the Serpent Trail of the Serpent, The Tried for Her Life Sequel to Cruel as the Grave Unloved Wife. The Unrequited Love, An Sequel to For Woman's Love Victor's Triumph Sequel to A Beautiful Fiend V^T^^n Love Commands When Snadows Die Sequel to Lov«^'s Bitterest Cup Why .Did He Wed Her? Zenobia's Suitors Sequel to Sweet Love's Atonement For Sale by all Booksellers or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price, A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 52 Duane Street New York VICTOR'S TRIUMPH CHAPTER I SAMSON AND DELILAH As SOON as the subtle siren was left alone in the draw- ing-room with the aged clergyman, she began weaving her spells around him as successfully as did the beautiful en- chantress Vivien around the sage Merlin. Throwing her bewildering dark eyes up to his face, she murm.ured in hurried tones : "You will not betray me to this family? Oh, consider! I am so young and so helpless !" "And so beautiful/' added the old man under his breath, as he gazed with involuntary admiration upon her fair, false face. Then aloud, he said: "I have already told you, wretched child, that I would forbear to expose you so long as you should conduct yourself with strict propriety here ; but no longer." "You do not trust me. Ah, you do not see that one false step, witli its terrible consequence, has been such an awful and enduring lesson to me that I could not make another. I am safer now from the possibility of error than is the most innocent and carefully guarded child. Oh ! can you not understand this ?" she asked, pathetically. And her argument was a very specious and plausible one, and it made an impression. *'i can well believe that the fearful retribution that fol- lowed so fast upon your 'false step,' as yor choose to call 8 9i29t>0 4 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH it, has bofn and ^ili he an awful warning to you. But some warnings come too late. What can be your long futurslife-?^' he s^idly ingiiired. "Alas ? what?" she echoed, with a profound sigh. "Even under the most propitious circumstances — what? If I am permitted to stay here, I shall be buried alive in this coun- try house, without hope of resurrection. Perhaps fifty years I may have to live here. The old lady will die. Emma will marry. Her children will grow up and marry. And in all the changes of future years I shall vegetate here without change, and without hope except in the bet- ter world. And yet, dreary as the prospect is, it is the best that I can expect, the best that I can even desire, and much better than I deserve," she added, with a hu- mility that touched the old man's heart. "I feel sorry for you, child; very, very sorry for your blighted young life. Poor child ! you can never be happy again; but listen — you can be good !" he said, very gently. And then he suddenly remembered what her bewilder- ing charms had made him for a moment forget — that was, that this unworthy girl had been actually on the point of marriage with an honorable man when death stepped in and put an end to the foolish engagement. So, after a painful pause, he said slowly: "My child, I have heard that you were about to be mar- ried to Charles Cavendish, when his sudden death arrested the nuptials. Is that true?" "It is true," she answered, in a tone of humility and sorrow. "But how could you venture to dream of marrying him?" "Ah, me; I knew I was unworthy of him. But he fell in love with me. I could not help that. Now, could I? Now, could I?" she repeated, earnestly and pathetically, looking at him. "N-n-no. Perhaps you could not," he admitted. " And, oh, he courted me so bard ! so hard ! And I could not prevent him." VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 5 ^* Could you not have avoided him? Could you not have left the house?" "Ah, no; I had no place to go to. I had lost my situa- tion in the school." "Still you should never have engaged yourself to marry Charles Cavendish, for you must have been aware that if he had known your true story he would never have thought of taking you as his wife.'^ "Oh, I know it. And I knew it then. And I was un- happy enough about it. But, oh ! what could I do ? I could not prevent his loving me, do what I would. I could not go away from the house, because I had no place on earth to go to. And, least of all would I go to him and tell him the terrible story of my life. I would rather have died than have told that ! I should have died of hu- miliation in the telling. I couldn't tell him. Now, could I? Could I?" "I suppose you had not the courage to do so." "No, indeed, I had not. Yet very often I told him, in a general way, that I was most unworthy of him. But he never would believe that." " No ; I suppose he believed you to be everything that is pure, good, and heavenly. What a terrible reproach his exalted opinion of you must have been !" "Oh, it was! it was!" she answered, hypocritically. "It was such a severe reproach that, having in a moment of weakness yielded to his earnest prayer and consented to become his wife, I soon cast about for some excuse for breaking the engagement; for I felt if it were a great wrong to make such an engagement, rt would be a still greater wrong to keep it. Don't you agree with me ?" "Yes, most certainly." "Well, while I was seeking some excuse to break off the marriage, death stepped in and put an end to it. Per- haps then I ought to have left the house, but — I had no money to go with, and, as I said before, no place to go to. And, besides, Emma Cavendish was overwlielmed with grief, and could not bear to be left alone: and she begged 6 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH me to come down here with her. So, driven by my own necessities and drawn by hers, I came down. Do you blame me ? Do you blame me ?" she coaxed, pathetically. "No, I do not blame you for