EDRIE'S LEGACY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXVI, Issue 9452, 24 August 1889, Page 3 (Supplement)

EDRIE'S LEGACY.

10 BY MRS. GEORGIE SUKLDON, ; d Author of "Brownie's Triumph," "Sibyl's In'd flucnce," " Witch Hazel," etc. tn CHAPTER XXXVl.—(Continued 10 "on! 1 XEVKH MEANT THAT ANYONE SHOULD a KNOW—YOU LKAST OF ALL." 'l' One morning Edrieand Harold, who wcro as happy now as it was possible for two n lovers to be, went out for a drive. Nellie d was in the laundry doing some ironing for her young mistress, and Mrs. Campbell took the opportunity to go into the guest--11 chamber to arrange some fresh flowers, which the gardener had sent from t.he con--10 scrvatory, in the vases before Edrie's re- — turn. She removed the fading flowers and then 1- . started for the bath-room to fill the vases with fresh water. '> It was nearer for her to go through the 3 " dressing-room between it and Edrie's room, y and where a bed had been set up for Nellie at Edrie's request, as she liked to r have her near her at night, than to go by r the way of the hall; so pushing open the " door, she went that way. As she stepped inside she noticed upon 0 the floor a foldod paper, that had about it a yellow, time-worn look. Mrs. Campbell 1 gave it only a passing glance, but on ree turning from the bath-room she noticed it 3 again, and as it aroused her curiosity, she •j picked it up. Wondering what it could be ' she unfolded it, and began to read what > was written within. ' Suddenly every particle of colour fled from her face, and she sank upon the ' nearest chair, weak, faint, and almost 3 paralysed by the startling discovery she had 3 made. i How long she sat there in that state she k never knew, but she was finally aroused by J a movement and a low cry near her, and", 1 glancing up, she saw Nellie Grant standing in the doorway, looking more like a spirit ' than a human being, and regarding her ' with wild and frightened eyes. The girl's hands were clasped upon her bosom, and she was trying to say something, but no sound issued from her titleless lips. > With this interruption, something of Mrs. 1 Campbell's habitual self-possession returned. L "Come in, Nellie, and sit clown," she ' said, pointing to a low rocker opposite her. The poor girl seemed to have no will but to obey, and, sinking into the chair, she covered her face with her trembling hands, 1 and began to rock back and forth as if in '' great distress. "Nellie, my poor child," Campbell began, kindly, " I can understand now why you have been so unhappy here ; 1 know why you have shunned me as if I were some enemy whom you dreaded. Now, I want you to answer a few questions ; I want you to tell me truthfully all that I wish to know, and then we will seo if we cannot reconcile you to your lot." _ A bitter smile curved Mrs. Campbell's lips as she concluded, for she alone realised how much such a reconciliation would involve. "Are the names upon this paper the names of your father and mother?" she continued after a moment, and glancing at the document in her hand. " Yes, ma'am," the girl responded, in a scarcely audible tone. "This is the certificate of their marriage ?" Nellio simply bowed assent. She was shivering so that her companion could hear her teeth chatter, and she could not speak. " This clipping from a newspaper, which is pasted below, is the record of your birth, 1 suppose?" Again that motion of assent, and then Nellio burst forth, in a trembling, agonized voice: "Oh, where did you find it? I have been so careful. I was so afraid that I would lose it that I carried it in my bosom ever sinco I came to Hollyhurst. Oh, I never meant anyone should know, you least of all," she concluded, and then she fell to sobbing hysterically. " Hush, Nellio !" Mrs. Campbell commanded. Accustomed to obey, the poor girl instantly struggled for pelf-control. " I found it on the —just here—you must have dropped it. " Is—is your mother living, Nellie?" Mrs. Campbell asked the question, after a moment of silence, with evident effort and with white lips. " Oil, no." " When did she die ?" , The lady's tone was hoarse and unnatural, , and bending forward, she breathlessly ; awaited a reply. 