Iuka reporter. (Iuka, Miss.) 1888-1894, 1890-02-06
A Mad MARRIAGE:
The Heiress of Law
renee Park.
A STORY OF ABSORBING INTEREST.
BY MRS. L. b. COLLINS.
CHAPTER I.
A GHOST FROM THE PAST,

Freight; rosy freight streaming
over the costly apartments of luxuri
GUS library, very symphony in olive
walnut, and old gold.
The lamps had not yet been lighted
but the fire burned warm and red be
hind the silver bars of the wide CRATE
and spread its rosy glow over the vel
vet carpet and costly furniture.
Over the bay window, with it's olive
velvet and white lace curtains, vet un
drawn leaving glimpse of the night
without.
Over the marble busts of Shakespeare
Milton, and Byron, upon their velvet
draped brackets.
Over the two rare paintings hung
upon the tinted walls, "Belshazzar's
Feast" SO wildly depicted by the
touch of some old master that you
trembled involuntarily at sight of that
realistic handwriting upon the wall.
The other, q copy Of that weird, gro
tesque creation, Holbein's dance OF
Death"
The freight flickered over all, and
strayed lightly over the face of the
man who sat alone in o low walnut
armchair before the fire, his head bent.
his eyes fixed upon its rosy glow.
Outside, the wind howled shrilly,
and the rain beat persistently against
the window panes, tapping lightly fol-
admittance.
Oh in the distance, the thunder NUT
tered hoarsely, while occasional blue
sulphurous lightning flashes cut the
inky sky in twain.
A night of storm and tempest; but
the war of elements without were not
as fierce as the tumult within that
mans breast.
He arose to his feet at length, with
o low moan, which smote the silence
like blow.
my Godp he painted, brokenly:
show long must this torture last? Can
never forget? Am I doomed to carry
this awful burden with me to the
grave?
"For eighteen years eighteen long.
hard years l have hoped for oblivion |;
but, try as ! may, cannot strangle
memory!
Il cannot forget the woman whom I
have wronged! Even in the midst of
my prosperity, in my palace home, with
everything that heart. can wish, / can
not forget. Poor Gabrielle!
bah; what a fool! What driveling
idiot I am! What if the world should
suspect that I, Gilbert Lawrence, of
Lawrence Park, have skeleton in nv
closet "a hideous, grisly skeleton.
which mocks me at every turn!
mo, no! Let the dead past bury its
deadp There is no resurrection for
Gabrielle st. Cyr! She is dead long
years ago, and Il"
He came to sudden halt, the words
dying upon his lips in gasp Of horror.
Above the bowling OF the wind and
the beating of the rain, above the dis
tant booming of the thunder, sound
had reached his ears.
A hand was upon the fastening of the
window reaching to the veranda, and
slowly it was opened from without.
The wind rushed in with an eerie
wall, and then!
He wheeled about with wild cry; a
woman sprang lightly over the sill and
confronted him.
She stood there straight and erect.
in the center of the fragrant. firolit
room, slight, slim figure, with drip.
ping garments "clinging like cere.
ments, with the rain drops trickline
slowly down, and falling in pools upon
the rich velvet carpet.
A pale, stern, resolute face, q woman
OF some eight and thirty years.
OF rare brunette beauty; eyes like