Newspaper Page Text
VOL. XIX.
COLUMBUS, GEORGIA, SUNDAY, AUGUST 5, 1877.
NO. 185
SOHO OF A SHIRT.
W ITU MANX APOLOGIES TO HOOD.
With face that was weary and worn,
With eytl ds heavy and red,
Poor Morton sat with a look forlorn,
And doMully scratched his head.
The bottles lay shoot,
The returns weie in the dirt,
And in a voice 'twin a howl and a shout
lie sang this song of a shirt:
Flail! flapl flap 1
While evou the boys do scoff,
And tell me to wash the bloody shirt,
And take the old thing ofT.
Its Oh! for a fight in the South,
With bucketsful cf gore!
Uow I could flourish the shirt again,
And renew the stains once more!
Work! work! work!
Till the brain begins to swim;
I've worked upon that bloody ehTt
Til l my eyes are heavy and dim.
Seam, and gusset and band—
I’ve stcepe l them all in gore.
And tin* bloodier that I made the shirt
The Uoosiers cheered the more.
I stumped the State a!l through
Th • bloody shirt to wave;
lint all my toil and great ado
Could not the “grandson” save.
Despite of Chandler’s cash,
t iling out as free as dirt,
A tiilal wave lies swept the State
And washed the bloody shirt.
It s all well enough to talk,
And say tnat my shirt's played out,
Hut if that old stand-by is lost
What can we talk about?
And so, though the thing don't take,
And rath r seems to hurt;
For one, ! never shall f irsaae
The well-known bloody shirt.
With face that was weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy ajd red,
Poor Morton sat, with a look forlorn,
And d ilefully scratched his head,
llis features oft would twitch,
As if from tbo iglits that hurt;
Ku' r-ti 11 with a rolce of dolorous pitch
lie sung his song of a shirt.
I.UVi: IX A COTrAUK.
BY N. P. WILLIS.
They may talk of love in a cottage,
And bowers o trellised vine—
Of nature bewilchingly simple,
And milkmaids half divine;
Th y may talk of the pleasure of Bleeping
In the shade of a spreading tree
And a walk in the field, at morning
Uy tlia side of a footstep free.
l!ut give mo a sly flirtation
By the light of a chandelier—
With music to play in the pauses
And nobody very near;
Or a - eat on a silken sola,
\\ ith a glass of pure old wine,
And piamma too blind to discover
The small white hand in mine.
Vour love in acottige is hungry,
Your vine is a ucst for flies—
Your milkmaid shocks the Uraces,
And simplicity talks of pies!
Y’oit lie down to your shady slumber,
And wake with a fly in your ear.
And your damsel that walks m tlio morning
Is shod like a mountain.er.
True love is at li 'me on a carpet,
And mightily lik e his ea-e—
And true love has an eye f.ra dinner,
Aud starves beneath shady trees.
His w ing is the fan of a lady,
ilis foot's an invisible thing.
And his arrow i- tipp’d with a jewel,
And shot from a silver ttring.
A WORK OF RETRIBUTION.-
BY CHRISTIAN BEID.
[From Appleton’s Journal.]
CHAPTER III.;
Time flies fast in a pleasant country-
house full of gay young people, and Sans-
Souci was one of the pleasantest of
houses, its owners the most charming of
hosts. Wbat with rides and drives, mu
sic, visits, and boating, time flew almost
too fast for some of the inmates—for
those whose stay was limited, for those
who fouud that long rides in green woods
ami voluptuous summer nights among the
rosesjled to results more serious than flirt
ation. The number of matohes which
had been made at Sans-Souoi was a source
of great pride to Mrs. Jennings, who
was a confirmed match-maker. All men of
marriageable age and marriagea-
hie means who fell into her
Lauds she regarded with an eye to matri
mony, and she never failed to offer them
excellent opportunities to exchange the
single for the wedded state.
It was not likely that, nnder these cir
cumstances, she would neglect the inter
ests of the cousin who, in what she felt
to be a truly pathetic condition of loneli
ness, had drifted into her hands. On
the day after his arrival she informed
him. with a significance which waB alto
gether wusted on his obtnseness, that
Mary Herbert was one of the most charm
ing girls in the world (the number of
charming girls that Mrs. Jennings knew
spoke volumes for her belief in her own
sex , and would make the best of wives
for any man who was fortunate enough
to secure her.
To this Thurston cheerfully assented,
though the idea of becoming that happy
benedict did not for a moment occur to
hint; but he did not rebel when he found
himself constantly ia Miss Herbert’s
company during the next few days. She
was a pretty, pleasant, well-bred girl,
who entertained him sufficiently to keep
ennui at bay, and who taught him (the
dullest of pupils) the abstruse science
called croquet.
ILiDg in the same bonse with Miss
taring, and sitting at the same table
with her three times a day, not to speak
of other occasions of meeting, it was im
possible that he could altogether ignore
r presence. In fact, that presence was
tmt one which could readily be ignored.