1 " June 3rd, 18 —," replied Nellie, stifling a sob of grief. ( Mr,-'. Campbell threw up her hands, with j a shap cry, and then she sat so white and { still that she might have almost been taken j for a marble statue. j There was a look akin to madness in her j usually mild blue eyes, while the stern and almost furious expression which settled over ' her beautiful features changed them so that j her most intimate friends would hardly have recognised her face. j CHAPTER XXXVII. [ A IaiUUITFUL KKTKOSI'ECT FOR MRS. CAMP- t J! ELI,. There was a long and oppressive silence c in that room, during which each of its s occupants was absorbed in her own bitter { thoughts. ' t It was broken at last by Mrs. Campbell, a who arose, and going to the side of the fi stricken girl, who seemed nearly crushed c by her burden of sorrow, laid her hand v kindly on her bowed head. "My poor child," she said, gently, "I fa know now the sad secret of your life, and I e do not need to tell you, for you already fa know it, how closely ib is interwoven with mine. But there was no need for you si to shrink from and fear me as you appear to have done, for, truly, I have done you r< no wrong. No, no !" she cried, with sud- o den pascion ; "but I have baroly escaped si a fearfnl wrong myself. Never mind that d now," she added, recovering herself. "I ir want you to put aside all fear and dislike h of me, and tell me the story of your life. Begin with the marriage of your mother, b and tell me all that you know. Bo perfectly free with me, Nellie, for I am your N friend, in spite of all, as I shall prove be- fc fore we get thrrugh with our disclosures." tl Nollie lifted her head and looked up into di the sweet, .beautiful, but pain-distorted di face bending above her, scanning ib ear- m nestly. tl " I belie ; you are good and kind," she tl said, after a moment). "I do nob believe m you have been to blame after all; but, ai

truly, I have felt as if you were my personal enemy ever since I'first heard of you, and when I saw how lovely and beautiful you were, I almost hated you. I hope you will forgive me," she humbly concluded. " I cannot wonder at your dislike, dear," Mrs. Campbell responded, "only I hope you will not continue to cherish it. Now begin your story, please, and do not keep anything from me, for ib will be best for us both to deal candidly with each other." She seated herself again, and prepared to listen to Nellie Grant's story. Nellie thought a moment, then she said : "As you have seen by that certificate, my father married my mother in October of IS—. You will also see, by the record that was cut from a newspaper and pasted underneath, that I was born about a year after. We were living in New York then, and my parents, to all appearances, as I have been told, lived very peaceably together. Whou I was only three months old my father told my mother that he had determined to go West. He said he would go lirst, get settled on some place, and then he would send for her. She thought she should like Western life ; the prospect of having a homo of her own pleased her, and she willingly agreed to the arrangement. He left her comfortably provided for,' until he should decide where to settle,' he told her, ' when he would send her more money. But she never saw him again, nor heard one word from him from that time. For months she hoped against hope, her faithful heart longing to believe him true, yet, as time went on, and no word or money came from him, gradually losing both confidence and courage. " She had been a seamstress before hop marriage, and had worked in wealthy families, receiving good pay and steady employment. When her funds gave out she I sought work again from her former patrons, and managed to support herself and me in this way. But she had never been very strong after my birth ; she overtaxed her strength, and her health gave out. Besides this, she believed herself to be a deserted wifeas she was —and this slowly broke her heart. She lived only about two years after her husband had deserted her, and died, as I have already told you, Juno 3rd, 18—. I have a paper containing the notice of her death." Nellie arose, and going to her trunk, took from it a newspaper, which she passed to Mrs. Campbell. The woman almost snatched it from her, and bent eagerly forward to scan the item which she designated. " Oh !" she breathed, with pale lips, and a shiver of horror, when she read it. " Only three days ! God alone saved me from that." " My mother had an elder sister who alsGr lived in New York," Nellie resumed, not heeding hor companion's emotion. "She, too, was a seamstress, and after my mother died assumed the care of me. She had a little home where she took in work, and we lived very comfortably until I was ten years of age. About that time she became acquainted with an Englishman, whom, a few months Inter, she married, when we all went to England to live. But Aunt Ellen's husband was never a well man, and he died five years after their marriage, after a long and terrible illness, when she had to take up her old trade again to support us. She taught me what she could of it, besides sending me to school, and was always very kind to me. I loved her dearly, and when she died, a little less than than six months

