Nebraska Newspapers

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VOL. IX.
II
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Great Clearing Sale !
FOB CASH ONLY.
worth
of
Goods,
Such as Clothing for Men, "
Boys and Children, Gents'
Furnishing Goods, Hats,
Caps, Boots and Shoes,
Will be Sold at
ilCTUilL COST I
Nothing will be reserved in this sale. Every
thing goes AT COST FOR CASH ONLY. Now
is your time-to buy goods according ro the times.
Model : Clothing : House,
.Cas: ISinsteirL, Proprietor.
North Platte National Bank,
NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA.
IPaid up Capital,
&75.000.
c. r. hidings,
A. T. BTKKITX,
DIBECTOK8:
O. M. CARTER,
M. C. LINDSAY,
H. OTTKN,
D. V. BAUEIL
M. ODESST,
A. D. UUCKWORTU..
All businoM intrusted to ub handled promptly, carefully, and .at lowest rates.
C. F. IDDINGS,
JJ-MBER
COAL, ;
!
H 1 A.3XTP C3rH.AIKT.
Order by telephone from Newton's Book Store.
Dr. N. McOABE, Prop.' J. E. BUSH, Manager.
NORTH PLATTE PHARMACY,
Successor to J. Q. Thacker.
NOBTH PLATTE, - ISTEBKASKA.
AIM TO HANDLE THE BEST GRADE OF GOODS,
BELL THEM AT REASONABLE PRICES, AND WARRANT
EVERYTHING AS REPRESENTED.
Orders from the country and along the line of tlie Union
Pacific Railway Solicited.
IT. J. BROEKE 11,
v.
Merchant Tailor,
LARGE STOCK OF PIECE GOODS,
embracing all the new designs, kept on "hand and made to order.
PERFECT FIT GUARANTEED.
PRICES LOWER THAN EVER BEFORE
Spruce Street, between Fifth and Sixth.
THE CASIM) BILLTAED HALL.
J. E. GRACE, Proprietor.
SUPERIOR BILLIARD and POOL TABLES.
Bar Stocked with the Finest of Liquors.
A QUIET AND ORDERLY RESORT
Where gentlemen will receive courteous treatment at all times and
where thej will always be welcome. Our billiard and pool hall
is not surpassed in the city and lovers of these games can
be accommodated at all times.
NORTH PLATTE, NEBRASKA WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1893.
NO. 4!u,
A Transferred Identity.
By EDITH SESSIONS TUPPEB.
Copyright, IMS, by American Press Association.!
CHAPTER X.
MAURICE.
. The morning dawned cheerless and
gloomy. A storm was setting in. The
dull gray clouds weighed upon the hori
zon even as my dreadful discovery op
pressed my heart.
Lifo seemed intolerable. As I sat at
breakfast and studied Portia's face the
faco of a murderer it was at times
with difficulty that I kept from scream
ing aloud. I did not allow Daphne ta
go out of my sight, but kept her with
me, amusing her iu every possible way
with toys and story books.
I was conscious, too, that Portia was
watching "me. She evidently possessed
half defined suspicions;f or once she asked
mo in a careless manner, which was pal
pably assumed, whotfier I had heard
any unusual sounds about the house the
night before. I said "no" and in return
asked the reason of her inquiry. Sho
replied she had slept lightly and would
have said that once sho. heard the hall
door shut.
"She is sounding me," I reflected and
forthwith grew as cunning as my inter
locutor. "No," I said indifferently. "I heard
nothing."
It was nearly noon when a carnage
dashed up to the piazza, and a tall, fash
ionably dressed man alighted, looked
about "with some curiosity, paid the
driver and then ran lightly up the front
steps. Presently the great knocker re
sounded through tho hall.
"A visitor," I said, with some interest,
for visitors were not numerous at
Swamplands.
Tom, the butler, came into the library
carrying a card on a silver salver. Por
tia was lying on a broad couch drawn
up before the open fire, sleeping or feign
ing sleep. Sho had not seen the car
riage drive up and opened her big eyes
lazily as Tom approached her.
