Mrs. Alex. McVeigh Miller

“ I am your daughter Queenie!" cried the actress, in a voice of passionate pleading, lifting her streaming eyes to her mother's face.
"Begone! You are no child of mine!" was the angry reply, as Mrs. Lyle drew away from her, disdainful of her very touch. "Oh, go! go! You have stolen Sydney's husband; you have caused her death; you cannot deceive me also. Will not someone take her away?"
Queenie stood still, with clasped hands and streaming eyes, listening to her mother's cruel words. Then she crossed over to Lady Valentine, who stood within the clasp of her husband's arms weeping bitterly. ”

“ Again that soft, low sigh went trembling through the room.
This time some strange instinct drew his eyes to the window, and he sprang to his feet with a smothered cry. A sweet, white face, framed in golden hair, was pressed against the window-pane looking at him, with dark eyes full of love and sorrow—the beautiful face of his absent daughter, Queenie.
"She has come home—my darling!" he cried joyfully, and rushed to the window and threw up the sash.
But in that moment the lovely young face had disappeared.
"Queenie, my love—where are you?" he called. "Do not tease your poor old papa!" ”

“ Sydney dropped her eyes and turned crimson.
"Oh, Lawrence," she said, "she is not my sister, but she is my rival. I know all that passed last night, I know that she has won your heart from me."
"It was never yours, Sydney," he answered firmly. "I married you because you loved me, and were unhappy without me; but you never held my heart. I have never loved but one woman on earth. I told you that before I made you my wife."
The listener's heart gave one great bound of joy. He loved her still—he had never loved but her. ”

“ I love you, and I want your love in return. But, proud girl, beware how you change my love into hate."
"Mr. Colville," said she, "it is cruel, it is unmanly thus to persecute a defenseless girl. I beseech you, restore me to my home and my father. Think of my poor father, my suffering sister. There are other women who will love you, women who have not given away their hearts as I have done."
"There is but one woman on earth to me, Lily, and I have sworn to make her my own. You cannot move me by all you say—as well try to topple a mountain from its base as to move me from my firm will. ”

“ When the low "amen" vibrated on the night air, she looked up and said moaningly:
"Have you forgiven me, too, Lawrence?"
He bent and kissed the poor, pale, quivering lips.
"All is forgiven, Sydney," he answered, gently.
"Then call the physician," she moaned. "Let him draw this cruel steel from—my breast! I cannot—bear it—any longer!"
But the physician recoiled as Captain Ernscliffe had done when she told him what she wished him to do.
"I should feel like a murderer," he gasped. "You could not live a minute after the blade was drawn out of your breast." ”

“ No marriage had excited so much interest for years as that of the lovely girl whose romantic story was known far and wide.
"She is beautiful as a dream," they whispered, when the first bride passed over the flower-strewn pavement to the church steps. "And the sister is equally lovely," they cried, rapturously, when the trembling Ada followed after her.
"God bless them both!" whispered a good woman who had a prominent seat in the church.
It was Mrs. Mason, the kind soul whom Lily had not forgotten when her wedding cards were issued to her friends. ”

“ She rejoiced that Lily was dead, and that the shameful stigma of suicide lay upon her memory; though she was the daily witness of the bereaved family's sorrow, though she saw that Lancelot Darling was aged as if ten years had passed over his head in the past few weeks, still she felt no grief for her sin, and kept on her resolute way, swearing in her secret soul to win the young man whom she passionately adored, and whose wealth and position made him the most eligible parti in the whole city. Love and ambition alike spurred her on to the attainment of her cherished object. ”

“ The widow stepped a few paces back out of reach of her victim, and stood regarding her with a smile of wicked triumph, while the witch, amid her dying groans, hurled the most awful maledictions upon her destroyer.
"Ha, ha!" laughed Mrs. Vance, enjoying her revenge to the utmost limit; "did you think you could play with fire and not be burned? Did you think I would destroy a beautiful and valued life like that of Lily Lawrence, yet suffer two worn-out old hulks to stand between me and my cherished purpose? Ha, ha! you realize your folly, now!" ”

“ With a shudder Lancelot read the inscription on the silver plate:
"Lily Lawrence.
"Aged eighteen."
Mr. Lawrence drew out the silver screws and removed the lid.
"My God!" he cried, as he gazed within.
The costly casket was empty. The white satin cushioning that love had devised to make the bed of death a soft one, held the impress of her form, the pillow was lightly dented where her golden head had lain, but the cold form that rested there yesterday with white hands folded over the quiet heart, with pale lips shut over the woful secret of her death, that loved form was gone from their gaze. ”

“ Lyle and Miss Lyle, and Lady Valentine are all in Europe, ma'am," he answered, wondering what made the bright, pretty face turn so pale as he gave her the information.
"And Mr. Lyle—you can tell me where I can find him?" she inquired, eagerly.
The polite servant looked as if he thought the girl was out of her mind. After a blank stare into her lovely, eager face, he said, surprisedly:
"Mr. Lyle—why, ma'am—he's dead, you know!"
If the man had struck her the cruelest blow in the face she could not have recoiled more suddenly. ”

