THE WORLD BETWEEN THEM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXI, Issue 6966, 15 March 1884, Page 11 (Supplement)

THE WORLD BETWEEN THEM.

BY BEKTHA M. CLAY. Author of "Throws on the World," "A Bitter Atonement," 'Ueyond Pardon," "Set in Diauion-'s," &c., &c.

CHAPTER LXI. undine's dkspskate resolution. Littlb had been said between the three who remained in the library at Heme Manor House. As the door closed behind Raoul L'Estrange tndine laid her face on her. sister's breast, and Lord Chandos s heart sank within him as he noticed the attitude of shrinking despair. "Haidee! Haidee! Help me!" ahe. re-. peated ; and then the loving arms that held" her felt that she drooped more and more. Looking at the white face, they saw: that for a time she was oblivious of everythirg: Then the sister aud liubband looked at each other. "I am appalled," said Lord Chandos. '-I will uot believe one word against ray wife; How could I, and live ? Yet—l cannot explain—but as I listened to the man-'.the. accents of truth seemed to strike me';\>herewas in his words a ring of truth horrible to me. My hope is that the man is mad;." . "The man is mad," said Haidee, calmly, " quite mad. My idea is that the man saw her beautiful face aod has gone mad fbr/loye of it. 1 am quite she continued, calmly, " that what he says is impossible; Even were Undine less good, less innocent than we believe her to be, the thing is impossible. Except during her visii to. .Mrs. Grant, we were never separated, we were never parted for one hour; it could not possibly have happened without my knowinu it. Ido not believe one word of it; and I never shall. Even should I read.. the. entry of such a marriage, in the register any church, I should still refuse to heiieve it. You know what she is, the poor darling who lies senseless here in. my arms—she is as open as the day ; she had . never had a secret ; she could not h&yeltept one ; she was all impulse. I maintain that it is impossible for her to have been, this man's wile without betraying the fact: Does: it stand to reason that, because he went twice to the farm, she should fall in loye; with him aud marry him ?" " No. I do not believe one word- of, it either. lam quite sure that either there, -is. some huge, terrible mistake, or that he is mad." Ho beut down and kissed the white-facie that lay on llaidee'3 breast, "I believe in jou, iny darling," lie said,. Haidee looked at him with hot, impatient eyes. "In your place 1 should shoot him," ?he. said. "I do not understand you, Ray. Ypu say tliat you believe in Undine, yet you let the man escape who has said this horrible thini; of her." "I do not understand myself," said. Lord Chandos. "I repeat that my faith in tTndine is perfect; but that man always had a peculiar attraction lor nit —a peculiar influence over me, if I may so express it,. Almost insensibly he interested mo; therewas a sincerity, a bitterness about liis sorro.w, there was something even in his cynical dis.like of all women that interested nie anil thero is something even now in his passionate earnestness which.—well, it frightens- -me-r-it frighteua me, Haidee." "It does not frighten me," she replied, proudly ; aud then, turning from him, she laid tiie neipiess figure down on the couch She kisM-d t:je white lace. " Oil. hay," she ciie.l, "look at t'uore. lines of pain, .so deep, so cruel. 1 have not uoticedthem unti.l.upw.. Ring and send her maid to me." The young and beautiful mistress of the mansion was carried up to her loom. When she opened her eyes and recognised Haidee, she said little. "1 am dazed, my dear," she said, ''let nie sleep." She fell into a loug acd restless sle;ep> during which Ha'dee sat by her and thought'. The longer and the more deeply sheithought' the more sure she felt of the entire and perfect innocence of her sister. She went over every detail of tho life they had spent together in that far-oflland. This man,, who claimed Undine as his wife, was almost, the only stranger who had crossed their path. Was it possible that a girl so loving; so young, so impulsive as Undine, could have, kept such a secret V They had walked,, aud talked, and slept togethor, yet never a word had f»Uen from her lips. She seemed so perfectly heart-whole when she reached England ; she had fallen so deeply ih love with Lord Chandos, and so far ;aB She, 11:.idee, knew, there had not been a doubt in her mind as to marrying him.

She had seemed perfectly and completely happy since her inaniage ; she had: beep as bright and blithe as a happy bird ; no dark, secret, no fear had marred the beauty of her face ; her laugh had rung out merrily ;; her voice was clear aud sweet; of all people in the world she looked the least like One w.lio had had a great trouble, or a secret, or a. shadow of any kind over her life.

