Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 501 — page 10: what you’re looking at

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

_-wolition.” ‘‘On the contrary, sadly, sorrowfully true, Miss Gray! fHe—loved you!” Edna was grievously startled. She seemed to be hesitating between tears and hysterical laughter—so often in such brotherhood with tears in sensitive natures, ‘‘But I do not, I eannot understand!” she managed to murmur. “He had seen me Sut once—that once.” ‘‘Tt was enough, Your sweet face had be- | come indelibly impressed upon that strange softness in the heart of man, whose hardening with time yields its eidolon forever more—a fountain and a shrine! When it seemed to have | failed, to have crumbled at last—after that the | deluge!” CHAPTER XIII. EDNA’S OUTLOOK BRIGHTENS, Tue tears were rolling down Edna’s cheeks, and yet an unnatural calmness enabled her to | control her voice. ‘“Of course, I could have known nothing of | this,” she said. ‘‘I—I am indescribably moved | at what you have told me, sir.” ‘‘More’s the pity! I should not have told | you; I have acted a thankless and brutal part!” | ** Don’t say that. The truth should always be | faced, even if—if an unhappy truth.” ‘‘ Were you on the point of saying unwelcome, | instead of unhappy?” demanded Mr. Willard, | erly. ENG matter,” confusedly. that I did not say unwelcome.” ‘*Ob, pardon me! but it is not enough.” “Why, pray?” ‘“ Because if you did not say it because you could not truthfully—” ‘* Well, sir?’ her maidenly pride was return- ing to her now. ‘It then might have been inferred—pardon | everything to my sincerity, Miss Gray !—that | the knowledge of his having loved you, even | thus unavailingly, to the end was the reverse of | unwelcome, howsoever painful; that, in the same vague, spiritual way, you might even have reciprovated the sentiment.” “Sir!” And then she was meek and con- | _, science-stricken again. ‘‘Oh, why should you | ask me this? How should I know what to an- swer, when we bad met but that once, when all that followed was so vague, so unreal and so dream-like? And what good could it do him now, even if I could say yes to what you ask— | —now that he has gone down to the grave be-_ lieving me e weak and deliberately perjured wretc : Edgar was profoundly agitated. ‘Forgive the Fag 8 12 could dono good, | and was uncalled for,” he pleaded, strugglingly. ‘“Give me at least the satisfaction of knowing | that my poor friend—your faithful but scarcely known lover—died under a most painful mis- apprehension as to your culpability. For I feel certain it was so, without having yet heard your assurance to that end,” ‘*T assure you now, sir. He wronged me in his miss pprehension—wronged me bitterly—I swear it!’ —, young man’s face became almost trans- “Tt is enough | gured. “God bless you for saying this!” he exclaimed with vehemence. ‘‘Oh! I bad no sooner set eyes on your beautiful face, so as to read the poriy of the soul thatso transfusesits sweet ineaments— But what am I saying? Good Heavens! Miss Gray, pardon me.” She was looking at him curiously. ‘ Never mind, if you only chanced to forget yourself,” she said, coldly. ‘*But I did forget myself, and it shall not occur again, Miss Gray, unless— Oh, it was the recollection of my friend Harper’s anguish over your sup treason; in fact I felt my- self almost in his place, Miss Gray.” ** Don’t allude to it again, sir.” ‘*Thank you, miss, thank you! May I then} ask why and how you happened to reveal what a had sworn to conceal with regard to the edy you had witnessed?” ‘You may, sir. I bad sworn to reveal noth- \consciously, I kept the letter, if not the a a in spirit, of my oath.” ‘* The secret—” ** Was torn from me without my knowledge or “You amaze me! In what way?” “By my father’s mesmerizing power. He isa wonderful mesmerizer, and I had from time to time been his ‘ subject,’ as it is called. He sus- cted some painful burden on my mind, and re- eved me of it—to his own satisfaction, at least. Now you have it all.” He looked at her in such astonishment that she forthwith told him the whole story, includ- pens Shee of the unsuccessful search for the poet F d was some time before the young man co mes collect himself sufficiently to speak, after his absorption of this, to him, astounding and grati- __ fying piece of confid ence, ‘Even then his emotion found better expres- sion in his manner than in words, Before Edna could be aware of his intention he had seized her hand and raised it reverently to his lips, ‘* For our dead and unhappy friend!” said he, ‘Springs —— = - : ae Ca a fo) wv impressively. ‘‘May he