The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-03-19 00:00:00

THE STOURBRIDGE OBSERVER.

one tainted by such crimes as her grandfather had

committed.
At all events, she must warn Du Vernay of her near
relationship to the old man he was about to despoil,
and entreat him to exercise caution and forbearance
toward hi a: for her sake. She refolded his letter, and
as she replaced it upon the table, a note which had
escaped her notice tell beneath her eye. It containad
a few lines from M. Mendon, which explained the ap-
pearance of the package :
MADEMOISELLE D URAN D, -I found at the post-office to-clay
the accompanying letter addressed to you, and I have taken the
liberty of taking it out, and forwarding it to you through the
hands of Pierre. I hope this speedy proof that your friends
over the water have not forgotten you, will brighten your life
in the dreary old pile to whose hospitality I so reluctantly con-
signed you. Remember, mademoiselle, that you have only to
hold out your hand, and it will be cordially grasped, and held
for ever as a precious treasure by your faithful
A DOLPHE MENDON.

With a shudder, Adrienne dropped these lines into
the fire, and as the paper blazed up, she chided her-
self for the feeling of repulsion which dictated the act.
M. Mendon had been most attentive to her, and why
should his thoughtful kindness in forwarding to her a
letter, which might otherwise have lain in the
obscure little post-office unclaimed for many days, he
received with such a thrilling sense of aversion? She
could not explain it; yet some intuition warned her
that he was one of whom she had better beware.
Exerting strong self-command, Adrienne compelled
herself to look around the room, and seeing nothing,
she arose and examined the fastenings of the doors, to
assure herself that no one could pass through them
without her permission. She then prepared to ref ly
to her lover. With an aching heart, and unsteady
hand, she wrote : •
DEAR VICTOR,—Your letter and its contents should have
filled me with delight, for you are coming to me—you have the
prospect of wealth before you • but, Silas I my evil fate renders
this revelation a bitterness, instead of a triumph and a joy to
me. Alas! alas! lam placed in a wretched position between
you and a miserable old man, whose life I vainly hoped to
render happier by sharing it. My poor Victor, how will you
feel when I announce to you that the M. Lecour you are about
to despoil of his ill-gotten wealth is my own grandfather? I
know this to be true, for the name of the lady he married
leaves me no room for doubt.
Dear Victor, see what a position I occupy. I sought this old
man; I thrust myself upon his hospitality, and demanded of
him shelter and protection, as the child of his only daughter;
he did not refuse it to me, and I am bound to abide by him in
such misfortune as threatens him now.
When I came hither, I fondly believed that I might render
myself useful to him, might soften that rugged nature which
had refused forgiveness to his dying child; but now I have no
such hope. Yet that conviction does not release me from the
duty I feel I have incurred toward this desolate old man. In
my favour he relaxed his usual severity; and I feel that I
have bound my fortune to his by accepting the shelter of his
roof.
heart bleeds as I write the sentence; but I know that the

My he...
decree which separates our lives has gone forth. Follow the
clue which leads you to fortune, and does justice to the heir of
a most unfortunate lady; for Madame Leconr was certainly
such; but in so doing, an impassable barrier must arise
between us. I must be true to the duty I have voluntarily
assumed; and you most also fulfil the one assigned you. Can
you not see yourself that from this point our paths diverge,
never more to meet?
Alas that it should be so; but inexorable truth places the
wretched fact before nte ; and I must prepare myself for the
bitter ordeal through which we are called top.
A fatal curse is upon this sinful old man, and I, as his de.
scendant, must share it. Only to-day I have had a terrible
and startling proof of it. He has been a man of violence and
blood, and the visible wrath of Heaven is upon him. I dare
not forsake him, for I feel that I belong to him, and him alone:
therefore, I entreat you, seek me no more. I free you from
your vows; I give you back your troth.
Adieu, Victor. I have tried to write without passion, though
I feel in the depths of my soul that I am the victim of the
crimes of another; and that other is so nearly bound to me by
ties of blood that I dare not repudiate the stain his evil deeds
have fixed upon me. I refuse to share the fortune of which he
will be stripped; for its loss will break his heart. It is just to
reclaim what he should never have appropriated; and I attach
no thought of blame to you. Perform your duty; but amid
justice remember mercy, for the sake of her who once called
herself your ADRIENNE.

Many times were the blinding tears dashed away
while she penned these lines, and at length, exhausted
by the various emotions of the day, Adrienne crept
into bed, and fell almost immediately into a heavy
Sieep.

(To be continued.)