The Mark Of Cain

re not wait u

ass, it will be remembered, he could see whatever was happening on whatever part of the earth he chose, and, though absent, was always able to behold the face of his beloved. How o

een aided, indeed, but they would scarcely have been reassured. Yet there was nothing very awful, nor squalid, nor alarming, as they might have expe

ld have been displayed. The testimony of a cloud of witnesses, in the form of phials and medical vessels, proved that she had for some time been an invalid. The pretty dusky red of health would have been seen to have faded from her cheeks, and the fun and daring had died out of her eyes. The c

there against her will, was a remarkably handsome young person, attired plainly as a housekeeper, or upper-servant, The faces of some women appear to have been furnished by Nature, o

er, my dear?" the dar

he beautiful dissatisfied face. "What with peaches and gra

en fo

ied woman continued, as if the invalid

said the dark gentleman, with mockery in his politeness, "b

" the woman repl

extremely pretty trust. An

, and stared out of it with a tremb

ar, tell me for yours

last. "I am sure I am better. I am not ver

erhaps you are tired of peaches and

sty when I waken, or rather when I leave off dream

gentleman, in a pitying voi

rk plain, and a great black horror, a kind of blackness falling in drifts, like black snow in a wind, sweeps softly over me, till I feel mixed in the blackness; and there is always some one watching me, and chasing me

nes, myself. You will oblige me, Mrs. Darling" (he turned to the housekeeper), "by placing them in Miss Burnsi

n walked into the street, where a hansom cab waite

e believe not to recognize, the Hon. Thomas Cranley, whose acquaint

dear. The telegram which followed Maitland's, and in which Cranley used Maitland's name, had entirely deceived Miss Marlett, as we have seen. By the most obvious ruses he had prevented Maitland from following his track to London. His housekeeper had entered the "engaged" carriage at Westbourne Park, and shared, as far as the terminus, the compartment previously occupied by himself and Margaret alone. Between Westbourne

s, in the minds of most who see him, "the man in the bearskin coat," or "the man in the jack-boots," or "the man with the white hat." His identity is practically merged in that of the coat, or the boots, or the hat; and when he slips out of them, he see

poor Shields, an irremediable condition. The father, so he declared, had spoken to him often and anxiously about Margaret, and with dislike and distrust about Maitland. According to Mr. Cranley, Shield's chief desire in life had been to see Margaret entirely free from Maitland's guardians

the drunkard. Now the accident had arrived, she was fain to be ignorant of the manner of it. Her new guardian, again, was obviously a gentleman; he treated her with perfect politeness and respect, and, from the evening of the day when she left school, she had been in the charge of that apparently correct chaperon, the handsome housekeeper with the disapproving countenance. Mr. Cranley had even given up to her his own rooms in Victoria Square, and had lodged elsewhere; his exact address Margaret did not know. The only rea

ith her father's friend, an older man by far, and therefore a more acceptable guardian than Maitland. She was fulfilling her father'

ation (without which the race could not have endured for a week) had remained absolutely unmodified, as it is modified in the rest of us, by thousands of years of inherited social experience. Cran-ley's temper, in every juncture, was precisely that of the first human being who ever found himself and other human beings struggling in a flood for a floating log that will

s one of transporting the girl to the Continent, where, under the pretence that a suitable situation of some kind had been found for her, he would so arrange that England should never see her more, and that her place among honest women should be

e mirror (kindly provided for that purpose in well-appointed hansoms)-"after

" an inconvenient person, one devilish scheme had flashed across a not uninstru

or will be an uncommonly clever man, and particularly well read

substance, which it may be as well not to name, and got what he wanted in a small phial, marked poison. Mr. Cranley then called a third cab, gave the direction of a surgical-instrument maker's (also eminent), and amused his leisure during the drive in removing the label from the bottle. At

m to stuff his pocket-handkerchief into the keyhole, and to lay the hearth-rug across the considerable chink which, as is usual, admitted a healthy draught under the bottom of the d

