The Washburn leader. [volume] (Washburn, McLean County, N.D.) 1890-1986, 1901-06-29

believe that your mother possessed no
prouder title to your fathers love and
honor than his"
"Hush!" she interrupted. "Ah, mer-
ciful heaven, spare me this last foul In
suit from your lips!"
II do not wish TO hurt you, Beatrice:
but SO the world will name her, and
the world shall have the story in all its
bearings. Why should L show you
mercy-who show none to me? Is it
not madness to persist longer. in your
refusal? What does 1t entail Upon you
for the future? Your dead fathers dis
honor-your own Inheritance Of both
the maj you love a convict, your home
a mad house! Look on the other hand:
I clear from the dead the stain that
clings to them! I will give back to
Bertram Talbot the freedom he has
forfeited! I will make your life happy!
For the sake of the dead and of the liv-
ing-for the dead, whose voices would
unite with mine, and for the living,
whom your refusal will clothe in the
convict's garb-I bid o pause! Must
I not love you we'll that I should make
to you this prayer?" Z
Beatrice's brain was reeling. His
words held to her the confused mean
ing of a dream. s
What was left to her but to yield?
| She was in the spiders web, and no
merciful hand would free her, as hers
had freed the tiny, fluttering fly.
She could but struggle on until death
proved her deliverer-struggle on with
the tain forever resting on the white
hem of her dead mothers shroud, and
pay the forfeit Of her lovers liberty.
Why not end the hopeless battle, ac-
cept defeat herself, and wrap those she
loved best in the mantle of an unsuflied
honor? What matter the cost OF such
an end?
Leave mel" she murmured, in a
voice SO low and faint he scarce could
catch the words. .s'To-night bring me
the papers. prove all that you haye said
true, acknowledgements"
A wild wave of absolute rapture
swept over Randolph Chester's face.
He had schemed, and plotted, and
toiled, and at lastat last, victory was
within his grasp!
Once Beatrice Markham was his wife,
what mattered all the rest? Position,
fortune. honor-thes would be secured
to him. and revenge. revenge for ev-
ery slight she had offered him, revenge
for the very love he bore her, the love
which at this momen surged so madly
in his soul!
Before she had OWNED or could pre-
vent his purpose he had caught her
hands in his and strained them to his
lips.
AS though their touch lac been like
burning fire, h snatched them from
his hold and stood ar instant, OutrageQ
and defiant, only the next to remember
that this was but the hrst payment OF
the debt.
But he made neither complaint nor
appeal, as he silently went out from her
presence.
Once more she was alone. Again she
paced the limits of her room, until, ex-
hausted. she would rest, only to begin
anew. ,54
: The short afternoon deepened into the
shadow of evening. Ia
Ii the dim light she stood by her
window, looking out, when suddenly
she saw, standing beneath it, a man,
half concealed by the trunk OF a giant
oak against which he Yet h
imagined his eyes nxed on her WINDOW.
Suddenly he drew a handkerchief
from his pocket and cautiously waved
it toward her.
Who was he? !,
She looked more closely, and fancied.
It the figure of ryrrell, the lodgekeeper.
Surely. he could want nothing Of her.
Yet he was reckoning to her. It might
be a fresh trap, but at least 1t could be
nothing more terrible. Her promise Of
to-day precluded that.
The ghost. of a tiny hope stalked by
her side, as h swiftly sped down the
stairway and through the empty halls
to the place where he stood awaiting
her. He waited still.
''You wanted to see me?" she said.
'Yes, miss" he answered. II just
heard as how my master was going to
marry ye. and. bad as I am, I'm not
bad enough to let that happen. lit
I get We out Of his clutches, yen help
me out Of the clutches OF the law?
Promise me this"
81 promise-l swear 1t! But speak
sneak uuickly!"
"It's the papers. miss, as We said
would prove your lover innocent-will
thew be afther showing the guilty
manp" 15
..No. Ty1rrell. no; but they, viii en-
HE me to wrest myself forever from
M. chester.s cruel power. Oh, II you
can help me. do IL! Was It you who
tore the papers from my hands? III.