A STRANGE VOW.

Evening Star, Issue 8718, 9 January 1892, Page 2 (Supplement)

A STRANGE VOW.

[By A.A.6.]

(Specially Written for the Star.)

CHAPTER VIII.

Madge drove to her father's office, and luckily found him alone. She soon related the startling incidents of the day. " Traverses father dead and Charlie accused of this murder ! It's monstrous. The idea of him committing the crime. They may as well acouse me of it at once. What evidenoe have they 1 " I don't know, father, I did not ask. It's all very terrible. Go to him, he wants help. I told him I would send you." " You must rest, Madge. You look very ill, my poor girl. This has been too much for you. Stevens has gone out to Toorak. I shall take you to him before I go to Charlie." Granville was in the drawing room, and as they entered he saw their emotion, and asked what had happened. While Mr St. Martin told of the death of the elder Travers, and of the younger one's arrest, Madge sat listening to every word Granville spoke. After relating all there was to be told, her father quitted the room. Madge drank the wine offered her. How glad she was of it; it braced her up for the coming ordeal. Granville sat beside her on the couoh. He was silent and thoughtful. There was no pretence about bim now. " Granville, will you marry me to-morrow morning?" Madge abruptly asked. " Marry you ! Yes, Madge, certainly; but why this hurry ?" "Do you wonder at my consenting to marry you ?" " No. Why should I ? Are we not engaged ? Will your father approve of us marrying suddenly like this ?" "I do not know. If he does not give his consent we shall have to be married without it. It is imperative that we be married."

" I will marry you this minute if you like, my darling ; happiness cannot come too soon." As he moved to put his arm around her, Madge shrank away from him, and, rising from her seat, she exclaimed: " Granville, do you not know Mr Travers is accused of committing the crime ?" " Yes, but what has that to do " '* Hush, Bir. He did not murder him, and you know it as well as I know it." An ashen hue began gradually to overspread Stevens's face. He sat with bowed head.

"No, he did not do it. Listen, Granville ; I was near the gate when the deed waa committed. I saw the weapon in the murderer's hand. I saw him hide that weapon. Do you want to know why I ask you, the murderer, to marry me ? It is for my dead mother's sake, and to save you from the gallows. As your wife I cannot give evidence againßt you. I was the only witness. ?Jo evidence can convict Charlie Travers. Ho is sab, thank Ciod I We shall be man and wife in name only. After the ceremony we separate. Don't speak. Tomorrow, a*; eleven o'clock, 1 shall bo at St. Paul's Church. If you consent to go through this form with me, be there. Make the neoessary arrangements." With a wave of her hand she silenced him, and hurried from the room. That evening she succeeded, after great persuasion, in gaining her father's oonßeut to this hasty marriage. Mr St, Martin acceded because he saw how much his daughter wished it. lie did not know the real cause for this hurry, but suspected she must have good reason for making the request. He tried all in hie power to gain her confidence, but yhe K nly throw hey arms around his neck and begged for patience and trust. It was with a heavy heart that he drove with Lady Alice to the church to witness the ocrpmopy, and listen to the solemn words which bound his daughter to this man for life. The wedded pair drove to Heidelburgh, where they wore to pass—0, mookery af thp word ! their honeymoon. Her iast wcius tw he? father were " Help Mr Travers, father." She still held to her resolution to be wife in name only. So she requested Granville to engage rooms for her in some quiet boardiaghouso, *ud for himself at an hotel, and he had not'dared to refuse When Mr St- Martin reached home he took up the ' Argus,' and among the many cablegrams from Home he read one to the effect that Sir Percy Stevens had the day before, while in the hunting field, sustained serious injuries from which ho was not expected to recover. He did not now regret giviug his consent to the hasty marriage. In a few day#, perhaps, Madge might be Lady Stevens. Btpye's, &S a sjnglp rpgn, might have gone Horns to claim hip otfni' forgotten Madge, and married a Lady Somebody or other. Now Madge was his wife, and none could dispute the fact; and was she not a wife lprd, in the land might be proud of f After thinking over it all, he remembered Madge's last words, and drove to the City Police Court, where Charlie 'Travora wa a that day being accused of the murder of a tramp (name unknown) at Brighton on the evening of the 6th inst. The evidence againßt Charlie was very strong—stronger than he thought it could possibly be; and as each witness was examined he saw how very easily ona man might be punished for the crime commififcpd by a^othaiv Two men, whom he did not remember ever having seep before, were the first witnesses culled, and both testified to the fact that while passing near ths spot where the murder had been committed they had Been the murdered man and the prisoner conversing in angry tones, and saw prisoner raise his hand to the tramp. The chambermaid yas npxt called. She swore to the pistol being the prisoner's; she saw it on his arrival in his portmanteau, and then again lying on the chest of drawers in his dressing room. She cried all the time she stood in the witness-box. Charlie was ever a favoiito with servants, and this one had a very toft plaoo in her heart for him, he having tipped her liberally when leaving Brighton. She was followed by the butler, who swore that on the evening of the murder he saw prisoner hide something hastily in the pocket of his coat. As soon as he' had gone into the drawing room ourjosity led witness to find out what bad t)pen hidden there. He found the pistol produced, tfe left it there, but after the murder had been discovered he took it away, as he thought it might lead to the finding of the murderer. He had also found the silk handkerchief (produced) near the spot where the murder was committed, with the letters "C.T." embroidered on one corner.

