The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1878-02-13
with choking of the breath, the meaning


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
Cray had spoken of, and that as she finished
each leaf. and turned il slowly over her Bong
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 beating of her
heart.
Remember she had grown up amid scenes
of passion and violence; she had been among
the helpless ones at Cawnpore when the
Sepoys massacred their victims in cold
blood; and death was not so strange a
weapon in the hands of young girl, to her,
as it would be to us; nay, it seemed the one
weapon by which Penelope Arlington
would most likely strike for love and
wealth.
dew of agony dripping from her every limb,
the orphan girl lay and listened to this evil
dence of treachery.
All at once board at the side of the bed
creaked, as though a wary foot was passing
over it, and the long swish of the garments
followed.
Then the door softly burst open as If
without hands, 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 neighborlng
chanticleer.
Her terror ended in a swoon.
When she came to herself it was broad
daylight.
The golden sunshine was lying across ner
pillow, and the rich perfume of honeysuckle
came in through the open window and filed
the pretty chamber.
All seemed peace and innocence 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, papal my papal' wept poor Dora,
''you have made terrible mistakel'
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 matter?
Are you i'll, dear?" exclaimed Penelope, in
soft, cooling voice, which seemed habitual TO
her.
Dora turned her back on her midnight
visitor, and striving 10 speak calmly. said to
Mr.. Arlingford, Il wish 10 go to London to-
day, sir. Please allow some one to drive me
| to the station"
There was pause of CONSERVATION, then
they all with one accord began to plead with
her to change her mind, and none of the
| three were so urgent or so tenderly loving
about il as Penelope.
"Just try us, dear cousinp she entreated.
| ''Of course you will be lonely at first-every-
| thing is so different: but who will make you
! you, dear Dora%'
NO" answered Dora, shuddering; "but l
shall prefer to live alone"
"YOu are so young so ignorant of the ways
Of our towns" said quiet Mrs. Arlingford,
here Ginning in anxiously. ut is a mad
| thing for you to think of. child"
81 must CO." responded the orphan, avert
| ing her pallid face that the dark misery OF 1T
might not be seen.
| So, when the persuasions of himself and
| the pleadlngs and tears of his women availed
| not. Mr.. Arlingford got offended and cried,
"Let her please herself, Pensie. Ring and
order Sam to bring the carriage around"
| Dora swallowed a cup of tea. and choked
down a morsel of bread and then she went
back to her room to put on her hat
| Locking the trunks took but few mo-
| ments.
| She flung herself upon a chair and wept
silently, feeling herself to be the most desc
| late and friendless being on the face of the
earth.
| What should she do in London?
| Go to her fathers lawyer and tell him she
did not wish to marry Walter Cray, then live
| alone in such lodgings as the remnant OF her
fortune could afford her.
| An it was indeed terrible mistake, that
| clause in the will.
But into the midst of her musings stole a
| sound which thrilled her once more with
awe.
| The swish of garment, the rustic of q
| paper Just as it aroused her last night
Dora gszed about her like one bereft of
reason.
| The large old Bible lay quiet enough, and
| closed exactly where she had placed it-no
living thing was in the room but herself
| And then she saw the whole mystery.
The window was partly open and slight
| puff of wind had blown the crisp, white cur
tains in the room: then receding had sucked
| them outward through the aperture, while
| the imprisoned air. running up the blind
had caused the tissue paper hanging at the
| top to rustic.
There came another puff-the trail of the
curtain over the carpet the rustic of the pa
| per hanging.
Dora sat gazing at the window, her face, in
its astounding thankfulness. study for an
artist
At this moment Penelope came In. She
had evidently been weeping.
The carriage is ready, dear cousin" sigh
| ed she tremulously.
Dora passed her hand over her forehead
then facing her rival, asked in hurried
| tone, "Were you up last night at any
| time, Miss Arlingford?"
YES" answered Penelope in surprise,
''about o'clock rose and shut my window.
The wind was rising"
"Did you hear a cock crow as you did sop
"Yes, did. Why do you ask, dear? Stay;
know why! You vert frightened by hear
| ing board creak beside your bed | should
have told you about that board; how stupid
of mer'
II heard board cresk, said Dora scarcely
believing her own ears.
"Yes, it ought to be fastened down. 1t
runs the whole breadth of the house, and
when l tread on one end of il in my room
| the other end creaks in this Listen!" 4.
She ran across the passage, shutting the
| door after her. and in a moment the vertable
creaking commenced, accompanied by the
clicking of the latch of the door, which had
so petrifed Dora.
When the young lady returned the ex-
preston OF her cousins features was so
| nightly altered that she exclaimed, "Why