A Woman Martyr

								


Produced by Al Haines.

A WOMAN MARTYR

                                   BY

                          ALICE MANGOLD DIEHL



                      AUTHOR OF "PASSION PUPPETS"

                 "THE KNAVE OF HEARTS" "FIRE" ETC. ETC

                     ILLUSTRATIONS BY ADOLF THIEDE

                                 LONDON

                       WARD, LOCK AND CO. LIMITED

                         NEW YORK AND MELBOURNE

                                  1903

                                Contents
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXXI
CHAPTER XXXII
CHAPTER XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIV
CHAPTER XXXV

                               CHAPTER I

A sharp shower pattering on the foliage of the sycamores and elms was
scattering the equestrians in the Row.  Fair girls urged their hacks
into a canter and trotted swiftly homewards.  Other riders, glancing
upwards, and deciding that the clouds had done their worst, drew up
under the trees.  Among these was a slight, graceful girl in a
well-fitting habit with a pale, classic face, and the somewhat Venetian
combination of dark brown eyes and red-gold hair.  With a slight wave of
her whip to her groom--who halted obediently under a neighbouring
tree--she reined in her slender-limbed bay mare under a horse-chestnut
tree whose shelter was still undemanded.
There she sat still in her saddle, with a slight frown--biting her
lip--as she asked herself again and again, "Did he see me? Has he ridden
out of the park?"
When she cantered along just as the shower began, she fancied she
recognised an admirer she had believed to be far away, walking his horse
in the same direction as herself.  This was Lord Vansittart--a man who
had several times repeated his offer of marriage--an offer she did not
refuse because he had not stirred her heart--for she loved him, and
passionately--but for other reasons. Although it had caused her bitter
pain, she had at least been determined enough in her "No" to send him
off, in dudgeon, to seek forgetfulness in other climes.
And now he had appeared again!
Her first feeling had been dismay, mingled with involuntary ecstacy
which startled her. Then came a wild, almost uncontrollable impulse just
to speak to him--to touch his hand, to look into those love laden eyes
once more--only once more!
She gazed furtively here and there, divided between the hope and fear
that her longing would be sated--she would meet him. Riders passed and