The Three Brides

those two spirits must have been entwined, since these long years had never broken that subtle link of sympathy which had once bound them.

Sir Harry's face, dreary, sunken, and terrified, was thrust over the balusters, as he called, 'Don't hinder him, Lena, she asks for him every moment;' and as they came on, he caught Julius's hand, saying, 'Soothe her, soothe her-'tis the only chance. If she could but sleep!'

There lay Camilla Tyrrell, beautiful still, but more than ever like the weird tragic head with snake-wreathed brows, in the wasted contour of her regular features and the flush on her hollow cheeks, while her eyes burned with a strange fire that almost choked back Julius's salutation of peace, even while he breathed it, for might not the Son of Peace be with some there?

The eager glance seemed to dart at him. 'Julius Charnock!' she cried, 'come!' and as he would have said some word about her health, she cut him short: 'Never mind that; I must speak while my brain serves. After that be the priest. He is dead!'

'My brother? Yes.'

'The only one I ever loved! There's no sin nor scandal in saying so now. His wife is better? It will never kill her.'

'She does not know.'

'No? There was nothing to make her. He could not give her his heart, try as he would. Why did he turn the unchangeable to hate! hate! hate!'

'Lady Tyrrell, you did not send for me to hear what ought not to be said at all?'

'Don't fly off,' she said. 'I had really something to say. It was not wholly hate, Julius; I really tried to teach his little idiot of a wife to win him at last. I meant it to turn out well, and nothing could, with that mother there.'

'I must leave you, Lady Tyrrell, if you will not control yourself.'

'Don't be hard on me, Julius,' and she looked up with a glance of better days. 'You idolize her, like all the rest of you; but she chilled me and repelled me, and turned me to bitterness, when I was young and he might have led me. Her power and his idolatry made me jealous, and what I did in a fit of petulance was so fastened on that I could not draw back. Why did not he wait a little longer to encumber himself with that girl! No-that wasn't what I had to say- it's all over now. It is the other thing. How is Frank?'

'Very ill indeed; but quieter just now.'

'Then there shall not be another wreck like ours. Lena, are you here? You saw that Frank had let Constance Strangeways win your pebble. It was because I showed him the one Beatrice bought, and he thought it yours. Yes, I saw nothing else for it. What was to become of the property if you threw yourself away, and on her son?' she added, with the malignant look. 'Whether he knew of this little vow of yours, I can't tell, but he had lost his head and did for himself. It was for your good and papa's; but I shall not be here to guide the clue, so you must go your own way and be happy in it, if she will let you. Father, do you hear? Don't think to please me by hindering the course of true love; and you, Julius, tell Frank he was 'a dull Moor.' I liked the boy, I was sorry for him; but he ought to have known his token better;-and there was the estate to be saved.'

'Estates weigh little now!'

'Clerical! I suppose now is the time for it? You were all precision at Compton. It would kill me; I can't live with Mrs. Poynsett. No, no, Tom, I can't have old Raymond quizzed; I'll get him out of it when the leading-strings are cut. What right has she- ?'

The delirium had returned. Julius's voice kept her still for a few moments, but she broke out afresh at his first pause, and murmurs fell thick and fast from her tongue, mixing the names of her brother and Raymond with railings at Mrs. Poynsett for slights in the days when the mother was striving to discourage the inclination that resulted in the engagement.

Earnestly did Julius beseech for peace, for repentance for the poor storm-tossed soul; but when the raving grew past control, and the time was coming for his ministrations to the Vicar of Wil'sbro', he was forced to leave her. Poor old Sir Harry would have clung to him as to anything like a support, but Eleonora knew better. 'No, dear papa,' she said, 'he has given us too much of his time already. He must go where he can still help. Poor Camilla cannot attend to him.'

'If she came to herself-'

'Then send for me. I would come instantly. Send to the town-hall any time before twelve, after that to Compton. Send without scruples, Lenore, you have truly the right.'

They did not send, except that a note met him as he returned home, telling him that suffusion of the brain had set in. Camilla Tyrrell did not survive Raymond Poynsett twelve hours.

CHAPTER XXX. Come Back

And are ye sure the news is true? And are ye sure he's weel?-J. THOMPSON

Eleonora Vivian was striving to write her sorrowful announcements in the deepening dusk of that autumn evening, while her father had shut himself up after his vigil to sleep under Victor's care, when a message came that Lady Rosamond Charnock earnestly begged to see her. She stood with a face white and set, looking like a galvanized corpse, as her lips framed the words, 'He is dead!'

'No!' almost screamed Rosamond, snatching her hand. 'No! But no one can save him but you. Come!'

Without a word, Eleonora stepped into her own room, and came back in cloak, hat, and veil.

'Right,' said Rosamond, seizing her arm, and taking her to the pony-carriage at the door, then explaining while driving rapidly: 'He has left off raving ever since his mother has been with him, but he lies-not still but weak, not speaking, only moaning now and then. His throat is so dreadful that it is hard to give him anything, and he takes no notice of what one says, only if his mother takes the spoon. He gets weaker, and Dr. Worth says it is only because there is no impulse to revive him-he is just sinking because he can't be roused. When I heard that, I thought I knew who could.'

Eleonora's lips once moved, but no sound came from them, and Rosamond urged her little pony to its best speed through the two parks from one veiled house to another, fastened it to the garden- door without calling any one, and led her silent companion up the stairs.

Mrs. Poynsett felt a hand on her shoulder, and Rosamond said, 'I have brought our only hope,' and Eleonora stood, looking at the ghastly face. The yellow skin, the inflamed purple lips, the cavernous look of cheeks and eyes, were a fearful sight, and only the feeble incessant groping of the skeleton fingers showed life or action.

'Put this into his hand,' said Rosamond, and Lenore found the pebble token given to her, and obeyed. At the touch, a quivering trembled over face and form, the eyelids lifted, the eyes met hers, there was a catching of the breath, a shudder and convulsive movement. 'He is going,' cried his mother, but Anne started forward with drops of strong stimulant, Rosamond rubbed spirit into his forehead, the struggle lessened, the light flickered back into his brown eyes, his fingers closed on hers. 'Speak to him,' said Mrs. Poynsett. 'Do you see her, Frankie dear?'

'Frank! dear Frank, here I am.'

The eyes gazed with more meaning, the lips moved, but no sound came till Anne had given another drop of the stimulant, and the terrible pain of the swallowing was lessened. Then he looked up, and the words were heard.

'Is it true?'

'It is, my dear boy. It is Lena.'

'Here, Frank,' as still the wistful gaze was unsatisfied; she laid her hands on his, and then he almost smiled and tried to raise it to his cheeks, but he was too weak; and she obeyed the feeble gesture, and stroked the wasted face, while a look of content came over it, the eyes closed, and he slept with his face against her hand, his mother watching beside with ineffable gratitude and dawning hope.

Lenore was forgetting everything in this watching, but in another quarter of an hour Anne was forced again to torture him with her spoon; but life was evidently gaining ground, for though he put it from him at first, he submitted at Lena's gesture and word. She felt the increased warmth and power in his grasp, as he whispered, 'Lena, you are come back,' then felt for the token.

Alas! that she must leave him. They knew she must not stay away from her father; indeed, Rosamond had told no one of her attempt, her forlorn hope. Lena tried to give assurances that she only went because it could not be helped, and the others told him she would return, but still he held her, and murmured, 'Stay.' She could not tear