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+ itis so good of youl{ she returned gent-
“I realize how hard it must be for you
"hen you remember that my mother’s dis-
-<qjrace is the first. that has ever stained your
! s#oble family, .Perhapssome day you will let
me tell you the story, and then you may find
i little sympathy for the woman who was
‘driven to the act of which she was guilty to
ave her child from starving.” . :
“And my uncle ullowed that torture , to
- rest upon his wife? I wonder that you can
ook upon one of us,’ knowing that it was
one of our.blood that caused you such suffer-
ine!” "
. * It was not his fault.”
6
i those!” Mr, Pryor cut in. ‘Iam going totake
«s her home with me now, Pyne, You will know
‘where to find her when you want to see her,
and you also know that you will:be always
welcome.” .
. “+ They shook hands again and.separated.
#3: Andrew Pryor led Leonie, stiJlin her ragged
‘costume, down to his carriage, placed her in-
side «with old-school courtesy, and gave the
order for “home.” | > :
“‘T-can hardly realize it,” he exclaimed,
;° when he had closed the door, ‘‘that you are
», really a girl! What a surprise it will be to
: Mrs. Pryor and the girls. And you put on
* that costume as asort of private detective ?”
. “Oh, no! Iputit on because after I dis-
, covered Miss Chandler to be dishonest I was
_ arrested as an accomplice, and in order not to
be forced to tell my story, Iran away. I did
. What I have discovered about
my birth, came to me as the result of acci-
dent!” e
‘‘A remarkably timely accident! If I can
4 curb niy curiosity until we get home, I must
- hear all about where you went when you
_ left my house, and how you happened to be
_ detained. I shall keep you talking for a
week.” 7
There is just one thing that I must.do
first of all if you will let me,” returned Leonie,
almost reverently, ‘‘ and that is to pay a visit
‘to Liz. Poor woman! But for her, I might
* still have been there in that room surrounded
demon, Mauprat. Ihave felt within the last
‘. few hours as though the life of that help-
less child of hers had been the price of my
freedom and of Lynde’s restoration to his
fortune.” :
_ © Lynde’s restoration?”
. “Yes, certainly. And it seems to me that
1 owe her a debt that never can be repaid for
fs that, not to speak of her great kindness to
er I think I should have gone
me. But for
mad.”
»-* Yes, of course you shall pay the visit.
Thatisall right, but what is this about Lynde’s
fortune? Surely you know that if you prove
yourself the daughter of Roger Pyne the
money is yours.” :
“The money is not mine, sir. My father
~. tnever even knew of my existence, and Ihave
‘no more right to the money than you have,
Surely a man has the privilege of leaving
-mioney that is his where he wishes. But I
‘tell you this, that right or wrong, I would put
‘my hand in the fire and burn it off before I
’ ‘touch a cent of it. It was never intended for
*-\me, and I will have nothing todo with it.
Please say nothing more about it, but let this
_ Settle it forever!” :
* CHAPTER XXXIV,
NOTWITHSTANDING .the extreme cordiality
. of her reception by Andrew Pryor; Leonie felf,
naturally, some misgivings regarding the wel-
*-,°eome she would receive from the feminine
{Portion of the household. . .
+ |» She was, however, prepared for anything,
oe
,%.%.8he heard the exclamiations of delight that
‘and it was with a most thankful heart that
i Were Unanimous when she was seen at the
o seor of the drawing-rons, Gn company with
“ry Pryor,
“This is not the time to speak of things like |.
by rats and~beaten almost to death by that];
aif} don’t know what: we should dasrith y
for giving.us the fright that you have!” cried
Mr. Pryor has not slept a night since you lef
us so unceremoniously.” + | :
Leonie colored vividly, and even Mr. Pryor
looked a trifle sheepish. : .
‘* Before you make any more such remarks
as that, my dear,” he exclaimed, laughingly,
‘*you had better let me tell you the romance
that clings to my private secretary! He is
not a man atall, but a young woman who
happens to be the first cousin. of our little
friend here, Miss Edith Pyne!” . :
lf he intended to create a sensation, as of
course he did, his object was achieved to its
fullest extent. : .
There was not a word spoken in the room
for many moments, Mrs, Pryor being the first
to break the silence.
‘But I don’t understand it at all!” she cried.
“Ts not this Neil Lowell?”
Leonie stepped forward, her brow colored
crimson, . : . -
“I don’t think that I should have had the
courage to face you after my deception, dear
Mrs. Pryor,” she said, timidly, ‘‘ but for the
cordiality of your husband. - If you will al-
low me, when I have more time than now, I
will explain to you the reason for my assum-
ing male attire and passing myself off upon
our kindness in a false light. J hope you
will forgive me.” - - ts
“There is nothing to forgive, absolutely
nothing! And you are really the cousin of
Edith Pyne?’ .
_ * You read that remarkable story in the
papers this morning, did you not?’ cut in
Mr. Pryor. « ‘‘ Well, this is the child of that
marriage.. You may be sure the papers will
contain many sensational points to-morrow
that they failed to get to-day, and New York
will be more surprised than it has been for
many days.” '
“I don’t know what your name is, Neil
Lowell,” exclaimed Edith, with a merry
Jaugh, ‘‘ but I am very much pleased that
ou are my cousin, and before you take off
your boy’s clothes, I should like to kiss you!”
There was general merriment, of course,
but Mrs, Pryor’s next question put an end to
it .