'What is it?"' she murmured languidly.
"A gem'man, missis."
Portia took the card and read it. She
stared at tho name before her in a dazed
manner. At last she turned her blood
less face toward me.
"Prudence," she said, wearily passing
her hand over her head.
' "Yes, Portia," I answered, leaving
Daphne in the window with her dolls
and going over to her mother.
"Read that name aloud," she com
manded, thrusting the card in my hand.
I read, "Maurice Raymond."
"I could not see then he lias come,"
Portia muttered in incoherent, wander
ing fashion. Then sharply to Tom, "I
will not see him."
Tom bowed gravely and was -about to
go, when I said: "Portia, is not this the
guest you have been expecting? "What
would Colonel Marchmont say if you
were to send such a message as that?
Had yon not better reconsider?"
"You see him. Prudence," she begged
hi an almost childish fashion. "I cannot
go in now. I must go Tip stairs, dress
and compose m3self."
"Very well, Portia. I will do my best
to entertain him until yon are ready to
relieve me. But do not tax me too long."
Portia did not reply, but rose and left
the room. Sho appeared confused and
helpless. Suddenly I recalled the proph
ecy of theoldnegress "Dangeh is comin
from do souf." Ah, perhaps the peril
which had menaced Portia was at hand.
As I entered thedrawing room the vis
itor rose quickly and came forward to
greet mo. What most impressed mo in
this first meeting with Maurice Ray
mond was the atmosphere of latent
power which seemed to emanate from his
personality. He was not a handsome
man, though hi3 face was good, his deep
set eyes keen, his nose straight. Hi3
lips were not hidden by beard or mus
tache, and in their firm lines I read the
positive character of the man. He car
ried himself like a prince, with grace
and hauteur. His general appearance
was impressive and commanding.
"You are not Mrs. Marchmont?" he
said half in inquiry as he took my hand.
"No, indeed," I replied "Mrs. March
mont's friend, Prudence Mason. Mrs.
Marchmont i3 not feeling well and
hopes you will excuse her for a little
while."
"And the colonel?" asked the visitor.
, "Ho is somewhere about the planta
tion, but will soon be in for luncheon."
"I have arrived a few days ahead of
time," said Mr. Raymond, "but I finished
my business iu Atlanta sooner than I
had anticipated and so hurried on. I
was so anxious to seo the country in
which I passed my boyhood, and above
all to see my dear cousin again, whom
I remember as the idol of my youth a
beautiful and lovely girl."
"Mrs. Marchmont is a very beautiful
woman," I said gravely.
"There is a child, I believe," said Mr.
Raymond. I called Daphne from the li
brary, glad of an excuse to have her once
more in my sight. She came running in,
delighted to see a stranger, and was soon
on very good terms with the visitor.
Presently Colonel Marchmont entered,'
profuse with apologies and extending a
genuine southern welcome to his guest.
"Why, where is Portia?" he demanded,
looking about after tho first greetings
were exchanged.
As diplomatically as possible I ex
plained her absence. But a dark look
crossed her husband's face, and ringing
for a maid he ordered her to tell her mis
tress that Colonel Marchmont desired
her presence at once in the drawing room.
In a few minutes the soft swish of
Portia's silken skirts was heard. She
came in with bowed head and toying
nervously with a dainty fan she held.
She did not look her cousin iu the eyes
as she extended her limp hand and
turned coldly away as quickly as possi
ble after her little speech of welcome
uttered in perfunctory fashion.
I could see that Mr. Raymond was
both pnzzled and disappointed with his
reception. He watched his cousin curi
ously, though he did not address much
of his conversation to her, but chatted. I
with the colonel on various topics, occa- '
sionally turning to me with a swift, rare
smile which brightened his rather severe .
face. I
Portia preserved her attitude of con- J
strained defiance. When questions were
directed to her, she answered them
briefly, but kept her eyes fixed upon the
floor. Colonel Marchmont was greatly
annoyed, but did his best to cover his
wife's delinquencies in entertaining. We
were all relieved when luncheon was announced.
