A bitter reckoning;

by Mrs. E. Burke Collins

Hilda flounced angrily away, and went over to where Leonard was standing pale and stern.

“The whole affair is shrouded in mystery,” she said in a low tone. “It is only clear that Violet and Captain Venners were together a little while before the alarm, and now they are both gone. That is all that I can discover. You had better go over to town, Leonard, and make inquiries.”

But Leonard shook his head.

“If she has gone away with Captain Venners, I have no right to interfere,” he returned, coldly; “such interference on my part would be absurd. If it is really true—that dreadful surmise of yours, Hilda—she will probably become the wife of this man at once and return to The Oaks. But why, in Heaven’s name, should she have chosen to take such a strange course, she who could have married as she pleased? I do not understand it at all, and it is that which makes me doubt appearances. But we have not yet searched the whole house. Go at once, Hilda, and see if you can find her in her room, while I search the rest of the building.”

Somewhat sullenly, Hilda obeyed. No, Violet was not in her own room or any other. Leonard procured a lamp and went swiftly, silently through every room in the unused portion of the great, old-fashioned mansion, ending at last with a visit to the east chamber. There was nothing to be found, no trace, no clew; only as Leonard retraced his footsteps down the long, narrow passage which led from the east chamber his eyes fell upon a small object which lay upon the dusty floor. He stooped and picked up a gentleman’s handkerchief of fine soft cambric; in one corner was an elaborately embroidered letter W.

“W—for Will,” he muttered, harshly; and Leonard Yorke’s jealous heart gave a fierce mad bound, and then stood still at this corroboration of his unpleasant fears.

In truth, the handkerchief belonged to Gilbert Warrington, and the initial was intended for the first letter of his last name; but, of course, Leonard knew nothing of Warrington and his visits to Yorke Towers, consequently, he could not suspect anything even near the truth.

Mrs. Yorke was now restored to a rational state once more, but quite unable to converse, so nothing could be learned from her, though in response to Leonard’s eager questions in regard to Violet, she would shake her head mournfully and look very sad.

At last, in the early dawn, Leonard Yorke rode away from Yorke Towers, his mind made up, in spite of pride, to ride over to the town and make inquiries. But first he rode to The Oaks, and astonished and terrified the servants there by asking for Miss Violet. No, indeed, she had not been home; they one and all agreed upon that point. So, after his fruitless search there, Leonard went on to the town. Here he found food for reflection. Yes, Miss Arleigh had been in town late the night before, accompanied by a tall, dark gentleman, with a military air, and they had taken the midnight train for New Orleans.

The station agent, who was an old acquaintance of the Arleighs, had wondered at the late trip, but had concluded that she had important business which had called her to New Orleans at that late hour.