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VOL. I.
For the Banner of the South.
Widowed.
11X OSWALD.
Vngel of innocence I
Picture of health!
Sleep on! my little one—
All mother’s wealth!
Sleep well, my darling one!
Best, while you may;
Mother is watching you,
Trying to pray.
Praying for fortitude,
Courage to bear,
Well, with this heart-rending,
Well, with this care.
On thy calm, gentle face,
Imaged, he lives;
He, who was all to me
Living might give.
Father is sleeping, eon,
Father is gone!
hying, so chilly now,
Shrouded, alone 1
Love beyond measurement,
Manhood and truth;
All are now torn from me,
Still in my youth 1
Rest! rest! my baby boy!
Mother will keep
Heart-broken o’er thee,
While you're asleep.
Written for the Banner of the South.
The Countess of Clare.
A SEQUEL TO
“THE KARLS OF SUTHERLAND.’
BY RUTII FAIRFAX.
[continued.]
CHAPTER VII.
Lady Emily Sutherland, scarcely
changed by the years that had rolled
over her head, (save that they had added
a more matronly dignity to her manner,)
Kat in her drawing* room, waiting the ap
pearance of the Count do Vere. Ray
mond leaned on the back of her chair,
and, with glowing words, described the
dignity and grace of the Count. On her
lett, sat Arthur, the son of Amy, and his
young sister, a fair maiden just in her
teens. On her right, and clasping her
hand in his sat a youth of fourteen, but
no tall was he, and so easy and graceful
in his manner, he looked scarcely less than
eighteen. Though Arthur and Raymond
wore bright colors, this dark-eyed youtli
was clad in sombre black. His dark hair
fell in heavy curls to his shoulder, and
his black eyes wore a tender melancholy
light. He listened with intense eagerness
to Raymond’s words, and looked impa
tiently towards the door. At last it was
thrown open, and 'Duke entered, accom
panied by de Vere. Emily started as
tne first tones ol his voice fell on her ear,
and gazed eagerly into his face, bat she
met there no answering look of recogni
tion, and she turned away.
“This is my son, Arthur McDonald,
die heir of Surrey,” said 'Duke, present
ing Arthur to de Vere; “and this little
lass is my daughter.”
, f ome h ere » my boy,” drawing the
nark-eyed lud towards him; “I know you
“ re burning with impatience to greet the
'bunt. Del ere, this is my nephew,
Regiuald Sutherland.”
“Reginald Sutherland!” echoed de
ore, grasping the boy’s hand; “this one,
'“on, is named for the lost brother?” He
his emotion once more.
. * es > replied Emily and her lip
quivered. “ 1
De A ere looked earnestly upon the lad,
, Uo less eagerly gazed into the mag
‘fieent eyes of the Count.
1 at raid you are a wizard, Count;
» burly bewitched these boys
th the first giance of your o ye,” said
* ukp, laughing.
i am certain he has stolen my son's
; e;u t away from me,” said Emily, look
in S fondly at Raymond.
Nay, mother, no man can do that* nor
w °ipan either,” he added, as he saw his
Lll ’ jp s mischievous smile.
lime enough, my young friend: you
"\ ! u some day,” said de Vere. ’
this moment, Arthur Sutherland
entered the room, and was presented to
de Y ere, who bowed without speaking.
Presently ’Duke invited de Vere and
Arthur to accompany him to the library.
They at once assented, and, with his
thoughts and feelings in a wHd confusion,
de\ere walked calmly by his brother’s
side.
Eugenia ! where was she ?—oh ! how
he longed to ask, and yet dared not; for
she scorned and hated him—he was dead
to them all—let it be so.
Throwing open the library door, ’Duke
bade them enter, and excused himself for
an hour or so. The brilliant lights in the
apartment dazzled their eyes for a mo
ment, coming as they did from the dim
drawing-room, and Arthur turned his
back on them.
“These lights are very brilliant, my
lord; we must need have eagle’s eyes,”
said Arthur,
Do Vere did not answer ; he unclosed
his lips; but no sound came thence.
Arthur was surprised.
“Do you find the light disagreeable ?
shall I have some of them removed ?” he
asked, going nearer to the Count.
“No,” answered de Yere;“’twas but for
a moment; my eyes are accustomed to the
light now.”
