The Birkenhead News and Wirral General Advertiser. — 1890-02-05 (Birkenhead, Merseyside, England)

THE SHADOW OF THE PAST.  tux warn sassamo. J  CHAPTER IL  Lzrr alone, M. Le;our listened to the sounds made by the retreating pair till they died away in the distance Re then carefully fastened the door, surveyed every portion of the room, and re-arranged the lights in such *manner as to throw no decided shadows on any elegie. Placing himself beside the table, he again took up the letter of the abbess, and carefully leveraged it. An expiession of bitter mockery Bitted over his features as he read again and again, • single gentence, and he sneered : Cleverly expressed, faith! I Until her reversionary expectations are realised.' In plain words, till I 1411 dead and out of the way, they will keep the girl, In consideration of the rich inheritance she may claim. Ha! they don't know as mach as I do about this eatete, or they would scarcely calculate on the right of my granddaughter to inherit it. It would be • good trick to let the greedy cormorants keep the girl under the impression that she is the true heiress, and when the evil one claims me, leave behind me the proof that she has no legal claim on • single SM. I have half • mind to do so, for it will be a risk to have this girl here. Vl'hat can Ido with her f Diegust ber with life, and make her commit suicide, or take refuge in her convent again? The last is not • probable alternative, after her energetic protest against the life of • nun. The first a little unpleasont to contemplate, as she really is bone of my bone, and Bah of my flesh. Ugh! I hated her father, I cursed her mother, and now their child must come to me at last, to beoome the solace of my declining years. Ha! ha! a joyful consolation the daughter of Julien Durand is likely to became to me---tne, accursed as I am among men, bearing • geared heart and withering brain; mocked at by friends, haunted by a phantom whose minima is to avenge the dead, even before I swell their ghastly ranks. No, no, no; let her dwell amid peseeful, Godfearing women, even if the monotony of their existence does eat into her weary soul. Better even that, than the awful existence she must lead with toe." Chap 2  He seized a pen, and rapidly wrote : "Adzienne,-1 dare not grant your prayer to come tome. I have no fitting home In which to receive you, and my heart is closed to every appeal from your I a child. He was my corny—l loathed him; I burled my malediction upon the ungrateful daughter who forsook me for him; and now you, their child, ask to be taken to my heart! "It is impossible, for that heart has become a bale- I ful flame of hate, which consumes itself, and leaves I no genial spot on which love can repose. lam a man ! blighted by the indulgence of my own passions. See, ! I do not throw the blame on others; I know that my career has been evil, my conduct towards those nearest to me harsh and crueL Therefore am lien in my old age isolated, hopeless, yet not utterly wretched. "I have my own pursuits; innocent they now are, and I wish to have no further temptation to evil. Should you come to me, my old propensity would return; to torment, to abuse the power placed in my bands is the irrevocable law of my nature, and I must obey it. "Poor child! remain with the good sisters; they will be kinder to you than I ever can; they are innooemt, they are pure, and you will not be contaminated by coming in contact with guilt. "You cannot brighten ma. lam but a blighted ruin, around which no ivy may twine its clinging verdure. I can bestow a small endowment upon the convent, which will secure to you s respectable position among its inmates. Beyond that I cannot go, for my possessions are much over-rated, and the bulk of mywealth must goto other claimant'. It will be best for your earthly, as well as your heavenly welfare, for you to remain in your present secure and respectable asylum. Believe me, that weary as this lot seems to you, it is far preferable to the future you would embrace In coming to me; therefore I must lay epon you my positive command to remain in your convent. ETIENNI LICCOTIEO A few lines were then rapidly dashed off in reply to the superior • Madame,—Tour letter has been received by me and perused with much surprise. I have been under the impression that the child of my deceased daughter was received as a prohge of your own, without reference to the pension it has betn my will to pay you. That has been withdrawn at my command, for Adrienne has now reached an age which will enable her to be of use to you in the school under your supervision. She is now eighteen, and for two years past has been been quite capable of earning her own living by as,isi log you; nay, I am well informed that such has been her employment, and yet you aik of me money to defray expenses she has more they paid by her services, "You ask from me authority to retain her with you, and plainly insinuate that such authority will be a guarantee that my fortune shall eventually be absorbed in the coffers of your convent. Madame, I will reveal to you a secret teat may become important to you. My wealth is simply a life interest in a large landed estate which was the iuheritance of my second wife, Madam Louise Menden, ate Montreuil. Adrienne bar no claim upon it; the law of Louisiana is rigid upon that point, and there are claimants enough to dispute the sueceesion, if I should be so silly as to bequeath it to any relation of my