THE LAST APPEARANCE OF FRANCIS HILLISTON.

Unaware of the tragedy which had taken place at Eastbourne, Captain Larcher was in London brooding over his wrongs, and weaving schemes how to avenge himself on Hilliston. His eyes had been opened by Tait with regard to the conduct of that gentleman, and he now saw plainly that he had been Hilliston's dupe for all these years. Indeed, he began to share Tait's opinion that the lawyer was guilty, and was casting about in his own mind how to prove this, when an announcement in the papers informed him of the death of Mrs. Hilliston.

"The smallpox killed her, no doubt," said Tait, when he had expressed his regrets.

"No!" remarked Claude, who had been looking over the general news. "It was a case of suicide."

"Suicide!" exclaimed the hearers, in one breath.

"Yes, according to this paragraph. It appears that in some way or another she became possessed of a bottle of laudanum while the nurse was absent. The woman returned to find her patient dead. Poor Mrs. Hilliston!" added Claude, folding up the paper with a sigh. "How sorry I am to hear this."

"I wonder why she committed suicide?" said Tait meditatively. "She looked too determined a woman to yield to such a weakness."

"No doubt she found out that her husband was guilty of the crime," said Larcher grimly, "and so did not care to live longer with a murderer."

"You are wrong, father," observed Claude, looking up; "it was the knowledge that she had lost her looks which killed her. Depend upon it, she took the poison so as to avoid dragging out her days a scarred and miserable object."

"How do you know that, Claude?" asked his father, with a curious look on his face.

"Because not once, but twice, or thrice, Mrs. Hilliston told me she would kill herself rather than grow old and ugly. The loss of beauty came with the smallpox; and so she has carried out her resolve."

"It will be a blow to Hilliston."

"I don't think so," said Captain Larcher rather cynically. "From what I remember of Louisa Sinclair, the love was all on her side. No doubt he married her when she was Mrs. Derrick purely for her money. No! No! I quite believe the story of Mona Bantry. She was and is the woman of his love. Now the wife is dead he can console himself with the mistress."

"That reminds me," observed Claude suddenly. "What are we to do about Jenny? Is she to be informed that her mother is yet alive?"

Captain Larcher shook his head. "Set your mind at rest on that point," he said with a nod. "I told Mrs. Bezel that Jenny was about to become your wife; that she thinks her parents are dead; and I pointed out that it would be unwise to mar the happiness of the girl by letting her know the truth. Mrs. Bezel agrees with me, and she has consented that things shall remain as they are."

"Does she not want to see Jenny, father?"

"Of course she does. It is only natural, poor soul, but she loves her child sufficiently to avoid casting a shadow on her life. Jenny will never know that Jeringham was her father or that her mother is still alive. She will marry you, Claude, as Miss Kennedy, and know no more of her connection with the matter than she does at present."

"And Denis?"

"Denis has been told. I wrote him two days ago, and I have no doubt he will come up to town to see the last of his wretched sister."

"The last of her?"

"Can you doubt it? Mrs. Bezel has death written on her face."

"Another blow for Hilliston," said Tait, in a rather regretful tone. Villain as he knew the lawyer to be, he could not help feeling sorry for his troubles. Fate had held her hand a long time, but now she was dealing a full measure, and pouring the vials of her wrath on the head of the sinner.

"It will be a heavier blow than the last," said Larcher, in a severe tone, "for there is no doubt Hilliston truly loves Mona."

"I suppose Denis will object to his going near her again."

"It is impossible to say. We must leave that to the man himself."

This conversation took place in Tait's rooms one morning some three weeks after the momentous interview with Mrs. Bezel. It had been Captain Larcher's intention to return at once to Thorston, but he had been dissuaded from this by his son, who thought a few weeks in town would do his father good. There was no doubt on this point, for Captain Larcher brisked up wonderfully in the exhilarating atmosphere of the West End. But for the unexplained mystery of Jeringham's death, he would have been quite happy in the recovered society of his son, and even while the future was still black enjoyed himself in no small degree. It did Claude good to see that his father was at length getting some pleasure out of life, after his years of incessant trouble and wearing anxiety.

