The record-union., 1896-05-31

| was pOdSllIS lnaI ne SHOulu, perhaps,
not marry her after all. My blood boiled
at the idea of Ethel being in this mans
power, and as I walked back to the
Hall that night I determined to do all
in my power to save her, and win her
for myself if possible. 1 would be
silent lover no longer.
A few days later I was at the Hol-
royds', and it SO chanced that | had
very good opportunity of mentioning
the subject of her engagement. Some
discussion arose, I forget what about,
but it led Mr.. Holroyd to remark:
Such an arrangement would be i'm
possible, Ethel; you will be married be-
fore then"
She looked rather startled for mo-
ment, and then said, Il suppose so.'
Afterwards 1 referred to the CONVEX
sation. We were alone.
why were you startled, Ethel?" I
asked.
TT is startling to hear ones marri-
fact" she answered; especially when
it has always seemed such a long way
off"
L don't think that is quite the rea-
son, is it?"
w hat uO you IltdH
Ethel" and then I paused. Know
ing the state of affairs SO imperfectly,
l was on dangerous ground. Ethel,
1 have very good reason for believing
that you are not happy in your engage
ment"
The color in her cheeks died down
into pallor
There is something behind / went
dc RI
Mark Gilman. You are forced to
main a secret
She turned from me hastily as If to
leave me- and there were tears in her
eyes.
Forgive me. I have no wish to dis
tress you. 1 know this by pure acci
dent-have only known it for a few
days"
You know the secret?" she said.
mo. Ethel, is your sacrifice neces-
sary?"
1T is necessary" And then she
added recklessly, What does it mat
ter? If 1 am the price Of silence who
cares? ?"
'I do"
For a moment she looked at me,
Sll dlSGl IlIlO NY eyes, dlIN illS1 IlSI >
fell.
Don't you understand" I whispered
"In honor, I dare not speak, knowing
that you We're engaged-knowing moth
ing of the mystery behind. l love you,
Ethel. Cannot 1 save the secret as we'll
as Mark Gilman
mo, Frank, no. I wish you could. 1
wish it with ali my heart. Don't speak
to me-please don't l cannot bear it.
Let me go; and, Frank, don't come near
me again until this hateful marriage is
over-untn love for us is impossible" q"
l caught her hand and kissed ii. Burn
ing and passionate words rushed to my
lips, but she silenced me.
1t was maddening to know that she
loved me- and that only a cursed secret
stood between US. For days l hardly
went outside the Hall, turning plans
over in my mind how I might discover
the secret. 1 made a desperate resolu-
ton; L would cultivate Mark Gilman.
I would bid him welcome to the Hall.
There was still old and generous wine
in the cellars. Mark Gilman should
sit and drink, until his tongue was
loosed, until he grew boastful, as he
lhad done at the Ball House" that night.
and then 1 would ply him with ques-
tions, calculating questions that should
entrap him.
My resolution was not destined to be
carried out. On the very morning that
I had determined to drive over to Sib-
ley and make the first overture of
friendship to my rival L heard that Fe-
lix Gilman was dead; had died quite
suddenly in the night.
Latterly I had almost forgotten the
sealed letter in my possession, but the
news of the old miser's death put his
nephew out of my mind for the time
being. sI walked to the Tower to make
| sure that the news was true. An old
woman came to the door.
} Yes, he's dead at last" she said, in
answer to my inquiry. 1T will be good
news for Mr.. Mark. I've sent over to
him. but he amt arrived yet. Would
7 you like to have look at the old man %
/ had almost refused, but after mo-
? ment's reflection said I should like to.
1t would be well TO be quite certain
r that he was dead. He lay straight as
B.. an arrow, on small truckle-bed in the
corner of a barely furnished room.
r His thin face, even in death, had a sin
r lister expression upon it, and he looked
= as if he might at any moment break
= into the salae unpleasant chuckle as
= he had done in my den six months ago.
1 thanked the old woman, and was
; glad to get away from her rather
t ghoulish company, she seemed so salts
| fed that her master was dead at last
= perhaps expecting a legacy.
e l went straight back to the Hall,
r locked myself in my den, and read the
A letter. 1t was very precise:
= LAS my heir, my nephew, Mark Gill
= man will have the Tower, and all such
e moneys as come from the estate. The
hoardings Of years I give to you, Frank
i Gilman of the Hall, Roston. On the
< night following my death, as soon as ii
; is dark enough to escape observation
l either from those in the house or those
S who may be passing along the road &C
e | to the Tower. In the stable yard, next
e to the coach house, there is a shed, and
y on moving the rubbish and thin layer
of earth in the right-hand back corner
r you will find trap-door. Under the
h opening you viii find a bundle of cord
t it will fall down the hole, forming a
n rope ladder. Descend, closing the trap
q after you. 1t is not a very deep hole
e and at the bottom you will find a pas
), sage. You need not fear to strike a
z, fight there; the place is we'll ventilated
/, | | have spent much of my life there. Al
Il the end of the passage you will find a
n door. To open it, measure a yard to-
r wards you frcan the center of it, and
o then a yard to the right; you will find
: a loose flag, and under it a key Sc
e you enter my treasury. The treasure