that. But," said the old man, gravely and sadly, shaking his head, "why, when you got here, did you turn eavesdropper and spy?" "Oh, me! oh, dear me!" sobbed the siren. "It was the sin of helplessness and cowardice. I dreaded discovery so much. Every circumstance alarmed me. Your arrival and your long, mysterious conversation with madam alarmed me. I thought exposure imminent. I feared to lose this home, which, lonely, dreary, hopeless as it is to me, is yet the only refuge I have left on earth. I am penniless and helpless ; and but for this kind family I should be homeless and friendless. Think! if I had been cast out upon the world, what mu?t have been my fate !" "What, indeed !" echoed the old man. "Therefore, I dreaded to be cast out. I dreaded dis- covery. Your visit filled me with uneasiness, that, as the day wore away, reached intense anxiety, and finally arose to insupporta])le anguish and suspense. Then I went to listen at the door, only to hear whether your conversation concerned me — whether I was still to be left in peace, or to be cast out upon the bitter, cold world. Ah, do not blame me too much ! Just think how I suffered !" she said, pathetically, clasping her hands. " Poor girl ! you were snared in the web of your own contriving. Yet, still, when I caught you in that net, why did you deny j'our identity, and try to make me believe you were somebody else?" " Oh, oh ! the same sin of helplessness and cowardice ; the same fear of discovery and exposure; the same horror of being cast forth from this pure, safe, peaceful home, into the bitter, cold, foul, perilous world outside ! I feared if you found out who I was, you would expose me, and I should be cast adrift. And then it ail came so suddenly I had no time for reflection. The instinct of self-preserva- tion mxade me deny my identity before I considered what VICTOR'S TRIUMPH T a falsehood I uttered. Ah, have you no pity for me, iu considering the straits to which I was reduced?" she pleaded, clasping her hands before him, and raising her eyes to his face. " *The way of the transgressor is hard,' " murmured the minister to himself. Then he answered her: "Yes, I do pity you very much. I pity you for your sins and sufTerings. But more than all, I pity you for the moral and spiritual blindness of which you do not even seem to be suspicious, far less conscious." "T do not understand you," murmured Mary Grey, in a low, frightened tone. "N"o, you do not understand me. Well, I will try to ex- plain. You have pleaded your youth as an excuse for your first 'false step,' as you call it. But I tell you that a girl who is old enough to sin is old enough to know bet- ter than to sin. And if you were not morally and spirit- ually blind, you would see this. Secondly, you have pleaded your necessities — that is, your interests — as a just cause and excuse for your matrimonial engagement with Governor Cavendish, and for your eavesdropping in this house, and also for your false statements to me. But I tell you, if you had been as truly penitent as you pro- fessed to be, you would have felt no necessity so pressing as the necessity for true repentance, forgiveness and amend- ment. And if you had not been morally and spiritually blind, you would have seen this also. I sometimes think that it may be my duty to discover you to this family. Yet I will be candid with you. I fear that if you should be turned adrift here, you might, and probably would, fall into deeper sin. Therefore I will not expose you — for the present, and upon conditions. You are safe from me so long as you remain true, honest and faithful to this house- hold. But upon the slightest indication of any sort of duplicity or double dealing, I shall unmask you to ]\Iadtim Cavendish. And now you had better retire. Good-night." And with these words the old man walked to a side-table. S VICTOR'S TRroMPH took a bedroom candle in his hand, and gave it to the widow. ^lary Grey snatched and kissed his hand, courtesied and withdrew. When she got to her own room, she threw herself into a chair and laughed softly, murmuring : ''The old Pharisee! He is more than half in love with me now. I know it, and I feel it. Yet, to save his own credit with himself, he pretends to lecture me, and tries to persuade himself that he means it. But he is half in love with me. Before I have done with him he shall be wholly in love with me. And won't it be fun to have his gray head at my feet, proposing marriage to me? And that is what I mean to bring him to, before a month is over his venerable skeleton." And with this characteristic resolution Mary Grey went to bed. CHAPTER 11 A MYSTERIOUS BENEFACTOE There never was a closer friendship between two girls than that which bound Laura Lytton and Emma Caven- dish together. On the night of Laura's arrival, after they had retired from the drawing-room, and Electra had gone to bed and gone to sleep, Laura and Emma sat up together in Emma's room and talked until nearly daylight — talked of every- thing in the heavens above, the earth below, and the waters under the earth. And then, when at length they parted, Laura asked: " May I come in here with you to dress to-morrow ? And then we can finish our talk." "Surely, love. L^se my room Just like your own," an- swered Emma, with a ki?s. And they separated for a few hours. VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 9 But early in the morning, as soon as Emma was out of bed, she heard a tap at her chamber door, and she opened it to see Laura standing there in her white merino dress- ing-gown, with her dark hair hanging down and a pile of clothing over her arms. ^'Come in, dear," said Emma, gretting her with a kiss. And Laura entered and laid her pile of clothing on a chair, discovering in her hand a rich casket, which she set upon the dressing-table, saying: "Here, Emma, dear, I