XXXIX.

Auckland Star, Volume XVI, Issue 3807, 21 October 1882, Page 2 (Supplement)

XXXIX.

THE OUTCOME OF A GKEAT, CRIME. Leavo her to Heaven And to those thorns that in her bOßom lodge To prick and sting her,

—Hamlet. For hlio in wise, if I can judgo of her ; And fair she in, if that mine eyes bo true, And true sho Is, as sho has provod herself; And therefore, llko herself, wise, fair, and true, Shall sho be placed in my constant soul. —MunciuNT of Venice.

"0, Eleanoue!" cried I, making my way into her presence with but little ceremony I fear, " arc you prepared for very good news ? News that will brighten these pale checks and give the light back to these eyes, and make life hopeful and sweet once more ? Tell me," said I, stooping over her where she sat, for she looked ready to faint. "I don't know," murmured she, " I fear that what you will consider good news will not seem so to me. No news can bo good but—" "What?" asked I, taking her hands in mine witd a smile tint ought to have reassured her, it waa one of such profound happiness. " Tell mo jdo not be afraid." But she was. Her dreadful burden had lain upon her so long tint it bad become a part of her being. liow could she rcaliso it wa* founded on a mistake; that she had no cause to fear the past, present or fnture I But when the truih w.n madi known to her; when with all the fervour and gentle tact of which I was capabU, I showed her that h«r m.picions hod been groundless, and |that Trucman Harwell, and not Mary, had been tho pcrprotrator of this deed, her first words were a prayer to be taken to Mary—"Take mo to her 1 0, take mo to her! I cannot brea'he or think till I have begged pardon of her on my knees. O, ruy unjust accusation! My unjust accusation I Seeing tho state sho was in, I deemed it the wisest thing I could do. So procuring a carriage, I drove with her to her couein's

homo. " Mary will spurn mo ; she will not even look at me, and she will bo right," cried she, as we rolled away up tho avenue. "An outrage like tlrs can never be forgiven. But God knows I thought myself justiliod in my suspicions. If you knew—" "I do know," 1 interposed, "Mary acknowledges that the circumstantial evidence ugait'athcr was so overwlielminp, she vtf almost daggered herself, asking if >hi> could be guiltless with such proofs against her. But—" " Wait. O wait: did Mary Eav that?" "To-day?1

" Yes." " Mary must be changed." I did not answer; I wanted her to see fof herself to how great an extent! But wh'n, in a few minutes later, the carriage stopped and I hurried with her into the house which had been the scone of so much misery, I was hardly prepared for the difference in her own countenance which the hall-Hght reveulod. Her eyes were bright, her sheeki were brilliant, her brow lifted and free from shadow; so quickly Hoes the ice of despair melt in the sunshine of hop™.

Thomas, who had opened the door, wa« sombrely glad to see his mistress agiin, " Miss Lo*vonworth is in the drawingroom," Raid ho.

I nodded, then peeing that Eleauore could scarcoly more tor agitition, asked her whother she would go in at onco or wait till she was more composed. "I will go in at once ; I cannot wait." And (slipping from my gra«p, she crossed the hall and laid her hand upon the draw-ing-room curtain, when it was suddenly littod from within and Mary stepped out. "Mary 1" " Klcanore 1" The ring of ihoso voices told everything. I did not need to glance that way to know that Eleanors had fallen at her 'cousin's feet, and that her oou-in had affrightedly lifted her. I did not ;need to hear, -" My sin against you is top great; you cannot forgive me! followed hy the low—" My shfline is great enough to lead mo to forgive anything !" to know that the life-long shadow botween thess two had dissolved liko a cloud, and that for the future, bright days of mutual confidence and sympathy were in store,

Yet when, a half hour or so later, I heard the door of tho recoption-room into which I had retired, softly open, and lookiug up, saw Mary standing on tho threshold with the light of true humilty on her face, I own that I wjs surprised at the extent of the softening which had taken place in hor haughty beauty. " Blessed is the shame that purifies," I murmured, and advancing, held out my hand with a respect and sympathy I never thought to feel for her again.

The action seemed to touch hor. Blush, ing deeply, r ho camo and atoed by ray side. " I thank you," said she ; " I have much to be grateful for; how much I never realised till to-night; but I cannot speak of it now. What I wish is for you to come in and help me persuada Kleanore to accept this fortune from my hands. It is hers, you know, was willed to her, or would have been if — "

" Wait," said I in the wild trepidation which this appeal to me on such a subject somehow awakoned. " Have you woigood this matter well? Is it your determined purpose to transfer your fortuuo into your cousin's hands?"

Hor look was enough without the low, Ah, how can you ask me 2' that followed

Mr ClaveriDg was sitting by the oido of Eleanoro when wo entered the drawingroom. He immediately rose. "Mr Raymond," said he, drawing me to one side, " before the courtesisa of the hour pass between us. allow mo to tender you my apoioay. You have in your possession a document which ought never to have been forced upon you. Founded upon a mistake, the act was an insult which 1 bitterly regret. If, in consideration of my mental misery at that time, you can pardon it, I shall feel forever iudelned to you ; if not—" " Mr Clavcriog," I interrupted, "say no more, iho occurences of that day belong to a pasf, which I for one have made up my mind to rorget ns soon as possible. The future promi«o<i too richly, tor us to dwell on by-gouc miseries."

And with a look of mutual understanding and friendship we hastened to icjoin the ladies.

Ot tbe conversation than followed, it is only necessary to state the result. Kleanore remaining (inn in her refusal to nccept property so stained by guilt, it was finally agreed upon that it should be devoted to

the erection and eustaintnent of some charitable institution, of magnitude sufficient to bo a recognised benefit to the city and its unfortunate poor. This settled, our thoughts ruturned to our friends especially Mr Veeley.

"He oug'U to know," said Mary. "He has grieved like n father over us." And in licr spirit oE penitence, sin would have undertaken the unhappy ta a k of telliiKhim the truth. ' °

Bnt Eleanors, with her accustomed generosity, would not hear of this. "No, Mary," said she; "you have suffered enough. Mr Raymond and I will go."

And leaving them there, with the light of growing hope and confidence on their faces, we went out again into the night and so into a dream from which I h.ave never waked, though the shine of her dear eyes has been now the load-star ot my, life for many happy, happy months.

(Concluded )