Chapter 94762915

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Chapter NumberTHIRD PERIOD. LVII.
Chapter TitleTHIRD PERIOD. LVII.
Chapter Urlhttp://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article94762915
Full Date1888-10-06
Page Number18
Corrections0
Word Count6209
IllustratedN
Last Corrected0000-00-00
Newspaper TitleSouth Australian Weekly Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1881 - 1889)
Trove TitleThe Legacy of Cain
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THE LEGACY OF CAIF.

By WILK1E COLLINS, Auftor of 'The Woman in White,' 'The Evil Genhu/f &a, &o.

Published by special arrangement with the author. All rights reserve!.] THIRD PERIOD. Chapter LVIL

So it was all Bettled between them. Philip is to throw me away like one of his bad cigars for this unanswerable reason — ' Helena disgusts me.' And lie is to per suade Eunice to take my place and be hie wife. Yes ; if I let him do it. I heard no more of their talk. With that last, worst outrage burning in my my memory I left the place.

On my way back to the carnage the dcg met me. Truly a grand creature. I called him by his mme and patted him. He licked my hand. Something made me speak to him. I said—' If I was to tell you to tear Mr. Philip Dunboyne to pieces wonld you do it?' The great good natured brute held out his paw to shake hands. Well, well, I was not an object of disgust to the dcg. But the coachman was startled when he saw me again. He said something ; I did not know what it was, and he produced a pocket flask containing some spirits, I suppose. Perhaps he thought I was going to faint. He little knew me. I told him to drive back to the place at which I had hired the cab and earn his money. He earned it. On getting home I -found Mrs. Ten bruggen walking up and down the dining room deep In thought. She was startled when we first confronted each other. ' You look dreadfully ill,' she said. I answered that I had been oub for a little exercise, and had over-fatigued my self ; and then changed the subject, ' Does my father seem to Improve uader your treatment 2' I asked. ' Very far from it, my dear. I pro mised that I wonld try what massage would do for him, and I find myself com pelled to give it up.' ' Why ?' ' It escltes him dreadfully.' 'In what way ?' ' He has been talking wildly of events in his past life. His brain is In some con dition which is beyond my powers of in vestigation. Did you ever hear him speak as of his wife's brother V ' No.' ' Or of a place called Low Lanes ? She waited for my reply to this last enquiry with an appearance of anxiety that surprised me. I -had never heard him speak of Low LaneB. ' Have you any particular interest in the place ?' I asked. 'None whatever.' She went away to attend on a patient. I retired to my bedroom and opened my diary. Again jand again I read that re markable story of the intended poisoning and of the manner In which It had ended. I sat thinking over this romance in real life till I waB interrupted by the announce ment of dinner. Mr. Philip Dunboyne had returned. In -Miss Jillgall's absence we were alone at the table. My appetite was gone. I made a pretence of eating and another pretence of being glad to see my devoted lover. I talked to him in the prettiest manner. As a hypocrite he thoroughly m&Sghed

me ; he was gallant, he was amusing. If baseness like ours had been punishable by the Law a prison was the right place for both of r.s. Mrs. Tenbrnggen came in again after dinner, still not quite easy about my health. ' How flashed yoa are !' she said. 'Let me feel your pulse' I Jacghed, and left her with Mr. Philip Dunbovr-e. Passing my father's door I looked ia anxious to see if he was in the excitable state which Mrs. Tenbrnggen had de scribed. Yes ; he was still talking. The attendant told me it had gone on for hours together. On my approaching his chair he called out : — ** Which are you ? Eunice or Helena?' When I had answered him, he beckoned me to coaae nearer. ' I'm gBtting stronger every minute,' he said. ' We will go travelling to-morrow and see the place where you were born. Low LaneB. What an ugly village !? What a stupid name ! I dreamt) of my brother-in-law, the rector, last night. Do you really think he is dead ? Or is it a lie ? Suppose we go and see. Don't tell anybody. I believe I am getting young again. Good-bye.' Sad ! sad ! how will it end ? I wonder whether there is such a place as Low Lanes, and whether I was really born there ? If he said to Mrs. Ten bruggen what he has said to me, why did Bhe not mention that he had spoken of Low Lanes as my birthplace ? Perhaps she thought it was needless to pay mush attention to words spoken in a state of delirium. And no doubt she was right. 