Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1892-03-24
The tears that seldom rose to Rachel's

forth IN imploring hand, i'll which Rachel
placed liberal donation.
1t was this incident that paved the
way for an unexpected but far more i'm
| portant encounter As Rachel, walking
quickly and with eyes still wet with toIrs,
and heart wildly throbbing with newly
quickened feeling, turned the corner of
the street, she rushed directly into the
arms of young man who was coming
toward her He was pale and wan, he
stopped under the weight of that expert
ence that is more aging than years, but
Rachel knew him in an instant, and as
his arms iuvoluntarily closed about her
and held her for one moment to his breast,
she cried ont, us if he had thrust Il dag
ger in her:
"George-George Murray"
"Rachel," he said, softly, forgive
me. did not mean to touch you. 1t
was so sudden"
"Yes, yes, know 1t is my fault.
| didn't sec you.
And she wrenched herself from his
ho'd, it was, indeed, from his embrace,
fo~ be clung to her us ii he could not
again let her go. But seeing her face,
which grew ike marble ut sight of him,
his arms dropped away from her.
"Oh, can you forgive me?' he cried
at was all wild deirium-a madnes!
| never loved but you Can you not
forgive me-can you not even try to for
give me?'
Il cannot even try" she said, and her
voice was like the knell of hope; and,
with a gesture of unspeakabe contempt,
she waved him aside, and passed on.
| How she reached home Rachel Landor
never knew; but some hours later she
was aware that she was in her own room,
the door locked and all the world shut
out.
How long she had been there she
didn't know, but she remembered that
when she came in she had sunk upon the
sofa half fainting; but now her heart was
beating wildly and every pulse thrilled
as if with some new life-a feverish, de-
lirious ecstasy such a. she had never
known before. She glanced up and saw
the reflection of herself in the long mir
ror opposite, and wondering, doubling
her own eyes, she rose, went over close
to the looking Ass and stared.
Was that Rachel Landor, that radiant
vision of brilliant, gracious womanhood?
The years seemed 10 have rolled back, she
looked ten years younger than she had
/ looked when she went out that morning
A joyous excitement glowed in her great,
deep, dark eyes, her cheeks and lips were
flushed with the hue of the rose, the mass
of dark brown hair usually worn in a
tight knot at the back of her head, had
slipped from its fastening and fell in q
disheveled, waving, glossy mass about
her neck and shoulders, reaching to her
waist, and her tall, slender figure in its
unconscious poise of triumph, had all the
lissome grace of buoyant girlhood.
Can it be II" she murmured, wonder
ingly. "Yes, it is, indeed /, and L am
beautiful. Ali my day has come-the
day never even dared to hope for! He
loves me, and am thousand times more
beautiful than that pale doll that took
him from me! And he he loves me.
My hour has come! 1t is Just, and will
use my power. | will be revenged-re-
venged!'
And, like poor old Lear, Rachel deter
mined that her vengeance should be the
terrors of the earth-a revenge unique,
unusual, peculiar, like herself
From that day Rachel Landor returned
to society. She soon learned what, had
she been accustomed to the gossip of the
town, she would have known months ago
that Murray had returned u broken
hearted, ruined man, bitterly disappont-
ed in the wife who had squandered his
fortune in their brief married life, leav-
ing him not even the IN emory of her love
when he laid her in her grave, her shall
low, frivolous heart forever stilled, and
his life enbittered with the mingled
poison of selfcontempt and remorse.
1t was very soon as plain to all who
saw him rs it was to Rachel, that his love
had returned to its first object with u
passionate intensity such as he had never
before known himself capable of; and,
indeed, he Only seemed to live in Rachel's
presence, seeking her whenever she could
be found, follwing her every movement
with adoring eyes, breathing, almost, TO
the sound of her voice. But he never
put his love into words, he scarcely dared
to speak to her ut all, content if he might
only gaze on her when she moved
How Rachel felt about this silent wor-
ship none could tell-in some ways she
was more peculiar than ever-but it
looked, ut times, as if she chafed under it,
One night Rachel Landor missed the
figure of George Murray from large
party, at which she was, as usual, the
brilliont and beautiful attraction. As
hour after hour went by, and still he came
not, she was uneasy, the people soor
bored her. Presently she could endure
the crowd no longer and, with a strange
uneasy tremor, she withdrew quietly
ordered her carriage, ana 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 presently she overheard u
remark dropped in whisper:
George Murray is ill-dying. The
doctor gives no hope"
And at these words the very beating
of her heart seemed to stop.
"' Ill ! Dying y" she repeated, in
a sharp, agonized whisper. Impossible!
He must not be i'll! He dare not die"
Her vengeance was not yet complete,
that revenge for which she lived-on
which she lived, her very life itself!
She fled from the place. and hiding
herself within her carriage, bade tho
couchman to drive to the home of George
Murray. She soon found that his condi-
ton had not been exaggerated. A vio-
lent and deadly form of typhoid had
stricken him, and he was already raying
in delirium. The physician made no
pretense of hope He told Rachel plain
| ly that in all human probability her
! fri me IL