VOL,- I.
[For the Banner of the South.]
A Lily.
She makes her home in fragrant garden places,
Where living perfumes through the twilight fall,
And wbitely beautiful, 'mid radiant faces,
Lifts her unspotted crown above them all;
And as the six-leaved dower to light uncloses
Each petal, stainless as an Angel's thought,
There comes a solemn hush upon the roses,
A tenderness her purity has wrought.
Stately, yet modest as the quiet blossom
Smiling unheeded by the woodland stream,
Its only mirror that transparent bosom,
Its days and nights but one harmonious dream;
Tender—and to be touched with reverent Angers—
Its early fragrance tarrying to the last,
So the faint presence of the incense lingers,
When He, for whom its richness burned, has passed,
In Earth’s wide garden, there are precious flowers,
So modest, that wo pass them every day;
And through this desolate human waste of ours,
Unseen, they bud, and blossom, and decay;
But, sometimes, in our midst, one soul uncloses
A life as stainless as an Angel’s thought,
Theu words fail— ’tis the hush upon the roses—
The reverence such purity has wrought.
Fidelia.
[Written for the Banner of the South.]
The Earls of Sutherland.
BY RUTH FAIRFAX,
CHAPTER Y,
[continued.]
“Oh ! beautiful demon,” murmured
Arthur, iu a tone of agony ; “ you tempt
me to my soul’s destruction; require not
this of me, ask of me anything but this !”
He sprang to his feet, and once more
grew wild and excited. "Anything but
this, Guilia; demand of me my own
life; ask me to stab myself to the heart,
I will do it, calliug it joy to die here at
your feet!”
Slowly she lifted her hand, and waved
it gently before his face, her eyes bright
ening, as do the ere they
spring upon their victim. In a few mo
ments, the wild excitement of Arthur’s
manner subsided, the agonized expression
of his face faded away, and he gazed, with
glassy eyes, upon the beautiful fiend be
fore him. Minute after minute passed
away, and still she continued the myste
rious motion of her hand, muttering to
herself : “ 'Twas a last resort; I was
almost afraid to try it; but it has suc
ceeded well.” At last she spoke :
“Arthur! do you hear me ?”
“Yes,” he replied, in a harsh voice, as
uulike his usual tone as possible; “Ihear
you.”
“Ho you know me ? really know who
1 am ?”
“Yes, I know you; know you, as Ar
thur Sutherland does not; I know you
f t the demon that thou art; thy past
life flashes before me as in a picture ; I
follow thy thought; I see thee as the
murderer of thy benefactor’s son ; I see
thee fix the guilt upon thy boy lover,
Ormand Sutherland; and now for the
demon who is urging Arthur on to his
own ruin, to murder the brother of that
Kimc Ormand !”
He paused, and a look of surprise, nay,
almost of fear, flashed over the face of the
Countess.
"Ah !” she exclaimed, “so Reginald
Mortimer is Reginald Sutherland, it
scorns; he hates me, I know; can he
Have recognized me ? But what do I say ?
he was a mere baby when I left Eng
iand ; doubtless, he knows nothing
about it; ’ and then she raised her voice :
Arthur, you, also, are an Englishman ;
do you know anything of this person ?”
“Yes, I know,” answered Arthur,
speaking reluctantly, as though against
bis will, “Reginald, my brother.”
His brother !” exclaimed the
Countess ; “has fate, then, decreed that I
shall destroy this whole family of the
Haris of Sutherland ! So be it. Reginald,
‘U least, shall not escape! You know
tnis person, Arthur ; will you do my
will ?”
“Arthur will do your will,” he answer
cu, and all the time lie gazed upon her
with the stony stare of a corpse His
face was deadly pale; cold drops hung
upon his brow ; not a muscle moved while
she spoke to him ; in fact, he looked like
a corpse to whom was given, for a time,
the power of speech.
“Come here!” She held out her hand
towards him, and, with short, reluctant
steps, pausing a moment after each one,
Arthur approached her. At this mo
ment, a step was heard ascending the
stairs, and the Countess hastily waved
her hand before his face, speaking to him,
meanwhile, in a soft, tender voice ;
“AVake up, dearest, wake Up; you have
been asleep, and someone comes !” and,
in even a shorter time than it takes us to
write it, Arthur regained his usual man
ner, and sank exhausted into a seat by her
side.
