Rocky Ford enterprise., 1896-07-16
CHAPTER vI.-CoxrIsusn,

her wish. could believe that she was
unhappy, that she was penitcnt, that
che loved me still. could do more
than forgive. could take her-i shouiu
be forced to take her-again 10 my
heart; even to trust her. and be proud OF
her glorious beauty. Yes. could do
this-after had seen Eus,acc Grant iy-
ing lifeless at my feet. Weak us was
It could not be until then!
Where was he? Where was she!
We're they together? turned again TO
tho letter. 1t gave me no Information
as to the writer's whereabouts. Inc
paper and the envelope were piain'
tho latter bore the London postmark.
II was creased, which told me 1t had
been sent under cover. to be posted in
London. Sent to whom? The receipt OF
this scrap OF paper worked great
change In me. II had ever been ap-
preaching that state In which man ac.
cepts the Inevitable. 1t lifted me out Oh
It.
It spurred me on to make fresh exer-
tions to discover the retreat OF the tu-
gitiyes. That ietter-the letter written
BY her carried next to my heart day
and night. False as my wife had been
to mo loved her. and there were times
when I recalled her sweet fnce and mar
yeled how evil could have lurked be-
meath such a mask.
left Herstal Abbey and took up my
quarters In town. There Ehould be
ready to start on the moment 1 heard
where Grant was to be found. But
somehow was beginning to think that
our meeting would be brought about by
pure chance. London is the place where
all chance meetings occur. There are
few Enslishmen who do not visit the
capital, either at shorter or longer IN
tervals. Something must bring Grant
there: SO I waited and hoped.
Chance. pure chance. brought about
what longed for. but in the way ex-
pected, did not stumble across my
foe in the street; did not hear chance
.,ention Of his name. and so hit upon
some one who knew him. lfound Eus-
tace Grant In this wise:
This year book. which at once took
the public's fancy immensely, made It's
appearance. 1t was but novel, yet
work the depth and research o. which.
combined with its pathos and humor,
arrested all readers attention. People
were curious to know who was the au-
thor. The title page bore one Of those
names which strike every one Is being
a non.de-plume. Perhaps the book was
pprtain
amount of mystery was kept Up rs 10
who had really written 1t.
Sometimes, not often. since that crush
ing blow had fallen upon me, l read
what happened to come in my way. This
particular book was one which came In
my way. began to read 1t. and am
bound to say that the opening chapters
were written by SO mastcrly hand
that l at once experienced something
of the general interest which the tale
had called forth. But before had read
It half thr ough, my interest and excite
ment were such as no author has by his
merits ever awakened in any reader. 1
gave fierce cry of triumph. threw
the book from me as If it were rep
tlLc. i udu lOulu iIuoS'SS NANAs'
For one chapter of that book con-
tained an account of the hero's journey
ing through a part of Switzerland; and
the account was the same as Grant had
given his auditors on the night first
met him, and hated and mistrusted
him, Several of the most amusing and
out-of-the-way incidents which he then
= Il, cnfHnionf f11y
droll and strange to impress them
selves on my men ory, were in these
pages once more narrated. Eustace
Grant was the author of the successful
book. thanked MY memory, which
had in second broue 1t his adventures
back to my mind: and memory brought
back more than this.
It brought back Violl, listening with
smiles on her face to h,r guardians (as
she called him) amusing recital. 1t
brought back the days when wooed
her; the day when. told her my love;
the day when she was mine, as
thought, forever; the day, the black
day, when she fled-when for hours and
hours l waited and would not believe
the truth. It brought back the last
two wretched years of my life. 1t
brought back all Of which Eustace
Grant mad robbed me, and laughed
the laugh of devil when thought
that the time was at hand when he
should Fay me for his act.
1 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. 1 told them I
had reason for believing that its au-
thor was an old friend of mine. Would
they tell me his right name?
They could not. They believed he
wrote under a pseudonym; but they
knew him by no other. asked II they
could show me letter of his. Certain.
ly. A letter was handed me. placed Il
side by side with the letter which
Grant had written me Just before m,
marriage, and which had fortunatel!
preserved. I'compared the handwrit
ing; then returned the authors lette
to the publishers.
THANK you." I said. "I find an
mistaken. My friend is not such a for
tunate man as hoped to find him.
Then went my way. Mistaken! Nc
was not mistaken. hut feared lest. 1,