The Cotton Factory Times. — 1888-03-09 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

CHAPTER XX.—Continued.  - -------Edgar's sternly-put question, "Where is Lottie Lennox ?" threw Miss Morley into great consternation. She did not meet it with the cowardly reply of the first murderer—. I know not. Am I the girl's keeper 2" To do her justice, she did not conceal that she was the author of her disappearance from Heatherbrae. Her conviction of the propriety of what she had done had suffered no change, though she had been much troubled by fears regarding Lottie's unknown fate. Frankly, and with words of justification, she detailed all the steps she had taken—narrated her journey to Heatherbrae, her meeting with Lottie in the glen, the conversation that ensued, with its results; their departure together and arrival together in Edinburgh, where Lottie wilfully and against her strong remonstrance left her.  "And you took no steps to find her? You have been silent all this time, though you knew that, perchance, a horrible fate had befallen her?" _ _  What Could I do? She resolutely refused to come here, as I wished, and threatened to return to Heatherbrae if I interferred with her in the slightest degree." _ _  r‘ Ay, and rather than risk the loss of what you, in your sinful pride, call family honour, you would sacrifice human hearts and human souls. I thank God, aunt, that I have not imbibed these false worldly notions. But if you are really concerned on Lotto's account, as you say, it will, perhaps, relieve you to know that I have found her, and our marriage will, I expect, take place very soon."  The expression of concern and regret left Aunt Dorothy's face at once, and it grew hard and bitter.  "So," she exclaimed, "she has broken her word and communicated with you. I might have expected tins. Her aristocratic rearing could not eradicate the vicious tendencies of her disgraceful birth. Well, be it so; destroy your family if you will—l have done my best to save you and it. Go—leave me, I can hold no intercourse with a destroyer of our name and race."  Edgar looked at her and smiled. Instead of going away as she imperiously commanded, he went close up to her, as she stood on the hearth, drawn up to the full proportions of her tall figure, and, laying his hands on her shoulders, said in a kindly tone—  "Aunt Dorothy, I cannot find it in my heart to feel resentment. As things have turned out, your abduction of Lottle has produced a blessed result, for it has been the means of bringing the old gipsy to confess a frightful fraud. Lottie is in reality the daughter of Mrs. Lennox, and therefore worthy, even in your eyes, to be my wife. Sit down and listen to the story." • Aunt Dorothy did sit down, and did listen with breathless intensity. What she said and she felt will be best understood by the reader, when we say that next day she was almost on her knees before I.Jttie, asking for her forgiveness, which the fair girl readily extended. Aunt Dorothy snatched her in her arms and burst into tears—the sweetest, purest tears that had perhaps ever welled from her eyes.  Three days later the same carriage in which Lottie and Aunt Dorothy travelled from Glenorton was conveying them thither again. But on this occasion it had a third occupant, and to the inmates that made all the difference between the former grief and woe and the present joy and ecstasy.  By it letter previously sent, Mrs. Powers and Miss Hamilton expected them, and, when the carriage drew up to the door, Lottie leapt from it into their outstretched arms.