“ ’Twas but a false alarm, after all,”
she whispered to herself, as the steps
passed on; “however, I have made an
important discovery ; I can wield this
power over him, if he refuses to do my
will.”
“Guilia,” said Arthur, faintly, “have I
been dreaming, or did you really require
me to do a deed I even shudder to name ?
Have I been asleep, Guilia ?”
“At least, you have not dreamed, Ar
thur; I do require this of you, and this
very night.” She clasped his hands,
and again fixed her glorious eyes full
upon him.
“I will do it,” he answered in a voice
as cold as ice ; “you have tempted me to
do au awful deed, Guilia, and, to win
you, I will do it; I cannot resist your
power, Guilia, and you know it!”
“Wait here, then, Arthur; I will return
in a few moments.” She pressed her lips
to his brow, and, tearing herself from his
encircling arms, hastily left the room.
So far from the crowded* drawing
rooms was this luxurious apartment,
that the noise of the merry revelers was
lost in the distance, yet not so far was it,
but that strains of sweet music floated on
the air, mingling with the rich perfume
of flowers, and, so soothing was the effect,
one might have thought it would bring
peace to the troubled soul of Arthur.
But, alas! not so; beyond the sweet
healing of Nature, was poor Arthur’s
sorrow ; and remorse for the, as yet, un
committed crime, was already seizing
upon his soul. He lay upon the sofa, his
face upturned to that Heaven he was
about to defy, that Heaven he was about
to forfeit., And, amid all the conflicting
emotions raging in his breast, and lashing
his soul into a wild phrenzy, was the dim
thought just struggling into existence :
“I will hate her, I do hate her, but I
cannot resist her fearful power.”
At this instant, the Countess re-entered
the room.
“Come, Arthur!” she whispered, hur
riedly, “stand here in the shadow of this
curtain ; lie is coming!” And, again
placing the dagger in his hand, she
caressed him tenderly, until forgetfulness
of his agony and his resolves passed over
his soul, and Arthur yielded to the power
of the vile enchantress.
“I am ready,” lie murmured, clasping
her closely to his heart, and then, to
night, to-night, Guilia, shall be our
bridal ?”
“Even so, Arthur, it shall be as I
have promised. Stand there; lie will sit
here, on this sofa; when 1 wave my
hand thus,” and she held her arm in a
graceful curve before his eyes, “strike !
and strike sure !.!”
She let fall the curtain, carefully
arranging the folds that he might not be
seeu, and, for the present, might not see,
leaving his senses locked in a magic
slumber, that he might not even hear; for
she knew her power, and that a wave of
her hand could instantly awake him.
The clock rung forth the hour of eleven,
and a low knock at the door announced i
the arrival of the expected visitor. An
other moment, and the door opened, ad
mitting Reginald Sutherland ; without the
door, stood a stalwart form ; but this the
GLA.., SEPTEMBER 26, 1868.
Countess did not see; her head was
humbly bent upon her bosom.
Bowing low, Reginald spoke.
“I have obeyed your call, Couutess. I
am here, for the last time. If you have
any papers of importance to myself, or
my family, give them to me.”
“It needs not for you to tell me that
’tis the last time ; I will detain you hut
a few moments, and never see you
1 D "
again.
Her voice w r as low and humble, but
her eyes flashed brightly, and her lips
curled in triumph.
“Sit here.” She motioned to the seat
on the sofa, at her side, and, as Reginald
hesitated, said : “In courtesy to ’a lady,
Signor, you cannot refuse.”
And Reginald sank into the proffered
seat, with his hack to Arthur, who stood
not three feet from him.
And now behold this awful picture:
There sits the most beautiful woman in
Italy, and truly beautiful she is. Beau
tiful she is, in form and feature, as an
Angel, but with a dark deformity of soul,
fit only for a demon. There she sits, her
dark hair sweeping over her snowy
shoulders, half veiling her beauteous
bust ; the light of love upon her brow,
and murder in her heart, her red lips
curved with a sweet smile, her eyes
beaming with a fascinating light, upon
Reginald, who sits calmly before her, not
at all dazzled by her glorious beauty,
and hurling defiance to her charms in
every look of his bright black eyes, in
every curve of his handsome mouth.
Nor does Reginald’s heart belie his noble
brow, for he is beautiful alike in form
and soul.
