"But you need me, Aunt Katharine, and I should be utterly unworthy of my dear Alden's love if I could fail you in your time of trouble. Besides, I think Alden, also, will go back with you to Wendover."

"Heaven bless you both! You are the solace of my sad old age," said the widow, earnestly.

Emma ran out, and soon returned prepared for her sudden night ride.

Then she took her poor aunt's arm within her own and supported her as they walked down-stairs together.

In the hall below they met Alden Lytton, also prepared for the journey.

He did not seem at all surprised to see Emma in her hat and _paletot_.

He understood her too well for that. He merely inquired if the ladies were both quite ready. And being answered in the affirmative, he took them out and put them into the carriage, that was immediately started at a rate that astonished the usually steady-going horses.

The journey was made almost in silence. Mrs. Fanning wept quietly behind her pocket-handkerchief, and Alden and Emma sat with their hands clasped in each other's in mute sympathy.

It was some time after midnight when the carriage entered Wendover and drew up before the old Reindeer Hotel.

Lights about the house at that hour showed that something very unusual was transpiring within.

Hezekiah Greenfield himself came out to meet the party from Blue Cliffs.

With much gravity he greeted them, and to Mrs. Fanning's agonized inquiries about her daughter, he answered:

"I can't well tell you how she is, ma'am. But I will call Sukey, and she will take you to her."

He then conducted them into the parlor and went out in search of his wife.

Very soon good Mrs. Greenfield came waddling in.

Mrs. Fanning arose and hurried to meet her, eagerly inquiring:

"How is my child? How is she now? Does she still live?"

"Yes, ma'am, she is alive, and when she sent for you she was still in her right senses; but now she is wandering, poor girl, and imagines herself still to be living at Peerch P'int," answered the weeping woman, as she took the poor mother's hand to lead her to her daughter.

She led her to a s.p.a.cious upper chamber, dimly lighted by a single taper, where on a white bed lay extended the form of the dying girl.

"Ivy, my darling! My darling Ivy, do you know me?" tenderly whispered the poor mother, taking her erring daughter's wasted hand and gazing into the fading face, nothing but love and sorrow and forgiveness in her heart.

"Is that you, mamma? Is it near morning? I'm so glad!" said the dying girl, panting as she spoke. "Oh, I've had such a dreadful dream, mamma--such a long, dreadful dream! I dreamed of doing such horrible and wicked things--that I never could have done in my waking hours. I have lived long years in last night's dreadful dream. I am glad it is morning. Kiss me, mamma."

These were her last words, panted forth with her last breath. The mother's kiss fell upon "unanswering clay."

Katharine Fanning was borne in a fainting condition from the death-bed of her daughter and conveyed to another chamber, where she received the most sympathetic and affectionate ministrations from Emma and Alden Lytton.

But it was not until Alden and Emma saw the face of that sinful child of pa.s.sion in her coffin that they knew Ivy Fanning and Mary Grey to be one and the same person.

Her remains were laid in the family vault at Blue Cliffs, where, before many weeks had pa.s.sed, the body of her brokenhearted mother was laid beside them.

Craven Kyte was never clearly certain whether he was himself a widower or a bachelor. But in either character he was free. And the first use he made of his freedom was to go to White Perch Point and propose to the brave little maiden of the light-house, who was his last love, as she had been his first.

And soon he made her his wife, and brought her and her aged relative away from their bleak home and dangerous duties and settled them in a pretty rural cottage within easy walking distance of his own thriving place of business--the fashionable bazaar of "Bastiennello & Kyte."

The two young brides, Laura and Electra, were taken to Europe by their husbands, and reached Paris in time to be present at the great World's Fair. And before they returned Victor Hartman's story was published to the world, and his fame was fully vindicated.

THE END.

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HURST & CO., _Publishers_,

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Southworth Books

All by E. D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH

A charming novelist, whose writings are brimful of action. Mrs.

Southworth is the magnet around which other novelists centre.

We publish twenty-seven of her best works. The t.i.tles are:

Allworth Abbey.

Beautiful Fiend, A.

Bride's Fate, The.

Bride of Llewellyn.

Capitola, the Madcap.

Changed Brides.

Cruel as the Grave.

Curse of Clifton, The.

Deserted Wife.