Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 114 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

4 iW lt i A A Ag a oe ow PS eS 18 conjectures miner who had “ broke loose,” came to her on the night wind. These tokens «f man alone marred the awe-inspiring vastness of mountain and sky. Eleven o’clock—twelve o’clocs! The girl walked: about incessan'iy, wringing her ha ds and hay with fear. A thousand terrible austed her distraught brain. In that wild country death by violence was a ae of daily occurrence, only borrowing inter- est from the standing of the man killed. Had those terrible men— She could not finish tho question. ; At last there came a footfall. Sho rushed out of the house, which she had entered scarcely a moment before. Then, for the first time in her life, she was appalled by the darkness, S10 cou 'd not see the person a pean, Her un- strung nerves thrilled with asense of personal ear. “Will! Will!” she called shrilly, like a fright- ened child. ** Lillie, it is I,’ came the assurance of the loved voice. Then, with a cry that thrilled through and through bim, she sprung forward, precipilating herself into his arms and hiding her facé in: bis breast, there to sob hysterically and cling to him trembling, a creature formed for love’and pro- tection—than which, what could appeal more directly to his strong, chivalrons nature? . His arms closéd about her. » He was conscious of a wild defiance of earth and heaven to snatch her from him. It was a moment fraught with danger. Burning words of passion crowded to his lips with the mad impetuosity of ravenous wolves. Once they passed that barrier, they could never be recalled. Knowing what he khew, those words would be a more deadly wound, a more treacherous assault, than if he were to draw the bowie-knife from: his belt and bury it to the hilt in her trusting bosom! His fancy pictured her face—its wondering incredulity, its sorrowing, questioning reproacn, when she should come to know the circum stances under which he had made the avowal of bis love. Heshrunk shudderingly from the spec- hui It sobered him as nothing else could have one, With a mighty effort he attuned his voice to such tenderness as he had a right to show her, and said:— ‘*My little darling! Has she worried over brother Will’s absence?” The words almost choked him. His soul rose in riotous rebellion. He was not her brother! He could not endure even this conventional use of the term. Her reply showed:that, if in the early part of the evening her virgin breast had been startled by the springing of a new vague conscious- ness, the anxieties of the later hours had again vailed it, at least for the time. She was his little sister Lillie, as she said:— “Ob, where have you been? How could you leave meso? I have nearly died of fright. Oh! you are cruel—eruel!” The man read the significance of that almost petulant cry, and with a strange mingling of gratitude and pain, said to his heart:— + es ac “an was og ah at least, wi re is agony. at lightens m load by ogre than half.” . 4 And yet he could almost have wished that she had loved him—a little, only a little! other than as a brother! He stroked her hair with a fond, reverent touch, soothing her gently, but evading an ex- planation, until she importuned him directly. ‘Where have you been all this time?” she asked, raising to his face with an injured air her eyes yet tear-wet, like flowers with the dew upon them. A gentle oer came into his face and voice, as he replied:— ‘‘] have cares, dear, which I cannot share with you; but, believe me, I would not heed- lessly cause you anxiety.” Quick remorse sprung up in her gentle heart. ‘Oh, I know!” she cried, throwing her arms about him. ‘Forgive me; I have pained you.” Then a jealous impatience of this mysterious something which had ever stood between them seized her, and acting on the impulse, she ap- realed to him at once. ‘Bat, Will, tell me! Why have you always kept it from me? Are you not sure of my love? Dowt you want my sympathy? I have heard all about your meeting with—with—the man they call the Frisco Sharp. There was a lady here, just after you went away. She came partly to thank you, and partly to make my ac- quaintance, as the only other woman in the camp, she said; and told me all about it. Oh, Will! you can’t know how it has pained me to see you suffer and be unable to console you—not to dare to say a word for fear of wounding you ——to know that there is something