Siic stand at the name bcforihcr.
At the tablo ine constraint was not
quite so marked. Once or twice Portia
lifted her heavy lids and shot scrutiniz
ing glances at her cousin. But Mr. Ray
mond's face was inscrutable and sphinx
like. He had lost the pnzzled air he at
first wore, and no one could possibly
havo read what was passing in his mind.
He complimented Portia upon the
preservation of her beauty; he petted
Daphne; he charmed tho colonel. How
did he affect me?
Maurice Raymond fascinated me. I
had never met a man at once so brilliant
and kindly. A beautiful, strong soal
looked out of his keen gray eyes. His
conversation was intellectual and re
freshing. I studied him constantly, al
ways recalling the words I had heard
at the gato the night before, "Dangeh
comin from de souf awful."
If the prophecy of old Jezebel should
come to pass if indeed the danger which
threatened Portia were coming through
her cousin she well had need to trem
ble, for in this keen, observant, brainy
man she would meet an adversary
worthy of her skill.
CHAPTER XI.
A SLIGHT ENCOUNTER.
After luncheon the colouel took his
guest out to view the plantation, and we
did not s- (hem again until dinner.
Portia was absolutely dazzling when
she swept in and took her seat at the
head of the table. Sho was dressed in
scarlet from head to foot. Her superb
shoulders rose from folds of fiery silk,
and the little feet that wandered in and
out beneath her skirts were shod in the
same lurid hue. She looked a veritable
daughter of Mephisto. Her eyes spar
kled dangerously, and on her face was
an expression of audacity. Evidently
she had nerved herself for the oncoming
contest which was in the air.
When Maurice saw her, he coolly and
deliberately ran his eyes over her cos
tume and then said nonchalantly as he
shook out his napkin, "Evidently you
have overcome that intense dislike of
scarlet which was one of your marked
traits as a girl, belle cousino."
Portia did not answer, but looked
straight at him. V
"It was most extraordinary," contin
ued Maurice. "I never knew any one to
hate a particular color as 3ou hated red.
Do you remember what you used to
call it?"
"No," said Portia.
"A nigger color," replied Maurice,
"and declared it only fit for the quad
roon girls."
A great pallor .overspread Portia's face,
but she laughed and lifted her glass of
sherry to her lips.
"How absurd!" she said. "Well, other
times, other manners."
"Yes," said Raymond as he lifted his
glass to her, "I myself adore scarlet. It
is vibrant with life and action."
"Do you remember, cousin," he went
on as ho set down his glass, "do you re
membsr the day your pony ran away
and threw you? I can see you now lying
white and cold on the moss and and
why, what the deuce was your pony's
name? tho one your father brought
from Atlanta and to whom yon were so
devoted. Astonishing that I can't re
member I know the name of that par-,
ticular nag as well as I do my own.
Surely, cousin, you can help me."
"No, I do not remember," said Portia
in a low voice.
"The chestnut with the white mane
and tail. Jacko no ah! was it not
Jacqueline?"
"Oh, yes!" cried Portia, as if greatly
relieved.
"No, no, cousin," said Maurice. "Why,
no; Jacqueline was the pony j-our father
got after the runaway a black one. But
the chestnut how amazing that neither
one of us can recall hsr name!"
"I havo such a wretched memory," be
gan Portia.
"There, too, you have changed," rat
tled on Maurice. "Why, Portia, I used
to boast of your remarkable memory.
Tho dates, the names, the numbers, yon
would dash off were astounding. I re
member it was rather a trial to me that
your memory should be so superior to
mine."
I could seo that Portia was worried,
and also that for some reason Mr. Ray
mond was trying to trap her. But to
what purpose? Was this his revenge
for the frigid reception she had given
him? t
All through dinner he was constantly
reminding her of some of their youthful
experiences. Occasionally, she answered
him understandingly, but as a rule her
replies were wide of the mark. One
would have said that so far as that period
of her life was concerned Mrs. March
mont's memory was a blank.