1 went back to my bedroom and opened my diary, and read the story again. Waa the poison of which that resolute young wife proposed to make use some thing that acted slowly, and told the doctors nothing if they looked for it after death ? Would it be running too great a risk to show the story to the doctor, and try to get a little useful information in that way ? It would be useless. Ho would make some feeble joke ; ha would say girlB and poisons are not fib company for each other. But I might discover what I want to know in another way. I might call on. the doctor after he has gone out on his afternoon round of visits and might tell the servant I would wait for hia master's return. Nobody wonld be in my way ; L might get at the medical literature ia the consulting- room and find the information for myself. A knock at my door interrnphel me in. the midst of my plans, Mrs. Teabraggen again !— still in a fidgetty state of feeling on the subject of my health. ' What is It?'ehesaid. 'Pain of body, my dear, or pain of mind ? I am anxious about you.' 'My dear Elizabeth, your sympathy is thrown away on me. As I have told yoa already, I am over-tired — nothing more.' She was relieved to hear th*t I had no mental troubles to complain of. ''Fatigue,' she remarked, 'sets itself right with rest. Did you take a very long walk ?' 'Yes.' ''Beyond the limits of the town, of couree ? Philip has been taking a walk in the country, too. He doesn's say that he met you.' These clever people sometimes over reach themselves. How Bhe suggested it to me, I cannot pretend to have dis covered. But I did certainly suspect that she had led Philip, while they were together downstairs, into saying to her what he had already said to Miss JillgaU. I was so angry -that I tried to pump my excellent friend, as she had been trying to pump me — a vulgar expression, but vulgar writing Is such a convenient way of writing sometimes. My first attempt to entrap the masseuse failed completely. - She coolly changed the subject. ' Have 1 interrupted you in welting V she asked pointing to my diary. X'No; I was idling over what I have written already — an extraordinary story which I copied from a book.' ' May 1 look at It?' I pushed the open diary across the table. If I was the object of any suspicions which she wanted to confirm, it would be curious to see if the poisoning story helped her. 'It's a piece of family- history,' I said ; 'I think yon will agree with me that It la really interesting.' She began to read. As she went on, not all her power of controlling herself

could prevent her from turning pale. This change of color in such a woman a little alarmed me. When a girl Is de voured by deadly hatred of a man, does the feeling show itself to other persons in her face 1 I must practice befoie the glass, and train my face into a trustworthy state of discipline. ' Coarse melodrama !' Mrs. Ten brnggen declared. 'Mere sensation. No analysis of character. A made up story.' *' Well made-up, surely,' I answered. 'I don't agree with you.' Her voice - was not quite so steady as usual. She asked suddenly if my clock was right, and declared that she should be late for an appointment. On taking leave she pressed my hand strongly, eyed me with di&truBtfnl attention, and said very em phatically, 'Take care of yourself, Helena ; pray take care of yourself.' I am afraid I did a very foolish thing when I showed her the poisoning story. Has it helped the wily old creature to look Into my inmost thoughts ? Impossible ! To-day Miss Jiilgall returned looking hideously healthy and spitefully cheerful. Although Bhe tried to conceal it while I was present I could Bee that Philip has recovered his place in her favor. After what he had said to her behind the hedge at the farm, she would be relieved from all fear of my becoming his wife, and would joyfully anticipate his marriage to Eunice. There are thoughts in me which I don't set down in my book. I only say ? — We shall see. This afternoon I decided on visiting the doctor. The servant was quite sorry for me when he answered the door. His master had just left the house for a round of visits. I said I would wait. The servant was afraid I should find waiting very tedious. I reminded him that I could go away if I found it