EDRIE'S LEGACY.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 29, Issue 42, 1 June 1917, Page 7

EDRIE'S LEGACY.

COPYRIGHT.

By Mrs. Georgia Sheldon Author ol # ijhat Dowdy of a Girl,” &c. &c.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS PARTS, * Mrs. Campbell and her daughter Helena Sturtevant rescue a young 'pirl, who calls herself Brown Edrie, fioni the clutches of a woman who is unmercifully beating the child. They take her home, where she is installed ns waiting-maid. Mrs. Campbell was a widow with two children, •Helena and Harold, when she mar■ried Mr. Daniel Campbell, a coarse, uneducated, but immensely wealthy man. When Mr. Campbell sees Edrie for the first time, and learns her name, he receives a great shock, for she brings back memories to him that he would rather forget. Professor Gortz, Helena’s music teacher, hears Edrie singing in the garden ; ho prevails upon Mrs. Campbell to allow him to teach her, as he predicts a brilliant future for her. Just at this time Harold Sturtcvaut is home from college, and makes the acquaintance of Edrie. A few years slip by, during which Edrie makes .■wonderful progress, till it seems that she is sure to make a great name for herself. The following Christmas the Campbells are entertaining a 'number of friends, young and old. Edrie had been asked to sing something to amuse the children. Just as she is beginning the last verse Mr. iCJampbell enters the room, and recognises the song as one he had forbidden her to sing. Then, all at onch his gaze is attracted to a window through which a ghastly, enu--1 elated face is peering. Eater on Mr. Campbell has a violent interview .with Edrie, and ho declares that she must leave his house.

JI’AIIT 5. -CHAPTER Vll.—(Contd.) | How could she bare to leave dear iMrs. Campbell and Helena, who were {so kind to and so fond of her ?

How could she go away and never ■see Harold any more—and the kind professor, too, who seemed to take more and more interest in her ?

j Must she give up her music her valued lessons, and all her hopes for the future ?

j She would, indeed, be almost as destitute and forlorn as a “beggar” If she was expelled from Chat pleasant home, for she had nowhere else on earth to go, no money, no other friends to help her on in life. I She felt wretched and desolate ; land, unable to bear any more, her full heart found vent in a passion of tears. She wept until she was exhausted —until the fountain was dry, and then she tried once more to think what was best for her to do ; but she was very weary, and longed to' bo in bed and forget her troubles in sleep. Presently she heard the children come trooping Up the stairs, and, knew they were about to retire. I She thought she would wait where pile was until they were quiet, and then she would creep away to her 'own room ; she could not bear to meet any one. in her present e.xcited 'state, with her tear-stained eyes and heavy heart. ! She leaned back in her chair, rocking slowly to and fro in the darkness and stillness, and, in less than ten minutes she had, for the time, forgotten all her troubles, and was sleeping as peacefully and soundly as a little child. j She never knew how long she slept, brit she was awakened, by-aud-by, by the sound of voices near her, engaged in a somewhat excited conversation, and then she became conscious that Mr. and Mrs. Campbell (Were warmly discussing some question in the very room where she was fitting, though they were of course unaware of her presence, as she was (effectually concealed behind the big 'screen. j “I will not have it ! I've stood it ljust as long as I will. It is rather ■a pity, I think, that a man cannot [have his way in his own house once dn a while.” [ Mr. Campbell was the speaker, and ihis tone plainly indicated that he was very much disturbed over something. “But I have undertaken this matter, and I do not feel willing to give it up, especially just N at this time, when there is such 'promise of success,” Mrs. Campbell replied, quietly but in a voice of decision.

"Success ! What will it all come Ito ? You will never get any thanks for your pains—you’re only making yourself ridiculous by such a queer whim, and I tell you the girl has got to go !" and the master of Hollyhurst emphasised his words by a Iviolent blow on the arm ol his chair.

1 Edrie, sitting trembling and frightened in her hiding-ulace, knew that she was the object under discussion, and a pain, like a stab of a knife, shot through her heart.

“Mr. Campbell, what is the matter with you? You,are plainly not yourself to-night, or you would not give ,way to such ungentlemanly violence,” responded his wife, in smooth icy tones, which betrayed neither anger nor excitement, but rather a cool contempt for his lack of self-control. “Myself or not, I am in dead earnest this time, Sadie,” the man replied, in a dogged tone. ‘‘You brought the girl here, without consulting me ; you have spent years and a pile of my money trying to turn her out a singer. It’s ft hue notion, I’ve no doubt, and would sound iwell, in case she should chance to l make a hit by-and-by, to have it said that you’d fitted her for the let age : f»n’t t here’s another side to {the question, and you may want to

hide your head with mortification some day for having harboured a minx whom you took out of the gutter. Besides, there’s other mischief brewing of which you do not dream, Sadie.”

