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When she heard him eall her name
iso pleadingly, the thought that he
jvas suffering roused her from the
IhOck that her first words produced.
Bho endeavored to comfort him, but
per words seemed only to distress
pim the more. He raised his eyes
land lookedsearchingly into hers, now
plied with tears, and said,
L ‘ Irene will you cast me off for
■ ’is
f ‘No, Walter! oh, no! Your breast
[must be my earthly refuge $ your
arms my protection. You
’must believe in the God whom your
mother adores. How can you doubt
His existence? I feel His presence
even now. Do you not feel it in the
awful solemnity of an hour in this
home of the dead V
‘Ah! yes, I feel his curse in the
stings of my soul. If I am not al
ready lost, 1 will try from this sol
emn hour to serve a true God.’
The driver prevented Walter from
expressing other resolutions, as he
came up to remind them it was time
to return to the city. They entered
the carriage and were soon back at
the hotel.
Irene went up to her room, and
soon returned, bringing with her a
book, which Walter noticed but did
not a3k its title.
When on their way to the car
shed, he expressed a desire to hear
from her early—after she reached her
boarding-house. She was pained to
toll him of her promise to her moths
er, and regretted being denied this
pleasure, the more on account of
their long separation. She had pros
raised Annie Lyle (an intimate friend
and classmate) to spend the winter
vacation in Florida, and would not
meet Walter again until the next
summer. But as they parted, she
handed him the book (it was a pock
et-bible) and begged him to trust her
and be patient, till they would meet
again.
CHAP. VII.
The curse of Edward Harcourt fol
io wed Irene from her stately home—
she should suffer because she reject
ed him for Walter; but Walter (as
he resolved) should feel the effect of
a doubly poisoned arrow. lie should
lose Irene —his sister Nora should be
deprived of her innocence and purity.
Oh! how those fierce eyes gloated,
as he contemplated the sin in all its
hideousness, and exulted in the
thought that his consummated de
sign would pour into Walter’s heart
the very dregs of bitterness.
He sought the neighborhood of
Nora’s home, and was disappointed
to find the family all gone. He learn
ed her whereabouts, however, and
determined to pursue his intended
victim. Human nature had been
studied by Edward as a source of
power. He knew that if he could
ever gain possession of the trusting
THE GEORGIA COLLEGIAN.
heart, which looked through Nora’s
dark flashing eyes, no power on earth
could take it from him.
He obtained a situation in a mer
cantile house directly on the way
from Nora’s boarding-house to hor
recitation room; and soon let her
know be was there. His fierce,
gleaming eyes, sought hers daily, as
she passed, and ere long cupid made
her own his power.
Having emissaries to keep him ac
quainted with Walter’s movements,
and hearing of Irene through her
mother, he had every advantage ne
cessary to the execution of his fell
purpose. All through the fall and
winter he restrained his bad habits,
and assumed such a character as won
respect from all who saw only his ou
ter life. In February of the follow
ing year, Edward beard Walter had
loft Augusta, for some unknown
cause, and gone to the West Indies
Two months from that time, he had
an account of Walter’s marriage with
a wealthy island girl, inserted in a
Georgia paper, and sent a copy to
Irene.
When Nora went home to spend
her vacation, she, for the first time,
acknowledged to herself, that her
heart was in the keeping of another.
But haviug much of reserve in hor
nature, she never suffered the name
which thvilled her boing to pass her
lips. She was growing to bo an in
dependent woman, and could call all
her pride to aid her in tearjqg out
the imago of Edward. She thought
it unwbraanly to love him while his
lips were sealed, and she would, she
must call home her heart.
Edward knew if he could awake an
interest, all that remained to be done
was to manifest indifference, and her
heart would be cast at his feet; for
hers was a nature which bowed only
to a master spirit, arid prized only
that which was costly to obtain. He
met her one evening (after her re
turn to school) as she was walking
alone, and asked permission to attend
her home. Her lips did not utter a
word, but Fid ward took encourage
ment from her confusion and walked
at her side. She regained her com
posure in a few moments, and evinc
ed such openness and purity in her
conversation that he was compelled
to acknowledge he was more inte
rested in her, than in any lady he
had ever met. Her gentleness hu
miliated him, and gradually drove
from his heart the dosiro to tarnish
her character. They saw each other
almost every day, and each bocame
interested in the other; but they mu
tually endeavored to conceal the real
love which existed.