How well Charlie remembered missing that handkerchief. At the time he believed he had left it in the train.

The bullet extracted from the murdered man was apparently the one firpd from the pistol, ts if corresponded in size with those undischarged, He was convicted and ordered to be brought up at the next sitting of the Supreme Court. JJail was offered by many of his friends, only to be refused. When Charlie saw Mr St. Martin after his committal his first question waa if Madge were married, and he felt relieved when he knew she was in one sense eafe. He had nothing tq fear now. His conviction had been a greet surprise to him. but he had faith in the future, and jf (be future failed him he would bear all for Madge's sake. Ten days passed. Oh 1 the misery of them. Eaoh day seemed a lifetime, and as each morning dawned he looked for a word, a message from Madge—just a little kind remembrance. None oame. How deeply hurt he felt at being forgotten by her, and at such a time; but not for a moment did his love waver—he was true to her still.

He had decided from the first what course to pursue, and still adhered to it. His behaviour led those won' were abopt him to believe that he was guilty. This was what he wished, and at the end of ten days, when he was brought into oourt, he firmly intended to bear whatever punishment might be inflioted on him, just for his darling's sake, He would bear a thousand times more for her sake.

Mr Gray had implored Travers to let him defend him, but ne had determinedly refused. He was calm and collected, and listened earnestly to eaoh witness. Early in the morning of the third day Mr St. Martin saw in the papers the. announcement of Sir J?ercival Steyena's death, and hastened with the news out to Heidelburgh. Sure of finding the young .(.puplp b»Ppv in each other's company, what was his surprise

to find Granville at the hotel and hia wife j in lodgings. The young husband tried to make light of the matter. He laid it was a strange whim of his wife's, which he hoped time would overcome; at present he only thought of her happiness. They saw each other every day, so were perfeotly happy. The father oould not be persuaded that all was well between them ; and it appeared to him that hia son-in-law did not seem elated at the intelligence that he was now Sir Granville. Together they went to Madge's lodgißgs. Mr St. Martin was shocked at the ohange he saw in his daughter. What a time of uncertainty it had been for Madge. Sometimes she thought she would go mad. She dared not think of the future, dared not think how it would all end. Her one thought was now of Charlie, and how she could save him. Just aB her husband and her father entered she had made up her mind to take the first train to town, and put herself into Mr Gray's hands. She rushed to her father with open arms, and he, seeing the oold greeting between husband and wife, knew there was " a little rift within the lute."

