The Chickasha daily express. (Chickasha, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1899-current, 1905-01-10
cHAPTER vL-aCoxrINurp.l

ness for saying So 4 could forgive. !
could do more: could persuade myself
that this strong -wiIled man had 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. ! could do more
than forgive, l could take her-I should
be forced to take her-again to my
heart; even to trust her, and be proud Of
her glorious beauty. Yes, ! could do
this after had seen Eustace Grant "
ing lifeless at my feet. Weak as was,
it could not be until thenl
Where was he? Where was She?
Were they together? turned again 70
the letter 1t gave me no information
as to the writer's whereabouts The
paper and the envelope were plain
the latter bore the London postmark.
1t was creased. which told me it had
been sent under cover, to be posted in
London. Sent to whom? The receipt OF
this scrap of paper worked great
change in me. If had ever been APP
preaching that state in which man ae-
cepts the inevitable it lifted me out OF
1t.
1t spurred me on to make fresh exer-
tions to discover the retreat Of the fu-
gitives. That Ietter-the letter written
by her I carried next to my heart day
and night. False as my wife had been
to me loved her, and there were times
when I recalled her sweet face and mar
yeled how evil could have lurked pc
meath such mask.
left Herstal Abbey and took up my
quarters in town. There ! should be
ready to start on the morent heard
where Grant was to be lJund. But
somehow / was beginning to think that
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
tervals. Something must bring Grant
there; SO / waited and hoped.
Chance, pure chance, brought about
what longed for. but in the way ex-
pected. did not stumble across my
foe in the street; did not hear a chance
mention of his name, and so hit upon
some one who knew him. found Eus-
tace Grant in this wise:
This year a book, which at once took
the public's fancy immensely, made its
appearance. It was but a novel yet
work the depth and research of which,
combined with its pathos and humor'
arrested all readers attention People
we're curious to know who was the au-
thor. The title page bore one of those
names which strike every one as being
a -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, since that crush
inc blow had fallen upon me, | read
what happened to come in my way. This
particular book was one which came in
my way. began to read it, and am
bound to say that the opening chapters
were written by so mastery a hand |
that | at once experienced something
Of the general interest which the tale
had called forth. But before | had read |
1t half through, my interest and excite
ment we're such as no author has by his
merits ever awakened in any reader. |
gave a fierce cry of triumph. threw
the book from me as if it were rep
tile. | had found Eustace Grant!
For one chapter of that book con-
tained an account of the heros journey
ing through a part of Switzerland; and
the account was the same as Grant had
given his auditors on the night l first
met him. and hated and mistrusted
him. Several Of the most amusing and
out-of-the-w 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
book. | thanked my memory, which
had in second brought his adventures
back to my mind; and memory brought
back more than this.
It brou-ht back Viola, listening with
smiles on her face to her guardians (as
she called him) amusing recital. It
brought back the days when ! wooed
her; the day when l told her my love;
the day when she was mine. as !
thought, forever; the day, the black
day. when she hed-when for hours and
hours l waited and would not believe
the truth. 1t brought back the last
two wretched years Of my life. It
brought back all Of which Eustoce
Grant mad robbed me. and / laughed
the laugh OF a devil when | thought
that the time was at hand when he
should pay me for his act
trod his book under my foot Hypo-
critic, who could write Of honor virtue
and truth, yet act as he had actedl
Well, his time has come at last!
But now to inc aim to know where
must go, to stand face to face with
him! The next morning called on the
publishers Of the book. ! told them I s
had reason for believing that its au-
thor was an old friend of mine. Would J
they tell me his right name?
They could not. They believed he {