News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1892-03-17
TERMS $1.5O.


ing and fell in a disheveled, waving.
glossy mass about her neck and
shoulders, reaching to her waist, and
her tall, slender figure, in it's uncon-
scious poise of triumph, had all the
lissome grace OF buoyant girlhood
"Can it be II" she murmured,
wonderingly " "Yes, it is, indeed /,
and l am beautiful. All my day
has cOme-the day / never even
dared to hope for? He loves me, and
| | am thousand times more beauti-
ful than that pale doll that took him
| from mel And hP-he loves mel My
hour has come! 1t is just, and | will
use my power. | will be revenged-
! revengPdl y
And, like poor old Lear, Rachel de-
! termned tlat her vengeance should
be the terrors of the earth-a revenge
unique, unusual, peculiar, like her.
self.
From that dav Rachel Landor re-
turned to society. She soon learned
what. had she been accustomed to
the gossip of the town, she would
! have known months ago-that MUIR
ray had returned broken hearted,
ruined man, bitterly disappointed in
the wife who had squandered his for
tune in their brief married life, lcav-
inc him not even the memory of her
love when he laid her in the grave,
her shallow, frivolous heart forever
stilled, and his life embittered with
the mingled poison of selfcontempt
and remorse.
1t was very soon as plain to all
who saw him as it was to Rachel,
that his love had returned to its first
object with a passionate intensity
such as he had never before known
himself capable Of; and, indeed, he
only seemed to live in Rachels pres
ence, seeking her whenever she
could be found, following her every
moment with adoring eyes. But
he never put his love into words;
he scarcely dared to speak to her at
all, content if he might only gaze on
her when she moved.
How Rachel felt about this silent
worship none could tell-in some
ways she was more peculiar thanever
but it looked at times as if she
chated under it.
One night Rachel Landor missed
the figure of George Murray from a
large party, at which she was, as us
ual, the brilliant and beautiful at
traction. As hour after hour went
by, and still heca not, she was un-
easy; the people soon bored her.
Presently she could endure the crowd
no longer, and, with a strange, un.
easy tremOr, she withdrew quietly, or
dered her carriage, and was driven
home. The same thing happened the
next night, and the next. On the
fourth night she had grown almost
haggard with disappointment and
rage, she said to herself. But pres
emily she overheard remark dropped
in a whisper:
George Murray is ill-dying. The
doctor gives no hope"
III! 'Dyingr" she repeated in II
sharp agonized whisper. "Impossi-
bic He must not be i'll He dare
not die ~
She fled from the place, and hiding
herself within her carriage, bade the
cOachman drive to the home of
George Murray. She soon found his
condition had not been exaggerated.
A violent and deadly form of typhoid
had stricken him, and he was already
raving in delirium. The physician
made no pretense of hope. He told
Rachel plainly that in all human
probability her friend was doomed.
"There is but a shadow of a
chance in IL hundred that he may
live"
"But, doctor, we will take that one
shadOwy chance, and let the other
ninety-nine CO." said Rachel
Doctor Frank looked at her, but
said nothing; he didn't understand
her Like every one else in the place,
he knew Rachels story, and he asked
himself: Could it be possible, after
all, that she loved this man who bad
Tilted her and broken her heart? Her
face told him nothing. She was very
pale, and her eyes glowed like live
coals-but their meaning was a mys-
terry TO him.
On the following morning Rachel
took her place in Murray's room "a
capable nurse was already there and
being a woman, perhaps she under
stood Rachel better than the doctor;
anyway, she made no objection to her
presence, and if she had, it would not
have made any difference. Miss Ian
dor was accustomed to having her
own way.
The days went by and grew into
weeks, and they were slow and ted-
Gus to nurse and physician, as such
days are wont to be, for they began
now to count the hours till George
Murray's breathing should cease
that breathing that was often so faint
that more than once it seemed to
have ceased entirely.
One day in early summer the win
dows were open, forit was very warm,
and the Odorous breath of roses and
honeysuckle and purple clematis fill
ed the room with perfume. The sick
mau lay asleep, white as the tall
lilies in the window.
He will never come out of this
Sleep" said the nurse in a hushed
voice.
Rachel drew a long breath. and
took the wasted hand in both her
own and held 1T close, while her very
soul seemed to pass into that touch.
She bent over him, almost as pale as
himself, only that her cheeks burned
and her eyes were fixed on his face
with IA look that seemed to battle
him in the glow and farvor of their
light. She did not speak and her
gaze never left him. Hours passed.
The hand she held lost its deathly
chill, and grew warm and moist; a
faint, dewy moisture was on the brow
and temples, and the breathing grew
stronger, longer and steadier. ltwas
evening when the sleeper stirred
slightly, slowly unclosed his eyes and
smiled, as he looked up and Iecogniz-
ed Rachel. 1t was week later, and
she was again beside him; while Doe
tor Frank and the nurse spoke of
him in the next room, comparing
notes as to his strange and uneXpect-
ed recovery.
"Thev say you have saved me,
Rachel, 4" he said, in a voice still faint
and low.
"Yes. l could not let you go,
George"
And what are you going to do
with me?"
q am going to be revenged on
you"
"Ah! But how, dears"