" hether for good or ill, for pleasure or
P & in, Agatha Loring was a person who un
der all circumstances and at all times,
commanded attention at least. Bitterly
as Thurston hated her, he found his
ghnee following the motions of her
graceful figure; he found his ear attracted
‘ v the full, sweet music of her tones; he
found his eye resting, with a mixture of
Reluctant admiration and repulsion, on
the perfect outlines of her head, with its
dark braids. He could not fail to per
ceive that there was a distinctive charm
about her which marked her out and set
tar apart from other women. What can
We call this charm, which is so fine that
it eludes all analysis in words? Whatever
we call it—personal magnetism, fasoina-
tion or enght else—the fact remains that
too often it is ruthlessly used for purpo-
•as of harm only.
It was impossible for Agatha Loring’s
best friends to deny that she had used it
with a cruel recklessness which some-
times seemed like the wanton mischief
of a child; while dark were the tales her
enemies told of the lives she had wreck"
ed, the hearts she had broken. After the
manner of most women of her class, she
was very capricious in her fancies, and a
man’s best fortune often lay in not pos
sessing interest enough in .her eyes to
make it worth her while to fascinate him.
Let his social rank, wealth, or power, be
wbat it wonld, if he did not possess this
interest, she paid no regard to him. If
on the contrary, she conceived a caprice
in his favor, nothing satisfied her save
his complete subjection.
A fancy of this description she had ta-
ken to Thurston at once, and wben she
saw his deliberate intention to avoid her
—when she read accurately enough the
scarcely-veiled dislike and contempt he
felt for her—pique came to the aid-of ca
price and she determined to bring such a
stout rebel to her feet.
“My dear,” she said one afternoon,
when Mrs. Jennings sought her room da
ring the siesta hoar, “what is the reason
that yonr Egyptian cousin dislikes me so
much?”
“I—really I don’t know what you mean”
answered Mrs. Jennings, surpised and a
little confused. “Why should you im
agine that Colonel Thurston—I suppose it
ia he whom you mean—dislikes you?”
“Hypocrisy is not at all yonr particular
talent, Lncy,” was the quiet response. “I
do not ‘imagine’ that Colonel Thurston
dislikes me—I know it. Do you remem
ber when you introduced him to me? Be
fore we had either of us uttered a word,
his eyes told me what his sentiments to
ward me were. Have I injured him in any
past state of existence, or what is the
reason of his dislike?”
“I suppose he has heard of all your
wicked coquetries, and disapproves of
them—as well he may,” said Mrs. Jen
nings, who had by this time recovered
herself possesssion. “He is a wise man
not to give you a chance to win his heart,
for if he did he would fare no better than
others have done.”
Miss Loring laughed softly.
“We shall see!” she said. “A chal
lenge ia something I could never brook,
and I have taken a fancy to his face and
manner. He seems so frank, so honest,
so brave—I should like him for a friend.”
“A friend!” Mrs. Jennings scornfully
repeated. “Agatha, I am ashamed of
you! Why not call a spade a spade, and
say at once that you want to make a fool
of him?"
“Because that is not what I want. I
am tired of making fools of men—oh you
may raise your hands if you like; I am
tired of all such folly. I don’t say I could
live without it—I don’t say I shall not be
a coquette till I die—but I do say that
sometimes I would like to feel that I had
one hoDest, genuine friend iu the world,
and such a friend this man conld be. I
can see in his face that he would go
through fire and water for any one for
whom he—cared.”
“I think he wonld,” said Mrs. Jen-
nings, “but he will never go through
lire and water for you, and the sooner you
put such ideas oat of your head the bet
ter. He is not the kind of man whom
yon cun fascinate, and as for friendhsip
that, of course, is stuff ! Content your
self with men who belong to your own
world, like Antoine Virien, and let my
Egyptian cousin alone.”
*My dear, do you know that every
word you utter gives me an additional rea
son for overcoming the prejudice that
your Egyptian cousin appears to have
oonceived against me?”
‘Agatha, I think you are the most
heartless girl and the greatest handle of
contradictions I ever knew!” cried Mrs.
Jennings, thoroughly vexed. “If you
will have the truth—though I was asked
not to tell yon—you have alread inflicted
pain enough on Philip Thurston—”
Tap, tap, at the door, and a domestic
summons took Mrs. Jennings away at
once, leaving her sentence unfinished.
Agatha made no effort to detain her;
but after the door closed, she said to her
self:
‘Strange! What possible pain have I
ever inflicted on Philip Thurston? And
she was asked not to tell me. Well I
shall not tempt her to betray his confi
dence, but I will seek information at the
fountain head. ”
Though usually one of the last of the
feminine band to appear, Miss Loring
broke through her habit this afternoon,
and half an hour before the dinner bell
rang she swept lightly down the broad
staircase and paused in the wide, airy
hall below. Everything was silent around
for the masculine as well as the feminine
occupants of the house were still strug
gling with their evening toilets in the
upper regions, and the cool, dusky draw
ing room was entire’y deserted.
So she had thought, at least; until she
entered and crossed half its length. Then
a man’s figure rose from a couch in a bay
window, and advanced toward her. At
first, in the dim obscurity, she did not
recognize him, then her heart gave a leap
and she felt that fate fought for her.