Arthur started violently and stepped
forward. The Count stood immovable—
he was on his guard now.
“What did you say ?—speak ! let me
hear the sound of your voice once more !”
gasped Arthur.
“The sound of nry voice. Sir Arthur !
It seems to move you strangely,” said
de\ r ere calmly.
“Reginald!” cried Arthur.
“Are you calling your nephew ?’’ asked
the Count.
“No, I am calling you !” said Arthur,
grasping his arm.
“Calling me, Sir Arthur ! But you
mistake my name. In France, I am
called Louis de Vere.”
“I care not what you are called in
France—in England you are called Regi
nald Sutherland,” said Arthur, in an
agitated voice.
“What terrible mistake is this ?” said
de Vere, trying to remove Arthur's hand
from his arm.
“It is no mistake!” answered Arthur,
throwing his arm around de Vere ; “you
cannot deceive me, Regie. Changed, in
deed, you are—but I recognize with joy
the brother I have mourned so long !”
“I must, indeed, strongly resemble
your lost brother to have so imposed upoD
you. If I have been the cause of renew
ing this deep grief, I regret it deeply,”
said de \ r ere, gently.
Arthur drew away from the Count for
a moment, and looked earnestly into his
face ; then clasping him again in his arms,
he smiled brightly.
“No, no, it won’t do, Regie; I will keep
your secret; but don’t try to deceive
me !”
“Arthur! my brother,” replied de
Y ere, unable to hold out any longer;
“your affection must, indeed, be all pene
trating to recognize me so readily. One
word, Arthur—Eugenia! is she living?
is she well ?”
“Living, yes—well, no. But tell me,
Regie, did you note the lad who bears
your name ?”
“1 did, indeed; he is your nephew,
consequently mine. Whose child is he ?”
“You don’t know ?”
“I can guess—it is Ormand’s.”
“Ormand’s ! Does he look like Or
rnand?”
“No; but that is nothing,” said de
Vere.
“You have guessed wrong, Regie ; he
is your own child !”
“Mine! mine!” exclaimed Regina id,
Jailing rather thau sitting upon a chair.
“Even so, Regie !” answered Arthur,
smiling through the tears that were
shining in his eyes. “You left us in May,
fourteen years ago. He will be fourteen,
next October. How time flies! Why,
Regie, we must be getting old !
GA., FEBRUARY 20, 1869.
“Let me see the boy!” murmured de
Y'ere.
“Do you wish to tell him your secret ?”
asked Arthur.
“No, for then Eugenia would know it.
Promise me, Arthur, that you will not
betray me, or I will leave the house this
instant!”
“Believe me, your secret is safe. I can
guess your reasons, and yet my brother—”
“Tell me of Eugenia,” interrupted
Reginald ; “where is she ?»’
Arthur was about to answer, when the
door opened, and the Earl of Surrey en
tered.
You will pardon me for leaving vou
so long, Count, but my sister, Emily) re
turns home to morrow, and I have been
with her,” said Duke.
“Pray make no excuses, my lord,” an
swered Reginald, turning away; “I trust
nothing disagreeable calls her away?”
“This is not her home” replied ’Duke;
“her husband, Lord Ormand, of Suther
land, is not well, and she returns to him
tomorrow. Yiu have never seen my
eldest brother, Count ?”
“What a question !” exclaimed Arthur;
•‘you forget, ’Duke, that the Count has
been here but a short time ”
“True,” replied the Earl, thoughtfully,
and looking earnestly upon Reginald, who
carelessly met his gaze, feeling, as he
did, that the safe keeping of his secret
depended upon the moment.
“Ah I” said ’Duke, with a sigh; “you
must pardon me, my lord Count—you do
so much remind me of a dear brother, that
I cannot forbear gazing upon you.”
“Y r ou flatter me, 1 ’ said de Vere, bowing.
“You would think so,” said Arthur, “if
you had ever seen my brother Reginald ;
he was the handsomest of all my broth
ers.”
“He was,” said ’Duke.
“Now, indeed, you are flattering me !”
said Regie, rising from his chair, and
Arthur laughed merrily.
“What are you laughing at, Arthur ?”
asked ’Duke, gravely.
