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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.