tedious. At last the polite old man left me. I went into the consulting room aud read the backs of the medical books ranged round the walls and found a volume that interested me. There was such cuiious Information, in It that I amused myself by making extracts, using the firet sheets of paper that I could find. They had printed directions at the top, which showed that the doctor was accus tomed to write his prescriptions on them. We had many, too many, of his prescrip tions in our house. The servant's doubts of my patience proved to have been well founded. I got tired of waiting and went home before the doctor returned. From morning to night nothing has been seen of Mrs. Tenbruggen today. Nor has any apology for her neglect of us been received, fond as she .Is of writing little notes. Has that story in my diary driven her away ? Let me see what to morrow may bring forth. Today has brought forth — nothing. Mrs. Tenbruggen still keeps away from us. Has the story In my diary anything to do with the mystery of her absence ? I am not in good spirits to-day. My nerves — if I have such things, which is more than I know by my own experience — bave been a little shaken by a horrid dream. The medical information, which soy thirBt for knowledge absorbed in the doctor's consulting- room, turned traitor — armed itself with the grotesque horrors of nightmare — and so thorcngbly frightened me that I was on the point of being fooliesh enough to destroy my notes. I thought better of it, and my notes are lafe mder Jcck and key. Mr. Philip Punboyne is trying to pave

the way for his flight from this house. He speaks of friends in London, whose Ih tereBt will help him to find the employment which la the object of his ambition. ' In a few days more,' he said, ' I shall ask for leave of absence.' Instead ot looking at me his eyes wan dered to the window ; his fingers played restleEsly with his watch chain while he j spoke. I thought I wonld give him a chance, a last chance, of making the atonement that he owes to me. This shows shameful weakness on my part. Doee my own resolution startle me ? Or doeB the wretch appeal — to what 1 To my pity ! It cannot be my love ; t am posi tively sure that I hate him. Well, I atn not the first girl who -has been an un answerable riddle to heraelf. ' Ie there any other motive for your departure V I asked. ' ' What other motive can there be ?' lif1 replitd. I pur what T had to s»y to him In plainer woids irili 'l'iell mtr, Philip, are you beginrm.a in wish that you were a free man again !'' He Btill prevaricated. Wits this because *?e is afraid of me, or because he is not quite brute enough to insult me to my race ? I tried again for the third aad last time. 1 almost put the words into hia mouth. ' I fancy you have been out of temper lately,' I said. ' You have not been your own kinder and better self. Is this the right interpretation of the change that I think I see in yon ?' He answered — 'I have not been very well lately.' ' And that is ah ?' ' Yes— that is all.' There was no more to be eaid ; I turned away to leave the room. He followed me to the door. After a momentary hesita tion he made the attempt to kiss me. I only looked at him — he drew back from me in silence, I left the new Jadaa standing alone, while the shades of even ing began to gather over the room. Chapter LV1IL — Events is the Famil y, Related by Miss Jillgall. 'If anything of importance happens, I trust to you to write an account of it, and to send the writing to me. I will come to you at once, if I see reason to believe that my presence Is required.' Those lines in your last kind reply to me rouse my courage, dear Mr. Governor, and sharpen the vigilance which has always been one of the strong points in my character. Every suspicious circa ca stance which occurs in this house will be (so to speak) seized on by my pen, and will find itself (so to speak again) placed on Its trial before your unerring j aug ment. Let the wicked tremble. I men tion no names. Taking up my narrative where it came to an end when I last wrote I have to say a word first on the subject of my dis cc verieB in regard to Philip's movements. The advertisement of a private enquiry office, which I read in a newspaper, put the tiling into my head. I provided my self with money to pay the expenses by — I blush while I write it — pawning my watch. This humiliation of my poor self has been rewarded by success. Skilled Investigation has proved thab our young man has come to his senses