‘‘Mr. Campbell, I do not protend to understand your slurs and insinuations —I do not care to understand them,” Mrs. Campbell responded, in cool, well-bred tones, that were exasperating from their marked contrast to his unreasonable anger. ‘‘Whatever I have done has been prompted by the purest of motives, and is, therefore, above reproach. I shall never have cause to hide my head in mortification, as you express it, whatever any one else may do. It is true that I brought Edrie here without consulting you ; but., if you remember, you were not at home at the time, while I had never before been expected to ask your sanction regarding the servants whom I chose to employ.”

"A queer kind of servant you have made of her 1” growled Mr. Campbell. i “I know that when I found her above the position that I gave her at first, I thought it best to try to

fit her for a career for which she seemed' to have especial talent ; at the same time Edrie has served me in a thousand ways that a common

servant would never have thought of ; she loved me, and, by her care and forethought, relieved me in many respects, while she has greatly on-

dcared herself to me by her unvary-

ing sweetness and her gratitude for what I have tried to do for her.

(Hat, Mr. Campbell,” the lady con-

tinned, turning upon him proudly, “I am free to ray that I rather resent being called to account in this summary manner. Pray allow me to ask if you think it necessary to consult me upon the propriety of every project in. which you see fit to engage ?” * “No ; but of course n man may

spend his own money as h» chooses.” “Oh, of course ; but am I to infer that bin wife has not the same p-i'-'-lege ?” inquired Mrs. Campbell, with

quiet scorn. j “Zuuads ! Sadie, you drive me wild ( with you high and mighty ways 1” j exclaimed the man with a crimson face. “You have attacked me upon a rather tender point,” his wife rejoined, calmly, but with curling lips ; “you have accused me of spending a | ‘pile of money ' —your money —upon a whim. Perhaps I have—no doubt 1 ! have whims ; so have you, and I do { not question your right to gratify' them. But you forget, sir, that if 1 you are Mr. Campbell, and have the right to spend your money as you (choose, I am Mrs. Campbell, with equal rights. I contend that we stand upon equal ground in that respect. I became your wife with the understanding that I w T as to share whatever you had of this world s ' goods. I have endeavoured to do i my duty as far as I knew it ; I have endeavoured to make your home pleasant, and to yield all due courtesy and respect” j “Courtesy and respect !” interposed the man, bitterly. ‘ Is not the idolatr/ I have felt for and lavish-

cd upon you Worthy of a better return than a mere outward courtesy and respect, which is all you have

ever accorded me ?” “I have never deceived you, Mr. Campbell,” hie wife said, coldly. ‘ I told you at the outset that was the most I could render you. I told you that I had no love to give you ; perhaps you will even remember that I did not wish to marry you at all; but you were determined to have your own way in the matter, and I

believe we thoroughly understood

each other at the time of our marriage/* If you are disappointed in the result, lam sorry. Perhaps if

you had been less given to horseracing, and some other sports which I need not specify—if you had tried to interest yourself jnore in what

has interested me, wo might have been more congenial to-day” “If you’d been a littjo less hightoned and stuck-up if you hadn t carried quite such a stiff backbone, ■maybe you' could have helped me a little nearer your level.” For a moment Mrs. Campbell looked a trifle conscience-smitten.

Had she, after all, been somewhat to blame for the gulf that seemed ever widening between them ? she wondered.

But, looking into his coarse, red face, into those steely blue eyes that never lighted save when something appealed to his senses, and catching the pungent and sickening otfour of whisky and tobacco in his breath—for Mr. Campbell was every year becoming more fond of his cups she felt sure that, even at his best, she would always have shrunk from him —that they never could have been congenial to each other. “All this recrimination amounts to nothing, Mr. Campbell,” she said, with a sigh; “and surely such outbursts as you have indulged in tonight do not tend to add to my regard for you. But all that is neither here nor there 1 this demand of yours is entirely without reason, and I cannot yield to it. Edrie is a conscientious, noble girl ; she is devoted to mo, and I shall keep her with me until she completes her course with Professor Gortz, which will bo in about six months. He says that by the Ist of September she will be ready to begin doing something in public, and able to earn something for herself.'-’

“Then, madam, you defy mo?’’ exclaimed Ms. Campbell, in a fierce, low tone, as he bent his face close to the pale, intellectual countenance of his wife.