When we entered the drawing room,
Maurice opened the grand piano, and
turning to Portia said with great ami
ability: "Dear cousin, I am longing to hear
your sweet voice again. Sing some of
those dear old songs."
I looked at Portia. Would she sing
at his bidding? Again and again during
my stay had I asked her to sing for me,
but she had always refused on one pre
text or another.
"You will excuse me, cousin," she
said coldly. "I gave np singing long
since. I found my voice was growing
thin and metallic and could not endure
its sound."
"That is absurd," said Colonel March
mont, suddenly rising and coming over
to ns. "She sang just as well as she
ever did before I went to England. On
my return she refused to sing and has
persisted in that determination ever
since. One of her many caprices."
"How long were you in England,
Marchmont?" asked Mr. Ravmond qui
etly. . "A year," replied the colonel. "I was
detained on business. I was sent for as
the heir to property near Nottingham,
and after I sot there a pretender turned
np. weu, you anowtne laws delay,
especially in that slow going country.
The result,, was, I was away from
Swamplands for over a twelvemonth."
"And during that time you were lady
of the manor," said Mr. Raymond to
Portia, "What an terminable absence!"
he continued, fumbling the music, "but
then the reunion how delightful!"
Colonel Marchmont looked r embar
rassed, while Portia was very pale. What
manner of man was this who appeared
to play upon their heart strings? It was
not possible that so observant a student
of human nature conld have failed to
remark the cool relations existing-be-tween
tho husband and wife. No. Mr.
Raymond was simply drawing them
!!
MiOiili
IPI
L
.f saw him rmiqMy seize her arm.
out. The situation was becoming
straiced, when I broke the ico by sitting
down at the piano and playing a few se
lections in my amateur fashion.
. I was conscious that Colonel March
mont left the room after a few minutes
and that Portia and her guest were alone.
Just over the piano linng a huge old
fashioned mirror, and glancing in it I
saw an extraordinary scene. I saw our
polished, courtly visitor suddenly ap
proach his hostess, who shrank back with
a look 0 absolute terror on her face. I
saw him roughly seize her arm and push
back the loosely flowing sleeve and in
tently scrutinize the lovely bare flesh.
In vain she silently struggled to free her
self. He held her firmly and examined
her arm as a scientist, might study an in
sect under a microscope. Suddenly he
raised his eyes from her arm to her face
and smiled so tauntingly, so malevolent
ly, that Portia gave a faint little moan
and fell back in her chair.
"Mis3 Mason," said Mr. Raymond, "I
fear Mrs. Marchmont is ill."
I-spraug io her side and lifted her head.
Portia had fainted!
CHAPTER XH.
A BATTLE ROYAL. -
In reading over what I have written I
find I appear more or less in the role of
an accidental eavesdropper. I am now
about to describe a sceno to which I was
an intentional listener.
Let me excuse invselt. I had become
firatly-convmcsi that Portia wa3 plot-.
tvig harm to uapnne; that sue was visit
ing tho old hag of Dead Man's swamp
to urge her to hasten tho destruction of
tho child, for whom, through some un
accountable madness, she had conceived
a violent hatred.
I felt myself, then, quite justified in
frustrating her wicked schemes. I con
stituted myself a detective and watched
Portia unceasingly. I determined that
at tho first suspicions movement I would
report everything to Colonel Marchmont
and leave him to act.
But Maurice Raymond! He was al
most as great a mystery to mo as his
cousin. And my instinct warned me
that he, too, was stndying and watching
Portia. His puzzled air at first sight of
her, his quizzing and leadiug questions,
and above all that inexplicable examina
tion of her arm in so rude and masterly a
fashion were all mystifying and vexing.
How I wished to penetrate his thoughts,
to read what was passing behind the
impassive face! At times I was prompt
ed to seek him and confido all the de
tails which were so troubling me, but
my natural timidity and reticence for
bade this step.
Portia was like a caged tigress these
days. She fumed and stormed and
lashed herself into tempests of rage.
