The Haslingden Gazette. — 1903-10-10 (Haslingden, Lancashire, England)

THE SHADOWS OF ARDEN HALL.  AMY MILLER,  Author of The Jewelled Laggcr.•' "A Fateful Tryst," "Haunted NW," etc.  (Continued trxmn last Isaac.)  Secluded as was her life, it was plain, from Gibbons's account, that Clarice did not want for lovers. Her position was somewhat anomalous, and so they were of various stations. She mug hare possessed, in an eminent degree, that which a shrewd matron of modern fiction lies defined as "the come hither in the eye," for, although 010 111,111 poor and dependant, and, her own sex declared, not even pretty, she was the cause of noon quarrels, heartburnings and jealousy than any other girl within a radius of twenty miles. One young man especially, a certain Roger Manley, who was a gentleman fernier, was her denoted slave. To use Gibbons's expression "she led him a life," but everyone expected she would ultitnately accept him. She became, as time went on, 1110 re capricious, more coquettish, more disdainful to her admirer., bid she was always tender and kind to the widowed lady she served with daughterly- affection. The terrible thing that happened Came upon all in the !muse with awful suddenness. There was no warning of any impending coil, big one day Clarice Medway was found in her favourite retreat, the Oak redone. She had been slabbed to death.  The weapon was a dagger, brought from Italy, which usually lay upon the writing•table and was need as a paper-ctitter. Ilie crime had probably not been premeditated. It was murder, not suicide, the doctors affirmed. _ _  CimunvtaniMl evidence rointed clearly to Roger Manley as the murderer. lie had divappeared and had never vinee been heard of.  No wonder they kept the Oak Parhoar closed and all Clarice Medway • behantitig locked out of sight ! Arden Mali, that cheerfol mansion and happy home, had its grin' teem:. And 1 fell to thinking mind looked clottlitvra titialtt be in the hearts of those who dwelt there!  I pictured I his quaint panelled rnein al hen Clarice shed her sion.id ay presence tb. re. What a bright little Iscwer it most have reented In her lovers!  "Gobbons, said, sloull. "I roo going to fate sonic photographs /4 the Moll, soid I should like to include one of this room. Will you get ire the key %hen I uant it? It might vain Mrs. Arden to Lilt of this. _  "Yes, tni,s, I will get you the ley any time if you wish it. But lien muse funcy to allot picture of this unhappy place." It may have bean, but I was resolved to indulge it. As the former evening had to-en CO was tide, in regartl to motel and I.er lover. Ile came over (nun the Clllle after dinner. Time Oared toroth., She woke to restless animation in ilia presence and became mile and direpiritid when lie was gone. Neat day I brought not my camera. and before the day wan over I took it to the Oak Parlour, of which Gibbons had procured me the key. I disposed the furniture more tarelea=ly ; gave to the pretty quaint room an inhabited aTect, and BP I did so.I. thought what on admirable backgroard aould make time a porinlit study. The Lir face n-Id grneeftil rhape of Isabel, for instance, 901114 (tare looked charming against the casements hr th.e dark oaken walls. It was a pity I must take a pit-tore 41 ill life of 1 No words can express Inv in..po surprise and a., when I developtd that lir4 photograph. I had Liken, as I believed, n picture of an empty room, yet 1 51w clearly there, just beside the opt n window, thr Irrle rtf et !OLOIS g://: Her Lice sill turned towards lite—a tare that once fern must he always remembered, it was io 11111 of charm and vivacity. Her expression, her elude attitude, .mike of happy expretto ion. Her dress, coquet lustlly g.-areful and dainty. Wan of a bygore fashion, recalling to Inc certain old family photographs dating, bark to illy mother's guru 4. How in the name of all that was bewildering and eerie mune that girl into lily picture ? Since my arrival at the Hall I hail teen strongly attracted to Aihm Kinnaird, and she lisull met Inc , half-way in my overtmes of friendship. That ' Pleninr, though I had at first thoiight it beet to k.ep silence as to lay curious esperienee, I impulsively congaed it to her. She knew the story of the onk Parlour, and was ex.remely interested. I stewed her the photograph, and it was, her help . and el...aim:gement that induced me to persevere in S mos. grnesoine tack. I arank from it, I confect, like a very coward; hilt still I went on with it, little guessing the incur. A week went by. It wan the most trying week I had user known. I saw Isabel and her liver every day, together. I felt the day of that wretched marriage dinning very ilreir ; and I had, in addition, to parsec, secretly a teak that repelled me, filled we with nervous fear, set drew nie on hI ila end. I placed one day a finhhed photograph in Mica Kinnaird's hand, and she having chi:7,d at it, we stood listing into each Miler's white fares. All my life I had nejoiced its strong nerves end health without a flaw, but I began to sob Ihrterically. . .  "Olt, Ailsa, what is to be done ?" "fake courage, Nate," she said. "Ton Imre braved the horrors if that room for the last tittle. 1 suspected this all for I have heard every circumstance of that history. "Men is your lover  expected?" "To-morrow," I faltered. "Write to him. Tell him to bring his friend Laurence Weir with him. I know he is not invited nor will be wish to come. But he teas,. And do not tell Isabel what you have done. Mrs. Arden , will forgive us—aftrrwardg." I obeyed her. hot in the nervous and despondent note to which I had grown, I greatly feared Laurence Weir would rot