the others on a large dessert plate in the dining-room cupboard. One orange he

then tenderly polished their coats with a portion of the skin of the fruit he had eaten. That portion of the skin he consumed to dust in the fire; and, observing that a strong odor remained in the room, he deliberately turned on the unlighted gas for a few minutes. After this he opened the window, sealed his own seal in red wax on paper a great many times, finally burning the collection, and lit a large c

and, without opening it,

e, you may

ed, and the hou

ry accents. (He had told Margaret that she had bett

her? Why are you keeping her in this house? What devil's brew ha

eeper. As to the 'devil's brew' which you indicate in a style worthy rather of the ages of Faith and of Alchemy, than of an epoch of positive science, did you never taste sherry and sealing-wax? If you did not

hite face seemed to glitter with

ornamental epithets, which, in moments when she was

she wakens, she may be feverish, will you kindly carry these oranges and leave them on a plate by her bedside? They are Jaffa orang

man, thinking of the fruit; to which he replied by offer

ving the door unshut, so that her master distinctly heard her o

umn of the outer sheet "Still advertising for him," he said to himself; and he then turned to the sporting news. His calmness was extraordinary, but natural in him; for t

he said. "Time she wakened-a

mfortable enough; for he chose a large and heavy fauteuil, took it up in his arms, and began to carry it out In the passage, just opposite Margaret's chamber, he stumbled so heavi

himself, "and she is not dead-yet. She is certain

to a kind of criminal remorse. Now anxiety for the issue made him wish the act undone, or frustrated; now he asked himself if there were no more certain and less perilous way. So inte

has blessed him for his kindness in bringing it-she has tasted the orange

able system, the grains of sand sliding from the grasp, the poison gnawing and burning the tissues-each seems to move in his inevitable path, obedient to an unrelenting will. Innocence, youth, beauty-that will spares them not. The rock falls at its hour, whoever is und

ed actually to be present in Margaret's chamber, watching every movement and hearing every heart-beat of the girl he had doomed, his

curity and chances of escapin

ange-juice, than any other way. And then there's all the horrid fuss afterward. Even if there is not an inquest-as, of course, there won't be-they'll ask who the girl is, what the devil sh

ly at his cold fingers, and b

ot strange in his experience. He sunk back in his chair, with his hands all thrilling and pricking to the finger-tips. He took a large silver flask from his pocket,

t then he was a fool, and boasted beforehand, and bungled it infernally. Still, it's not absolutely safe: the other plan I thought of first was better. By gad! I wish I could be sure she had not taken the stuff

ped against hope, out of his very poltroonery, that murder had not been done. At the girl's door he waited and listened, his face horribly agitated and shining wet. All was silent. His hear

l visitor, had anyone seen him. She did not see him; she was asleep, sound asleep; in the dirty brown twilight of a London winter day, he could make out that much. He did not dare draw close enough to observe her face minutely, or bend down and listen for her breath. And the oranges! Eagerly he looked at them. There were only five of them. Surely-

ught so wildly on his nerves, excited to the utmost degree as they were, that

ice Darling, in bonnet and cloak, and with a face flushe

own alarm, and tried to dissemble it. He sat down

, Alice, will you kindly br

ow?" she snarled. "Why did you send m

ew Arnold so justly views with high esteem-into wider and nobler channels. Disdain the merely personal; accept the calm facts of

of passion she lifted a knife that lay on the dining-room table and made for him. But this time, being prepared, he was not alarmed; nay, he seemed to take leasure in the succes

h to bring them. I am your master, you know, in every sense of the word; and you are aware that

n the escritoire, and was addressed to him. It was a rather peculiar letter to look at, or rather the envelope was peculiar; for, though bordered

rld did she find me out? Well, she is indeed a friend that stic

other of Mr. Cranley, and bore

he thought to himself, "that has not heard all about

ors of the device on the envelope

nglish B

day. "My dear

g, or yachting, you

ou from anyone-no

e anything else. Do

here, and tell

heard," h

little difficulty.

ly blue ribbon-a c

gaged to a plumber

end me another? I

of your wicked j

e also want a gir

ep the accounts. Su

er you can ad

very

. John D

ut these two infernal women off on her, and Alice will soon do for the girl, if she once gets at the drink. She's dangero