"Surely they don't think Mr Travers guilty, father ?" were the first words Madge uttered.

"It looks very like it, my dear; the evidence is very strong against him." "Buthe didn't do it, father"; and she looked at her husband in a half-pleading, half-defiant manner.

"So you and I may think, Madge; but I'm sure the jury won't have the same opinion. I oannot understand his motive, if he did it, unless the man was in any way connected with some dark part of his past life. He will not say whether he is guilty or not; he won't speak of tho crime, in fact. He ia very oalm and quiet, and listens to every word as though he were afraid that some fresh evidence will crop up. He may get imprisonment for life, but it's more likely to be the extreme penalty. Poor fellow—poor fellow !" Madge was as pale as death, and stood grasping tightly the back of a chair, and looking at her father with wild glaring eyes. "Father," she said, in low impressive tones, "it must not be. We must prevent this. It will be double murder if he is—is—punished. We must save him, father—we mud save him."

" What do you mean, Madge ?" her father demanded.

"If he did not commit the murder, who did? Your behaviour has been most strange ever since that night. What do you know about this ? Answer." She turned her eyes on hor husband, "Granville, speak !" "Speak? Why should I speak ? I know nothing about it. You may say anything you like. A mad woman's words would never be relied on."

He laughed derisively. " What do you mean, sir?" Mr St. Martin asked.

" I mean, Mr St. Martin, that I am sorry to have to toll you that your daughter is insane. X have fried to keefi the aad truth from you, but by coming down here you have found it out, 1 '

" Insane |" laughed Madge wildly. " Insane ! Y ee, I have often thought I should go mad. J have been mad in throwing my life's happiness away for you-ryou, who would stand quietly by and see Charlie Traverß hanged." "What does this mean, Madge? For Heaven's sake, explain." "It means, father—it means that—Mr Travers did not murder that man."

"Who did it?" Along silence followed the question. "Madge, do you know who committed the murder ?"

"Yes, father, ho—h,e-did is," Sb 3 pointied to her husband, then with a low moan threw herself on to the couch. Granville, catchiug her arm in an iron grip, hissed between his teeth i " You He. You know you )ie. (Jan you believe the words of a lunatic, sir ? She is mad, and she lies." As he spoke the door quietly opened, admitting a tall, prptty girl dressed in black. Her cilear, owee'ii voice broke the silence < " She does not Ho. She is not mad." Granville quickly released his wife's arm, and staggered back, orying incredulously : " Alice, you here !" " Yes, I am. horp.'' Sjw ajlyaftopd jnto the room, after first cloßipg the soor. " Yes, Alioe, sir, whom yon thought safe for many years. Your wife, your true and lawful wife. You did not think 1 oould escape, but I have esoaped—esoaped from the asylum wherein you lodged me three years ago. You are rather given to calling people lunatics. Four years ago this man married me, sir (turning to Mr St. Martin) He wan then boots at the Federal Coffee Palace,* wnWe % tired of me, he forged a doctor's certificate, and had me plaood in the asylum, where I have been ever since. He payed my brother .Jack tp sjlpnce. S,ome little time after 'he had got rid of mo he sayed an old gentleman's life at the risk of his owu. To show his gratitude, this gentleman befriended him and obtained for him a situation in the Bank, and by his influence he has risen to the position he now holds, Jack alwaya kept me informed of my husband's whereabouts, having to look him up now and again to be paid his hush money. I was happy where I was—happier than I would have been had I lived with "fti?jf--ljnt J wanted, tip s?e hjm, bo esoaped and followed Jack to Brighton, where I knew he had gone to meet my husband. 4 n( * listen, James Taine —or Granville Stevens, as you now call yourself —listen ! I was near Mr St. Martin's gate on the night of the murder. / saw you xhoot Jack! Yes, Bir, it was my brother he killed. We had arranged to meet there, but before I could reach him he was dead. I did not dare fco show myself, in. case my husband would think it as well to have me out of the way too. I slipped away, and until a day or two ago have been too ill to speak. As soon as I was able I went to the bank and inquired for Mr Stevens. They informed me he was spending his honeymoon at Heidelburgh. You, miss, are, I suppose, his other victim. I am sorry for you, but you will never understand what you have escaped." "You don't believe this woman, surely, Madge. You don't believe hor, Mr St. Maitin. She saya she has just escaped from the lunatic asylum." " Believe her, you villain 1 I have half a mind to breaj,c every bone in your body. Come, Madge, wo must leave this wretched place. This comes qf your hasty marriage." "Father, J married him to save h_im." " Explain, Madge.'* "' A wife cannot give evidenoe against her husband.' I, too, saw him shoot that girl's brother. I thought he was the son of mother's old playfellow, and remembered her vow."