have something very curious to show you. You have heard me speak of some unknown friend who is paying the cost of my brother's and my own education ?" "Yes. Haven't you found out yet who he is?" inquired Miss Cavendish. "x^o; and I do not even know whether our benefactor is a he or a she. But, anyhow, he has sent me this," said Laura, unlocking the casket and lifting the lid. "A set of diamonds and opals fit for a princess!" ex- claimed Emma, in admiration, as she gazed upon the deep blue satin tray, on which was arranged a brooch, a pair of earrings, a bracelet and a necklace of the most beautiful opals set in diamonds. "Yes, they are lovely. They must have come from Paris. They are highly artistic," answered Laura. "But look at these others, will you? These are barbaric," she added, lifting the upper tray from the casket, and taking from the recess beneath the heaviest cable gold chain, a heavier finger ring, and a pair of bracelets. "Just take these in your double hands and ^heft' them, as the children say," she concluded, as she put the weight of gold in Emma's open palms, which sank at first under the burden. "There! what do you think of that?" inquired Laura. "I think they are barbaric, as you said. Well intended, no doubt, but utterly barbaric. Why, this gold chain might fasten up the strongest bulldog, and these bracelets serve as fetters for the most desperate felon. Where on earth were they manufactured?" inquired Miss Cavendish. 10 VICTOR'S TRimiPH "In some rude country where there was more gold than good taste, evidently. However, Emma, dear, there is something very touching, very pathetic, to my mind, in these anonymous offerings. Of course they are almost use- less to me. I could never wear the chain, or the bracelets. They are far too clumsy for any one but an Indian chief ; and I can never wear those lovely opals unless by some miracle I grow rich enough to have everything in harmony with them. And yet, Emma, the kindness, and — what shall I say? — the humility of this anonymous giver su deeply touches my heart, that I would not part with even r link of this useless chain to buy myself bread, if I were starving,'^ murmured Laura, with the tears filling her eyefc, as she replaced tlie jewels in their casket. "And you have no suspicion who the donor is?" "None whatever. These came to me through Mr. Lyle, the agent who receives and pays the money for our educa- tion." "What does your brother say to all this?" "Oh, it makes him very uneasy at times. He shrinks from receiving this anonymous assistance. It is all Mr. Lyle can do now, by assuring him that in the end he will find it all right, to induce him to continue to receive it. And, at all events, he declares that after he graduates he will not take another dollar of this anonymous fund — con- science money or not — but that he will begin to pay back in bank, with interest and compound interest, the debt that he is now incurring." "I think that resolution is highly to his honor," said Emma Cavendish. "And he will keep it. I know Alden," answered Laura. And then the two girls hastened to dress themselves for breakfast. And very well they both looked as they left their room. Laura wore her crimson merino morning dress, with white linen cuffs and collar, a costume that well became her olive complexion and dark hair and eyes. Emma wore a black cashmere trimmed with lusterless VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 11 black silk, and folded book muslin cuffs and collar. And in this dark dress her radiant blond beauty shone like a fair star. They rapped at Electra's door to bring her out. She made her appearance looking quite dazzling. Elec- tra had a gay taste in dress. She loved bright colors, and many of them. She wore a purple dressing-gown with a brilliant shawl border — a dress for a portly old lady rather than for a slim young girl. They went down together to the breakfast-room, where they found the languishing widow and the old clergyman tete-a-tete. Mrs. Grey greeted them with a sweet smile and honeyed words, and Dr. Jones with a kindly good-morning and handshake. And they sat down to breakfast. This Easter Sunday had dawned clearly and beautifully. The family of Blue Cliffs were all going to attend divine service at Wendover. So, as soon as breakfast was over, the carriage was or- dered, and the young ladies went upstairs to dress for church. At nine o'clock the whole party set out. Emma Caven- dish, Laura Lytton and Electra Coroni went in the old family coach, carefully driven by Jerome. Mrs. Grey went in a buggy, driven by the Rev. Dr. Jones. Who arranged this last drive, this tete-d-tete, no one knew, except the artful coquette and her venerable victim. They all reached the church in good time. The rector, the Rev. Dr. Goodwin, read the morning service, and the Rev. Dr. Jones preached the sermon. At the conclusion of the services, when the congregation were leaving, Mr. Craven Kyte came up to pay his respects to the ladies from Blue Cliffs. Miss Cavendish introduced him to Dr. Jones, explain- ing that he had been a ward of her father, and was once an inmate of Blue Cliff Hall. 12 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH Dr. Jones received the young man with courtesy, and in his turn introduced him to Miss Coroni. Then Emma Cavendish invited him to go home with them to dinner, kindly reminding him of the old custom of spending his holidays in his guardian's house. With a smile and a bow, and with a warm expression of thanks, the young man accepted the offered hospitality. And when the party entered their carriages to return to Blue Cliffs, Craven Kyte, mounted on a fine horse, at- tended them. But mind, he did not ride beside the carriage that con- tained the three }oung ladies, but beside the gig occupied by Mary Grey and Dr. Jones. And the very first