again, exactly as I supposed. On each occasion when he was BuspiciouBly absent from the house he has been followed to the farm. I have been staying there myself for a day or two in the hope of persuading Eunice to relent. The hope has not yet been realised. But Philip's devotion, assisted by my influence, will yet prevail. Let us not despair. Whether Helena knows positively that she has lost her wicked hold on Philip I cannot say. It Beems hardly possible that she could have made the discovery just yet. The one thing of which I am certain is that Bhe looks like a fiend. Philip has wisely taken my advice and employed pious fraud. He will get away from the wretch who has tempted him once and may tempt him again, under pretence of using the Interest of his friend's in London to find a place under Government. He has not been very well for the last day or two, and the execution of our project is in consequence delayed. I have news of Mrs. Tenbruggen which will, I think, surprise yoa. She has kept away from us In a moat unaccountable manner. I called on her at the hotel, and heard that was engaged with her lawyer. On, the next day she suddenly returned to her' old habits and paid the customary visit. I observed a singular alteration in her state of feel* ing. She Ia now coldly civil to Helena ; and she asks after Eunice with a maternal interest touching to see. I said to her — ' Elizabeth, yon appear to have changed your opinion of the two girls since I saw yon.' She answered, with a delight ful candor which reminded me of old times — ' ' Completely. ' 'I said — A woman of your intellectual calibre, dear, doesn't change her mind with out a good reason for it.' Eliza beth cordially agreed with me. I ventured to be a little more explicit — ' You have no doubt made some Interesting discovery.' Elizabeth agreed again; and I ventured again—' 1 suppose I may not ask what the discovery 1b f' '|No, Sellna, you may not ask.' This is curious, but it Is nothing to what I have got to tell you next. Just as I was longing to take her to my bosom again as my friend and confidant, Elizabeth had disappeared, And, alas, alas ! there ia a reason for it which no sympathetic person can dispute. I have juBt received this overwhelming news, In the form of a neat parcel, ad dressed to myself. There has been a scandal at the hotel. That monster in human form, Elizabeth's husband, ia aware of his wife's profes sional fame, has heard of the large suma of money which she earns as the greatest living professor of massage, has been long on the look-out for her, and has discovered her at last. He has not only forced his way Into her sitting-room at the hotel ; he insists on her living with him again ; her money being the attrac tion it is needless to say. If she refuses, he threatens her with the law — the bar barous law which to use his own coarse expression, will ' restore his conjugal rights.' All this I gather from the narrative of iry unhappy friend, which forms one of the two enclosures in her parcel. She haB already made her escape. Ha \ the man doesn't lire who can circumvent Elizabeth. The English Court of Law isn't built which can catch her when she roams the free and glorious Continent. Thevastnees of this amazing woman's mind is what I must pause to admire. In the frightful catastrophe that has befallen her she can Btill think of Philip and Euneece. She is eager to hear of then; mairiage, and renounces Helena with her whole heart. 'I too was deceived by that cunning young woman,' she writes. 'Beware of her, Selina. Unless I am very much mistaken, she iB going to end badly. Take care of Philip, take care of Euneece. If you want help, apply at once to my favorite hero in real life, the Governor.' I don't presume to correct Elizabeth's language. I should have called you the Idol of the women, ' The second enclosure contains, as I snppose, a wedding present. It is care folly sealed, it feels no bigger than an ordinary letter, and it contains an -inscrip- tion which your highly-cultivated intelli gence may be able to explain. I copy £6 as follows : — 'To be enclosed in another envelope, addreBsed to Mr. Danboyne the elder, at Percy's Private Hotel, London, and de livered by a trustworthy messenger on the day when Wr. Philip Danboyne is married to Mbs Eunice Gracedien. Placed meanwhile under the care of Miss Selina Jillgall.' j Why is this mysterious letter to be sent : to Philip's father? I wonder whether { that circumstance will puzzle you as it has puzzled me.

