The noise awoke Mrs. Morris, who came down trembling and white with fear, and at the same moment Miss Elsworth entered the door.
“Bessie, Bessie,” she said, and her clasped hands and amazed look betrayed the deep emotion she felt. “What is it, my poor girl?”
She sprang forward, and raising Bessie’s head, she leaned against the bed for support, and with a voice full of agony, she said:
“Oh, God help us! Mrs. Morris, they are both dead.”
“Oh, Charley, my boy! I can’t look at you; ah, my beautiful boy, why did you come here to be killed in this way?”
Thus ended the lives of the betrayed and the betrayer—the beautiful, innocent, confiding Bessie, and the false, deceitful, selfish man of the world. They laid them side by side and at their heads a modest stone marked “Charles” and “Bessie,” and none who had heard of the sad, sad story of wrong and revenge could look upon their graves with tearless eyes.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
SOLVING THE PROBLEM.
It was a lovely afternoon in midsummer. Scott Wilmer entered the cemetery and wended his way slowly toward his father’s grave. As he neared the spot, with noiseless steps, he noticed a female leaning against the tall white monument that marked his father’s resting place. As she raised her head he saw that there were tears on the heavy lashes, and a sorrowful look on the lovely face.