Just behind Reginald stands Arthur,
holding back the curtain with‘his left
hand. The well known, and loved, voice
of his brother has partially, but only par
tially, roused him. and he stands there,
the damp, as ot death, upon his brow,
every feature convulsed with agony,
grasping the dagger in his right hand,
only awaiting the motion of that lovely
arm to plunge it into the heart of his best
loved brother. See those glassy eyes
how they rest upon the graceful form of
Reginald, with a look of maddening
anguish. Oh ! behold him, this youngest
and favorite brother, and pity the unfor
tunate youth, who, enchained by the
fascinations ot the enchantress, stands
ready to plunge his family again into the
depths of affliction far deeper than before;
to strike to their hearts the double an
guish of knowing one son and brother
murdered, the other a murderer ! But let
us not linger, but hasten over it as rapidly
as possible. With a slight motion of her
hand, the Countess jerked the curtain from
Arthur’s fingers, and its folds fell around
him again, as Regie spoke :
“What is your will, lady?”
She did not answer, but bending for
ward, looked earnestly in his face, with
the same look that always bound Arthur
to her side:
Reginald laughed scornfully.
“Nay, lady, if ’tis but to try the effect
of your fascination upon me, that you
have sent for me; if you have no papers
for me, I may go at once. Time, I have
seen one over whom those glances arc
powerful, but he, I hope, you will never see
again ”
“ You speak of Arthur, your brother.
Ah! Reginald Sutherland, I know you,
but you need not take your brother
away. I promise you I will see him
no more.”
“Thanks, Signora!” exclaimed Reginald
eagerly ; “for I have means of knowing
that he is completely charmed by your
beauty, and I would not see him un
happy.”
“Oh ! it is easy to give him up,”
said the Countess, and her voice was like
softest music ; “but you ! oh ! Reginald,
to give you up is death ! Will you not
reconsider the proposition I made you
when I saw you last!”
“It is impossible, Signora !” replied
Reginald, haughtily, “and I regret, deep
ly regret, that any lady should urge this
course upon me. Your pride, lady—”
“Speak not to me of pride, Reginald,”
interrupted the lady, impetuously throw
ing herself on her knees, by his side ;
“1 who never bowed to mortal before,
humbly how to you. Sec, lam at your
feet; I sue for love, Reginald; love me!”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Regie, striv
ing to lift her from her degrading position;
hut she resisted his efforts, and con
tinued :
“Listen to me, Reginald! I have
wealtli untold ; it shall all bo yours.
Oh! Reginald, never has any one loved
you as I do. Never have I loved before;
hut you I worship !”
“Wealth cannot purchase love, Sig
nora; let me lift you to your feet; this
is no fitting position for the most beauti
ful woman in Florence,” said Reginald,
trying to speak calmly.
“No! no !” cried Guilia, wildly; I will
die here if you will not love me ! Oh !
pause, Reginald, your life hangs upon
your decision ! Will you despise my
love ? Oh, love me, Reginald ; loose not
my last hold on Heaven ! save me, by the
power of your love !” %
“Did I not love another,” replied
Reginald, in an agitated voice, “your
tears would move me; hut, as 1 have
told you before, my heart has long been
another’s.”
“Then, you will not love me ?” cried
the Countess, springing to her feet; “you
will not ? Then, so be it.”
Turning from him a moment, she
hastily calmed her agitated feelings, and
when sire looked up again, her eyes were
no longer upon his face; they sought Ar
thur’s. She lifted her arm :
“Once more, Reginald!—vou will
not ?”
“I will not!” said Reginald, steadily.
“Then you shall not bless that other
with your love !”
She waved her hand, and now Arthur
springs from his concealment, the dagger
grasped in one hand, the other pressed
upon his throbbing heart.
“Strike !” she cried, in a clear, ringing
voice; but, instead of obeying her as
quickly as usual, Arthur threw himself at
her feet, and, in a voice, hoarse with
terror and anguish, cried:
“Have mercy upon me, Guilia. it is my
brother! Oh! Guilia, do not require
this of me. Reginald! I am mad!—
quick, seize me, ere I am completely in
this demon’s power, and she forces me to
do a deed that maddens my brain, and
thrills my soul with horror! Oh! Regie,
my brother, save me !”
Reginald sprang to his feet, surprise,
anger, and horror, depicted upon his
changing features.
At the same moment, the Countess
grasped Arthur’s hand, whispering, “Our
bridal! Arthur,” and the unhappy man
rushed forward, with the golden-hilted
dagger lifted in his hand.