I nave kept my reporb back, so as to eend you the last news relating to Philip's state of health. To my great regret, his illness seems to- have made a serious advance since yesterday. When 1 ask if he 1b in pain, he says ' It isn't exactly pain ; I feel as if 1 was sinking. Some times I am giddy ; and sometimes I find myeelf feeling thirsty and Blck.' I have no opportunity of looking after him as I could wish, for Helena insists on nursing him, assisted by the housemaid. Maria is a very good girl in her way, but too stupid to be of much use. If he is not better to morrow I shall insist on sending for the doctor. He is no better ; and he wishes to have medical help. Helena doesn't seem to uuderatand his illness. It was not until Philip had insisted on seeing him that she consented to send for the doctor. You had Bome talk with this experienced phjsiclan when you were here, and you know what a clever man he is. When I tell you that he hesitates to say what is the matter with Philip you will feel as much alarmed as I do. I will wait to send this to the post until I can write in a more definite way. Two days more have passed. The doctor has put two very strange questions to me. He asked first if there was anybody staying with ub besides the regular mem bers of the household. I said we had no visitor. He wanted to know next if Mr. Philip Dunboyne had made any enemies since he has been living in our town. I eaid cone that 1 knew of — and I took the liberty of asking what he meant. He answered to this that he has a few more enquiries to make, arjd that he will tell me what he means to-morrow. For God's sake come here as soon as you possibly can. The whole bnrden Is thrown on me, and 1 am quite unequal to It I received the doctor to-day In the draw ing-room. To my amazement he asked leave to - Bpeak with me In the garden. When I asked why, he answered — ' I don't want to have a listener at the door Come out on the lawn where we can be sure that we are alone.' When we were in the garden he noticed that I was trembling. ' Bouse your courage, Miss Jillgall,' he said. ' In the minister's helpless state there Is nobody whom I can Bpeak to bat yourself.' I ventured to remind him that he might speak to Helena as well as to myself. He loo.ked as black as thunder when I mentioned her name. AH he said was, ' No !' But, oh, If you had heard his voice — and he so gentle and sweettern tempered at other times — you would have felt, as I did, that he had Helena in hia mind. 'Nowj listen to this,' he went on. ' Everything that my art can do for Mr. Philip Dunboyne while I am at his bed side, is undone while I am away by some other person. He is worse to-day than I have seen him yet.' ' Oh, sir, do you think he will die V ' He will certainly die unless the right means are taken to Bave him, and taken at once. It Is my duty not to flinch from telling you the truth. I have made a dis covery since yesterday which satisfies me that I am right. Somebody is trying to poison Mr. Dunboyne, and somebody will succeed unless he is removed from this house.' I am a poor feeble creatnre. The doctor caught me or I Bhould have dropped on the grass. Ifc was not a faulting fib. I only shook and shivered so that I was too weak to stand up. Encouraged by the doctor I recovered sufficiently to be able to ask him where Philip was to be taken to. He said, ' To the hospital. No poisoner can follow my patient there. Persuade him to let me take him away when I call again In an hour's time.' As soon as I could hold a pen I sent a telegram to you. Pray, pray come by the earliest train. I also telegraphed to old Mr. Dunboyne at the hotel In London. It was impossible for me to face Helena ; I own I was afraid. The cook kindly went upstate to see who was in Philip's room. It was the housemaid's turn to look after him for a while. I went in stantly to his bedside. There was no persuading him to allow himself to be taken to the hospital. 'I am dying,' he said. 'If you have any pity for me, send for Eunice. Let me see her once more, let me hear her say that she forgives me before I die.' I hesitated. It was too terrible to think of Eunice in the same house with her sister. Her life might be in danger ! Philip gave me a look, a dreadful ghastly look. 