New Ulm weekly review., 1886-12-01
thoughts far from the scene before
him, Lord .Chetwode at a distancesees


that would set me straight. Shall I
risk it again for a heavier sum, and
cry double or quits?''
Lord Chetwode walks quickly to the
table, lays his hand on Blake's shoul-
der, and says, pardon me if / wish to
be quits with you first. We will go
outside, that we may be quite alone"
Blake rises steadying himself as he
does so, and, haggard from shame and
remorse, follows Lord Chetwode from
the room to the gardens outside.
For wonder, they are deserted.
No sound breaks the stiffness Of the
night. Far up above, the moon is
EMBEDDING tender radiance over the
sinful earth beneath.
"Villain, where is my sister, Lord
Chetwode says to him passionately.
II decline to tell you"
II warn you not to tempt me too
far!''
''sir, the Blakes were never towards
to be frightened by threat -
s"Then am to understand that you
refuse to allow NE to rescue my sister
from the abyss of SIN into which you
have so remorselessly plunged her?'
''Not so fast, my friend; your sister
is quite content"
But before he has time to complete
his sentence, Lord Chetwode grasps
his revolver, and taking aim, fires de-
liberately at him. The bullet passes
through his heart, and Blake, finging
his arms wildly into the air, falls heav-
lily to the ground.
Not word escapes him, and when
he IS discovered later on, life is quite
extinct.
Lord Chetwode makes his way as
one in dream to his hotel. Going
upstairs, he hurries along tho corri-
dor, seeking his own room. The door
next to his happens to be open, and
in his agitation mistaking it for his
own, he walks in, not discovering his
mistake till the figure of a woman
seated at distant table recalls him
to himself
The woman, rising gently, turns to-
word him
As she does so, a faint cry escapes
her, and she clutches eagerly at the
chair near her, as though desirous of
support. Chetwode. going up, seizes her
by the arm. It is his sister-Lady
Mary Chetwode!
John" she cries. piteously stretch
ing out her hands, "Why are you
here?"
And taking a step forward, she sinks
fainting to the ground.
Lifting her gently, Chetwode places
her on the sofa; and as he gazes on
her beautiful face, now marked with
sorrow and suffering, all his love for
her returns, and pressing his lips to
her forehead, he murmurs, brokenly,
tenderly, 'My poor, poor girl!'
Presently she RECEIVERS conscious
ness; and, shrinking from him, buries
her face once more in the pillows of
the sofa.
Quietly gaming possession Of her
hands, he says, tenderly, Dearest
Mary, look up. My heart is full OF
love for you! Let US forget the past"
"It is impossible" she says bitterly.
Then anxiously and eagerly, she cries:
"You have met? Where is he? Oh,
what do l see in your face? 1t cannot
be that you have killed him?"
''It is even sol" Chetwode replies.
"Oh, miserable wretch that l am''
she cries, wildly. "First l ruin my
self, and now you, through me, have
become an assassin"
"Mary," Chetwode says firmly,
"calm yourself. Can'tyou realize that
while he lived there could be no hope
for you? Ihad looked forward to the
Staying OF HIM since the day he stole
you from me. 1t is but right that he
should answer for his sin in that 9th
er world, as he could not atone for it
in this"
"You have broken my hearth" she
says, sobbing bitterly.
only to save your soul, Mary.
Think no more OF one so utterly base,
degraded; and unworthy"
Days and weeks pass, during which
time Lady Mary's life lies in the bal
ance. Fever ensuing from her over
wrought brain, brings her to deaths
door; but with tender care and care
full nursing she rallies, and then, when
the doctors permit Lord Chetwode
AAsVNAASo OAA0 AAOCOooe1AJ eoA e"AAoSlAA0lAO Oo)1
they start for Biarritz, where Lady
Mary wishes to seclude herself for
some time. She looks even more
lovely in her misery.
She assumes a false name, and for
several years keeps entirely from the
world, leading@a very solitary life.
But can a lovely woman hide for
ever? No; and pity indeed could it
be so.
DEAREST JoHN:-I hope you do not at
tribute my long silence to forgetfulness-in
that you would be very wrong. had
nothing to tell you my life being very
much the same from day to day. Beyond
helping the poor in this parish and attend
ing church do literally othing. But even
in this, John dear, have been singularly
unfortunate. Hugh Maberly (our rector)
has chosen to fall in love with your poor
Mary, and only yesterday asked me to be
his wife. How could dare link my wretch
ed life with his pure and perfect one and be
happy? And yet if l lose him 1 lose all
that would make existence endura BILE! Give
me your advice. He loves me with all his
heart. Am to break it?"
''MY DEAR MARY:-I have just read your