inquiry he made of Emma, on reach- ing the house, was : "Is the Rev. Dr. Jones a married man?" "Why, what a question!" exclaimed Emma, laughing. "N'o, he is not a married man. He is a widower. Why io you ask?" "I don't know. But I thought he was a widower. He seems very much taken with Mrs. Grey," sighed the young man. "Oh, is that it?" laughed Emma, as she ran away to take off her bonnet and mantle. And that Easter Sunday Mary Grey found herself again in a dilemma between her two proposed victims, the gray- haired elergyman and the raven-locked youth. But she managed them both with so much adroitness that at the close of the day, when Craven Kyte was riding slowly back to Wendover, he was saying to himself : " She is fond of me, after all ; the beauty ! the darling ! the angel ! Oh, that such a perfect creature should be fond of me! I am at this moment the very happiest man on earth." VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 13 CHAPTER III A GROWL FROM UNCLE JACKY The next day, Easter Monday, brought a messenger from Lytton Lodge, a messenger who was no other than Mithri- dates, commonly called "Taters,'' once a servant of Fred- erick Fanning, the landlord of White Perch Point, but now a hired hand of John L}i;ton's. Mithridates, or Taters, rode an infirm-looking old draft horse, with a dilapidated saddle and bridle, and wore a hat and coat exceedingly shabby for a gentleman's servant. He also led a second horse, furnished with a side-saddle. He dismounted at the carriage steps, tied his horses to a tree, and boldly went up to the front door and knocked. Jerome opened it, and administered a sharp rebuke to the messenger for presuming to knock at the visitor's door instead of at the servants'. "If I'd a come to the servants', I'd rapped at the ser- vants' door; but as I have come to the white folk's, I rap at der door. Here ! I've fotch a letter from Marse Jacky Lytton to his niece, Miss Lorrer," said Taters, pompously. "Give it to me, then, and I'll take it in to her,'' said Jerome. "Set you up with it! I must 'liver of this here letter with my own hands inter her own hands," said Taters, stoutly. "Well, come along, for a fool! You're a purty looking objick to denounce into the parlor! an't you, now?" said Jerome, leading the way. At that moment, unseen by Jerome, but distinctly seen by Taters, a face appeared at the head of the stairs for an instant; but, meeting the eye of Taters, turned white as death and vanished. Taters uttered a terrible cry, and sank, ashen pale and quaking with horror, at the foot of the steps. "Why, what in the name of the Old Boy is the matter 14 VICTOR^S TRIUMPH with yon, man ? Have you trod on a nail or piece of glass, or anything that has gone through your foot? or what is it?" demanded Jerome, in astonishment. "Oh, no, no, no, it's worse'n that! It's worse'n that ! It's no end worse'n that ! Oh, Lor ! Oh, Lor ! Oh, Ix)r !" cried Taters, holding his knees and sawing backward and forward in an agony of horror. "Ef you don't stop that howlin' and tell me what's the matter of you, I'm blessed ef I don't get a bucket of ice- water and heave it all over you to fetch you to your senses !" exclaimed the exasperated Jerome. "Oh, Lor! don't! Oh, please don't! I shill die quick enough now without that!" cried Taters, writhing hor- ribly. "What's the matter, you born iddiwut?" roared Jerome, in a fury. "Oh, I've seen a sperrit! I've seen a sperrit ! I've seen the sperrit of my young mistress ! And it's a token of my death !" wailed the negro boy in agony. "What's that you say? A sperrit? A sperrit in this yer 'spectable, 'sponsible house? Lookee here, nigger; mind what you say now, or it'll be the wus for you ! A sperrit in this yer ginteel family as never has a crime or a ghost inter it! The Cavendishers nebber 'mits no crimes when der living, nor likewise don't walk about ondecent arter der dead. And der an't no sperrits here," said Jerome, with ire. "Oh, I wish it wasn't ! I wish it wasn't ! But it was a sperrit. And it's a token of my death ! It's a token of my death !" howled Taters. And now at last the noise brought three young ladies out of the drawing-room. "What is the matter here, Jerome " inquired Miss Cav- endish. "Has any one got hurt? Who is that man?" "Ef you please. Miss Emma, no one an't eot hurt, though you might a thought, from the squealing, that theie w£b a dozen pigs a-killin'. And that man, miss, is a born iddi- \n;T, so he is — begging your pardon, miss — and says he's VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 15 seed a sperrit in this yer harristocraterick house, where there never was a sperrit yet/' explained Jerome, with a grieved and indignant look. Miss Cavendish passed by the privileged old family ser- vant, and went up to the man himself, and inquired : "Who are you? What brings you here? And what ails you?'' "Oh, miss! I'm Taters, I am. And I come to fetch a Jetter from Marse Jack Lytton to Miss Lorrer. And I seen a sperrit at the top o' them stair steps. And that's what's the matter of me," cried the boy. "A spirit! Jerome, do you think he's been drinking?" inquired the young lady, in a low, frightened voice. For an answer, Jerome, without the least hesitation, seized Taters by the head, pulled open his jaws and stuck his own nose into the cavity and took an audible snuff. Then releasing the head, he answered : "No, miss, he an't been drinking nuffin'. His breff's as sweet as a milch cow's. I reckon he must be subjick to ep- perliptic fits, by the way he fell down here all of a sudden, crying out as he'd seen a sperrit." "You said you had a letter, boy. Where is it?" inquired Emma. " Here, miss ! Here it is ! I'll give it to you, though I wouldn't give it to him there!" answered Taters, with a contemptuous glance toward Jerome. Emma took the letter, which was inclosed in a wonder- fully dingy yellow envelope, and she read the superscrip- tion, and then called to Laura, saying : "Come here, my dear. Here is a letter from Lytton Lodge for you." Laura Lytton, who, with Electra, had been standing Just within the drawing-room door, near enough to ob- serve the group, but not to hear the whole of their con- versation, now came when she was called, and received her letter. "It's from dear Uncle Jacky," she said, with an affec- tionate smile, as she recognized the handwriting. 