Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1896-12-28

ed against the cruelty of dragging an old
woman like herself away from England
inst as she had returned to it; but there
was that in her voice and manner Wnlch
told me she would for my sake make
far greater sacrifice of comfort than this.
| thought that Phlippas spirits, like
mine, rose as we left London behind Us.
She smiled at my sallies and feeble at
tempts at making merry, which, now that
we Were fairly on our road to safety,
were not quite SO forced as they had
been during the last few days. She lis
tened with interest to the pictures /
dreW-imaginaIy ones of cOurse-of the
beauties of the south; and | was glad to
believe that the thought of visiting what
might almost be called her ma
tive land was beginning to awak
be able to show her that life could still
promise pleasant future, and the moody
| memories of the past months might DC
| banished forever.
| am sure that no one who could have
seen us that morning would have
| dreamed that out of that party of three,
| consisting of comfortable, pleasant
| looking English matron, a strangely
! beautiful girl and myself, two were fly
| ing from the hands of justice. Our ap-
| pearance was certainly such as to dis
arm all suspicion.
| DIJ where are we SOIllS dShcu u1S
mother. Il object to go wandering about
without knowing where our pilgrimage
| is TO end
1--WE are going to Paris first, then to
| Spain-tG wherever we can lind the
warmth and sunshine which is necessary
| to my existence. If we can't find them
in Spain, we will cross over to Africa,
and. if needful, go down to the equa-
tor"
':Then you young people will have to
go alone. | draw the line Of my good
nature at Europe.
curved lashes hid her eyes; but a tell
tale blush was on her cheek. | knew
| that the day was not so very distant
| when she would answer my appeal as L
wished. | knew that, could | but sweep
away the record Of that one night, all
| might vet be well with her. Oh. that
| she may never recall what | alone knew!
AS we were nearing FolkestOne, | re-
membered the Letter which had been Civ
en- me at the bank. | drew it from my
breast. intending to read it; but the
sight of the Roding postmark on the
| | remembered Mrs. Wilson's half prom
| Use to send me some communication. L
! longed and yet I dreaded to break the
| seal. / felt it would be better for me
to read the letter alone. Whatever
! might be the tenor of it's contents. l was
|
| relations with Sir Mervyn Ferrand.
We were soon on board the steamer
and under way. Although the Arctic
rigors of the last three weeks had de-
parted, the air on the sea was too keen
to make the channel passage an enjoy
able one. | persuaded my mother and
| Philippa TO take refuge in the salon;
and then [ found a quiet spot where L
was able to read my letter without fear
| of interruption, or Of betraylng myself
! by the emotion it's contents might cause.
! It was well did So for the first words
| blanched my cheek. The letter began
! abruptly, so:
81 know or guess all. | know why
| Sir Meryyn Ferrand did not reach
my house that night know the
reason for her strange, excited state.
know why she left my home before you
came to seek her. l know how he met
with the death he deserved.
''Ah. she is Drawer than | am. She
has done what years ago | swore 1
would do: and yet I had not the
courage. | was base enough to forego
revenge for the sake of the beggarly
maintenance he offered me-for the sake,
perhaps, of my children. | sank low
! enough to become his tool-to DO as he
| babe me, even to taking under my roof
the woman who thought herself his wife.
| Yes. she has been Drawer than l. But
| her wrongs were greater than mine; for
| / had but myself to blame for being III
| such a degraded position that he could
| throw me aside like an OLD glove. He
never married me.
Fear nothing for your sister, it she be
your sister. Tell her my lips are sealed
| to the death; and for the sake of her
brave act tell her this:
''Sir Meryyn Ferrand's first wife died
on the 18Th of June, 1856. three months
| before the day on which he married
your sister She died at Liverpool, at
No 5 Silver street. She was buried in
| the cemetery, Under the name of Lucy
Ferrand. She has friends alive; it will
be easy to prove that she was the WOm-
an whom he married. Her maiden
name was King. He hated her. They
parted. He gave her a sum of money
on condition that she never called her
self his wife. He lost sight of her. [
never did For years [ hoped she would
die, and that he would marry me. She
died too late for the hope to be realized.
| told him of her death; but | changed
| the date. ] would not tell him where
| she died. Part of his object in coming
to ROding that night was to endeavOr
| to wiring the information from me. He
would never have had it. No other Won-
an should have been his wife so long
as | could stop it.
''Now that he is dead, you can tell
your brave sister that she may, if she
! likes, take the name, title and what
wealth she can claim. Fear nothing
from me; | will be silent as DEATH
CHAPTER VIII.
FLIGHT.
[ read the woman's letter again and
again-read it with feelings in which JOY
and disguest were strangely mingled; but
the former was the predominant sensa-
ton. In the first place, if Mrs. Wilson
kept her promise of secrecy, it seemed to
me that all danger of suspicion falling
upon Philippa was removed. There
would be no one else to make known the
fact, that upon the night of Sir Mer-
vyn's death a wronged, distracted wom-
an left her home-a woman whose LIES
happiness had been clouded by the vii
| lain's treacherous act-a woman of
strong passions, who in her temporary
delirium might easily be turned to take
such vengeance for which |, at least,
held her quite unaccountable. If [ could
but feel sure of the silence of the one
person whom l dreaded, we might even
| ,1N{IY 10 4. Il 1Al