The next day Denis, looking older and grayer than ever, came up to see his sister. He saw his master for a few minutes, and then went on to Hampstead.

"I have told Denis how ill she is," explained Captain Larcher, as the man took his departure, "and he has promised to be as lenient as possible toward her wrong-doing. By the way, Hilliston is in town."

"Hilliston!"

"Yes. He came up in the same train as Denis, and had the impudence to speak to him. Asked him where I was, as he wanted to see me."

"To see you, father?" cried Claude, in astonishment. "What for?"

"I think I can guess," interposed Tait quietly, "Hilliston has been stricken by his wife's death, and wants to atone for his sins by confessing the truth. I would not be surprised if he called here this afternoon."

Captain Larcher looked skeptical, but said nothing, and the matter dropped for the time being. As it happened Denis was still ignorant that his sister had been the mistress of the lawyer, else there might have been trouble. He had but a confused idea of Hilliston's connection with the case, and, beyond knowing that he was the owner of the garnet scarfpin, could not conceive that he had been actually present in the garden when the murder was committed. True it was that the scarfpin had been found on the spot where the corpse of Jeringham had lain, but assured by his master that Hilliston was innocent, as Captain Larcher had truly believed these many years, Denis never gave the matter a second thought. Now he would learn the truth from Mrs. Bezel.

Denis only came back in the afternoon, looking much put out. The ruin of his much loved sister by Jeringham had been a great blow to him, but the discovery that she was alive and had been living in sin with Hilliston startled him considerably. He could hardly reply to the questions of his master, but ultimately related that they had parted friends. Mrs. Bezel had told him that the doctor assured her she could not live much longer; and in the shadow of death Denis had freely forgiven her all her sins and follies.

"And, indeed, sir, what else could I do," said Denis, wiping the tears from his eyes, "when I saw the poor thing lying there like a corpse? It's a bitter time she's had of it, these last ten years, in that death-in-life state. Oh yes, captain, I forgave her freely, poor soul!"

"And Hilliston?" asked Larcher inquiringly.

"May his black soul burn," cried Denis, with a scowl. "Were I or he younger I'd leave my mark on him. Mona had a letter from him saying he was calling to see her this evening, but that he had an appointment with you, sir."

"With me, Denis! It is the first I have heard of it. Where is he?"

At this moment, as if in response to his question, the door opened and Tait appeared, looking very disturbed.

"Mr. Hilliston is here, Captain Larcher, and wishes to speak with you."

Claude had entered the room by another door, and, on hearing this, stepped forward looking slightly pale. He slipped his arm within that of his father, as though to protect the elder man. Then they all waited to hear what Captain Larcher had to say. The permission for the interview must come from the man who had been most deeply wronged. He thought for a moment or so with a frown on his face, then sank into a chair with a deep sigh.

"Denis, stand behind me," he said, in a peremptory tone. "Claude, sit down yonder. Now, Mr. Tait, we are ready to see our friend."

Tait anticipated this permission, and was already prepared for it. Without a word he threw open the door, and Hilliston, dressed in deep mourning, entered the room with a paper in his hand. He looked pale and worn, his fresh color was gone, and as he spoke he kept his eyes persistently on the ground. It could be easily seen that the man had received a shock from which he would not easily recover.

"I have called to see you and deliver this," he said, in a low tone, placing the paper he carried on the table. "I do not ask your forgiveness, Larcher, for I do not consider I have done anything to justify your anger against me."

"You could have saved me all these years of anguish by telling me the truth," said Larcher indignantly.

"Perhaps! But it was not to my interest to tell you the truth."

"I don't wonder at that," said Claude bitterly. "You were afraid of the law."

"Perhaps," said Hilliston again. "On the other hand I may not be so guilty as you think me. You will find the truth in that paper."

He pointed toward the table, and the eyes of all immediately turned in that direction, while Hilliston moved toward the door.

"Having fulfilled the promise I made to my dead wife, I now take my leave," he said quietly. "I will never see any of you again, and some day you may learn that you have misjudged me. Good-by."

He opened the door, but before he could pass through Denis sprang forward.

"My sister?" he said, with an indignant look in his eyes.

"I am about to repair the wrong I did her," replied the lawyer gravely. "By to-morrow she will be my wife."