THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 3093, 15 January 1909, Page 2

THE CURSE OF HER LIFE OR A DARK SECRET.

By HELEN CORWIN PIERCE, Aut'wr of "At Ilis Own Game," "Carrie Emerson Wilde," "Badly Match'-d," "Tie Cheated Bride," Etc.

r " CHAPTER XVll.—Continued. j Edith nut her hand to her heart as j she caught the letter up. What new horror was this? The letter was from Baron Arundel. Lord Disbro had bean thrown by a j vicious horse in the field and killed j instantly! The letter was merely one oi' notification to Rose as one of the unfortunate man's few surviving living relations. Cold-hearted and selfish as Rose Altman was, even she shrank at the agony that distorted Edith's marble face, as sfte read the news of the death of the only man she had ever really loved. She was frightened, if she was not pitiful. "I'll call Dorcas!" she stammered, i creeping out of the room. I Edith did not hear her. She sat staring blankly straight before her till her faithful old nurse came and coaxed her away. "I've killed him, too, Dorcas!" she said in the strange voice. "First my husband, then poor Lois and Randal, and now my darling, my. best loved of all, my Frank. You'll be next, Dorcas, and Rose will outlive us all!" Dorcas put her arms round her like a mother, and held her tired, unhappy head on her bosom the night through. Tears coursed down the old womans cheeks. "What sin has she done, my poor lamb, to suffer so?" she grumbled. Edith lay all night without sleeping. In the morning she insisted on rising and being dresssd, and would go down stairs. "There's something in the library I want," she insisted peevishly, when Durcas opposed her. "Let me get it for you, Miss Edy," she said. "No!" Dorcas fell back at the imperious tone, the flashing eyes. "Heaven save us, she's going mad ■with all the trouble!" the woman muttered in a fright. Edith glided from' her hand and down the dim halls like a wild spirit. S;e met no one. The library itself offered her btit emptiness and a glare of fire on the marble hearth. She floated in and toward it looking over the room wistfully. It was he-re she had been with Lord Disbro last. Here she had frum him. And he was dead —dead, without a word of kindress to the woman who loved him so, and whom he had left in anger. A sealed letter lay on the red, einbosssd table, the superscription uppermost. Something familiar about that caught Edith's eye.. She took it in hc-r hand. It was directed to her, and in Frank's writing. The postmark was for the day before he was killed. He had written to her then. He had thought of her. She tore the leitefr open, glanced at the heading, and burst into tears. It whs written the day before that fatal hunt. A presentiment of what was to happen must have been on him e\?en then. The letter was a solemn farewell to the only woman he had ever loved—wild, passionate, despairing, and fond. Edith sank upon her knees, pressing kiiS upon kiss on the inanimate paper. "You kno-vail now, my darling, my r'ailing !• the murmured. "You know how I loved you and why I lost you! Oh! I would have gladly died for you, my Frank! My Frank!" "Y'ou shell live for me, Edith, God willing!" a half-crazed voice cried in her ear, and Edith looked up to see a form, a face so like the dead one that sense and reason refused to endure more. She fell forward, fainting, and he —the living inan f not his ghost—caught her as she fell and strained her fiercely to his breast Dorcas Lynn had followed her mistress thus far, and was peeping through a crack, when this last most startling denouement came. The old woman draw back awestruck. "Heaven has her in ita keeping yet, Ido believe," she muttered as she crept away. Edith waked to cousciousness in her lover's arms. He was holding her in a wild embrace, his eyes devouring her face hungrily. Edith's first sensation was one of exquisite peace ai:r! rest. She was dead and in heaven, and with Frank. "Oh, I hope it is so!" she thought dreamily. "My own, my Edith, whom nothing will take from me now! my darling, whom 1 love and who loves me!" his voice said, a-i she came back to life, and looked into the face she had thought was dead for ever. "Are you not dead, then?" she gasped. Frank smiled and shook his bead. "It was a mistake. I was thrown and became insensible for a time, and all thought I was dead. The news was sent here, and when 1 learned it, I resolved to follow it instantly, and see if J. could not, by my resurrection, surprise from you an acknowledgement of the love I believed you bad for me, in spite of all. Edith made a faint effort here to get away from him, but he held her fast, and went on. "I found my letter here, delayed something, and I corgratulated myself that it was so. It was more lever with which to operate upon your obstinate heart, and compel from it an acknowledgement of its rightful master. I saw you coming toward the library just in time, and, having deposited my own letter conspicuously, hid myself. I have watched you through all, Edith. You can deny me r.o longer. I saw you cry over my letter, arc! kiss it. I heard you call me such fond, sweet v ore's, as I had despaired of ever winning from those dear lips. You ran never be rid of me any more rcw; I own >TU. You are mine and am ycu.'i."

Edith's lips open feebly. "No," she said; and she looked so hopeless, so despairing, in spite oi her juv at seeing him, that a horrible pang smote him. "The gulf is not spanned yet," he thought, "bur.it shall be." •■] don't euro what your secrets ate, Edith dearest. Do you understand tha r ?" he said, desperately. "You are mine, in spite of all the secrets that ever were invented.' "No," said the feeble voice; so si-.d, so weak, and yet so unyielding. "Why not?" "Because my secret still exists, and is between us. I have sworn a solemn vow never to tell it, and I can never bs yours while it exists." That very moment rose a commotion outside. It came near and nearer. Edith, living ever in a world of fear, started up wildly. "Oil! What is it?" Lord Disbro pulled open the library door and looked out, and shut it again. A rift of whiteness had crossed his face in that second of time. "It is nothing," he said. Edith looked him sternly in the face. "You are deceiving me. Let me go myself, and see what it is." "Wait, and I will tell you." Frank put his arm round her once more. "They are bringing in a dead body. It cannot concern us."

CHAPTER XIX. FRANK'S DISCOVERY, A scream broke from Edith's lips. "Let me go!" she cried, and by an unexpected effort Of strength burst from.him and out into the large hall, It was an awful sight she saw — four of the men servants bearing between them on a wide board, something ghastly, sodden and dripping. A female by the dress, and the lone white trailing hair. Edith did not need to look twice to know it was all that was left of poor Lois. Her face of horror was something frightful to see. "Why have you brought that here?" demanded Lord Disbro, meeting the men. "Take it away." "No! no!" gasped Edith, in a husky whisper. "Miss Altman bade us come, said one of the men respectfully. Rose shot forward, with her suspicious eyes aglitter. "I knew 1 was only proposing what Edith would approve," she said in her hard, chill voice. "It is the poor, drowned corpse of Whispering Lois." Edith, with both her hands clasped over hsr heart, saw nothing but that realisation of her long fear. She believed that Heathcote had done this awful thing. She had been vaguely looking from day to day, ever tunc Lois' disappearance, for some such discovery as this. She spoke without looking at anyone. "Where was it found." (To be continued).

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