She feared and hated this cool, calm, in
scrutible man, who was for some reason
dissecting and analyzing her. She tried
to asroid him, but it was useless. He
was ever at her side. Did she lounge in
one of the great bamboo piazza chairs,
Mr. Raymond took the one next her. If
she snatched a shawl and fled down one
of tho garden paths, Maurice at once
lighted a cigar and followed, keeping at
a respectful distance enough, but allow
ing her to see she was under his constant
surveillance.
His manner, too, when he addressed
her was peculiar. It was a combination
of authority and mocking courtesy. She
winced percoptibly when he spoke to
her and Beemed relieved when his utter
ance was not a question concerning the
past.
I marveled greatly that Colonel March
mont did not mark tho comedy or was
it a tragedy? that was being enacted
under his eyes. But he appeared to live
apart, wrapped in sorrowful and glooniy
thonghts, and rousing only when his
child sprang upon his knee and cuddled
closely to his heart.
But to return to the scene of which I
was at first an involuntary, then inten
tional listener. One dreary, rainy after
noon I was sitting in the window seat of
the library, the heavy curtains shutting
me in and completely concealing me from
view. I knew Daphne was asleep in
the nursery with Sophie watching her.
The colonel had driven to the neighbor
ing town. Portia had shut herself in her
rooms after luncheon and refused to ad
mit mo when I knocked. I supposed Mr.
Raymond to be in the smoking room at
the end of the halL Presently, however,
I heard a man's tread, and peering be
tween the curtains saw him come in the
library, throw himself down in a big
easy chair in the corner by the fire and
fall to studying the glowing coals.
I reflected whether I should speak to
him, but decidednot. "He will gosoon,"
I thought, "and in any event ho would
not care to talk to me."
. The door softly opened, and Portia
came in. She wore a long white dress
ing gown, and her heavy braids of hair
were tumbling down. She appeared
half asleep and did not see her cousin.
Crossing to the bookshelves, she selected
a novel, and turning prepared to leave
the room, but with the. quick, stealthy
spring of a tiger Maurice was before
her. He locked the door, and turning
gave her a terrible smile.
"How dare you?"' she panted.
"Thejstereotyped imestionof a woman
-when she is vanquished," sneered he.
"Dear cousin, why do you not go in for
something original?"
"Open that door," sho fumed, "and
let me go."
"I will not," he retorted. "Do you
think after all the skirmishing between
ns sinco my arrival now that it has
come to battle that you are to escape
me? That may be your mode of fight
ingto run away; I think it very likely
but it does not please me."
She turned toward the bell rope, .evi
dently with the intention of summoning
help. With a cruel laugh, he whipped
out his knife and cut the rope and
tossed it contemptuously at her feet.
"Ring for your servants, do," ho said
tauntingly.
I began to be frightened. Ought I to
make my presence known? While I hes
itated Portia spoke:
"I am not afraid of yon, you coward."
"Oh, yes, you are," he retorted lightly.
"You have been afraid of me ever since
I came before I came. I do not won
der you yon"
"Maurice, Maurice," she cried wildly.
"Don't dare to call me Maurice when
we are alone," he said, "you may keep
up the farce before others a little long
er" "Farce!" she cried. "Enough. Iwill
not be insulted any longer. Open that
door, Mr. Raymond, and let me go, or I
will rouse the whole house."
He simply burst out into a fit of the
most mocking laughter I have ever
heard. It maddened Portia, and she
flew at him like a fury. He caught her
hands and pushed her way.
"Sit down," he said sternly, "and lis
ten to me. Yon have not imposed upon
me. I have recognized your infamy.
You have deluded everybody but me,
though I think the little northern girl
suspects you. She is not a fool. You
are clever and cunning, but you have
gone too far. Your inhumanity to that
poor innocent child shall be avenged. I
pT
w - 111 il .JTfV I I 1
Idih mm !
"Open that door," she fumed,
mr. anJ'
Kt
know more than you suspect. I know
tho key you carry which will only un
lock one door. I know of your midnight
walks. I know your, friends in Dead
Man's ewampJ'
Portia staggered to her feet.
