The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-05-14 00:00:00

to devote hinase'lf to tiie service of the Church."

"And he is actually the father of the young girl
who acne up the river with us?' was the breathless
inquiry of Madame Cro7at. 'lt is incredible !"
'Yes—so it seems to me; yet I do not doubt that
he is really Julien Durand."
"Then of course he must be her father, if she is
reallY the granddaughter of M. Lecour."
"U, certainly, but on that doubt hangs the whole
mystery. I feel in my own mind the assurance that
Adrienne is what we first supposed her to be—the
Child of Louise Montreuil. I have a right to believe
this, for I have had supernatural assurance of it given
to Inc in the most extraordinary manner."
• Madame Crozet looked incredulous.
Do not permit your natural good sense to be
Clouded by superstitious fancies, my son; tell me how
such an impression came to be made upon you?"
M. Mendon hesitated a moment, uncertain how to
account for his presence at Bellair without betraying
the motive which had taken him thither. At length
he said—
" I was seized with a strong desire to visit the
old clelteau the night before last, and I availed my-
self of the knowledge of a private entrance, constructed
long ago by the orders of my brother, to get in and
explore the house. I had the vague hope that I might
see Mademoiselle Adrienne in her nocturnal wanderings,
for you remember that she betrayed upon the boat
'hat she is a somnambulist."
" And were you rewarded for your night ride by a
glimpse of her ?"
" I was; I saw her cross the corridor that runs
through the house, but I did not dare to betray my
presence. I watched her till she ascended the stair-
case and entered her own room."
"Well—and the ghost? Where did you meet
that ?"
"As I passed through the long dark hall on my way
towards the entrance, my mind was so deeply
absorbed that I unconsciously uttered aloud the query •
we have been so anxious to solve. You will scarcely
believe me, although I assert it in the most solemn
Manner that I was answered, and in such a Way as to
confirm my belief in Adrienne's descent from the
Montreuil family. Nay—more than that, I saw the
white phantozn flit before me across a faint line of
Moonlight that fell through a crevice in one of the
Shutters"
"And you really believe that you have seen the
Spirit of Louise Mention ?" was the incredulous inquiry
that followed.
" What else could it be? it was her voice that spoke
In my ear, so close that it seemed as if I could almost
feel her breath upon my cheek."
"And the form? did it resemble hers ?"
"The light was too faint to determine; besides
It seemed to be wrapped in flowing folds of white
drapery..
"Of course, the legendary costume of the im-
palpable sisterhood would be assumed. If the voice
of Louise Montreuil spoke in your ear, she is living,
aft I have long suspected."
M. Mendon regarded her with amazement.
"Louise living, and I not know it! Impossible!
She would never have concealed her existence from
Me. What are your grounds for such a belief,
Madame mere ?"
"Only trifles that have come to my knowledge,
'which I have dovetailed together from a theory of
tr'Y own. One thing is certain, that if she is yet on
our earth, Dr. Brunel knows all about it, for he res-
cued her from the river when she plunged into it in a
fit of despair. It was whispered then that she had been
resuscitated by his efforts, but, resolute not to return
to her tyrannical husband, she induced the doctor to
aid her to deceive him by giving her a potion which
would enable her to assume the appearance of death.
You were away during those years, and on your return
she may not have thought it safe to confide in you.
Mind, I do not assert that Louise Mendon is living,
hit I certainly believe that if she spoke to you in her
natural tones on that night, she did so in the flesh
and not as an impalpable spirit."
"And if she lives, the estate will belong to her, and
not to Adrienne," said M. Mendon in a tone of chagrin
Which betrayed how much more he regarded the
Property than either his sister-in-law or her
daughter.'
' Madame Crozat looked at him with a hard smile.
She coldly said—
" If money is the great incentive to this match,
terhaps it will be well to keep a hold on my step.
daughter till you are certain of the quarry at which
l'ou aim. Do not risk a certainty for an uncertainty,
_
or Pauline had letters trom France last night, in-
forming, her of the successful issue of her suit, and in
Pace of gkiining two hundred and fifty thousand
francs, she will be mistress of nearly half a million."
M. Mendon listened with evident eagerness.
"Pauline is handsome and at times engaging, but
/111 will be-inclined to exact a slave's service for the
