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Updated: June 4, 2025
"It is concerning those old papers, the Chesholm Courier. You understand, and and the lamentable tragedy they chronicle." "Yes?" said Miss Darrell, shutting her lips tight. "It is naturally a deeply painful subject to me.
Lady Helena was there in pale, flowing silks, the bridemaids, a billowy crowd of white-plumaged birds, and the bridegroom, with a face whiter than the white waistcoat, standing waiting for his bride. And there, in surplice, book in hand, stood the rector of Chesholm and his curate, ready to tie the untieable knot.
The women who looked at her from these walls lay stark and stiff in the vaults beneath Chesholm Church, and sooner or later they would lay her stark and stiff with them, and put up a marble tablet recording her age and virtues. She shivered a little and drew a long breath of relief as they emerged into the bright outer day and fresh air once more.
She paused a moment, then replied, still with that wistful glance on his face: "Inez Catheron." "What?" Again he half-started to his feet. "The woman who was my mother's rival and enemy, who made her life wretched, who was concerned in her murder! Whom you aided to escape from Chesholm jail! The woman who, directly or indirectly, is guilty of her death!" "Sir Victor Catheron, how dare you!"
"Here you are, sir," she cries, in shrill newsboy singsong; "the full, true and particular account of the tragedy at Catheron Royals. Sounds like the title of a sensation novel, doesn't it? Here's No. 1 for you I've got on as far as No. 4." Miss Darrell throws aside her work and becomes absorbed in the Chesholm Courier of twenty-three years back.
How yellow were the fields of stubble, how picturesque, gilded in the sunshine, the village of Chesholm looked. How glowing and rosy the faces of the people who flocked out in their holiday best to gaze at the bridal pageant. Was it health and happiness, or soap and water only? wondered the bride. These were her wandering thoughts these alone. They reached the little church.
Now that he had one of them in his power, he was determined to let the world at large, and Chesholm in small see that neither station nor wealth could be shields for crime. She took her place in the prisoner's dock, pale, proud, disdainful. She glanced over the dark sea of threatening faces that thronged the court-room, with calmly haughty eyes outwardly unmoved.
He had not left Chesholm; he was lurking in the neighborhood of the Royals, and she knew it. She knew it. How many times had they met before his wife and the man he abhorred the man who claimed her as his wife. What if she were his wife? What if that plight pledged in the Scotch kirk were binding? She had loved Juan Catheron then. What if she loved him still?
The obnoxious papers were swept out of sight Miss Stuart made desperate efforts at ease of manner, and morning call chit-chat, but every effort fell flat. The spell of the Chesholm Courier was on them all, and was not to be shaken off. It was a relief when the baronet rose to go. "Lady Helena desires best regards to you both she has fallen quite in love with you, Miss Darrell.
So long she stands there, so rigid she looks, so threatening are the eyes that watch her, that Hooper interposes his portly figure between her and them. "Miss Inez," he says, "will you please give your orders? Shall I send for Sir Victor at once, or " "Yes, send for Sir Victor at once." She arouses herself to say it. "And I think you had better send to Chesholm for a doctor and and the police."
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