Year: 1879

eff you can't be quiet and obey with
outa question you must stay behind, Ly
dia answered, in the same hard unnatura
voice. ''Be quick and choose, for I have
no time to waste"


She sat down and wrote letter to hel
husband, inclosed the torn pages she
had found, and poured out the mad ieal
ousy of the past weeks that had this day
eliminated.


81 have done now, people were right
you loved her and not me; and now that
she is rich and am poor, am toe
proud to wait till am cast off, So &c
and you need not follow me; you could
not find me even if you wished. Re
member that henceforth your life is free
from me. Think of me as dead, if you
like. In your hands is the only proof OF
our marriage-destroy it; nothing will
then stand between you and peace. !
have only to beg you to forgive me foi
allowing you to link your fate with 9
miserable and impoverished wife instead
of with an heiress, as you hoped"


The letter ended as abruptly as it be-
gan and was sealed and placed on brakes
writing table. Dorcas came softly into
the room crying in a little quiet way.
Everything was ready-they could go.


Late that evening Leonard Drake re,
turned to be Mortified by the news that
his wife was not there, though the do
mestic had supposed, from what Dorcas
said, that she had gone to Dover to meet
Mr.. Drake. Leonard took light and
hurried to the room where the first OBJ
ject that met his eyes was the letter Ly-
dia had written.


X


Five years have elapsed since Lydia s
disappearance. But she looked older
even than that. The agony of that day;
the hurried flight afterward; the constant
fear of discovery, and lastly the struggle
for bread. combined with her never end
ing heart ache, had begun to cut wrinkles
in her still fair face.


In all this time she had never heard of
her husband nor of her early home. She
was too proud to return to her father.


II will starve first" she often said,
clenching her hands.


Whether Leonard was alive or dead
she did not know, nor did she wish to
know. Sometimes she said to herself,
moaning on her pillow at night: "He is
with Mrs. Dorchester, and the thought
went through her heart with actual ply
sical pain, like the stab of knife.


She and her faithful Dorcas were set
tied in Boston now, in an obscure corner
as the least likely place to be discovered.
She earned scanty living, and it was
one of the scantiest, by coloring photo
graphs. Into the more fashionable
streets she never yentured, except when
she had to go to sell her sketches, or to
get orders. On one of these occasions
she came suddenly face to face with Mrs.
Dorchester. She turned and fed i'm
mediately regardless of errand-fed
down side streets and close alleys-and
only stopped to breathe when she had
reached her humble lodging in one of
the most secluded parts of the city. But
hardly had she closed the door, hardly
had she begun to tell Dorcas that they
must fly, when Mrs. Dorchester unan
nounced forced herself into the room.


81 have followed you," said the latter
unceremoniously as Lydia rose angrily.
''I will speak, Mrs. Drake"


''Have the goodness to leave my room
I no not know You, nor the name by
which you have addressed me-" answer
ed Lydia.


''You have been mad long enough, F"
sternly exclaimed the visitor, sitting
down. "Try to come back to your
senses. [ shall not go till l have ex-
planned. A few words will do it. Your
husband and I, instead of being what
you thought, were trying to keep great
misfortune from you or, if that could
not be done, to break it to you carefully" "


There was an air of truth about the
speaker that staggered Lydia. Sine sank
nerveless into a chair.


81 must tell the whole story in order
to exculpate ourselves. Your father got
into difficulties, forged my husbands S
name to large amount, and was on the
point Of exposure when he died. The
affairs came into my hands to SETTLE


Lydia sat leaning with elbows on the
table before her, her face supported on
her hands. listening and looking as if at
her doomster.


81 could have prosecuted your father,
but it would have sent him to die in
prison" continued Mrs Dorchester, ''and
would have publicly disgraced all the
family. You l knew, by name, as the
wife of my cousin, with whom 1 had
been brought up in the country as a
child and whom I loved as brother-as
a brother, nothing MORE" she added,
emphatically. Besides was a woman,
and I hope not cruel one. So I refused
to prosecute, suffered the loss of the
money, and hushed the matter up"


A groan burst from Lydia.


Mrs. Dorchester went on: 'sThen /
met your husband unexpectedly. He
had received some hints about your
father and he insisted cn knowing the
truth. He then said you ought to be
told. But replied that it would only
pain you needlessly; if you continued
estranged you might never hear the
story. He answered that it would come
to your ears, sooner or later. This is
IL