It was impossible ! Her only wonder was that Lord Chandos Bhould let the iiiah live who had uttered such words. Yet,, even to her miud, augry and indignant as she was, tame the idea that he had spoken what lie. believed to be the truth. Xle afternoon passed, the grey shadows of evening were beginning to fall, and still Lady Chandos lay in that long, uueasy sleep. Nothing had been seen of Lord Chandos since that terrible interview. Sleep would be the best thing, Haide.e thought, would best nstore her sister to rest and strength. 'Ihinking that the children, would like to see her as they had had no visit from auntie that day, the left Lady Ct'ando?, sleeping well. Meeting the maid iippn tho stairs, Hniilee told her that her mistress'was' better. It was not dark then, but the; light of day had gone. Nothing would eatisfy the maid but going herself to see how Lady Chandos was. The entrance of the maid into the. room aroused her ; she opened her oyes. "How long have I slept ?" she said. "' Lucy,, what time is it'! I will not come downstairs, again to day ; bring me something. Tell. Lord Chandos and Miss Estmcre that I prefer remaining here. I could not go down tu dinner." When tho dinner-bell rang, Lucy Steele took a tray filled with delicacies to her mistress with many entreaties that she. would do her best to eat something. Lady Chandos told her to place the tray on the stand and she would <!o her host. "Lucy," she said gently, "I should like to sleep again. I have been very illy and sleep refreshes me." She knew from the calm, undisturbed expression on the maid's face that nothing wis known of that terrible interview. "Will you tell Lord Chandos and Miss Kstmere that I am going to sleep ?" slie said. Some hours afterwards the maid remembered how prophetic those words were. " I am going to sleep,"she repeated, " and I shall be glad if no one disturbes m.e> You need not come, Lucy, unless I ringj" Bui; Lucy was not content; she thought her mistress looked very ill. " Let nio stay with you my lady," sho pleaded, "I will be very quiet—l could not bear to leave you alone." "1 shall be better alone," she. replied: readily. "If I have a long and undisturbed night's rest, I shall ba better to morrow-. Will you tell Lord Cliandoa and Miss .Estmcre that ?" Reluctantly enough she went away. She did not like the white set expression.on Lady Chandos's face; She felt unhappv and anxious about her. She went with the message, and though Haidee did not.like it,, she made no objection. "I will not disturb her," she said. "I will not go until I hear tho bell ring; if I do not hear it you will come and tell me when Lady Chandos rings." The same message was delivered 1 to Lord Chandos, whose impulsewas to ignore it. He longed to go to her to. comfort her, to soothe her, to talk to her quietly of the wonderful mystery, to aßsure her of his faith and love, to try with her help to solve this problem that vexed him so' sorely ; but if she so intensely desired a long sleep, he would agree to her wish. So the two who loved her, who would either of them have given their lives to save hers, left her alone to work out her.doom. They dined together. It was by: no means a bright or cheerful dinner; they.icould jnot discuss the matter, because the servants were: present, and it lay on both hearts like a weight of lead. When dinner was l over; Lord Chandos went to the library; intending to engross himself in his accounts, that he might forget for a time this terriblo' soirow which had fallen over his happy household. " Haidee sat for some time alone in:,'the diawing-room, then decided to go to her own room. She felt ill aud unnerved, r She first left a message to the effect that Jif Lady Chaudos awoke aud rang her bell, she was to be sent for.

i. AndvHaidee sat alone many :houra • that evening,- -pondering -over all that had happened. So.aleep, quiet, and rest fell on the old Manor House; The,children slept in their little cots, the servauts had many of them retired,. Haidee sat in her room, think-, ing, and Lord Chandos,tried in .vain to . keep, his mind concentratsd on .figures and to forget. ;-