" You would have blighted your life for that?"

11 Yes ; and to save him from the gallows. I did npt' think Mr Trayers would be convicted. He also knpw this, and generously took Granville's place. Think how nobly he has acted." " I dp not know your name, miss," said Alice, " but you are a noble gjrl. And that young man standing where my husband should stand is a noble man. Jim is not worth it; he is bad to the core, Shall we let him eaoape, or give him up to justice ?"

But James Taine alias.Granville Stevens had taken the decision into his own hands and fled in hot haste from the house,

He was afterwards sought for far and wide, but never found. His wife, through Madge's influence, earned a cpmfortable livelihood, and years afterwards, when she was a white-haired old WQman, a sprefqoted, starving tramp oame to her door begging for bread. She took him in, fed him, clothed him, nursed him, and her husband died peacefully in her arms. Such is woman's love.

Mr St. Martin, Madge, and Alice drove post haste into Melbourne., They arrived at the court jußt as the judge was sammlng-up. The rays pf the evening sun shope through the window, shedding its soft light over the prisoner as b.e stpod in the dock. There waß a holy, restfnl light on Charlie's careworn faoe as though a battle had been fought and won, One might have heard a pin drop, and many an indignant glance was oast at the three new arrivals as they made their way forward. The blaok cap was in fhe judge's hand, tears were In his dim grey eves, and his grief-atrioken faoe told a tale ox pity for the young man who had been condemned to death. The judge's deep emption and Charlie's calmness contrasted

Btraogely. Hearing the disturbance, Charlie turned his eyes and beheld Madge. The whole expression of his face turned to one of deadly fear. Had she come to surrender herself ? If not, what had brought her there? Surely not to see him stand where she should be? He watohed her every movement, and paid no attention to the judge's remarks. Before the last words "God have meroy on your soul" were uttered, Mr Gray broke the deep silenoe. "Your Lordship," he said, "another witness has come forward, whose evidenoe, when it is heard, will change the jurymen's decision. The witness is Miss St. Martin." Wild exoitement followed. Amidst the confusion, when Madge passed the prisoner, he hastily whispered: "For God's sake don't speak. I will gladly die for yon." His words puzzled her, and her answer puzzled him still more. "I must speak," she replied. "He is safe."

