Literature.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume XLVI, Issue 143, 21 June 1904, Page 4

Literature.

T.UE WOMAN HE U) F.D. (Continued.) Fivc-and-tweney years ; fter that day whui he looked for the last time, as he believed, oi the fair, false face of Alice Farle.,, Kodney Dane and his son were sitting in the private parlour of Dr. tiruham's Asylum for the Insane. Dr. Graham had been Bane's schoolmate : Dane had come to visit Dr. t.ruham

twinging with him the yot-ng man who bore his name, and Into a face so like his own that he was often startled with the likeness. It almost seemed as if he saw himself living life over again. "I never saw a more striking resemblance," Dr. Graham said. "Looking at him 1 see you as you were at, bis age, ami it teems as it you have kept your youth, while 1 have grown old." By-aud-bye, when the young man had left them, the two grey-haired men talked about the happenings oi the years since they had seen each other.

•The last time 1 saw you, you will reUienVuef, was when you were on your way to some country place," Dr. Graham said. "From what you said to me i inferred tnai you expected to «in a wife there, lid you do so '.'»

Kodney Dane's face paled at the question. FHe-aud-lwenty years had not healed the wound thai Alice Farley's suppose.! falseness had left in his heart. For. although he had tried to loi-get. or. at least, to kill the love he had felt for her, he had never been able to do so. There had never been a day that he had not seen iler as he saw her that last, time, with the anguish of a breaking l heart in her lace. That look haunted him at niglu. It came to him like the guost of something he had murdered. TJiough he told himself that she was false, and deserved no pity from him, he could not think about her without a strange thrill of regret ami borrow. For, you see, he had loved her us a man can love but once.

"No," he answeredwith a sigh, "1 did not win the woman I told you of, or, rather, 1 won her and lost her! You knew the woman I marriedMargaret Worth—l think."

"I knew her well," Dr. Graham replied. "I used to think she cared more for you than she did for anyone else, but 1 never thought thai you would marrv her.''

" Things seldom happen as we think they are going to," Hodnev Dane said with a sigh. "Yes 1 married Margaret, and she was a loathful wife to me for manv years, one, at leasil, was true." he added whole the memory of one who iva< false stirred his heart. He wondered it she were living or dead. For five-and-twenty years she had been dead to the world he lived in. but the grass might not be growing over her

film V "?* Danc Joined liiem after his walk through the grounds, [.,. Graham proposed that they should visit the Asylum I have some strange cases under "V chaifee," he said. as fbev entered the wards. "There is to a woman who was standing at a window, iooki . ng out as i; sl £ I * «i to see someone she had l.mgWi, looking for, |,,it who never came. tier lace waa hidden from them but the snow-white hair that fell upon ben neck told that she was no longer young.

"She has been here nearly fifteen years," Dr. Graham said. "Her story, told me by her brother, who put her in my charge just before his death, is like a leaf from a romance. This brother, years and years ago, was suspected of having committed a terrible crime. Her father believed him guilty, and to sale his life he tied from the home of his boyhood. Only one person had believed his story of innocence, and that person was his sister.

"For five years he wandered i.Vx>ut the world, an outcast. Then the longing came over him to visit his old home again. He went back to it as a stranger, daring to make his identity known only to her. who had never lost her belief in his innocence. She met her brother secretly, |ut'it seems that her lover witnessed their last meeting, ami, believing she .wttsj -false, he left her in anger. She dared not tell him the truth, fearing that her father, who was a. stern man, would set the police on the fugitive's track . In some manner, her father found out the truth.after all, and he was furious with wrath because she had disobeyed his command that she should never see her l»rother agaia. She was strong in her belief in that brother's innocence Band dared to say so. Then the old man, in his bitter, cruel wrath .drove her from home, and she sought refuge with her brother. Her trouble brought on a long illness. When bodily health came back, her mind was a wreck. Her brother kept her with him until he knew that he had not long to live. Then he put her in my charge, and she has been here ever since ; and probably will still remain here, as her father died long ago, and she has no relations. Since her brother died, I have been to'd that his innocence has been fully established by the confession of Unguilty party. She seldom speaks to anybody, but is always watching mid waiting for someone." Rodney Dane's face had grown very pale as he listened to his old fr.iemi. Was it the story of the woman that he loved that was being told him ? Something assur~~him that it was. The woman at the window turned suddenly, and faced them. Thus after five-aud-twenty years, Rodney Dane and Alice Farley met again. A cry, that had the sound of a sob in it, broke from the woman's lips. She sprang forward with outstretched hands.

'•Oh !Kodn:-y, Ho-dney, I luue<b*-en waiting for this time so long. so long!" s>hu cried, and her poor paleface was full of the unutterable pathos of the dead years. T was not false to you, Jiodney. iielieve me ' —oil ! believe me!"' Ilut her hands were not ivnelr-d out to the Kodney Dane «|,o ) u „i f/een lier lover. Instead, she stolid before his son. and to him her passionate plea was uttered. "Alice," the Kodney of her past

.said, gently. "I am ttie man you mean. This man. whom vim mistake ■'or me is my son. Have 1 changed o ih.u you do not know me V"

* A;. i do not know you," »he said, looking a I him as one might look ae an utler stranger. "I you. But you, Kodney—you haven't ''ravin a day older, it seems to me, than you were when 1 saw .you last :' while I—l have grown to l>e an old, old woman."

Young liodney looked from one to the other in perplexity. "Alice," his father said, hoping to make the truth clear to her -bewildered brain, ' you are mistaken. This is another Kodney Dane. 1 am the one you knew." "Why do you tell me that ?" she cried. "1 know lietter. You are an eld man. This is the Rodney I knew," turning to the young man again. "Oh, liodney, the man you saw with tne was not my lover, hut my brother, and 1 would have told you the truth, if you had trusted me a little. But you would not. and my heart broke when you left me. thinking me false. Do you remember, Kodney, you said you prayed God you might never see my face again > Hut I prayed we might meet sometime before I diAI. that 1 might lell you that I was true to you ; and my prayer, not yours, has been answerud. I could not die until 1 had told you the truth. Oh, Rodney, tell tne that at last you believe me. and let me die in peace."

Kodney Dane signed to his son to .jive h<M- th.' assurance site desired. "I do believe yon," the young man rfaid. with a strange fivlin-g of (bl>m-g someone else. To Ids father it seemod, as he listened to the words that were meant for him addressed to another, as if he had died years ago, ami this young man was a ghost of iiis former self. "He believes me. and tells me so!" she cried, and her face was full of unutterable gladness. "1 can die now."

She wavered like a reed in the wind, anil would have fallen if her old lover had not sprung forward, ami caught her. '•The, end's here,'' she whispered, her eyes on the young man's face —a look full of love that had outlived llie sorrowful years. "Toll me again that you believe me, and kiss me once—just once, Rodney—to seal the peace between us." Young Rodney Dane felt moved by something outside of himself. A great wave of tenderness for the woman who was lying in his father's arms swept over him. It was as if he became, for the, time being the man who loved her. He drew her to his breast and kissed her, and the man whose heart was mightily stirred by the love of long ago was obliged to see the Liss he longed to give, given by another. "Good-bye," she said faintly, a great light coming into her face and making it radiant. "Sometimetime "

Yes; sometime, somewhere, poor, weary heart, the tangled threads of Fate will be straightened out, and then

There was a little flutter of the! liands, one last look „■ love that could never diie, and " ' .oman- Rodney Dane loved was in the arms of another. And it seemed to him that this was ids punishment for his lack of faith in her, years ago. and a great sense of loss came over him as he looked through tears upon the face of the dead