“Ah, Colonel Thurston, yon are like
myself first in the field!” she said. “The
heat is tropical, is it not? But yon have
really found a cool place, I believe.
“My experience in a tropical conntry
has given me a kind of instinct with re
gard to cool places,” Thurston answered.
“If you will take a seat in this bay win
dow, Miss Loring, you will catch a pleas
ant breeze.”
“Thanks: bat I won't deprive you of
yonr lounging-place—in fact, I am sorry
to have disturbed you, for I am on my
wav to the garden. My toilet needs the
finishing touches of some roses, which I
conld not trnst even my maid to gather
for me.”
She looked straight at Thurston with
those limpid, darkly-fringed eyes; which
poor Bertie bad said were “all express
ion,” and to any other man that look
would have been' enough. But this man
received the glance like granite.
“The snn has sank low enongh for you
to find the garden very pleasant now, I
have no doubt,” he answered, standing
qnite still.
Then her lips unclosed in a smile, and
a bright light half amused,half beguiling,
flashed into her eyes.
“And do you mean to let me go unat
tended? I am afraid, Colonel Thnrston,
that Eastern habits have made you forget
our Western code of gallantry.”
“I did not suppose you wonld care for
my attendance,” he replied; “but if I
can be of service, pray command me.”
“Yon can be of service at once, if you
will be so good as to go to Mrs. Jenning’s
sitting room and bring me her garden-
shears. ”
Thnrston went for the shears, and a
moment later, to bis own surprise, he
found himself attending Agatha Loring
as she strolled slowly toward the flower
garden.
Once out in the open air, they found
the waning afternoon more b6antifnl
than they had imagined: for what is love
lier than the close of a royal summer day?
Long, golden light was streaming on rich
green foliage and close-shorn tnrf; the
distant hills were wearing a pearly haze,
soft as a bridal veil; deep shadows
stretched over the land; and unnumbered
sweet odors were wafted to and fro by the
breeze, which came with coolness and
refreshment on its wings.
“This is better than lying behind close
blinds, with a novel in one hand and a
fan in the other,” said Agatha. “Bat
probably our heat seems to you so trifling
after Egypt that I am half ashamed to
complain of it.”
“It does not seem very great,” Thnrs
ton answered; “bat even if it were there
are many pleasant things which one does
not appreciate until one loses them. For
example, I suppose it hardly strikes yon,
Miss Loring, that the greenness which
clothes the land is a marvel and delight?
But it wonld do so if for five years you
had never seen a forest or a valley like
that.” And he pointed to the emerald
expanse below.
“If you can enjoy what appears to us
snob ordinary things, you mast find a great
deal of pleasure in your visit to America.”
“I expected to find a great deal,” he
replied; “but the expectation iu its large
sense has been wholly disappointed,and I
am now forced to lake what ornmbs of
enjoyment I can find.”
She sent a swift side-glanoe at him, and
seeing the dark shadow which had fallen
over his face, interest and cariosity stir
red within her breast.
“Could he have been coming over to
be married, and did he arrive to find him
self jilted?” she thought. “Snch things
often make men women-haters; but he
does not seem to hate some kinds of wo
men! ”
“What a pity!” she said—and the low
tone spoke volumes of sympathy, second
ed by the clear eyes. “Surely, disap
pointment is the saddest thing in life; and
how much of it we have to endure! Even
I have known a great deal, thongh I am
not very old; and now I never expect to
grasp a pleasure in its completeness. I
know there must bea drawback somewhere
—a dash of bitter in all sweetness."
“A drawback—yes,” said Thurston,
coldly, “but that is not a complete and
crashing disappointment, a— But here
we are among the roses, Miss Loring.
Shall I cut your flowers?”
‘If you will be so kind; for I am not
exactly in toilet to venture among thorns
—though it seems selfish to make yon
risk scratching your hands.”
“My hands are not delicate, nor are
they surrounded by lace; but you must
tell me what roses to cut.”
“This way, please. I want the cloth-
of-gold, and yonder are several beautiful
half-opened buds.”
He cut, all the buds indicated; then,
mindful of the tender white hands await
ing them, spent a minute carefully re
moving every thorn from their smooth
green stems. The woman watching him
was a keen observer of human nature,
and she saw at once this little aot was
very characteristic..
“He dislikes me,” she thought. “Ev
ery word that he utters, every look that
he gives me, tells that; but he is never
theless as careful not to leave any thorn
to wound my hand as if—as if he loved
me!”
And in that moment,perhaps,the trage
dy of these two lives was settled—in that
moment a sudden longing for the love
which she felt instictively this man could
bestow rose in Agatha Loring’s breast; in
that moment Philip Thurston’s chances of
happiness this aide of the grave were
utterly lost!
He knew as little of it as any of us
know when the most fateful hoar of our
lives comes. Having removed all the
thorns, he extended the roses, saying:
“I think you will find them harmless
now.”