"Have mercy ! Have pity !' she moaned.
"The mercy you havo shown to the in
nocent shall be yours," he said, with
flashing eyes. "You arc not a woman,
but a vampire. Go now," and he un
locked tho door. "Go, but do not for
one moment think ybu can escape me.
You are as much my prisoner as though
chained in a cell. Go to your rooom
and stay there until I send for you."
Moaning, shivering and cowed, Portia
rushed by this terrible man. I heard
her lagging footsteps ascend thestair3
and the sound of her moaning die along
the corridor.
Then I parted the curtains and stepped
out.
CHAPTER Xm.
NORTH AND SOUTH.
I think for once in his life Mr. Maurice
Raymond wa3 nonplused. However,
he speedily recovered.
"Ah!" he cried, "you sly little Puri
tan, eavesdropping were you? Do j'ou
think that is a nice trick for good little
girls?"
"Sir!" I said 'stiffly, "lam neither a
PuritJin nor a good little girl"
"No?" he askedgood humoredly, "are
you then a pagan and a bad little girl?"
"Please remember I am not on the
witness stand," I retorted, "and do not
try to muddle mo with vain questions."
At this he shouted with laughter.
"I am glad yon find mo amusing," I
said, with considerable severity.
"I do," he cried. "You are delicious
with your prim little ways, and your
stiff little speeches, and your dear little
face"
"Sir!" I exploded.
"Pardon me, my child. I have no
right to speak of you in that way. But
come," catching my hands in his and
drawing me away from the window,
"tell me, how came you to be spying
and eavesdropping?"
"I was not spying," I sputtered indig
nantly. "I was reading there when you
came in. I wish now I had made my
presence known, and that I had not been
a witness of your unpardonable severity
to that poor, wretched, half mad wo
man." -
"Oh! Sho is half mad, is she?" he
asked, assuming liis puzzled and ques
tioning air.
"Why, cannot you see her condition
for yourself?" I asked. "And I must say
that while it is just as well she should
know that you have remarked her cruel
ty toward Daphne I think you might
have been less harsh with her. Poor Por
tia is not to blame. She is the victim of
some dreadful spell cast over her by those
vile creatures, those voodoos in Dead
Man's swamp."
Mr. Raymond caught me by the shoul
ders and bent his head to scrutinize my
face.
"What do you know, child," he mut
tered, "of Dead Mans swamp and the
people there? You couldn't have been in
that ghastly place."
"No," I replied, "I have not been there,
but I know enough about it and the bale
ful influence it ha? exerted on my poor
friend's life. My desire is to save Por
tia, to see her restored to her right mind
and bring her once more to her husband
and child."'
"Why, so is mine," he answered, with
a curious expression.
"Well, this is no way to go about it,"
I said, "to fly at a crazy woman, call her
a vampire, taunt her, alarm her, talk
about chaining her in a cell and all that,
To be sure, it's just like a man. You are
not to blame, I suppose, for your
brusquerie, which amounts almost to
to" I hesitated.
"Well, well, out with it! Let's hear
the dreadful word," he cried.
"Brutality!" I said.
"So I was brutal, was.1?" he asked
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"Indeed vou were. I had no icTea that
a courteous gentleman could behave so
villainously to a suffering woman."
"Well, now, tell me," said Mr. Ray
mond quite solicitously I fancied, "how
should I have approached Portia?" 1
"It is quite right to be firm and de
cided with her," I answered. "I think
myself she needs a. strong hand. You
can see for yourself how little attention
her husband pays to her, and I blame
Colonel Marchmont greatly for this de
plorable state of affairs. He neglects
his wife, treats her with contempt and
coldness. What can a man expect?
Why, I heard him say a dreadful thing
to her one evening. She was dancing in
the hall somewhat boisterously, to be
sure" the blood rushed to my face as I
recalled that abandoned dance "and he
told her that her dancing was more suit
able to the orgies of Dead Man's swamp
than to a gentleman's house."