'If you refuse,' he said wildly, ' the grave 'won't hold me. I'll haunt you for the rest of your life.' ' She shall hear that you are ill,' I answered, and ran out of die room before he could speak again. What I had promised to write, I did write. But, placed between Eunice's * danger and Philip's danger, my heart was all for Eunice. Would Helena spare her, if she came to Philip's bedside ? In such terror as I never felb before ha my life, I added a word more, entreating her not to leave the farm ; and I mentioned that I expected the governor to return to us Im mediately, ' Do nothing,' I wrote, 'without his advice.' My letter having been completed I sent the cook away with it in a chaise. She belonged to the neigh borhood and she knew the farmhouse well. Nearly two hours afterwards I heard the chaise Btop at the door and ran out, impatient to hear how my sweet girl had received my letter. God help us all I When I opened the door the first person whom I saw was Euneece herself.' Chapter L1X. — Events m the Family, Related by Miss Julgall. One surprise followed another a'ter I had encocntered Euneece at the door. When my fondness had excuBed her for setting the well-meant; advice In my letter at defiance I was conscious of ex pecting to eee her In tears ; eager, dis tressingly eager, to hear what hope there might be of Philip's recovery. I saw no tears, 1 heard no enquiries. She was pale, and quiet, and silent. Not a word fell from her when when we met, not a wotd when she kissed me, not a word when &he led the way into the nearest room — the dining room. It was only when, we were shut in together that she epoke. ' Which is Philip's room?' she asked. Instead of wanting to know how he was she desired to know where he was 1 I pointed towards the back dining-room, which had been made into a bedroom for Philip. He had chosen it himself because the window opened Into the garden and he could slip out and smoke at any hour of the day or night when he pleased. ** Who is with him now ?'' was the next thing this sadly-changed girl said to me. ' 'Maria is taking her turn,' I answered ; 'she assists In nursing Philip.' ** Where is ? V Euneece got no further than that. Her breath quickened, ber color faded away. I had seen Deople look aB she was looking now when they suffered under some sudden pain. B afore I could offer to help her she rallied and went fon — ' Where,' Bhe began again, 'is the other nurse V 'You mean Helena?' I said. '1 mean the poisoner.' When I remind you, dear Mr. Governor, that my letter had carefully concealed from her the horrible discovery made by the doctor your imagination will picture my state of mind. She saw that I was overpowered. Her sweet nature, so stratgely frczen up thus far, melted at last. ' You don't know what I have heaiaV'Bhe said, 'you don't know what thoughts bave been roused in me.' She kft her chair and eat on my kaee wkh the ''*\ f'' f f*~ /*% 'T~ t\ t r— s-\ r-i ? *-* ?

familiarity of the dear old times, and took the letter that I had written to her from her pocket. 'Look at it yourself,' Bhe said, 'and tell me if anybody could read it and not eee that you were concealing something. My dear, I have driven round by the 6 octor's house, I have seen him, I have per Euaded him, or perhaps I ought to say sur prised him into telling me the troth. Bub the kind old man is obstinate. He wouldn't believe me when I told him I was on my way here to save Philip's life. Be said, ' My child, you will only put your own life in jeopardy. If I had. not Been that danger I should never have told you of the dreadful state of things at home. Go back to the good people at the furm and leave the saving of Philip to me ' ' ' He was right, Euneece, entirely right.' 'No, dear, he was wrong. I begged him to come here and judge for himself; and I ask you to do the same.' I was obstinate. 'Go back!' I per sisted. ' Go back to the farm !' ' Can I see Philip ?' she asked. I have heard some insolent men say that women are like cats. If they mean that we do, figuratively speaking, scratch at times, 1 am afraid they are not alto gether wrong. An irresistible impulse made me say to poor Euneece — ' This Is a change indeed since you refused to re ceive Philip !' ' Is there no change in the circum stances ?' she asked Badly. *? Isn't he ill and in danger ?' I begged her to forgive me ; I said I meant no harm. *' I gave him up to my sister,' she con tinued, ' when I believed that his happi ness depended, not on me, but on her. I take him back to myself when he Is at the mercy of a demon who threatens his life. Come, Selina, let us go to Philip.' She put her arm round me and made me get up from my chair. I waa so easily persuaded by her that the fear of what Helena's jealousy and Helena's anger might do was scarcely present in my thoughts. The door of communication was locked on the side of the bedchamber. I went into the hall to enter Philip's room by the other door. She followed, waiting behind me. I heard what passed between them when Maria went out to her. ' Where is Miss Gracedien ?' ' Besting upstairs, miss, in her room.' 