“You are very kind,” she said, with a
strile; “but your labors are not quite end
ed. I want one more bad—that smaller
one there. Now, tell me what is your
favorite flower?”
“I do not know that I have a favorite
flower,” he answered, clipping the bud
she wanted; “but if I have it is the white
jasmine—simply from its association
with other things.”
“The association of certain memories
with certain flowers is very powerful, is
it not? There are some flowers which
on that account, are hateful to me—bnt
the jasmine is not one of them. I, too,
love it”—and here her voice sank a little
—because it reminds me of my mother,
who used to wear it in her hair—my
pretty mother! so long ago, for I was a
mere child when she died.”
“And I like it,” said Thnrston, forget
ting himself for a moment, and forget
ting what manner of woman this was
whose perilously sweet voice sounded
then so pathetic, “because it oovered one
of the piazzas of my old home, and its
fragrance brings back a thousand memo
ries of my boyhood.”
“It has the same kind of association
for both of ns in that oase—and here is a
hedge overran with it. Cat a few sprays,
Colonel Thnrston, and then we will go
back to the honse.”
Back to the house they went accor
dingly, and when they reentered the
drawing room, they found it still uqocctl.
pied.
“This is fortunate! ” said Agatha. “I
can put the finishing touches to my toil
et before the rest appear, and you shall" ■
give your opinion of the effect.”
She walked to a large mirror, and stood
for a minute or two arranging the flowers
in her hair; after which she fastened a
cluster in front of her dress, and turned,
“Throw open the window,” she said,
“and tell me what you think of my ap
pear an oe.”
Thurston never forgot the picture
which was revealed to him when the win
dow was thrown open and a level flood
of snnshine streamed in, filling the room
with a golden mist. Surrounded by this,
as the old painters snrronnded the figure
of a saint, Agatha stood dressed (as he
knew already) in black—light draperies
of tnlle and lace, with here and there an
artistic touch of amber, the golden roses
which he had cut lying in a cluster where
the corsage revealed the white neck, and
crowning the soft masses of her dark hair.
Involuntarily the self-contained man,
who disliked and despised her, oanght his
breath. It waR a vision of loveliness—
heightened by the accidents of time and
place—snch as in all his life he had nev
er seen before. He felt in every fibre
that this woman was more than beautiful
that she was enchanting; and forgetting
conventionality, and all the roles whioh
govern social intercourse between men
and women, the truth sprang from his
lips:
“My God!” he said. “I can under
stand now how yon have worked such
mischief! ”
The intense passion of his tone was
not lost on the quick ears whioh listen
ed. She advanced eagerly toward him
and paused—so near that he inhaled the
fragrance of the roses which she wore, so
near that he looked straight into the won
derful depths of her eyes.
“Why should you say that?” she asked.
“At least I have never worked mischief
to you.”
“To me—” he began, and stopped ab-
rubtly. No, it was impossible; he conld
not mention Bertie’s name with the face
which had been Bertie’s undoing gazing
into his own. “Pardon me,” he said, af
ter a minute: “my remark was altogether
unjustifiable. I should have said that
your toilet is admirably chosen and does
credit to yonr taste.”
“I am glad yon like it,” she said,
changing her tone as entirely as he had
changed bis. “Now, to repay yon for
yonr exertions in my behalf, l will make
you a bouqaet for your button-hole. See!
I have kept this bud which you cut last
and I will make it np with your favorite
jasmine.”
Which she did. One or two glossy
dark-green leaves, . the delicate golden
rose, and two or three sprays of starry
jasmine—these grouped together made
up the tiny boquet.
“Is it not pretty?” she said, holding it
out between her slender fingers. Bat it
mast be tied together, and where shall I
get a bit of thread? Ah! this will do.”
She lifted her hand, and from a long
dark cnrl which fell on her shonlder,
drew a strand of hair.
“I will excuse you from quoting that
‘beauty draws us with a single hair,’ ” she
said, with a laugh, as she wound this
about the stems of the flowers, “but you
must understand that it is my own hair—
not one bought from a hair-dresser—
which I have given yon. Here is your
bonqnet. Shall I pin it in your button
hole?”
“If you will be so kind,” said Thurs
ton, who began to comprehend her object
very clearly now. “She wants to play
the same game with me which she has al
ready played with Bertie,” he thought.
“Let her try—one failure, perhaps, will
teach her a lesson.”
Despite this penetration, however, he
conld not keep bis pnlses from beating
more quickly when she drew near and
slipped the bonqnet into his bntton hole
with a dexterity evidently the result of
long practice. Then she glanced in his
face with a smile that made even his cool
head giddy for an instant.
“I hope you don’t object to wearing
my colors for one evening?” she Baid.
Whether or not he wonld have made
the answer plainly demanded of him is a
question of doubt; for at that moment
Mrs. Jennings entered, and paused—
transfixed with astonishment.
^“Agatha, you down! —and Cousin Phil
ip ?”
Miss Loring turned, a glint of triumph
in her langing eyes, a cadence of triumph
in her quiet voioe.
