, 1889-04-18
CHAPTER XIII.


ment which had ever come into NanC 7
Earle's life. when she stood tightly
clasped in the arms of the man who love,i
her, the man she loved. and learned the
true story of the terrible murder which
had taken place in Walmsbury barracks;
when she learned with shame and anguish
that it was no other than tho last of her
proud race who had done this damnabl&
and cowardly deed.
She was so ashamed That was the key
note of her thOughtS-shamc, only shame
Although she had not known it, She had
been proud of her faith and trust in the
man she loved-she had unconsciOusly
been thrilled with a delightful sense of
pleasure in her own brave faithfulness,
which could stand up, though all the
world should be against him and all the
evidence of circumstances might copspire
to do him to death, and yet say: Il love
this mani believe in him-he is incapa
BILE of this vile thing that is laid to his
charge"
Yes, there had been something grand
and noble in her love, and she had felt
that, come what might in the after years,
he could and would always feel that the
woman he loved had never wavcred in her
trust of himI And then. after all, to find
out that lac had kept silence for her sake
and for that of the old father who had
borne his good name as 4 bright jewel to
be guarded and treasured. that he had
kept silence IN the face of charge which
could, and most probably would, cling to
him all the rest of his life. Oil it was q
bitter. bitter blow to the girl who had been
reared in pride, and whose training had
been one of honor.
In those few minutes of reflection she
went back over the years of the past, the
years during which she had willingly
stood on one side for her younger brother
because he was the last of the Earles. be
cause he was boy and she was only q
Girl-a girl-a thing of no particular i'm
Portance, and though she was an Earle
like Kim. yet she was an Earle who did
not count. There was no thought. or
roocl for such in her mind of Ditv for
any temptation which might have led him
TO do this horrible thing-sho had no feel
ing of mercy toward him. Oh. no. only Il
wild, indignant sor: of rage possessed her
that he should have stained and suilicd
the fair name he bore, and have put upon
his living relatives q shame which .hcy
must carry with them to the grave.
Shc broke from the clasp of Jim's arms
Gad turned to the window, wherc she
stood looking out upon the square, speech
| less from anger, and a whirl of hot indin
nant thoughts chasing one another
through her mind; and at last she turned
back to where he was still standing
You must tell my father" she said,
decidedly. ''YeS-yes-l know all that
you would say. But | am doing what
know he would like best if he knew 1t
will be an awful blow to him, but he
would never forgive me if he found out
that had kept such 4 thing from him. "
beautiful Jim shook his head
81 will not tell him. ho said, firmly
In the face of suspicion he has trusted
me. and ] viii not reward him i'll that
way, could not, my darling. even fol
You
but if he were TO find out, she began
Then ho never must find it out" re
! joined jim, firmly WHO Is to tell him.
Il will, said Nancy.
1T will be his death blow-it will xii
him! He has always been the best o:
| fathers 70 you, and for the sake of thal
yOung"-he broke an ugly word off hero
| and substituted q milder one for it
that young idiot. would you reward hin
thus! No, my child, am sure you vii
see that it cannot bel Besides, he is so ol,
| and we are young We can wait littl,
for each other"
And he is to go on Ia his wickedncs
unpunished, holding his head as high 4
he WIZ" she exclaimed.
jim could not help smiling as he r,
| membcred Tommy's piteously abject 81
ON the evening before poor dear old Owen.
funeral at Walmsbury.
Tho poor young begSar Is not holdin:
his head very high. my dearest" he said
gently. Besides. for the sake of you.
father, We can leave his punishment to =;
higher VIII than ours"
is it possible that you havo any pity
for himT" she cried, iucfeduiously.
Yes, that have" Jim answered. III
is no light matter to have murder on youI
mind, and he doesn't look as if hc founC
il 90"
'Ah! you doa't know him, Nancy CRIED
Il do. He is like an india rubber ball
while you hold him tight he is crushcl
and quiet, but once release your grip o.
him and he is as full of bounce as eEeG
If lie. KNOWS that yGU know, | can well be
lievc that ho IS humble and ahiect to you
That has been his way out of difficulty anc
danger ever since he was boy-a baby
but now that he is out OF your sight
would not mind stalking my very life thh;
he is flirting with one Of the Leslie girl
at this moment"
Not ut this moment" said Jim, sril
inS sadiy. ''if YOU would be very accurate
about it." '...'''' 81. 80.
She flushed up angrily all over her fail
face.
Il can not understand you." she cried
''Ile was your friend your best friend
Al vet you willingly let his assassin &,
free-you'-
Don't you understand that your DrC,''' Tar
is sacred 10 mc?" Jim asked, graveIy
"For himself, for hrs sake, ] would not
have held my hand one moment, and he
knows it. Right willingly and cheerfully
would l see him hanged O-morrow-nay
this very day"
Nancy shuddered at tho dreadful word
but she did not attempt to speak, and Jim
went on.
But lie is your brothcr-that made him.
safe from me III the first instance; now,
since your father has shown ne such trust
and generosity, | could not betray him cx-
Cept TO save my own life; even then it.
would be a hard task for me to be com
PEELED to speak"
And then poor Nancy broke down alto
gether, and began to weep bitterly and
passionately, and somehow Jim got his
arms round her again aud drew her head
down upon his breast, soothing her Us if
she were weary child in distress.
There, there, my darling, don't cry
so, lie muTmUrCd At least let us vail
little while and see what happens. We
arc young. and il may only be Ett,'
ITO BE CONTINUED