long ere this have | made the gratifying and relieving justification that has been voucbsufed me from your lips to- day!” dna snatched away her hand much more | suddenly than she might have done, for here there was a suspicious movement near them, and Miss Libby was seen laboriously stealing _away from an eavesdropping nook with a con- vulsed face and as nearly an ashy complexion as was consistent with her superabundance of | flesh. Edna was reassured by an amused smile on Mr. Willard’s lips, and it was also perceived that the escaping intruder was not conscious of | having been detected. ‘‘Tt is well to be on one’s guard, Miss Gray,” said he, in a low voice. ‘* Therefore, make no mistake as to the nature and disposition of our fleshily inquisitive young lady.” “Have I been under a misapprebenion thus far, think you?’ ‘*T think so, judging by your allusions to her ‘exuberance,’ her ‘ good-nature,’ and the like.” ‘What, then, is your judgment, sir?” “A thorough hypocrite, arrant, fierce, and, upon provocation, revengeful and deadly!” ‘*Poor Miss Libby! I think you are too severe.” ‘* Disabuse yourself of that impression. But wait; I can probably unmask another, yet more to be feared. She ought not to be far away.” And then, as Mr. Willard began to thrash about in some adjacent ferns and underbrush with his walking-stick, as if beating for game or snakes, the gaunt presence of Miss Raw was made known to them, rising slowly into view, and with a challenging look in her iron-like visage. ‘‘What did I tell er he asked, with his pleasant smile, as this intruder likewise glided, or rather strode away, unabashed at her detec- ann. ng But forewarned is ever forearmed, Miss ray. Edna could not help being disconcerted by these incidents. ‘‘That woman seems to haunt you unpleasant- ly, sir,” she observed, as they retraced their steps in the direction of the house, Mr, Willard laughed. ‘*T shall have to stand it,” said he. ‘“ Might I ask the cause of her animosity?” ‘*Oh, to be sure! Iam the heir-at-law, don’t you see? And if I had really been dead, as was fondly hoped by many, Miss Raw and others of my grandfather’s distant relations might have soba some chance with the property, as no will was left. There are few things one so seldom forgives as disappointment, Miss Gray.” It is not in the purpose of our story to depict a love-making in its various stages, howsoever delightful to the participants, but rather to deal with what followed its outcome, In less than a month after this interview, Edua Gray was returning to her room, after a long afternoon’s drive with Mr, Edgar Willard, when she was confronted with Miss Libby. ‘‘Dear Miss Edna!” exclaimed the daughter of the house. impuisively folding her in an un- usually exuberant embrace; ‘‘ you must take better care of yourself. You are looking flushed and flowstered !” ‘Am 1, though, Libby?” replied, Edna, who was only conscious of feeling very happy. “It is odd, then; for I never felt better in my life.” And she began to take off her hat and smarten up her hair before the glass, ‘‘Oh, one is never a judge of oneself, my dear,” said Miss Libby, seating herself com- posedly. ‘‘ By they way, I really ought to tell you something.” It should be said that Miss Libby had seemed from the very first to have accepted the ruin of ber unfounded hopes with regard to the heir of Willard Manse with the utmost equanimity, and had even appeared more gushing than ever in her tenderness for the city guest. “Speak right out, then,” said Edna, good- naturedly. “Well, then, my dear, your going out so much with Mr. Edgar—so constant and con- clusively,” (she doubtless meant exclusively.) know—is causing a good-deal of remark.” ‘* Indeed?” ’ ‘© Yes; people will talk, you know.” “Some will, I am quite aware.” ‘‘This what 1’m inclosin’ to you, Miss Edna, is all for your own good,” os Miss Libby, with owlish solemnity. ‘ Don’t furgit that.” “Anything to oblige you, of course!” cried the other, laughing out heartily. ‘“*‘ But why shouldn’t I gO out with Mr. Edgar so much?” “ Mightn’t he be a-conceivin’ vou? Is there any knowing what scandalous detections he might have had with Sother women down there in South Africa?” . Edna laughed again. but ald grew grave. “You may mean well, Libby; but I can’t have you speaking of Mr. Willard to me in that way. . Lord! an’ why not, miss?” “Because he—he has become more to me than other gentlemen.” ‘* Has he popped?” almost yelled Miss Libby, ening et with a crash that shook the ouse. eve. Ww e : —s « goa be When Edna could sufficiently contro) her risibilities, she indicated an affirmative. Miss Libby