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Updated: June 27, 2025
Here again she paused, overcome with the consciousness of great pain. If there was gloom in the silence of a week, what would a whole life's silence be? Something whispered that even in this world it would be very bitter to part with Harold Gwynne. "You are not painting, Miss Rothesay; you are thinking," suddenly cried Lyle Derwent. Olive started almost with a sense of shame.
"Before I came here," repeated Lyle dreamily, laying down the picture and preparing to go, "that is a sort of blank for the most part. It seems as though this hateful life had obliterated everything before it; the early years of my life seem buried out of sight." "Try to resurrect them," said Jack, adding, "Keep your eyes and ears open, and let me know results. Had I not better go home with you?"
On the afternoon of the next day, Houston returned to the house a little earlier than usual, having finished his work for the day at the mines and mills, and as he with Miss Gladden and Lyle, sat in the little porch, they were joined a few moments later by Van Dorn. In low tones the plans for the evening were discussed.
Journalist and humorist, b. in London, wrote many theatrical pieces, and a few novels, of which the best is Falkner Lyle, others being Leyton Hall, and Loved at Last. He also wrote stories for children, lectured and gave public readings, and contributed to various periodicals. He is best known as one of the founders and, from 1843 until his death, the ed. of Punch.
After Miss Gladden and Lyle had gone up-stairs, they sat for some time talking over the events of the last few days, and anticipating the coming of Rutherford and his brother on the morrow. Many were Miss Gladden's surmises regarding the stranger, and Lyle then learned for the first time that he was an intimate friend of Houston's.
"You lie, traitor!" was his frantic reply "you lie in that, as you lie in all you have said to me. Your life is a lie!" "Did I not speak my thoughts when I called you mad," said Menteith, indignantly, "your own life were a brief one. In what do you charge me with deceiving you?" "You told me," answered M'Aulay, "that you would not marry Annot Lyle! False traitor! she now waits you at the altar."
Then I sat down on a slender fallen birch while Lyle and the rest went back to the wagon for some provisions they had brought. It was evident that we could not get home for supper. It was a still afternoon, and the sound of the creek rang across the shadowy birches with an almost startling distinctness. That end of the line had, however, nearly reached the verge of the prairie.
Cameron, and realized at once that their secret was known; then, as he hastily left the house, she heard a few words of bitter hatred which would have no special meaning to his wife, but which Lyle, knowing what Houston and his friends had been anticipating for the last few days, readily understood.
Under the shelter of a few boards, temporarily erected, he found the ghastly remains of his companion and director in crime. Shivering and trembling with fear, he crept up the road till within sight of the house, arriving just in time to see Houston, whom he supposed crushed and buried within the mine, presenting Lyle to Mr. Cameron.
"That," answered Lyle, in a low tone, "is Jack; he is a miner, and he is also a gentleman." Several days had elapsed since the eastern party, accompanied by Mr. Blaisdell and Mr. Rivers, had returned to the city, and, as yet, nothing had been learned of their decision regarding the mine.
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