The Wilmington daily Republican. (Wilmington, Del.) 1890-1902, 1899-05-19
CHAPTER XIV.
TO THE BITTER END.


Mary only gave one Mortified glance
along the village street, ere she covered
back behind the shelter Of the white
dimity curtains.
Yes; it was hel The man who in law
owned her; the man who had bought
her with price; the man who had
treated her as bond slave. He was not
very much changed His hair and beard
were white, but his face was just as
weather beaten as of yore, and his gait
had the same pronounced sailors roll
He was apparently talking excitedly
and was gesticulating wildly with his
hands. Alan was listening, as he loung-
ed along with his hands in the pockets
of his jacket and his pipe between his
teeth.
The figures Of the two men passed
under the window and out of her sight,
but Mary stood there like woman who
was petrifed. Stood there, holding for
support to the frail curtain, waiting for
the blow to fall. She waited as Marie
Antoinette may have waited under the
guillotine. In five minutes it will be all
over; in four; in three; in two; in
one. 1t was close at hand-about to
fall Yesl She tore herself away from
the support of the curtain as she heard
a footstep on the stair Then Alan en-
tered the room.
"Well, sweetheart, are you not near
ly ready for breakfast ?" he asked.
The sudden revulsion Of feeling, the
overpowering sense Of relief almost
broke her down. She caught hold Of
the dressing table to steady herself. but
for second or two could not speak At
last she choked down the great knot in
her throat and asked him a question.
"Who was that you came up the
street with2'
He never looked at her as he answer
ed He was doing something to his pipe.
"Oh, chap who asked the way;
that was all. "
1.-THE way to whereP"
II directed him to Roathlyn. He is
half way there by this time. Come, let
us go down and get our breakfast"
She felt that the risk was immense.
She wondered what Edward Conway
was doing in that part of Cornwall She
had never heard him speak Of having
been in Cornwall; she had never heard
of his having any connection with any
one in Cornwall or with Cornish people,
and then she reminded herself, half Bit
terly, that she had known very little Of
him at all But what was he doing here
in ST. Agnes2 1t was no use Sinking
the situation. She must dare and risk
all at this juncture, Nothing would be
gained by cowardice And, after all, he
could never force her to 60 back to him.
He could only at the very worst expose
her. and In her case exposure would
mean the worlds pity, never Its scorn.
She drew her breath sharp between
her teeth, took her handkerchief off the
dressing table and turned and went out
Of the room and down the stairs, Alan
Stacey following. And in the best par
lor their breakfast was laid, and in two
minutes the delicate fried fish and gold.
en- fresh eggs were brought in.
"Fish or eggs and bacon, sweet
hearth SAID Stacey as the apple cheek
ed maid lifted the covers of the two
dishes
Eggs and bacon, thank you. Alan,'
she replied
She had never in her life felt less like
eating, but it would not do to arouse
suspicion by refusing to try to do 60
She poured out the coffee and listened
with a smile that was not very real
while Alan told her Of his farewell to
the old boatman.
At last he stretched out his hand to
her across the table
Sweetheart, he said, "you are
quite sad at going away. Would you
rather stay heref''
She answered him all in hurry:
"Oh, no, Alan; no, no. am all packed
and ready. Don't suggest such thing
What should make You give mo such .
Lots wife character as thata much
prefer to be going away. We have been
here quite long enough. II Is dear lit
Ito place. and you know ! always want
to stay in new plaoa forsver. 1t rs one