Gray, and wished
to be buried as such. The lady promised; the girl gave her these
articles, and the lady kept her word, and brought the message. There
is the bundle," in a choking voice, "and here is the card. That is
all. Good-by, John Arthur; be happy, if you can. And may God's curse
fall upon all who drove her to her doom!"

She gathered her shawl about her shoulders and, casting a meaning
glance at Lucian Davlin, passed from the room and the house.

John Arthur sat with eyes riveted upon the card before him. After a
time he turned, and placing it in Davlin's hand, signed to him to read
it, and hurriedly left the room.

The hand that had first stricken the young life, placed the evidence
that the end had come in the hand that had completed what the first
began!

Something of this Lucian Davlin felt, hardened as he was, for he knew,
without waiting for the proof, that the true name of the girl who died
in the hospital was familiar to them all.

"Read!" ejaculated Cora, impatiently, "or give it to me."

Lucian's eyes had scanned the card, and tossing it across to her, he
pushed back his chair and walked to the window. Cora read for the
benefit of her bewildered sister-in-law:

Madeline Payne, at St. Mary's Hospital, under name of Martha
Gray, died--brain fever--no friends but nurse.

[Illustration: "May God's curse fall upon all who drove her to her
doom."--page 134.]

On the opposite side of the card was pencilled the full address of old
Hagar, and this was all. Scant information, but it was enough.

Cora pounced upon the bundle and opened it. It contained a little
purse; a few trinkets, which any of the servants could identify as
belonging to Madeline; the cloak she had worn the evening of her
flight; and a pocket-handkerchief with her name embroidered in the
corner.

Satisfaction beamed in the face Cora turned toward Lucian, and away
from Miss Arthur. She was mindful of the proprieties, however, and
turning her eyes back upon the lady opposite, she pressed a dainty
handkerchief to her countenance, and murmured plaintively:

"How very, very shocking, and sad! Poor Mr. Arthur is quite overcome,
and no wonder--that poor, sweet, young girl."

Across Lucian's averted face flitted a smile of sarcasm. How little
she knew of the truth, this fair hypocrite, and how unlikely she was
ever to know now. If Madeline were dead, of what avail was any effort
to break from the olden thraldom--for this is wh