ago, I felt desolate enough, for I was thus let entirely alone in the world. About a year previous to her death I had insisted upon knowing the history of my parent's married lifo. I knew that there was something wrong, for my aunt used to talk about it sometimes, in a blind way, with her husband ; and she told me plainly that my father had wilfully deserted my mother and me. She said that she knew he was living, several years after my mother died, because she once saw his name in a news-

paper, in connection with some business transaction, which led her to believe that he was a rich man. " After Aunt Ellen's death I made up my mind that I would como to America. I thought that I could earn my living just as well here as in England : besides, I had another object—l meant to find my father, if ho was living, compel him to acknowledge me as his child, and if ho was a man of means, as my aunt suspected, make him contribute to my support and the completion of my education, for I was ambitious for more learning. I knew I could prove my identity, if 1 could find him, for Aunt Ellen had been careful to keep that certificate, and it was she who cut out that record of my birth, and pasted it upon it." Mrs. Campbell's eyes fell again upon the paper in her hands, and she sighed wearily. It was the marriage certificate of Daniel W. Campbell and Mary E. Grant. It was made out in proper form, and there could be no doubt about the legality of the union. In the newspaper, which Nellie had also given her, was the record of Mary Campbell's death, which occurred June 3rd, only a little more than two years after her marriage, and only three days previous to Daniel Campbell's union with the present Mrs. | Campbell !

Surely it had been but a narrow escape far the proud anil sensitiveSadieSturtevant, and she grew sick with horror as she realised it, while her soul was tilled with loathing for the man, dead though he was, who had premeditated doing her so foul a wrong, and it had been through no act or plan of his that it had not been accomplished, for he could not have known that his other wife was dead.

"My poor girl, you and your poor mother have been sadly wronged," Mrs. Campbell snid, in a trembling tone; " but, oh ! ,1 do not believe either of you could ever have suffered or realise what I have endured during the past hour. 1 became Mr. Campbell's wife only three days after the death of your mother; but it is no credit to him that my character and life were not utterly ruined, for, months before that, he had sought to win my consent to the union ; and, if I had followed the advice of my friends, I should have doomed myself to a fate to which death would have been fur preferable. Heavens! what an escape I have had!" she continued passionately,as she arose and nervously paced the lloor, her hands locked in a painful clasp, her face colourless as the snowy lace about her throat, "and he did it with his eyes open—he meant to commit that great crime. He had no principle, no soul from the beginning of his life to the end ; ho deliberately deserted his wife and child, and then lie deliberately married me, while believing them both to be living. What a catalogue of crime and wrong his life was ! Ho was a wretch—yes, -hough he is dead, and gone to a just judgment, I will say it—he was an unprincipled ivretch through and through, and I loathe nyself forever being tempted, by his paltry jold, to assume his name, to live in the iame house, to breathe the same air with rim." Her mind went back over the pastf and the could read his motives as plainly as if 'hey had been a printed page. She could mderstand how, after he had succeeded — >y adding - crime to crime—in possessing rimself of Edward Richards' fortune, and hus securing nflluence and an influential )osition in the world, he had grown ashamed sf the humble wife whom lie had chosen in lis poverty, and had wished to secure nother, who was beautiful and accomtlished, and fitted to shine in the elegant mm© which he meant to establish, and in he society in which lie aspired to move, and hus he had won her. It was all horrible, and she was nearly istracted as she thought it all over. Still, he could but feel that she was being justly ■unished for having consciously violated he most sacred sentiments of her nature nd living a lie for so many years, simply it' the doubtful good which she and her hildren might reap from a bad man's great 'ealth. But there was yet more that she wished 3 learn from Nellie, and, controlling her motions, she sat down again and turned > her. ".Go on," she said; "let me hear the :ory out." " There is not much more to tell," Nellie iturned. "As you know, I met Miss Edrie "i the steamer coming from England, and ie was very kind to me but I never reamed then that she knew anything about y father, or had ever been connected with im in any way." " When did you discover it ?" Mrs. Camp--311 asked. " On the night of Miss Edrie's trouble in. ew York ; when that officer arrested her r the murder of Daniel Campbell. I knew ien that he was dead ; that I could never mounce him for the wrong that he had )ne my mother, or claim a provision for y future support. .The shock caused by lis knowledge, and Miss Edrie's arrresb for ie murder of the man whom I knew to be y father, nearly drove all sense out of me, "J singe that) night J have been like a per-

