Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 416 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

- ™? : 1S: oe —_— — —— — mor oe A's me ee - - ‘a © . ” hk ‘ 7 | bound to another man, if he chose to accept her | he uttered, so startled Medea that she cut him hand. **As soon as I could recover the use of my tongue I asked her for an explanation, and she ave it, though with a reservation I have never facts able to comprehend, ‘** She said that she had promised her father, as he lay on his death-bed, to search the world over, if need be, for Lloyd Pennington, whom, until then, she had believed dead Jong ago. She had sworn to find him, if living, in order to right a great wrong. Sheshowed me an extract from the will he had left, but which was not to | be opened until Lloyd Pennington was discov- ered, or positive proof of his death found, but that only increased my perplexity, and made the muddle deeper.” ‘* Any objections to let a man know what | short as he was lifting his hat in a formal bow, | preparatory to turning away, clinging to his arm with both her hands, ber voice unsteady as | she spoke: | ‘‘Tam glad you came—glad you addressed me, Mr. Rice. As you say, | am a stranger here, and I begin to fear that I have acted very imprudently in my great anxiety to perform | | | the work which my dying father left to me as a | sacred charge. But | had no one to consult, no one to advise me.” | “Then I was forgotten?” with an air of gen- ' tle reproach, | ** Not so,” was the quick, almost eager reply. ‘But there was not time—I had to decide on the instant, or perhaps forever ‘lose the clew to | the mystery which has haunted me, day and ' the strong and pure devotion which underlay Monte Jim, the Black Sheep of Bismarck. reply as requested, and he did so without eva- sion. ‘*T will answer your question as frankly as it is asked, Miss Pennington,” he said, gravely. ‘The woman who lives there is one of the most notorious characters in Bismarck. Her name is Helen Brinston, and you may judge of the reputation she bears, when I tell you that she is nicknamed Hell-and-Brin. stone!” At his grave speech, Medea turned pale asa ghost, and sunk down inher chair, hiding her face in her bands, Will Rice impulsively start- ed toward her, but just then there came the sound of rapid footsteps, and Honest Giles en- tered the room, uttering a little exclamation as he recognized Miss Pennington seated there. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her of the accident which had befallen her cousin, but felta strange and powerful “ae that extract revealed?” asked Monte Jim, care- night, formonths. If you couldonly understand | he checked himself in time, and with a muttered a nore be —if I might tell you all!” apology for his intrusion, he hastened through ah me Alva Pennington gazed keenly into hisface,| ‘‘I do not seek to force your confidence, Miss | to the office, a. -) but it told no tales, and the big blue eyes were | Pennington, but once morc: if I can in any way His sudden entrance, and consequent embar- ee , fixed on the slowly-widening rings of smoke that | be of service to you, it will make me only too | rassment, produced one good effect, in restoring ae floated above his head. happy.” the nerve of the shaken girl. Poe ay ‘“*It made Lloyd Pennington an equal heir | lainly, almost clumsily, the wish to serve She motioned Rice to be seated, then said: al with her to the immense fortune which uncle | her was shaped by the young man, but now, as ‘Tl am deeply obliged to you for your frank SR ig died possessed of, on condition that the two were | before, Medea recognized the deep earnestness, | reply, Mr. Rice, greatly as it bas shocked me, — married to each other within a year from the From the first H time Lloyd Pennington was discovered, if living. | his speech, and impulsively she drew closer to | repugnance toward that—that creature, though | ___ If she refused to marry him, on being asked, all ; him, casting all doubts to the winds, I was unable to explain it, even to myself. And i save a comparatively small sum was to go to| ‘I willtake you at your word, my friend— | yet, had I known all, I must have paid her that +|\ tom him. If he was dead, the entire fortune be- | but not here, in the dark,” with a swift, appre- | visit.” a longed to her.” hensive glance around her, “ {f you will take ‘* Of course ene must have had your reasons, ara ‘The old fellow must surely have been | me back to the hotel, I will tell you all,” and I have full faith that they were good ones,” ) - -eracked !” Wiil Rice drew her arm within his, retaining | said Rice, gravely. ‘‘ But if I had a sister I Pug » *8o I hinted, but Medea would not listen. | her little gloved hand, perhaps unconsciously, | would rather see her cold in her shroud than | . She declared that she would devote the remain- | for the usually cool, steady-nerved railroader | to have her recognized in company