“.That is an unpleasant word, Mr. Campbell,” she returned, icily, “and J really cannot understand your dis-

like to Edrie. Has she ever been disobedient or disrespectful towards you ?”

“What, if she has not? hasn’t a man a right to say who ho will or will not have in his house? I vow I won’t stand this state of things another day !” he retorted, fiercely-

“There must be some reason for your demand. What is it ? demanded Mrs. Campbell, meeting his eyes with a look of stern inquiry in hers. “Because because I hate the black-eyed minx !” was the hoarse, low-voiced, almost hissing retort.

“Why should you hate Edrie?” questioned Mrs. Campbell, coldly, but authoritatively.

The man’s eyes fell before the penetrating scrutiny in hers, and he shifted uneasily in his chair. “It’s no matter why. I do !” he muttered, sullenly.

“Cannot you bo reasonable, Mr. Campbell ?” his wife asked, after thinking a moment, and adopting a more conciliatory tone. “Edrie has not a friend in the world besides me, and I do not know what would become of her if I should Send her away kom me.”

‘T do not care what becomes of her !” retorted her husband, recklessly. “And all too late, you’ll wake up to a knowledge of the mischief that she has been working. How would you like it, my proud lady, to hqve your high-born son stoop to wed this singing beggar ?” “Harold ! I never thought of such a thing !” said Mrs. Campbell, with a quick, startled breath that cut. like a knife to the heart of the wretched listener behind the screen.

“Aha !” laughed her companion, mockingly ; “that puts a different look u'pon the affair, doesn’t It ? You have some consideration for your son, if you haven't for your husband, madam. *i Mrs. Campbell drew herself up haughtily. “Mr.“ Campbell, you are mistaken,” she said, with cold dignity. “I have consideration for you, and you know ihat all these years I have honestly striven to do my duty by your But it would be both cruel and wrong in me if I should withdraw my support and protection from this friendless 'but talented girl at this time, when she is on the verge of making her debut when a brilliant and useful career is just opening before her, and .just because of an unreasonable whim on your part. If she had been guilty of any wrong, if she were unworthy, it would be different.” “Then you would be willing to run the risk of a proud Sturtevant marrying beneath him?” sneered Mr. Campbell, rudely. "The minx is angling most successfully for him.'* j

“That my son will never do. His own instinctive sense of what is best will, I feel sure, load him to choose a wife wisely, be she rich or poor, high or low in the social world. So that he loves her, and she is congenial to him, I shall be satisfied. But we have discussed this matter sufficiently. Good night, Mr. Campbell.” Mrs. Campbell arose as she spoke, and moved calmly towards the door. “Sadie,” said the man, turning his crimson face and blazing eyes upon her—her fling regarding Harold’s choosing a congenial wife had aroused his fiercest anger—“ Sadie, I’m in dead earnest ; that girl has got to go ! She can’t stay any longer in my house !”

The proud woman turned and faced him. She was very pale, but as calm and self-possessed as if she were simply settling the matter of the morrow’s dinner.'

“Very well, Mr. Campbell, if that is your decision —your Ultimatum — I shall be forced to submit. But that will not alter my determination to throw my protection around this dear girl until she completes her studies. Helena and I will go in town to .board for the remainder of the winter, taking Edrie with us. Mrs. Reed, the housekeeper, is very competent, and I shall feel confident that your comfort and your house will be as carefully looked after during my absence as if I were here to superintend it." She did not wait for any reply, but swept from the room apparently as unruffled and placid as a morning in June.

Not until she reached the seclusion of her own room did she falter or abate one iota of her proud bearing, then, locking the door securely, she gave way to a despair such as can be realised alone by one who recognised all too late that she had degraded herself— sold herself, in fact, J into a galling and humiliating bondage for paltry gold.

CHAPTER VIII. A MIDNIGHT VISITOR

Daniel Campbell sat a few moments longer, a baffled look on his swarthy face, an expression of fierce anger in his cold grey eyes. He knew{ very well that his haughty wife would carry out her threat of going to town to board if he persisted in his determination to send Edrie away, and he knew, too, that his house would seom like an empty tomb, despite its comforts and elegancies, without her presence. Still, he was not prepared to yield in the matter.