She stood in the witness box, her face thin and drawn, dark circles around her eyes. A Blight flush on her oheekß betokened her emotion. She gave her evidence in a straightforward way, not onoe looking at Charlie, whose eyes never left her face. Her olear, sweet voice penetrated every corner of the courthouse, while every ear was strained to catch each word as It fell from her lips. She started at the day before the murder ; told how she saw Granville Stevens examining a small pistol in Mr Travera's dressing room; and how, when returning from a walk on the afternoon of the murder, she had picked up a handkerchief near the railway station that she knew to belong to Mr Travers, but she had accidentally lost it again, Later on in the evening, while in the shrubbery near the gate, she saw Mr Steyeqs talking angrily to a' man whom she subsequently knew to be the murdered man. Two minutes ajter she turned away she heard the report of a pistol. She looked baok and saw Stevens with his baok to her. A pistol was in his right band, which hung by his side. In terror she hastened to the house, and before the dinner bell rang, while in the library, which wa,s dark, she watched Mr Stevens come quickly from the drawing room and put the pistol in the pocket of Mr Travera's paletot. When he had disappeared she slipped out and looked in the pocket, to assure herself that it was the weapon that had been bidden there. She saw the pistol and handled it. Mr Travers oould testify to seeing her there, also to its being there. She could not tgU whether he had seen Mr Savons put it there. " If you knew he was the murderer, why did you marry him?" "To explain that I must tell you of a strauge vow my mother made in her youth. She and an old playfellow, who afterwards wanted to marry her, msde a yow the night they parted th%t they oach would try and bring abput % rnarriage between their eldest children, if they lived ta have any, Tears passed, Mother did not hear anything of her old lover, excepting that he had married and settled in Melbourne, S,h? tried to. find him or his son, but without success. The night the died ah? told me of the vow, and made me swear to do all in my power to find Granville Stevens or his son. She knew he had a son and a daughter, hftviQg heard so from his mother. She also made me promise to oarry out her vow. I promised. The man I married told me he was the son of my mother's old playfellow. And in aocepting him when he proposed to me, I believed I was fulfilling my mother's wish. I married him in the belief that I was saving the life of the son of my mother's &ld iflvejy 1 " yen) wigh *is to believe all this," said a cynical voice. " You did not see him shoot the man ?'

" I heard the shot, and g&w the pieta] in hja ha,u''„ v "Was it daylight?" " Half twilight and half moonlight." " Could you swear to the man r" " Yes; besides, I was nqt the only person who saw him,'* " Who else saw him ?'' " His wife." " His wife ! Why you are his wife ! " " I am not his wife. He was already married."

Tho faint tinge of color on Madge's face deepened, There was 3 cftatin&t murmur amqngst tr«o crowd, The prisoner closed his fist, and an expression of anger sprang to his face. " His wife is in court, but as ahe oannot give evidenoe, if you will allow me 1 will tell you what ahe told me." "Continue." Madge related what Alice had already told them. " Did you see this woman ?" " No." "Strange that two people should have Been the doed committed and neither to have seen each other." "You forget it happened just outside the gate." " How is it that this man bears the same name as your mother's old lover ?" "It is only a strange coincidence. Hia second name is Granville, and Stevens was his wife's ' maiden' name." " Did he know the true Stevens ? Had anyone told him of the vow ? Why did he try to personate the other man ?" " I have thought it over, and see the fault was mine. I incautiously con,fidod in him, thinking ho was fchu man I sought,' and he immediately said lie was the m,an; so I married him." "■ Where is this man now ?" '• He rushed from the roam when his wife &30U<*ed him of killing her brother." " You Bay the prisoner in the dock knew that this man Stevens had committed the deed, and was going to accept this punishment and die in his stead ?"

"I was with M? Travevs the day hie father died. It was the day he was arrested, and he told me to marry Stevens, knowing it waa the only way to save him." "No ! no !" exolaimed the prisoner, hold, ing on to the railing for support. "Silence i" sternly ordered the judge, but Charlie was not to be silenced.

"No, no !" he said, in a hoarse whisper, looking at Madge with eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I—l—l thought— you— did it!"

His nerves snapped. He fell across the dock ratlings an unconscious man. I£indly hands carried him put. Yyhat an uproar there was. All order was abandoned. Crowds of men, women, and children followed the carriage containing the young man, Madge, and her father.

