"KATHLEEN HAS MYSTERIOUSLY DISAPPEARED."

Ralph Chainey waited in cruel suspense for an answer to the appealing letter he had sent to Kathleen.

But long days passed and no letter came from his heart's love. Then he saw the announcement in a morning paper that she had gone away with her uncle to visit her Southern relatives.

"Cruel girl! she has gone without a word or sign. She hates me indeed, and will never forgive my boyhood's folly," he groaned, despairingly.

The first shock of pain and disappointment was so great that he could scarcely bear it. He thought vaguely of suicide, wondered which would be the easier way out of life—the dagger, the bullet, poison, or the river. Shakespeare's words came to him:

He got up suddenly and shook himself with fierce self-scorn.

"God forgive me for these wild thoughts!" he cried. "No, I can not be such a coward! He is a coward who takes his own life because he can not bear its ills. I must remember that I have a dear little mother to live for, even though the hope of love and happiness be gone forever."

But life was cruel. He longed to get away somewhere—far away from the place where everything breathed of her, his cruel, beautiful love, and he decided that as soon as he secured his divorce he would go abroad and seek forgetfulness in constant travel.

Meanwhile, a sorrowful little note came to him from Alpine, praying him to forget her folly, or at least to keep it secret.

"I should die of shame if I believed any one knew but you," she wrote. "But you are so good and great, you can forgive me. Perhaps things like that have happened to you before. I should not wonder. Then do not exclude me from your friendship, I pray you. Forget that one mad moment, and think kindly of me as you did before.

"Your true friend,

"Alpine."

With the letter was a little perfumed sheet on which were written some sweet, sad verses that touched his heart:

"THE FAREWELL.

Ralph read the verses penned in Alpine's hand with deep emotion, but it was not of her, it was of another he thought. The sweet, sorrowful strain seemed to express his feelings toward his lost Kathleen.

"Lost to me forever!" he sighed, bitterly. "Teddy Darrell, the boyish flirt, who roves from one beauty to another, like a butterfly from flower to flower, will win and wear the peerless rose, beautiful Kathleen. He is not worthy of her, for he has frittered his heart away in a score of passions, while mine has aye been true to her since first we met."

He could not help hating the fortunate Teddy because he had won Kathleen; and Teddy, who was a versatile youth, envied him, in his turn, his genius and his fame, and was fired with the desire of becoming a great actor. He was always dabbling at some new fad; but Mrs. Stone, who understood him thoroughly, declared that Teddy would never accomplish anything great unless he should lose his fortune and have to work for his living.

It was lonesome for Teddy the first few days after Kathleen went away, and he was fain to console himself with some of his old sweethearts. While pursuing this diversion with the usual alacrity of a young man whose sweetheart is away, he met a new girl who proved "quite a bonanza," as he confided to Mrs. Stone.

"Saw her at Maude Sylvester's. By the way, Maude's novel, 'A Blinding Passion,' is having quite a success, don't you know? Well, as I was saying, this girl, Mittie Poindexter, is a real daisy, and suits me down to the ground—talks about going on the stage."

"Kathleen would be jealous if she could hear how you run on!" his cousin exclaimed, warningly.

"Not a bit!" he replied, his frank brow clouding with vexation. "To tell you the truth, Carrie, I don't believe she loves me in the least; it's only gratitude that made her promise to be mine. Only think, now, Carrie: she has been gone three days, and not one line to me, although I've written her two letters a day. Why, don't you know, that week I went to New York I began a letter to her as soon as the train started, and, by Jove! I mailed it at the first station. I'm ashamed to think of all the spoony letters I wrote that girl in one week, and—only one little note in return for all!"

Mrs. Stone could not help laughing at his half-injured air.

"Well, never mind. You have a special talent for letter-writing, you know, and Kathleen detests writing; she told me so. That accounts for her failure to write oftener," she began, soothingly; but just then the door-bell rang a resounding peal, and she started up in dismay.

"What a deafening ring! Maybe that's the postman now. No, it is too early for him. What is it, Mary? Oh, a telegram! Open it, please, Teddy. Those things always startle us women folks so."

His handsome face paled to an ashen hue, and his lips trembled as he read.

It was a telegram from Richmond, and contained these startling words:

"Ask Mr. Darrell to join me here at once, if possible. Kathleen has mysteriously disappeared under circumstances that hint of foul play.

"Benjamin Carew."

"Kathleen gone! Oh, Heaven! my little darling!" groaned the young man, forgetting all about his new fancy in real grief and dismay.

Mrs. Stone burst into tears, and for a few minutes one could not comfort the other.

But women are more quick-witted than men, and Mrs. Stone, who knew nothing about Ivan Belmont and the diamonds, quickly leaped to a conclusion.

"Those asylum people—the fools!—have captured her again, and carried her off to their old prison!" she exclaimed, brightening and wiping away her tears. "Cheer up, Teddy. No harm can happen your little sweetheart, except another detention at the lunatic asylum, and you and her uncle can soon have her out when you find out exactly where the place is situated."

Her idea was so plausible that Teddy brightened up under its influence and prepared to take leave.

"I must go on the first train," he said, as he kissed his cousin good-bye after the affectionate way he affected with all his female relatives who had the slightest claim to good looks.

The news spread rapidly, and Helen Fox, arriving the next day from Europe, was shocked at the calamity that had overtaken her friend. The news that Kathleen lived had thrilled her with joy, and hastened her return from abroad.

That was not all the news that shocked her, for she soon became acquainted with Ralph Chainey's pathetic story.

Helen was a frank, far-seeing girl, but she could not understand the strange turn matters had taken during her absence. The next day after her return she told her brother George to bring Ralph Chainey home to luncheon.

"I have been dying to see you ever since I got back," she said to him, frankly, her blue eyes beaming with the kindness of her heart. "Now tell me everything!"

Luncheon was over, and they were alone in the cozy library together. Helen looked sympathetically at the unhappy young man, remembering how, such a little time ago, she had plotted in her loving fashion to bring about a match between him and her bonny Kathleen. He comprehended her sympathy, and opened his full heart to her with all its pain and anguish.