“ Queenie looked at Sydney's tearful eyes and flushed cheeks, and her tender little heart melted at once. She crossed over and put her round, white arms about Sydney's stately neck.
"Sister, do forgive me," she said, sweetly. "I did not mean a word of it. Your manners are simply perfection, and I only wish that mine were half as polished!"
"You should cultivate yourself," answered Sydney, coldly, as she put the clinging arms away from her neck, "I am ashamed of your hoydenish manners."
"I will try to cultivate myself, Sydney, indeed I will," answered Queenie, innocently. ”

“ The wicked murderess stooped to see if her guilty work was done, then escaped down the ladder of vines that climbed up to the window. The jury said that the poor girl committed suicide; but we know better—do we not, beautiful lady?"
"You are a fiend," cried Mrs. Vance, from the chair where she had sunk down, still clutching the heavy purse of gold coins in her cold hand. "You lie! no one murdered her—she died by her own hand."
"Lady, I shall not tell my secret to any one but you," said Haidee, with a low and fiend-like laugh. ”

“ Her dark eyes were staring upward with a look of pain and horror in their starry depths, her face was ashen white, her lips quivered with faint, anguished moans, and her white, jeweled hands worked convulsively at the hilt of the dagger whose deadly blade was buried in her breast.
She looked up at the manager as he bent over her. A gleam of recognition came into her eyes.
"I am dying," she said, in a faint, gasping voice. "Let someone go into the theater and bring Captain Ernscliffe! Don't let anyone else know I am here! Queenie—I mean—Madame De Lisle—must not know! Let the play go on." ”

“ Before the farmer could speak, Queenie sprang to his side, and laid her delicate white hand, all sparkling with jewels, on his coarse sleeve, lifting her blue eyes pleadingly to his face.
"Oh! sir," she said, "you think me mad, but for Heaven's sake be warned by me! Do not suffer your pretty, simple girl to stray into the snare this man and woman are setting for her. If you give your consent you will rue it in dust and ashes, when you see her innocence betrayed and her virtue lost."
Leon Vinton glared at her fiercely as the farmer hesitated. ”

“ Lyle's voice, hoarse, trembling, agonized, broke strangely upon the utter stillness:
"Queenie, where have you been all this long, dreadful year?"
Queenie turned her face and buried it in the pillow, and a low sob of utter agony answered him only.
Again he repeated the question, this time more firmly and resolutely.
"Oh! papa, must I tell you?" she moaned, without lifting her face from its friendly refuge.
"Yes, Queenie, I must have a full explanation of your mysterious absence, for I fear it covers wrong or guilt. Secrecy is seldom without sin," he answered, in a firm but heart-wrung voice. ”

“ Only consent to reward my fidelity with your dear hand, and you shall see them all again."
"I cannot," she moaned, faintly; "I am betrothed to another."
"Death has broken the bond," said he; "your lover has torn you from his heart ere this in angry resentment at your supposed suicide. He believes that you loved another and chose death in preference to a loveless marriage with him. Give yourself to me, Lily, and that will confirm his belief."
"Oh, never, never! I do not love you," she cried, vehemently.
"Love would come in time, darling. Gratitude to the savior of your life would create love. ”

“ If a look could have killed, Queenie Ernscliffe would have been stricken dead at her sister's feet.
"You will have to prove a few things before you accomplish your purpose," she retorted.
"I can prove all that is necessary," was the calm reply.
"Can you justify yourself in the matter of that shameful hidden year in your life of which I shall surely inform Captain Ernscliffe?" asked Sydney, malevolently.
"Sydney, forbear," exclaimed the actress, lifting her hand as if to ward off some cruel blow. "I have borne all that I can bear to-night! You must leave me now. ”

“ CHAPTER V.
"You say I have been very ill?" said Lily, looking up into the dark face bending over her.
"Yes, you have been near to death's door; but indeed you must not talk; you will exhaust yourself."
"But I must talk," said the patient, willfully. "Why am I here? This is not my home," glancing round the poor, ill-furnished room. "Where are my father, my sister, my maid? Oh, God!" and a piercing shriek burst from her lips. "I remember everything—the murderous dagger-thrust, the horrid spell that bound me hand and foot and tongue. ”

“ So inspired was she by this brilliant hope, and so strengthened by the warm coffee, that a faint flush came into her cheek, and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement and animation.
"Your breakfast has set you up quite a bit, ma'am," exclaimed Mrs. Thorn, admiringly. "You don't hardly look like the same woman we took up for dead in the road."
"Your kindness has put new life in me, madam," answered Queenie, gratefully. "It is the hope of escape from this man that fills me with joy and lights up my face with gladness." ”

“ Sydney nodded an affirmative answer.
"I was very young and foolish in those days," said Queenie, with a sigh. "I do not suppose that any girl ever lived more silly and romantic than I was. I brooded day and night over the mysterious donor of the fan and flowers. All my secret thoughts were of him. I felt quite sure in my own mind that the handsome man who had looked at me so admiringly in the fancy store was my unknown admirer. I expected daily to meet him somewhere in the haunts of the gay society in which I had become somewhat of a belle. You remember, Sydney?" ”

