The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1893-01-14
CHAPTER XIV.

| Raymond. No, no! it was all true. Oh
! where am l? Who are you? How came
l here, in this strange place."
You are among kind. true friends
dearie-kind, true friends, and you mus
not get excited, the doctor says"
Kind hearted, motherly old Mrs
Blake, the farmers wife, StrOked Edna
Deane's brow as she spoke, and hel
startled charge sank back among the
pillows, moaning with weakness, mysu'
fication, and anxiety.
A long sleep, indeed, had it been; fol
two weeks had passed away since hon
est Farmer John had dragged her from
the snowdrift at his cottage door, ran
for the doctor, and, with his solicitous
wife, had worked all night long to re-
| vive her well-nigh exhausted vitality.
Since then, in dose and delirium, the
poor child had lain, and this was the
first awakening to consciousness.
She listened with shudder to the
story that her motherlv nurse told her
of their finding her that weird snowy
night. She cried softly as she told her.
too, how they came to love her bonny,
innocent face-how, if she was home
less, friendless, they would gladly make
room for her in their home and their
hearts, bereft only a short year since by
the death of their own darling child.
They asked her no questions as she
grew stronger daily, and Edna did Eot
enlighten them. 1t seemed as if "a pail,
never to be lifted, hung over her young
life. She remembered all that the mes
senger her father had sent for her had
| impaired to her-that he alone had
placed her at the seminary years agone,
and with him had persisted the mystery
of her young life, all hopes of establish
ing her identity, of finding her father.
She had been cast upon the world alone,
with no claim upon her past life, and
| the mystery of her true identity was a
mystery still.
No claim, save one-Raymond, Her
hea t beat anxiously as she thought OF
| him. How he would worry over her
sudden departure, her strange silence.
She must write to him, to her dear friend
| Beatrice Mercer, at once. No, she re-
membered all her guide had told her.
| She must never communicate W tn any
| Of her old friends until she saw her
father 1t might mean peril-trouble
| for him. Oh! how the perplexities OF
her situation fretted her
A week passed by. She was strong
| once more. All one day Edna reflected
| seriously. That night glancing lovingly
at the faces of her kind friends, she told
them of her resolve.
| You have been like an own father
and mother 10 me-" she murmured,
| never cease to love you, butt am go
| ing away.
Going away" sighed the kindly Mrs
| Blake.
Yes; l must see some friends. Then
7 yuiI hnp 7 no 81, a %.
happy, happy home. Please do hot
| question me, but | must 60.
reluctantly they babe her good-by
the next morning. The farmer drove
her Over to the railroad station. In the
new ga ments with which her old torn
and bedraggled attire had been re-
placed, no one re, ognized her as the
| supposed victim Of the bridge disaster,
an event strangely that Mr. Blake had
| not heard of. Edna had few dollars
in her pocket She bought ticket tax
ing her half way to Hopedale, kissed
the fatherly farmer goodby, promised
to write or return within few days,
and the train whirled her away.
At the terminus she sold her watch
This gave her ample means to continue
her journey. All the way she was think
ing o. what she should do. Something
in the memory of her guides strange
warning about the mystery that clouded
her fathers life impelled her to secrecy
in all her movements, and when she
reached Hopedale at noon she trusted
to her attire and a heavy veil to conceal
her identity.
She haunted the vicinity of the semi
nary. She would try to get word to
Beatrice. Finally, she addressed a
strange student. The reply t. her
que stions chilled and Disconnected her.
Miss Mercer had left the seminary two
| weeks previous.
Then EaymOnd-she must find him
now. She could tell him everything
While he endeavored to get some trace
o. her father, she would return to the
Blakes and make her home with them
1t was just dusk when she finally rang
at the door bell of the Marshall resi-
dence.
A servant informed her that Mr. Mar
| shall was not at home. He had gone to
the hotel with his father. the colonel
What shall | do? Oh, l am so fear
full of making a mistake, but | must see
Raymond. Who else can l appeal to
in my uncertainty"
obviously, undecidedly, Edna walked
towards the village hostelry. 1t was
quite dusk, and she was very tire |
when she reached the place
Mechanically, almost, she assembled
tho stairs leading to the ladies' parlor,
and sank to cushioned chair, thinking,
wondering, hoping she was doing what
was emlnently proper, and for the best
Footsteps on the stairs brought her to
her feet. If 1t was servant, she would
ask her to try and find Mr.. RAYMOND
a 70 r.,
10 her-but 1t was no servant The ia
| miliar form of Doctor Simms passed the
door, and following him was a clerical
looking man, and the former was say
ing:
Mr.. Marshall Is waiting for us. This
| way, sir.
Mr.. acknowledgement, He was in
the hotel, then? What meant the words
of the Doctor? Why was the ministe-
rial looking man here? For few mo-
ments the perplexed girl fingered Then,
| involuntarily, she stole from the room
and down a corridor.
The sound of voices through the open
door of a darkened room drew her to its
| threshold. 1t was the parlor of the
suite occupied by Beatrice Mercer. The
half-oten door of the communicating
apartments admitted the sound of SOL
emn, impressive words.
Was she dreaming? Half-stunned she
staggered across the room and peered
| into the next.
Eea iee-Raymond-am inister-Col-
onel Marshall The two former with
hands united, one lying on couch, the
other, she fancied, bending tenderly to-
ward her.
oh, surely, this was some delirium of
the senses. her old fever returned.
No, for just then came the solemn
somber words from the lips of the cler-
gyman:
And you, Raymond Marshall, do take
Beatrice Mercer as your legally welded
wife, 10 cherish and protect while life
shall last"
The unhappy girl reeled where she
stood. Her senses seemed deserving
her. ClinCing to the door-knob for sup
| port, peering, Mortified, pulsating, she
/ drew the door open.
Sau