son benumbed or in a horrible nightmai When I learned the story of my fathe second marriage, and when it had occurr —the very year and month of my mothe death— I did when Miss Edrie's case w being so freely talked over by her frienc I began to feel my wrongs tenfold, I gre morbid and unreasonable, and blamed y< for them. When you came to Miss Edrie few days ago, and I saw how beautiful ai winning you were, I told myself it was y< who had made my father false to my mothe that you, by your beauty and arts, had w< him from her, and I hated you, although never really knew what hatred really mea: before. I found that my Aunt Ellen hi not been mistaken when she judged th my father had become a rich man ; Isa that he had left you very rich; that y< had everything to make your life smoo and delightful, and ib made me bitter angry against you, and jealous of you, wh< I remembered how my poor mother hi dragged out a miserable existence, toilii for ner bread, and finally dying in her p verty" The girl burst into tears as she conclude and sobbed as if her heart would break. " I cannot blame you, Nellie," Mrs Cam bell said, in a voice full of sympathy; " was but natural that you should feel si but let me give you a little more clear something of my own history, as well that of your father, and I believe you w feel that there are as great, if not greate wrongs endured by others as those whit you and your poor mother suffered." She then related how she had becon acquainted with Mr. Campbell, and all tl circumstances connected with her marria< with him. She told her how he had b come a rich man ; all that story of Edwai Richards and his young wife's wrong; how, upon the ill-gotten wealth of ar.othe he had continued to build up his ov fortune, and secured for himself his appa ently enviable position in the business wor and in society. $ {She felt that it was but right and ju that she should hear the whole, that si might form a proper estimate of the mar character, and thus be enabled to crush 01 from her heart the unjust feelings again others. The girl was horror-stricken as si listened, and was deeply humbled, and r pen tan t for her unworthy dislike of Mr Campbell, long before she concluded Ik recital. But it was heaping coals'of fire on Nellie head when Mrs. Campbell resumed, after thoughtful pause : "However, Nellie, the wrong that ht been done you shall be righted as far £ possible now; tardy justice is better tha no justice, and Daniel Campbell's propert shall be made over to you as soon as practie able. You are his only child and it righl fully belongs to you." That was what meant when I said that I would prove t you that I was your friend and would tr to reconcile you to your lot. Hollyhurs and everything belonging to it, as well as large amount of money, are legally yours." "Oh ! no, no ! I could not take it. Idi not mean that I was jealous of you an hated you for having so much, on my accoun —it was only because of my mother's desei tion, destitution, and suffering. Oh, never could deprive you of your beautifi home," cried Nellie, in deep distress. "I hope you do not think that I woul keep it, now that I know it does not belon to mo," Mrs. Campbell began, proudly, he face flushing crimson ; then, checking he momentary anger, she resumed in a gentl tone: "My dear girl, you, and you alone, ar Mr. Campbell's lawful heir—the law woul give you the greater portion of his property and I am determined that you shall hav your own at whatever cost. But we will tal more of this later. Wow tell me why yo call yourself Nellie Grant—why do you no assume your rightful name ?" " Why !" cried Nellie, lifting a crimsoi face, and turning a pair of flashing eye upon her questioner, who would not hav believed she could possess so mud spirit but for this evidence of it. " Cai you ask ?