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probable,” was 'Genie's answer. “Why
should he not love her ?—she is charm
ing’, young, beautiful, wealthy, and of
high rank. What more would you
have V*
“ I would have a guileless heart, a
pure soul. She is not worthy of our Ar
thur, 'Genie, and will you not promise me
never to see her again ?”
“ Why, how dreadfully in earnest you
:ire, Reginald. What do you know of
the Countess?”
“ I have seen her often, ’Genie. Will
you not promise me ?”
“ Unreasonable,” pouted Genie ; “you
know that 1 like her so much. Arc you
jealous of my friends, Regie ?”
“ Jealous ! no, indeed, dear ’Genie; but
ido ngt like her. Promise me, darling,
that you will not continue your acquaint
anee with her. I have excellent reasons
for making this request. Can you not
trust me?”
“ Indeed, Regie, you make me almost
cross with your mysteries.” In truth, a
shade had fallen over the fair face of
’Genie. “ Here is a woman who is perfect
ly charming to every one, but yourself,
and you ask me to deny myself the
pleasure of her company. For what ?
Why. for a whim ?”
“A whim? Oh! ’Genic, you do not
think so—you know that I love you too
well to deprive you of any pleasure. I
know that the Countess is charming. Do
you know the name she bears in Flor
ence ? She is called ‘ The Enchantress.’
I have even heard of her in Naples. Oh!
shun her as you would an adder, ’Genie,
for to me it seems that you already feel
the power of her fascination 1”
“ Oh! hush, Regie; you frighten me.
I will do as you wish, and, to tell you
the truth, Regie, I have noticed that Ar
thur has no will but hers when he is in
her presence.”
“ Then wc must go away from her,”
answered Reginald, promptly. “ I must
leave you now, I have an appointment
then, turning to Marmaduke, lie continued,
“we must leave Florence to-morrow,
Duke, and I must beg you to make all
necessary arrangements, as I am going
out this evening.”
“ Going where, Regie ?” asked Duke.
“ An appointmentand, taking his
brother aside', Regie drew a note from
his pocket, and put it iu his band.
Marmaduke murmured over the words
to himself:
“ If Lord Reginald will call again, lie
shall receive papers of vast importance to
himself and family, from the writer.
Let the time be Wednesday evening at
10 o’clock.”
“ There is no name to this note,” said
'Duke. “Do you know who it is irom ?”
Regie blushed slightly, as he answered:
*'l do; it is not the first one I have
received.”
“ Not a love affair, surely, Regie ?”
“ Indeed, no!” answered Reginald, in
dignantly. “To be sure, the lady pre
tend to have taken a fancy to me, but,
even if she has, you should know me
better than to suppose, for an instant,
that my heart could waver in its alle
giance to ’Genie.”
“ Then you are engaged to ’Genie ? I
thought so; and does this other lady
know it ?”
“ Yes; I told her that 1 could never
love her, as I already loved another.”
“ You told her that, and yet you will
keep an appointment that she makes ? Be
sure, Regie, she means mischief. If you
go, I will go with you.”
“ Let her mean mischief, if she will,
’Duke; I am not afraid of a woman,” said
Reginald.
“ Not afraid of a woman, it is true ; but
you know not who else may be there.
Enough ! if you go, I go too.”
“ But, brother—”
“ Say no more, Regie,” interrupted
Marmaduke, placing his hand on Regi
nald’s arm; “ you do not know these
Italians as well as I do. Come, let us
go; I will not enter the drawing-room, as
I am an unwelcome visitor, but 1 will
guard the door, and see that there is no
treachery.”
“ How very close it is—not a breath of
air—the heat is almost stifling,” said
Reginald, gaspingly, as the front door
closed behind them.
“ 1 was about to remark the same
thiug,' , answered ’Duke ; “ ihere seems
to be a peculiar sultriness in the atmos
phere this evening, as though a violent
storm were brewing. Let us hasten our
steps.”
Leaving them now, let us return to
Arthur.
Y hen he left his cousins so abruptly,
he rushed into the street, with hasty
steps, and, in less than ten minutes, en
tered the dwelling of the Countess
Ravenna.
