The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1898-02-19
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CHAPTER XXIU.-(Continued.)

should be between them. In days gone
by l never spoke of your poor rather >
faults never allowed anyone to men
ton them to me. If any Of the neighpors
ever tried to talk about him, l would not
allow it. SO. my darling, do not CONSIDER
that there is any idle curiosity IN what l
am about to say TO you. l thought you
were 50 happily married, my dear; ana
it is bitter disappointment to me TO ma
that such is not the case"
There came no reply from Lady Ar
leigh; her hands were held before her
eyes.
Il am almost afraid dearly as l love
You to ask you the question: Margaret
continued; but Madaline, will you tell
me why you do not live with your hus-
band?'
Il cannot, mother" was the brief reply.
rs it-oh, tell me, dear.-is it any fault
of yours: Have you displea sed him!
IT is through no fault of mine, mother.
He says so himself
rs it from any fault of his? Has he
done anything to displease YOU"
No she answered, with sudden
warmth. ''he has not-iIEeed, he could
not. love him So
Then. if you have not displeased each
other, and really love each other, why
are you parted in this stEange fashion:
Ii seems to me, Madaline, that you are
his wife only in name"
You are right, mother--and l shall
never he any more; but do not ask me
why-I can never tell you. The secret
must live and die with me-"
Then shall never know it, Madaline!'
Never mother" she answered.
But DO you know, my ,arllng, that it
is wearing your life away?'
Yes. | know il, but | carlr rot alter mat
tens. And, mother" she COM inued, IF we
are to be good friends and live together,
yon must never mention this to me
again"
Il will remember" said Margaret kiss
ing the thin. white hands. but to herself
she said matters should not SO continue.
Were Lord Arleigh twenty tin es Il lord,
he should not break his wife's heart in
that cold. cruel fashion.
4 sudden resolve came to Mrs. Dorm
ham-shc would 20 to ReechgTUve and see
him herself. if he were angry and sent
her away from Winston House, it would
not matter-She would have told him the
truth. And the truth that she had to tell
him was that the separation was slowly
but surely killing his wife.
CHAPTER NNIN.
Margaret Durnham knew no peace until
size had carried out her inteation. One
day she invented some excise for her
absence from Winston House. and start
III on her expedition, strong with the love
that makes the weakest heart brave. She
drove the greater part of the distance,
Irr.-n,
to walk the remainder of the way-she
did not wish the servants 10 know whittier
She was going. Il was delightful morn
ing warm, brilliant. sulny. The hedge
rows were full of wild roses, there was
faint odor Of newly mCWn hay, the west
cry wind was soft and sweet.
As Margaret Dornham walked through
he woods. She fell deeply into thought.
Almost for the first time great doubt
had seized her, Il doubt that made her
trpmble and fear. Through many long
wears she had chung to Madaline-she
had thought her love and tender care Of
more consequence to the child than any
thing else. Knowing nothing Of her faith
cr's rank or position, she had tlattered
herself into believing that she had been
Madalinc's best friend in childhood. Now
if she had stood in Machines light, in
stead Of being her friend?
Suddenly her face grew deathly pale,
her lips flew apart with n terrified cry,
her whole frame trembled. She raised
her hands as one who would fain ward off
= blow. for standing just before her, look
ing down on her with stern, Indignant
eyes. was the stranger who had intrust-
ed his child to her.
For some minutes-how many she never
knew-they stood looking at each other
he stern. indignant naughty, she trem-
bling. frightened. Cowed.
Il recognize you again." he said, at
length. in a harsh voice.
Cowcd, suhdued, she fe,l on her knees
at his feet.
'Woman," he cried, where is my
ca!d:'
She made him no answer, but covered
her face with her hands.
Where is my child" he repeated. Il
iurrnSted her to you-where is she?"
The white lips opened. and some feeble
answer came which he could not hear.
Where is my childE" he demanded.
"Nhat have you done with her? For
heavens sake. answer me- he implored.
Again She murmured something he
could not catch. and he bent over her. If
ever in his life Lord Nountdcan lost his
temper, lie lost it then. He could almost.
/ in his impaJirncc, have forgotten that it
wA> Il woman who WAS kneeling ut his
feet, and could have shaken her until she
/ spoke iuteligihly. His anger was so
great he could have struck her. But he
/ controlled himself
Il am not the most patient of men,
/ Margaret pornham." he said land YOU
4 are trying me terribly. In the name of
heaven, / ask you, what have you done
| with my chldf'
Il have not injured her" she sobbed.
] as she living or deadE" asked the earl,
/ with terrible caImness.
/ She is living" replied the weeping
/ woman.
Lord Mountdean raised his face rever-
/ e"Jiy 10 the summer sky.
Thank heaven" he said, devoutly: and
/ li"E added, turning TO the woman-"Liy-
/ me- and wcllf'
No, not well; hut she will be in time.
/ Oh, sir. forgive me, l did wrong. per
hap~. but | thou=ht l was acting for the
best"
It WAS 4 strange best" he said. ito
H'ac" child beyond its parents each"
oh. sir" cried Margaret nornham, Il
never thought If that! She came 10 me
in my dead child's p,ace-it was To ne as
though my own child had come back
again. You could not tell how | loved
her. Her little head lay on my breast.
Ter LITTLE fingers careSSed me- her little
! Voice MurmurCd sweet words To me- She
MAS my own child loved her 50. sir"
and the poor wum2n's voice was broken
with SohS. All the world was hard and
cruel and cold II n.e-rhe child never
was; all the world disappointet? me-the
child never did. Ny heart and soul chung
to her. And then, sir. when she was able
u run about. Il pretty, graceful, loving
child. the very joy OF my heart and sun
shine Of my lie. the doctor died. and l
Vas eft alone with her"