My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester. Alex. McVeigh Miller

all the time she could, she thought of Liane with pity and admiration.

      "There's a lovely girl for you! If she had been rich instead of Miss Roma, I fancy she'd make a better mistress," she murmured, and then the sound of subdued voices came to her ears.

      "There she is at the gate with Mr. Devereaux, sure!" she thought, as she saw two heads together, the man's outside, while the murmur of excited voices came to her ears.

      "I hope they aren't quarreling already! She had trouble enough hooking him, to be sure!" she thought as she went forward noiselessly, perhaps hoping to catch a word.

      She was rewarded by hearing Roma say:

      "I will come outside and talk with you. We must not run the risk of being overheard by any one from the house."

      The gate latch clicked as she stepped outside and joined her companion, a tall, dark man, whom Sophie did not doubt must be Jesse Devereaux.

      She led her companion out toward the high cliff, washed at its base by the surging sea, and Sophie stole after them, thinking curiously:

      "Now, what secret have they got, these two, that no one from the house must overhear, I wonder? It is very strange, indeed, and I'll bet they have a mind to elope, just to make a sensation! These rich folks will do any foolish thing to get their names and pictures in the papers! They think it's fame, but any jailbird can get published in the papers. Well, I'll follow you, my lady, and there's one from the house who will hear your secret in spite of your precautions."

      She crept along after them, so near that if they had turned their heads they must have seen the skulking figure; but neither Roma nor the man looked back, but kept along the edge of the cliff on the narrow path, talking angrily, it seemed to Sophie, though their words were drowned by the roar of the sea, to the great chagrin of the curious maid.

      "But they are certainly quarreling! Ah, now they are stopping! I don't want to interrupt them yet; so I'll hide!" she thought, darting behind a convenient ledge.

      In the clear and brilliant moonlight the two figures faced each other, perilously near to the edge of the cliff, and Sophie, peering at them from her concealment, suddenly saw a terrible thing happen.

      The man had his back to the sea, facing Roma, and both were talking vehemently, it seemed, from their gestures; when all at once the girl thrust out her foot and struck her companion's knee, causing him to lose his balance. The result was inevitable.

      The tall figure lurched backward, swayed an instant, trying to recover itself, toppled over with a shriek of rage, and went over the cliff a hundred feet down into the foaming waters.

       CHAPTER VI.

      AFTER THE CRIME

      Sophie Nutter could hardly believe the evidence of her own startled eyes when she saw the terrible crime of her young mistress.

      She knew that Roma was selfish and cruel, but she had never realized that such depths of wickedness were concealed beneath her beautiful exterior.

      When she saw Roma push the supposed Jesse Devereaux over the face of the cliff to a dreadful death, the hair seemed to rise on her head with horror, and from her lips burst an uncontrollable shriek of dismay and remonstrance, while she tried to spring forward with outstretched arms in a futile impulse to avert the man's awful fate.

      Too late! The writhing, struggling body went hurtling down over the high cliff, and struck the water with a loud thud that dashed the spray high in air. Then Sophie's limbs relaxed beneath her, and she fell in a heap like one paralyzed, behind the ledge of stones, while her terrified shriek went wandering forth on the air of night like a wailing banshee.

      But Roma had shrieked, wildly, too—perhaps in nature's recoil from her own sin—so Sophie's protesting cry lost itself in dismal echoes. Then all grew still save for the voice of the sea and the dash of water churning itself to fury at the foot of the bluff.

      The maid, crouching low in her concealment, heard Roma flying with terror-haunted footsteps from the scene of her awful crime, and muttered distractedly:

      "She has murdered her handsome lover, the beautiful fiend! God in heaven alone knows why! I thought she loved the very ground he trod on!"

      The maid was suffering from severe nervous shock. She sobbed hysterically as she thought of handsome Jesse Devereaux lying drowned at the foot of the cliff, and beaten by the cruel waves that would wash him out to sea when the tide turned, so that Roma's sin would be forever hidden from the sight of men.

      "I will go and inform on her at once! She shall suffer the penalty!" she vowed at first; but when she thought of gentle, loving Mrs. Clarke her resolution wavered.

      "It will kill her to learn of her child's wickedness, the good, gentle lady who has been so kind and generous to me! I do not know what to do! I would like to punish the daughter, and spare the mother, but I cannot do both," she groaned, in a state of miserable indecision.

      It was some time before her trembling limbs permitted her to drag herself from the spot; and when she gained the house and her bed she could not rest. She tossed and groaned, and at length was seized with hysterical spasms, obliging the housemaid to call for assistance.

      In the meantime Roma, far less excited than Sophie, had also retired to her room and flung herself down by the open window to await impatiently the inevitable good-night chat with her mother.

      "I wish she would not come. Her affection grows really tiresome at times," she muttered rebelliously, as she heard the light footsteps outside her door.

      Mrs. Clarke entered and sat down close to her daughter, putting her white hand tenderly on the girl's shoulder.

      "Good girl, to come in when mamma sent for you," she said caressingly, as to a child.

      "You—sent—for—me!" Roma faltered, in surprise.

      "Yes, by Sophie. I feared you would take cold, bareheaded out in the night air."

      "I have not seen Sophie," Roma muttered sullenly, with a downcast face.

      "Why did Jesse leave so soon?" continued the mother curiously.

      "He did not come. I have been walking in the grounds alone."

      "But your papa said, dear–"

      "Yes, I know; papa told you I was waiting for Jesse at the gate, but he never came. He disappointed me!"

      "Why, that is very strange, dear. And you are grieved over it, I see. Your face is pale, and your whole frame trembles under my touch. Do not take it so hard, darling. Of course Jesse was detained. He will come to-morrow."

      "He should have sent me an excuse, mamma!"

      "He must have been prevented. I am sure he would not neglect you purposely. He will explain to-morrow."

      Roma tossed her proud head, with a bitter laugh.

      "I tell you, mamma, I will not brook such negligence. I have broken our engagement."

      "Roma!"

      The girl gave a reckless laugh of wounded pride.

      "Yes; I sent him a note, with his ring, just now, setting him free."

      "You were precipitate, Roma; you should have waited for an explanation."

      "I did not choose to wait!"

      "I fear you will regret it."

      "I do not think it likely."

      Mrs. Clarke gazed at her in sorrowful silence, whose reproach goaded Roma into adding haughtily:

      "I wished to teach Jesse, early, a lesson that I am not to be neglected for anything; that I must be foremost always in his thoughts."

      "But have you not gone too far in giving him this lesson? His thoughts will not belong to you now."

      "He will bring back his ring, and beg me to take it back to-morrow."

      "Are you certain, Roma?"

      "As sure as I am of my life!" with a confident laugh.

      "Well, perhaps you know him better than I do, Roma, but I fancied