She is awaiting him in her private par*
; or, where none are to be admitted to
night, save Arthur, and one other. Near
one ot the windows, on a low sofa, re
clined the Countess. Famed, alike for
her wealth and beauty, she lacked not
for society, even now. Though she sits
there alone, her large drawing-rooms are
filled with a merry company. She is a
widow, ’tis said, without an heir, unless
the fair, blue-eyed girl, sometimes, though
rarely, seen in the house, is a relative.
To-night the lady is robed in a dress of
richest satin, of a golden hue, and over
it falls clouds of misty lace. Her dark
hair, reaching far below her waist, falls
in heavy curls around her shoulders, and
about her brow gleams a coronet of dia
monds, enhancing the splendid beauty of
its wearer. But, in the eyes of this dark
beauty, rests her greatest charm. Now,
they glow and sparkle! and now they
melt into the softest and tenderest love !
they seem to charm, aye, actually fasci
nate the beholder ! ’Twould be impossi
ble to say how old this lady is, for, if she
looks at you one instant with the artless
look of sixteen, the next she throws back a
compliment, or sneer, with the accom
plished art of a woman of thirty-five.
And now, Arthur advances with hasty,
yet trembling, steps, and she rises to
greet him.
“Most welcome, Arthur. But, are you
not late ?”
The bewildering eyes arc fixed upon
his face, and the soft hand grasps his.
“Am I late, dearest?” and pressing
the little hand to his lips, Arthur sat
down beside her. “ I did not wisli to be
late, for the time passes wearily when I
am not with you. Oh! tell me, dearest
Guilia, when will you give me the right
to be always near you ?”
“ Whenever you will, dear Arthur, if
you will but do my will in one thing—if
you will do me one service.”
Arthur knelt at her feet, and, clasping
her hands in his, looked up into her face,
her blue eyes swimming in a tender
light, while he answered ;
“ Do you not know, dearest, that for
you to command is for me to obey ?
Speak, then, my Queen, and let me
know your will.”
“ And are you sure that you would do
it, Arthur ?”
“ Oh! you know that I would do any
thirty for you, that conflicts not with my
honor.”
She bent forward until her long black
hair fell over his shoulders, until her
warm, fragrant breath fanned his glow
ing cheek, while she whispered :
“ And what do you call honor, Ar
thur?”
“Oh !” he replied passionately, “ I
will do anything, everything, that you re
quire; only speak, Guilia!” and his eyes
were fixed upon her’s as if fascinated by
the dazzling light that flashed from them.
Holding his hand, she drew him to a
seat by her side, never once removing
her eyes from his, and, leaning her head
upon his bosom, whispered, in a voice of
softest music:
“ I have been wronged, Arthur, and
to you I look for vengeance on mine
enemy.”
“ You shall have it, Guilia; only tell
me your will!”
Still that steadfast look into his eyes,
her own flashing and glowing with a
dangerous light. Still nearer she drew
to him, and, while her soft, warm lips
were pressed closely to his, she murmured:
“ Blood alone can wash away the stain,
Arthur,” and pressed a small golden
lnlted dagger into his hand. For an in
stant, her eyes fell from bis, and starting
from her embrace, Arthur threw the
dagger from him, exclaiming, in an ex
cited voice :
“ What is it you ask of me, Guilia ?
Good Heavens! is it murder? Do you
ask me to stain my baud with blood ?”
Again she glided to his side, again she
clasped his hand in hers, and, in a mo
ment, Arthur’s wild excitement had pass
ed away, and he passively followed the
motion of her hand as she drew him to a
seat. Softly she wound her arms around
his neck, and gazed into his eyes. In
vain Arthur strove to turn away his
head, his eyes were riveted upon her
face. And then she spoke :
“ Murder, Arthur ! Do you call it
murder to crush a reptile that stings you
in your path? No! Then call it not
murder to stab this miscreant to the
heart! lie has insulted me, scorned and
defied me to my face ! If yon will not
do this for me, with my own hand will I
do it. But, you will do it, Arthur ; and
while your hand is still red with his blood,
I will place mine in it, and you shall
lead me to the altar!"
[to be continued.]
Vermont— The Great Victory Growing
Smaller. —The great victory in Vermont
is growing smaller by degrees and beau
tifully less. All that is now" claimed is
27,000 —a majority not greater than Ver
mont gave in 1862, when the Democracy
swept Ohio on State officers, and carried
more than two-thirds of the members of
Congress. And history will repeat itself
this Fall. —Columbus (0.) Statesman,
Sept. 9th.
