The Forrest City times., 1891-07-17

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 Darling, owe you my lifel" With great feebleness he utters these words. accompanying them with a ~....,.o uI utter devotion. How can she mistake his glance, so full of love and rapture? Perplexed ih the extreme, she turns from him, as though to leave him, but by gesture he detains her. Do not leave me! Stay with mel" he entreats.
 Once again, deeply distressed she looks at Dora. Mrs. Talbot, rising, says distinctly, but with shamefaced expression
 Do as he asks you. Believe me, by ms side IS your proper place, not mine" \, Saying this, she glides quickly from Lhe room, and does not appear again for hours.
 By luncheon-time it occurs to the guests that Arthur Dynecourt has not been seen since last evening. RingwOod, carrying this news to the sick-room, the little rescuing party and their auxiliaries, the nurse and doctor, lay their heads together, and decide that, doubtless, having discovered the escape of his prisoner, and, dreading arrest, Arthur has quietly taken him. self off, and so avoided the trial and punishment which would otherwise nave fallen upon him.
 Ringwood is now of opinion that they have acted unwisely in concealing the discovery of Sir Adrian in the haunted chamber. By not speaking to the others, they have given Dynecourt the opportunity Of getting away safely, and without causing suspicion.
 "Is it not an almost conclusive proof of his guilt, his running away in this cowardly fashion," says Ethel Villiers. Il think papa and Lady FitzAlmont and everybody should be told"
 So Ringwood, undertaking the office of tale-bearer, goes downstairs, and, bringing together all the people still remaining in the house, astOunds them by his revelation of the discovery and release of Sir Adrian.
 The nearest magistrate is sent for, and the case being laid before him. to- gether with the still further evidence given by Sir Adrian himself, who has told them in a weak whisper of Ar thur's being privy to his intention of searching the haunted chamber for Florence's bangle on that memorable day of his disappearance the magis- trate issues warrant for the arrest of Arthur Dynecourt.
 But 1t Is all in vain; even though two of the cleverest detectives from Scot land Yard are pressed into the service. no tidings of Arthur Dynecourt come to light. A man answering to his de- scription, but wearing spectacles, had been traced as having gone on board a vessel bound for New York the very day after Sir Adrian was restored to the world, and, when search in other quarters fails, every one falls into the ready belief that this spectacled man was in reality the would-be murderer
 So tho days pass on, and it is now quite a month since Ringwood and Florence carried Sir Adrian's senseless form from the haunted chamber, and still Florence holds herself aloof from the man she loves, and, though quito as assiduous as the others in her atten- tions to him, seems always eager to get away from him, and glad to escape any chance of tetc-d-tete with him. This she does in defiance of the fact that Mrs. Talbot never approaches him ex- cept when absolutely compelled.
 Sir Adrian is still great invalid. The shock to his nervous system, the dragging out of those interminable hours in the lonely chamber, and the strain upon his physical powers by the absence of nutriment for seven long days and nights, had all combined to shatter a constitution once robust He is now greatly improved in health, and has been recommended by his doctors to try winter ill the south of France or Algiers.
 He shows himself, however, strange ly reluctant to quit bis home, and, whenever the subject is mentioned, he first turns his eyes questioningly upon Florence, If she is present, and then, receiving no returning glance from her downcast eyes, sighs, and puts the mat ter from him.
 He has so earnestly entreated both Dora and Miss Delmaine not to desert him, that they have not had the heart to refuse, and as Ringwood is also stay ing at tho castle, and Ethel Villiers has gained her fathers consent to re- main, Mrs. Talbot acting as chaperon, they are by no means a dull party.
 To-day, the first time for over a month, Florence, going to her easel draws it's cover away from the sketch thereon, and gazes at her work. How long ago it seems since she sat thus, happy in her thoughts, glad Tn the Do. lief that tho one she loved loved herl yet all that time his heart had been given to her cousin. And though now at odd moments. she has felt h erself compelled to imagine that his every glance and word speaks of tenderness for her, and not for Dora-still this very knowledge only hardens her heart toward him, and renders h.r cold and unsympathetic in his presence.
 No, she will have no tickle lover. And yet, how kind he is--how earnest, how honest in his glancel Oh, that she could believe all the past to be an evil dream and think of him again as her very own, as in the dear old days gone byl
 Even while thinking this she idly opens a book lying on the table near her, where some brushes and paint are scattered. A piece of paper drops from between it's leaves and flutters to the ground. Lifting it, she sees it is the letter written by him to Dora, which tho latter had brought to her, here to this very room, when asking her ad- vice as to whether she should or should not meet him by appointment in the lime-walk.
 She drops the letter hurriedly, as though it's very touch stings her, and, rousing herself with bitter self-con- tempt from her sentimental regrets, works vigorously at her painting for about an hour, then, growing wearied, she filings her brushes aside, and goes to the morning-room, where she knows she will find all the others assembled.
 There is nobody here just now how ever, except Sir Adrian, who is looking rather tired and bored. and Ethel Vill- iers. The latter, seeing Florence enter, gladly gathers up her work and runs away to have turn in the garden with Captain Ringwood.