“ It is Queenie herself! Do the dead come back from the grave? I must see her, speak to her!" exclaimed Captain Ernscliffe, in a passionate undertone, as he sprang up and turned toward the box door.
Lord Valentine, who had watched him attentively, caught him by the arm.
"Ernscliffe, are you mad? We all see the resemblance. It is accidental, of course. What would you do?"
Ernscliffe shook off his grasp roughly.
"Yes, I am mad!" he exclaimed, "for I believe that the dead is alive, and that yonder Juliet is my lost bride, Queenie Lyle!" ”

“ A sneer curled his thin lips as she spoke with an unconscious accent of tenderness on the words "my husband."
"Your husband, as you call him, shall never know that you are not mouldering yonder in Rose Hill Cemetery. You shall never look upon his face again, Queenie Lyle."
"Mrs. Ernscliffe, if you please," she said, drawing her graceful form erect with a defiant dignity.
"Mrs. Ernscliffe, then, if it pleases you better," he answered, mockingly. "Though why you care for the name I do not know. You do not love the man." ”

“ A sudden horrible fear darted into her mind.
"Has the dead come back?" she asked herself. "Oh! no, it cannot be!"
"You will not answer me," she said, wildly. "Oh, Madame De Lisle, be generous! You have lovers by the score; they tell me you have refused to marry a duke. One heart more or less cannot matter to you. You must not take my Lawrence from me! He is my all!"
"Your all!" exclaimed La Reine Blanche, with a curling lip. "Lady, you prate of your love for Lawrence Ernscliffe, you tell me that he is your all! ”

“ Her head fell back helplessly, and the wet and matted locks of gold trailed over the velvet carpet, drenching it with rain-drops. The long, dark lashes lay close upon the marble-white cheeks and no breath fluttered over the pale, parted lips to show that life still dwelt in the frame of the hapless girl.
A cry of agony broke from the lips of the poor father whose fondest affections had been concentrated on the daughter now lying lifeless in his arms.
"Oh, God! oh, God! what fearful mystery is here? Queenie is dead; and oh! those horrible marks upon her throat and brow! ”

“ Lyle took the white hands that were wildly beating the air, and held them firmly in both his own.
"Be calm, Queenie," he said, "and listen to me. There can be no question of cannot between you and me! You have deceived us all and spent a year away from us. You return to us wretched and alone, with the marks of cruel violence upon your person. What are we to think of you, Queenie, if you refuse to explain the mystery? How can we receive you back with a secret, perhaps a shameful one, in your life? I must have your vindication from your own lips, my poor child. ”

“ Mrs. Lyle leaned her head on his shoulder and burst into hysterical weeping.
"Oh! what does it mean?" she moaned, wringing her hands. "Where, oh! where, has Queenie been this past year?"
"My dear, we shall know when she revives, if she ever does. Go now and rest," he answered, pushing her gently from the room.
He went back to his lonely vigil and watched the weary night through by that silent form upon the bed. Now and then he rose and poured a few drops of wine between the pale, unconscious lips and sat down again with his finger upon the fluttering, thread-like pulse. ”

“ Queenie seemed stricken dumb by the words of Captain Ernscliffe. She stared at him speechlessly, her white teeth buried in her crimson lips, her hands clenched tightly together.
"Queenie, you cannot deny it," he went on passionately, seeing that she could not, or would not speak. "Although I thought you dead, although the last time I beheld your sweet face it was under the shadow of the coffin-lid, yet I could swear that the lost bride whom I deemed an angel in Heaven, still walks the earth under the name of Reine De Lisle!" ”

“ Lyle. "After all your father's goodness to you, and your pretense of loving him so well, to think that you would throw away your chance of helping him in his old age. I have no patience with such folly!"
"Papa, you are not angry with me, are you?" asked his daughter, turning her soft, beseeching eyes, now swimming in tears, upon his kind yet troubled face. "I could not marry Captain Ernscliffe, papa, because I do not love him."
"Love," sneered Mrs. Lyle, scornfully. "Love is the last thing to be considered nowadays!" ”

“ Lily came forward and seated herself on the foot of the bed, and set her lamp on the floor.
"Of whom are you speaking?" asked she.
"Of Harold Colville, to be sure," said the poor woman, shuddering as the name writhed over her blanched lips. "Has he married you, too, eh?"
"God forbid," ejaculated her visitor with a strong shiver of disgust. "I am a poor girl whom he is trying to force into a marriage with him. He has stolen me away from my friends and is keeping me locked up here until I consent to be his wife. But I will never, never do so!" she cried, passionately. ”

“ Keep my secret and let me marry Captain Ernscliffe! I need another home—mamma and the girls are so cold and hard to me—I will be a good wife to him—I will indeed! He shall never know."
"Ah, Queenie, if your sin should find you out!" he said.
"It will not, it cannot," she said, with a shudder; "it is buried too deep. And I have prayed—oh, how I have prayed, papa—and God has forgiven me!"
"God has forgiven you, but men would not," he said. ”