Beadle's Dime Library No. 42 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

ee a ‘“‘ Yes, three years ago the bronze of the sun was not upon my cheeks; the piney wind of the sierras had not roughened my brow. Wielding the pick in the mountain gulches and clinging to the back of a half-tamed mustang on the prairie, have toughened the weak sinews and given a more manly vigor to the form of the once drunken lawyer.” Almost breathless, Coralie sprung from her chair. ‘‘Oh! my heart did not deceive me!” she cried, in joy. ‘‘“The moment I saw your face it whispered the truth to me. Oh, how blind I have been not to have recognized you at once, Royal!” And with a glance full of love she extended her hands to him. ‘‘ My own dear girl!” he cried, rising to his feet. Another moment she was in his arms, folded to his heart. She wound her arms around him as the clinging vine winds around the oak. Her heart was too full for words. ‘“‘T euessed that it was you the moment you entered the room,” he said; ‘‘but you have changed greatly in three years. Who could have expected to find Sue, the Orange Girl, in the famous actress, Coralie York?” “T knew that you were not dead,” she murmured; “ I knew that some day you would return to me.” ‘‘And soI have, and now, Sue, my own dear girl, will you give me that paper?” “« Yes,” she said. ‘“‘T knew that I could persuade you,” he said, laughing. She hid her blushing face on his breast. ‘By the way, Sue, how about the promise that you gave me three years ago? Does it still hold good?” “Do you wish it so?” she asked, lowly. ‘* Do you doubt it?” he cried, quickly. ac No.” ‘“ Ah, Sue, ’'ve dreamed of this moment many a time during the past three years. Every time that I added an ounce of gold to my store, I said, ‘ that brings me so much nearer to the girl I love.’ First to complete my task of ven- geance, and then to find happiness in your love.” ‘“* A task of vengeance?” she said. “Yes; I’ve yet to punish Van Rensselaer for that dark night’s work in Mulberry street, when poor O’Kale fell by his assassin hand. It was David Van Rensselaer who set fire to the old house to destroy all evidence of his crime. And now he wishes to get possession of this will so that he may rob his half-sister, Alice, of her share of his father’s estate. A cool, calculating villain is this same Van Renss- elacr.” “But this girl; Alice—is she living?” Coralie asked. “T hope so; I have a brother detective employed to hunt her up now. Do you know what this old gentleman Hart- ight declares?” “No; what?” “That you are Alice Van Rensselaer.” Coralie shook her head sadly. “Tknow that; that is the reason why he went with me go readily from the masquerade. In the tones of my voice even he detected a resemblance to the child confided to his care.” ‘“‘ But you yourself—what do you think of the idea?” “T wish that it were possible, but I am afraid that it is not,” the girl said, mournfully. “He is strong in his belief. him this morning and almost his last words to me were, that when I found you I would discover the heiress to half of the Van Rensselaer estate. Do you know who your parents were, Sue?” «¢ No. ” ‘Perhaps, then, the old man may be right in his assei- tion?” Bright said, hopefully. I had an interview with The California Detective. AT *“‘T am afraid aot. Last night he told me the stoty a Alice Van Rensselaer, and though in some particulars it re- minded me of my own life, yet the name of the woman to whose care he confided the child was not familiar to me.” “Sit down, Sue, and tell me all that you can remember of your childhood; perhaps it may aid me.” CHAPTER XiXI DIGGING THE MINE, Coram drew her chair close to that of her lover, and ,eaning her head on his shoulder, while his arm encircled her waist, began her story. “The first I can remember is living in a large woodeu house surrounded by trees. I feel sure that this house was in the country. A middle-aged woman whom I used to call aunty took care of me, Her name was Wilson, Her husband was a great, strong, brutal man who used to steep his brain in liquor and then come home and ill-treat her. I think I was about five years old at that time.” ‘‘ But, can you not remember any of your life before this period that you speak of?” the detective asked. ‘‘ Nothing distinctly,” the girl replied, slowly; “‘a sort of dreamy remembrance comes back to me, sometimes, wherein I see other faces, and hear other voices, but it is so shadowy that I can hardly believe it is any thing but fancy. One dark night aunty took me by the hand after having dressed me for walking, and we left the house. I did not understand it then, but I do now; she was flying from her husband. We came to New York. She hada hard struggle for existence, and finally, acting under the ad- vice of the woman with whom she had found shelter, she sent me out into the street with a basket of fruit to sell. The woman’s daughter also sold fruit in the street and she instructed me.” ** But is your name Susan?” ‘*T don’t know; Mrs. Wilson always called me Dolly, but my street friend said that was no name at all and that | must be called Susan. When I asked aunty if Dolly was truly my name she became angry and scolded me, and so at last when any one asked what my name was, I answered. Susan.” ‘Your story affords me no clue,” Bright said, slowly. “But don’t despair. I’ve got one of the best men in the detective force on the scent and he’ll discover the truth if any one can.” “ But, Royal,” said the girl, suddenly, ‘why did you not give your name to the servant, or did you wish to sur- prise me?” “You forget, my darling, I hadn’t the remotest idea that it was you whom I was going to see,” he replied. ‘* How could I guess that Coralie York, the actress, was Sue Wil- gon, the Orange Girl? Besides, all New York knows me now as James Bright, the California detective. Royal Keene has changed, too, you see, in three years.” ‘‘ But to me you are just the same,” ‘« Just as dear?” he quizzed, roguishly, passing his hand tightly over the smooth forehead of the girl. ‘‘ Yes,” she whispered, lowly and coyly. ‘and now I must say good-by,” he said, rising; ‘ I’ve work on hand that must not be delayed.” “When will you come again?” she asked, quickly. “Will you be at home to-morrow evening?” “Yes.” “«] will come then; good-by.” Again he pressed the lithe form of the young girl to his heart, kissed the ripe, red lips so full of dewy freshness, and then took his departure, | (ECO p nical oxevey <3 (E(0)