16 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH And then she asked the messenger a multitude of ques- tions, which he was too much agitated to answer coher- ently, until at length Miss Cavendish said : "Jerome, take the poor fellow into the kitchen and give him something to eat and drink. There is nothing like beef and beer to exorcise evil spirits. And when he is rested and refreshed we will see him again." And Jerome took Taters rather roughly by the shoulder and pulled him upon his feet, and carried him along the hall through the back door toward the kitchen. "Will you excuse me now, dear Emma, while I read my uncle's letter?'^ inquired Laura, as she retreated to the drawing-room. "Certainly," smiled Miss Cavendish, following her guests. Laura went into the recess of a bay window and opened the dingy yellow envelope, and read as follows : Lytton" Lodge, April — , 18 — . "My Dear Niece: 1 think my nephew, Alden, has a more correcter ide^r of what is jue to kin and kith than what you have shown. "Alden is spending his Easter holida3's along of me and his relations. "But you haven't been nigh the house since you left it to go to school. You do seem to be so wrapped up in the Cavendishers as not to think anything of your own folks. "Now I can tell you what it is. The Lyttonses are a great deal older and better family than all the Cavendishers that ever lived. I don't care if they was governors of the State. "I have heard my grandfather, who was a scholar, say that the Lyttonses was landed gentry in the old country long before the Cavendishers followed of their lord and marster William the Conkerer across tlie channil. And so I don't approve of your sliting of the Lyttonses for them there Cavendishers. Spesherly as you're a Lytton yourself. VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 17 And if we don't respect ourselves and each other, no one an't a going to respect ns. "But what I'm a writing to you for, my dear, now, is this. I think you ought to come to see us, anyhow. You must come, if it's only for two or three days, to see your old grandmother, and all your relations, and to meet Alden, who is here, as I said. I have sent Taters on horseback with a led horse and a side-saddle for you. Come back along of him to-morrow morning. And give my honorable compli- ments to the old Madam and Miss Cavendish. Because, mind you, I'm not a saying as the Cavendishers an't a good, respectabil family; only I do say as they are not so good as the L}i;tonses, and they never was, and never will be; and tliey know it themselves, too. Well, your dear grandma, and your dear aunties and cousins all sends their love to you, with many good wishes. So no more at pres- ent from your affeckshunit uncle, John Lytton." CHAPTER IV THE GHOST SEEN BY "TATERS'* In the meantime, Mithridates, eating beef and bread, and drinking homemade sweet cider in the kitchen, recov- ered some of his composure, though still, with his mouth full of meat and his eyes starting from his head, he per- sisted that he had seen the spirit of his young mistress. And it was a token of his death. "I don't believe one word of it. You're a making of it all up, out'n your own stoopid head ! There, now, ef you're done eatin', you'd better go 'long and put up your bosses," said Aunt Moll, seeing her guest pause in his gastronomic efforts. But "Taters" hadn't done eating, and didn't get done until all the dishes on the kitchen table were cleared and the jug of cider emptied. 18 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH Then, indeed, he gave over and went out to look after his "beasts." At the same hour Mary Grey, locked fast in her room, suffered agonies of terror and anxiety. She, too, had seen a '^ghosf — a ghost of her past life! a ghost that might have come to summon her from her present luxurious home. On her way downstairs to the drawing-room she had been arrested on the head of the middle landing by the sight of a once familiar face and form. She met the distended eyes of this apparition, and saw at once that he had recognized her, as surely as she had recognized him. And in an instant she vanished. She darted into her own room and locked the door, and sank breathless into the nearest chair. z\nd there she sat now, with beating heart and burning head, waiting for what should come next. A rap at the door was the next thing that came. It frightened her, of course — ever3i;hing frightened her now. "^Vllo is that?" she nervously inquired. "Only me, ma'am. The ladies are waiting luncheon for you. Miss Emma sends her compliments, and says will you come down ?" spoke the voice of Sarah, the lady's maid. "Love to Miss Cavendish, and ask her to excuse me. I do not want any luncheon," answered Mary Grey, without opening the door. Then she sank back in her chair with throbbing pulses, waiting for the issue of this crisis. She was really ill with intense anxiety and dread. She grew so weak at last that she lay down upon the sofa. Then came another rap at the door. "Who is that?" she asked again, faintly. "It is I, dear," answered the voice of Emma Cavendish. Mrs. Grey arose trembling, and opened the door. "I was afraid that you were not well. I came up to see," said Emma, kindly, as she entered the room. "I — think I have taken cold. But by keeping my room VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 