—do you think that I ever wantei to be called by the name of a man wh would desert his wife and helpless littl child ? That was enough to make me hate it years ago, and now, after learning of a] his later wickedness, I would scorn to tak it. Oh, forgive mo," she cried, as she sa\ Mrs. Campbell flush hotly at this contemp for the name which she bore. "I did no mean to say anything to hurt you. Lan always saying the wrong thing; but truly I like my mother's name bestib was ai honest one at least, and never stained b' crime or wrong. Ido not wish to be callec anything but Nellie Grant." Mrs. Campbell could appreciate her feel ings, for the name had long been a hatefu one to her, and she had never ceased to regre having exchanged the proud name of Sturte vant for it. But she heard Edrie's ant Harold's voices below, and, feeling that she must be alone for a while to collect hersel; and look her future in the face, she bade Nollie say nothing to anyone just yet oi what they had been talking ; then, rising, she sought her own room, where so many of hei battles had been fought out alone, and where some victories, over self at least, had been won. CHAPTER XXXVIII. OH ! TO LEARN THE MYSTERIOUS SECRET OF MY BIRTH ! Mrs. Campbell did not go down to lunch that day, but sent asking to be excused, pleading a headache, and begged that Harold would come to her as soon as he had finished that repast. The young man obeyed the summons as soon as the meal was over, and found his mother lying upon a lounge in her dressingroom, looking pale and worn. " Something is troubling you, mother," he remarked, as he sat down beside her. He had learned to read every expression of the face that ho loved so well, and he knew that no physical suffering could have brought that hunted look into her eyes, or written those lines of pain upon her brow. You arc right, Harold ; it is more of the old trouble; it seems as if it would haunt me for ever—as if I should never pay the penalty of that one supreme folly of my life," she cried, in aweary tone. " You refer to your marriage with Mr. Campbell," Harold returned, looking grave, for it troubled him to have her brood over the past, as she was sometimes inclined to do. "I wish you would at once banish all such useless regrets." "I wish I could, my dear boy, but how can I when circumstances are constantly arising to shame and humiliate me?" she said, in a choking voice. He thought she referred to the recent legal investigation of the facts regarding Mr. Campbell's death. " I do not think you ought to give way thus, mother, "he replied; "surely everything has settled itself at last. No one, save the few most intimately connected with the man's history, knows anything of the evil that he wrought; and now that the stigma of suicide has been removed, there is nothing that can possibly afl'ect your position or name in the eyes of the world." "True; but listen, Harold, something worse than all that has gone before has only this day come to light," she responded. Then, in reply to his look of astonishment, she began to tell him Nellie Grant's history and the discoveries she had made that morning. Harold Sturtevant's line face grew dark and stern as he listened. Truly, he thought, it seemed as if the measure of that man's wickedness would never be full, dead though he Was. "He was too vile to liveit is well that lie is dead, for if he had married you three days earlier, and was living to-day, — should kill him !" he said, in a terrible voice, when she had told him all, while his strong frame trembled with suppressed passion. "I am glad that he is dead," said Mrs. Sturtevant; "it is a hard thing to say of anyone, but if he had been here this morning I believe that I, too, should have been guilty of something desperate. But oh, Harold! think of the narrow escape from shame that I have had," she continued, with a shudder. "I cannot be too thankful; I believe if I had had that to bear, it would have killed me." Harold bent forward and kissed her tenderly. "Do nob think of it; no shame fv dishonour hrs touched you," he said. "He can never harm or mortify you again, and I see no reason why your future life should not be peaceful and happy." " It will have to be very bumble henceforth, Harold/ Mrs. Campbell observed, with a wan scale. "How 80?" '■ "Can you not understand? Nellie is Daniel Campbell's lawful child and heir; consequently all the property which, 113 .left rightfully belongs to her

e. Harold gazed into his mother's face for a .■'s full minute without speaking. Ifc seemed 3d at first as if he could not comprehend the :'s import of her words. as He had been so absorbed in thinking of s, what she had suffered through the man who w had wrought so much evil during his life, m that he had not given thought to the ina terests of Nellie Grant. id " That is so," he said at last, with a longm drawn breath. r; "And I have no right to anything save >n the dower right of a widow; Hollyhurst, I and all belonging to it, besides other proit perty, must be given up toiler," Mrs, Campid bell pursued. The child must have what at belongs to her." w Harold, being a lawyer, of course re)u cognised this fact, and he was far too honourj", able to wish to withhold anything from her ly that was rightly hers. Still, he could not in bear to think of his mother living anywhere d but at Hollyhurst. " That will be very hard, mother," he said, in a tone of tender sympathy, " but we must clo what is right." ; 1> " Certainly ; I would not retain a dollar that was not lawfully mine," Mrs. Campbell P" replied proudly. "Andyet—it will be a cruel it wrench to leave all this," and she glanced > > wistfully around the luxurious room which 'y for so many years had been her especial 13 sanctum. 