The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1878-05-01

mute, clinging fashion, hoped she
! would rest well, and left her.
Not one word had been said about her
betrothal to the young man in the par
lor. Her claims had been wholly ig-
nored. Her cousin was likely not only
to rob her of her inheritance, but of her
husband also.
The young girl retired TO bed with a
feeling Of desolation at her heart which
may be easily imagined, and fell asleep
weeping bitterly for her old, happy In
dian life, when she was the idol of her
father and darling of her ayab.
She woke-or rather she struggled
back to consciousness--with these words
running through her mind" the result
being mysterious death, which no one
could account for"
1t was disagreeable remark to occur
to one in the middle of the night, and it
reused her to q preternatural wakeful-
ness.
She began to ponder over the events
OF the past evening, when suddenly
something struck her ear which sent all
the blood tingling to her heart.
1t was like the trailing of long mus
lin robe over the thick carpet, which
covered the floor, and q cautious rust
ling of paper; the one sound following
the other with the slow and regular
monotony of machine.
The night was at it's darkest, and the
head of the bed was in an alcove, so that
view Of the room could not be had;
but Dora OWNED with a choking of
the breath, the meaning of the strange
sounds.
Penelope Arlingford was in the room
Before she retired Dora had read
a chapter from large BiSie which lay
ON her table.
She perfectly recollected placing it on
the end of the sofa near the window
when she had finished reading it.
She felt that her rival was on her
knees before that book, impregnating
its leaves with the "volatile poison"
which Walter Gary had spoken of, and
that as she finished each leaf, and turned
1t slowly over, her long muslin sleeve
swept the edge of the book, making the
stealthy sounds which had aroused her
intended victim.
Dora lay bound hand and foot by a
feeling which almost stopped the beat
ing of her heart
Remember. she had grown Tip amid
scenes of passion and violence; she had
be en- among the helpless ones at Gavin
pore, when the Sepoys massacred their
victims in cold blood; and death was not
80 strange weapon in the hands of
young girl, to her, as it would be TO us;
nay, it seemed the one weapon by
Which Penelope 'Arlingford would most
likely strike for love and wealth.
Motion lpoo har arac
cold dew of agony dripping from every
limb, the orphan girl lay and listened to
this evidence of treachery.
All at once, board at the side of the
bed creaked, as though wary foot was
passing over it, and the long swish of
the garments followed.
Then the door softly burst open as if
without hand, a flow of air from the
passage rushed across the girls rigid
face, and she heard amid the suffocating
throbbings in her ears, the first crow of
some neighboring chanticleer.
Her terror ended in a swoon.
When she came to herself it was broad
daylight.
The golden sunshine was lying across
her pillow, and the perfumes of the red
honeysuckle came in through the open
window and filed the pretty chamber.
All seemed innocence and peace
around her, but the soul of the orphan
girl was filled with astonishment.
She could scarcely arrange her
thoughts at first, so terrible was the
ordeal through which she had passed
but at length she saw that she must
leave the house Immediately that she
must relinquish both her affianced and
her fortune, if she would feel her life
safe.
"Oh, papa my papa p wept poor
Dora, you have made a terrible mis-
take r.
When she joined the family, in answer
to the breakfast bell, she was in her
travelling dress, and her trunks were all
repacked.
"Why, cousin Dora, what is the mat
ter? Are you i'll, dear? ?" exclaimed
Penelope, in a soft, cooling voice, which
seemed habitual to her.
Dora turned her back ON her midnight
visitor, and striving to speak calmly,
said to Mr.. Arlingford "I wish to go
to London to-day, sir. Please allow
some one to drive me to the station"
There was a pause of CONSERVATION,
then they all with one accord began to
plead with her to change her mind, and
noneof the three were SO urgent and
tender about it as Penelope.
Just try us, dear cousin |" she en-
treated. "Of course you will be lonely
at first-everything is so different-but
who will make you happier than we can ?
Has anybody offended you, dear Dora ?"
"No, answered Dora, shuddering
" but 1 shall prefer living alone"
You are so young, so ignorant of the
ways of our towns, said quiet Mrs. Ar
lingfOrd, here Ginning in anxiously, "it
is a mad thing for you to think of,
child"
81 must co. responded the orphan,
averting her pallid face that the dark
misery of it might not be seen.