The Forrest City times., 1891-07-24
CHAPTER XIII.

When Florence finds her way, at the expiration of the hour, to Dora's room she discovers that fair little widow dis solved i'll tears, and indeed sorely per plexed and shamed. The sight of Flor ence only seems to render her grie more poignant, and when her cousin putting her arm round her, tries to con sole her, she only responds to the cares. by Ringing herself upon her knees, anC praying her to forgive her
 And then the whole truth comes out All the petty, mean, underhand ac tions, all the cruel lies, all the careful, ports are brought into light and lait bare to the mortified eyes of Florence
 Dora's confession is thorough ant complete in every sense. Not ill any way does she seek to shield herself, or palliate her own share in the deception practiced upon the unconscious girl now regarding her with looks of amaze ment and deep sorrow, but in bitter silence.
 When the wretched story is at an end, and Dora. rising to her feet de- ciares her intention of leaving England forever, Miss Delmaine stands like one turned into stone, and says no word either of censure or regret.
 Dora, weeping violently, goes to the door, but, as her hand is raised to open it, the pressure upon the gentle heart of Florence is suddenly removed, and in little gasping voice she bids her stay.
 Dora remains quite still, her eyes bent upon the floor, waiting to hear her cousins words of just condemna- tion; expecting only to hear the seath- ing words of scorn with which her cou-s sin will bid her hegone from her sight for evermore. But suddenly she feels 1 two soft arms close around her, and i Florence, bursting into tears, lays her head upon her shoulder
 "Oh, Dora, how could you do itl" she l falters, and that is all Never, either then or afterward, does another sen- i tence of reproach pass her lips; and Dora, forgiven and taken back to her ! cousins friendship, endeavors earnest I ly for the future to avoid such untruth- ful paths as had so nearly led her to her ruin.
 Sir Adrian, from the hour in which his dearest hopes were realized, reeov- CTS rapidly both his health and spirits; and soon double wedding takes place, that makes pretty Ethel Nillers Ethel Ringwood and beautiful Florence Lady Dynecourt.
 A winter spent abroad with his Charming bride completely restores Sir Adrian to his former vigorous state, and, when spring is crowning all the land with her fair flowers. he returns to the castle with the intention of re- naming there until the coming season demands his presence in town.
 And now once again tkere is almost the same party brought together at 1lynpaAnYt fAfl l,-I Y, I,,.n ..l Lady Gertrude are here again, and so are Captain and Mrs, Rjngwood. both the gayest of the gay. Dora Talbot is here too, somewhat chastened and sub- dued both ill manner and expression. a change so much for the better that she finds her list of lovers to be longer now than in the days of yore.
 It is an exquisite, baimy day in April. ! The sun is shining hotly without, drinking up greedily the gentle shower that fell half an hour ago. The guests, who with their host and hostess have been wandering idly through the grounds, decide to go indoors.
 Tt was on day like this, though in autumn, that we first missed Sir Ad- rlan,' remarks some one in half tone contidentially to some one else, but not so low that the baronet could not hear it.
 Yes he says quickly, "and it was just over there"-pointing to a clump of shrubs near the hall door-"that I parted with that unfortunate cousin of mine.'
 Lady Dynecourt shudders, and draws closer to her husband.
 Tt was a marvellous story" observes pretty woman who was not at tue castle last autumn, when what so near ly proved to be tragedy was being en- acted; quite like legend or medin- val romance. Dear Lady Dynecourt finding hlm was such happy finish to It. l must say have always had the greatest yeneratlon for those haunted chambers, so seldom to beafound now In any house. Perhaps my regard for them Is the stronger because 1 never SAW one"
 "No?" questioningly. "Will you come and see ours now?' says Sir Adrian readily.
 His wife clasps his arm, and a pang contracts her brow.
 You are not frightened now, sure Ivy says Adrian, smiling at her very tenderly
 ~les, aIn,' she responds promptly. The very name of that awful room un- nerves me. There is something evil in 1t, believe, Do not go there"
 I'll block it up forever if you wish it declares Sir Adrian. but, for the last time let me go and show its ghost ly beauty to Lady Laughton. l confess, even after all that has happened, it possesses no terror for me; it only re- minds me of my unpleasant kinsman,"
 Il wonder what became of him. re- marks Ringwood. Hes at the other side of the world, should imagine"
 Out of the world, at all events, says Ethel, indiiierently.
 Well, let us go,' agrees Florence re- signedly.
 So together they all start once more for the old tower. As they reach the stone steps Sir Adrian says laughingly to Lady Laughton:
 Now, what do you expect to seep X ghost-a phantoniY And in what shape, what guise?'
 "A skeleton" answers Lady Laugh ton, returning his laugh; and with the words the door is pushed open, and they enter the room en nasse
 The sunlight is stealing in through the narrow window holes and faintly lighting up the dismal room
 What IS that in wonder corner, the very corner where Sir Adrian's almost hfeless body had been foundy Is this n trlck, delusion of the brainp What IS this thing huddled together. lying in a heap--a ghastly, ragged, filthy heap, before their terrified eyes? And why does this ciarnel-house smell infect their nostriIs?' They stagger. Even the strong men grow pale and faint, for there, before them, gaunt, awful, uninlstakabie, lies a skeleton.
 | at. Al