CHAPTER VI.

COLONEL TRENTE went away with Warde on the day of the lawyer's visit, and did not return until the next day, quite late in the evening.

Roger followed immediately to his master's chamber, and found him seated at the dressing-table, looking so worn and weary that the faithful friend and servant gave a most audible sigh.

"Are you there, Roger? I wish your leal old heart would not quiver under every pang of grief that transfixes mine," he said, regretfully. "Yet I am selfish enough to rejoice in your thorough sympathy."

"Ah, sir, if I might have taken all this trouble on myself," sighed Roger, "and spared you."

"My faithful friend, I must tell you what I have learned to-day. You must read the letter Miss Annette left me, and that strange one she wrote to Warde. It is possible you may understand what she means by saying that my mother promised her she would leave some explanation for me. Sit down in the chair there, Roger. Forget, as I do, that you are my servant, and read the letters. Let me see what you will think of this startling development."

And Malcolm Trente leaned back in his own chair and watched the old servitor, while he adjusted the glasses, which he first carefully polished, upon a broad bandana handkerchief, and then slowly unfolded the letters and read them standing, despite the injunction to the contrary. Not a word was spoken by either until each letter was slowly and carefully mastered. Though Colonel Trente's face bore evidence of excitement and impatience, and Roger's hand presently shook so that the paper rattled audibly. But when the reading was accomplished master and man faced each other with eagerly questioning eyes. "Oh, Colonel! Mr. Malcolm, what do you think?" burst forth Roger.

"Tell me your opinion, Roger," demanded the other, peremptorily.

The old man lifted one hand to sweep away the gray hair dropping down over his forehead, and swallowed twice before he could articulate his answer.

"I am afraid, Mr. Malcolm-I'm desperately afraid that there's something in it."

Colonel Trente groaned.

"Roger, have you ever had such a doubt before-in the years gone, I mean?" he added, hoarsely.

"I can't deny that I did, but I never could find any proof, and I laid it to my dislike of him."

"Your dislike of him? You never told me that, Roger. I might have trusted to your instincts, for I have always said they were something superhuman. When did you

dislike him, Roger?"

handkerchiefs more than once; both of them did, sir. And my lady, when she came back to the phaeton, was very grave and thoughtful- I wondered--"

He stopped abruptly, and rubbed his hand tremulously across his forehead.

"Well, Roger, why did you stop?"

"I thought of something she said, sir. Oh, my old brain! Why can't I think what I answered her ?"

Colonel Trente saw that some perplexed thought was worrying the old man, and waited in silence, though his whole frame quivered beneath his impatience.

"Oh, sir, it's of no use. I can't think," groaned Roger, presently.

"About what, Roger?"

"What I answered her. It flashed across me that she said to me, just before we drove into the avenue, 'Roger, if I wanted to put a paper, or a letter, for your Mr. Malcolm to find-not right away, but to certainly find, by-and-by, what place should I put it in ?'”

"Good Heavens! you think Miss Annette was right; that she wrote something, as she promised, and put it away for me to find? You think my mother went home and wrote something meant for my eye alone?" exclaimed Malcolm Trente.

"I know she went into the library, and was there a long time. I remember that she called me for a glass of wine, and that when I carried it in her eyes were red, and she looked as if she had been crying, and that there was a sealed letter on the table. Yes, sir, I do believe she wrote it for you."

"Her papers are all in the escritoire where she left them. But I was certain that I looked them all through. Bring the escritoire here, Roger. The keys are on my ring. I will look everything carefully over to-night."

"It won't be there, Mr. Malcolm. I am sure it won't. Why can't I think what I told her when she asked that? Stupid dolt that I am! But it will come to me, it must come to me," declared Roger, vehemently.

"But I will look over the escritoire and satisfy myself concerning those papers; that is the least I can do," said Colonel Trente, gravely. "I would rather you should bring it than Jean, if you please, Roger."

Roger started quickly in answer to this appeal, and promptly appeared again, wheeling in the light desk from the adjoining apartment until he had placed it before his master.

"It will take you a long time, Mr. Malcolm, and you are so tired now," he said, deprecatingly. "Couldn't I help you a little ?"

The master looked over to him with a grateful gleam in his melancholy eye.

"Yes, Roger, if you will share my vigil. I think it will help me just to see you here. Only I don't like to deprive

"I couldn't sleep, knowing you were awake here. I'll tell Jean to go to bed, sir; that I can attend to his duties, sir, if you are willing."

"Certainly. Only, Roger, you must be sparing of your strength. Remember, you are twice ten years ahead of me, and we must manage to last each other out. My good fellow, it will be a sorry day for either that sees the other taken away. Your strength offsets my age. We must manage to wear out together, Roger."

"Please God, sir," responded, Roger, fervently.

Then for two hours they were busy over the papers. Every bundle was untied, every envelope carefully opened, but all in vain. Colonel Trente put them all back at last, with a sigh of disappointment.

