CHAPTER XXIV. A WIFE'S DEVOTION.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 125, 24 October 1885, Page 3

CHAPTER XXIV. A WIFE'S DEVOTION.

The robber was dead, and the law had no further hold upon him. After the usual preliminaries, Mavk bought a lot in the cemetery and furnished money for arespeo< table burial ; then his mind was easier, fo r j although the world might call him Quixo- i tic, he felt in his heart that his sisters husband ought to have decent interment. Candice had noticed his action wonder* ingly. What did he mean by such a peculiar freak! She liked him the better for it, however. After all, she could not feel as angry with him as she wished, and was tempted to think more leniently of his numerous shortcomings. He had never referred to their conversation on that I night when he had told her he loved her and she had acknowledged her regard for him, but had ignored it completely. Well, life is made up of disappointments and heartaches, with sunshine andhappinessscattered here and there. Mark was a constant study to her. Sometimes she was tempted to forgive him and confess her identity; then the reaction would come and she would turn from him almost angrily. Mark was pained at her conduct, and! thinking this life a strange enigma and the people in the world the greatest puzzle of all, he started out in quest of Leta. He went to the address inscribed on the package, but the landlady of the cheap boarding-house informed him carelessly that Mrs Tatro had left there two days before. 11 Do you know where she went? 1 Mark asked, trying to speak indifferently. "No, I don't," the landlady answered, sharply. Then he turned away, disheartened at meeting with disappointment where he had only thought of Buccesa, But if his sister was in the city he would surely find her. He could not, would not, rest until he had accomplished his purpose. That evening he was wandering aimlessly along, thinking sadly of his mother and Alice. Surely this life of his was bad enough, but was not theirs, waiting at Valley Farm, even worse ? He ooulil not tell what induced him to traverse the part of the town into which h9 had wandered, but on he went until a light across the way attracted his attention, and jußt where it shone brightly on the grass-grown walk of a brick mansion illuminated as if for some grand ball, a woman was standing quietly, as if waiting for some one, but no one came ; the woman moved restlessly, and then seemed gazing straight into that festively lighted house. Mark could not tell why he stood like one under a spell and followed that woman's every motion, for surely the picture on which he was gazing was one of every-day I occurrence. Now, right under the chandelier in that richly-appointed room, a ysung girl was standing with her head bent, listening ; she, too, was waiting-— for what ? A handsome young man entered the room, went close up to the waiting girl, and kissad her softly on the brow ; then, with one arm about her waist, they sauntered back among the shadows. At this Mark saw the waiting, eager face of the woman outside droop as if in despair ; then she threw her anne above her head and noiselessly fell prone on the greensward. "She has fainted," Mark thought, pityingly, and hurrying across the street with long, rapid strides.ne beat over the woman's prostrate form. One glance at the white face upturned to him was enough, and with the words, "My God ! it is Leta 1" he gathered the frail young figure in his arms ; Ear long golden hair had Become unloosed, and was floating over Kis shoulders wildly. But it was Leta, his sister, found at last 1 Tbank Heaven for that ! and he kissed her pale lips. She lay insensible in his arms. Then a terrible idea came to him. Suppose uhe was dead? The thought was agony. At length ehe stirred; she was alive, thank God J and with tears in his eyes he awaited her teturn to consciousness. The blue eyes opened at last, and the white lips murmured, " Leon ;" then Mark spoke to her. "Do you feel better, dear Leta?" he said. "Oh ! yes !" she answered sadly; "but lam weary, so very weary ! I believe I have walked a hundred miles to-day !" "I know, dear," Mark said, tenderly, fearing to startle her, and with his arm encircling her waist he led her slowly along the street. " Where are we going, Leon ?" They were threading the crowded thoroughfare and Mark did not answer, ft* | Mrs Lee, on the arm of Uncle Sam, was apEroaching them. Leta's face was almost idden on her brother's shoulder, and Candice failed to recognise the girl. She only knew that Mark, her husband, who had shunned her so persistently, was there, face to face with her, with a young girl leaning on him confidingly, his arm encircling her : waist. Uncle Sam had not noticed him at all, I and Ctndice turned from Mark with such a , look of scorn in her wine-brown eyes as rarely visited their limpid depths. But her glasses hid it. Mark had only time to notice the haughty head raised proudly as she passed by, giving him no glance of recognition, " A dead cut 1" he thought, bitterly, as he strove to steady Leta's steps. Mark took his sister to a quiet boardinghouse, engaged rooms, and never left her through all the long hours of the night. He made her take nourishment, and she obeyed him like a child, but beyond a start of surprise when she saw that it was Mark and not Leon who had brought her there, she made no sign. It was true then, all that she had read in the papers. Leon Tatro, her husband, waa a thief, a midnight robber, and he was dead ! She had thought it false, and that ' Leon had found her on the street, but now | she knew it was Mark, her brother, who looked at her with kind, pitying eyes that burned into her very brain. " Let me think," she said, wearily, when Mark addressed her, and he, fearing for her overtasked brain, stole quietly out to obtain for her a composing draught at the nearest drug store. On bis return hef ound her stilleitting where he had left her, with a drawn look on her face, and without a tear to dim the sparkle of her eyes that seemed unnaturally large and bright. " Leta, sister, take this for me, dear ! " Mark said, and she swallowed the draught without seeming to realise what she was doing ; he then went in search of assistance, and one pi the landlady's daughters offered her services. Mark, thinking it would be best, explained to her as far as he dare his sister's sad condition, and tears stood in his listener's eyes when he had finished. He told her Leta had lost her husband very recently, and was nearly crazed by grief. He had done all he could for her, and what she needed now was rest. If she could sleep, it would be better for her, much better. So the good-hearted daughter disrobed and put Leta in bed, where she soon sank into refreshing sleep. The soothing draught had taken effect, and Mark coming in later took his seat by the bedside to watch over her through the night. The landlady's daughter, a blooming young girl,

