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; tho deadly passions running riot in his nature.
. Voice issuing from the lowest depths of hell.
\ the time for me to bind you to silence—silence
212
THE INTERNATIONAL —
would I swedrto a lie!” she-said passionately,
“You set-fite to the lodge, knowing who was
sleeping within its walls, and if my father had
not been in time to save him, you would have
Been his murderer!”
That word—the word with which Vivienne
had once branded him, called to swifter life
He raised his arm, as though he would have
dashed the look of resolute scorn from her
flashing eyes, his clutch on her arm holding her
as in a vice. ; Poor i
“Once more!” he hissed, the: livid veins
awelling out on his brow and throat, ‘* Swear
.thoye words shall never ‘pass_your lips again,
or, by Heaven, Pll secure silence at my own
price 1” wad
A freezing horror rushed through Nora's
heart as she looked into his face; terrible with
the dark purpose fixed -on every feature, |
vibrating. in every low-muttered ‘word that
came through his clenched teeth.
| “He will kill me!” she thought, reading her
doom in his gleaming. eyes. ‘{If he could
seek to destroy one life, he would not spare
another, Oh, God! there is that look on his
face; he will kill me!” :
He saw her eyes pale and dilate beneath his
faze and, with sudden vented passion,-he let
is ipraised ‘arm drop—drop, until his strong
pitiless hand was round her slender throat ;
until she sank struggling and helpless in his
power, : .
‘Let me go!-. Don’t kill me, for love of
Heaven!" she shrieked, making fierce efforts
to tear herself from his ‘hold. | ** Will no one
hear me !—will no one save me? . Let me go—
let me gol” “at
Her words broke from her in a cry of terrible
anguish—of wild fierce despair 3. but no sound
came in answer, save the low, fiendish laugh
that came from thé lips of Guy Ruthven—came
hissing above the summer stillness, like a
_ “Tt is too late!” he muttered, while he
watched her writhe in torture in his merciless
ip. ‘You have defied me, and now comes
that will rest unbroken till the great day of
doom 1” . we .
The girl’s soul shrank with horror as the
. }words rang through her brain—as she felt her
“(strength give way, like a reed snapped in his
iron grasp. -- bore
She gave one wild, breathless struggle—a
struggle that seemed to hold in the very air its
spell of terror; then came a dull, deadly sound
—a death-blow from a fellow-hand, and silence
—silence, fathomless and awful, as though in
that one fell blow earth and heaven had rolled
away, oe ‘
. CHAPTER X.
THE deep shadows of night hung like a pall
over the woods before Guy Ruthven emerged
from the gloom of the close-growing trees—
‘before he again made his way towards Sir
Hector’s household,
: -How stealthily, how silently he crept from
the darkness, pausing and glancing backward
with every step, his brow bent, his feet seeming.
‘to cleave to the earth, as though the weight of
his guilt held him back to the crime he had
‘hidden in the solitude gf the woods, - .
In the silent seclusion of the wild forests,
he had not shrunk from the ghastly deed.
lying red upon his soul; and yet he feared to
stand under the bare cover of heaven—to let
the light from the pale, watchful stars ‘shine
down upon his pallid face—the face that might
‘betray the secret branded in his every thought
—the secret he had buried away with such
eager, heavy’ hands—the secret which would
4eave him free from blame in Vivienne’s eyes,
which might yet win for him her trust and love,
: He drew a long breath as he stole fromthe
shadow of the thick trees, and then started
and came to a sudden standstill, as though the
, sigh had been echoed back to him from the
* dense woods, .
“Fool! What have I to fear now?” he
jou ht in bitter self-mockery as he felt the
maddened beat of his pulses. . “It is dona;
there {s Gothing that can betray me—nothiag
—never know the work I had in. last night’s
terrors. How stifling the air is! How the stars
seem to burn and mock the fire in my eyes!
My God! it was hard work—hard work! I
thought it would never end 1” :
It! With what deep, hideous meaning that
word was freighted !—with what dark terrible
mystery !
Even Guy Ruthven, whose hand had wrought
relentlessly the hellish deed, shrank from the
remembrance of the long hours passed with
hia lonely, staring crime—the crime he had
buried away from the face of the earth.
“Nobody will know—nobody will ever
know !” he muttered, his heated mind grasp-
ing continually at this thought. “And the
girl—the girl would not be silent. It was the
only way. What does it matter now? She
will never speak again—will never rise up to
accuse me, and I—I am free!”
-There was a ghastly, unholy triumph in this |.
thought—a triumph that seemed to be devour-
ing his heart and setting his whole being on
re,
Earth and sky seemed to reel in a red seeth-
ing flood, and before him there floated Nora’s
white face, with the dark tangled hair wound
about her slender throat, and the great wide-
open eyes fixed upon him with dumb accu-
sation.
‘*It is the girl’s beauty that is in my mind,”
Ruthven thought, as though unable otherwise
to account for the phantoms haunting his brain.
“* Nothing else could make me think so much
of it—nothing else.”
When he reached Northcote, he made his way
straight to the billiard-room,
. His absence had scarcely been noticed ; in
the early part of the morning he had told Sir
Hector he was likely to be‘away for some hours,
owing to an appointment he had about twenty
miles off. An old friend—a collegian of his—
hearing of his stay at Northcote, had begged
him to look him up, and Ruthven had found
it an easy matter to excuse himself for the day
from Sir Hector’s hospitality,
_ Sir Hector greeted him warmly ; he had been
having rather slow play with the vicar, who
had taken Ruthven’s place at dinner, and he
was glad to see his guest back again,
**T am glad you have returmed in time for a
game. I was afraid we should not see you to-
night,” Sir Hectorsaid kindly, ‘‘ By the way,
I hope you told your friend I shoald be pleased
to make his acquaintance if he ever feels dis-
osed to come this way; it would be far
Letter than losing your company for so many
hours.”