"I didn't expect it, sir," said Roger. "She put it

tion of happiness and love. Well, well, you have attained | both, and I sit here alone, possessing neither. This life of ours is a curious thing, is it not, Algernon? Now 1 suppose that you will claim that you have made your own way, seized your own triumphs, and that I, sitting passive and spiritless, have deserved to hold empty hands ?" He looked over to his guest with tranquil eyes, half lighted with the listless smile on his lips.

The Honorable Mr. Thornton swept another swift survey, and then answered, promptly:

"Now, Malcolm, old fellow, how can you attribute anything so unkind to me? I do not hold that your hands are empty. You occupy an honorable position, you are the head of a fine old estate, and you fill the position worthily. Heigh ho! how do you know that I do not envy you your freedom from 'carking care,' from the buzz and whirr of the world's turmoil and feverish strife?" "Can that be so ?" retorted the other, lightly. "Why, then, of course, we are quits. Besides, I ought to be satisfied with your success. You know you were always my hero, Algernon. From the time I was your devoted fag at college till I grew up to manhood you were always my admiration and delight."

"I am proud and grateful to remember it, Malcolm," spoke the other, quickly, and his voice was a little husky. "It is odd, now that I look back upon it in a sort of outside way. I see how very odd it is that I was so devoted to you; my love for you was really a sort of womanish weakness," pursued Colonel Trente, musingly. "I did not believe there could be a flaw in your character, nor a selfish element in your affection."

The Honorable Mr. Thornton stirred uneasily in his comfortable easy-chair. He did not enjoy the drift of the conversation.

"How beautiful your estate is looking now, Malcolm! You care for it with the generosity of your character." he remarked.

"Yes," returned the other, gravely, "and why shouldn't I? It is all I have; it takes the place of father and mother, wife and child. Why shouldn't I love my trees, my lawns and meadows ?"

"To be sure. It is most natural and very commendable. Ah! by-the-way," and the fluent member hesitated and stammered, as he had not done since he was a plodding schoolboy, asking himself where should he find a safe and comfortable subject for conversation. "You must allow Maud to see all the beauties of your woods. She is an enthusiast in such things, perhaps because she has been condemned to so much city life."

"I am told she is a great belle and very beautiful," observed Malcolm Trente. "Tell me, Algernon, are not your worldly success, your political triumphs, dust and ashes beside the love of this child, bone of your bone, flesh of your flesh? How many times I have tried to picture to myself what it would be to me to have a child of my own! Algernon, was not that hand pitiless-should it not be accursed-which struck away from me such beautiful hopes ?"

The man addressed felt a sharp stab within, but his smile was self-possessed and bland as he returned:

"My poor Malcolm, you brood over those memories till they are morbid. Surely it lay in your own hands to remedy the lack. It is not even yet too late for-youto marry."

Malcolm Trente lifted his eyes and fixed a quiet but steady look upon him, until, despite his marvelous selfcontrol, those pale-blue eyes of the other wavered and turned aside.

bell he said, in a more animated tone than he had yet used: "Well, to be sure, we have drifted off from present matters. Roger, ask some one to bring in some wine and a tray of refreshments. Mr. Thornton has rode some distance this morning, I judge. And now, Algernon, when may I have the happiness of seeing the ladies here ?" "Early in the week."

And the speaker eagerly accepted the wine, which Roger poured for him before he left the room again. As he filled it again he held it up to the light to admire its sparkling purity, and while his face was thus half concealed from view, he said:

"I was much pained to see Miss Henchman's death in the papers. Poor thing! I am afraid hers was a dreary life. Have you seen anything of her lately, Malcolm?”

I

"No; and it pained me to remember how I had kept away from her, when it was too late to remedy my selfishness. I have not spoken with her for twenty years. have not seen her, except in her carriage, for two years, certainly."

Mr. Thornton's face brightened.

"Perhaps she was thankful to go," he said.

Mine and

"Yes, I dare say," answered Colonel Trente; "it is one of the unsolved problems why. That was a tragic affair, after all, Algernon, though you used to tell me it would pass away and be forgotten by every one. How many spoiled lives can be counted for it, I wonder? Miss Annette's, certainly, and poor Henchman's, too, I am positive, and—well, never mind. If we believe in a watchful Providence, I suppose we must trust that some time the vengeance some one has deserved will fall. Ab, Roger

Thank you; but I promised to see the keeper at twelve, and I have just time to do it. Good-morning." "Good-morning. Come and see the ladies frequently, and make your headquarters here with them."

And again Colonel Trente bowed courteously, but did not come forward with extended hand.

Was it accidental or intentional? The Hon. Algernon Thornton pondered upon this question all the time occupied by his ride back to the little house in Thornton Wood.

And when he dismounted he was no more satisfied than when he set out.

"For he urges our coming to him as guests," he soliloquized, "and he has not seen Miss Annette."

CHAPTER VII.

"I CAN do nothing with the child," said Miss Van Benthuysen to Philip Markham, as she walked into one of the little waiting-rooms of the refreshment-station upon his arm, instead of following her usual custom of having Mitkins bring her up of tea and sandwich into the railway carriage.

"You mean," began Philip, with a half-smile and in an interrogative tone of voice, understanding her well enough by this time to know that she would promptly fill in his blanks, if she were in a loquacious mood.