Near tho close of the summer, No
ra was going homo to remain, and
the lady with whom she was staying
gave her a party tho night before sbe
would leave. Edward, of course, at-
tended, and he went with a really
heavy heart—for Nora was going
where he woulcLnotbe allowed to see
her. His intercourse with her there,
had partly lifted the scales from his
eyes, and but for the thirst for re
venge, he would have resolved firm
ly to change his wicked course. On
the evening of which we speak, No
ra was constantly surrounded by a
crowd. Edward longed for an op
portunity to see her alone; and he
rejoiced when late in the evening he
saw her leave the room. Following
immediately, he found she had gone
out to breathe the soft air of the In
dian summer. There was a few late
roses in bloom, and she descended
the steps to procure them. As she
broke the stem, her bosom heaved a
deep drawn sigh.
‘ Miss Nora,’ said Edward, meeting
her at the foot of the steps, ‘ I want
to talk to you now and here—may I
be allowed this privilege ?’
She began to pick the flowers to
pieces in nervous agitation.
‘ Will you hear mo ?’ be said again.
A slight bow oxpressoi her assent,
and Edward bogan with flattery
(which is often the beginning of a
courtship) telling her how her charms
bad held him spell-bound, &c. ; and
then in passionate language, how he
loved her, how long and truly ; all
of which would bo disgusting to the
reader.
Os course Nora gave him a favora
ble answer. They were silent for a
moment, and Edward began again—
‘ There is something else I wish to
tell you. I fear your mother and
brother will never consent to our
union. lam your brother’s enemy
can never be anything else—his
proud nature will receivenoexplana
tion of my conduct toward him ; he
has suffered deop wrongs at my hands
and will never forgive. As much as
you love your brother, you love me
better, and the variance between us
will not rob me of you. Our en
gagement then, must not be known
to your most intimate friend. Igo
to Louisiana this fall, and will return
in the summer to claim you.”
After a promise from Nora that
all wouid be held sacred, he overcame
her objections to a secret correspon
dence, and they returned to tho par
lor.
With Edward’s love for Nora thero
was mingled still a desire to humil
iate Walter. Ho had not seen his
cousin since he sent her a paper con
taining an account of Walter’s mar
riage; but his soul exulted in the
thought that she suffered. Herscorn
ful rejection of bis suit had deeply
wounded his pride, and revenge was
sweet. Had Nora seen tho dark
frowns on his knotted brow, and
known the thoughts which coursed
his braiD, she would have shrunk
from him, instead of receiving the
kiss of betrothment.
She returned home, and after tho
first out-burst of joy was succeeded
by quiet, consequent on the retired
habits of her mother, Nora began to
realize how much she loved Edward.
There was no diminution of affection
for her mother. Tho same eagerness
to anticipate the wants of her moth
er was evinced in the woman, as it
characterized the child. But the
quick eye of maternal love detected
the change. Nora would sometimes
wear a sad expression on her face,
and remain silent and thoughtful for
hours; and in answer to her moth
er’s query as to what was the mat
ter, she would invariably say, ‘ Noth
ing.” Her mother, however, knew
there was something troubling tho
mind of her daughter. ‘ Why did her
children withhold from her thoir con
fidence V she would often ask herself.
Walter’s letters from the islands were
business details and written in busi
ness style. Not one word of his in
ner life ever found its v/ay into one
of them. She fancied she could trace
a sadness even in the careless man
ner in which they were written. No
ra wished to tell her mother of hor
engagement, but Edward urged her
not to do it. She often wont to the
Falls, and sat for hours thinking of
him to whom her proud nature had
given the title of master; and some
times reproached herself for thuslov
ing the enemy of her fond, devoted
brother. She often wandered what
were the wrongs of which Edward
spoke; hor brother had never men
tioned anything unpleasant when he
spoke of Edward; so in her roman
tic imagination she thought his words
were only intended to test her affec
tion ; and she resolved to prove her
sincerity by strict compliance with
his wishes.
Tho winter passed away drearily
The commotion which was shaking
the very centre of our political world
had not entered tho homo of Mrs.
Moore. The doors of her dwelling
were closed, and all was quiet and
lonely. One evening, in April, Mrs.
Moore received a letter from Walter,
stating that he would bo at home ve
ry soon. The closing paragraph gave
his reason for coming, and it sent a
pang to her heart:
‘I know, dear mother, that you
think I have been absent a long time,
and ought to spend some time now
with you. But the news from tho
States assures mo there is a fearful
war-storm brewing—one which will
call every Southern roan to engage in
its fury. So, dearest mother, as much
as I love you, I could not remain at
ease with you, while Southern ho
nor was in jeopardy. You will he
pained I know, but your noble Spar
tan heart will stifle that, and you
will secretly exult that }’ou have a
son to give to your country.’