"Quito right, too,"' interposed Mr.
Raymond.
"Oh. vou are as bad as he, x said, ami
it suddenlv occurring to mo that Mau
rice was still holding-my hands I tried tq
draw they away, but he only tightened
hi3 grasp.
"Don't, Prudence," he said very quiet
ly, "don't take your hands away. Poor
little fragile claws," looking down on
them, "I could easily crush them, but
they are good hands." He suddenly bent
his head and kissed them.
It was the first caress I had ever re
ceived from any one save Portia and
Daphne. I trembled, and with an effort
released myself and left him, going over
to the fire.
Mr. Raymond followed, but did not at
tempt to touch me. Ho took up his
station opposite me on tho rug, and
leaning his arm on the mantel said:
"Possibly I was too severe with her;
but, as you say, she needs a strong hand.
She must not be allowed to harm little
Daphne, mnet she?" ,
"On no account," 1 replied quiclciy.
"Since that night I havo watched and
guarded the child constantly."'
"Smco what night?" he asked care
lessly.
I hesitated, l was conscious tnac ne
was trying to draw me out. Should I
tell him? He knew of the closed gate;
he knew of Portia's visit to the swamp;
why should ho not know of this? I
studied his face before speaking. Candor
and honesty verb written there. He
might "be severJj, hut lie was just. Yes, I
would tell him.
I then as briefly as possible recited the
story of that night. When I spoke of
the knife she carried, and which she held
so long as if in invocation toward the
moon, he gave a perceptible start. And
when I repeated the conversation with
old Jezebel at tho gate he was again vis
ibly affected. Once he ground his teeth
and stamped his foot in rage, and more
than once the strong white fingers
clinched as if they ached to throttle
somebody.
Then, growing more confidential, I
told him of my first night in tho house
and of Portia's stealthy survey of mo
through the window; tho experience in
the arbor; her anger when I tried the
I wonld have followed him to the
ends of the earth had he so bidden me.
I put my hand in his.
"I will go," I said;
At nightfall the rain ceased, but the
sky was black and overcast. I shudder
ed as X drew back the. curtains and look
ed out and thought of the dense tangles ,
and thickets of the gloomy swamp. How
black, how awful, liow impenetrable,
seemed those dusky recesses I remem
bered! What was I to see to hear on
this wild midnight quest? I scarcely
dared ask myself.
But I resolved there should be no mis
givings, no faint heartedness. I had put
my hand to the plow, and I would not
turn back. To save Portia, Maurice
had said. Ah, yes! if by any sacrifice
of creature comfort I could exorcise the
evil influences surrounding my poor
friend, how gladly would I make that
denial!
But what did it mean? Had Maurice
in anj way discovered that Portia in
tended to pay one of her nocturnal visits
to the swamp? Was it his plan to follow
hr and plead, threaten or command her
to give over forever her association with
the half human devotees of that hellish
cult?
But of what avail were questionings?
I found no answers to the many riddles
puzzling my mind. I trusted Maurice
with the blind, unreasoning trust which
every woman gives to -the man she loves.
For I had acknowledged tho fact to
my lonely heart that I loved this bril
liant, intellectual, masterful man.
Thongh my superior in every way, I yet
liftetl my eyes to him as a weed clings
to the base of a mighty tree. Did he
love me? It seemed absolute folly to
think so, and yet I could not banish the
look in his eyes, the ring in his voice nor
the magnetic pressure of his lips upon
my hands. "Good, little hands," he had
said, looking down on them. And now
as I looked down on them, too, and re
membered his words I was thankful the
had never been stained with evil, and
that though small they wero strong and
could help him on his mission, whatever
it might be.
Portia did not appear at dinner, send
ing down a messago that sho was not
well. I knocked at the door, but she
would not admit ine.
Colonel Marchmont appeared to be
plunged in deeper gloom than ever. He
scarcely noticed Mr. Raymond or my-
"They arc good hands."
closed gate, and at last of that awful
cry iu the night which had welled up
from the interior of Dead Man's swamp.