“I can’t stand it,” he muttered, gloomily ; ,‘the resemblance is too —strong. I feel as if I was haunted continually by an evil spirit.” He shivered as he spoke, then, rising, he, too, left the room, and, going below, shut himself ipto the library with a bang which made his proud and ' sensitive wife shudder. She was walking her chamber in a fever of shame and remorse because she had degraded herself by marrying such a coarse, uncultured creature.

Three minutes Edrie crept from her hiding-place behind the

screcn in the sewing-room, her face white and drawn with pain, .but with a determined gleam in her beautiful dark eyes.

I “What did he mean?” she murmured, standing still in the middle of the room, her hands folded in a strained clasp beneath her chin. “What ‘resemblance is too strong’ ? ' What ‘spirit’ is he afraid of ? Can it be possible that Mr. Campbell J knows anything about me ? She stood thinking profoundly for some time, then she stole softl.v out and sped noiselessly up to the third storey, to her own room.

Down stairs in the library the master of the house was trying to make himself comfortable.

He went to a closet, took out a glass and a bottle of wine ; diew a small table close to the glowing grate ; threw himself into a luxurious chair beside it, filled his glass with the rich ruby liquid, which he sipped slowly and with evident relish. Presently, however, he put his glass, still half full, down, and leaning back in his chair, seemed to fall into troubled musing, if one could judge from the gloomy shadow upon his face.

The house was very atilh Every guest had retired, and the hush of slumber and of midnight foil over the place. An hour passed and Daniel Campbell had not moved from his position before the fire. One might have thought him asleep, his figure was so motionless, his breathing so quiet, but for those fierce, restless eyes, which blinked and glowered at the burning coals in the grate, as if he saw there the face of some hated foe. Suddenly he started, sitting erect and bending his head in a listening attitude, while a deadly pallor drove the ruddy colour from his cheeks, a tremulous quiver, as of dread, running through his massive frame. He had caught the sound of a stealthy footstep on the verandah outside the library window. The next moment there was a tap on the glass. He turned and cast a frightened glance in that direction, while even his lips were now of a livid hue. The tap was repeated —impatiently, authoritatively. He sprang to his feet with a fierce but whispered imprecation, approached the window, and pushing aside the draperies, which were only of lace, the others not having been drawn, peered forth, trying to see who was- without. A tall figure towered outside the casement in the waning moonlight. It made a gesture as if commanding him to open the window. Daniel Campbell hesitated, but continued to regurd the apparition with eager, questioning eyes, while he scarcely seemed to' breath, so intent was he in his inspection of the figure. "Let me in," said a low, authoritative voice. Mr. Campbell lifted his trembling hand, turned the fastening, and the lower half of the sash was noiselessly raised. The next moment the figure, muffled in a long ulster, stepped within the room, and, confronted the master of the house. "Skale !” ejaculated Daniel Campbell, in an astonished, startled tone, though there was an intonation of intense relief'in it as well. "Just so," returned the -stranger, in a hard, metallic voice. "Thought I should give you a little surprise party. It’s a very cold night, and the fire feels good. I’m nearly frozen. M The man strode forward towards the grate, 3rew off his fur gloves, and unbuttoned his coat as he spoke. He was tall and spare, quick and decisive in his movements, yet with a nervous alertness that impressed one that he was continually on the watch for surprises of some kind. His face was sallow and sharp-fea-tured, while he had keen, restless black eyes, that seemed capable of ferreting out the darkest secret ever conceived in the lowest depth of the human heart.

“Well ?” briefly queried Mr. Campbell, in an expectant tone, as, after closing the window, he followed his unexpected guest to the hearth. “He has got away at last,” returned the man, spreading his clawlike hands over the ruddy blaze,while his swift glance roved from one object to another, and noted every luxurious appointment in the elegant room.

“I know It,”- quietly responded his host.

Those restless eyes were now turned with a lightning flash and with a look of astonishment at the speaker. “What?" “He has been here to-night." “No !"• “Yes."

“He never would dare ! —and how should he ever know where to find you ?" “That is more than I can tell you, Skale ; but as sure as I'm a living man he has been here—if, indeed, he is not even now prowling about the house. I saw his face at one of the windows not three hours ago."

The stranger looked anxious at this information, and glanced sharply at the window through which he had just entered. His thin lips settled into a hard, cruel line, and the claw-like hands worked nervously, as if eager to get hold of something or some one.

“That is good news ; I didn’t dream that, in coming to you, I was getting right upon his track,” he said, with animation.

“How has he been of late ? inquired Mr. Campbell. “Well; not over and above strong, physically, but as keen as a razor mentally ; we’ve had to watch him constantly."

