Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 416 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

swe _ professor hatred for Lloyd ,. ry + ' ] - ' . ot 4 ve oa _-- = 2 o-n- « . —_——a aaa ttt LLL LLL LL LL — ‘¢ Well,” she said, abruptly, after a brief but close scrutiny of ber fair visitor. ‘‘ What do you want of me?” ‘‘T should ask you that,” retorted Medea, her cheeks flushing a little at this sharp address/ ‘‘ You send for me. lam here inanswer to your pressing invitation.” ‘« As you please,” was the listless reply. ‘* You wish to discover the present whereabouts of a wrecious scoundrel who used to call himself loyd Pennington?” Medea bowed coldly. ing to dislike this woman, even more than she did the professor. ‘‘The name is the same as your own; a rela- tive of yours?” ‘* That is not to the point. Your brother said you could and would tell me where I might find Lloyd Pennington. With that understanding I accompanied him to this place. Will you give me that information? I am ready to pay any reasonable price for it, if reliable.” With a short, metallic laugh, the woman cast a lazy glance around the room that spoke louder than words. She did not seem to feel the need of money to any great extent. ‘‘ What are your reasons for seeking Lloyd Pennington?’ ‘To see that justice is done him—to right a eruel wrong, and brush away a shameful cloud which has long overhung his name,” replied Medea, her eyes glowing vividly. The regal brows contracted, and an unpleasant look came into her face, while those dusky eyes began to glow. ‘*T was misinformed, If I had known this, I would not have taken the trouble to send for you,” she said, coldly. ‘* But since I have come in answer to your urgent invitation, you surely will not send me away without the desired and promised informa- tion? “Why not?’—rudely. ‘I am less interested now. I thought you were another of his vic- tims. I fancied you were hunting him down, to seek revenge. Believing this, I was eager to see you and join my forces to yours. I would have assisted you all that lay in my power; but now—” ‘“You refuse to speak, then?’—and Medea rose to her feet. “*Stop! Resume your seat,” imperiously ut- tered the woman, with a wave of her jeweled hand. ‘If you insist, I will tell you all I can. But I warn you that, if you think to do Lloyd Pennington a good service, you will live to re- rret it!” . ‘Ts that a threat, and from you?” coldly de- manded Medea, still standing, her repugnance increasing with the passage of each moment she breathed the same atmosphere with the wo- man. ‘Tt is a warning!” cried the woman, rising to her feet, her great eyes glowing with what seem- ed a sudden fury. ‘A warning which you will do well to heed. Look at me! Am Ia woman to be lightly scorned by a man who won my heart’s jove?—who had first taught me the mean- ing of that word?’ ‘We were talking of revenge not love,” said Medea, coldly returning that fiery gaze—“ or, rather, you were speaking of revenge, I of jus- tice.” ‘‘ You are right, Miss Pennington,” said the woman, her wild passion seeming to suddenly cool beneath that steady gaze. ‘I forget my- self whenever I think of or mention the name of that unhung villain, and the thought of your meeting him face to face, in youth and inno- She was rapidly grow- heartily cence, sent the Java-flood tearing through its barriers. Once more I warn you—nay, I beg of you on: my bended knees to give over your search for this demon in human guise, before his ungoverned passions make of you a wreck like the one you now behold!” and she suited the action to her words, sinking upon her knees, her clas hands raised beseechingly, her eyes moistening with tears. Slowly Medea shook her head in denial. *‘T have sworn to find him, and I will keep my oath! Even though I know him as the demon you say, I would not retreat!” CHAPTER XV. LLOYD PENNINGTON’S CRIME, THE woman abruptly sprung from her hum- ble position, confronting Medea, her eyes glow- ing, her cheeks flushed, her voice altered from one of pleading to that of bitter warning. ‘‘ Tf a demon, say you? He is a devil—blacker than the foul fiend bimseif! He never knew the meaning of the words truth, honor, justice, or mercy. His own pleasure was his ven god, and to gratify the merest caprice he would trample your heart beneath his feet in the mire, and only laugh as he listened to your prayers for pity! Jf a demon, say you? Ah, that little word shows how ignorant you are of the real character of the man you are seeking to find and benefit!” . Even this passionate tirade did not shake Medea’s resolution. The words of the l'ttle fat had prepared her to encounter bitter ennington, and from the out- set she was prepared to accept what she should hear with a considerably-sized grair of salt. ‘‘fam not disputing the truth of what you say, madam,” the maiden utter: d, coldly. ‘* No doubt you have suffered greatly at the hands of Lloyd