with that he” der of her life to searching for the missing man, | was now strangely flustered by that warm, | woman!” ‘ but what she would find him and carry out the | eet contact, Medea flushed hotly, then grew paler than be- » __._ last commands of her parent.” ‘*T will act as your escort, with pleasure, be- | fore. a ** Even to marrying the lost heir?” cause if is not safe for a lady to be abroad at ‘If Lam disgraced, I cannot help it now. I *_ Even to that extremity,” was the moody | this hour of the evening, in a rough town like | would take the same step, under the same cir- reply. ‘‘I told her how madly I loved her, and begged her to marry me. I swore I would help her to find Lloyd, and would willing'y divide the money with him, if living; but sbe would _ the will, and himself declined to carry out that this, but as for the rest—your confiding in me, I mean—do not do so, without you feel you can trust me implicitly.” What Medea might have replied to this curses and shrill screams as of men in mortal cumstances, though I knew it would leave me without a friend on the face of the earth. To any other person, I would decline to justify my- self, but somehow, I would deeply regret leav- caught her hands in his, holding them firmly notlisten. She had taken a solemn oath, and | speech will never be known, for at that mo-|ing you under a false impression, and if you | would keep it, if possible. She held that not | menta wild uproar burst out in the thicker | will consent to listen—” | only did the money belong to him by rights, | portion of the town toward which they were With an impulsive movement, Will Rice drew | but that until he learned the full conditions of | now making their way. Pistol-shots, shouts, | his chair close to the one she occupied, and one provision, she was also in bonds—was not | agony. though gently, as she tried to withdraw them. | + her own mistress!” ‘* Pale and trembling, Medea clung to the stal- | His honest eyes were full of light, and truth — *Romantic—very!” commented Monte Jim, | wart arm of the ex-conductor. itself showed on his brow, and rung in his deep, his countenance growing more animated, a pe- ‘* Only a drunken row, Miss Pennington,” was | manly tones: | euliar look filling his eyes. ‘‘Do you know, | his hasty assurance. ‘‘ There is no danger, as ‘* Miss Pennington, please listen to me, before . '. my dear fellow, I begin to believe that I am | long as we keep from running headlong into the | you speak farther. Your voice tells me your Lloyd Pennington, after all! Since you admit | thick of it. I’m afraid we'll have to wait a lit- | feelings are hurt by what I said, or by my » ¢ereature, why not—” % Jao _ that you stand no show with the charming tle, for the row appears to be between us and the hotel.” blunt manner of speakirg. I am sorry, for I would cut off my right hand, sooner than know- - He paused abruptly as Alva Pennington hissed Jf the whole truth must be told, Will Rice | ingly offend you. ak _ outa bitter curse, striking his tightly-clinched | was not exactly sorry that this disturbance ‘*'You spoke of disgrace, and of losing your p ' fist on the table with a force that caused the oil | had broken forth just when and where it did. | friends. There is one friend whom you cannot <a ft, jump and totter. Though his acquaintance with the young wo- \ lose, even gate oe that imaginary disgrace was » ~~ +“'Take care, Monte Jim—Lloyd Pennington, | man was so brief, measured by days and hours, | terribly real. trust you so wholly, that I | + or whatever your rightful name may be—take | it was quite long enough for him to have fallen | would disbelieve the evidence of my own eye- | are, you!’ he grated, savagely. ‘‘ I’ve given | over head and ears in love with her. Nor was | sight, did it dare tell me you were anything but | _- you fair warning that no man can cross my | this sentiment in the least shaken by the some- | the purest, loveliest, best little woman in the path in this matter, and both of us live! LI love | what peculiar and compromising sitgation in | whole world!” ' Medea Pennington with all my beart and soul! | which he had just discovered her. He could ‘*Mr. Rice!” faltered Medea, half scared by _ ll marry her, or she dies a maiden! If you | have taken oath that there was nothing wrong | his vehemence. -—-- were ten times my brother, I'd kill you before I ‘** You must Jet me say it all, now I have be- i ou rob me of her love!” Keeping in the deep shadows, they watched | gun,” he gently sh a sh still holding her — Come, old fellow, don’t make an ass of your- | and listened, while the row at the Clipper | trembling hands. ‘‘I love you with all- the self!” Shades reached its culmination and gradually | power of my nature. I beg of you to give me “You've got your warning,” sullenly mut- | subsided. A few dark figures flitted past them | a little of yours in return, as the most precious tered the other. in the