CHAPTER V.—(Continued.)

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 423, 27 November 1889, Page 6

CHAPTER V.— (Continued.)

• I returned to Powyss Place,' Sir Victor continued, 'but not as I had left. I was a haunted man. By day and night — all night long, all day through, tho awtul warning pursued me. "My fate may be yours — your mother's fate Jicrs !" It waa .my destiny, there was no escape ; my mother's doom would be yours ; on our wedding-day I was fated to kill you ! It was< writtsn. Nothing could avert ib. 4 1 don't know whether the family taint was always latent within me, or £hat it was continual brooding on what I had heard, but the fate certainly befell me. My father's homicidal mania became mine. Edith, I felt it, felt the dreadful whisper in my ear, tho awful desire stirring in my heart, to 1 lift my hand and take your life ! Often and i often have I tiled from, your presence when I felt the temptation growing (stronger thun "I could withstand. • And yet I would not give you up ; that is vrhere I can never forgive myeelf. I could not tell you ; I could not draw back then. 1 hoped against hope ; it seemed like tearing body and soul asunder, the thought of losing you. * Come what may,' '1 cried, in my anguish, 'she shall be my •--wife V '.. ' Our wedding-day came ; the day that should have been the most blessed of my life, that Was the 1 most miserable. All the night before, all that morning, the demon within me had been battling(for the victory. I could not exorcise it ; it stood between U 3 at the altar. Then came our bilent, strange wedding journey. I wonder sometimes, as I looked at you, so still, so pale, so beautiful, what you must think. I dare not look at you of ten, I daie not speak to you, dare not think of you. I felt if I did 1 should lose all control of myself, and slay you there and then. 1 1 wonder, as you sit and listen there, my love, my bride, whether it is pity or loathing that fills your heart. And yet I deserved pity ; what I suffered no tongue •can ever tell. I knew myself mad, knew that sooner or later my madness would be stronger than myself, and then it came upon me so forcibly when we reached Carnarvon, that I fled from you again and went wandering away by myself, where, I knew hot. " Sooner or later you will kill her ;:>; :> that thought alone filled me ; 14 it is as certain as that you live and stand here. You will kill this girl who trusts you and who has married you, who does not dream she has married a demon athirst for her blood. rt • I went wild then. I fell down on my knees in the wet grass, and held up my hands to the sky. ,"OhGod!" I cried' out in despair, " show me what to do. Don't let me kill my darling. Strike me dead where I kneel sooner than that !" And with the words the bitterness of death seemed to pass, and great calm fell. In that calm a voice spoke clearly, and said : '- ' '• Leave her ! Leave your bride while there ia yet time. It is the only way. Leave her ! .She does not love you, she will not care. Better that you' should breDk your heart and die, than that you should _ harm a hair of her head." 'I heard it 'as plainly, Edith, as I hear my own voice speaking now. I rose — my resolution taken — a great unutterable peace rilling my heart. In my exalted state it seemed so easy — 1 alone would be the sufferer, not you — I would go. 4 1 went back. The first sight I saw was you, my darling, vsitting by the open window last asleep- - Fast asleep, as my mother had been that dreadful night. If anything had been wanting to confirm my resolution, that would have done it. 1 wrote thenote of farewell ; I came in and kissed your dear hands, and went away from you for c% r er. O love ! it beemed easy then, but my heart broke in that hour. I could not live without you ; thank Keaven ! the sacrifice is not asked. I have told you all — it lay between two things — I must leave you, or in my madness kill you. Edith, ib would have happened. You have heard my story — you know all — the> dreadful pecret that has held us asunder. It is for you to say whether I can be forgiven or not.' She had all the time been sitting her face hidden in her hands; never stirring or speaking. ISow she arose and fell once more on her knees beside him, tears pouring from her eye.-. She drew his head into her arms, she stooped down, and for the first time in her life, kissed again and again the lips of the man she had married. 'Forgive you !' she said. '0, my husband, my martyr ! It is I who must be forgiven ! You, are an angel, not a man !'