Pennington; but that fact does not absolve me from my vow. Since it pains you to recall the past as connected with him, why do so? {f am not anxious to hear it. 1t will an- swer all my wishes if you give me the name un- der which Lloyd Pennington is now known— “< you will tell me where and how I may find im.’ close before Medea, her regal head, and gazing intently into the maiden’s face with great eyes which seemed al- most to scorch, so intently did they glow. ‘You are young and lovely—true-hearted and nance from her burning touch. ‘*I can read your nature as easily as though it were a print- ed page. faithful. Tender-hearted, yet strong-nerved and resolute where those you love are concerned, or you fancy the path of duty leads you. and pure—as yet! But when your present pur- when you have felt your and begin to glow beneat his eyes as he pours his sweet but poisonous lies into your eager ears—then what will it be? oper silly heart warm t ang a wrecked heart, silly girl. One more fond soul cast down to hades, warning by me? I, who was once all that I never knew sin, until after [ crossed his path! For the last time I warn yon. Forget your vow; forget that such a person a: Lloyd Pen- nington ever lived. Go back to your home, and Jive out the peaceful, contented existence Hea- ven surely intended for one like you.” Medea freed her arm and drew back a trifle her brows contracting, her eyes filled witha still deeper determination. before.” A hard, bitter laugh parted those voluptuous lips, and the woman flung herself upon the couch once more, ‘*Since you are so bent on self-destruction, why should [ trouble myself further in your of one victim, it would be ample reward. I will! Listen, Miss Pennington, while 1 tell you my story. It will enable you to judge better the nature of the demon you have sworn to find.” ‘*T do not ask this—I would rather not hear os hurriedly interposed Medea, shrinking a ittle. ** And why?” maiden boldly confronted the strange woman, her words clear and pointed: Pennington, you are not capable of doing bim simple justice. You might try to speak nothing save the truth, but your hatred would cause you to exaggerate his faults.” A. hard, scornful laugh cut the speech short. would be on the side of mercy, for mortal tongue could not picture the utter depravity of that demon!” ‘Then why make the attempt? It can do no ood, so far as shaking my determination is concerned, you say, I would still seek him out in fulfill- ment of my vow. Tell me his name—tell me where to find him—and I will trouble you no more.” ‘*You must listen. I must tell all, now, or suffocate! Then if you still wish to find Lloyd Pennington, I will tell you the name by which he is now known, and where to find him.” “Te nothing else will content you, go on. I listen,” said Medea, coldly, sinking into a chair and folding her hands on her lap, pale and com- posed, but watching the woman closely. The woman turned his head so that the light fell less fully upon her face, then, with half- closed eyes, and in a low, tremulous tone, she began her recital: “Tt was nearly ten years ago that I first met the man who called himself Lloyd Pennington. Just where, does not matter now. If you care for more minute details, after I am through, you shall have them. ‘** There were only us four in the family ; father, mother, brother g and myself, e@ were happy and contented. for we had a beautiful home and wealth sufficient to gratify our most extravagant desires, and nota family in the State ranked higher in popular estimation. it would be mere affectation to deny that, when the ruivs are before you, still passable, despite all that J have undergone.” She paased and her eyes opened a little as ‘ a rs : Lovely as an angel, and as true and | Innocent | have pictured you. I, who never knew sorrow, | v ' told me at the time, though after events proved = him an infamous liar in this respect as inallh ‘*T was more than ordinarily beautiful, then; | With a sweeping stride, the woman paused | sping her wrist, bending | pure!” she murmured, heedless for the time be- | ing of the manner in which Medea shrunk away | from her, shuddering with a strange repug- | they turned toward Medea, as though for a confirmation of her words, but the maiden sim- ply bowed slightly. ‘*T do not say it in boasting. I cared little for beauty, then, and still less for admiration, I was a home-body, happy in our pleasant little circle, and I seldom went out into society. I had an aim in life, though I kept it close secret from all. Iwas studying to prepare myself for the stage, although I knew that my relatives would never give their consent to my becoming an actress, dearly as they loved me, great as was their indulgence. ‘‘Tt was then that Lloyd Pennington came. My parents did not greatly fancy bim, but al- most at the outset he surprised my precious se- cret, and by pretending to enter fully into my wild