CHAPTER VI. SICKNESS AND THE MIDNIGHT FLIGHT.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 121, 26 September 1885, Page 6

CHAPTER VI. SICKNESS AND THE MIDNIGHT FLIGHT.

The night of the ball, so impatiently looked for, came at last. It was cold, bit' terly cold j the wind whistled and blew down the chimneys of the old farm house until the fires leaped and spluttered, telling of an approaching storm. The old farm house was all aglow with light and warmth, Mrs Maynard, regal in black velvet, waited unmasked to receive the guests. Carriage after carriage drove up the gravelled walk and unloaded their freight of masked revellers. All were welcomed gayly, and atter throwing off the wraps that enveloped them! entered the ballroom^ fitted mp .for 'the' occasion, and mingled in; startling 'contrast costumes of- every kind' and description; 'A fair young bride? came qreeping' softly in, and was i^a strange fatality that a darkvisored, black-cappedvwlddw walked in her train, at first timid; hesitatingly, 1 and then,; ns J the^aovelty: s of t the situation . wore ' fl&H! more regally erect.

Mark, conspiououßjieoaueie of liis height, and curling blonde hair, made his way to the side of Alda Lorrie j he knew her in a moment, th« fair young bride. The straight, slender, graceful girl seemed very near to him that night ; ho forgot Candice in the ball'B gay excitement, and when the. young widow loitering hear them attracted his attention he did not associate her with his wife, whom hesupposed sound asleep in her own room, To Alda Lome no man in that room could oompare with Mark. She watched him, a world of love in the depths of her dark eyes. She did not dance, as she had not felt very 'well for several days, and to-night a strange lassitude oppressed her ; still Bhe experienced no sadness. Was not Mark by her side constantly, attentive to her slightest wants? The gay revelry went on, and at midnight they were to unmask. Candice knew this, and designed at the proper in< stant to creep quietly away. She was watching Mark and Alda with a singular, undecided feeling in her heart. Did he love fair Alda 1 " Alda ! Oh ! my God I" It was Mark's voice, full of passionate sorrow, and in his arms like a broken lily lay Mies Lome ; her white bridal robes were stained and streaked with the crimson life blood flowing from her lips ! What olid it all mean ? Candice gazed with a great horror in her wide-brown eyes Masks were thrown off amid the confusion, and all the dancers, pressed eagerly about. "Carry her to her room ! cried Mrs Maynard, . Trembling with emotion and with a look of agony on his handsome face, Mark obeyed in silence, bore her through the hallway straight to her chamber, and Candice creeping softly behind him, hoping to escape unobserved, saw him press his lips ardently to the marble cheeks. That was enough ; undecided no longer as to where hte affection was placed, Candice enterod her little room and locked the door j next she lighted her lamp and commenced making all her mother's dark dresses up in a bundle. She found the heavy orape veil and tied it tightly over a little blaok straw hat ; then she took a small purse from out of her trunktill and counted its contents— thirteen dolara, that was all ; not much for a young girl to think of facing the world with, alone and friendless ! Mark had given hei this money off and on to get trifles of wearing apparel, but fearing Mrs Maynard would notice and wonder where she got the money, she had laid it quietly aside, and now it was to serve her in her wild flight. Down the stairway she crept quietly, cautiously, pausing just one moment outside of Alda's room ; muffled voices came to her ear, that was all, and almost holding her breath forfearthey wouldhearherfootsteps, shehurried safely by. Through the dining-room to the kitchen she went, and, unlatching the door, hurried out, closing it behind her. She stopped then just one moment and listened furtively ; the old Maltese cat purred contentedly at her feet ; she took it up and pressed her yeung lips to its soft fur ; then, as if afraid her heart would fail her, she rushed blindly, wildly out in the darkness. Down the well-worn path which led by the fish-pond toward the'station beyond she sped. The wind blew in her face, almost blinding her. It had rained two days previously, and tb.6 soil had been wet and muddy ; now it had commenced freezing, and the ground was rough and uneven. It was so dark she could scarcely see her way : she approached too near the little lake, down sunk her feet in the soft mold, and one tiny rubber was left sticking in the loamy soil. In the darkness she could not recover it. Changing her course slightly so as to avoid the lake, she went on and on : in a short time -he found heraelf at Valley Station, and drawing her widow's veil about her to prevent recognition, she purchased a ticket for Chicago ; it cost three dollars and twenty cents ; well, she had enough left to keep her for a few days at least, and, sinking on the hard wooden bench with her bundle beside her, she awaited the train's arrival. Why was she going to Chicago ? She did not stop to ask herself that question ; only Katie, warm-hearted, Irish Katie, was somewhere in that large city ; she would go to her ; she did not think, poor child, that it would be a worse task than hunting for a needle in a hay-stack to find Katie in that babel of noise and confusion ! The train came whizzing in ; she took her seat in the car hastily and drew her veil more closely about her face ; no one noticed the black-robed figure sitting so quietly in the corner ; the conductor came along, took up her ticket and passed on, and Candice was left to her own bitter, burning thoughts. Somewhere on earth she would find some spot to hide herself, and perhaps she m'ght die ; she was young and strong, but then the young and strong die sometimes ! On, on went the train, screaming and puffing, and Candice, cowering down in her seat, thought of what she had left behind — her young husband who did not love her, and her aunt who disliked her. " They will be glad I have gone," she thought, bitterly, " elacl to be rid of the poor relation, and Mark can marry Alda !" Poor Alda ! and even Candice felt a pang of sorrow for the bright, fair girl, lying so low in the old farm house. In the room where Alda lay anxious watchers were by her side ; a severe hemorrhage, the worst she had ever experienced, had left her wan and weak. Mark, hurrying toward the station in the darkness, had followed directly in his young wife's footsteps ; he was in search df the doctor, for something must be done to stop the flow of blood that was sapping the young life of Alda Lome. Little did he dream that Candice was hurrying from her rightful home out into the hard, cold world !