The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-10-09
CHAPTER XIV.
WITHOUT DISGUISE.

Adele st. Cyr recovered from her
unconscious state, and from that hour
began slowly but surely to improve.
Perhaps the news of Mark Alleyne's
strange marriage, duly repeated to her
by her mother, might have had some
thing to do with her recovery. But
she grew gradually better.
One day she received an anonymous
letter-a letter in strange, cramped
hand, which contained these words:
MISS LAWRENCE: Arthur Wynne is not
dead. He still lives. but is keeping out OF
sight for the present for purposes OF his own.
Bo of good cheer; he is living, and while
there is life there is hope.
That was all; but it was enough for
the girls heart to feed upon and nour-
ish wild, mad hope
"He lives!" she painted fierce1y, a
bright crimson sufusing her pale
cheeks, and her eyes shining like stars.
He is living, and while there is life
and-hope-I will never give him up.
will never relinquish the hope in my
heart of winning his love some day. l
,an wait; his love is worth waiting for. !"
Her recovery henceforth was rapid.
She had confided everything to her
mother, and Gabrielle, too, was full of
wild hope that Adele would yet sue
reed in capturing this man, whom she
desired above all others to become her
daughters husband And then, if any
thing came between them and the
Lawrence fortune, il. any unforeseen
chance should wrest 1t from their grasp,
they would have the Wynne fortune to
fall back upon.
Adele entered the drawing-room one
morning to find it occupied by Sir
Arthur Stanley. She fell back with a
half uttered exclamation at sight OF
the man whom, for some inexplicable
reason, she both feared and hated.
The baronet stood smiling and bowling
before her; she was forced to advance
into the room. He took her hand in
his for moment.
II have called, Miss Lawrence" he
began, "to bid you farewell, as l am
about to start for my native land. l
wished, also, to be assured of your
forgiveness for having annoyed you
that night of the reception"
She gazed into his pale, cadaverous
face with wide-open, surprised, dark
eyea
"Annoying me, Sir Arthur" she re-
peated, blankly.
"I-pardon me, my lord-I do not
understand you!"
He checked smile.
"You will remember my persistent
references to certain danseuse, Miss
Lawrence!" he returned, quickly. "My
words seemed to ve1 you! feel that
my remarks. and the comparisons
winch 1 drew between yourself and the
dancer, quite uncalled for and in bad
taste. 1t has troubled me greatly, and
I have come here to sue for pardon.
Have your forgiveness?"
Still she gazeA into his face with
wide-open. puzzled eyes.
II do not recollect any such subject
of conversation, my lord" she reiter-
ated.
He bowed.
"Let us forget it, them he re-
| turned. II am sure it is my wish to
forget any subject of disagreement be-
tween your beautiful self and your
humble servant! I fear, however,
that"
He came to halt, the words dying
upon his lips in a gasp of wild sur
prise.
She stood before him, pale and trem-
bling, her eyes full Of strange light,
as though she was reading the very Sc
crets of his soul.
Perhaps that tletter-that anonymous
letter which she had received-might
have had something to do with the
strange, bold act which suddenly fol-
lowed.
But veil seemed all at once lifted
from her eyes; and she knew-knew
that the man before her was an impos-
tor; and no more an English lord than
| she was.