19 for a few days I hope to be better. A cold always affects the action of my heart, and makes me very nervous," said Mary Grey, in explanation of the tremors for which she could not otherwise account. Then Emma expressed sympathy and sorrow, and begged the pretended invalid to have some tea and cream toast, or some wine whey or chicken broth. Presently Miss Cavendish said: "I am sorry to tell you, that we shall lose Laura Lytton for a few days. Her uncle, Mr. L3^tton, of Lytton Lodge, has sent a messenger for her. She goes to visit her rela- tions there to-morrow morning." "Indeed! a messenger?" exclaimed Mary Grey, pricking up her ears. "Yes, a queer genius, who signalized his entrance by suddenly falling down in the front hall in a spasm of ter- ror, declaring that he had seen the spirit of his young mis- tress on the middle landing of the front stairs." "An optical illusion," answered Mary Grey, in a low, tremulous tone, and with her face carefully kept in the Bhadow. "Of course. And it appears that he was once a servant of that reckless and unlucky Frederick Fanning of White Perch Point, who married my mother's sister. And con- sequently his young mistress must have been that unfor- tunate cousin of mine," said Emma, with a sigh. "Does any one know whatever became of that wretched girl?" inquired Mrs. Grey, in a very low tone. "No; but I gather from the wild talk of the boy that she is supposed to be dead. It was her spirit that he thinks he saw." "Whatever became of her father and mother?" ques- tioned Mary Grey in the same low tone, and still keeping her face in the deep shadow. "I do not know. I heard that they went to California. I have not heard anything of them since. But, my dear, you are talking beyond your strength. Your voice is quite faint, scarcely audible, indeed. Now I advise you to lie 20 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH down and be quiet," said Miss Cavendish, with som* solicitude. And then she kissed Mary Grey, begged her to ring for anything she might require, and then she left the room. And Mary Grey heard no more of the ghost. That cloud passed harmlessly over her head. CHAPTER V A VISIT TO LYTTON LODGE Early the next morning Laura Lytton started out to visit her friends at Lytton Lodge. The woods and fields were clothed with the freshest green; the mountain tops beamed in the most beautiful opal tints and the blue sky was without a cloud. Laura enjo^^ed her drive very much. At Wendover they stopped to rest and water the horses, and then they resumed their journey and went on to Lyt- ton Lodge, where they arrived just about noon. John Lytton was evidently on the lookout for his niece, for as the pony carriage drove up, amid the barking of all the dogs, and the shouting of all the little negroes, he rushed out of the house, throwing up his arms; and he caught Laura and lifted her bodily from her seat, roaring his welcome. And Laura, as she returned his honest, hearty greeting, felt a twinge of self-reproach in remembering with what reluctance she had come. Uncle John took her into the house and set her down in the hall in the midst of all her relations, who had crowded there to welcome her. ^^Lor-lor-lor, John! How dare you ma-ma-make so free AS that with Laura, and she a young 'oman?" exclaimed old Mrs. Lytton, as, in her well-known faded calico gown VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 21 and long-eared muslin cap, she came np and kis?ei;e ? Shall I ring and have your horse put up?" inquired Miss Cavendish. "No, thank you, miss. I must get back to Wendover to-night. Fact is, I'm on the wing again," said the young man, stammering and blushing. "Business of importance calls me to — to Charlottesville, miss. So if you should have a letter or a message to send to — to — Mrs. Grey, I should be happy to take it." Emma Cavendish and Electra Coroni looked at each other in comic surprise. "Why, you must be an amateur postman, Mr. Kyte. Tg fetch and carry letters seems to be your mission on earth, ^ laughed Electra. "So it has been often said of me, miss. And if you or Miss Cavendish have any to send, I should be happy to take them," answered the young man, quite seriously. VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 43 "T have none," said Electra. "Nor I, thank you," added Emma; "but vn^i mev, if you please, give my love to Mrs. Grey, and i: „: we shall feel anxious until we hear of her saft arrival and improved health." "I will do so with much pleasure," said Mr. X^ie, rising to take leave. As soon as the visitor had left them the two young ladies exchanged glances of droll amazement. ''As sure as you live, Emma, the business of importance that takes him to Charlottesville is Mrs. Mary Grey ! He's taken in and done for, poor wretch! I shouldn't wonder a bit if he sold out his share in the fancy dry goods store at Wendover, and invested all his capital in college fees, and entered himself as a student at the universit}^ for the sake of being near his enchantress," said Electra. "Poor boy!" sighed Emma, with genuine pity. And before they could exchange another word the sound of carriage wheels at the gate announced the arrival of Alden and Laura Lytton. CHAPTER X THE FALSE AND THE TEUE LOVE Emma Cavendish, with her cheeks blooming, and eyes beaming mth pleasure, ran out to meet her friends. Alden and Laura Lytton, just admitted by the footmain, stood within the hall. Miss Cavendish welcomed Laura with a kiss, and Alden with a cordial grasp of the hand. "I am so delighted to see you, dear Laura; and you also, Mr. L3i;ton," she said, leading the way into the par- lor. "Well, as I like my kind relatives at Lytton Lodge, I am very glad to get back to you, Emma dear, and that is the 44 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH truth," answered Laura, as she sank