enjoyment of her wealth; the young and ductile
Adrienne could be moulded to my will."
"Perhaps so, if she was very much attached to you,
Which she evidently is not, or she would have accepted
My protection when it was offered to her, with the
distinct intimation that she could win you for her
Iniqoand by so doing. Adrienne has a spirit of her
Own, and she will never be ruled by a man to whom
Policy induced her to give her And. Am I right in
Lily supposition that for the mysterious service you
4ve performed for Father Eustace, his reputed
daughter is to be the reward?"
" ith your usual acuteness you have fathomed
the truth, madame. Once mine, I shall, as you lately
”sured me, know how to win the affections of my
bride, however reluctantly she may accept me."
"I trust it may prove so, but still keep fair with
.r.a.uline till your success is beyond question. Some-
'mug tells me that she is the surest card for you to
And something equally reliable assures me that
Adrienne is now within my grasp, and I will not
easily relinquish my hold upon her fate."
Madame Crozet smiled faintly, but she had no time
to reply before the priest joined them.
__She gravely presided at their hurried breakfast, and
Tient y waited for some intimation from Father
!I:ustare of the new inmate he expected to introduce
into,e her family that day. Just as they were leaving
n ..olitented himself with saying—
'l shall be compelled to claim your hospitality for
• Young friend of mine for a few days, madame; I
truq; she will find a welcome?"
"The b at I can give, father, is at the disposal of
any friend brought hither by you,' was the bland res-
ponse, though in her heart Madame Crozat was jealous
of the influence the priest seemed suddenly to have
acquired over her step-son.
Pauline came from her room in time to hear the
directions given. She asked with a sneer—
" Who.. is the room to he used by, madame mere? Is
the young stranger at Castle Dismal expected to become
its occupant ?"
'I believe she is," replied Madame Crozat, drily.
A laugh of exultation came from Pauline's lips, and
she said—
" I will lay you a wager, madame, that she does not
come hither to-day, or any other day."
"What can you mean, Pauline?"
"Just what I have said. I have warned M. Lecour
Of the project on foot to unite the fortunes of the
daughter of Louise Montreuil with the poverty of
} our step-son, and if he is not quite mad, he will re-
move her beyond the reach of those who have specu-
lated on her chances of stripping him of his wealth.
There, madame, I think I have redeemed my pledge,
and used the information I gained for my own pur-
Poses, as I warned you I would."
"And how have you obtained such information as
this ?'' sternly asked the elder lady.
"Partly from my own wit, but chiefly from the
revelations of Leonie. Lid you think me so shallow
as to repeat to you what she really said? No—l re-
served that for the person most deeply concerned in
learning it, M. Lecour himself."
"And have you actually endangered the existence
of this Poor child, by revealing to that old tiger what
may induce him to take away her lilts.? Pauline, I
cannot believe that even you would do such a thins
as that."
Pa
said—
uline became slightly paler, but she vindictively
. "I have done so, and neither do I believe that such
tatal results will ensue. You only wish to frighten
me, madame."
Madame Crozet scarcely paused to hear her con-
cluding words. Her mind was rapidly acting on what
6„11.,,e had just heard, and she hurried from the room,
ered the swiftest horse in the stable to be saddled,
knd "`u
by the time it was brought to the door with a
:4-grown negro mounted on him, she had ready a
"°te, in which she had written:
d. Leccrur has been warned of Adrienne's real position.
Lee" not a moment in reaching Bellair, for she has already
rn„,4 too long left to the mercy of that hard-hearted old
,s
!_t_er. I cannot explain now, but you may rely on the
`l4°Y of my information. LUC/LLZ CROZAT.
~‘ "
ahe boy was ordered ,to gallop at the top of his
tyeed on the road toward Bellair, till he overtook the
ttly° gentlemen who had so lately left. He did not
eeumplish this till after five miles had been passed
„
for the two equestrians had not loitered by the
„,ay !hem:elves. They had checked their horses to
72_10w them a breathing sped, and thus the messenger
was enabled to come up with them.
u Father Eustace seemed more deeply moved than
'll4l- His lips trembled, and his voice grew husky
as he said— I.
" Let us on, in God's name! and if any evil has
aPPened to her, a double reckoning will be demanded
ht his hands."
.._"1:11!3 horses were again put at full speed, and the re-
.4.e.itu
og distance rapidly passed over. The sun had

