A Novel, IN ONE VOLUME. BY MRS. FRED. E. PIRKIS. London: REMINGTON AND CO., 5, A RUNDEL S TREET , S TRAND , W.C. 1877. [ All Rights Reserved. ] DEDICATED, WITH ALL LOVE AND ESTEEM, TO MY BROTHER, GEORGE IGNATIUS PIRKIS. I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X XI XII XIII XIV XV X XI XII XIII XIV XV DISAPPEARED FROM HER HOME. “£200 R EWARD . Disappeared from her home, Amy, only daughter of Stephen Warden, Esq., of the High Elms, Harleyford. Age, 17; height, 5ft. Dark hair and eyes, oval face, small nose,

Harleyford was situated about five miles from Dunwich, and Mr. Warden’s house about three from the local railway station. A well-traversed high road led from his estate to the market town—Dunwich. This the young lady had been seen to enter about ten o’clock on the morning of the 14th of August, by some country people, with whom she exchanged greetings. From that moment nothing more had been seen nor heard of her, and it was, as the country people expressed it in their broad Leicestershire dialec

“Were you ever thus in your very young days, Stephen?” Mrs. Warden would sometimes enquire of her husband. And the husband would smile and shake his head, and declare he had never been half so fascinating as his wilful, loving, teasing little daughter, “the music and sunshine of his life,” as he was wont to call her. And now all was changed! The music was hushed, the sunlight had died out. Would the shadows ever be lifted from the home again? Would the quick, light step ever be heard again, and

“I am very grateful to you both,” was Mr. Warden’s greeting, “I know not how to express my thanks; but what can any one do that has not been already done?” “See here, Mr. Warden,” broke in Frank, impetuously, “I don’t care what other people have or have not done, I must do something. I shall go mad if I sit here idle any longer. I have no doubt that detective fellow you had from London did his work superlatively well, but still it is possible he may have left something undone. Let me ride throug

“Both, I fear, sir, are seized,” replied the housekeeper, sadly; “I have sent for Doctor Mills and Doctor Hayward, and two additional nurses from the hospital; but as yet, no one has come. And oh, sir! something else has happened: Lucy Williams has disappeared in some mysterious manner; not a soul has seen her since last night. It seems, indeed,” added the old lady, clasping her hands, while the tears rained from her eyes, “as though a curse had fallen upon the house. Where will it all end! Heav

Thrown as he was daily into close and intimate relations with Mr. and Mrs. Warden, he could not help reflecting on the strangeness of the fact, that neither in appearance, disposition, nor manner, did Amy in the slightest degree resemble either parent. The more closely he observed them, the more the dissimilarity became apparent. The second fact which forced itself upon his notice, related solely to Mrs. Warden. Sincere as her grief for her daughter’s loss undoubtedly was, it soon became apparen

“Ever, with much love, “Your affectionate mother, “G RACE V ARLEY .” Then there followed a long postscript. “Do you remember your old playfellow, Mary Burton? I have her staying with me now (she came over from the Denver’s) and she has grown into one of the sweetest, handsomest girls, I have ever seen. She is just twenty-one, and has come into her mother’s large property at North-over-Fells. She is very anxious to know if you are at all like the Frank of old times, but I tell her a mother’s desc

They brought her in, and laid her on her own dainty little bed. The storm had ceased now; day dawned, the birds carolled and twittered at the casement, and the bright sunshine streamed in through Amy’s rose-coloured curtains, and fell sideways on her pale, grey face. Silent, hopeless, and awe-stricken the father and lover gazed upon their darling; the search is ended now—there she lies in her blue silk dress, all torn and mud-stained; her dark hair unwound and lying round her in long, damp coils

And Frank did pull through. Gradually the fever in his brain subsided, and though weak and helpless as a child, the doctor pronounced him out of danger. But with returning consciousness came back the sense of sorrow and loss, and Mrs. Varley’s heart ached for her son as she saw the look of utter blank misery and despair settle down upon his once bright, happy face. “Get him to talk of his sorrow” had been the doctor’s advice, and gently and gradually his mother had led him on to speak freely of

“It cuts him to the heart even to hear me speak of her, and he must know she is never out of my mind,” thought Lord Hardcastle, as he looked across the library to where Mr. Warden was sitting with an open volume before him, but his eyes dreamily fixed on the window pane—his thoughts evidently far away. “See here, Mr. Warden,” he said suddenly, crossing the room to him, “I may seem impertinent to you in what I am about to ask, but I have a real reason for asking the question. I loved your daughte

To this, Lord Hardcastle sent a brief reply— “S IR ,— “Mr. Warden and myself think you are attaching too much importance to Miss Kempe and her movements, and that it really is not worth while to pursue this matter further. We are hoping for better results from another quarter. “I remain, “Your obedient servant, “H ARDCASTLE .” The second letter was from Frank Varley, written on the eve of his wedding-day, and ran as follows:— “D EAR H ARDCASTLE ,— “I dare say you have but one feeling in your hea

“ A l’Aigle des Montagnes ” was the sign which hung over this quiet little hostelry, and its dedication could not possibly have been better chosen. Perched high in the second belt of rocks which surrounds Le Puy, it seemed incredible, when looked at from the plateau beneath, that aught but eagle’s wings could mount so far. A narrow, winding path, made to admit the “little cars” of the country, with not an inch to spare on either side, led to the inn. To an inexperienced traveller the road seemed

So the time wore slowly away; the afternoon faded into evening, and Mr. Warden retired early to rest, carefully attended by the kind-hearted innkeeper. The next morning rose grey and misty, and Mr. Warden could not repress a feeling of anxiety for his young friend traversing the (to him) unfamiliar mountain paths. What if he had missed his way and had been benighted in some lonely, unfrequented road. What if Isola’s people had proved treacherous, and looking upon him as his (Mr. Warden’s) emissa

“The diamonds she appears to have kept back for a time in case they should be asked for, but in the state of confusion into which your house was thrown, and Mrs. Warden being too ill to interest herself much in the matter, they were not missed; in fact, I believe, the jewel case was not even opened when handed over to Mrs. Warden’s care. “The girl most probably intended to dispose of the diamonds in London, and afterwards to have escaped with her brother to New York, when, as you know, she was s

It was written partly in Cevenol patois , partly in good French, and thus it ran:— “M A M IGNONNE ,— “Hast thou forgotten Isola, thy nurse? Hast thou forgotten the one who rocked thee in her arms to sleep, and led thee over the mountain to gather wild campions to weave garlands and crowns for thy beautiful mother? Dost thou know thou hast a mother living now among those mountains? Has he who shadowed and cursed her young life told thee the story of her suffering and wrong? For twelve long years,

“At length, one evening after I had gone to my own room, utterly worn out with my mother’s excitement and misery, a sudden thought came into my head. ‘Why not gratify her, why not enable her to see the man she so blindly worships?’ Then it flashed across my mind how easily the thing could be done! I had but to assume my mother’s nun’s dress and hood, and no ordinary observer could have told it was not my mother herself. She in my dress would easily be permitted to pass the portress’s lodge, and