into an armchair and began to draw off her gloves. Alden said nothing. He had bowed deepl}^ in response to Miss Cavendish's words of welcome, and now he was thinking what a bright and beautiful creature she was, how full of healthful, joyous life she seemed, and won- dering that he had never noticed all this before. But he had noticed it before. When he first saw Emma Cavendish in her father's house in the city, he had thought her the most heavenly vision of loveliness that had ever beamed upon mortal eyes, and he would have continued to think so, had not the baleful beauty of Mary Grey glided before him, and beguiled his sight and his soul. But Mary Grey was gone with all her magic arts, and the very atmosphere seemed clearer and brighter for her absence. "As soon as you have rested a little, come up to your room, Laura, and lay off your wraps. Tea will be ready by the time we come down again. And, Mr. Lytton, your old attendant, Jerome, will show you to your apartment," said the young hostess, as she arose, with a smile, to con- duct her guest. They left the drawing-room together. And while Laura Lytton was arranging her toilet in the chamber above stairs, Emma Cavendish told her the particulars of Mary Grey's departure, and also of the letter she had received from her long-estranged relative, Mrs. Fanning. They went down to tea, where they were joined by Electra and the Eev. Dr. Jones. Miss Cavendish presented Mr. Lytton to Dr. Jones. And then they sat down to the table. Alden Lytton's eyes and thoughts were naturally enough occupied and interested in Emma Cavendish. He had not exactly fallen in love with her, but he was cer- tainly filled with admiration for the loveliest girl he had ever seen. And he could but draw involuntary compari- VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 45 sons between the fair, frank, bright maiden and the beau- tiful, alluring widow. Both were brilliant, but with this difference; the one with the pure, life-giving light of heaven, and the other with the fatal fire of Tartarus. After tea they went into the drawing-room, where they spent a long evening talking over "old times" — their '^old times" being something less than one year of age. And every hour confirmed Alden Lytton's admiration of Emma Cavendish. The next day Alden Lytton was invited upstairs to the old lady's room and presented to Madam Cavendish, who received him with much cordiality, telling him that his gr ddfather had been a lifelong personal friend of hers, and that she had known his father from his infancy up to f=ie time that he had left the neighborhood to practice law n the city. And after a short interview the ancient gentlewoman and the 3'Oung law student parted, mutually well pleased with each other. The party of young friends remained one week longer at Blue Cliffs, every day deepening and confirming the admiration and respect with which the beauty and the ex- cellence of Emma Cavendish inspired Alden Lytton. But yet he was not in love with her. Every morning was spent by the young people in riding or driving about through the sublime and beautiful moun- tain and valley scenery of the neighborhood. And every evening was passed in fancy work, music, reading or conversation in the drawing-room. And so the pleasant days of the Easter holidays passed away, and the time for study and for work commenced. T.aura and Electra went away from Blue Cliffs on the same day — Laura escorted by her brother Alden, and Electra by her grandfather, the Rev. Dr. Jones. As the party were assembled in the front hall to take leave of their fair young hostess before entering the large traveling carriage that was to take them to the Wendover 46 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH railway station, Emma Cavendish went up to Alden Lyt- ton and placed a letter in his hand, saying, with a frank smile : "As you are going direct to Charlottesville, Mr. Lytton, I will trouble you to take charge of this letter to our mu- tual friend, Mrs. Grey, who, you know, is now staying in that town. Will you do so V^ "Certainly — with great pleasure," stammered Alden in extreme confusion, which he could scarcely conceal, and without the slightest consciousness that he was telling an enormous falsehood, but with full assurance that he should like to oblige Miss Cavendish. "I hope it will not inconvenience you to deliver tb^'s in person, Mr. Lytton," added Emma. "Certainly not. Miss Cavendish," replied Alden, tei.mg unconscious fib the second. "For, you see, I am rather anxious about our frien '. She left in ill health. She is almost a stranger in Chai- lottesville. And — this is the point — I have not heard from her, by letter or otherwise, since she left us ; so I fear she may be too ill to write, and may have no friend near to write for her. This is why I tax your kindness to deliver the letter in person, and find out how she is; and — write and let us know. I am asking a great deal of you, Mr. Lytton," added Emma, with a deprecating smile. "Not at all. It is a very small service that you re- quire. And I hope you know that I should be exceedingly happy to have the opportunity of doing any very great service for you, Miss Cavendish," replied Alden, truth- fully and earnestly. For in itself it was a very small ser- vice that Miss Cavendish had required of him, and he would have liked and even preferred another and a greater, and in fact a different service, "Many thanks," said Miss Cavendish, with a frank smile, as she left the letter in his hands. Then the adieux were all said, and promises of frequent correspondence and future visits exchanged among the young ladies. And the travelers departed, and the young VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 47 hostess re-entered her lonely home and resumed her usual routine of domestic duties. She was