Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 4 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

| ' | She had left her husband to with her eyes closed and her hands clasped over her bosom, the sorrow of the orphan struggling @ re-es- 6 | a ——- - —_—— ae me 2 ee riding-habit. Going to the edge of the rocky ground, she spread out the skirt and ie ae upon it, being | ho careful that her foot should press the tes | evenly, Beyond this she laid the jacket, an stepped upon that. Turning, she took u skirt and examined the ground, to see i weight had made any mark. With a glad cr fal LP : and jacket, she retraced spot of rocky ground, ~Following the rocky point at right angles with the trail until she came to its border, she repeated the process by which she had x she saw the success of her plan. By this care- } | preetienrss a ee Cee guide, as this seemed the only hope. the | was anhour high, when they came upon a trail her | which Burly Ben pronounced a fresh one. ork Library. f velvet jacket which had formed part of her | others, they found her thus, wrapped in deep, i | yet troubled slumber. It was decided -to keep on westward, in the of overtaking the party with Blanche: ith a heavy heart the father srg the e sun ‘“Them lopin’ scallawags have been by here | since the dew fell,” said he; “‘an’ as they hain’t | rocess, alternately stepping upon the skirt | no call to go galavantin’ round in the night it, until she reached a distance of several rods. | chances.” She now donned dress and shoes, and set out on a course diagonal to the trail she had been | bank. following, keeping er direction by the moon | we and stars, whic though the. foliage.. But scarcely an hour had passed, when clouds so low. that they near] swept the tree-tops, obscured the sky. Thoug there was still light enough for her to see to ursue her way, the cloud-pall seemed equally umifious at points, and she could form no jadgment as to the position of her guide the moon. Still she struggled on. , and revealed here and there | this very p ‘*Ben, I must accompany you, *“T can’t bear the “4 so’s not er way to the first | time, 0’ course it’s been since davbreak. Now T | propose that. you, squire, an’ Hal an’ the gal am in the bush, while I go on a little scout. e’ve got to git a squint at every party o’ reds aimed that we fall in with, to lose * said Mr. Bur- e idea of remaining in- active, when my child may be in the hands of , forall we know. Hal can stay rotect Miss Edwards; With his wound, he | | needs all the rest he can get.” This was agreed’ to; and Jeaving any TT Hal and | Mary in adense clump of undergrowth, the two | set out, Left alone with Hal; Mary sat with a look of | stony immobility on her countenance, which it | had worn ever since she ha How long she continued thus she knew not; | Hal had observed it with no ‘i been awakened. ttle misgiving, at | straw for her affections. | bore?—accusation, vindication. ? oe ‘Vol. I, Se bore I have no ob- ent to the first process, since there scems to no escape, but spare me the second. But no; pardon my forgetfulness; henceforth my touch isto be loathsome ‘to you. Ah, well, I don’t know but we’ll get on nicely, after all.” She gazed at him now with an awful sinkin sensation—a chilling dread. Had she wronge him again? Could he explain it all? He would never forgive her. With scalding tears welling into her eyes, and one by one burning their fiery course down her cheeks, she waited. “ Burly Ben told yot that Miss Burbank awd mysel€ were batrothed since our childhood, did he not?” ) | “é es. 99 2 Did it occur to you that the principal par- ties could have had very little to do with such a contract, at so tender an age? that, having come to years of discretion, one or both of the parties might feél a disinclination to ratify the engagement entered into so fondly by their be- loved parents?” “ But he said that you were to be married by Christmas.” ‘‘Humph! What easier than for a rarrulous old gossip to be mistaken in such matters? Miss Burbank cares nothing for me. I admire her beauty and accomplishments, without caring a My respected sire but after hours of weary toil, the sky was-again | a loss to determine its cause. He now drew to made the inheritance of his accumulations con- clear. Suddenly she stopped with a tremulous cry: Inthe center of a patch of moonlight lay’ a footprint, as if to challenge her scrutiny. With asiaking heart she placed her foot in it.