“Yes, my dear Lucy, I have been down
some time—one’s ohamber is so warm
these afternoons! and I found Colonel
Thurston before me. We have been in
the garden, and, since he kindly assisted
me to gather some roses for my toilet, I
have been sharing the spoils with him.”
“So I perceive,” said Mrs. JenniDgs,
very significantly.
So others perceived, when the compa
ny gathered, and as usual Agatha wont to
dinner on Yirien’a arm. It chanced that
Thurston was seated just opposite, and
the creole’s eye soon fell on the rose in
his bntton hole.
“There appears to have been some oc
cult sympythy between Colonel Thnrston
and yourself in the matter of color this
evening,” he said, glancing at the roses
whioh were the ohief adornment of his
companion.
She looked at him serenely.
“Occult sympathies must be easily es
tablished, then. This only means that
we went into the garden together.
The green-eyed monster suddenly laid j scattered from his hand over the piazza-
a grasp on the accomplished lady killer’s 1 floor.
heart. He, too, had been in, the garden,
and well he knew what spell had been wo
ven about him there.
“Some one has remarked,” he said,
trying to speak lightly, “that gardens
have always been dangerous places to
mankind, since the fall of the first man
was accomplished there by the first wo
man.”
“Poor Eve!” said Miss Loring. “How
every Adam since the first has oast a re
proach at her! Yet her only fault was
listening to a serpent who has left many
prototypes behind—in gardens and else
where. ”
CHAPTER IV.
“I wonder how Virien likes snch a tarn
of affairs?”
So the inmates of Sans-Sonci said to
each other, smiling, as the next few days
flew by, and it became hourly more evi
dent that this irresistible gentleman’s star
had set as far as Miss Loring’s fickle fa
vor was concerned.
“Her caprices are certainly unaooonnt-
able!” people agreed. “Who could have
imagined that she wonld throw aside An
toine Virien for a man like Colonel
Thnrston—good enongh in his way, bnt
not prticnlarly attractive, and altogether
apart from the world in which she lives!”
“But that is just what she likes!” oth^ ;
ers would chime in. “To be capricions
and startling, to make a new sensation at
any price—what else does Agatha Loring
desire? Whoever withholds incense is
always the most important person of the
hoar with her, and you know Colonel
Thnrston did not bow down before her at
once. ”
“Poor Mrs. Jennings is really to be
pitied,” said some one, with a laugh. “Do
yon notice how anxioasly she watches
Agatha’s game of fascination?Sbe thought
she had arranged matters nicely to make
a match between Colonel Thurston and
Mary Herbert.”
Mrs. Jennings was, indeed, very much
to be pitied, for she was perplexed and
greatly disquieted. “With all my knowl
edge of the weakness and folly of men, I
did not think that Philip Thurston would
be such a fool! ” she confided to her hus
band. “It seems incredible. He knows
what Agatha is—he resented the manner
in which she treated Bertie—and now to
let her wind him round her finger like
this! Well, I shall never again believe in
the strength and stability of any man!”
“Man is always weak when woman
tempts, my dear,” observed Mr. Jennings
placidly. “That is an old story, and yon
ought to know. I don’t think Thnrston is
seriously hurt, however. ”
“Whether he is serionsly hart or not,
it is a shame for him to allow Agatha to
flirt with him in this manner. How any
man can have so little self respect is a
mystery to me—and there is Mary Her
bert, who would make him a lovely
wife!”
“I don’t think he wants a wife lovely
or otherwise,” said Mr. Jennings. “Pray
let the poor fellow entertain himself as
he likes. Yon mast admit that Miss Lo
ring knows how to make time pass pleas
antly.”
“A great deal too pleasantly,” said Mrs.
Jennings. “It is no affair of mine, of
course, bat I shall remind Consin Philip
of the warning I gave him the first day
he came.”
She soon found or made an opportnni-
ty to do this, and Thnrston received her
attempt at admonition very kindly.
“Yon are very good to feel so much in
terest in my behalf,” he said, “bnt I am
in no danger, I assure you. Miss Loring
is no donbt a very fascinating woman,
bnt her fascinations fall harmlessly on
me.”
“I don’t see how that can be,” said
Mrs. Jennings. “How can you acknow
ledge her fascination and yet find her
harmless?”
“I find her harmless because her fasci
nation is all born of artifice,” he answer
ed. “I feel, when I am with her, that
every glance is practiced, every tone cal
culated—and this takes away all their
charm. If she could speak, look or act,
from her heart—granting that she has a
heart—the matter would be different.”
“A heart wonld be a very great incon
venience in snch a career as Agatha Lor
ing’s,” said Mrs. Jennings; “bnt—I have
known her a long time, and she is a very
strange girl—I should not be surprised if
she had one hidden away somewhere."
“I wish to Heaven she would fiud it,
then!” said Thurston, bitterly.
“Oh!” said Mrs. Jennings. “And yet
you are not in danger! ”
He smiled.
“It is not possible you think I meant
that I wish she wonld find it for me?" he
asked. “What I meant was that I wish
she wonld find it in order that she might
suffer a little of the pain she has so often
inflicted.”
“That is very vindictive. Bat if you
feel toward her in this way, why do yon
flirt with her, or .allow her to flirt with
yon?”
“I allow her to flirt with me because it
seems to amnse her, and does not injure
me.”
Mrs. Jennings looked at the speaker
doubtfully. She did not believe that he
was telling the truth, or at least, not
all the troth, but she had no right to
question him farther.
“A willful man will not be warned any
more than a willful woman,” she said. “I
can only assure yon that, if you come
unharmed out of a flirtation with Agatha
Loring, yon will be the first man who
ever did so.”
She went her way then,but her words re
mained behind her, and as Thnrston stood
where she left him, a gravity of express
sion settled over his face, which seemed
like an echo of them. He was absently
rolling np a cigarette, when a voioe now
grown familiar, suddenly sounded behind
him, and he atarted ao that the tobaooo
“It is not a bad plan,” Miss Loring
said, within the drawing room. “A
change from onr ordinary rides and
drives will be pleasant. What is the dis
tance?”
“Ten miles,” another voice answered.
“We shall have to return after nightfall;
bnt there is a moon.”
“It will be delightful to ride ten miles
by moonlight! ’ cried Miss Herbert en
thusiastically.
“How many horses will be needed?”
asked Mr. Jennings.' “There are six sad
dle horses in the stable, but only two of
them are fit for ladies' use.”
“There is only one horse that I oare to
ride, said Agatha, quiokly, “and that is
Salathiel. May I ride him, Mr. Jennings?
Please say ‘yes!’ ”
Mr. Jennings hesitated.
“My dear Miss Loring,” he answered,
“you don’t know that yoa are asking me
to be responsible for yonr neck. No lady
has ever mounted Salathiel—in fact, he is
too spirited to be safe for a lady.”
“I am not in tha least afraid,” she said.
“I am a good rider, and I like a spirited
horse. I saw Colonel Thnrston riding
Salathiel the other day, and I have been
pining ever since to monnt the beantifnl
creature. There is Colonel Thnrston on
the piazza now. Call him and ask him
if he does not think it wonld be safe.”
Thurston was called and the question
pat to him. If he perceived the drift of
it, he made no sign to that effect. Sala
thiel was certainly spirited, he said, but
not at all vicious; if Miss Loring was sure
she was a good horsewoman, she might
monnt him with safety.
“Remember, you are accountable if
any accident happens,” and Mr. Jennings
and Agatha looked np with a laugh.
“You will take charge of me, won’t
you, Colonel Thurston? Thanks—I was
sure you would. But have you no curi
osity to know were we are going?”
“I supposed I should hear in dne
time.”
“And this is the dne time. Do yon
know a place called the Devil’s Gorge,
about tea miles from here?”
“Among the hills? Yes, I know of it,
but I have never seen it. Are we going
there?”
“We are. According to programme,
we leave here at four o’clock—rather a
warm hoar, but it oaa’t be helped—reach
there by six, spend an hoar exploring the
diabolical wonders of the place, and re
turn by moonlight."
“And how abont dinner? Do we take
it along or omit it altogether?”
“We take dinner at three o’clock, and
Mrs. Jennings promises us a supper when
we return. The excursion makes a total
bouleversement of our domestic habits—
bat wbat of that? No pleasure can be
gained without a sacrifice.”
lt Quere: Are the pleasures worth the
sacrifice?”
“Ah!” said she, with the slight, bitter
tinge which her tone sometimes took,
“we won’t ask that. Is any game that
we play in this world worth the candle we
burn meanwhile? Don’t suggest snch re
flections, bnt let ns go to the Devil’s
Gorge and enjoy an hour.”
At four o’clock the horses were brought
out, and when Agatha came down—her
slender, rounded figure showing to even
greater advantage than usual in her close-
fitting habit—Virien was standing at the
foot of the staircase waiting for her.
“I have not been able to ask before,”
he said, “bnt I hope I may have the
pleasure of attending you.”
“Unfortunately, you are a little too
late,” she answered, with her easy grace.
“Colonel Thurston has promised to take
charge of me, and see that Salathiel does
not break my neck.”
The young creole bowed; bat bis face
changed, as a man’s face does change un
der the influence of passion and mortifi
cation.
“My fortune is, indeed, bad,” he said.
“For some time past I have seemed to be
always ‘too late’ with yon. I am not so
doll as to misunderstand what that
means. I have had the honor to amnse
mademoiselle as long as she cared to be
amused—by me.”
No change of any kind came to her
face; she simply looked at him steadily
with her dear, haughty eyes.
“Let me congratulate yon on the
quickness of yonr perceptions,” she said.
“You are quite right. I have been amused
as long as I oare to be amused
—by you.”
Then she swept on, and came face to
faoe with Thnrston, who was issuing from
the drawing room door.
A glance told her that be had overheard
her last words. Indignation and con
tempt were mingled in the single look
which fell on her as he passed, with a
slight salute, and went oat to the piazza.
