The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-05-15
(Continued.)

Miles fell silent. He felt that he had been wasting time. All this spring he had been occupied with what he could not help owning, was a discreditable Irritation with a mar ried woman of no social position. And meanwhile, Vernon was the only girl he had ever seen whom he could fancy as mistress of Ponthewel.
 The ladies of Carronlea went to bed early that night, but a buster ing wind kept them awake. Next morning there were rolling boisterous clouds, strong breeze, and sunshine breaking out brilliantly by fits and starts.
 And on the breakfast-table was a letter from Lionel.
 So the end had come. Sentence was to be passed upon her. And to the girl it seemed now that the past dreary days had been bliss compared with what now lay before her.
 She could not rise and go to her own room. There she sat down,
 
 gripping her own composure as firm ly as she could. and broke the fatal seal.
 % Yes, it was all true. Her forebodings had been correct.
 Lionel wrote that his wife was dead. He had had proof of the fact. He was free.
 The letter was temperate and re- strained. It was evident that the man who wrote it had passed through much emotion. He said he had promised Father Conroy not to write until that day. And he had a re- quest to make to Vernon. Would she refrain from asking him any questions concerning the career of this unfortunate woman? He knew that she had right to the fullest proof of her actual death. Would she waive that right? He had tod Father Conroy everything. He. the priest. was in full possession of the proofs of the fact. Her last and only request to her husband had been that nobody should know the sad details of her life and circumstances, nor the manner of her death. He felt that he desired to respect that wish if he could. But. should Ver- non insist upon having legal proof in her hands. he must, of course. fur nish it. Would Vernon, before mak- ing up her mind on this subject. go to see MT. Conroy?
 And then came the rest. He could now ask her the direct question.
 Would she marry him? She had no need of professions on his part. He had loved her long and faith fully, his life had been an unhappy one; but if she said yes. none of that former unhappiness would count for anything She would never regret it. He would cherish her as never wife was cherished before: and a good deal more of the same kind, but with an underlying suggestion that the writer thought and felt more seriously than of old--that he appreciated and accepted the full re- sponsibility of life and placed his future in her hands as he hoped that she would do in return.
 There was but one thing to be done. She must go to wishf1eId and show the letter to Father Conroy. and tell him that, although she did not love Lionel, and now knew that she never would, she yet meant to mar ry him.
 Sultana was saddled. and she rode away in the gusty weather, relishing the battling of the wind against her face, disdaining the sudden batter of rain which now and then whipped her cheek.
 To-day, for the last time, she was free. To-day, for the last time, she was in her old surroundings. in the place which had grown so passion ateiy dear. Tomorrow, her future would belong to someone else.
 .;he could not realize this Her heart felt numb and stupid. She averted her eyes from where the Magic Pool lay. out of sight ,out Of reach. She thought she would nev- CT go there again.
 ar So she reached the village. and as usual stabbed her horse. slipped off her patent" and came walking out into the road, where the first person she met was Evelyn.
 a Vernon, Child, what have you been doing to yourself :.'' she cried
 ', Why, what's the matter with -me?"
 You look a perfect wreck"
 Its the sad effect of the emo tions," said Vernon, with a very small smile. 'I am going to be mar tried, Evelyn
 Ar She said it with a sort of defiance