'I Harold did not reply at once, but sat with r> clouded brow and sternly compressed lips, 'h absorbed in thought. He knew that if Daniel Campbell's pro--10 perty was made over to Nellie Grant—or at ie least, what she could legally claim—there f e would be comparatively little left for the e " support of his mother, barely enough, indeed, d to provide her with the necessaries of life, ! > while Helena, who now received a generous r > allowance from Mrs. Campbell, would be ' n left destitute. r " Truly, it seemed as if the proud woman's 'd lot would be a very humble one henceforth, as she had said. st _He realised, too, that it would now become » e his duty to supply, as far as he was able, s what his mother and sister would lack. *b This new sense of obligation led him to recognise Edrie's wisdom in deciding, 'as she had done, to adhere to her contract with 'Q her manager ; for, although his prospects were promising, his business was not yet flourishing enough to admit of his support!r ing a wife in the style he desired, and as- ( sume this otli£r burden also. s "Yes, it vail be hard ; I believe life has a been full of hard things for yoti," he said, at last arousing himself, and speaking with • s something of bitterness as he thought of all ■ s that his mother had been through and had 11 to endure since the death of his father. y " But I know that it would be harder for you to remain here than to go, under the - circumstances." •1 " Ineeed it would," Mrs. Campbell an--0 swered, sitting up, and speaking with an V air of resolution ; " and I want you to attend b to this matter at once for me. I want Nellie a to have all that is rightfully hers, and I will be content with what the law will allow me 1 from the estate. Honest poverty will be far •1 preferable to the life I led for so many years t with—" I" She checked herself with a twinge of reI morse, for over and over she had told her--1 self that she alone was the one to be blamed for all that she had suffered, because of her 1 own free will she had married a man whom 5 she did not love, simply for his wealth, r "I believe you are the noblest woman in r the world." Harold said, earnestly, and wone dering to see her renounce everything so readily. "I will attend to the transfer, as 0 you desire, and you may be sure that I shall 1 devote myself to your interests, as far as I , can honourably do so." 0 They conversed some time longer upon 1 business matters, and then the young man ,i sought Nellie Grant to question her further t regarding her history. When he told her that he was going to i see that her position and claims to her s father's property were established, she burst 3 into a flood of tears, and begged him to do l nothing of the kind. i "I do not want Hollyhust," she sobbed. 1 " What could 1, a poor girl, do with such a 3 beautiful place? I will not take a single 3 thing away from Mrs. Campbell. It is her ' home ; I know that she loves it, and I should 1 never be happy a moment if she was driven 3 out of it. Besides, lam going with Miss f Edrie. I would rather remain with and b serve her than be mistress here." b Harold reasoned with Nellie, while l Edrie tried to make her understand and , appreciate the advantages she would reap i upon becoming the possessor of so much ' wealth ; and Mrs. Campbell affirmed over I and over again that her conscience would not allow her to retain her present position ■ in the house to which she had no legal [ claim. ■> But it was all in vain. The girl would listen neither to reasoning nor coaxing, and seemed to be so distressed over the * turn affairs had taken that she bade fair to r become really ill. i "You cannot help yourself, Nellie," f Edrie finally told her, one day, after she had exhausted every argument that she could think of to reconcile her to the change in her position, bub with no better result than to bring forth a paroxysm of hysterical weeping". "You are Daniel Campbell's child and heir, and the law would require Mrs. Campbell to give up everything to you, even if she was not willing to do so. She would be committing a crime to retain the property, and 1 am sure you would nob wish her to do that." This seemed to make Nellie regard the matter in a new light, and though she still seemed unhappy and did not recover her colour or her spirits, she said no more on the subject. She no longer shunned Mrs. Campbell; a reaction had taken place in her feelings, and her devotion to her now seemed to De as great as her former aversion had been. It was while Edrie was