'. In one.room there.was no peace,, no rest in ono room a woman paced up and down with a white; haggard,face and burning eyes ; her hands clenched, her whole form trembling.,; She made a desperate resolution ; she would go out once more ; go to him, p'ead. with . him ; and ifhe denied sho did not see the, end quite: plainly ; She would make 1 1 just one effort more.; up to this time she had not tried to conciliate him,;- sho wonld do. so I now. She would humiliate herself, before him, she would clasp his hands, sho would plead with passionate tears. He could not be so cruel to her ; he never had been cruel.; in those old days when he had loved In r, he , had never seemed cruel, . In those days she; could sway him, by a iook, .a word, a.gesture. Surely her beauty had not lost, all, its -grace, all -its influence. If she tried;, she must .succeed. Failure iri this case-.tneant' death;. 1 She would ask him: to rave her, even at this, the lust hour, by recalling all he had -said, owning that'he was -niad, 'promising, '-to'.' co away for ever and leave her in peace. ' Surely lie would ! Ho had refused before, but it. must have been her fault—she had not. pleased him, she had cot tried her best. He had refused her coldly,, hardly, cruelly ; he : had. betrayed her,, he had accused her of her ■ crime .before 1 .'Lord Cban.dos ';- he. had sworn j tliat there, should not be. even :» loop-hole of ■ but she would pray ..and. pray. It-he refused, why .then—nut atie did--hpt..finish the' words, Or the thought;. it ended, in darkness > that was indefinite. She had made heir decision and she would abide by it.: in the stillness of the night she would steal from the house and go to him, plead, and pray to him, She tried to remember every eloquent.word she could think of ; she. tried to remember, every argument which would touch him. "1 knew so little of him," she said tO herself, bi.tt'f rl.y, "so iittie, and I know less now, .'tor I had. al,nvost forgotten him." But she stirred in her heart every idea that would, be likely to make him. more lenient ■ andiientle.

" Men have forgiven women greater sins (lion tlii?,'' she said to herself ; " why should he not forgive me?" Despair had robbed .her of reason, or she might have known that after taking the desperate steps be had taken, all uotion of forgiveness would be uselesa and- vain. It was striking, nine when she -.vent down, the grerf s.taircste. She saw a light shining ■undtrnea'-h the li'nrary door, and she knew tha.t her husband was. there. Silently enough she kissed the door as she passed. She. would .have given her whole I'ifo t.o have gone in and kissed, him, but she followed the guidance of the Laud that led her to her doom. CHAPTER LXII. " JI.AY II,KAV'.K.S" ICAVK MK-RGV OK VOtfß SOUL." Once, safe on the Queen's Walk she turned to look at the house where she bad spent so nishy happy hours. Through the crevices of: the library windows ibe Saw the rays of lamp-light; from the room where the two eliildien wei'q sleeping came a faint light; the same from her own. Before her lay the dafkiiets of night ;, with its uncertain shadows ill vague and mysterious ; behind her the h' use wi'li its faint cheery lishts. she. stood there-, looking for the last time on the home she had Tovtrl so well, a Midden, rush of wind camp sweeping, up the lawn. It bent the great boughs ;it stirred the leaves ; and an. it died away it so exactly resembled the cries and moans of a weeping woman that she was for a moment appalled. " Queen Anne's moans," she said, to herself, and she looked to see if the white mist moved along. Ko white niist. was there ; (inly the swift, hurrying shadows.as the wind parsed through the trees. Just for one moment iier thought left the imminent danger and trouble of her pwii life to dwell.upon that of the murdered queen, Better even to. be. herself with all her misery than the poor queen slain by the hands of tho man she .joyed so well ; bettor to live her own bitter life than to lay her head on. a scaffold,. Then, slowly, She, saw the wh'te. mist rise . from, the river. Then she hurried 011. She would not look back at the house, at the Queen's Walk, or at thei white mist, which, to the superstitious eyes of. people, took the shape of the murdered queen wringing her hands. She went On quickly, aud the moon, which had given but a fitful light, hid her fair face behind a cloud.