risen aoove tue crowding tree-tops when they gained
the neglected woodland that surrounded the château.
The broken gateway afforded them free ingress, and
the two rode without slacking their speed to the steps
leading to the front door. Their loud summons
brought Eady to the door, and she inquired, in
trembling tones—
" Who's out dar a-knockin'r

"It is I, Eady! Opeit'-to me speedily, or I shall be
tempted to break down your door !" responded M.
Mendon.

" Oh ! Marse Adolphe, you's jes' come in de time
you was mos' wanted, for my ole man aint got no
sense lof', he's so scared of de marster ; an' I ain't
much better myself."
While she thus maundered on, Eady unlocked the
door, and revealed her own face, with that pale,
dusky shading upon it, which in the black always
betrays the extremity of terror.
"What has happened, Eady ? Nothing, I trust, that
can injure Mademoiselle Durand ?"

"Oh, Lor' ! I don' know—l don' know; but she
ain't in her room, an' I couldn't fine her, I 'spect, ef
I had de time to look arter her, caze de marater's
took so bad, he keeps me tendin' on him every
minute."

"Take us up to M. Lecour at once," [mid the priest,
with authority.
"He ain't in no state to reject to any one comitt up
now," said Eady, in a disconsolate tone. "I reckin
you may as well foliar me upstairs to onst."

- M. L-ecour tossed from side to aide on his couch
every instant, and his livid, foaming lips and col-
vulsed features, showed that be was suffering in-
tensely. The visitors chew near him, looked down on
the revolting spectacle he presented, and Father
Eustace sternly said---
"Where is the young lady who was left sleeping
last night, when we removed your prisoner from this
house? Did not my warning suffice to show you how
dangerous to you it would be to attempt any wrong
to wards her"

It wai evident that M. Lecour retained perfect con-
sciousness; he lifted his head defiantly, and hoarsely
muttered—

"If I have been baffled by your cunning, you shall
be go in your turn. Seek the girl till you find her,
and see then how much /regarded your threats."
Fierce and bitter hatred gleamed in the eyes of the
the two who steadily regarded each other.

The eye of the piiest-fell on the scarred hand from
which the bandages had been torn in his violent
struggles, and be asked, with a shudder—

" What does that mean? How didyou receive that
wound ?"

"it means death—death in its most ghastly shape.
Bow did I receive it, ha? In the defence of an in-
grate, and yet you come to me to exact retribution
for the fate she richly merited. Go—find the
dread truth for yourself, I shall not reveal it; and
you, Adolphe Mendon, are baffled in the hope that
brought you hither. The heiress of Bellair is now
with her mother in a realm widely severed from
this."

"Dead i" txclaimed Father Eustace, becoming very
pale. "Old man, you have not dared to commit this
last crowning horror of your detestable life ?"
"I dare anything. Look—look, learn what I have
done, and then release me from this torment.'
" Wretch ! do you know what you have done?
Was it not enough for you to imbue your hands in
the blood of my only brother? but must this child
also meet her doom at your hands? Know that I
am Julien Durand, once the husband of your un-
happy daughter. Miserable man! have you brought
your crimes to a climax by taking a life you were
bound to protect by every law of humanity and
justice."
M. I.ecour half arose, and regarded the speaker
with a ghastly expression of mingled fear and de-
fiance.

Don't, don't say that she was mine; no, no! she
was the daughter of Henri and Louise, not yours—not
yours. Julien Durand, I hate and defy you now as
deeply as when I thrust my daughter from me because
she wedded you."
"And you will give me no clue to what has be-
come of Adrienne?"

" Never I seek her as I before bade you, and learn
the vengeance of which I am capable. She would
have palmed herself upon me as mine, but I know
now that she was not. You may be Julien Durand,
the husband of Estelle, but the ingrate I have dis-
posed of as she deserves, is certainly no child of hers
or yours. She bears her mother too plainly in the
face to admit a doubt of her origin."
The voice of M. Lecour sounded husky and hollow,
but it was quite distinct; and the two visitors looked
at each other in appalled silence. It was evident that
noting could be gained from him, and M. Mention
said—

"L tus search the house. Adrienne must be found
somewhere in it."

'Ay, she will be found in it!" repeated M. Lecour,
with mocking emphasis, but the words died away in
a gurgle in his throat, his form writhed, and his
features became fearfully distorted with the spasms
thit again attacked him.
The priest recognised the symptoms, and he said, in
accents of horror—