at Hollyhurst that there came to her the opportunity she had craved—of doing something to show her gratitude for having her innocence of crime proven. Some ladies wore arranging for a grand musicale to be given in Music Hall, to start a fund for a home for homeless young women in Boston, and they came to Edrie soliciting her services, in connection with some other first-class artistes who happened to be in the city, for the occasion. "Yes, indeed," she told them; "she would be very glad to sing for them, once, twice, or even more if they desired." More than this, she said, if they would start a subscription for the same object she would head the list—only her name must be withheld—with five hundred dollars. They were amazed at her generosity and charmed with her sweetness and the interest she exhibited in their project, never dreaming that it was all a thank offering for the goodness and care which had so shielded her life, delivered her from deep trouble, and raised up so many kind friends for her in times of need. The time for this grand concert was set for the evening- previous to Edrie's departure for Philadelphia, where she had a two weeks' engagement, and she was told that there would be a rehearsal of the entire programme at eleven o'clock of the same date. The day arrived, and Edrie, accompanied by Madame Reiffenberg, started in good season for Music Hall; for ifc was one of her rules never to keep anyone waiting for. her upon such an occasion. There was some delay or some misunderstanding about the hour, for they arrived before anyone else ; there was not even one of the committee of arrangements there to receive them. Edrie sat down in a waiting-room, and, taking out the morning paper from her bag, passed one half of it to her friend and was soon deeply absorbed in the other. All at once she gave a startled cry. " Dear Mrs. Reiffenberg, just listen to this, please," she said, her face flushing, her hands trembling with excitement. "lb is an item among the personals, and caught my eye by accident. It is headed ' Edrie,' and reads, 'If a person bearing the above name will call at No. —, Beacon-street, between the hours of one and three any day during this month, he or she will 'learn something of advantage.' "What can it mean?" she asked, as she concluded the reading of the paragraph. "I am sure I have no idea," replied madam, but looking deeply interested, and almost as excited as Edrie herself. " Do you suppose ifc can have anything to do with my early life ?" Edrie eagerly asked. "Do you imagine that any living person holds the secret of my parentage, and this advertisement has been printed with the hope of finding me, to reveal ifc ?" "I am sure I hope so, dear," madam responded. " It is evidonb," Edrie continued, her eyes droppiiy* upua the paper again, "ftato.tjhe

party who advertised does not know whether Edrie stands for a girl or a boy ; so he 01 she cannot know very much about me personally. Oh, to learn the myterious secret of ray birth ! I feel as if that would be almost too much happiness after all the rest," she tremulously concluded. Presently, however, she turned a very pale face toward her friend, a lock of terror in her eyes. " Unless—" she began, under her breath, then stopped. ' Madame Reiffenberg saw that she was keenly sensitive regarding this mystery of her birth—that she feared to hear something detrimental to herself or her parents. " My dear Edrie, do not; borrow trouble," she said, cheerfully. "The advertisement says you will learn something advantageous; so let us hope for the best, and just as soon as this rehearsal is over, you and I will go to No. —,Beacon-street, and ascertain what* it is all about. Now just put all thoughts of it out of your mind, or you will unfit yourself for your duties. Ah ! here comes one of the ladies; so it must now be time for the rehearsal." It was time, but everybody was late, and it was two hours before Edrie was released. She afterward said they were the longest hours she had ever known. As soon as she was at liberty she and Mrs. Reiffenberg went down to their carriage, intending to drive directly to Beacon-street. They found Mr. Richards at the door waiting for them. Edrie thought that he looked pale and troubled, but her mind was so full of her errand that she did not give the matter a -second thought. " Will you come with me?" he asked. "I wish to take you to the house of a friend." " I shall have to ask you to excuse me," Edrie replied, feeling annoyed with him for the first time in her life, for detaining her even a moment. " Mrs. Reiffenberg and I are going to make a call at No. —, Beaconstreet." " It is to No. —, Beacon-street, that I wish to take you," Mr. Richards answered, and Edrie wondered what made him speak in such an unnatural, constrained tone. [To be continued.