**You are very hospitable, Sir Hector,”
Ruthven replied, taking up a cue and making
a few random strokes, ‘I'll give Dick your
message ; he’s a clever fellow, and will bring
plenty of amusement with him. We had not
met for years until to-day; but it is marvellous
how talking of old times calls back a nearly-
forgotten friendship. He has changed a good
deal in looks, too. He was scarcely more than
a headstrong boy when last I saw him; now
he’s as fine a fellow,as you would meet in a long
day’s march.”
uy Ruthven acted his part well, and no
suspicion came to Sir Hector that his guest was
speaking but the truth,
Yet he noticed-the haggard expression on
Ruthven’s face, and thought he must have found
the day fatiguing.
** You are not looking so well as usual,” he re-
marked, when Ruthven stepped full in the light
of the green-shaded lamps. ‘I expect the dis.
turbed night we had had something to do with
it, However, I suppose we have nothing more to
fear, and we must congratulate ourselves on the
lucky escape of everybody.”
“It was certainly risky for.the fellow in the
lodge,” Ruthven replied, moving out of the
light, and keeping his face partially averted,
** By the way, Sie Hector, what reports have
you of him ng . :
“He is better,” Sir Hector said, with a gri
laugh. ‘The shock seems to have don him
more good than harm. I saw him atthe
pindow psi passed this evening, and he didn’t
ook sa bad as I expected he vy ¢
acconnts I have heard.” vould, from the
Ruthven turned so that his face was quitein
he
“T have not had the pleasure of ‘seeing her
to-day,”-he said slowly, as though the words
eame with difficulty from his lips, ‘I hope
. shé is well?”
Sir Hector looked up with a careless smile.
It was seldom he thought seriously of his
daughter ; she seemed in some way to live her
life apart from his, and so long as she made no
complaint to him of the dull existence forced
upon her at Northcote, he was not troubled
with any anxiety on her account.
Last night’s upset has not damped her
spirits in the least,” he replied, as with a few
strokes he scored off the winning number,
and left the vicar calmly smiling at his own
defeat. ‘*In fact, I never have any cause to
trouble about Vivienne; with all her delicate
looks she must be as strong as a young bear,
for I don’t know when she’s had a day's illuess,
or a day’s depression of spirits.”
The vicar sighed as he sank on to one of the
seats,
Vivienne’s wild brin Ing up had been a sore
point with him, and he elt that an invalid
mother, scarcely able to leave her room, was too
frail a guardian for the girl, who had been left
to grow up so entirely mistress of herself.
' “Tt is a pity—a great.pity Miss Merrisfield
ever allowed her governess to leave her,” he
remarked after a pause, speaking in his
blandest tones, ‘‘ Miss Philistine was a most
¢harmingcompanion; intellectualand practical.
I was, indecd, sorry to lose her from your
household,” ,
‘I cannot agree with you,” Sir Hector te-
plied good-naturedly, ‘‘‘fo tell the truth, I
was rather relieved when Miss Philistine left
my roof. She was too solid in her learning,
and I don’t think she got on too well with
Vivienne.” .
The: vicar looked grave, but he held his
peace, and Guy Ruthven was the next to make
a remark upon the subject.
TI hope Miss Merrisfield will soon have a
different kind of guardian,” he said, with a
| meaning glance towards Sir Hector; ‘one
who will govern her only with tenderness
and esteem. I think Sir Hector understands
me: oo
“Tam happy to say that I do,” Sir Hector
responded, laying his hand heartily on Ruth-
yen’s ehoulder, ‘My one wish for Vivienne
is to seo her yourwife! What do you say to
this, my friend?” he added, turning to the
vicar,
“I shall be ready with my congratulations
when the time arrives,” he said, risin: slowly ;
and with an air of earnest pleasure he shook
hands with Guy Ruthven and then with Sir
ector,
Not one of them cared what sacrifice these
congratulations might wring from Vivienne.
The vicar thought nothing could be better for
Sir Hector’s wilful daughter than this marriage
with Guy Ruthven, °
@ had been alarmed more than once by
meeting her, galloping along at a headstrong
pace, in some lone 'y part of the country; an
of late, suspicious rumours had reached his
cars—rumours that arose from the strange
intimacy which seemed to have risen between
Vivienne and the new groom. :
He longed to give a hint of what was in his
mind to Sir Hector; to warn him of what tho
gossips had whispered for so many days past, +
Yet it seemed, if she was to become Guy
Ruthven’s wife, if Sir Hector was at last giving
some thou he to his neglected daughter, he
could lay. his anxieties at test, and nced no
longer fear for the future of Vivienne.
Perhaps his mind would have lost some of
its tranquillity if, even while he was thinking
thus, he had seen Vivienne steal from the
house, and make her way towards Ruth Kelly’s
cottage, : 1
Weary of the prosy conversation between
Sir Hector and the vicar, she had bidden
them food night before seeing them’ go to
the bi liard-room, and after a brief visit to
Lady Merrisfield’s room, she had thrown al
cloak over her robe of soft embroidered sill,’
and escaped gladly to the roof that shelteredt
Cyrus Davenant—Cyrus Davenant, known to
her through all_ this lowly disguise ; loved by.
her because of the cruel, Helpless suffering that
that cad givea. clue to the .secret I have | shadow, and his voi ,
stowed away! And Vivienne will neyer poor tasked alter Vivienne. sounded husky 8 ad a wallaigh down to death,
phe Ug T Tr 6 T tT: