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Show eA ett BE THE g ardent loves are ofttimes wrecked. It is true, also, that this letter was an- swered by the return mail, that it crossed the stormy solitudes of the sea, bearing its precious message of ogee and promise. . ~ _Itis likewise true that Bertha ten- WESTERN. WEEKLY. held so menacingly over Richard’s breast father and the housekeeper could only look at each other and repeat alternately: “He is dead!” “He is dead!” Pale as death, Bertha ee them in these exclamations. She said to them in a sepulchral voice: “Yes; he died in New York, but he lives in my soul.” And turning away she fled to her in the cloudy dawn of the morning, on the Mexican plain, ever descended—and the reader is right. For one instant Richard waited with bated breath and quivering flesh, then there came a blinding flash, a crackling, crashing roar that made the very 8ground derly guarded the letter of Adrian Baker, treasuring it as she would a sacred relic. She passed many hours before the piano, running her fingers over the keys and singing in a low and plain- room and seated herself near the balcony tive voice the favorite airs which Adrian where the terrace of the opposite manhimself had taught her. Yet otherwise sion could be seen. The fiowers were tremble, and he knew no more. He awoke to consciousness to find himself the center of an excited group of Indians, to whom Joe Land, standing erect, unbound and unharmed, was talk- ing with fierce gestures in Apache. Near Bertha lived asthe rest of womankind, maintained an excellent appetite and gently swaying in the spring zephyrs and they bent their heads toward Bertha him, rigid and motionless peice of burnt and twisted slept with the tranquil repose of a happy as if to waft her asorrowful salutation. She looked at them without a tear in clenched hand, lay his late captor. In a moment it flashed upon him that her eye; the extreme paleness of her face and the faint tremor that agitated her lips, spoke plainly of the SOrrow his would-be slayer had been struck by lightning, and at that moment, and just heart. She spent her accustomed time at the toilet and took delight in adorning herself. Certain asperities of her character became softened, she spoke with all the naturalness of her old vivacity, and, in truth, the nameof Adrian Baker never passed her lips. These things did not escape the eyes of the father and the nurse, and they naturally concluded that Adrian Baker had left no trace in Bertha’s _ heart. Only one fear alarmed them: the fear that he might return. Another month passed away in tie manner and remembrance of Adrian Baker began to grow dim. If his name was ever mentioned it was like calling up the memory of a dream. Yet there was danger of the signe: Ss assuming an ominous reality. Adrian Baker was likely to return, for, indeed, he had not bid an eternal farewell when he went away. It was true that he was at the other side of the ocean, three thousand miles away, in another world even, but his dwelling was here, just opposite, open, inhabited by his servants, with the same sumptuousness and magnificence as before his departure; that that afflicted her heart. All at once the flight of a white but- terfly, floating in the air, attracted her attention. She watched it with absent eyes, and, as if attracted by her gaze, it abandoned the terrace and rapidly wheeled its circling flight toward the balcony. It entered Bertha’s room and she in- | voluntarily extended her hants as if to catch it, when ina trice the butterfly escaped from between them and began to turn about her head. It enveloped Bertha’s brow in an aureole of light that appeared and disappeared in asuccession of corruscations, similar to the first glow of dawn. Then it passed before her eyes; she saw it hover upon the flowers of the terrace, at last to lose itself entirely as if dissipated into thin air. She sought for it again with unutterable eagerness; but her search was vain, for it did not return to her sight. | Then she crossed her hands; she bowed her head in silence, and two habitation which seemed like an en- great tears welled up in her eyes and chanted palace was awaiting its master, rolled down her cheeks. - and the order and regularity with which The next day as the housekeeper was everything went on init was sufficient entering Bertha’s room, she saw a evidence that the servants did not wish shadow above the head of the bed that to be surprised by the sudden appear- stood out in bold relief upon the wall. ance of that master, which was as much The ‘shadow assumed the form of a as.to say that Adrian Baker might re- human head, and the nurse stopped. . turn at any moment. Indeed, the flowerson the terrace, filled with life and beauty, spread forth their branches as if cared for by the hands of Adrian Baker himself. ~ ; ' Springtime came and: nature awoke with all that wonted richness of vegetation which is characteristic of southern climes. Everything was smiling in adornment and the heart was stirred with the vague pleasure of a hope that approaches its realization. Bertha shared in this awakening of hature and seemed to have acquired new charms: Her eyes seemed larger and fuller, blacker and more brilliant; her glantes.sweeter, more tranquil and profound; her cheeks fresher, softer and more rosy; and her smiles brighter, ten- derer and more lovable. acquired Her form had an ease and majesty that lent a It was the head of Adrian Baker— e in giving the finishing touches to her loveliness. Sie was in the full splendor of her youthful beauty. It so happened one day that the man- >~<~—<>—)>— —> to TO. JANIE, ‘ BY MORONI DUNCAN. When the light of day is dying, And the lengthened shadows lying Athwart the opal-tinted hills, And in the shady grove, Where the air with balmy treasure Fills the heart and soul with pleasure And the nightingale is trilling there spread over the town with We will roam the fragrant wildwood, Hand in hand as in our childhood, And seek the shady grotto where Our early vows were ta’en; hg truthfulness of the report. That dumbfounded, Bertha’s scrape sxichard Alrden’s Fortune. bY aks for a moment believed that the weapon “Do not fear,” he said shall not touch you again.” the ill fated vessel, is at last set at rest. She sank in a gale off——as reported by the mate, Sandy Gibbons, and the bal- count was deposited. hurt one of his children, and that, you and I must stay with them till he is pleased again. There’s no use kickin’ if its one of their durned customs, so we soon after Mr. Endicott appeared at the teller’s window and asked Richard if he wished to see him. “Yes,” replied Richard, “I do indeed, may as well make the best of it, and watch fur a good chance to git out. But don’t forgit yer part, or the jig’s up.” “T’ll do the best I can,” replied Rich- Mr. Endicott. ard. “Dear me!” he exclaimed. “How you startled me. The most remarkable resemblance I ever saw!” “Is it possible,” asked Richard, “that you do not remember me, Mr. Endicott?” escape. But jthey it last, and final; arrived at El Paso. Here they Sea Richard ‘to go his way home ti) Ardentown, A clerk went into an while Joe and room, and At the sound of his voice, and started pale. violently, “Humph!” drawing to go back inner Mr. Endicott looked more closely at him at on wi dow. a almost ejaculated little the further “Humph!. turning banker, back I do not in the recollect you, though your face is strangely familiar to me.” “Surely you must remember me,” said Richard, a strange feeling of loneliness Richard: ‘|and despair coming upon him. “Tam These plans were on out to the Richard Arden—do you know me now? letter. And it was with varied feelings Has a year of hardship and exposure that Richard one day found himself at changed me so?” the entrance of the Merchant’s Exchange “Ah,” said the banker coldly, “I hotel in New York, where he and his thought so. No, I do not remember you father had been well known in former days. Entering, Richard counter where prietor was his walked old up friend, presiding. to the the pro- é his hand, “how are you?”’ Mr. Jones looked up, started, lapsing into his old business smile re- said, taking Richard’s hand: “Upon my soul how vou startled Glad to see you, I’m sure. When me! did you arriver” ~~. “This morning,” replied Richard. “And now, Mr. Jones, will you give me a room? And, by the way, I’m rather short of cash tonight, but I suppose you’ve no | objection to taking my name until I can ‘| see Mr. Endicott, my father’s banker?” ““Well—er—you see,” replied Mr. Jones, his smile relaxing a little, ‘“I—er—don’t seem to remember your name.” “What!” exclaimed Richard with an incredulous expression on his face. “Not remember me! Not remember Richard “Richard Arden !” repeated Mr. Jones, his smile fading away entirely. “Yes, I do remember year since the him, though poor itis fellow nearly went a down with the Vulture. Poor fellow, I would like to see him again.” “Well,” said Richard, “vou can see him—he is here—I am he. Now do you remember me?” counter, and taking up a copy of an paper and do remember old “Young man read this, and then the sooner you leave here the better. This is a respectable house, sir.” Richard fiushed crimson. Then he took the paper from Mr. Jones’ hand young Arden very well. Talso remember that he was lost at sea some time ago, which fact has es- been tablished beyond doubt in the courts. I advise you to give up this game, young: man, if youhave nothing but your remarkable then ah termination were aroused. A policeman came ndly; (neg running up just as one of the men got upon his feet. ance of the crew who, with Mr. George ‘“What’s all this row?” he asked of the Grimshaw, escaped in the boats. Young man. Arden and thecaptain would not desert “Matter? row!” growled the man rubthe sinking vessel, and went down with bing his jaws, “why, that there lovely paagin, and we’d just her. The death of young Arden leaves tient’s got away the Arden estate without a known heir, found her and was aputtin her in that though the executor, Mr. Grimshaw, is there carriage when that there young advertising extensively for claimants.” gent he came up and sent me and “And now. sir,” said Mr., Jones, “go.” Rubens to grass with his ‘one,two,three,’ “Good God!” cried Richard. “You do that’s what the row’s about.” not mean-—you cannot think—” “What right have you—oh, [ see,” iis “That you are an impostor, sir,” said said, recognizing both Grace and her Mr. Jones coldly. captors, as he was the same officer who Angry, indignant, bewildered by what had accompanied them to Mr. Septimus’ he had heard, Richard went out into the residence when they captured her there. So he walked on, and entering the Bani asked to see Mr. Endicott. At that Mr. Jones’ face grew stern. “T gee,” he said, reaching under the CHAPTER XVII. IN WHICH RICHARD LEARNS: THAT HE IS DEAD. In all probability the reader has never young Richard Arden and the captain of yet,” said Joe, after the chief ceased speaking. “The old fish says the Great Spirit is angry with them for trying to Arden?” Foiled by Fate house was filled with mourning and it appeared that even the stones were weeping. The news had some in a black-edged letter, dated at New York and signed by the head member of the firm of Wilson & Co., where Adrian Baker had a large amount of money deposited. Perfectly <ia—>—~4. — the rapidity that bad news always does, and in its course reached Bertha’s home. Adrian Baker dead! As if the life of this man could be subject to the contingencies that environ other mortals! "But the news was confirmed and belief was compulsory. Besides, the appearance of his mansion attested the this “Well, Mr. Jones,” he said, holding out When the merry smiles entrancing | In your roguish eyes are glancing, You trill those songs as sweetly yet As when my heart you won; , in black, as were likewise all the servants Then the flowers shall bend to listen of the house. In their features was the. And the dew more brightly glisten, evidence of extreme sadness. The nightingale his head shall drop What had happened? Simply that To hear his songs outdone. Adrian Baker had died in New York. The news of recover their buried treasure, after which he would come on to Ardentown to meet ¢ With many a wild impassioned kiss We'll pledge them o’er again. deserted out was to organize a party giving it the of a we’re accomplished By the silvery moon’s pale bases Through the pensile vine-wreath stream- appearance if The housekeeper was thunderstruck; she crossed herself as if it were a horrible vision, and rushed’ laway in the greatest terror. sion of Adrian Baker became gloomy as a sepulchre; the blinds were lowered and the great doors of the courtyard closed, house. A deep silence reigned within, but the mansion of Adrian Baker continued to be inhabited. The figure of the porter rose up in the vestibule like a shadow. He was clothed “Blamed the reader with a Richard and Joe simply state that they effected their (TO BE CONTINUED.) One look at her white, terror stricken face, and all Richard’s sympathy and de- as Joe ceased speaking, there came another blinding flash anda deafening roar of thunder, at which the Indians all street. cowered before him, crying in Apache: CHAPTER XVIII. “Spare us, Thunder Spirit!” RICHARD HAS AN ADVENTURE. Quick as thought Joe Land stooped down and drew his knife through the Richard hunted up a cheap lodging for rawhide thong which bound Richard’s the night, and went to bed in a very anarms to his sides, and whispered: gry and uncomfortable frame of mind. “They think you’re ‘Big Medicine.’ a He arose the next morning and. after ‘spirit, you know. Keep your wits about breakfast walked down to Wall Street. you, and don’t give it away!” He had made up his mind to go to Mr. Richard took in the situation in a mo- Endicott, of the Union Bank, with whom ment, and rising slowly to his feet, he had been very well acquainted before stretched out his arms, and in wu solemn his father’s death, and ask him for an tone of voice repeated some outlasdish advance of money sufficient to last him gibberish, at which a loud ery. went up until he could go to Ardentown and setfrom all hands. ; tle up his affairs. A chief then stepped out and with a He had no reluctance in so doing, as reverent salute to Richard, spoke a few Mr. Endicott was president of the bank words to Joe Land. where his father’ s, now his, private ac- We will not weary the same head with its pale brow and ir- detailed account of resitiable eyes, its smile, at the same Land’s captivity, but time sweet, roguish and sad. -|months passed before voluptuous firmness to her movements. It appeared that youth had made asu- FHis sweetest lay of love, preme effort and had produced a masterpie in death, a metal in his and read the paragraph he pointed ‘out. “All doubt as to the = fate of the Vulture, as well. as that of resemblance to young Arden to back you.” : With this cutting speech, uttered ina most freezing tone, the banker was about to retire, when Richard cried ina _ voice trembling with indignation: “But you—surely you do not think— “Oh, I see. Same one isn’t it?” “Yes,” replied the man. bs Walking up to Richard the officer said: “Here, sir, you'll be gettin’ yourself ina muss first thing you know. That young person is a patient in the insane asylum, and these men have the right to take her. She’s escaped.” _ “Do not believe them,” the young lady whispered imploringly, “do not believe them—at least until you hear my story. Keep them off till we reach the house of my only friend just below here, and I will prove them liars.” “T do not believe it,” said Richard, nor shall they lay a hand upon you until I know they have authority to do so.” “Tt’s all right, sir,” returned the offi- cer. “They've got the papers all reg’ lar.” : “Come, now,” he added persuasively, “it’s no use kickin agin the law, so don’t be foolish and get yourself in a hob- ble.” ‘Let them show me their papers,” replied Richard firmly. “A little time,” moaned the girl. “A little time to see my only friend, for God’s sake!” “They aint no use a makin’so much fuss about it,”said the officer, “but you’d better show your guchorty, boys.” “Show up ‘the order, Rubens,” said one of the men after fumbling in his pockets, “and lets git off.” “Order,” repeated his comrade, pausing in the operation of staunching his bleeding nose, “Order!” he repeated, staring blankly at the other, “I aint got no order.. You hadit.~ “Well, I aint got it now,” retorted the other, and the two stood staring. “Your little game is up, my men,” said Richard, and the young oe is in my custody.” The two men swore a great oath as Richard and the lady, who was no other than Grace Stoddart,walked away, while the policeman simply ejaculated: “T’ll be blowed!” In afew minutes Richard and his charge stood at the door of Septimus Smirk’s residence. “T have neither time nor words to thank you,’ See she, “but surely I shall see you again.” “Itis not likely,” he replied, “for I leave the city today.” He proceeded directly to a telegraph office and telegraphed George Grimshaw you cannot believe that I am an—an—” »|that he would arrive that afternoon. “Impostor!” said the banker still more. Then he bought a ticket for Ardentown, after which he had not money enough coldy, as he turned away. With burning cheeks and set teeth left to purchase a meal, and he was hungry, too. Richard left the bank. “Thank God,”he said taking his seat in For an hour or two he walked swiftly but aimlessly on. Then he became the car, ‘I shall soon be home and then cooler, and concluded to telegraph this farce about my being an -impostor will be ended.” to Mr. Grimshaw. Feeling in his pockets as he away, for a scrap of paper upon walked to indite the message, he found a soiled and worn envelope, upon which in large scrawled letters was written: “To Richard Arden.” Hardly aware of the act, he tossed it from him and continued on his way to Smddenly he heard a woman scream and saw two burly ruffians bearing a young lady across the sidewalk to a carriage which was waiting there. All the chivalry in his nature was aroused at sight, and springing forward he struck two savage blows right and left, and the two men went. down like ninepins, while the young CHAPTER XIX. A DESPERATE REMEDY. When Grace Stoddart burst into Septimus Smirk’s residence, she went directly to Septimus, who had arisen and was standing as if petrified with astonishment. the telegraph office. the Would it? which ee Se his arm and cried. “Hor God’s sake, if you are’a man,protect me from those villains!” “Dear friend,” she said, speaking hur- ridly, but clearly and firmly, “I have es- caped, I have come to you—-help me.” “You know, how gladly I or rather, you don’t know will power to aid you, do anything in my Miss Grace,” said Mr. Septimus earnestly, “but tell me—-”’ “Pardon me,” said Grace, “but there is no time to waste in explanations. I was captured again within only a short distance from here, and was rescued by a gentleman. who is a stranger to me, and amt pe « NE far pent Oe a ah er Ce tne a htt ei treet iy etree ee ratte ie ree CE tl SET tare Psi ef 8 MS op aa |