'Look at the clock, and till me when you expect her to come down here.' 'I am to call her, miss, In ten minutes more.' ' Wait in the dining-room, Maria, till I come back to you.' . She joined me. I held the door opan for her to go into Philip's room. It was not out of curiosity ; the feeling that urged me was sympathy, when I waited a mo ment to see their first meeting. - She bent over the poor, pallid, trembling, suffering man, and raised him hi her arms, and laid his head on her bosom. 'My Philip!' She murmured those words in a kls?. I closed the door ; I had a good cry. and, oh, how it comforted me !' There was only a minute to spara whea she came out of the room. Maria was waiting for her her. Eunlca said as quietly as ever — 'Go and call Miss Gracedieu.' . The girl looked at her, and saw — Idon'b know what. Maria became alarmed. Bat &he went up the stabs and returned In haste to tell us that her young mistress was coming down. The faint rustling of Helena's dress as she left her room reached us in the silence. I remained at the open door of the dining-Toom, and Maria approached and stood near me. We were both frightened. * Euneece stepped forward and stood on the mat at the foot of the Btaira waiting. Her back was towards me ; I could only see that she was as Btill as a statute. The .rustling of the dreBB came nearer. Oh, Heavens, what was going to happen ! My teeth chattered in my head ; I held by Maria's shoulder. Drops of perspira tion showed themselves on the girl's fore head ; she stared In vacant terror at the slim little figure, posted firm and still on the mat. Helena turned the corner of the stairs and waited a moment on the last landing and saw her sister. 11 You here ?' she said. ' Whatdoyon want?' . - There waa no reply. Helena descended until she reached the last stair bub one. There she stopped. Her staring eyes grew large and wild ; her hand shook as she Btretched it out feeling for the bannister ; she staggered as she caught at tb, and held herself up. The silence waa Btill un broken. Something in me stronger than myBelf drew my steps along tile hall, nearer and nearer to the stairs till I could see the face which had struck that mur derous wretch with terror. I looked. No 1 it was not my sweet girl ; It was a horrid transformation of her. I saw a fearful creature with glittering eyes that threatened some unimaginable vengeance. Her Ups were drawn back ; they showed ber clenched teeth. A burning red flush dyed her ?''». The ts'jr of her bead rose little by liuit), slowly'; and, moot dread ful sight of all, she seemed in the Bttlinew of the house to be listening to something. li I could have moved I should have fled to the* first place of refuge I could find. If I could have raised my voice I should have cried for help. I could do neither the one nor the other. I could only look, look, look, held by the horror of It with a hand of iron. Helena must have roused her courage and resisted her terror. I heard her speak — 'Let me by!' 'No.' Slowly, steadily, in a whisper, Euneece made that Teply. Helena tried once more — still fighting against her own terror ; I knew it by the trembling of her voice. ' Let me by,' she repeated ; ' I am on my way to Philip's room.' ' You will never enter Philip's room again.' 'Who will stop me?' 'I will.' She had spoken In the same steady whisper throughout — bat now she moved. I saw her set her foot on the firsb stair, I saw the horrid glitter in her eyes flash close into Helena's face. I heard her say— 'Polaoner, go back to your room.' Silent and shuddering Helena shrank away from her — daunted by her glittering eyes, masterd by her lifted hand pointing up the stairs. Helena slowly ascended till she reached the landing. She turned and looked down ; she tried to speak. The pointing hand struck her dumb and drove her up the next flight of stairs. She was lost to view. Only the small rustling sound of the dress was to be heard growing fainter and fainter ; then an interval of stillness ; then the noise of a door opened and closed again ; then no sound more — but a change to be seen ; the transformed creature, a fearful creature no longer, was crouching on her knees, still and silent, her face co vered by her hands. I was afraid to ap proach her ; I waB afraid to speak to her. After a time she rose. Suddenly, swiftly, with her head turned away from me, Bhe opened %the door of Philip's room — and was gone. I looked round. There was only Miria In the lonely hall. Shall I try to tell you what my sensations were ? It may sound strangely, but it Is true— I felt like a sleeper who has half awakened from a dream. (To be continued. i