CHAPTER XXV. AN HONOURABLE NAME.

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

CHAPTER XXV. AN HONOURABLE NAME.

The days that followed were vexatious to Mark. Part of the time Lefca would throw off her sorrow and appear almost cheerful ; then the old melancholy would reassert ! itself, and she would spend hours brooding 1 and bewailing her wasted life. Mark, finding her one day in an easy frame of mind, gave her the packet of letters and the ring, and then, with great pity for her in his kind blue eyes, told her of the death of the man she had called her husband Leta listened gilontly ; taking the package of letters from his hands, she looked them over carelessly, and then handed them back to him. What did it all mean ? She could not understand it. Why was so much about the " Countess Lucerne " written on them all 1 Mark read them carefully, and as he read the interest they inspired showed itself on his handsome face. " Leta," he said at laet, although your husband died an outlaw's death, there are extenuating circumstances. When very i young he was led into crime by one much older than himpelf ; he fled to this country for safety, but his evil genius followed him here, and he plunged deeper and deeper into sin I until he perpetrated the daring Act of burglary that ended his career. But, sister," and Mark straightened up his form proudly, " for all his misdeeds he has left you an honourable name, thank Heaven ! These papers prove your right beyond dis* pute to the title of Countess Lucerne. They speak of an estate in France. Some time we will investigate it thoroughly. Until then, Leta, be satisfied that the name you will hereafter bear is an honourable one, and unknown to the police record !" After that Mark always addressed her as " Mrs Lucerne," and she was better satisfied, as the name did not recall so forcibly the cause of her unhappy position. She had loved her husband dearly, thinking him noble and good, and now that he was dead, she pitied him that the life begun so auspiciously should have ended in shame. And he had loved her, too, for even at the last he tried to guard her from the consequences of his reckless acts. What might he not have made of that life if he had tried i But instead be bad gone recklessly on, inviting his own destruction. Finding Leta had determined not to re* turn to valley Farm, after urging her repeatedly, Mark gave up the task as hope* less, and waited patiently for the time when she would consent to go of her own free will. "I cannot bear to meet them yet," «he said, pleadingly, in answer to all Mark's anxious questionings, and he wu forced to be oontent. < Alice and Mrs May nard wrote tender, en* treating letters for the absent ones to return, but Leta shrank from the homereturning, the glances of wondering eyes, and the scornful remarks of her acquaintances, as from a pestilence, and Mark, knowing by experience that hearfc-wonnde,

tbough ham to bear at flrit, grow gradually lean painful as time elapses, bore with her patieuli'y. One evening the brother and sister were eitting together, talking quietly. Again winter winds whistled and moaned around tbe house oorners. They had found this boarding-home very comfortable indeed.and still stayed on, never thinking of changing. The gat was light 3d- and Mark was gazing lazily at the glowing embers in the orate, with his face tnrned toward the winuow. Leta was directly opposite him, toying Absently with tbe leaves of a new magazine Mark had just brought home to her, hoping to wean her from thoughts of other things. She was rapidly learning to be content, if not happy ; and Mark hoped he would soon be able to take her home to Valley Farm, 1 there to complete the lesson of forgetf ulness if that were possible. " Mark," Leta said, in a hesitating tone, as if fthe dreaded giving pain, for she had borne so much lately herself that ahe was beginning to be very tender of other's feelings, "Mark, have you ever heard from Candice?" "No, Leta, never 1" Mark answered, his voice unsteady with emotion, " Whether she is living or dead I know not I" " Forgive me, brother, I did not mean to pain you," .Leta. continued, " but you will find her some day I am sure." "If l could only think so!" Mark answered, sadly. "I am afraid my sweet girl-wife will never know how bitterly I regi'et the pact I • Leta, these lines are always ringing in my ears and haunting met "'lt I could live mr life again, .And know what I do now. Full many a word would be unsaid— And never & broken \ ow I' "But we cannot live our lives again, sister. I suppose the wrong I did, half in thoughtlessness, will be always written again&t me, for I cannot wipe it out. I have repented bitterly long ego, but that can do no good !" Mark's voice died away in silence ; Leta rose from her chair and stood behind him, smoothing his curly blonde hair. Was it fate that, just at that moment, Candice and Mra Chamberlain, returning from a charitable visit and attracted by the appearance oC the group within, should stand an instant in tbe street to gaze into that cozy little room? It was only for a second; then Candice clutched her companion's arm nervously and hurried her ori, for tbe Bight that greeted the poor wife's eyes had caused the warm life blood to almost congeal about her heart, and she felt as if she must faint if she remained longer. Surely there was nothing in that quiet home Bcene to occasion so much distress in her friend, Mrs Chamberlain thought, A handsome young man, in dressinggown and slippers, sitting before the fire, seemingly content with his surroundings, and by his side, with one hand toying with his shoit curly locks, a young girl standing. Her face was in the shadow, and all they could see was a delicate profile and masses of golden hair coiled high on the head. A quiet home scene, nothing more, and Mrs Chamberlain gazed on it with a smile wreathing her lipa, "A trifle spoony !" she said, with a light laugh, as Candice hurried her along. "Hot yet over the honeymoon by all appearances !" Her companion uttered not a word. Mrs Chamberlain wondered why Mrs Lee had so little to say the rest of the way home. She did not know it was an effort for her companion to utter the merest trifle. At last home was reached, good-night l \\C and Candice was left alone, to brood over the scene she had juat witnessed. Uncle Sam had retired, and she hurried to her own chamber and locked herself in. She heard Baby Mark in the room across the hall talking to Katie gayly ; she did not go to him, but only put her hand to her head as if the shrill treble voice worried her. She did not weep, but sat there and thought what did it all mean ? How could Mark marry again, not know ing whether his girl-wife was living or dead ? If it was not his wife, who then was that golden-haired girl she had seen him wi f h now for the second time ? When mur-rinpr dawned she had not closed her eyes i> -'cop, and looked haggard and wan. Undo 6a in. asked her kindly if she was ill, and she answered, " I nave a headache, that is all." He thought to himself if she had said heart-ache she would have comei nearer the truth.