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2 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.’