“Noihing, nothing in the world, brother,
only at the Count’s long face,” answered
Arthur, trying to check his mirth.
“Well, I am pleased to hear your
merry laugh once more, but I fear our
friend may not like your fun, not know
ing you as well as we do.”
‘ Nay, nay,” replied Reginald, laying
his hand on Arthur’s shoulder ; “I am not
in the least offended. This merry laugh
is the pleasantest sound that has greeted
my ears for many long, weary months,
and years. lam glad that I resemble
your lost brother; I hope that it may be a
passport to your favor.”
Regie paused a moment to steady his
voice, and then asked :
“Was this brother married ?”
“Yes,” answered ’Duke ; “he married
my wife’s sister, the most beautiful
woman I ever saw.”
“You are not a Scotchman, my lord,
and yet I find you all enlisted in Scot
land’s cause. How is this ?” asked de
\ r ere.
“We consider the Chevalier de St.
George our lawful sovereign ” replied
’Duke, “and we are a loval people,
Count.”
“I have heard the King of France
mention your name; indeed, he bade me
seek the Sutherlands, and declared that l
might safely trust the King’s life in your
hands !” said de Y ere.
“I am pleased to hear that Louis of
France thought so well of us. I fear his
death will prove a great misfortune to our
cause.”
“Your fears are not without founda
tion,” answered de YYre; “we will be
forced to trust to our own wit and
strength.”
“If we only had Reginald here !” ex
claimed Arthur
“This Reginald seems to have been a
model of perfection,” said de Vere,
smiling.
“We thought him so,” answered’Duke.
“And where is his wife ?” asked de
Vere, calming his voice with a great
effort.
Blit fate was adverse. Before ’Duke
could answer the question, the door was
thrown open, and Raymond, accompanied
t>3 7 Arthur McDonald and Reginald Suth
erland, entered the room.
We could bear it no loeger, uncle,”
said Raymond, in an entreating tone of
voice; “you must excuse me, but you
took away the Count before we could half
look at him !”
“You are quite welcome Ray,and Ido
not wonder that you seek the Count; but
it is something new to see Reginald court
the company of a stranger.”
Reginald lifted his large, dark eyes to
the Count’s face, and murmured, in a low
melodious voice :
“There is something in the Count’s’
face that is peculiarly fascinating to me.!’
“If you were a young girl, I sliould
say you were in love with the Count ?”
cried Arthur, laughing.
“I wish I was a girl !” said Reginald;
then, perhaps, the Count might love
me!"
“Hear him !” exclaimed Raymond, and
then they all laughed at the boy. who was
evidently wondering at their mirth. De
\ ere could scarcely refrain from clasping
the youth in his arms,yet he commanded
himself with rare self-control, and taking
Reginald’s hand, drew him to his side.
‘Be satisfied, Reginald !” he murmured
softly; “I can love you better as it is; no
woman can ever win my heart, but i/ou
shall have a place in it!”
Reginald bent his head and pressed his
lips to de Vere’s hand ; tears sparkled in
his eyes as he looked in the Count's
face.
“You are enthusiastic, my boy,” said
de Ye re, resting his hand on Reginald’s
head.
“And hasn’t he got a temper 1” ex
claimed Arthur McDonald, laughing
‘ Temper !” repeated Raymond, “why,
cousin Arthur, how dare you talk of
temper ? you could cat anybody when you
get angry.”
“Granted !” said Arthur ; “ but that
comes of my hot Highland blood. I can’t
help it.”
‘A ou are not a bit like your mother,”
said 'Duke, gazing wistfully upon the
boy.
“No ! I have been told that 1 am like
my father !” answered Arthur, with the
fiery glance of a young eagle.
“Nay’, your father did not possess that
haughty spirit, Arthur. You are like
him in form only ” said ’Duke, gently.
“Well, then, 1 am like my haughty old
grandfather, the old Chief of Glencoe !”
replied Arthur, proudly.
“And more like your Aunt Eugenia,”
said ’Duke, with a little sigh, lie is a
proud boy, Count.”
“He is not your own son, then ?”
asked de Yere, feeling that he must say
something
“No, my step-son ; but he is m v heir,
and will bear my name.”
Arthur turned away with a look that
plainly declared, “1 will not relinquish
my father’s name for the proudest title in
the world.”