"He is suffering from hydrophobia, and the wound
upon his hand is explained. Do not stand near enough
to him to be injured, for his malice is deep enough to
impel him to make an effort to impart the deadly
virus to you. Let us proceed upon our search."
Pierre remainod to witness the tortures he had no
power to alleviate, and Eady, with a broken and dia.
mayed expression, led the way into the opposite
tower. Adrienne's portfolio lay open on the table, ansi
the letter which had so mysteriously bees placed
within it, was lying upen the leaves. The candle had
burned down to the socket, but there was no evidence
that the young girl had been in her bed the previous
night.
Her shawl and hood lay in a chair, and if, as they
now hoped, she had wandered away in a state of som-
nambulism, she had evidpntly gone without their pro-
tection from the cold night air.
Eady opened the door of the private staircase and
showed them through the lower rooms, but they found
there no trace of her they sought. As they passed
the door of the picture room on their way to the body
of the house, M. Mendon said—
"Let us enter this first; it is useless to explore the
other apartments before we have examined these ex-
terior rooms,"

- "You'd better not, Marse Adolphe. You'd better
not. It's a fearsome place in thar, an' de great dog
what stays in it is dangerous. He hasn't been rampin'
dis mornilf, mores de wonder, for he jes' fills de bowie
wi' his yowlings 'bout half de time."
Fat her Eustace paused, and decisively said—
"It is my will to go in here now. Is the door
locked ?"
"In course it is. He'd never leave dat place open
to nobody, I reckin."
"Go up, then, and get the key.*
After a few vain attempts at remonstrance Eady
obeyed, and the two stood in gloomy silence until she
returned. She said—
"I thought the marster would ha' bin ravin' mad at
seem' me bring de key away, but he kinder larfed, for
de fits off'n him now, when I took it up, an' he tole
me to say dat he wanted you to 'port to him what you
found in thar. Oh me! I'm dreffly afraid it's some-
thin' awful."
With a feeling of nervous trepidation, M. Mendon
thrust the key into the lock, and discovered that it
had already been turned back. Dreading what the
next instant might reveal, he threw the door back
with a crash, and the light from the entry fell within
the dim room,
Eady sprang forward with a cry, and seized a free
merit of the black robe which Adrienne had worn the
previous day; this was hanging from the mouth of the
bloodhound,whose strong and agile form lay stiffened
in death. A struggle had evidently taken place, for
the table was overturned upon him, and the priest,
who was a good chemist, decided at once that the
hound had been suddenly placed hors die combat by
having prussic acid thrown upon his head, which had
instantly destroyed him. Fragments of the broken
glass were scattered upon the floor, that still retained
th scent of the bitter almonds from which the deadly
fluid had been d'stil'ed, and the hair upon the scaip
of the luckless beast was completely destroyed by ita
corrosive action.

The priest spoke in stern, compressed tones—
"l now understand the use that was made of her
key. In a state of unconsciousness, Adrienne was
lured from her room, and that old miscreant upstairs
suffered her to walk upon what he believed must
prove her destruction. She has been providentially
aided to escape, and I trust this dead brute was not
first permitted to injure her. I see no evidence of
such a catastrophe"
Eady arose, and clasping the fragment of black
serge to her heart, she hysterically said—
Thank de Lor' for all his mercies, au' dis is about
de greatest on 'em yit. Yes—she's safe, she's safe, I
knows she is.,
"Yes, but where is she? That is now the ques-
tion that must be solved, for I must find her, and
pla-e her under proper protection."
In defiance of the efforts made to obtain informa-
tion from hr, Eady eluded every question, or boldly
asserted her ignorance of what had actually occurred,
and they finaly pt.rmitted her to return to M. Lecour
chamber.
M. Mendon knew every nook, and after a thorough
search they als returned, disappeinted and angry to
the chamber of M. Lecour.
Be had pasied into an interval of ease, and his
malicious eyes .parkled as they came in, looking crest-
fallen and annoy ed. Be asked—
" Ah, ha! did you find her torn and mangled, with
her beauty marred, and life gone from her, as she
richly merited? Oh! that she could have suffered
some of the pangs that now rack me, before death
claimed her; it would have been just retribution for
her treachery to me —who wouH have made her
queen of France. Ay—queen of the greatest nation
on earth, if she had only been true to me. But she
betrayed me, and I gave her to death."
" But she has not perished." said Father Eustace,
with stern gravity. We found no trace of Adr orate
Durand, save the fragment of the drtsq she wore
hanging from the mouth of tbe bloodhound into
whose jaws you betrayed her. The dog lay dead,
slain evidently in her defence. Providence-sent-steno
one tol3ler i eicue, and she has been removed trona this
house y her preserver."
As he listened, M. Lecour slowly arose to a sitting
posture, looking more like a galvanised corpse than a
living man. The purple flush upon his face became
of a leaden pallor, and his lips moved without the
power to articulate a sound