[Selected.]
Broken Threads.
i.
As the shuttle swiftly flies
Back and forth before our eyes,
Blending, with its fingers light,
Warp and woof till they unite
In a fabric good and strong,
Let us hear the weaver’s song :
XI.
Weaving ever, day by day,
As the shuttles briskly play,
Broken threads how oft annoy
And our precious time employ ;
Warning us by sharp reproof,
Wo must watch the warp and woof!
in.
Wearing in Life’s busy loom—
Mingling sunshine with the gloom—
Warp and woof of deeds we blend
Till life’s fabric has an end ;
Broken threads how oft we find
Burdening the noble mind!
IV.
Broken threads in life abound,
In each station they are found ;
May Faitli’3 kind and friendly hand
Help us to adjust the strand,
That, when life’s last tide shall ebb,
There shall be a perfect wob.
' LAYING ThF GHOST
“Will you try it? ” said pretty Laura
Wilber to me. “Dare you sleep in the
blue room to-night? ”
“Dare! There are few things I would
not dare fur you. I dare do anything
that you ask.”
“But I don’t ask it. I only want to
know what you think about this story of
the ghost, for I confess it frightens me to
death.”
“Will you promise to run with your
heartshorn-bottle to my rescue if you hear
me scream? ”
“No, indeed, I’ll promise no such thing.
I’m sure my knees would give way under
me, and I should need all my heartshorn
myself.”
“Well, then, I suppose the ghost must
got me, for I shall sleep in the blue-room
to-night, and if I am carried off bodily or
die of fright, I’ll leave my fortune to you.”
“All right,” cried Richard Wilber from
his sofa in the corner. “Get that down
in black and white, Laura. I’ll draw
your will, Fred; let us see the thing
through.”
And, laughingly, he went off to his
writing-desk.
“Now for it,” said he, “make your will,
old fellow; I’ll draw it up in good form.”
Accordingly, I dictated as Richard
wrote.
The will was made, signed and wit
nessed, and Laura Wilber was named as
the heiress of my large fortune in case of
my death ensuing during that night.
“I don’t half like it,” said she, as Dick
left the room, to put away the document.
“It’s all well enough for a joke, hut sup
pose something to you
accidentally, or suppose you should in
reality seethe ghost?”
Her blue eyes half filled with tears,
and her sweet face expressed such hor
ror, that I burst into one of my intoler
able fits of laughter, that always over
took me just at the wrong moment.
“Don’t laugh,” begged Laura, “indeed,
I see no fun in such objects. Death and
ghosts are not to be made fuu of; and
besides, I am afraid of Dick; he is a wild
kind of man; he has lived in South Amer
ica all his life, nobody ’’knows where, till
he is but half civilized. Did you see
how his eyes gleamed, and did you hear
him laugh when you signed your name?
It frightens me to joke about such things.
Please don’t laugh?”
“Well, if I were to stop laughing every
time you were frightened, I’d soon be
melancholly enough. But I won’t talk
about ‘such things’ if the subject is so
disagreeable to you.”
“Burn up that silly will, then,” said
she. “Why should you leave your for
tune to me?”
And a twinkle in her eye, told me she
well knew why, but being a woman, she
must coquette.
“Why shouldn’t I, Miss Laura? I beg
leave to assure you I do not intend to die
of fright, but live to enjoy my own money.”
“ Oh! ” was all the answer she made to
this somewhat rude reply, but her down
cast eyes said rather more.
“Laura,” I began, impetuously, “who
should have my fortune, if not you ?
Do you not know that you possess my
heart, and soul—then why not my for
tune? ”
“Oh, for pity’s sake stop. Now you
are worse than even when you talked of
death and ghosts. It’s of no consequence,
thankie. Good evening.”
And off she ran, laughing, leaving me
alone.
“Who on earth can account for a wo
man’s whim?” I soliloquized. “Here is a
girl as gentle as sunlight, as timid as a
bird, full of love to all mankind, yet even
she must try to flirt, even she will laugh
at a fellow the moment he tries a little
sentiment. She quoted Dickens,-too.
Never mind, Miss Laura—we have
laughed together many a time, and we
will do it again, in spite of ghosts, and
Dicks, and Dickens. I don’t like that
Dick any better than she does, though.