"That she will not talk to me of her own accord? Ys that is what I mean. I have asked her a score of questions. To the direct ones I get 'Yes' or 'No,' and to the others generally, 'I don't know.' The girl doesn't know

"I

"Perhaps not. But you will allow that this is a very sad time to test her abilities that way," he answered. have my own theory about her. This ungirlish reserve and reticence is not, I imagine, entirely the consequence of the daze of this sudden sorrow. I think it is also the result of habit and her peculiar education. I should not be surprised to learn that she talked very little even with her father. All her enthusiasm seems to have flowered out toward this silent aunt in England."

Miss Van Benthuysen nodded her acknowledgment of his speech, but was just then too busy in arguing with a pretty German girl about the price of a basket of cherries to answer. But as they went back toward the train and their carriage, she said:

"Don't be sulky, young man. Mitkins is a great deal better in the other class, and I like you to talk to. Come in and see if you can have better success than mine with this young Sphinx."

Philip smiled, not without a momentary gratification at his consciousness of having conquered more than Sphinx in thus vanquishing the redoubtable dragon of Miss Van Benthuysen's distrust.

And he entered the carriage, and carefully examined the waiter set in the young girl's lap, saying, playfully: "Have you been obedient, Miss Younge? I must not find a drop of coffee in that cup, nor a crumb of the sandwich."

The wistful blue eyes looked up to his trustfully.

"A young friend?" suggested Philip.

"Poor little Flossy! She could comfort me now, for she loved me."

"Can I not find her for you ?" began Philip, eagerly. "Oh, no! Flossy is dead. I buried her myself, and how hard it was for papa to comfort me! He was a little angry with me for being so grieved at my dog's death. He said I was too old to be such a baby.”

"A dog ?" ejaculated Miss Van Benthuysen, her lip curl

'Oh, my Aunt Anne. I should think so!" exclaimed Miss Younge, a quiver shaking the delicate features out of their apathetic look, while she turned her eyes again toward England's sky, or what she imagined to be the quarter toward which they were journeying.

"Supposing your aunt proves to be a very different person from the one your fancy has created, Miss Younge,' spoke up Miss Van Benthuysen, sharply, “what then ?" "Ah, but she will not-she cannot !" answered the girl, promptly.

"And pray, why not? Come, picture to me what you

66

Then I mustn't scold at finding all the cake untouched," he returned. “Here, garçon," and he thrust the waiter forth to the white-aproned lad waiting for it.

He saw the look of relief breaking over the pale young face as he took his seat; so she was glad to have him remain in the carriage. The next instant he checked the little throb of vanity with the thought.

But who could help it after being shut up with Miss Van Benthuysen and her merciless questioning?

"At the next stopping-place you must get out and take a turn up and down the platform," he added, as the train started off amidst the incessant little tinkle of the electric bell and the rush of an inbound train.

The blue eyes widened, and deepened in tint. "She will be sweet and good and loving." "Pshaw! Come, now, child, that is absurd. Supposing you find her like me? Am I sweet and good and loving?"

But though she laughed the short, sarcastic sound so many knew and dreaded, there came an eager look into the cold, hard eyes.

"If you were my aunt-my own real aunt-you would be to me," was the low but emphatic response.

Miss Van Benthuysen turned hastily to the window, and despite Philip's quickly proffered assistance, occupied herself in lowering the glass, so no one but herself knew of the hard lump which rose up in her throat, and the

"Certainly, if the ladies of my company are very obedient, and obey all my instructions, so that they will be fit for the Channel. You have been on this route before, I imagine ?"

She fell into a profound reverie after that, and left the young people to themselves. But, though her eyes were closed, she had never been further from the desire or thought of sleep.

Philip talked on. It was, indeed, a subtle, if an uncon

"Yes, I often was very happy here. I found such lovely flowers, and sometimes such charming woods," she answered.

"And your father accompanied you always? I suppose he told you a great deal about the flowers-he made you love the beautiful scenery ?"

"He did not go so often with me. He liked to be alone," she returned, and a low sigh accompanied the words.

"But you had a companion, of course-some other girl, no doubt ?" continued Philip, understanding the glint of Miss Van Benthuysen's glassy eye, and gently leading the unconscious girl to reveal a closer glimpse of her strange Bohemian life.

ness induced in him. Miss Van Benthuysen had only been able to obtain the monosyllables, while he had but to give the faintest suggestion and her quick sympathy took the idea and carried it on.

He learned a great deal, during that long afternoon ride, of this simple girl's life and ways; and better still, he saw into a clear, transparent soul, and beheld its beauty and truthfulness.

A strange life, truly. He asked himself again and again if there was ever another girl so educated. There was scarcely anything in art throughout Germany, and France and Italy, with which she did not seem as well acquainted as with her alphabet. Greek and Latin axioms tripped as unconsciously from her tongue as the flippant tricks of fashion or flirtation from the lips of gay young ladies. There was no noted book outside the sciences with whose drift, at least, she was not familiar. She knew all the

But of the conventionalities of society-the social life of