Newspaper Page Text
VOL. I.
[For the Banner of the South.]
Virginia.
Why do I love thee, land of my birth ?
How can I recount all thy charms,
Virginia, inyMother, in this dread hour
The victim of matricide arms!
Glance at thy record; nowhere a blot
In thy whole volume of glory;
At thy once happy fields; and every one
.Is famous in legend and story.
Think of thy heroes, Nature’s own pride,
Thy Washington. Jackson, and Lee.
And thousands immortal, mountains oi slain
Who died their loved mother to free.
Thy lovely daughters have ever been
Bless’d Angels of Honor and Right;
Their voices are echoes of heavenly strains,
And their eyes, heaven s fountains of light;
Vieing in purity, faith, and truth,
With Angels of brightness above —
In patience, beauty, and honor’s bright ways,
In modesty, virtue, and love.
Thou, tender Mother, was erst as fair
Asa poet’s dream of Heaven,
Till foemen came and, with murderous hand
Committed the wrongs u nshriven.
They stripped thee of Nature’s garments bright
With iron wrote “Shame” on thy brow;
Thy mansions and temples so grand and fair
Are but 'desolate ruins now.
Their efforts have failed; and on thy brow,
Where “Shame” they essayed to burn,
Will cluster jewels and priceless gems—
And the brand into “Glory” turn.
1 L>ve thee, then, for thy blessed name,
Thy withering scorn of thy loop,
Thy glorious history—never to die—
But above all th*se, for thy Woes!
Written for the Banner of the South.
The Countess of Clare.
A SEQUEL TO
‘■THE EARLS OF SUTHERLAND.’
EY RUTH FAIRFAX.
[continued.]
CHAPTER IX.
The chin days of November had
come, and still the young King came
not. The Lari of Mar had used every
means in his power to forward the cause
of the Chevalier, and now, after many
successes and defeats, he was preparing
for a grand decisive battle. The Earl
or Surrey and his followers were notified
to meet the main body of the insurgent
army at Anchterarder on the tenth dav
of November.
Two whole months had de Vere spent
in the home of the Earl of Surrey, and
still his secret was safe.
And now a.’! was in readiness for
their departure, and the young Reginald
couid scarcely be reconciled to the depart
tire of his friend.
( orne and beg mamma to let me go
w /ii you, she wi;] surely let me if you
a / & aei Y he was pleading earnestly with
de Vere.
. * as ’ K her, Reginald, but do not
hope she will consent.”
t . n ow, then/' urged the impa
boy, and he led de Vere to
// mc *-her s parior. In all these long
!//' /g friendship had been gradual
ly between the Countess of
a pd the Count de Yere, so with a
tt welcome she bade him be seated
*hen h e entered her room.
~. become a beggar,” said de Vere,
Reginald stood near him in eager
expectation.
Asa beggar, Count? What have I
uai you can wish fur ?”
( ,? r our hoy!” answered de Yere.
v * - v son - do you mean, Count,
‘ ar , e sure ’J not asking me to let him
go with you to the army ?”
hrw'*'/'•' Ja ” e :s !2 \ anima ; you have no idea
UffiVVVT is T have “ego with
Y* .- ,je xrn. taue good care of me; you
‘ /" now muen he loves me, or
‘" / xx'uuld not hesitate!”
r> i •■'■t doubt his kind care, but oh 1
r-LUa, i cannot part with you!”
v.] : °r a -ittle while mamma,”
* ’ *he boy, taking tier hand.
;h.V" riU he shall be more precious to me
; n V/Yf ‘/ vn hfe/' -aid de Vere, clasp
- other hand.
“I doubt it not, my lord,” answered
the Countess; “and yet, how can I let
him go ? My sisters have many to love
them; Reginald is ail I have.”
“And Reginald loves you with all his
soul?” cried de Yere, impetuously.
“I believe he does,” replied Eugenia;
“and you, also, seem to believe ; yes, he
loves me, and therefore do not ask me to
let him go. Oh! Count, if you could
but know how I love my son! Mine is
no ordinary affection. I loved my hus
band, nay I idolized him ; he never saw
this dear son, and because he bears his
father’s name and face he is very, very
dear to me!”
“I meant not to distress you dear
lady, said, kneeling by her side; “my
Jove for your boy is scarcely less than
your own, would that you knew me well
enough to trust him with me.”
“Oh! believe I do trust you; it is not
that, it is but my unselfish love. I do
love hirn so Count—and he is all I have!”
“Because, doubtless, you have' closed
your heart to all other love ; is it not so,
Lady Eugenia ?” asked de Vere in a low
voice.
‘ A es, I have been selfish, no doubt,
but I have been unconsciously so. When
I lost my Reginald all the world grew
uark to me, and the only ray of light that
beamed on my lonely way was the smile
of my son.”
/‘You still mourn your lost Reginald ?”
said de Vere; “you must have loved him
truly.”
“Love him! oh ! yes! but, Count, you
do not know all. He left me in anger,
: and I never saw him again; for this do I
mourn.”
“Rut, surely, you cannot reproach your
self ?”
“Hush!” exclaimed the Countess;
j “speak of it no more!”
“And you have closed your heart to
all other love because you have lost your
first one ? ’ asked de Yere, tremulously.