suddenly burst into a flood of tears that was not unlike the giving way of a moun- tain dam in a springtide freshet, and ence more was the young woman folded in her enormous embrace, ** Bless you, Miss Edna, bless you!” she sob- bed. ‘These are tears of pure belief, my dear. It was in the hope that he would one day com- pose to you that I myself disjected the furst of- fer of his hand and heart,” “That was real good of you, Libby! But, let me go now, asl must go and find my fa- ther.” Mr. Gray seemed both pleased and regretful at what bis daughter had to confide. ‘*] make no doubt he’ll make you a good hus- band, as he certainly will a rich one, my love,” said he. ‘‘ But I feel real sorry for Jake Lang- ley, though he must have seen that his cake was dough long before ‘this,” ‘““['m sorry for him, too, father—that is, as sorry asI can be for anybody just now,” said Edna, with a love-entranced smile, ‘ For Mr. Langley is a good fellow.” CHAPTER IV. THE MANSE AND ITS MYSTERIES, Epna, Edgar and Mr. Gray were at Willard Manse, overlooking the large number of work- men who were putting the pretentious but sadly- dilapidated old house in repair. It was not Edna’s first return thither, and, such is the effect of love, she had by this time conquered her olden dread of the Bleak Hollow locality. The marriage was fixed for the first of September. Edgar’s claim to the estate had at last been legally admitted, under certain res- ervations; money in Be cra was at his wre Soe he had had less difficulty than he expected in persuading his affianced that the home of his ancestors was the fittest in which to begin their married life; and now he was sparing no ex- pense in putting both house and grounds in thorough repair. Of course, the heir was as much a stranger to the place as any one else, and he was equally interested with his companions in the many odd nooks and corners that were being revealed in the old house by the improvements in progress, On this occasion the foreman came to where the trio were standing, and, touching his cap to the new proprietor, said: ‘It’s a queer ‘overy we’ve made just off the late Mr. Willard’s sleeping-room, sir. Wall you come?” They accompanied him to the spacious bed- room, formerly occupied by the miser, and in which the murder was supposed to have been committed. Eo ac pe with most of the remaining rooms, it bad been denuded of its furmiture, and two or three men were repairing the floor and wainscoting. 4 In one wall was perceived a built-in fire-proof safe, whose door was wide open, disclosing the emptiness within; and just below was an iron- bound strong box, fastencd to the floor and wall, likewise empty and open. - Edna could look upon these things with only a passingly disagreeable sensation now, notwith- standing that they were probably just as they bad been left by the murderers, after being burst open and rifled of their contents. She was, however, quickly attracted by a loomy and unusual agitation, which seemed to ave taken sion of her betrothed from the moment of his crossing the threshold of the fatal chamber. ¢ ee seemed strangely ill at ease, and wished to one. ‘““What is your discovery” he abruptly de- manded of the foreman. ‘‘ Not those?” indicat- ing the safe and box. ‘They explain them- ves, and I have been advised of them before.” ‘*No, sir, not those. Look!” The man touched a concealed spring in the wainscoting of an adjoining wall, and a cun- ningly disguised door slowly opened outward. It revealed the interior of a small apartment, like a prison cell in both size and furnishings, and lighted by a grated window so narrow that its presence could ate have been suspected in the thick wall, viewed from the outside, “This is very strange,” muttered Edgar. LF ne could have been the occupant of this ce And, accompanied by his companions, he stepped into it, and looked curiously around. ‘‘Haw, haw, haw! He, he, be!” sounded a mirthless laugh behind them; and al] turned to perceive Miss Raw looking grimly in upon them. ‘*Tt’s only the old scarecrow!” said the fore- man, shrugging his shoulders. ‘‘Sbe follows us from room to room ever since we've been to work here. Has she your permission, sir?’ ‘And he looked up to young Willard, inquir- ingly. Before the latter could reply, Miss Raw was beforehand with him. “‘Scarecrows sometimes hev more sense than chuckleheads!” she shouted, as if giving com- mands toa regiment. ‘7 know who ied that ’ere den, eff you don’t!” | 7 ' F, : © Seg ~~ * M4 aia. oan we L ay W\e - mt om * d , ee ; ; od a ‘oll . ve re , ’ = 3 , a ’ ¥ 7 f (E(o) (| | (€/0 : Bese Oe ist OR PR a eg atl apo US cc