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TO-DAYT STORY.

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All Rights Reserved.] TO-DAYT STORY. "EVENING EXPRESS" NEW SERIES. The Priest's Hole. [COMPLETE.] There are two portraits in a bedroom at Crowhurst Manor. Northamptonshire. which the ordinary visitor is not permitted to see. One is that of a beautiful young woman, frank and high-spirited of look, the other re- presents a spare, long-visaged man. comely enough, save that the small, deep-set eyes have a sinister expression which is almost a cast. Both are in elegant costumes of the time of Charles the First, and one picture- frame is labelled "Joyce Arlington"—the other "Piers Martyn." These pictures have a tragic story, which was not told to the end until the personages had been more than a hundred years in the grave—the man murdered by the woman, who died, self-slain, on their bridal night. This is their story. as known to their own generation, the next, and the next. Joyce Arlington, only child and heiress of John Arlington, of the adjoining manor of Shrivesby, loved and was beloved by Manna- duke Betterton. a young Cavalier who fought valiantly for his monarch in the Civil Wars. Her father, an elderly invalid, remained neu- tral in the struggle, not wishing to jeopardise his daughter's future, which he hoped to see united with that of Piers Martyn. his neigh- bour. a shrewd man. who foresaw the victory of the Parliament, and played his cards accordingly. When Cromwell triumphed, and thltCavaliers were across seas or in hiding, Marmaduke Betterton fled, too. it was said. and forgot, in the presence of foreign charmers, the girl who laved him. All was now plain sailing for Martyn. His lands were secured to him; his influence saved Arlington—whose lukewarm inclinations had not been beyond suspicion—from compound- ing for his estates. He pressed his suit. won the father's willing consent, and cajoled the girl to accept him by means known to no one— for her white, drawn face at the altar showed that love. on her side at least, had not entered into the compact. On the wedding night the servants heard their mrstress scream once in an agonised tone, and rushed to the door of the chamber to give help in what they believed to be some sudden and awful accident. But they heard the master's voice speaking calmly—sneeringly and cruelly, Joyce's maid always afterwards declared beneath her breath —so they decided to affect no knowledge of the cry. and stole away. with the exception of a manservant named Clamber, whose curiosity was notoriow. On this occasion his inqnisitiveness was suddenly gratified, for there was a slight scuffle within the room, then a choking cry. and lastly the fall as of a. body on the oaken floor. Clumber called his fellows together again. told his news, and the whole body of servants sought the door once more, and one of the number, more bold than the rest, knocked and asked if aught was the matter. There was no reply, though the knocking was repeated, so the men burst the look and rushed into the room. Piers Martyn lay dead on his pillow with a gaping stab through his throat, and the mis- tress was prone on the floor, a distance a-way, with a dagger planted* in her heart. The deed was plain, but the motive was not. and the plea. of sudden madness raised by John Arlington before the coroner did not save the body of his lovely daughter from a suicide's grave in the cross-ways, with a stake through the white bosom. Piers was buried, with much honour, in the family vault, the broken-hearted parent was soon gathered to his fathers, and the estates passed to distant kin. So much fori the half-told tale: chance and time together completed it. Shrivesby Manor House, an edifice of the Tudor period, fell into decay as the years rolled by, and the owner decided to pull it down, and re-place it with a modern structure on the old site. The act of demolition revealed one condition not uncommon in ancient residences-a priest's hole, or secret hiding-place, behind the great chimney—but there was something within it far from usual even in such lurking-chambers. The body of a man in the costume of a cavalier was seated on a chair beside a small table, on which stood a wooden cup, and near to it were two pieees of paper—one folded and tied with blue ribbon, the other open. The body and much of the dress faded into dust when touched, but the sword, gorget. jewels, and the like remained intact, and proved the body to have been that of Marma- duke Betterton, whom report had adjudged a fugitive and recreant lover. The papers were next examined, and showed that, with care, the writing might yet be deci. phered. so the proprietor put them aside for future scrutiny. The way they had reached the dead man soon became evident, for on caving in the walls a small shoot was discovered communi- eating with a recess behind a stone pilaster on the terrace, contrived so that food or news might be conveyed to an occupant of the chamber without exciting the suspicions of anyone within the house. When the missives were made out the old puzzle pieced itself together, and poor Joyce's act was condoned in the opinions of all true lovers and even more sober judges of her wrongs. It is more than probable that she had hidden her lover in the priest's hole without her father's knowledge, if the letter tied with blue was written by her—and there seems to be no doubt of this, for it was compared with other writing known t obe hers, and proved to be alike in character. Taking "i" for "j," "v" for "u," and "u" for "v," the meaning is not obscure. It ran thus — "My deere Hart,—I haue no joy vnless in thy face, and for thy fredome is now fauor. Peers Martyn hath perfitt knoleg of thyng hyding. I knowe not ho we, but is weil inclyned vnto'us, and wth hys planne will mak thee acquaint*. I praye that grace maye remitt my sin for hyding thee vnknown, but my loue is strongs to serue with unfained hart. This wth al my loue and sprightfspirit).—I." The other letter was more finished in <Sxaracter, suggesting the style of one more familiar with the pen. Doubtless, it was II written by Martyn, and shows plot within plot: "I did inform myself well in things relating to you. and am disposed. to I my great risk, to help you over the water until times be more still. You must drink of the posset I send you this night. It will make you as one dead, and I will have men privily to carry you hither as if fcurt, and soon it can be given out that you are escaped. This from one you did late hear of." The wretch mast have drugged the young cavalier into death, and left his body un- touched in the hiding-place, whilst vowing to the heiress that her lover was safe beyond the seas. As time went on. and no news came, the girl unquestionably believed her Marmaduke to be false, and, doubtless, Martyn was not slow to poison her mind with insidious suggestions and false tales of Betterton's perfidy, until she had given herself away through desperation and what she believed to be her outraged love. Malevolent and beside himself owing to her bearing on the wedding-day, he must have told her the dreadful truth in the scornful, sneer- ing tones described by the maid, and the fren- zied. overwrought bride of a night, victim of the despicable treachery of which he boasted. sent him to his account with his own dagger. Nor did" ner hand falter to drive the weapon home to the heart which beat true at the last to its loyal, loving mate.

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