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DORA THORNE, 101
pale, agonized face had vanished—watch-
ing the eddying ripples and the green
-reedgs, Yet he never sought to save her—
never plunged into the deep waters
whence he might have rescued her had
he wished. He never moved. He felt
no fatigue. The first thing that roused
him was a gleam of gray light in the
eastern sky, and the sweet, faint song of
a little bird.
Then he saw that the day had broken.
He said to himself, with a wild, horrible
laugh, that he had watched all night by
her grave. :
He turned and fled. One meeting him,
with fierce, wild eyes, full of the ‘fire
of madness, with pale, haggard face,
‘full of despair, would have shunned
him. He fled through the green park,
out on the high-road, away through the
deep woods—he knew not whither—never
looking back; crying out at times, with @
hollow, awful voice that he had been all
night at her grave, falling at times:on
his face with wild, woeful weeping,
praying the heavens to fall upon him and
hide him forever from his fellow-men.
He crept into a field where the hedge-
rows were bright with autumn tints. He
threw himself down, and tried to close
his hot, dazed eyes, put the sky above
him looked blood-red, the. air. seemed
filed with flames. Turn where he would,
the pale, despairing face that had looked
up to him as the waters opened was be-
fore him. He arose with a great cry and
wandered on. He came to a little cot-
tage, where rosy children were at play,.
talking and laughing in the bright sun-
shine.
Great heaven! How long was it since
the dead girl, now sleeping under the
. deep waters, Was happy and bright as
they?
He fled again. This time the piercing
ery filled his ears; it seemed to deaden
his brain. He fell in the field near the
cottage. Hours afterward the children
out at play found him lying in the dank
grass that fringed the pond under the
alder trees.
* * * * * &
The first faint flush of dawn, a rosy
light, broke in the eastern sky, a. trem-~-
ulous, golden shimmer was on the lake
as the sunbeams touched it. The forest
birds awoke and began to sing; they
tlew from branch to pranch; the flowers
began to open their “dewy eyes,’ like
stately swans came out upon the lake,
bending their arched necks, sailing round
the water-lilies and the green sedges.
majesty,
fair face of nature—it was full and per-
fect day. .The gardeners came through
the park to commence their work; the
cows out in the pasture-land stood to be
milked, the busy world began to rouse
itself; but the fatal secret hidden be-
neath the cold, dark water remained still
untold.
CHAPTER XLI.
The sun shone bright and warm in the
breakfast-room at Earlescourt. The rays
fell upon the calm, stately face of Lady
Helena, upon the grave countenance of
her son, upon the bright, handsome feat-
ures of Lord Airlie. ‘They sparkled on
the delicate silver, and showed off the
pretty china to perfection. The break-
fast was upon the table, but the three
occupants of the room had been wait-
ing. Lady Helena took her seat.
“Tt seems strange,’ she said to Lord
Earle, “to breakfast without either of
the girls. I would not allow Lillian to
rise; and, from some caprice, Beatrice
forbade her maid to eall her, saying she
was tired.”
Lord Earle made some laughing reply,
but Lady Helena was not quite pleased.
Punctuality with her had always been a&
favorite virtue. In case of real. illness
allowance was, of course, to be made;
put she herself had never considered 2
little extra fatigue as sufficient reason
for absenting herself from table.
The two gentlemen talked gayly dur-
ing breakfast. Lord Earle asked Hu-
pert if he would go with him to Holte,
and Lord Airlie said he had promised to
drive Beatrice to Langton Priory.
Hearing that, Lady Helena thought it
time to send some little warning to her
grandchild. She rang for Suzette, the
maid who waited upon Beatrice, and told
her to call her young mistress.
She stood at her writing-table, ar-
ranging some letters, when the maid en-
tered. Lady Helena looked at her in ut-
ter wonder—the girl’s face was«pale and
seared.
“My lady,” she said, “will you please
come here? You are wanted very partic-
ularly.” .
Lady Helena, without speaking to
either of the gentlemen, went to the door
where the girl stood.
“What is it, Suzette?’ she
“What is the matter?”
“Bor mercy’s sake, my lady,” replied
the maid, “come upstairs. I—I can not
find Miss Beatrice—she is. not in her
room;” and the girl trembled violently
or Lady Helena would have smiled at
her terror.
“She is probably with Miss Lillian,”
she said. ‘‘Why make such a mystery
Suzette?”
“She is not there, My lady; I can not
find her,’’ was the answer.
“She may have gone out into the gar-
den or the grounds,” said Lady Helena. :
“My lady,” Suzette whispered, and her
asked.
frightened face grew deathly pale, “her.