’Duke saw the look, and hastily added:
“That is, he will bear my name, if he
wishes it.”
This was not the first time Arthur had
shown his reluctance to resign his father’s
name, but never so plainly.
CHAPTER VIII.
And so the day.* wore away* in anxious
expectation Do Yere was still an inmate
ot Surrey House, but he bad not yet seen
the mother of Reginald, nor had her name
been mentioned by any of the family.
Rfginald still kept near the Count,
whose affection for him seemed increas
ing. One bright and mellow afternoon
the Count, with his young favorite, were
walking m ar the bank of the river, They
were not eouversing, but merely walking
slowly along, the small brown hand of
Reginald clasped in the Count’s.
“We had better return, the hour grows
late,” said de Vere, at last. “See, the
sun is going fast, and you are not looking
well, Reginald.”
“You are very careful, Count; I be
lieve you do love me,” said Reginald,
looking into the Count’s eyes.
“Believe it, indeed,” said de Yore ;
“for it is true. Ido love you, Reginald,
and often I have wished—-”
“What did you wish, Count ?”
“ 1 bat I had someone to love me,” said
de Vere, sadly.
“You have, for I love you !” cried
Reginald : “but you are so grave and sad,
Count, I scarcely dare tell you so.”
“Y ou are not used to such grave coun
tenances, Reginald, and yet, truth to tell,
your own face is somewhat sad,” said de
Vere.
“Oh ! yes, mama’s face is very sad, and
I do not feel like laughing when I am
with her*”
‘’Where is your mama, Reginald?”
Little did the boy dream of the effort it
cost de Vere to ask the simple question.
“Mama is in the house,” replied Regi
nald.
“Ihave never seen her,” said de Vere.
“No, you have never seen her, but you
shall see her, Count. She never receives
visitors, hut I am sure she will not refuse
to see my friend ”
“Do not ask her, if it will be disagree
able,” said de Vere in a low tone.
“Oh ! but she will mind. I have told
her how good you are to me, and she said
she would like to see you,” answered
Reginald eagerly. “Come, Count, to her
parlor, and see her !”
“Not until you have firs! asked her
permission,” answered de Vere ; “here
wo are at home; go ask her, Reginald,
and, if she consents, come to my room
for me.”
Reginald needed no second bidding,
and do Y r ere, our Reginald, retired to his
room. There, every feature was schooled
into subjection, every feeling put aside
with an iron hand, and when Reginald
came for him, his face was calm, and a
smile of courtly grace rested on his lips.
“Mama will see you,” cried the delight-
ed boy. “Come, Count, she is waiting
for us.”
Through the long corridors, up the
broad stone steps, and the pair paused
before a small door.
“I would Lave knocked, but mama ex
pects us,” said Reginald, opening the
door. De Yere looked calmly forward.
He saw not the furniture : he could not
have told, had it been to save his life,
what was in the room. lie saw only a
lady sitting in a high-backed chair, her
long robes of sable draping her magnifi
cent form; a hand, of ivory whiteness, ex
tended towards him in friendly greeting;
a pair of eyes, sparkling as stars, fixed
upon him; a pure, colorless face: and a
cloud of snow-white hair falling in heavy
curls to the rounded waist.
“Not Eugenia!” lie moaned in his
heart.
“Mama, allow me to present to you my
kind friend, the Count de Yere. Count,
the Lady Eugenia, Countess of Clare !”
“The Count’s name has become a
household word with my son,” said the
Countess, rising; “and 1 trust, my lord,
you will not feel offended that I have
been so tardy in greeting you.’
The Count bent over her hand.
“Your son has already told me that
vou never receive visitors ; therefore, in
stead of being offended because of my late
reception, 1 am honored by being admitted
to your presence at all !”
The Count’s tones were calm and even,
yet, at the sound of his voice, the Countess
threw back her head, a startled look
flashed into her eyes, and she pressed her
hand to her bosom. Beautiful, grandly
beautiful, was tbe Countess of Clare, and
though her cheek was clear aid colorless
as the purest marble—though the whole
mass of her magnificent hair w as white as
the brightest silver, without one dark
thread to mar the purity of it* color—ye
N*o. -49.
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