Hutchinson gazette. [volume] (Hutchinson, Kan.) 1895-1902, 1896-08-27
CHApTER VI.-fCovr1NuEp.

that this strong-willed man nd forced
her to fly with him perhaps half against
her wish. could believe that she was
unhappy, that she was penitent, that
she loved me still. 1 could do more
than forgive, could take her--l shoula
be forced to take her-again to my
heart; even to trust her, and be proud OF
her glorious beauty. Yes, l could do
this-after had seen Eustace Grant ly-
Ing ltfeless 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 pam
the latter bore the London postmark,
Il 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 a great
change in me. If had ever been ap-
preaching that state in which a man ac-
cepts the inevitable, it lifted me out Ol
1t.
II 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 I loved her, and there were times
when recalled her sweet face ana mar
yeled how evil could have lurked be-
meath such mask.
left Herstal Abbey and took up my
quarters in town. There l shoulu Dc
ready to start on the moment heara
where Grant was to be found. But
somehow was beginning to think tnat
our meeting would be brought about by
pure chance. London is the place where
all chance meetings occur. There are
few Englishmen who do not visit the
capital, either at shorter or longer in
teryals. Something must bring Grant
there; so 1 waited and hoped.
Chance, pure chance, brought about
what I longed for, but in the way ex-
pected. 1 did not stumble across my
foe in the street; did not hear cnance
mention Of his name, and so hit upon
some one who knew him. found Eus-
tace Grant in this wise;
This year book, which at once look
the public's fancy immensely MADE us
appearance. It was but novel, YET a
work the depth and research OF which,
combined with It's 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 as being
a nom-de-plume. Perhaps the book was
not the less read because a certain
amount Of mystery was kept up as TO
who had really written it.
Sometimes, not often, sincethatcrusn-
ing blow had fallen upon me, read
what happened to come in my way. This
particular book was one which came in
INV way. 1 began to read 1t, and am
hound to say that the opening chapters
ware written by so mastery q hand
that I at once experienced something
of the general interest which the tale
had called forth. But before had read
Il half through, my interest and excite
ment were such as no author has by his
merits ever awakened in any reader. l
gave a fierce cry Of triumph. l threw
the book from me as if it were rep
tile. I had found Eustace Grant!
For one chapter Of that book con-
tanned an account of the hero's journey
ing through 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
related and which were sufficiently
droll and strange to impress them
selves on my memory, were in these
pages once more narrated. Eustace
Grant was the author of the successful
hook. 1 thanked my memory, which
had in a second brought his adventures
back to my mind; and memory brought
back more than this.
Il brought back Viola, listening with
smiles on her face to her guardians (as
she called him) amusing recital. 1t
brought back the days when wooed
her; the day when l 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 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 Rad robbed me, and l laughed
the laugh Of a devil when 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 I called on the
publishers Of the book. l told them !
had reason for believing that It's 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 nv M other 7 asked IL they