When Yorke Towers had belonged to the Arleighs, it was said that the two brothers—Bertram and Wayne—had both loved the same woman. But Bertram had won her, and had brought his bride to the Towers to live. She was young and very beautiful—a golden-haired, blue-eyed fairy full of life and sunshine. But she soon found that her husband was a jealous tyrant. He kept her a virtual prisoner in the gloomy old house, shut out from all society or the company of her own sex. Day after day she pined away, and life lost all charm for her. Then Wayne Arleigh came to the Towers. He had a right there, for it was the ancestral home of the Arleighs. He began at once to try and secretly win the affections of the lovely young wife. He succeeded, and she gave her heart to the traitorous brother. But all the time her husband was watching her with eager, jealous eyes, waiting to convince himself that she was false. The day came when he was convinced beyond a doubt. It was a terrible blow to him, but he said nothing; he only set his teeth together sharply over a muttered oath.
That night he invited his brother to accompany him into the east chamber, and, quite unsuspicious, Wayne followed him thither. Once there, Bertram Arleigh closed the door upon his brother, locking it upon the outside, and went swiftly away. The room was at the farthest extremity of the great house; its one window was secured by an iron grating; no possibility of escape. And there Wayne Arleigh lingered, dying at last a horrible death from slow starvation. And the world outside never knew the truth until upon his death-bed Bertram Arleigh confessed his awful crime.
Violet recalled the old legend now as she glanced from her window across the court-yard to the east chamber. No one ever entered it now. She turned away with a low sigh, and just then her eyes fell upon a letter lying upon the toilet-table. She picked it up in wondering surprise. A sealed letter addressed to herself!
CHAPTER XIX.
A WARNING.
Violet broke the seal of the letter with a strange misgiving in her heart. It was written in a plain though somewhat cramped hand, and ran as follows:
“Dear Miss Arleigh—You and yours have been cruelly wronged. If you would avenge your mother and gain possession of your own rights, visit the east chamber at Yorke Towers and search for certain papers which are said to be concealed there. I can tell you no more than this. I am your friend, though necessity compels me to conceal my identity from you. Be on your guard and act with prudence and caution, and God will help the friendless orphan.
“Your Friend.”
Violet read and reread this strange epistle, her heart full of unpleasant forebodings. It flashed across her mind then, the strange condition of affairs between her mother and Mrs. Yorke. There had been polite intercourse between them as friends and neighbors, but at the same time, under it all there had been something like distrust, a certain ill-concealed jealousy. Violet thought of it all now, and wondered what could be the reason for this condition of affairs.