The Warwickshire Herald. — 1896-03-19 (Birmingham, West Midlands, England)

GEORGE."  She road it over and over again, with blanching face. George gone, and gone for ever. Oh, it was snrely a cruel jest! lie would not have de,erted her than. Even while she stood there at the open window, stunned and wondering, the voice of Jane, the maid, reached her ears m excited exclamations.  "Miss Alice—oh, it's awful. They found him —dead—murdered. He was shot, and he'd just left you. Oh, poor Mr. Duval !" ".Jane, what are you saying ?" " Yes, it's true. Mr. Duval was found down in the hollow—and he's' been killed. Somebody shot him—oh, it's awful. He's laid there all night, they said, and there's no clue." No clue. Alice's cold fingers closed upon the letter in her hand. No clue—and then she saw George Allison's passionate face and heard again his threats ; she recalled the skulking form in the moonlight, her own premonition, the sudden 1117.11 t. Stay, did not his own words condemn him—  But you will never be happy with the man who has usurped my place." Oh, horrible thought! George was the guilty one, and he had fled from justice. "Heaven help him, he was mad !" thought Alice "anti I—l cannot betray him." She went to her room and destroyed the letter; then a revulsion bf feeling overcame her, and she fell to the floor in a dead swoon. No one suspected Veorge Allison, and Maurice Duval's death was unavenged. • • •  Four years later, in the palatial dwelling of Mrs. Thacker, a fair, pensive-looking girl sits before the hostess, listening to a recital of misfortunes with a faint, indulgent smile. Mrs. Thacker makes it her special mission to descend from her high estate to search out the poor and needy, but she is equally fond of relating her own good deeds. Suddenly she starts, and turns towards a gentleman who is approaching. "Ah, you are in town again !" she says. "So pleased Miss Maydew, permit me, Mr. Allison." So they meet again, and for an instant strange pallor settles upon Alice's face; he is cool and nonchalant, end greets her as a stranger. She answers his light speeches in a constrained way, wondering at his composure. How can he bear the gaze of her eyes? Can he not read an accusation there? Alice had, been in the city but a short time. The death of a relative left her in possession of a modest fortune, and she plunged into social quicties, hoping to forget the past. How miserable memory had made her! Often she saw the face of Maurice Duval, and it seemed as if he was reproaching her for not doing her ‘liity. She was glad George Allison never crue,:ed her path. Now, however, they had met, and she learned that he had been prosperous in his professioe, and they were likely to meet often. The days that follow that first meeting are full oh torture to the poor girl; it is as if she ere the guilty one. George cannot understand her strange manner, her avoidance of him, her shrinking and evident abhorrence of him. One nit at a reception he picks up a jewel that luur fallen from her hair, and as their fingers touch she draws beck with a shudder. " Alie .."' ways, suddenly, "I expected in. d'^'• 'me°, but w • this aversion ?"  "Can you ask," she breathes, in suppressed tones, and her glance is full of horror. "I have not forgotten Maurice Dnval's death." His coolness drove her to make that thrust, but he did not wince..  With a strange look he turns aside. " I shall not trouble you long with my hated presence—l am going to Australia," he says. She looks after him with moody gaze. How can he, with the weight of crime on his soul, act and speak as he does to her who knows his secret  Does ha not fear she will Dome day reveal tho truth? .  "Miss Maydew," says Mrs. Thacker, an hour later, "will you call to-morrow to see that poor woman I was telling you of Mary—you know. The case is an interobtiug one, and I cannot go as I expected." "I will go willingly," answers Alice. And the sunset hour of the morrow nnds her in a plain apartment, whose onlylpecupant is a haggard, feeble woman, a woman Wio has once been handsome, but whom misfortune and the ravages of disease have reduced to a human wreck. "She's bad, miss, very bad," one of the neigh. hours had said to Alice. " She's been talking so Queerly, and oars attention to wsob.siv. I sent