The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1885-04-01

~ tp " S1II. L was
breaking the law concealing what
the law calls a crime; doing all 1 could
to save the criminal. But the crimi-
nal was Philippa. and l loved her! 1
myself would have stood face to face
with Sir Mervyn Ferrand, and have
freely given my OWN life if 1 could
have assured his dying like the dog he
was. Why then should l blame Phil
ippa, who had done it in her temporary
madness what I would have done in
cold blood? Yet why trouble to extern
uate? l loved her! Those words sum
up everything.
The morning dawned. No fatal
messenger had arrived. l glanced
hastily at the papers. which, however,
contained no more information about
the tragedy. Shortly after ten o'clock
we started to drive to Charing Cross.
The rattle of wheels over the stones
seemed to send freso life through my
veins. We were off on the road to
safety.
Westarted in plenty of time, as I
wished to call at my bankers on the
way. 1t was my intention to take
with me a large sum in gold. Notes of
any kind could he traced, but the
bright sovereigns would tell no tale.
l changed my check, and while doing
so asked if there were any letters for
me. Several persons addressed letters
to me at my bankers. The spruce
cashier sent to inquire, and. with my
bag of gold, passed under the brass
wi re railing Il letter with a woman's
handwriting on the envelope. 1 thrust
Il into my pocket, to read at my lels-
urc.
We travelled by the tidal train tor
Paris ria Folkestone and Boulogne.
1t was not the p%leasantest weather
in the world for a journey; but I
wrapped my charges up warmly, and
did all l could to mitigate the hard
ships of the voyage, undertaken osten-
sibly for the sake of my health. My
mother, who was by now an expe-
rienced and seasoned traveller, settled
herself down to the journey, although
she little guessed how short the rest |
meant to give her until wereached our
destination. She laughingly protested
against the cruelty of dragging an old
woman like herself away from Eng
ard just as she had returned to it; but
here was that in her voice and man.
ner which told me she would for III!
sake make a far greater sacrifice o.
comfort than this.
thought that Philippa's spirits like
mine, rose as we left London behind
us. She smiled at our sallies and fee
bic attempts at making merry, which:
that now we were fairly on our road
to safety, were not quite so forced as
they had heen during thelast few days.
She listened with interest to the pic
lures I drew-immaginary ones, OF
course-of the beauties Of the south;
and I was glad to believe that the
thought of visiting what might al
most be called her native land was
beginning to awaken her interest.
Only let me be able to show her
that life could still promise a pleasant
future. and the moody memories OF
the past months might be banished
forever.
I am sure that no one who could
have seen us that morning would have
dreamed that out ofthat party of three
consisting of a comfortable, pleasant
looking English matron, a strangely
beautiful girl, and myself, two were
lying from the hands of justice. Our
appearance was certainly such as to
1isarm all suspicion. but where are
we going?:' asked my mother. 81 OBJ
iect to go wandering about without
showing where our pilgrimage is to
end"
1--WE are going to Paris first, then to
Spain-to wherever we can find
warmth and sunshine which is neceS-
sary to my existence. Ii wen can't
ind them in Spain, we will cross over
20 Africa, and, if needful, go down to
The equator
"Then you young people will have
20 90 alone. 1 draw the line of my
good nature at Europe"
1 glanced at Philippa. Her long
curved lashes hid her eyes; but a tell.
tale blush was on her cheek. l knew
that the day was not so very distant
when she would answer my appeal
rs l wished. l knew that, could 1 but
sweep away the record Of that one
night, all might yet be well with her:
On that she may never recall what l
alone know!
AS we were nearing Folkestone !
remembered the letter which had been
given me at the bank. 1 drew it from
nv breast, intending to read it; but the
sight of the Roding post mark on the
outside made me change my intention.
1 remembered Mrs. Wilson's half
promise to send me OH communlca-
ton. 1 longed and yet [ dreaded to
break the seal. I felt it would be
better for me to read that letter alone.
Whatever might be the tenor of its
contents, 1 was sure it had some bear
ing on Philippa's relations with Sir
Mervyn Ferrand.
We we've soon on board the steamer
and under weigh Although the Arctic
rigors of the last three weeks had de-
parted, the air on the sea vas too keen
TO MAZE the channel passage an enjoy
able one. 1 persuaded my mother
and Philippa to take refuge in the sa-
loon; and then l found Il quiet spot
where 1 was able to read my letter
without fear or interruption, or of
b~etraying myself by the emotion its
contents might cause. 1t was well I
did SO, for the first words blair ched my
cheek. The letter began abruptly, so:
Il know or guess all. 1 know why
Sir Mervyn Ferrand did not reach my
house that night. 1 know why she
left my home before you came to seek
her. know how lie met with the
death he deserved.
"Ah! she is Drawer than [ am She
has done what years ago I swore !
would do; and yet / had not the cour-
age. ! was base enough to fcrego re-
venge for the sake Of the beggarly
maintenance he offered me-for the
sake. perhaps. of my children.
"Fear nothing for your sister, if SIZE
be your sister. Tell her my lips are
sealed to the death; and for the sake
of her brave act tell her this.
"Sir Mervyn Ferrand's first wife died
on the 18Th Of lane, 7SG-, three
! months before the day on which he
married your sister. She died at Liver
pool, at No. ) Silver street. She was
buried in the cemetery under the
name of Lucy Fcrrand. She has
friends alive. 1t will be easy to prove
that she was the woman whom he
married. Her maiden name YVES King.
| lie hated her. They palted. lie gave
her a sum of money On condition that
! she never called herself his wife. He
lost sight of her. l never did
I told him of her death; but I
changed the date. 1 would not tell
him where she died. Part of his OBJ