A TERRIBLE SECRET.

A Novel.

BY

MAY AGNES FLEMING,

CHRISTIAN REID,

AUTHOR OF

"VALERIE AYLMER," ETC.,

AS A

TOKEN OF ADMIRATION AND ESTEEM,

THIS

STORY IS DEDICATED.

MAY AGNES FLEMING.

BROOKLYN,

September, 1874.

CONTENTS.

     I.—Bride and Bridegroom Elect
    II.—Wife and Heir
   III.—How Lady Catheron came Home
    IV.—"I'll not Believe but Desdemona's Honest"
     V.—In the Twilight
    VI.—In the Moonlight
   VII.—In the Nursery
  VIII.—In the Darkness
    IX.—From the "Chesholm Courier"
     X.—From the "Chesholm Courier"—Continued
    XI.—"Ring out your Bells! Let Mourning Shows be Spread!"
   XII.—The first Ending of the Tragedy

PART II.

     I.—Miss Darrell
    II.—A Night in the Snow
   III.—Trixy's Party
    IV.—"Under the Gaslight"
     V.—Old Copies of the "Courier"
    VI.—One Moonlight Night
   VII.—Short and Sentimental
  VIII.—In Two Boats
    IX.—Alas for Trix
     X.—How Trix took it
    XI.—How Lady Helena took it
   XII.—On St. Partridge Day
  XIII.—How Charley took it
   XIV.—To-morrow
    XV.—Lady Helena's Ball
   XVI.—"O My Cousin Shallow-hearted!"
  XVII.—"Forever and Ever"
XVIII.—The Summons
   XIX.—At Poplar Lodge
    XX.—How the Wedding-day Began
   XXI.—How the Wedding-day Ended
  XXII.—The Day After
XXIII.—The Second Ending of the Tragedy

PART III.

     I.—At Madame Mirebeau's, Oxford Street
    II.—Edith
   III.—How they Met
    IV.—How they Parted
     V.—The Telling of the Secret
    VI.—The last Ending of the Tragedy
   VII.—Two Years After
  VIII.—Forgiven or—Forgotten?
    IX.—Saying Good-by
     X.—The Second Bridal
    XI.—The Night
   XII.—The Morning

CHAPTER I.

BRIDE AND BRIDEGROOM ELECT.

Firelight falling on soft velvet carpet, where white lily buds trailalong azure ground, on chairs of white-polished wood that glitterslike ivory, with puffy of seats of blue satin; on blue and giltpanelled walls; on a wonderfully carved oaken ceiling; on sweepingdraperies of blue satin and white lace; on half a dozen lovelypictures; on an open piano; and last of all, on the handsome, angryface of a girl who stands before it—Inez Catheron.

The month is August—the day the 29th—Miss Catheron has good reasonto remember it to the last day of her life. But, whether the Augustsun blazes, or the January winds howl, the great rooms of CatheronRoyals are ever chilly. So on the white-tiled hearth of the bluedrawing-room this summer evening a coal fire flickers and falls, andthe mistress of Catheron Royals stands before it, an angry flushburning deep red on either dusk cheek, an angry frown contracting herstraight black brows.

The mistress of Catheron Royals,—the biggest, oldest, queerest,grandest place in all sunny Cheshire,—this slim, dark girl ofninetee

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