No woman ever possessed a braver
spirit than Agatha Loring, bnt, as she
met that look, her heart seemed to suffer
a compression, as if a strong hand had
grasped it. Hatred enough she had
known in her time, and faced unblench-
ingly; bat to be despised was something
new, and something which—from this
man especially—was not easily borne.
A minute later the entire party gather
ed on the piazza, and the mo anting took
place. Thnrston assisted Agatha to her
saddle, and then placed himself by her
side, keeping a watchful eye on Salathiel,
who was champing his bit and tossing
his handsome head.
“A light but firm hand on the reiD,
Miss Loring—yes, that is it. They have
pnt a very severe bit on him, and injn-
dicious curbing will fret him exceeding
ly.”
These words were the first Agatha
heard as they were riding through the
gates. She looked at the speaker with an
appeal in her smile which did not bear
reference to Salathiel.
“I hope I am never gnilty of ‘injudi
cious curbing,’ Colonel Thurston—
at least I endeavor not to be. k
light but firm hand is necessary on all
reins, I believe. Ah, see! I have dropped
my whip. How careless of me!”
As Thnrston dismounted for the whip
the rest of the party filed out of the gate
before them, and cantered away down the
road. Salathiel was impatient to follow,
bnt his rider held him with a steady
hand.
“Thank yon,” she said, as the whip
was restored; then she added, with a soft
frank langh: “I dropped it on purpose,
as yon probably suspect, in order that
we might get rid of the others. I want
to speak to yon—on an odd subject, as
yon may think. I saw by your face as
we left the honse that you heard what I
said to Mr. Virien at the foot of the stair
oase.”
“I heard it by the merest accident,”
Thnrston replied, ooldly. “I most apol
ogize—”
“Nay,” she interposed, “that is qnite
unnecessary. You could not possibly
avoid an aooident. Confess, however,
that you thought me utterly heartless.”
A flush rose to his faoe. “You should
not place me in snoh a position, Miss
Loring,” he said. “What is my opinion
to yon, that yon should ask me to declare
it in this manner?”
“It is a great deal to me,” she answer
ed fearlessly. “You are one of the few
men I have ever known whose respect
is worth winning. I know that yon don't
respect me now—I have seen it plainly
since the first moment we met—but I
should like to convince you that I am not
so black as some of my friends delight
to paint me.”
“It was not from any of your friends
that I first heard of yon, Miss Loring,”
said Thnrston, with the old sternness in
his face and voice, “but from a man who
like Mr. Virien, had the houor of amus-
ing yon as long as yon cared to be amused
—by him.”
“Ah! ” she said, “that is why yon dis
liked me before you knew anything of
me. Well, I will not inquire into yoor
friend’s case, or endeavor to defend my
self from the general charge of coqoetry;
bnt in this particular matter of Antoine
Virien I want you to undestand that the
man has no heart, or least fragment of a
heart, to suffer. An enormous amount of
vanity he does possess, and that I think
is properly punished. He is a lady-killer
by profession, a man who has won the
hearts of silly women by the scores, aud
who had the audacity to hope to add me
to his list of victims. I hold, therefore,
that I was more than justified in turning
the tables on him.”
“Perhaps so,” said Thurston, rather
dryly. “Snch ethics are altogether be
yond my experience or comprehension.’
“Why not say candidly that, despite
the explanation, yon think no better of
me than you did before?” she asked quiet
ly. “Your ideal woman would never
flirt, either for amassment or revenge, I
suppose. Eh, bien ! since I cannot con
quer your dislike, let us have a canter.
Salathiel is palling my arms nearly off. ”
When the party reached the Devil’s
Gorge, they found it a very diabolical
place indeed—a wild, savage-looking de -
file between precipitous hills, through
which a turbulent stream made its way,
plunging in falls and rapids over a bed of
rock and overhung by jagged cliffs and
bowlders, of stone so dark in color that
it looked almost black. There was very
little verdure in the gorge, and at the
time the party of excursionists entered,
little light. In the obscurity the great
masses of rock and strangely forbidding
aspect, as, crowned here and there by a
few pines, they stood motionless above
the chafing Btream.
“How cool and dark—the atmosphere
is almost like that of a cave! ” several of
the ladies exclaimed when—having dis
mounted and fastened their horses at
some distance—they entered the gorge
on foot.
“Thefe are several caves here,” said
Mr. Jennings. “The largest is nea» the
High Fall some distance np the gorge.
Now let me beg you all to be careful,
for the rocks are exceedingly slippery,
and if yon should fall into the stream
yon wonld certainly be drowned. ”
This warning was not greatly regarded,
but it is to be supposed that Providence
watched over the reckless young people
who risked their necks so heedlessly—at
least there is no ether way to account for
their safety. Mr. Jennings trembled as
he witnessed the feats of one or two par
ticularly foolish young ladies, and record
ed a vow in his own mind never to bring
another party to the Devil’s Gorge.
It is hardly necessary to state that
Agatha was not among these hoidens—
she was not only past the age when ani
mal spirits assert themselves so exuber
antly, bnt she had Thnrston for her guide
his hand to assist her, bis voioe to direct
her steps, and it is safe to say that be
fore any woman under his charge conld
deliberately have periled her life, as many
around were doing, she would have had
to push him into the flood.