He is an impertinent fellow, and under
all his assumed bonhommie, there is a
concealed malice. I heard he wanted to
marry Laura.—Well let him try it.
Who’s afraid? Not I!”
With these thoughts occupying my
mind, I went up the old-fashioned stair
way, which to me, was one of the chief
beauties of the old-fashioned house of the
Wilbers, in which I had been a guest for
three weeks. Robert Wilber and I, bad
been college chums, but this was my first
visit to his home, and I had fallen in love
with his pretty sister, before I bad been
ten minutes within its walls. I had made
up my mind to write a formal offer of
my hand that very night, and as I thought
it likely that all-important epistle would
occupy me till the small hours, it mattered
but little to me which room I sat in. So,
making my way to my room, I took my
writing materials, and marched oft'to the
haunted room.
It seems that it had acquired its name
about seventy years before the period of
which I write, and immediately after the
death of old Richard Wilber, wdio, having
lived a life of adventure, came home fi
nally to settle on his estate, with a
damaged reputation and digestion.
The two conspired to make his life a
torment to himself and others, and he
hung himself to his bed-post, in the blue
-100111, where it was said his ghost walked
for many years. It was rumored that he
had killed a man in a duel, and that his
spirit would not rest on that account.
The room had been avoided, but the
story had nearly died out, when suddenly
strange sounds were again heard at mid
night, and one of the maids who ventured
in the room late one night, was found in
convulsions, and as soon as she was able
to speak, declared that she had seen a
figure leaning over the writing-desk,
clothed in a long black cloak, and it came
toward her with menacing, angry gesticu
lations. She screamed and fainted, and
knew no more, till she found the family
around her.
The stable boy also declared that he
had often seen a dim blue light burning
in that room late at night, and once he
had seen the figure of a man pass the
window, dressed in a long black cloak.
All this terrified the household so that
no one of the servants would dare venture
into the room.
Mr. and Mrs. Wilber laughed at the
stories, but Laura was evidently secretly
terrified, and it was to allay her fears that
I had volunteered to sit up all night in
the blue room, aud if possible, to “ lay
the ghost.”
As I entered the apartment, I was
somewhat struck with the desolate ap
pearance of it, but my thoughts were so
occupied with the letter, I was about to
compose, that I did not give the ghost a
single thought.
Drawing my easy chair to the table and
arranging my writing materials before
me, 1 soon became completely absorbed
in my occupation.
Gradually the house became entirely
still; the distant slamming of doors, told
of the final retirement of the family. The
old clock on the stairs tolled out twelve,
in long, solemn strokes, and then nothing
was to be heard but the scratching of my
pen, as I, sometime, hastily, sometimes
slowly, filled page after page, only to be
destroyed when written, for it was no
easy matter to write this letter. Too
much depended upon it,to treat it lightly;
every word must be weighed; every sen
tence duly considered; and what diction
ary on earth can furnish the proper words
for such- a letter? And what man on
earth can know what will suit the wo
man he loves, when she treats him forty
different ways in as many minutes ?
“Hang it,” I at last exclaimed. “I’ll
speak to her to-morrow I can’t write ; it’s
best to speak; but no--she will laugh
again as she did this evening! But then,
again, her sweet eyes told some tales this
evening, too? Yes, I’ll risk it. I’ll speak to
her to-morrow, and go to sleep now,
my light is nearly burned, and, to confess
the truth, writing love-letters is a sleepy
business.”
So, leaning back in my easy chair, I
began to think over the best way to offer
O v
myself.
Gradually a dreamy feeling over
powered me, and, although I was des
perately in love I found I could sleep,
which was, of cour.se, out of all rule;
but I was punished for it. I began to
wander through the loveliest gardens in
all dreamland, and Laura walked by my
side. Her hand was in mine; I stopped
to gather a rose, and gave it to her; but
what a strange odor the flower had!
Where had I ever perceived such before?
It surely was not like a rose! Never
mind. Oh, how soft Laura’s hand was!
I raised it to my lips. Hark! what noise
was that!