Raoul L'Estrapge had gone home a desperate man, niaisdene.il by the line of conduct | which Undine had pursued toward, him. If she hsd been frightened, her fear might halve softened him.; if she had been sorrowful, her ; sorrow might have touched him ; if she had been, despairing, the. sight of her despair might lisve moved him ; but: she had been none of these things ; she had denied all he , said, aiid had called him a madman, and what hurt him still more, "at? adventurer." This was the girl he had married in the old church, and who had bidden him farewell on the pine hill, amid the sobbing of the sea. hie Stood for some few minuteß trying, to picture her, as she stood there with the sunlight on her golden hair and a smile on her fair ■face. The picture maddened him. She was his, his own, and not the other man's—his very own, and Ins would have her. He would go to the. grand mansion ; he would force his way through locks and bars; he would slay any roan who opposed hi.my and he would bring, her back with him. His face in its ringer was terrible to See, his | eyes in their madness were terrible. He never thought of the obstacles ; he would go and take her by force. If any man opposed. him, it was at: the peril of: his life; " She is.mine !" he cried, nloud—"mine!" aiid his voice, loud in its. passion, rang, through the place. " Mine by every right— mine because I married her—mine-—1 will tear her from him !" The fury of madness wis upen him. There was 110 resting to-night in the old-fashioned .room. A hundred voices called him out. He mustobey the.ni ; he must go ami claim her ; she should not remain in that house one hour longer. There was no light from moon or stars, only a faint gleam in the skies by which he could distinguish his road. He walked quickly over the fields. To reach the Manor 11 ouso from the Valley Farm one had. to pass, through the fields, to wait through the Herne Woods, to walk some distance along the high-road, to cross the .River Rye. He met her just as she liad crossed the bridge, on t he bank of the swift-rolling river. Although it was dark, without light, of moon or stars, they recognised each ptlier in a. moment. He uttered a wild cry of-rage ; she stood wliite aiid cold wi th fear. " I was coming for you," he said. " And I- oh, Raoul !—I was coming for you," she answered; "Dp you mean that you were returning to rric—that you have left. the. man who haß no claim upon y6u, to return, to me ?" " No," she answered, " I want you—-I want to talk to you." " Yon called me a madman to-day," he said. " I was sane then, I am. mail now. You. drove me mad with those horrible lies of yours ; retract them now, or, as sure as the sky is above us, so sure will I fling you from the bridge into the river! Retract them." '• Gh, Raoul ! —Haoul, have pity on me!" : she cried, With a pitiful sob. " Madmen know no pity," he replied— ; " I know none; ltet ract, and I will let you : pass. Retract! Say, "You are my husband.' " " I will, not," she cried. " I am not frightened at you, Raoul —you Would never hurt me." "I will make you retract," he said. "We. stand here for the last time— I, the madman whom you have deserted and betrayed— : yoUj the fair of face and false of heart, who. have killed ine ! 1 loveA you, aiid you killed me. Have you one word to say, as you stand : before me there—one word in excuse for all ..the falsehood, the cruelty, the betrayal, the wickedness that you have shown me—only one word?" '■None," she cried, "except that I was'so young, Raoul, and knew so little." She tried to tpeak calmly, but her heart .almost ceased, to beat when she. saw, by' the faint gleam of the. sky, the white anger of :'|iis;:fa.cs... ■ ' " I will: give you just one chance for your life/' he said. " If. you will come back with mo now;, leave England .with me at: ouce, swear to meinever again indife to look on the fuco of Lord Chandos, you: shall live ; if not, you shall die !" '..'.r.. i She drew a great, shuddering breath, and just at that moment the moon shone out full; clear, and bright. An unutterable feeling of

horror camo over her. What would she not have given to have been safe in the warm shelter-of home, near,hußband and children, safe ? Oh,; Heaven ! would she ever be safe again? The moon lit up the soene with dreary splendour—lit up the great, dark trees, the deep,.swift river, the fields that lay beyond, ' ;and-.the'\vbite,'angry fac» of Raoul.' ; .There, was no hope, no mercy, no pity there. Oh, Heaven ! what had she done' to put herself: at this hour of night in: the hands of this desperate man ? _ ' . ".You;are.my wife !" he said. "I am asking no: favour, I demand my : right; will you come: with roe or not ?" As -he spoke, he drew her nearer: to ■ the water's edge. " Raoul:!" she cried; faintly, my .children ! my-poor; loving children ! Let me go. back, to them ; they pull my; very heartstrings. Let me go !" " Neverin this world again,".he-replied, hoarsely, '■ never again; I will die with you; but I will never let you go !" And .again,, with ?his strong, relentless army, he drew her nearer to the river's-brink.

. " Oh;. Raoul:! do-not hurt me. lam cold, dear. so cold. See 1 the dew of night has fallen thickly over me ; my hair is'wet;".the beauti-; fulgoldeu.-hairthat should lie on the breast of; husband.and lover, never more.. "I am cold and tired. Let me go !" ..■. " Promise to come back' to me, now, at once, and I will not hurt; one-hair of your head.. If you do. not; I will die. with you ; you shall not die alone. You -have eluded me in life;, you; shall be mine in death.i She. sank sobbing in the long; dank grass at his feet. "Oh, Heaven, help me!" she cried. "Oh; Ray, my love;, my. husband, help -mo !" And those few, words brought to a climax the madnesß that possessed hnn.. '"You need not get up again," he said; laying sueh heavy hands on her shoulders that she could not move. " While you are kneel? ing,. ask Heaven to forgive; all the sips of your life, for yon are going to die." A long, low, wailing cry left her lips and died over the river. " It is of no use. crying," he said; " there is no help near.. Do yourem.ember—listen I —do you remember a story you once' told me of—of a king who lived near the tideless; dolorous, inland: seas ? He wanted to punish Some man who had offended him, aud he ordered him to: be. tied to the body* of the girl lie loved,, and that both should be flung into the sea together. He was. deliriously happy, thiß. mauj because he-was to. die with the girl he loved. While, they were bound together, his; words were words -of. fire. I shall be as happy as he,, for we will die together. In life I havo never held you in my arms—t shall clasp you tightly enough in death ; you would not live., with me—you shall die with me !"

