Kansas agitator. [volume] (Garnett, Kan.) 1890-1905, 1896-08-14
CHAPTER VI.-(CoNTINUED.


her to fly with him,perhaps half against
aer wish. could believe that she was
unhappy, that she was penitent, that
she loved me still. l could do more
than forgive, could take her-l should
be forced to take her-again 10 my
heart; even to trust her, and be proud Oh
her glorious beauty. Yes, I could do
this-after had seen Eustace Grant ~
ing lifeless at my feet. Weak as was
it could not be until then!
Where was he? Where was she?
Were they together? l turned again 10
the letter. 1t gave me no information
as to the writer's whereabouts. Inc
paper and the envelope were plaln'
the latter bore the London postmark.
It was creased, which told me 1t mad
been sent under cover, to be posted IN
London. Sent to whom? The receipt Oh
this scrap of paper worked a great
change in me. If had ever been APP
preaching that state in which man &C
cepts the inevitable, it lifted me out OIL
it.
It spurred me on to make fresh eXer-
tions to discover the retreat OF the 1u-
gitiyes. That letter-the letter written
by her-I carried next to my heart DAY
and night. False as my wife had been
to me loved her, and there were times
when recalled her sweet face ana mar
veled how evil could have lurkeu DE-
meath such a mask.
/ left Herstal Abbey and took up my
quarters in town. There / should be
ready to start on the moment l hearo
where Grant was to be found. But
somehow 1 was beginning to think that
our meeting would be brought about ny
pure chance. London is the place "here
all chance meetings occur. There are
few Englishmen who do not visit the
capital, either at shorter or longer IN
tervals. Something must bring ufah'
there: so l waited and hoped.
Chance, pure chance, brought ABOUT
what longed for, but in the way eA-
nected. did not stumble across my
foe in the street; did not hear cnahce
mention of his name, and so nit upon
some one who knew him. found Eus-
tace Grant in this WISE
This year a book, which at once TOOK
the publics fancy immensely, maue us
appearance. 1t was but novel, yeI d
work the depth and research OF WHICH,
combined with its pathos and humor'
arrested all readers attention. feopie
,voro curious to know who was the au-
thor. The title page bore one Oh those
names which strike every one as De'hs
a monde plume. Perhaps the Dook was
MT tho less read because certain
amount of mystery was kept up as 10
who had really written IT,
Sometimes, not often, since that CRUSH,
ing blow had fallen upon me, READ
what happened to come in my way. MS
norticu,ar hook was one which came In
INV way. l began to read it, and am
hound to say that the opening chapters
were written by so mastery manu-
that at once experienced something
If the general interest which the taie
had called forth. But before hao reau
~ half through, my interest and excite
ment were such as no author mas py LIS
merits ever awakened in any reader.
save a fierce cry Of triumph. thre"
hhe hook from me as if it were rep
file had found Eustace Grant!
For one chapter of that book con-
.oinad an account of the hero's journey
ing through part of Switzerland; ana
tbo account was the same as Grant had
given his auditors on the night nrst
mot him and hated and mistrusted
him. Several of the most amusing ana
ont-of-the- incidents which ne theh
related. and which were sui1lclehtiy
droll and strange to impress them
selves on my memory, were in these
nages once more narrated. Eustace
Grant was the author OF the SUCCESSFUL
book. l thanked my memory, whlch
had in a second brought his adventures
back to my mind; and memory broasht
back more than this.
II brought back Viola, listening win
smiles on her face to her guardian las
she called him) amusing recital. IL
brought back the days when l wooed
her; the day when told her my love;
the day when she was mine, as l
thought, forever; the day, the black
day. when she fled-when for hours and
hours 1 waited and would not believe
the truth. 1t brought back the last
two wretched years Of my life, 1t
drought back all Of which Eustace
Grant had robbed me, and l laughed
the laugh of a devil when l thought
that the time was at hand when he
should pay me for his act.
I trod his book under my foot. Hypo-
critic. who could write of honor, virtue
and truth, yet act as he had acted
Well, his time has come at last!
But now to find him-to know where
I must go, to stand face to face with
him! The next morning called on the
publishers of the book. l told them
had reason for believing that its au'
thor was an old friend Of mine. Woulc
they tell me his right name?
They could not. They believed ne
wrote under a pseudonym; but they