The Morning Herald

marble face. He did not see Langhetti's
As he spoke he looked down upon her
countenance. Had he done so he would
have wondered.
For Langhetti's eyes
seemed to seek to pierce the very soul of
Despard. His face became transformed.
Its usual serenity vanished; and there was
eager wonder, intense and anxious curiosity-an endeavor to see if there was not
some deep meaning underlying Despard's
words. But Despard showed no emotion.
He was conscious of no deep meaning. He
merely murmured to himself as he looked
down upon the unconscious face:
"My sick sister-my sister Beatrice."
Langhetti said not a word, but sat in
silence, absorbed in one intense and wondering gaze. Despard seemed to dwell
upon this idea, fondly and tenderly.
"She is not one of that brood," said he.
after a pause. "It is in name only that
she belongs to them."
"They are fiends and she is an angel,"
said Langhetti.
"Heaven has sent her to us; we must
preserve her forever."
"If she lives," said Langhetti, "she must
never go back."
"Go back!" cried Despard.
"Better far
for her to die,"
"I myself would die rather than give her
up."
"And I, too. But we will not. I will
adopt her. Yes, she shall cast away the
link that binds her to these accursed ones
-her vile name. I will adopt her. She
shall have my name--she shall be my sister. She shall be Beatrice Despard.
And surely," continued Despard, looking
tenderly down, "surely, of all the Despard race there was never one so beautiful
and so pure as she."
Langhetti did not say a word, but looked
at Despard and the one whom he thus
called his adopted sister with an emotion
which he could not control. Tears started
to his eyes; yet over his brow there came
something which is not generally associated with tears-a lofty, exultant expression, an air of joy and peace.
"Your sister," said Despard, "shall nurse
her back to health. She will do it
for your sake, Langhetti-or rather from
her own noble and generous instincts. In
Thornton Grange she will, perhaps, find
some alleviation for the sorrows which she
may have endured. Our care shall be
around her, and we can all labor together
for her future welfare."
They at length reached the inn of which
they had spoken, and Beatrice was tenderly
lifted out and carried up stairs. She was
mentioned as the sister of the Rev. Mr.
Despard. of Holby, who was bringing her
back from the sea-side. whither she had
gone for her health. Unfortunately, she
had been too weak for the journey.
The people of the inn showed the kindest attention and the warmest sympathy.
A doctor was sent for. who lived at a village two miles farther on.
Beatrice recovered from her faint, but
remained unconscious. The doctor considered that her brain was affected. He
shook his head solemnly over it, as doctors
always do when they have nothing in particular to say. Both Langhetti and Despard knew more about her case than he
did.
They saw that rest was the one thing
needed. But rest could be better attained
in Holby than here: and besides, there was
the danger of pursuit. It was necessary to
safety. It was necessary to remove her ;
and that, too, without delay. A close carriage procured without much difficulty,
and the patient was deposited therein.
A slow journey brought them by easy
stages to Holby. Beatrice remained unconscious. A nurse was procured, who
traveled with her. The condition of Beatrice was the same which she described in
her diary. Great grief and extraordinary
suffering and excitement had overtasked
the brain, and it had given way. So Despard and Langhetti conjectured.
At last they reached Holby. They
proceeded at once to Thornton Grange.
"What is this ?" cried Mrs. Thornton,
who had heard nothing from them, and
ran out upon the piazza to meet as she saw
them coming.
"I have found Bice," said Langhetti,
"and have brought her here."
"Where is she?"
"There," said Langhetti. "I give her
to your care—it is for you to give her back
to me."
CHAPTER XXXIV.
ON THE TRACK.
Beatrice's disappearance was known at
Brandon Hall on the following day. The
servants first made the discovery. They
found her absent from her room, and no
one had seen her about the house. It was
an unusual thing for her to be out of the
house early in the day, and of late for
many months she had scarcely ever left
her room, so that now her absence at once
excited suspicion. The news was communicated from one to another among the servants. Afraid of Potts, they did not dare
to tell him, but first sought to find her
by themselves. They called Mrs. Compton,
and the fear which perpetually possessed
the mind of this poor, timid creature now
rose to a positive frenzy of anxiety and
dread. She told all that she knew, and
that was that she had seen her the evening
before as usual, and had left her at ten
o'clock,
No satisfaction therefore could be gained
from her. The servants tried to find traces
of her. but were unable. At length toward
evening, on Potts's return from the bank,
the news was communicated to him.
The rage of Potts need not be described here. That one who had twice defied should now escape him entirely. He
organized all his servants into bands and
they scoured the grounds till darkness put
an end to these operations.
That evening Potts and his two companions dined in moody silence, only conversing by fits and starts.
"I don't think she's killed herself." said
Potts, in reply to an observation of Clark.
"She's got stuff enough in her to do it, but
I don't believe she has. She's playing a
deeper game. I only wish we could fish
up her dead body out of some pond ; it
would quiet matters down very considerably."
"If she's got off she's taken with her
some secrets that won't do us any good,"
remarked John.
"The devil of it is," said Potts, "we
don't know how much she does know. She
must know a precious lot, or she never
would have dared to say what she did."
"But how could she get out of the park?"
said Clark. "That wall is too high to
climb over, and the gates are all locked."
"It's my opinion," exclaimed John,
"that she's in the grounds yet."
Potts shook his head.
"After what she told me it's my belief
she can do any thing. Why, didn't she
tell us of crimes that were committed before she was born ? I begin to feel shaky,
and it is the girl that has made me so."
Potts rose to his feet, plunged his hands
deep into his pockets, and walked up and
down. The others sat in gloomy silence.
"Could that Hong Kong nurse of hers
have told her any thing?" asked John.
"She didn't know anything to tell."
"Mrs. Compton must have blown, then."
"Mrs. Compton didn't know. I tell you
there is not one human being living that
knows what she told us besides ourselves
and her. How the devil she picked it up
I don't know."
[TO BE CONTINUED.]