Slowly, and with strong arms,, he raised her from the ground. "May heaven have mercy on your soul, and mino ■!"' he said, as he dragged her to. the very brink of the. river, where the waters rushed .past with a silvery gleam. He threw his arms around her, and drew her to hia breast. - " Now," he said, " you can save your life if you will swear to mo that you will go away with me ; that you. will renounce this false life for a true one ; and in half an hour's time you shall be seated by my hearth-stone; mine for ever more. If you refuse, I. will fling you and myself into the river, and wc shall be found so, dead. Take vonr choice." " I cannot! I cannot !" she wailed. " 01), Heaven, help me ! Oh, my children ! Ray! R.iy !" and the name died away over the river. He. with, his stro.rg arms dragged her to the very brink ; he kissed her with desperate, passionate kisses. " Mine !: mine in death !" he cried, '' mine in death !" The next moment there was a terrible cry ; a cry that rang over the river and. through the woods, but which no one heard ; a cry that reached to the high heavens; and mounted to this foot ,bf tho throne above. There was a loud splash in the hurrying river,, a hundred wide eddies that seemed to catch the light, then a deep, dc a th"like silence; unbroken by sob or sigh. -Once above the dark waters a woman's band rose; a white; slender hand, flashing with, jewels.; it disappeared; and the river fin swiftly on,.

The modn ahone brightly all night on the river.; in the morning the sunlight Hushed it with gold, but. neither sun nor moon gave warning of the secret it held.

CHAPTER LXIII. " WE WILL K'EEP HER SECRET."

.At Heme Manor House they woke in the morning to the terrible knowledge that Lady Ghandos «:as gone,. Lucy Steele, was .the . first to discover ft. She had listened anxiously for some hours; but; no bell had; summoned, her. Now it was full morningj. she determined to wait no longer ; t-ho would take s.tmje. tea to her lady's room;, and see how she: was. To her unutterable alarm the room, was empty—Lady Chandos was gone. She had the good Sense not. to raise any alarm, but to go quietly to Lord Ghandos, He, in his turn, went to Haidee. "It has driven her mad," cried Haidee, " and I do not wonder ! Oh, Kay, how can ee save her? How can we find her; and prevent it from being talked about ? It has driven her mad !" While the words were still on her lips, a : summons came for Lord Ghandos—-one of the keepers wiehed to see him immediately;. "Say nothing to any one until I return, ' Haidee," he said; as he hastily quitted the rooiii ; "we shall .find hgrjn the honsfe,. or,she has wandered into the. grounds. We shall find her. JDo not (fry." He went at cmce to the keeper- • a tall, stalwart man—John Adains by name—:a.man who did not know fcar. but wiioae face now was white'and haggard. " Forgive ir.e, my lord," lie said, " I have come to you first; I thought it better " Quick, my man, " said Lord Ghandos - ''quick. I have urgent business on hand." But the man seemeiVunable to tiling out the words, "Quick,,' said Lord Chandos, " or come .at another time." " I had to cross the bridge this morning, my lord," said John Adams, " and I stood for a few minutes watching: the rapid flow of the water. As I stood. I saw' something floating on the waier that looked like. gold.. Feeling curious to know what it was I wont dOwa to the river's edge; and—" " Well.!" cried Lord Vh'andoaj his lips growing white, " what then " My lord, it was the hair of a woman— long, shining, and golden—caught in the bending branch of a willow tree.- I said nothing, but came straight to you." " You did well. Now get the men. and the drags," he replied. "1 will, pome with you." The cry that had risen to the high heavens ■ bad been heard. There,was this mueh m.ercy shown to her,, that she wad. not tonnd dead in Kaoul's aims', as lie had intended. He fcad so planned his revenge that they should be found de.id together, she locked in his embrace ; but Heaven was force of her struggles and. the force' of. the swiftly running water had freed lier from him ; and the same swift tide had carried him down the depths of the river far away. No strong, cruel arm held her when they found her ; the water had. wrapped the golden hair round the trunk of a tree, but she lay with her face raised to the blue heai- : veils. They carried her home—he was not missed j for some weeks afterward—they carried her J back to. the iponi where she -had suffered.: such intensity of anguish. Pew words were spoken between Lord Ghandos and Haidee ; but those few were eloquent. . .. " We must save her, " he. said. " Oh, Hai- . dee; I fear, she drowned herself, but we must keep her secret;" " Until death !" said Haidee; And 'She did so. The horror and bewilderment of the household, the grief; the/despair; and the. dismay . could never.be told. .Every one was paralyzed with horror, the. whole county was roused, nothing Avas heard on all side but laicentatiori . and mourning. One story waß-toldy. and: it never differed. No one except Lord Chandos, Haidee, and Lucy Steele-knew-that the hapless lady, had wandered from home.and :had been absent all., nights—no one everiknew that. The story told was that Lady Cbandos had risen early in the morning; and not feel-. ..ing Avell; :had gone.down the river, hoping to\ find .-relief in the lresh. air. : How.she had fallen in, no ono knew, but no one doubted-! that it was an accident and deplored it accordingly. That the young, beautiful, and beloved Lady Chandos had been foully and'cruelly/ murdered, no one even ever so faintly or (Vaguely guessed.■ "■ . -i Haidee and Lord Chandos stood together over her death-bed. They were alone. Loving hands had covered her with fair whiia flowers ; had brushed back the golden hair from her brow; folded her arms, so marble . white, and laid them on the heart that had