dark, evidently hastening to see the gift woman can bestow upon man. I love you— ey ‘**fun,” but without observing them, and then, love you! I could not tell how dearly, though perky CHAPTER XVIII. when comparative quiet was again restored, | I bad all eternity in which to repeat the story!” “aie a ey ore they once more moved toward their destina- “You say this, after what you saw to-night?” ae AN HONES ; tion. murmured the young woman, strongly moved To say that Medea Pennington was thorough- ‘*May I ask—was it your cousin who was | by his intense earnestness. pose! y surprised and not a little alarmed when she | with you, back there?” hesitatingly asked Will “Why not? I love you, I wish you to be- felt her arm on and heard those startling ice, come my wife. I donot pretend to say how it words, but imperfectly expresses her emotions. ‘*No,” faltered Medea. may be with others, but with me there can be _, There was an explosive oath of utter disgust, ‘* Excuse me—I didn’t know—” no doubt where there is love—and I love you.” though it came from neither her lips nor those ‘*Mr. Rice,” impulsively, ‘you shall know If he had ken for an hour, with each and of the man who so abruptly made his appear- | all; but not now. Please wait until we reach | every word glowing with the most sublime elo- ance on the scene; and when she turned in-/| the hotel.” quence, Will Rice could not have bettered his _ gstinctively toward the fat little professor, it was He said no more, and a few minutes more | case one whit with the woman who listened. ~ only to catch a fleeting glimpse of his coat-tails | brought them to the hotel, just too late tosee| Her cheeks grew softly flushed, ber eyes as he vanished around the corner of the build- | Honest Giles hastening up the stairs with | beamed softly upon bis honest countenance, and ~ ing, with more haste than grace, bandages and hot water for the wound received | her red-ripe lips trembled as though on the *Mr, Rice—how you startled me!” mur- | by Alva Pennington. point of giving him the answer he so longed— | - mured Medea, hardly realizing the words she| ‘‘ You will come in, Mr. Rice?” asked Medea, | s> breathlessly waited to hear; but only for a ‘i. uttered. as the gentleman released her arm on reaching | moment. f t at Teco e¢oming from the house of that woman—that I - permitted my feelings to get the better of my Aa y a. “T beg your pardon, Miss Pennington,” re- . plied the ex-conductor, for it was indeed he who e abrupt appearance and recognition had A ‘eres in the sudden flight of Professor King | . n* ; < a 4 ‘*T was so startled—so utterly amaze izing you here, at night, alone, and politeness.” “Twas not alone,” hesitated Medea, looking around her, with a slightly embarrassed air, raf nif when Rice quickly broke iu: ‘If Tam in the way, Miss Pennington, you zs have only to hint as much, and I will retire. Only my strong interest in your welfare led me ‘*_ .j tointerfere, knowing that you were a stranger in a strange place, and therefore not to be ex- ted to know the character of this house and that of the notorious woman who lives. bere—” tone and manner, more than the words | | | in her part of the affair. the steps, adding impulsively as he hesitated: ‘* You must! In self-justice 1 must make an ex- gen ar'g of my conduct this night, Of allmen, would not have you go away under a false impression !” ‘here was an earnestness in her low tones that thrilled him through and through, causing his heart to jump with a new-born joy, and the blood to course hotly through his veins, Without a word, he followed her into the par- lor. Medea cast aside her wraps, then turned impulsively t-ward him, her earnest eyes hold- ing his spellbound as she asked: ‘ ‘Mr. Rice, will you please tell me what you meant by the words you uttered when you first recognized me by the door of that house? You spoke as though it would bea disgrace to an honest woman to be seen coming out of it.” It was an embarrassing question, but with those ey"s on his, Will Rice could not refuse to ' ben ber face grew paler, and the light in her eves altered to one of almost stern resolution. “*T thank you for tbe trust you hold in me, Mr. Rice, rt I will never forget it, or your words, And yet I am almost sorry they were ever spoken, for it is wholly beyond my power to give you the answer you wish to hear.” ‘‘Don’t speak too soon, Miss Ponnington,” hastily interrupted Rice, though his eager look began to fade from his honest countenance. “I can wait—I am not fool enough to think you can love me, as yet. But don’t say that I may not hope—that you can never love me when you come to know me better. Give me time to teach you—cive me a little hope.” ‘Tf IT could, believe me, Mr. Rice, I would do so,” was the greve, almost sad response. ‘‘ But that is impossiliie. I am not my own mistress, I am in a measure bound to another—” ‘“* Not pledged?” | i | GOMIEDOOKS.- CO J eB Adin, f° »" v.% - ‘