wKp had been much impressed by Mark's gentlemanly address, busied herself about the room for a few momenta, erery now and then stealing a furtive glance at tho manly fo*'m and handsome face of tbe sufferer's brother. But Ma«'k scarcely noticed her, and with a sigh she told him to call her if f.he was needed. He thanked her for her kind ministrations, and she left the room. Through the long watohei of tlie night Mivk kept his place by Leta's bedside; the weather was cold ana dreary now, and be fe't chilled and unoomfortable ; still he did not stir for fear of startling the sleeping feir*. When the first grey streaks of morning dawned, Mark bent over her uneasily. Was she slumbering yet? Noi the blue eyes were wide open, and she gazed loveingly into Mb faoe. Throwing her arms about his neck, she drew the handsome blonde head, so nearly resembling her own, close down to her and kissed it passionately. "Oh ! Mark ! Mark !" she moaned, with a little, sobbing cry, and then a great storm of emotion shook her like a leaf in the gale. Mark felt the warm tears coursing down the delicate cheek laid bo close against hie own, and knew that she was weeping. 41 It will do her good," he thought as he held ber in his strong, loving arms. Leta grew more composed at last and said, sadly : ! " x ou must despise me, Mark I" "Noi no I Leta!" he answered, tenderly; "and the folks at home still love you dearly !" " And I have wronged them so oruelly '* she ais, scarcely ebcve a whitper. "It is all over now, dear," Mark replied, "and you will go home with me; mother is waiting for us." " I cannot 1 Do not ask me !" she exclaimed. "After a time, perhaps, I may forget ; until then, brother, I am afraid I will be a Bore tiouble to you." "I guess I can survive it!" Mark answered, quietly, and then tried to turn her attention to other things ; he succeeded better than he anticipated. I Finding her quite calm at last, he left her in order to make some further arrangements for her comfort, but hurried first ' directly to his hotel, to write a long letter to his mother. He wrote tenderly of his j erring sister, but stated that the time of their return was very indefinite. "Do not worry, mother," he said in oonclusion; "1 will take care of Leta, and when she is over the bitterest part of her g-ief and mortification, I will bring her homo to you. I know you are impatient, mother, and this waiting is very hard, but look hopefully forward to what the future will surely bring." The letter finished, he posted it, and, thinking Leta would be beßt left alone for a short time, sauntered toward his Uncle Sam's residence. The old gentleman met him cordially. Mark soon knew that his uncle had not recognised him the night before, and was glaa, for it would save all embarrassing explanations, He asked for j Mrs lee in a careless, every -day tone, and his uncle rang the bell, requesting her presence. But Candice had noted Mark's approach from her window, which overlooked the street, and with the memory of the past night'p scene still rankling in her breast, she sent down word she was indisposed, and they would please excuse her. | Mark knew it was but a subterfuge to esoape his presence, but Uncle Sam in bis kind old heart wondered what in the world ailed her. "She was well enough this morning," he said, musingly ; " she must j have been suddenly attacked." ! "I guess she is not dangerously ill," Mark answered, gloomily. "It strikes me, uncle, she will be all right after my departure i" Uncle Sam looked up quiokly, comprehending that something had once more come between the two whom he would give half his fortune to see reconciled. "Why fight against fate!" Mark said to himself, bitterly, on his way to the house ' where Leta lodged. " Surely Mrs Lee can never be more to me than she is now !" But nevertheless he continued to think of Mrs Lee, and her treatment of him made him unutterably miserable. i