anxious upon more than one account. More than a week had passed since the departure of Mary Grey, and yet, as she had told Alden Lytton, she had never heard even of her safe arrival at Charlottesville, and she feared that her protege might be suffering from nervous illness among strangers. More than a week had also passed since she had tele- graphed and written to her Aunt Fanning in New York. But no answer had yet come from that unhappy woman. And she feared that the poor relative whom she wished to succor might have met with some new misfortune. However, Emma had hoped, from day to day, that each morning^s mail might bring her good news from Char- lottesville or New York, or both. And even to-day she waited with impatience for the re- turn of Jerome, who had driven the traveling carriage containing the departing visitors to Wendover, and who might find letters for Blue Cliffs waiting at the post office. As she turned to go downstairs, she glanced through the front hall window and caught a glimpse of the trav- eling carriage, with Jerome perched upon the box, slowly winding its way around the circular avenue that led to the house. CHAPTER XI A SUEPRISE She ran downstairs briskly enough now, and ran out of the front door. "Any letters to-day, Jerome?" she inquired. "No, miss," answered Jerome, shaking his head. "Oh, dear, how depressing," sighed Emma, as she turned to go into the house. 48 VICTOR'S TRIUMPH But a sound arrested her steps — the opening of the car- riage door. She turned and saw Jerome standing before it, and in the act of helping some one to alight from the carriage. Another moment, and a tall, thin, dark-eyed woman, with very white hair, and clad in the deepest widow's weeds, stood before Miss Cavendish. By instinct Emma recognized her aunt. And she felt very much relieved, and very much rejoiced to see her, even while wondering that she could have come unan- nounced either by letter or telegram. As for Jerome, he stood wickedly enjoying his young lady's astonishment, and looking as if he himself had per- formed a very meritorious action. "Miss Emma Cavendish, I presume,^^ said the stranger, a little hestitatingly. "Yes, madam. And 3'ou are my Aunt Fanning, I am sure. And I am very glad to see you," answered Emma Cavendish. And she put her arms around the stranger's neck and kissed her. "Dat's better'n letters, ain't it, Miss Emmer?" inquired Jerome, grinning from ear to ear, and showing a double row of the strongest and whitest ivories, as he proceeded to take from the carriage various packages, boxes and trav- eling bags, and so forth. "Yes, better than letters, Jerome. Follow us into the house with that luggage. Come, dear aunt, let us go in. Lean on my arm. Don't be afraid to lean heavily. I am very strong,^' said Emma; and, drawing the poor lady's emaciated hand through her own arm, she led her into the house. She took her first into the family sitting-room, where there was a cheerful fire burning, which the chilly moun- tain air, in this pring weather, made very acceptable. She placed her in a comfortable, cushioned rocking-chair and proceeded to take off the traveling bonnet and shawl with her own hands, saying : VICTOR'S TRIUMPH 49 "You must get well rested and refreshed here before you go up to your room. You look very tired." "I am very weak, my dear/' answered the lady, in a faint voice. " I see that you are. I am very sorry to see you so feeble, but we will make you stronger here in our exhilarating mountain air. If I had known that you would come by this train I should have gone to the railway station in per- son to meet you," said Emma kindly. Mrs. Fanning turned her great black eyes upon the young lady and stared at her in surprise. "Why, did you not get my letter?" she inquired. "No," said Emma. "I anxiously expected to hear from you from day to day, but heard nothing either by letter or telegram." "That is strange! I wrote to you three days ago that I should be at Wendover this morning, and so, when I found your carriage there, I thought you had sent for me." "It was very fortunate that the carriage was there, and I am very glad of it ; but it was not, in fact, sent to meet you, for, not having received your letter, I did not know that you would arrive to-day. The carriage was sent to take some visitors who had been staying with us, and were going away, to the railway station. It is a wonder Jerome had not explained this to you. He is so talkative," said Emma, smiling. "I never talk to strange servants," gravely replied the lady. "But I will tell you how it happened. I really ar- rived by the earliest train, that got in at Wendover at five o'clock in the morning. There was no carriage from Blue Cliffs waiting for me at the railway station, and in fact no carriage from any place, except the hack from the Rein- deer Hotel. So I got into that, and having previously left word with the station master to send the Blue Cliffs car- riage after me to the Reindeer when it should come, I went on to the hotel to get breakfast, and to lie down and rest. Bat when half the forenoon had passed away with- 50 VICTOR'S TRroMPH out any arrival for me, I began to grow anxious, fearing that some mistake had been made." "I am very sorry you had to suffer this annoyance, im- mediately upon your arrival here, too," said Emma, re- gretfully. "Oh, it did not last long. About noon the landlord, Greenfield, rapped at my door, and told me that the Blue Cliffs carriage had come, and that the ostler was watering the horses while the coachman was taking a glass of beer at the bar." "Jerome had doubtless taken our visitors to the station, and called at the Reindeer to refresh himself and his horses." "Yes, I suppose so. Almost at the same moment that the landlord came to my door to announce the carriage, T heard some one else, under my window, saying to the