* And Miss Chandler,” she said, ‘‘ what had
she to do with it?”
_ There was silence for a moment, then An-
drew Pryor answered: :
‘This young lady is in haste to pay a call.
While she goes to change her dress I will tell
youall that! Gwen, or the one of you that is
nearest your size, will furnish you with
clothes, my dear, until your wardrobe can be
changed. Run away now, and be back as
quickly as you can.” soos
Understanding the kindness of the inten-
tion, Leonie gave him a glance of gratitude,
and followed the girls from the room.
Laughing, chatting, asking a: hundred
uestions inas many seconds, they went on
their way asthough they had been friends
for life, and it was with a heart filled with
the sincerest of gratitude, that Leonie real-
ized that she had found friends at last, friends
who would never fail herin her bitter struggle
with loneliness and isolation.
They soon found a gown that would fit,
and not long afterward she announced to
them that she must make her call at the
hospital, oo .
Thecarriage was ordered to ‘the door, and
she was driven away withas much ceremony
and respect as though she were a member of
‘the family, where she was in reality but a de-
pendent, :
But as she rode onward her thoughts fled
from her own good fortune to that unhappy
woman who had done so much to aid her in
securing that which was more to her than her
life, and a great sadness took possession of
her. :
How good God was to her, giving her
name and friends when she had lost all hope,
yet how far He seemed from that poor creat-
ure lying there knowing that she must die,
and that the child whom she had.so much
loved, had preetded her, - :
The beantifueeyes filled
carriage stopped.” . a
“She explained to the: person in chargey of
ws th tears as the
the buildinz*who she was, and was i
a
fos
Mrs. Pryor, warmly...‘ T honestly think.that+-.
the little, asl
. Very guittly Leonia, ¢
kneeling beside t 16 béd; kissed
forehead.
** Don’t
gently, ~ . .
The woman smiled feebly, making an effort
to extend her hand. . ‘ te,
““T did not until you spoke!” she answered
you” know me, Liz?” she asked
weakly; ‘‘ but nothing could ever cause me - .
to forget that voice., You are Leonie; but _
how changed you are.”
‘* Borrowed plumes make changes in us alll’ ;
They have told you of the terrible things that
happened last night, have they not, dear?”
**“Yes; they came to take my statement—
ante-mortem, I think they callit??:
‘©Oh, Liz!) I hope it may not betrue! Do
not you know, dear, how we had planned to °
go away and live together? If you will only
get well, Liz, we can do that now.”
The smile upon the poor tired face deep-
ened.
. ‘That was before Dick died,” *she replied,
with as much cheerfulness as a rapidly dying
woman can express, | : :
**But you would need me all the more
now!”
“No. Ishall never trouble any one again.
God has been very good to me, after all,
Leonie. _He knew that I could never live
without Dick, and he placed a means in my
power without making me responsible for it.
They tell me that I sprung out that window,
but Ihave no remembrance of it, and I know
that He will not hold me guilty, My boy is
waiting for me, Leonie, just across the river,
and when I close my eyes I can see him as
distinctly as I can you, only that he is robbed
of his deformity and his rags. It does not
seem like little Dick, and yet I know that it
is he. The Lord has sent him to help his
mother safely over. Ihave not lived a guilt--
less life, Leonie, but for Dick's sake the Lord
willforgive.” ~~ :
“ And you are not afraid, Liz?” whispereds
Leonie, the awe of her tone making it ex-
tremely low. /
“* Afraid of my God?” returned the woman
wonderingly..
have known such torture here upon earth ?
Oh, no! I have been praying to God to have
mercy upon Ben and send him repentance,. -
That is my one torture now that Iam dying, ©
Thave not forgotten you, dear, and I never
shall; but here, just at tlie last, when I re-
member all the wickedness of his life, I do
not see how God ever could forgive him!”
* And yet you can!” .
‘‘Upon that I found my hope. Oh, Lecnie,
it seems so sweet to know that it is all over
and done with at last. All the old heart-
aches, the terror, the fear lest Ben should kill
my poor, helpless baby. Noone but God could
ever know what a hideous nightmare it was,
but it will be over now in a few hours at most.
Lhope you may be happy, my dear girl, and
that we may meet ifthat heaven that is prom-
ised to us all.” : ~
‘“*T almost wish that I could go with you,”
whispered Leonie, choking back her sobs.
“‘There is so little of happiness here, and su
much promised there. I know that Iam un-
grateful to Heaven. for all the kind friends --
that have been sent me, but my mother is up
there, Liz, and sometimes the desire is so
strong upon me to'see her and Dad, tobe with
them again, that I can scarcely control it.”
*‘T had forgotten them. I shall see them
before you will, dear.” :
“Yes, and if you can deliver them a mes-
sage for me, tell them that I ought to be ha
py, that lam ungrateful, but that the whole
craving of my heart is to be with them and
with God. Tell them that I have and shall do
only what I believe they would advise and
wish me to do. _ Ob, Liz, I wish that I might .
go with you!”
There was something curiously touching in
that scene, so simple and yet so explicit in its |
faith. There was not the smallest doubt in
the heart of either. .
The dying woman reached up her arms and
clasped them about the girlish neck.
“Not yet. dear,” she whispered.
should holl wsins things that are precious tq
ond £0 beatifnt ond so good as you. Heaven
has ust forgotten you, Only trust it all to
God) Bar whenins good days come, do not’
“ Afraid of Heaven when I |
“* Life -