dreams, by carefully nourishing them, he quickly won my entire confidence, then my love, which until then had slumbered so soundly that I never dreamed how intensely passionate my. nature really was—how intense my capacity for adoration. ‘‘The serpent charmed never so wisely. He played his part so cunningly that I neveronce _ suspected the truth until it was forever too late, pose is fulfilled—when you have met that mer-— ciless demon face to face—when you have lis- | tened to his soft, deep tones, so full of music— | his coming. | | ‘‘Ruin and wreck, peor fool! A ruined life | be taken to keep us apart if our intimacy | ‘** Oh, child! why will you not listen and take | ee ; | behalf? I am a fool, and yet—if I could rob him | Nothing milder can approach m } | The momentary shrinkage was gone, and the ; ; ' ' ' “Tf you are so terribly bitter against Lloyd | a father’s curse on the head of an ungrate’ i | ‘*In plain words, I would lie? If so, girl, it ; hairs of my father—curses for me, since now . ' | ‘The shock was so terrible, that I must bave _ : : | | cious g ing forward to the same goal, and I believed . that this similarity of purpose, this secret longing for fame, the real tie which connected us and made me look and long so bungrily for ‘‘ For he lied to me, even at that early stage be glorious light of | of the game. He pretended that it wasthis pas- _ is for the drama that made him disliked = relatives, and that stern measures would — sion of by m . * * _be- came so much as suspected, lest his wild visions should be communicated to me. I believed him; Te i; ee oe a en a ae * * . _Ithought him an enthusiast, like Aa ee look- . - » i J ae — > -e _-— * ae e.. . ~ ‘ and then, urged by him, I took my second step on the dark road to destructicn. ‘‘He introduced me to a ledy—his sister, he others. At her house we met often tostudy the old masters of gery I fancied; inreality for = * him to weave, and meshes of love. ‘‘ His pretended sister played her part well, and vvhen the scales partially dropped from my — ifficult matter fer them to ‘When I have kept my oath to the dead—not | win my consent to marry bim, the one man of : eyes, it was not a all men in my estimation. to be entangled in, the 2 # ' ?.3 -” a Stes se | Po) * sin 4 . #. 7 . ‘‘The ceremony was strictly private, but it Mg was a le care that there should be no omis- sions, no flaws in that! ¢ 1 one-—Lloyd Pennington took pre-— * . * - ‘For one short week I Cwelt in Heaven! — a rapture, and even those words are too tame—far too tame to shadow forth my exquisite bliss! ya “It was only i when the light Oe b> o make my punishment creater 4 cos ning-streke fell and awakened me from my dream-life in fool’s paradise! = — ‘* Unknown to me, Lloyd Pennin to my father, and sent him a copy o A4 | an answer might be directed, but no other clew ~ to our place of hiding. The answer promptly, and brought with it my awaking from that fond dream. For it simply con . Cy, j . Dee. . on wrote — our mar- | riage-certificate, giving him an address to which ~ . % came ,* f. ~ os — “We were together when the letter arrived, and I never suspected aught until a frightful ~ storm of curses burst from the lips of m hus- a band—curses upon his own folly, upon the gray — “% =” J * was a beggar, instead of the heiress he had been led to believe me! ‘* That wes my bee pipamae and I thought life ‘. ] SC Ne could contain nothing so bitter, so. heart-crushing. Silly fool! the time was near — at a¢ fainted, for the next I can remember is finding — him kneeling beside me, pleading for forgive-— ness in the tender, passionate tones I knew so Were he twice the miracle of evil | at hand when I learned to look back upon that es no more than a single drop in the ocean of well and loved so dearly. I wasa woman, and ~ I granted the pardon he prayed fer. I allowec a, - him to soothe niy wounded feelings, to explain — be away his mad anger—he was my husband, an I loved him with all my soul! “7 ae ‘‘ He was all remorse, you see. His r had been all for me, none for bimself. The loss. of my fortune affected “¥ only as it concernec my future comfort. Sohe said, and so I wa: but too anxious to believe. ‘ While in hispresence, I did not miss my rel- atives and their lcve so very much. When ie was away, then the tears came in torrents and _ I fully realized the frightful loss I had suffered. Not the money. I gave that barely a thought, for I believed my husband was rich enough tc * keep the grisly wolf from our door. Then, — too, I had faith that time would soften the — hearts of my parents, and bring us together _ once more. ers “That day never came, though, in se te. tried to bring about a reconciliation. I wrote my hushand, bow happy he made my life, ox which bung but the one cloud-sthe alienati of my kindred. * "eomicbooks. cs . «) al > ) oe - as - oe 4 cf) ‘ “a ) C' \ \ \ ? eT WA Y ; to father, telling him how true and noble was — é * + :