I The polipp hunted far and wide for the guilty man, out to no purpose, The account of the strange ending to such an interesting murder treat filled four columns of the 'Argus.' What a romantic tale in real life for the old gossips to chatter about! The decision of one and all was that to make the end what it should be the hero and heroine chould fall in love with each other and marry and live happily ever afterwards, Many wondered where the true Qranville Stevens was, and secretly hoped he would not appear and claim the girl who should by rights belong to the man who had bo bravely suffered for her sake, CHAPTER IJJ. "Father, how is he?" Madge asked anxiously for about the twentieth time that day, It was the sixth day after the trial. Charlie had not yet regained consciousness, and lay tossing to and fro in a delirium of brain fever, drifting nearer and nearer to his eternal home, " No better, my dear. In faot, Madge, the doctors hold out very little hope of his recovery-: Now, as I have important letters to write, which muflt go by to-day's mail, I will leave you." Madge quietly Btepped upstairs and entered her own small sitting room, which was opposite the sick room. From there she watched unobserved the movements of the nurse around the invalid's bedside. The nurse happening to leave the room. Madge seised the opportunity to noiselessly cross the passage and enter the room, She went to the bedside of the dying man and lovingly caressed him. She stroked back the dark curly hair from his brow, and held his feverish hand in her copl one. Her very touch seemed to soothe him. What would not poor Charlie have given for one of those loving looks of devotion six days ago 1 He murmured the word "Madge." A IWeet smile played about her lips, and, stooping, she hastily kissed him. " My darling," she whispered. Then tears of pity for herself and for him

rushed to her eyes—for him in saorifioing his bright young life bo soon—for herself in knowing what she was losing in losing the man she loved as her very life. She Knelt by his bedside in a paroxysm of tears, and held one of his hands lovingly against her wetcheek and imprinted kiss upon kiss on it. She felt powerless to save him unless her strong love oould bind him to this world, What had she done to be so punished f Would she ever see him alive again ? Oh ! maddening thought, this might be their last good-bye! "My darling, my darling," she wailed. " Don't leave me. How oan I live my long lonely life without you ? My love! Charlie, my own Charlie, take me with you, darling, take me with you !" Hark ! Was that a footstep ? She must not be found here. Hastily rising and brushing away her tears, she stooped and passionately kissed him. She then hurried from the room just in time to esoape being seen by the doctor. Day after day passed, There was no ohange either for the better or worse. One morning there was a little flicker of life, and a little hope beamed for the watchers, Then the doctor knew their patient was again taking up the thread of life so nearly snapped asunder; and Madge knew how muoh she had suffered in nearly losing him. It was weeks before Madge could see him, and then he had to be carried into h,w sitting room and placed on a lounge. There she had to make the weary hours pass pleasantly for him. At first he topk no interest in anything; having her by his side was enough, Then she would read aloud to him sweet bjts q£ Jpoetry, the poems she loyed and tys, favorites, too, and talked fc him, tffl {.he tpjuicjs of the day. One ! aborning Madge waw surprised when i he said;

" j h«VQ to thank you and your father for a.ll your kindness to me." She waa sitting on a low seat at his side, and, although looking delioate after her many troubles, she waa extremely pretty in her girlish shyness, "Yon m.uat not mention that," she answered, " All we hare done for you has been a pleasure." " A pleasure ! After my dreadful thoughts of you ? Oh \ Miss St. Martin, oan you ever forgive me ? It is this that is worrying me into my grave. Will you ever, bp able to forgive me ? This kindness heaping eoala of fire on my head-,'-- •' Forgive you I I never thought there was anvthjag to forgive. Anyone who witnessed my strange behaviour that night might have eome to the same conclusion as you did. I have not forgotten, nor shall I ever forget, your generosity, you/ uoUeaesß, In suffering the degradation tfeatyoa thought should have been roino, j cannot think what would haife feaoome of me if Alice had uftt appeared. L,et us forget it." (< And you forgive me ? Kind and generous still! Oan I ever forgive myself ? Thanks, Madge, for thinking so kindly of me after my strange behaviour, What made yon think { knew Steven* had committed the crime ? " " Did you not ask me if he knew I was aware he had done it ? I said Yes, and thought you advised me to marry him to save him."