“My brother!” Regie’s voice was
sweet and solemn in its sadness ; “my
brother, is the love of years to be dissipat
ed by a word from the lips of this en
chantress ?”
Arthur stopped short, and again that
wailing cry rang out upon the air :
“Oh, Regie, save me! my will is not
my own ; oh ! my brother, my brother !”
The dagger fell from his hand, and, with
that last wailing cry, “my brother,” Ar
thur’s overstrained nerves gave way,
and he fell, senseless, into Reginald’s out
stretched arms. The paleness of deatli
overspread his features, the lids closed
over the wild blue eyes.
Guilia was totally unprepared for this;
aghast at the total failure of her plans;
terrified, perhaps, by the wrathful glances
of Reginald, her presence of mind, for a
moment, forsook her, and she sank pale
and trembling into a chair.
“Treachery!” shouted Reginald, and, iu
a moment, the door swungopen ; Marma
duke strode in, with hasty steps. For an
instant, his eyes rested upon Reginald,
who was still supporting the senseless
form of his brother in his arms, and then
his glance fell upon Guilia. A quick
flushing of the face, and he fell a step
hack, exclaiming :
“Magholia Dolenti!!”
Regie nearly let Arthur fall, so struck
was lie by his brother’s exclamation; but,
ere we have time t 6 write it, the Countess
was on her feet, and flying through the
doorway.
“Never heed her now, brother,” gasped
Regie; “see, here is Arthur, where we
least expected to find him. Pray Heaven
he may not have lost his reason !”
Marmaduke lifted Arthur in his arms,,
and descended the stairs, followed by
Reginald. A carriage, belonging to one
of the guests, was standing in front of the
house, .and, for a golden piece, the driver
was easily persuaded to convey the trio
to their hotel. While in the carriage,
Reginald related to Marmaduke how
nearly his life had been sacrificed by his
brother’s hand, and inquired if the
Countess Guilia, of Ravenna, was indeed
the Magnolia Dolenti, who, years before,
had plunged their family in deepest dis
tress ?
“It is she, indeed’” replied Marma
duke, and we must secure her at all
hazards. Arthur seems to be suffering
very much, and, doubtless, the intolerable
heat adds to his distress.”
l( . at the sky!” exclaimed Regie,
it is almost blood red ; surely there will
be an awful storm.”
“Or worse !” said Marmaduke, lifting
Arthur from the carriage, as it drew up
at the door of their hotel.
As he placed Arthur on his bed, the*
poor boy cried wildly : “Take me away
trom her, Regie! take me away !” and
then lapsed into insensibility.
“This is growing serious !” said Mar
maduke, anxiously, and quickly baring'
the arm that hung helplessly over the
side of the couch, he took a small knife
from his pocket, and opened a vein.
Slowly, at first, drop by drop, the blood
lell into the basin, but, as it flowed more
freely, Arthur again languidly opened his
eyes.
At this instant, a roar as of a thousand
cannon, broke upon the awful stillness
that was brooding over the earth, and the
house, rocking to its very foundations,
threw the three brothers prostrate upon
the floor. In a few moments, the motion
ceased, and, Marmaduke, regaining his
feet, hastily bound up Arthur’s bleeding
arm.
“It is an earthquake!” gasped Regi
nald, binding his handkerchief around his
temple, from which the blood was flowing
freely; “what an awful stillness!” but,
even while he spoke, the stillness was
again broken by an awful roar, not a
roar like thunder, but a hollow bellowing,
as of earth in anguish.
Louder, and nearer, it seemed to come;
the house rocked ami trembled, as though
about to fall: the room was filled with a
fine dust that nearly choked the occupants;
while still that terrible roar was heard
through the still more terrible stillness,
while a loud crash, every few moments,
gave notice of a falling house, which
would sometimes be accompanied by
screams of mortal agony. For nearly
two hours, this continued, and then it
passed gradually away.
As soon as he was able to keep his
feet, Regie left the room to search for his
brother and cousins. With difficulty, he
made his way to their sitting room, where
he found them surrounded by the plaster
ing that had fallen from the ceiling, and
the pictures which had been hurled from
their places, and were now lying, broken
and ruined, upon the floor.
Eugenia sprang to Regie’s side, and,
grasping his arm, asked, in a terrified
voice, if he was hurt ?
“Only a little,” he answered, drawing
her still nearer to his side.
“And where is ’Duke ?” asked Or
mand.
No. 28.