“When did he pet away ?" “Two weeks ago yesterday, and I used every means I could think of

to get trace of him, but, failing, I concluded to come directly here and explain matters to you." "How did he succeed in eluding you ?’’ "That is more than any one knows —in fact, it is very mysterious,” replied Skale, with a scowl and an impatient shrug of the shoulders ; "it looks like treachery on the part of some one, but I have been unable to detect it."

"Has he mentioned me of late ?” "Never a word ; he has been as mum as the dumb regarding the past during the last two years, and, but for his ceaseless, though repressed alertness, no one, save an expert, would have sus'pccted he meant mischief, has appeared content, and as if he had given up all hope of ever changing his condition for the better." "What shall we do ?” asked Daniel Campbell, wearily. "We !” repeated Mi*. Skale, with a curious smile and a gleam of brilliant white teeth. "Well, what shall I do ? —if that form suits you any better," retorted Mr. Campbell, gloomily. "Why, take the most radical measures possible to capture him and return him to the —— Institute, or forfeit all that years of patient scheming have brought you.”

"I would rather die than lose the game now," was the hoarse reply. "Of course, life would be rather uncomfortable for you if he should pounce upon you unexpectedly, and It isn’t likely that he would have much mercy on you if he should get you in his power,” returned Mr. Skale, with an expressive shrug and leer.

“It is no subject for jest,” retorted Mr, Campbell, angrily. “The mere thought of it makes me sick,” he continued, growing white again. “And, Skale, I can’t hunt him up ; I do not want to have anything to do with the affair ; but I am willing to pay handsomely to have the work done for me. I will give you ten thousand dollars if you succeed In finding and shutting him u'p again ; but”—and he lowered his voice—"l shall expect that this experience will never be repeated !” The stranger’s eyes gleamed greedily at the mention of the ten thousand dollars. “I will do the best I can for you, Mr. Campbell, and once let me get my hands on him, he will find it difficult to elude me a second time,” he said, with a wicked look, and wriggling his bony fingers ly“lt is too bad, too bad, after all these years !” groaned Daniel Campbell, wiping the perspiration from his brow. ‘T had grown to feel, fairly safe during the last few years. Who’d ever have thought of his tracing me here ? Between him and that girl I am driven nearly distracted to-night.” “The girl ! What girl ?” demanded Skale, with a suspicious glance. “Oh, one of the servants, whom I detest, but of whom my wife is very fond, and refuses to part with,” explained Mr. Cam'pbell, with as much indifference as he could command. H e spoke without thinking, and he now remembered that if Skale was connected with one secret of his past life it was not necessary to betray others to him. “By the way,” he continued, anxious to divert his mind, ‘‘how did you happen to come here at this time of the night ?” “I only arrived from Denver by a late train to-night, and I couldn’t rest until I had seen you. I thought, perhaps, it being Christmas night, you might be up late, and maybe I could get a word with you. I didn’t care to attract attention by coming here openly, for, on the whole, I prefer no one should know that we are acquainted.” “Yes, yes ; it would be best to keep dark,” answered Mr. Campbell ; “and, if you don’t mind, I will let you out the same way that you came in.” “No, I don’t mind ; but I guess I’ll take some of the wherewith, if you please, to defray expenses ; they will be pretty heavy, and my poc-ket-book is rather thin just at present.” Mr. Campbell made no demur at this request, but, going to his private desk, he unlocked a drawer, and taking from it five crisp banknotes, each representing one hundred dollars, he handed them to his visitor.

The man took them with an eager, greedy look, and thrust them into an inner pocket of his coat. “That’ll do nicely—to begin with. I'll let you hear from me in a day or two ; and if you wish to communicate with me, you will find me at the ‘United States,’ " Skale said, as he glided, with a cat-like tread, towards the window, which he noiselessly raised, and then passed out. Mr. Campbell followed him to the window, and stood there for several minutes, unmindful of the cold, looking out after him until he disappeared from view down the avenue. “What a Christmas he groaned, under his breath. “It seems as if the world were crumbling to pieces beneath my feet. I made the greatest mistake of my life, nearly eighteen years ago, when I watched with him, and—let him live !"

He put up his hand, and was just about to close the window, when his wrist was suddenly seized in a vicelike grip, and another figure emerged from behind one of the shutters, a pale, resolute face was thrust close to his, and a low, commanding voice said in his ear : “Let me in, Daniel Campbell ! It is my turn now, and I have waited patiently for it for eighteen long years !" To b« Coottaued-