" I see it all now. If we had been a little more candid with eaoh other we should not have suffered thus. When I asked you that question I meant Did he know you did it." He shuddered convulsively. " Hush !" naid Mpdja, Wring one of his hands in not think of it. I nevey blamed you," ** Madge, do you love that man ?" She bent her head to hide the bright solor that spread over her face. " No !" was her emphatic reply. " You married him in the belief that he wa,g the man you sought ?" *' Yes, for no other reason." " Do you still intend to try and fulfil your promise tfo your mother ?" A very faint "No," and the fair head bent still lower,

" Madge, shall I tell you how, years ago, X determined to win the little child I fell in love with ? I was very young when first I met her. Wo lived in a small two-roomed cottage in the poorest part of Melbourne. She came one day with my sister, who was her nursemaid, to see my father, a poor carpenter, who was reoovering from an illness. Shall I, ever forget her, this dainty little ohild, as I first saw her as I stood on the threshold of our humble dwelling ? 1 looked into the scantily-furnished living-room and saw a little fairy—a lovely little childsmiling up into the old man's face, which beamed with pleasure. I did not wonder at his infatuation—l was infatuated myself. She turned her true, trusting eyes to mise, held out her wee ha.nd, and «a\d (jhe J qatHe-rsh.o knew ua all new. My heart, which went out to, ber as I took that small hand in mine, has been in her keeping ever sinoe. I saw her after that many times, but only once to speak to. How I usad to watch for her, just to see hav for odb moment. It mad& ray pulse throb, and made my happiness for the day. There was one drawbaok—a great drawbaok ; she waa an heiress, a perfect lady, while Iwas only an office boy, a carpenter's son, and her nursemaid's brother. boy as I was, I determined to climb to the top of the ladder; then, if she could love me, knowing what I was, J wou,ld ask heif to be my wife. \ have reached the goal 4t' whieh I aimed, have met the girl whom I have always loved, and how I offer her my heart. Madge, you were little child. Can you love me, dear, knowing who I am f Clasping her hands in his, he bent over her, his handsome face nearly touching ber pretty, rippling hair. He waited for an answer; none came, '

"Think well, darling," he continued, softly; "I want you to give your heart wholly to me for love's sake, and not as a reward for what I have suffered. Think only of your own true feelings. My love for you is very deep." And the love-light streaming from his eyes told its tale. " (Jan you love me, little one ?"

She slowly raised her head, and eyes met eyes. That was sufficient, and he clasped her passionately to his heart. The ticking of the clock alone was heard.

" You love mo, Madge, with the knowledge that I am Graee% brother ¥' he asked, v/hen they became rational enough to speak. " Yes," she said, " I believe I have loved you ever since that night we met at Mrs Stringer's. Qraoe will be my sister now." "Thanks, my darling ; that is nobly said. But oan your love withstand the oruel remarks your friends will make about my parentage i You have a hard battle to fight for my sake, Madge, Are you equal to it?" " I love you, Charlie, and my love is very strong." " Strong! Yes, I think it is. I have given it a severe test, dearest, and I am going to test it still further. Y ou have accepted my love believing me to be a carpenter's son and a nursemaid's brother. If I tell you I have been living under an assumed name can yon still love me ? "

•' I can never not love you now. It would be impossible, But what do you mean ?" "I know you will be true to me, Madge. Von are one qf the true women. Your love is strong. Madge, my name is not Charles Traverß, nor was my father's Travers. Cannot yon guesß who I am ?' "No, Charlie, you mystify me. Who are you ?" " I am Granville Stevens, Madge, the man you have been seeking—now Sir Granville Stevens "; and, pulling up the sleeve of his dressing gown, he showed her the tattooed heart.

So the vow made under the old oak tree, in the old garden no many, many miles away and so many years ago, was fulfilled at last, while they who made that vow lay in their graves with the grass growing green above them, The End.