loved and suffered so keenly ; had so crowned the, fair young bead, that she looked a lovely sleeping bride. r ' Theystood together side by side watching her.:. Suddenly Lord Cbandos tookHaidee a hand;, in his own and laid it on the whita dead hands folded in such perfect rest " Let us promise her," ho said "to keep' her secret—never, to mention one word of it— never in any way . to betray our knowledge of it, but to shield her and screen her in every way. • Lay your hand on her heart and ; promise; Haidee—promise never even to ask your own self -whether the story was true or \ false !" , - 'Baidee,did;so,;and she kept her word. * \yhea Lady Estmere, hastily summoned by | : telegram, reached Heme Manor House, it : -.was only-to;hear,... -.what, every one else had ; board, of the terrible accident that had" happened to her, beautiful ryoung daughter. No words could describe hf r grief; but there ;.was no shadow of.shame; in it, no disgrace ; there was nothing but the- bitterness o£ her loss. There was an- inquest, and the verdict returned was one of accideutal death. . What ; else could it be, when one so yoang, so be-; lovedand happy died ? Half .the county attended the funeral; there was not a dry eye in the whole assembly; . when the; young . and; beautiful lady, the! worshipped- wife, the boloved. 1 mother, was. laid in her grave. ■ ' :■ JRaoul-' L'Estrange was not- ; missed , for., some, weeks.afterward;; all his servants were; so accustomed to his frequent- journeys and 1 his: irregular, life;. ,that for some short time no> attention was paid:to his absence. .'Then, in 1; their perplexity, they went to Lord Cbandoa,: ! and he advised them to place the whole affair ' . in. the hands of .one of the Kyestone solicitors. It was done. ■ * Monthsandyears passed without any news: of him ; no one. knew whether he was living or dead. After a certain-length of time, as ; no claimant to his wealth;appeared, it fell to: the crown; and his name was forgotten. The river had carried bis body down to the sea, and had never told its-secret.';; .The sea will tell; its secret when it-gives up its dead. Lord Ghandos was perfectly loyal to the memory of- his; fair young wife;. He never: . sent to Australia} he never named the matter even to,Haidee; He could have settled 1 the matter by;seuding..a .trusty, messenger to 1 Port Michel, but he would not do so ; he I generously gave her the benefit.of the'doubt. I After a time; when the; bitterness,of her j sorrow had somewhat abated, Haidee.jinar-. ried General Hastings; and they were "happy ever afterward*" Lady Estmere, beautnul and beloved, is;still.one of the most popular-women m England. Lina grew up something like her mother ; Rue died soon after the loss of the loving mother whose sin no man kutnv. ■ ■ In the academy of this year hangs the picture of a lovely, woman, and-re-ference to the catalogue shows that it is the portrait of Edith, Lady Ghandos. So the master of Heme Manor':haH evidently found consolation ; and yet ha never .hears the name of beautiful, faulty; unhappy Undine, but that tears ;dim, his eyes and his heart aches with unutterable: pain. : THE KKD. •' ' : -