Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-09-09

buildings had suffered severely, while in he churchyard more than one headstone had toppled over, demolishing the mounds beneath, while the blasting of the willow lud the discovery of Pedro Andros' man. gled body beside the grave of masters bride. the narrow bed itself having been Sorely disturbed by the fall of the willow was spoken of with awe and fear for months afl fler.-none but myself, however, knowning the actual meaning of the h. cident
 It was supposed was chance traveller who had ned in the storm to find shelter in the church, but had been blinded by the liGh thing, or in some way missed my footing and struck my head against the churchyaTd gates-the result, a severe attack of eoncussion of the brain, which ali proved but fatal
 It WAS well for me that even in my lucid moments, when addressed those around me, that they believed me still under the wild delusions of my brain, or the secret which as grew calmer I knew 1 must keep, might have become known. and my strange unreal story hAurted abroad, ana - trem bled, to think how, in the maze of mystery in which l found myself, should have fared.
 Who would have believed my talef should have been deemed a madman, or If for my proofs I showed the empty coffin how mercifully Providence had saved me by the fall of the tree hiding 1t once moro from sight in the gravel, what would they say but that I had matched some vile plot to rob a true and honorable gentleman of his lawful wife, had first, according to his charge, tried to murder her. and this falling, stolen her from him and hidden her.
 How they would torture me to try and find out where this was-not knowing how gladly I would have submitted to twice the suffering they could infict, both mental and physical, if 1t would
 wiring from me what, alasl I did not know.
 No, no; I must guard my secret and search alone. There was no other course open to me. Aye, and would search till I dropped, till died. How I wished that might be soon, for then should I solve this dark mystery, and know the truth whether In heaven or earth my darling dwelti Yes, must search, and that with caution-for had not I been declared 8 murdererP-until I could produce my supposed victim alive, in the flesh. Twas under the ban of that foul accusation.
 For the purpose of secrecy then, de- Germined to assume my uncle's name, as had at his wish done during his lifetime, and as Leonard Ferrol set about unraveL ling the tangled skein of mine and Mado- lines fate.
 Under this name, therefore began
 life afresh. How bitterly did regret the time which had been already lost every moment of which was 50 preciousI Ibade farewell to my kind nurses, paid them
 well for the trouble and expense to which had put them, and began my search. Foremost and first turned my atten. tion to Sir Philip, half doubting whether
 or no he might have had a hand in this matter. 1 vowed, if he knew where Mad oline was, if he had her in his power once
 more I would know it. and if DOW unable to force him to resign her to me by any
 other means, would search the world for proofs of his guiltiness in his first wifes murder and 80 set her free one way or
 the other.
 With a twofold object, then, laid my plans. By the time l was able to put them into execution, found Blackwater Towers was shut up and for sale. 9ho baronet had tired of this beautiful home and now spent his time roaming about
 the Continent. Here then I followed him for days and nights lived with one ob- tect-to see if he had the clue to the affair. Like dog 1 followed him from place to place, tracking his every move ment, until at last was satisfied. He had
 
 his second wife's death existed of this was soon convinced. Therefore, Pedro's mission to the churchyard had been one of his own composinRi to the valet only and not to the master l owed my weary
 search. Days grew into months and months into years and this did not end. During that time how many plans mad I made and seen brought to noughtI How many clues had followed up to find myself again and again on the wrong trail! How my hopos were raised only to be dashed to the ground How many times my heart
 thrilled with Joyl "At last, at last" I would cry. That for which I sought
 seemed within my grasp. How many times turned to lead, as it were in my breast as I realized 1t was but air I was l grasping-not even @ shadow to cheer me | with the thought that somewhere not far l distant was the shadow.
 l But why waste time and weary my | reader with detailing my fruitless wander l ings from town to town, city to city. True, there were events which occurred in my
 travels which if chose might easily hold
 the readers attention off from the end ; l but though their recounting would con- l tain many a singular and expressing ad- | venture, as they do not exactly form @
 link in the chain of my tale, will not bring them under notice. So then let me l to the last act of my drama, the scenes of | which, are, fear, all too short. First, then, it Is one day early in sum-
 mer; I am in Florence, just returned
 once more to this beautiful city, which
 had made my resting place after long
 following up of the wrong trail. 1 am be-
 ginning to wonder If the right one is to
 be found on earth; and, weary and sick
 at heart have gone to the place call
 home, shut myself up in my room and
 given way to the lowest depth of despair. | Upon my dreary loneliness one of the
 few friends have in the world breaks in
 and, knowing of old how useless 1t is to
 try and offer me comfort, seeks to divert
 my thoughts by speaking of other things
 than my cause for sorrow.
 ''You will do no good by thus hiding
 yourself away with your troubles-come,
 1 have a holiday, and am bound for little
 quiet enjoyment; you shall go with me-"
 In vain 1 protest-no denial will be
 taken, and at length-sorely against my
 will am made to accompany my friend.
 He Is an artist by profession, and thus
 am not surprised when he proposes our