Year: 1873

Lucy relapsed into braln-feVer, ana 1or
many days lay at the point of death.


Kind and compassionate friends ministered
to her, and her physician was untiring in his
care and attention, frequently never leaving
the house for several hours at a time.


Rumors were afoat regarding the strange
events which had occurred, but nothing GER
tain was known of the particulars of the
matters. All seemed to feel that tragedy
of some sort had been enacted, Of which Lucy
was, in some way, the victim, and pitied her
accordingly. Curiosity, Of course, was rife
throughout the neighborhood, for in such a
quiet section of the country as that in which
these events had taken place, anything unu-
sual and mysterious was sure to excite much
speculation and remark.


The bodies of Stanley and Bertha had both
been deposited in vault in the burying-
ground of Mossgrove. Tho kind physician,
DR.. Rumley, had seen to all the arrangements
of the funeral, which had been as private as
possible, being attended only by the immedi-
ate household and himself.


Mrs. Ford had not been seen since the fire,
and it was probable that, being dismayed at
the complication of rnisfortunes which had
occurred, and knowing that her services would
no longer be needed, she had taken advantage
of the confusion to withdraw as privately as
possible from the ill-fated house, and remove
herself to parts unknown. Some small but
valuable articles of silver disappeared at the
same time, and would, if searched for among
her movable possessions, most likely have
been found. Her trunk she left behind, but
as it only contained some of her clothing,
which even Melissa would have scorned to
wear, it was probable that the lighter luggage
she conveyed with her, added to the contents
of her well-6lled purse, contained enough to
indemnify her for this slight loss


Mrs. Carroll had been sent for at the be.
ginning of Lucy's illness, and the mother
hung in anguish over the couch where her
child was lying, raving in delirium, and toss
ing in the restlessness of disease, her heart
torn with remorse, and filled with bitter fears.
Should Lucy die, she could not, indeed, feel
herself accountable for her death; but her
conscience told her that she was the author Of
much of her sorrow, which, perchance, had
led to this fearful Illness She, too, was ig-
norant of all that had happened; but she
knew enough to excite the most gloomy ap-
prehension, and lead to conjectures of the
most perplexing and troubled nature.


Edward Carroll had accompanied his aunt
to Mossgrove, in order to give his protection
to the household and render any assistance
that might be required of him. His presence
was a comfort to her; for in this common
grief they seemed to be more closely drawn
together than ever before; and the thought
often occurred to her that, should her child's
life be spared, nothing could make her hap
pier than to see her united at last to the man
who had so long and so fondly loved her.


At last, after weeks Of anxious watching
and heartfelt prayers, Lucy was pronounced
to be convalescent The crisis of the disease
was passed; and though her strength was re-
duced to that of an infant, the physician had
sufficient confidence in her naturally good
constitution to predict that in time, though
very slowly, it would recuperate.


Her first anxiety was to be removed from
Mossgrove, for the gloomy associations con-
nected with the place preyed constantly on
her mind. AS soon as practicable, therefore,
it was decided that she should be taken to
Charleston, DR.. Rumley thinking that the
change of air and scene would probably bene-
fit her more than anything else.


Scarcely had this move been effected how
ever, before morbid fear of meeting any of
her old acquaintance took possession of her,
and she entreated her mother to take her to
some quiet place where she need not dread in
trusion. Mrs. Carroll thought that cheerful
society would be the best thing for her, and
combated this desire of isolating herself, as
long as she could, but finally was obliged to
tyield. A house was accordingly hired in a
small pineland retreat and thither they re-
moved for the summer.


Claude accompanied them; for Lucy had
resolved never to part from him., and he on
his side was equally anxious to remain always
with her.


A deep impression had been made on the
child's mind by the last solemn scenes he had
witnessed at the time of Stanley'S death, es-
pecially the interview between the latter and
the unfortunate Bertha, around which hung
a mystery he tried in vain to fathom. He
still believed that Stanley was his uncle, and
that Bertha was an unfortunate being placed
under his care, whose existence it had been
thought proper, for some reason, to keep Sc
cret from general knowledge; and Lucy, who
found all topics connected with that melan-
choly period too sad to touch upon, never un-
deceived him in regard to either particular,
until many years afterward, when he was old
enough to receive so important communi'
cation, and when she deemed it wrong to
withhold from him any longer the knowledge
of his parentage.


The little household at "the Pines" was a
dismal one enough, for none of its members
could rally sufficiently to introduce spirit OF
cheerfulness into their midst Edward Car.
roll came up from time to time to see them,
and his visits were the only CLEANS of sun
shine that lit up the gloom ftheir existence.
Mrs. Carroll's naughty spirit was completely
humbled by her daughters misfortunes, and
she seemed as incapable as Lucy of throwing
off the mournful impressions created by the
past