His face grew tense and white with
suppressed passion, and the veins stood
out on his neck like cords.
"Oh, Portia, Portia!" he cried as I fin
ished, "my noor tortured girl. It is
time for mo to act. Yes, it is time for
me to act."
"Can we save her?" I asked tremu
lously. "Can we?" he said, rousing from the
study in which he was plunged. "Yes,
we will."
Then once more, taking my not too
unwilling hands in his, he said gently
and almost tenderly:
"Little woman, I believo you to be of
tho stuff of which fighters are made.
There must lo a drop of Bunker Hill
blood in your veins. I believe you to be j
loyal, honest and brave. You are cour
ageous? Yes, I know 3'ou are. I want
yon to trust yourself to me, to go
through a terrible experience. To what
end? you will ask. To this: We will
save Portia. Will vou help me?"'
"With all my heart."
"Very well. Say nothing to a soul,
but prepare to go with me at midnight
to Dead Man's Bwamp."
CHAPTER XIV.
A MIDNIGHT MISSION.
I started. To Dead Man's swamp! To
enter that uncanny, mysterious place at
midnight was a prospect which might
well daunt the most courageous of wom
en. What could be Maurice's motive in
visiting that spot? How was Portia to
be benefited by such an adventure?
As if he read my thoughts, Mr. Ray
mond said:
"Yes, little woman, you hesitate. I
expected that, but yon need have no
fear. You will be amply protected, and
I want your assistance and presence. I
need you. Will you come?"
A thrill shot through me at theee
words. I raised my eyes and saw in
his only the kindest, and tenderestex-
"Oh, God:"
self. Daphne only could rouse him from
the lethargy which surrounded and en
veloped him. It was painful to see him
so depressed, so unhappy. When spoken
to, his gaie waudered. and his answers
were incoherent."
"You are not well, dear fellow," said
Manrice as wo left the dining room.
"I cannot sleep. I havo not slept for
two nights," returned the colonel.
"When I close my eyes, I see her as sho
used to be, not as she i3 now oh, God!"
wildly breaking off.
"Listen, Jerinyn," said Maurice in a
low voice. "Your troubles are nearly
at an end. No, do not ask one question
now. Before another day dawns your
doubts, your sorrows, will be dispelled.
All I ask of you is to go to the library
and remain there until I come. Do not
leave the room or house. Wait therefor
me if you wait until daybreak. Do you
promise?"
Colonel Marchmont stared at Ray
mond in a dazed fashion.
"Trust me, Jerinyn," said Maurice,
"and promise me."
"I promise," said the colonel in a
strange voice.
Overhearing this, I marveled more
than ever. Was it possible that Mau
rice intended, after bringing Portia from
her rendezvous with the voodoos, to lead
her into her husband's presence and
oblige her to beg his forgiveness? Igrew
more and more mystified.
The evening dragged away. Daphne
was sent to bed, Sophie receiving or
ders from Maurice, who seemed to have
assumed command of everything, not to
leave tho child for ono moment during
the night.
Eleven o'clock. I sat in the drawing
room waiting for Maurice, as we liad
agreed to meet there. Tho great house
was still. There wero lights in the li
brary, whero the unhappy husband kspt
his vigil. But everywhere else darkness
brooded over the mansion. The silence,
the hour, the nervous expectancy pos
sessing me grew almost unbearable.
"Where is he? Why does he not come?"
I cried to myself.
Suddenly I heard stealthy footsteps in
the hall above, on the stairs, then the
rustle of a woman's dress.
Stepping softly to the drawing room
door, I looked out. A figure wrapped in
black was descending the stairs. It was
Portia. Clinging to the stair rail with
one hand, with the other she was draw
ing a long black lace scarf over her face,
which in the dim light was ghastly and
terrible to see.
Just as she reached the lower stairs a
man stepped quickly out from the cor
ner.of the liall. Maurice!
TO BH ctmiircXD,
pression.
"Come,"
his hand.
he said again, holding omt
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