Waterbury evening Democrat., 1891-09-05
The Mystery
of the Towers

"dS SNdllOWGu up OLo "lli Jet me not see him face to face. dare not tell him all-oh let me die. have been 90 wilfully blind-death is all that is left And scarcely were the words on my lips than shadow fell across my path. Something cold seemed to grip my heart. saw @ sea of faces-yours before the rest-and that was all until woke to ind myself in your arms"
 "Yes safe with me-"
 "No-not safe. 1 shall never be safe In this world from the consciousness of what have done. IsobePs blood is on my head"
 "My darling" I said, pressing her to me, and trying in vain to calm her excite ment. You talk wildly"
 "No, no" she erred, pushing back her hair wildly. 'They say it was by accident she died. say it was no accident; 1t was murder"
 And with a shudder my darling hid her face in my breast.
 "But, surely he Sir Philip would not have dared"
 "You do not know him as do; W lat would he not dare? Isobel my sister, why why was I so blind?" And now she became so excited that declared my intention of rousing the | house.
 ''No, no for pity's sake," cried Mado-
 
 "YOu have no cause to fear-I am with you," suid. "We have right on our side; he dare not so much as address you before me-"
 ''Right on our sideI No, no, oh! you do not know all yet"
 Mot know all; what is it you are hid ing from meP Speak. Madeline, speak, Why do you fear himP' ''Because, Leonard, do you not knowP Have tbnv not told Wa ried three weeks ago. It was our return that they were celebrating" Return-marriedl and l had thought it was for the ceremony they were pre- | pairing, and thought l was yet in time to save my darling.
 '"Then you are already this mans wifep' | l said staggering to my feet the truth forcing itself upon me that I had mis- | understood old Margaret's words, "Mado- l line, l would rather thousand times you had slept on than told me this. His wife, bound to him by bonds which can never breakl God help you, this Is worse than death to me-"
 Weeping passionately, Madeline flung herself at my feet in her satin robes, the rich bridal robes of the man she lonthed and implored me to save her from him. It was marvellous the strength she pos sessed after what she had gone through | there was no weakness-her terror drove | it away.
 The words of her pleading shall not be here recorded. It was such as complete ly unnamed me- made me helpless as a child. But in spite of all, in the darkness l l only saw one thought written. Innocent or guilty of the charge of which more than suspected him, Sir Philip was yet Madolines lawful husband, and could not take her from him. even if 1 dared | T | from her, wondering why Heaven had | given me strength to harden my heart against her: "Madoline. for pity's sake dc not tempt me; you are this mans wife. | dare not take you from him."
 "Oh! Leonard, Leonard, for my sake you will dare do 1t. cannot be his wife | knowing what I do. It will be no sin tC come between us, and we will prove | what"
 What we surmiseH No, mo-" who will believe so wild taleH You chose you fate-you must follow it."
 "No, mo-" she cried, as I gently bu firmly unclasped her arms from round my neck, the satin robe in which had ofte1 pictured her as making her the fairest o all women on earth when she should stand at my side my wife, now but tn, badge of her slavery, the livery of he master, from whom l had no power t, part her, trailing the ground as sh, crawled like wounded animal to n, feet, lowing her head to the very dust that golden head dare not raise iron it's bitter humiliation, and, clingng in perfect frenzy of helplessness to m knees, holding my icy hands between he own burning ones till it seemed was th one who had risen from the dead and no yet shaken off the chilly touch of the kin of terrors-she. the half-maddened soul who had witnessed the strange awaken ing, while she rained on my fingers kisse and tears, and begged me-oh, Heavens how she prayed to me-to save herl And yet knew was helpless, withou power to do as she asked.
 "Madollne," cried, striving to be ire from her hold. "Nothing but death cal part you from your husband"
 "Nothing but death?" she repeated springing to her feet and standing bacl from me. '"Then why did you not le me sleep onf Why awaken me to this liv ing death9 Why did that blow not kill mel Is the wound yet too far closed bu I will tear it openP Do not try to stoI the flow of blood this time 1t comes iron my heart; shall not live, but have al the happiness 1 dare hope for-to die a your feet. Stay, there are surer means thar that. tteAVenS nalu IS ln CDlS; an you shall not fail in your errand this time" \ The snatched at something which lay or the table near; it was the dagger whicl had inflicted the wound which had s. nearly proved fatal
 "Madoline," l shrieked, "what wouI' you doH"
 For answer the dagger was raised an, flashed over my darling's breast Like madman I bounded forward, seized tn upraised hand, and, needless of how crushed the fingers which held it. snatchet the dagger from her grasp.
 ''No-no" she shrieked, struggling to rt gain It. At least let me die. You d not love me, and
 "Madoline, for Gods sake, be calm," cried, and folding her in my arms bel writhing form to me, till suddenly al her strength left her, and she lay sensS in my arms-white and still US when first looked upon her that night
 Stupehed, spellbound, I gazed upon he in the dim light. Then the silence aroun me was broken by a sound of-whatH
 The sound of step on the stair
 knew by instinct whose it waa It wa Sir Philips Could it be that he wa