Thongh a cautious, he was an experi
enced climber, Miss Loring foond, and
they soon penetrated moch farther than
the others into the wild retreats of the
gorge. Near the High Fall—where the
stream fell into a perpendicular cascade
of about fifty feet—they found the cave
of which Mr. Jennings had spoken—a
large, irregular recess, formed and over-
htiDg by jagged rocks, aud (roughly
speaking) about twenty feet square. The
entrance to it was narrow, for the stream
in its eddying flow from the foot of the
fall, covered most of the mouth; but
once inside, the Bpace was ample.
Standing here, with the fall thundering
in their ears, it was not strange they did
not hear the shonts with which the oliff-
bound gorge resounded when the rest of
the party deoided to return. Some one
had chanced to look np, and on the strip
of sky overhead perceived a threatening
olond, upon which the ory, “To horse!”
was raised at once.
“It will be no joke if we are oanght in
a storm ten miles from home, with night
so near,” said Mr. Jennings. “We mast
return at onoe. Wbat has become o^
Thnrston and Miss Loring?”
“They went np to the fall— we’ll shout
for them,” said somebody.
They were accordingly shouted for,
with no result, as has been already said.
Then a volunteer clambered np to a point
which commanded a view of the fall, and
reported no sign of them; and since sev
eral of the ladies grew very nervous iu
view of the threatening storm, it was de
oided to wait no longer.
“They’ll soon follow,” said one of the
shonters, cheerfully. “Perhaps, indeed,
they have already left the gorge. ”
It was of coarse evident that this was
not the case when the party reached the
place where the horses were tied; bnt
human nature, whioh is selfish at all
times, is apt to exhibit that selfishness in
peculiar degree when a olond threatens
to empty itself on the defenceless heads
of a pleasure party. The general con-
elusion was, that Thurston and Miss Lor
ing mnst look after themselves, but that
they would follow in a few minutes.
Instead of a few minutes, however, it
was fully half an hour later before they
came down the gorge and found it desert
ed.
“Why, the rest must have gone!” said
Miss Loring. “How strange of them to
leave us in this way!”
“Exceedingly strange!” said Thnrston.
“I can hardly think that they have really
done so; bnt we shall soon see."
“How very dark it is!” said the young
lady a minute later. “Did you think it
was so near night ?”
“I can’t account for the degree of ob
scurity at all—unless it ia cloudy,” her
companion answered.
When they emerged from the narrow
ravine, the cause of this obscurity was at
once evident. From end to end the sky
was curtained by a cloud of lurid black
ness, the aspect of which was menacing
in the extreme. It seemed spread like a
pall over the earth, which lay as if under
a spell of stillness. Not a leaf stirred in
the forest that stretched around, and the
only sonnd that broke the oppressive si
lence was the dull roar of water in the
gorge.
Agatha fairly shuddered when she faced
this lowering front of Nature.
“A terrible storm is about to burst ! ”
she said. “Where can the others be?—
and what shall we do?”
“The others have played a very un
handsome trick in going away and leav
ing us,” said Thnrston. “I can hardly
tell what we had better do unless—”
The speech was never finished, for at
this instant out of the bosom of the
cloud darted forth not a flash but a blaze
of lightning, which lighted npjfhe whole
scene with a vivid glare beyond all de
scription. Agatha clasped her hands over
her eyes, uttering a cry which was loBt in
the volleying crash of thunder that ac
companied rather than followed the aw-
ful illumination.
The next moment she felt Thurston’s
hand on her arm.
“Come!” he said. “This will not do—
we mu9t go back to the gorge and tejse
refuge under the rocks. There is terri
ble risk in remaining here.”
She made no demnr, and they reenter-
the girge just as a sighing sonnd of dis
tant wind came to their ears—a harbin
ger of the hurricane soon to sweep
through the forest.
In the deep-shaded ravine there had by
this time fallen a darkness which made it
dangerons to attempt its passage. Nev
ertheless, as Thurston recognized at onoe
there was no alternative. Some shelter
they must have, and there was no other
shelter than this to be found.
Trusting to the capability of seeing in
a dim light which he had acquired as a
scout, he guided his companion along the
narrow path. Before they had advanced
very far, there came another vivid blaze
of lightning and volleying crash of
thunder, followed hard and fast by pour
ing rain.
“Oh!” said Agatha, stopping nnder a
projecting rock. “Let us stay here. We
can go no farther.”
“We must go farther!” said Thurston.
“We shall soon be drenched here. The
only place which can shelter us is the
cave near the High Fall. We must try
and reach that. Give me your hand,Miss
Loring. Trust yourself implicitly to me,
and I will take you there safely!”
“Trust yourself implicitly to me!’’These
words rang in Agatha’s ears above the
din of the storm, the roar of the stream.
Perhaps the firm clasp of Thurston’s
hand seconded them—at least it is certain
that she had a sense of trust and reliance
altogether strange to her as he led her
along the perilous way to the cave they
had quitted a short time before.
[to be continued.]
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