always be- tween us, shutting me out from full sympathy with you! Don’t think that I am a child any longer. Tell me all about it, wont you—won't you, Will? They were in the house now. The man ‘was seated aud the girl standing beside his chair, At ‘her earnesti appeal he broke down completely @ad botve hig head on the table. What she said, all unconsciously, went home to him with such terrible force, She was no longer a child. There was a heaven of delight aud a hell of pain in the reflec- tion. And, ah! how fatal was that something, which, she said, standing between them, caused her pain! Would it produce a keener pain if she knew?” The man was shaken with anguish that he could not subdue. The girl was terrified. She had never seen him give way like this. She flung her arms about his neck. She tried to raise his head upon her bosom. And her piteous quaveriug vwice wailed: ‘Wili! Will! Oh! whathaveI done? Don’t ive way so! You frighten me! Oh, Will! Vill! Will!” She sunk upon her knees at his side and hid her face iu her hands, distracted with pain and fear. The man mastered himself with a superhuman effort. The sudden calm that his will imposed showed his great strength, *“Hush!” he said, lifting her up. ‘I have been miserably weak to give way like this in your presence. It is over now. See—I am com posed,” “Yes, yes,” she said, ga ul into his face through her tears; ‘* but, oh, Will! your calm- ness is almost as terrible as youremotion! Iam half afraid of you, you look so strangely !” aon she clung to him very like a frightened child. ‘*There! there! dear,” he said. ‘Trust me to tell you all that it is wise for you to know. It would be cruel to cloud vour young life with shadows out of mine. And now yvu must calm yourself and go to rest.” : She obeyed him, but plainly with an aching eart. Carleton sought his own room, not to sleep, but to renew the battle; and through the silent watches of the night be asked himself the ques- tion: * Where will it end?" For two days he hovered near his darling. Then, as there was no open demonstration of hostility from her enemy, he began to think less of personal danger to her and more of the false position in which she stood. This drove him him to melancholy meditation in the mountain solitudes. Ah! had he tut known the fatal opportunity he was thus giving for a wrong of which he never dreamed. But danger threatened him as well; for, while he wandered on the brink of a precipice, be de- tected a slight sound, and turned just in time to avoid a treacherous knife-thrust from one of two men who threw themselves upon him and bore him tothe ground. Taken unawares, he was struggling for his life against two determined focs! If he fell, who would protect his darling? That thought nerved his arm! CHAPTER XXvV. WOMAN TO WOMAN. THAN that of Jules St. Auburn, never was the Lreast of man perturbed by a fiercer battle of conflicting emotions. After that mad’ mo- ment when the warm kisses of the'temptress drove every vther thought, al] ruth'and all con- science, from his min’, he stood face to face with the enormity of the deed her jealous malice had asked of bim. Meanwhile, atter two days of torturing sus- pense, a woman’s impatience could endure no more, end Bella Seaford resolved to seek the Frisco Sharp and learn the reason of his inac- tivity. As she expected, she found him skulking in the neighborhood of Lilian’s home. Another he might easily have eluded; but knowing that she came in quest of him, he dis- covered himself. She was amazed at the change in him that those two dayshad made. Hewas haggard and wild-eyed. His voice sounded sepulchral, as he said :— ‘*'You see how congenial a task you have iven me, The devil of my nature is not so lly developed as you may have thought. But what with the liquor I have drank and the thoughts I have cultivated during these two days and nights of sleepless: conflict, I am making rapid strides in the direction of utter ruthlessness, utter infamy?!” ‘*Bah! Do you spend your time in moral- izing? What have you done in these two days?’ ‘** Nothing!” ** Nothing” ** Utterly nothing!” “Do you intend to do anything?” “*T intend. to fulfill my engagement to the tetera lack ni far?” ‘“Have you lacked opportu so far ** Not altogether. Sy = ‘*Then, what are you waiting for?” ‘*T am not yet quite brutalized, you see; I am yet haunte? by the vision of this woman facing the ie Sa for me, a stranger.” “Jules St. Auburn, you are trifling with me!” -** You will not say so to-morrow.” “To-morrow @” The Gentleman trom Pike. | ‘| shall have damned myself to all eternity by that time!” ‘*'You have resolved to act—” “To-night.” ** Without fail?’ ‘Unless you relent in your purpose.” A wave cf scorn and bitter hatred swept over the woman’s face, The man smiled cynically. “IT will releut—to morrow !” she said, signifi- cantly. ‘*Mcanwhile, I bave heard enough for to-day. I can now sive on anticipation! You have provided me with the focd 1 crave; I will return the compliment to-morrow !” She bent a fascinating smile upon him, In an in tant he was ather feet. Sbeextend- ed both her hands. He clasped them and pressed them to his face and lips, while bis whole form trembled. A moment atterward she was gone, Now a wild elation took possession of her, ** To-morrow !—to-morrow |—to-morrow!” she er repeating. ‘ben she was seized with a desire to see. her victim and gloat over her by anticipation. A little reconnoissanee showed that Lillie was alone in her home. Buta wistful sadness now see..ed to brood over her. No more the tripping step, the blithesome voice raised in song. She was wondering at the change that had come over her guardian. Seeing Mrs. Seaford approaching, she ran to meet her, with a cordial smile and both hands extended in welcome. ‘*Ob, Mrs. Seaford!” she cried, “‘I’m so glad ou’ve come! Do you know? since your val have just pi to realize the lonesomeness of Leing the only woman in camp.” ** So! he bas said nothing to her,” mused the woman. “ Well, Pi] repair this omission! ‘‘Good-morning,” she said, not s eming to notice Lillie’s hands. ‘‘I do not see Mr. Carle- ton at the works, or here, at home.” ‘*No,” replied Lillie, somewhat chilled. He has been very busy for two or three days. But won t you come in, and Jet me take your things? “Thank you, no. I have but a word to say,” was the icy reply. ‘‘ Miss Amberleigh, what do you know ot Mr. Carleton?” “What do I know of him?” repeated Lillie, in bewilderment, ‘Yes. What do you know of him?” There was evidently war in this short, sharp, crisp catechism. It was woman to woman. Though in most cases absurdly apprehensive of masculine wrath, the gentle creatures seldom stand very much in awe of each other. Lilian bridled instantly, at the first intimation of hos- tility toward her guardian, . ‘* Madam,” she said, with a hauteur strangely in contrast with her usual gentleness, ‘I do not understand you!” . ‘I will be more explicit, then, Do you know that Mr. Carleton is a married man?’ ‘“A married man?” repeated poor’ Lillie, breathlessly. She had never dreamed of such a thing. _— he has basely abandoned his lawful Wile ‘* Madam!” “Do not ‘Madam’ me,’ Wait until I get through. If he has deceived you in this matter you have no longer any excuse for being blind to the truth: for J am that wife !” ** You his wife? I don’t believe you!” cried Lillie, stoutly. But the tact was, she did believe; end her heart sunk like lead. Here was the secret of her guardian’s only too apparent distress, ‘You wil) have convincing evidence of the fact before many hours,” said Seaford. ‘“‘If it is true,” pursued Lillie, “‘] have‘no doubt you gave him ample cause for separating from you.” **We will waive that for a moment, if you lease, since your opinion, in your ignorance of acts, can have no basis save prejudice,” said Mrs. Seaford, coolly, “‘and come to the consid- erstion of your own position.” “ My position, madam?” ‘‘ Exactly—a girl of your years the sole fe- male inmate of a gentleman’s home, unsanc- tioned by even the shadow of relationship,” Lillie shrunk back as if stung by this cruel in- sinuation. ‘Have you any idea in what estimation you are held in this mining camp?” pursued rs. Seaford, with a woman’s unsparing malice. Lillie was breathless. She could but gaze with distended eyes, ““The morals of this rude community are very lax. Besides, fear of Mr. Carleton’s re- sentment would deter these men from showing ou any open disrespect. But there are certain aws Of propriety that hold good the world over; and I can assure you that the general sentiment is that, if you are not Mr. Carleton’s wife, you ought to bef” Lillie shivered. ‘* Put it to a vote, and the unanimous’ opinion of this or any other weeraartedt deen be that no woman who had not lost all self-respect, all shame, could bold the position you now do.” Now the tortured girl rallied. = ‘Stop! she cried. “You are stating whet ls cS (EON ANICELOCIC) (E(0)