Nothing—oh, nothing! How delicious
the sunlight was! how lovely Laura’s
blue eyes! how soft the pressure of her
arm within mine! Put why did she sud
denly grip me, as with hands of ; ro ip
Ha! I strangled! Help! help! oh, help;
Struggling with an invisible power. 1
feltniy strength depart; an overpower
ing pressure on my heart held me Lack
some subtile essence seemed to pervade
my entire being, and controlled it; a
dreamy recollection of the haunted room
floated across my brain; I struggled again,
sank back again and again, but still the
dreamy languor that held my eyes closed,
kept me back, while the pressure on tny
chest, the throbbing in my head, and the
wild beating of my pulses, increased
each instant. Gradually, I began to col
lect my senses; I opened my eyes.
There before me, standing motionless in
the dim gray light, was a figure shrouded
in long black garments! For an instant
my senses reeled; the hair of my head
stood up; I shivered as though in an ague;
then; suddenly rallying, I called out ;
“Who are you? Speak!” There was
no answer. “Speak! ” I cried again; ‘ I
know you are no ghost, but a fellow mor
tal, trying to play upon my fears; do not
think you will succeed,” continued 1 ;
and with an intention ot flinging myself
upon the figure, and discovering who it
was, I made a spring forward. But I was
held back forcibly, and looking down, I
saw in a moment that I was fastened in
to my chair; my hands and feet tightly
tied; a band around my waist, and another
round my neck, completely secured mo.
A faint, sickly odor pervaded the room:
my candle had burned f out, but in the
gray dim light of an early summer’s dawn,
1 saw the motionless figure still before me.
Instantly a thought flashed through my
mind.
“Richard Wilber,” said I, “I know
you; you have drugged me with ether,
in order to terrify me; you have carried
your joke somewhat too far, in fastening
me to my chair; it was a coward’s trick
to prevent me from administering the
chastisement that your insolence deserves.
Release me instantly; it is time your
play was over!”
Still no reply"! The figure remained
motionless and speechless before me.
“Do you think to terrify me? ” I cried,
in exasperation at my helpless state; “do
you suppose that I am coward and fool
enough to believe you a ghost? Let
this end iustantly, or by my soul you
shall repent it.”
The figure moved slightly, and held
out its arms; so doing, it uncovered its
face, and I recognized the gleaming eyes
of Richard Wilber.
“Look!” said he, holding up a small
bottle; “I have here what may perhaps
be the means of introducing you to some
bona-fide ghosts, my friend, who may
possibly b<T able to dismay your brave
soul that you swear by. 1 have drugged
you, and you are in my power, for I have
but to hold this small bottle under your
handsome nose, and in a minute you will
be in Hell! Now, listen to my terms, to
which if you agree, I will give you liberty
again. Give up all idea of Laura:
promise not to see her again, or reveal
the transactions of this night, and you
are free; but swear on this Bible to keep
your word, or else take a whiff of my
smelling bottle to refresh your soul.' 1
“Insolent fool! ” 1 cried, “you Lave
not even wit enough to play the villain:
do you think that we are living in the
dark ages, or in the Castle of Otranto,
where a man may be murdered and done
away with mysteriously, and no question
asked! Why, I have but to raise my
voice, and the family would he around
us in an instant. Mysteries are scarcely
the order of the day, in a jolly old house
like this. lam inclined to think you
forget that we are civilized human
beings in this part of the world/’ And
I laughed as the absurdity of the position
struck me.
“I dont seethe joke,” returned Richard;
there is no mystery about the matter.
You are well known to have disease of the
heart; any sudden fright may easily kih
you, niv bottle tells no tales. I shall con
fess to playing ghost, as a joke, not anti
cipating the tatal effect; 1 shall be frantk
with despair at the thought of what 1 had
innocently occasioned, and it will be ah
that pretty Laura can do to comfort me
blit she shall; yes, by George! and you:
fortune shall be the salve that will hea;
my wound. Come, now, you see you au.
helpless; agree to my terms, and awa>
with you.”
“Never,” I exclaimed, struggling vio
lently, but hopelessly. ”1 despise you’
terms and you, and I will never consent to
your cowardly proposal."
“Take the consequences, then.” said he.
calmly advancing toward me. “I don
object, my boy; your money is mine.
Laura shall be my wife.”
“Indeed, Cousin Dick!” said a y •
voice behind me ; “did you ever hear
it took two to make a bargain i
And to my infinite surprise, Laura m
self stood before us, holding a light in he
hand. ,
“Be kind enough to release your frieru.
she continued; “it would scarcely be p>'
sible to murder two of us, before the hon-t