Chicago eagle. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1889-19??, 1899-07-01

Slowly then he uncovered his face and
looked at her. meeting her gaze. SO full Of
entrcaty, with well-assumed grief and
agony.
Now. my dear child" he gaspcd out,
what must you not have thought? What
must you not have suffered! oh. ! will
explain all to you presently-all! But
iirst let me assure you, my angel-child-
whom l have never really known till now
that that fearful thing OF which you
Imagine was guilty is without founda-
tion. Mabel, your father could never
nave planned such crime as murder.
That which I poured into the glass was
but sleeping draught, made to take Of.
feet In a few hours, In order that my cruel
enemy might he shipped of to America
whittier indeed he intends to go almost
Immediately. Once out Of the country. he
would not rcturn-fOr he breads crossing
the sea-and I could have arranged our
business by letter. 1t must be otherwise
now: but. my child, do not the less feel
your tender devotion. Hcnceforth l will
| strive to requitc it"'
Mabel experienced such n rcvulsiOn Of
feeling, such deep. incxplicable thankful.
ness that her father had not contemplated
| a crime, that she burst into tears, sObbing
out:
lis what you say truc--rcnlly true. dear
father?"
MY poor child" he returned soothingiy,
what can ] say to convince you? Moth
ting, perhaps; but let me take q dose my
self--then you will credit my assurance"
| and he made a movement as though he
would have poured something into
glass.
mo. no. father. cried Mabel. II am
already convinced. Don't drink Il! How
frightened I should b. to see you 90 into
a deep slecp!"
MY darling Mabel. never were you 90
dear to me as now. All, my child, you
have never known. never guessed, the Sc
cret Of my unhappy life! Tonight you
must be told IT,"
FEATHER. l grieve to give you a mo-
nient's pain; but perhaps It Ii better 1
should know lt-then I might turn away
my thoughts from II. As It is, night and
day I shall say to myself that there Is
some terrible, hidden thing In your lfe."
"Hiddcn-yes," he said. In a changed
and softened voice. hidden. and. though
terrible. not terrible In the sense Of being
disgraceful."
mot disgraceful. she cried. In a tone
| Of rapture. Then, after all. she need not
be separated from Neville; and she lifted
up her eyes In unutterable thankfulness.
CHAPTER XIV.
III there Is nothing disgraccful connect
ed with the secret of your unhappy life,
why need you be unhappy, dear fatherY'
asked Mabel.
| Dear child. you speak like an unsophis.
ticated, pure-hearted girl--as you are"
rcjolned Mr.. Charlford, with q melan.
choly smile. but to my tale. When you
and Dick were almost babies, I left your
dear mother to go with your uncle to the
West Indies to see my dying cousin, who
was enormously wealthy. and who had
gone abroad year before, hoping that the
warmth Of the tropics would prolong bis
life.
"Y0u have heard Of accidental resem.
blances 20 striking 40 to lead to cases Of
mistaken IDENTIFY Unfortunately, I had
not been long In attendance on my dying
cousin before I found that myself was On
Instance Of what have Just alluded to-.
There was man who often passed me In
the street, or whom now and then ran up
against-a man who regarded me with
looks no full Of indignation and scOrn that
ut length I addressed him. asking IL we
had ever met before.
Wretch he answered. with a men,
acing gesture. do you insult me further
by pretending ignoranccY You know
where we have met before! You know
that you have broken your promise not
to remain In the same city where she Is!
And you feign ignorance! Or course, you
are aware that she IL here. II you have
shred OF manly feeling. particle of
honor. leave this place before she becomes
aware Of your presence.
II warmly cntrcated my unknown nc.
c,lser to suspend his judgment until had
convinced him Of his mistake; but In vain.
I acquainted him with my name and the
object Of my journey. He merely became
more Infatuated.
"'As II two or three years could cheat
me of my senses!' he cried. Traitor. I
should recognize you In any place. even
; although we have met only once before
encountered you here! II you value your
miserable life, quit this city before IN
other sunset!
with that he rushed upon me, UMPIRE
pared. defenseless as ! was. Stunned by
the blow, ] fell, and knew no more until
found myself In bed In my hotel. II
seems that some bystanders interfered Il
save me, aud that my enemy-whOm
supposed to b. some lunatic--6ed. Not
; till long afterward did ! understand that
this man. Arthur Lane. identified me mis-
takenly with person who had grievOusly
: wrOnged him, aud sown discussion be-
tween him aud his wife.
II had recovered from the shock, and
had nearly forgotten the circumstance II
my daily visits to my poor dying cousin
aud In my thoughts Of home and OF your
mother, when, one day, feeling oppressed
by the heat. restless also with anxiety
because Of letters I had received from
England, concerning your mothers health
Il was unwilling to leave my dying rela
. tive, who implored me to stay with hin
till the last--I walked to a lonely place
outside the city, deeply engrossed by m!
own thoughts, asking myself what Ough
: to do In my present difficult position.
was unconscious that the man Lane VIII
had once before attacked me had d0gge,
my footsteps for some time. No present.
, ment warned me Of my danger, no guar
dian angel caused me to look up and b.
I prepared to meet my foe.
"Oh, my dear child, what followed wa
too cruel and wholly unfOreseen--unde
a served! Without an instant for prepare
> ton, l found myself suddenly called upOl
: to battle with my direst fOei and that 70
!. life.