- It fitted exactly: While the moon was hidden from si she had nothing to 6 her, she had f | | | le ht and | We her side, and laying his hand on her shoulder, | tion upon my remaining said: ‘ loo ‘Mary, k so?” what has come over you? Why do you | was not betrothed to another before that The girl redoiled from his’ touch with a low | and turning, luoked him full in the face. Do not touch me!” she said, with a shudder. | that I endured to forego even your charming s0- en into | ‘* There was a'time when the weight of your ciety, in consideration of the few thousands that fatal snare of the lost traveler—she had | hand was the déarest sensation of which I’ was gone in a circle! She could form no idea as to the extent of that circle; she could not even judge whether she had made only one circuit or more. She only knew that she was crossing her own trail | qtiéred his sudden passion, and said, with a susceptible. A Henceforward contact with you can only be loathsome to me!” | a bachelor until fiss Burbank’s twentieth birthday, in case she time, and aprcpenting myself as a candidate for her hand. The lady’s birthday falls in the next month. Do not take it as uncomplimentary which were to keep us in bread and butter dur- ing the coming years of our felicity.” ‘This is not the story that you told me when é flush mounted to his brow, and a | you insisted on our mairiage being kept secret,” leamed in his eye; but he con- | slumbrous fire at'some point; and that meant a waste of all snéer: the time which had intervened since she was last on the spot. Perhaps, after all her struggle, not more than two or t her and her worse than deadly foes. At the thought, weary as she was, she almost started into a run. ““S Mother! mother!” she whispered aloud, in the awful‘agony of that moment, ‘‘ may never see you again—never, never!” ’ “Tears 'of utter weariness and discouragement stood in her eyes, and her lip quivered like the lip of a grieved child. But her brave heart never faltered. She had_ no thought of giving | could y } Burbank, and you are ruined.” on, un- up‘the struggle. © On she toiléd—on, on, til ‘beneath her one swam and knees tottered As she passed a thicket she was electrified by a deep, ee sound’ which issued from i midst. She did not stop to ask*herself what it was, but darted away like a’ bushes; they parted, giving exit to a dark ob- ject; then there was the regular fall of feet in pursuit. ‘The way wasrocky, but shé was all unconscious of the pain in her bruised feet. Suddenly she slip and: fell, | Her ‘pursuer was comin nearer—nearer |! 3 She tried to rise; but her foo was wedged firmly in the rock. Still that ‘hor- rible, shuffling tread approached—nearer, near- er, until a dark form appeared to view: and she _ knew’that it was an animal of some sort. Her men BAe pictured all the horror of the mo- ment when he should be upon her. Ske felt his hot breath on her ‘cheek. She’ felt his teeth lacerating her flesh... With the terror of immi- nent and cruel death upon her, she tore her foot fromthe shoe, and springing up, she darted a a oe ed it not. Only an instant did the ani- mal stop to snuff the shoe, and then came on at a quickened gallop. He gained upon her—was at her very heels! With a cry she leaped aside, blindly, with only the physical instinct of self- preservation, which struggles till the last in- stant, and burst through a tangled co pace Then she was conscious of a slipping, 4 d clutching inthe air—a shock—oblivion! psn 3 descent—a loosening of stones and sand— a CHAPTER VIII. - WRINGING A WOMAN’S HEART. “ MoTrHEer! sent me with you Mary Edwards lay with her face buried in the turf, and her hot tears falling fast upon it. with the great joy that sprune from tablishment of Sev asenes bobo tes her and-him. Too restless to continue alone, she had o ht and the ous old fellow hafi told her all about he and her relations with Hal. And now Burly Ben, after he had relieved Hal, the deceived wife lay prone on the ground, writhing in anguish. Te the breaking of the dawn awoke the a - —+ stones bruised her tender feet; but — would to God they had go and lie down | ' | | | Se Ne SS _.. Se —— ee ee **T con . miles lay between | ina cer a Wye ee this morning you 0. on yout hig 1-tragedy airs | vehemence, ‘* I would not have believed that a | fiend, not to say a man, could be duplicity as as you have pra peetn eget as usual, but even more inarily enigmatical. Com than or ourself,” ‘Your effrontery cannot avail you. rsley, fess that I am at a loss to account for | our’ fickleness of mind. Last night you were | ation when you honored me with your prefer- ave got | ence, it did ty of such cticed !” cried the girl, with sudden Pray, explain | How | ou hope it would? One word from me | ie that interesting 8s said the girl, suspiciously. “Further explanation?’ he asked, arching his' brows contemptuously. ‘‘ You have yourself to thank that it is not. As deep as was. my infatu- not blind me ‘to a slight foible in rour character, commonly known as jealousy. had every reason to fear that, if you suspected the Seer of another lady in the field, you would be shy about entering into competition with her for my affections; and I think my ex- Seok et of the last twelve hours goes far to con- rm the correctness of my judgment. Rather than lose your precious self, 1 fear that I strained the moral code on more occasions than one, riod of my life. When urbank reaches the stipulated age, if we ‘And you have not spoken that terrible succeed in Dig ber | her from the Indians, I shall word?” **'You know that Ihave said nothing to him.” “You me. Aft fawn. The | no makin sound was repeated; there was a swaying of the | that awf promise to be almost as reserved with | half su: east you are so oracular that ‘there is | his teeth with rage—‘she has already anything of what you say. When | her affections elsewhere, and of course will de- mine is sprung, I shan’t know which | way to jump. 2) Harry Hearsley: while you slept last night, | I was in conversation wi Burl Ben.” **Ah! nice company.” ** And he told me everything!” ** Indeed?” And he yawned in her face. the man you call ‘* Excuse me,” he said, putting his hand before his mouth; “but you know my rest was broken.” She gazed at him in wonder. She had b ope her lips and brand him as a villain of the deepest dye; yet he sat there without the move- | ment of a muscle. ** Harr Bearsley,” she cried, with clenched | hands and flashing eyes, ‘‘do you su for an | instant. that I will sit quietly an co Do you suppose that iniquity low you marry Miss Bur help me! I do not know that you are!” ithout a chan “TT have no d ‘Just w , | show that wives are a commodity, a little of | wee goes 8 eran ** But Burly Ben paged to Miss Burbank—that er by Christmas.” ; I say. t “Burly Ben has been te tale.”’ rifle, quie His perfect. "coolness staggered her. What if | there was some mistake, after all? And Ben had spoken with of feature, he said: to marry Miss Burbank. The wife whom I have is a legion in Gag goat I have my hands full already = t do you mean?” My experience herself. see this | I will al- , when I do not know but what you are my husband? Heaven wa ” tofd me thit you were en- ou were to marry Rin Sneed She stopped and looked at him steadily. Hoe f ! sat eee | a blood-stain from the stock of his the bandage which bound his temples! He | without a trace of nervousness. tiveness. He h ovens will do it. | Ao let me rest.” s to. offer her my hand in marriage, in conformity with the conditions of the will. As I more than ct,”—and the speaker inwardly ground bestowed cline the honor, etc. ‘I shall then do you the tae justice of acknowledging you before the wor ; Or rather marry you over again, this time openly. I have no doubt that our honey- moon will be a glorious one. If you are satis- fied now, you know the adage—‘Silence is golden.’ ” ‘He leaned ee the tree which grew out of the ‘midst ‘of their retreat, and closed his eyes, as if in weariness. “Charley!” breathed the girl, addressing him ut to | with the name by which she had known him ip the happy days of their sens Nip and during that brief trance of stolen delights, when she had called him “husband,” and felt that not one in all their little world knew of the golden tie that bound them; and with the name came all the old tenderness—‘‘ Charley !” He did not open his eyes. *T know what you would say,” he replied. ‘But just think, be will have all our lives to say it in. Corroborate my story, p.ease, by such information as you can get from Mr, Bur- bank without betraying our secret. A little ou are quite a detective. “Forgive me!” she wailed. ‘*T have nothing to forgive. You are mere] looking after/ your own interests. That's busi- ness. Go on with the investigation. Only you’ve pumped me dry. Aren’t you satisfied with that?” } She did not speak to him again. She only sat m, feeling as one who had Wwill- and gazed at fully shattered the vase which contained the - Oh, if she could but oan ut with her own hand she had raised up the bar- rier between them, and now she must abide her perfume of her life, et, | work. no motive for deceiving her. The more she thought, the more bewildering became the blém. ‘Will you explain yourself?” she asked, ina voice, falteri ** He looked up at her with a sudden flash in his eyes. It was of triumph; but before she de- iven place to a sneer. 1 story over again?” he tected it, it had “Must it be aaked, A EE EO EE ee ee eee te he 6 Ain’t it getting to be a great deal ofa | cmc a le te a tae ~~ 4 So she was found by Mr. Burbank on his re- turn. She was in a fever of suppressed excite- ment; but the unutterable woe in her face won himi for a moment even from the all-engrossing * thought which filled his mind and heart; an before he spoke to Hal, he murmured to himself: ** Poor child, how she has suffereel!” Then he said in a whisper: 66 “eg , God be praised, we have found her.” “ Not herself, Mg iG 200ks (E(@) acom c ,