Like the prisoner in the iron room, who saw the walls slowly but

surely closing in to crush out his life, Preston Cheney saw his

wedding day approaching, and knew that his doom was sealed.

There were many desperate hours, when, had he possessed the slightest

clue to the hiding-place of Berene Dumont, he would have flown to

her, even knowing that he left disgrace and death behind him. He

realised that he now owed a duty to the girl he loved, higher and

more imperative by far than any he owed to his fiancee. But he had

not the means to employ a detective to find Berene; and he was not

sure that, if found, she might not spurn him. He had heard and read

of cases where a woman's love had turned to bitter loathing and

hatred for the man who had not protected her in a moment of weakness.

He could think of no other cause which would lead Berene to disappear

in such a mysterious manner at such a time, and so the days passed

and he married Mabel Lawrence two months after the death of her

mother, and the young couple set forth immediately on extended

foreign travels. Fifteen months later they returned to Beryngford

with their infant daughter Alice. Mrs Cheney was much improved in

health, though still a great sufferer from nervous disorders, a

misfortune which the child seemed to inherit. She would lie and

scream for hours at a time, clenching her small fists and growing

purple in the face, and all efforts of parents, nurses or physicians

to soothe her, served only to further increase her frenzy. She

screamed and beat the air with her thin arms and legs until nature

exhausted itself, then she fell into a heavy slumber and awoke in

good spirits.

These attacks came on frequently in the night, and as they rendered

Mrs Cheney very "nervous," and caused a panic among the nurses, it

devolved upon the unhappy father to endeavour to soothe the violent

child. And while he walked the floor with her or leaned over her

crib, using all his strong mental powers to control these unfortunate

paroxysms, no vision came to him of another child lying cuddled in

her mother's arms in a distant town, a child of wonderful beauty and

angelic nature, born of love, and inheriting love's divine qualities.

A few months before the young couple returned to their native soil,

they received a letter which caused Preston the greatest

astonishment, and Mabel some hours of hysterical weeping. This

letter was written by Judge Lawrence, and announced his marriage to

Baroness Brown. Judge Lawrence had been a widower more than a year

when the Baroness took the book of his heart, in which he supposed

the hand of romance had long ago written "finis," and turning it to

his astonished eyes revealed a whole volume of love's love.




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