“My heart is as cold as ice,” replied
Eugenia.
“And no one could ever replace your
lost idol in your heart ?”
“Why question me thus, nay lord ?”
Reginald let his mother’s hand fall and
de Vere instantly clasped it in his.
“I question you, lady Eugenia, because
I would know if there is any hope for me;
becau.se with my whole heart I love you,
and could gaze forever on your beauty!”
“Beauty!” echoed Eugenia, rising
from her chair; “what beauty I ever had
■ lias faded beside my husband’s grave.
| Look at these white hairs, my lord, they
; faded from the darkest brown to this color
jin one night. The agony of my soul
| caused this; think then ir ray lost love
; can ever be forgotten !”
With clasped hands and eager eyes the
young lad looked upon this scene, joyful
surprise depicted in every feature.
“I do not ask you to forget him, but
look upon me, Eugenia, look upon me,
and say if it is impossible for you to love
me!’’ cried de Vere, still clasping her
hands in his.
“I have looked upon you, my lord,
and your face is very pleasant to me.”
“Then you do not find me repulsive ?”
interrupted de Yere, eagerly; “you say
my face is pleasant to your eyes ?”
‘ Only because it is like my Regi
nald’s,” said Eugenia.
“I care not why, so that it is pleasant,”
said de \ ere, smiling, and moving so as
to face her, for she had turned away;
“looit at me once more, lady Eugenia, and
tell me if there is no hope,”
“I could almost fancy that ’twas Regi
nald himself who spoke, ’ murmurred
Eugenia, as she gazed into the bright
eyes be fete her.
“Fancy that it is himself, dear lady,
anu speajT to me even as you would to
him,” said the Count.
‘ Nay, nay, I would be loved for mv
! self alone, and not for the memory of
j another,” said Eugenia.
: “But lam willing that you should love
me .or that reason, or any other, or that
AUGUSTA, GA, FEBRUARY *27, 1860.
you will but love me,” said de Yere anx
iously.
“I cannot love! ’ said Eugenia, turning
away.
“Oh! mamma! do not say that!”
eried Reginald, in great distress; “I am
sure the Count loves you, and you could
love hirn too, if you were to try.”
“See, even Reginald pleads for me ;
listen to me lady Eugenia,” cried de Vere,
still clinging to her hand; “I do love
you truly and devotedly; will you not
give me at least a shadow of hope ?”
The Count was sneaking now in his
own natural tone, and the heart of Eu
genia thrilled to its every sound.
“Frankly, my lord,” she said; “I care
much for you, and, were it not for the
memory of my Reginald, I could love
you, but—”
De Vere laid his arm softly around
her waist, and drew her to his side. The
soft, snowy curls fell around her like a
bridal veil, and her starry eyes looked
up into de Vere’s.
“Can you not love me without sacri
ficing that memory?”
He bent over her; the bright crimson
rushed to her cheek, as his lips fell softly
upon her own; she murmurred one word,
Twas—
“ Reginald !”
“Ah! 5 exclaimed de Vere, starting
back.
“Forgive me, my lord?” cried Eugenia
springing away from de Vere’s side; “I
nave wounded your feelings ; believe me
it was unintentional! 1 did think for
one moment that I loved you, but Twas
only the memory of the past that was
dear to me. Oh, pardon me, Count!”
“And you do not love me, you have
not the least affection for de Vere?”
asked the Count, breathlessly.
“I cannot love you,” murmurred Eu
genia.
“Pardon me then for distressing you,
lady, said de Yere in a voice inexpressi
bly mournful, pardon me, and I will never
offend again.”
“You have not offended me, my lord;
let us be friends as before, and in token
of my confidence I well place my son in
your care. Take him with you Count de
\ ere, and remember he is my only one!”
“I will die ere harm shall come near
him,” replied the Count impressively.
“And I am to go with the Count !”
cried Reginald, throwing himself into his
mother’s arms; “but, oh! mmama, why
wont you love him!”
“I cannot!” murmurred Eugenia; “go
now, with the Count, my son ; I would
be alone.”
They closed the door after them, and
Eugenia threw herself upen the sofa.
Hark !.
“Oh ! Reginald, my lost love, forg’ve
me if my heart has for one moment wan
dered from its allegiance to thy memory;
oh! pardon me, my Reginald, it is, I
Know it is, because he is like thee, and I
love him !”
The next morning the Earl left for the
seat of war.
CHAPTER X.
On the morning of the 13th of Novem
ber the insurgent army drew up in line
of battle on a wide open plain. Seated
on his favorite black horse, the Earl of
Mar made a most animating speech,
which was received with wild cheers by
the Highlanders. The right of Mar’s
line was formed of the Mac Donalds,
Mac Leans, and Sutherlands, with their
followers. Raymond rode on the right
of de A ere, Reginald on the left. ’Duke,
with Mac Donald and Arthur Sutherland,
were behind him, and Sir John Mac
Donald, who here held supreme com
mand, was just in front of them.
“Gentlemen !” cried Mac Lean, waiving
his bonnet over his head; “gentlemen,
this is a day we have long wished to see.
Yonder stands Mac Callum More for King
George.; here stands Mac Lean for King
Janies. God bless Mac Lean ! Charge!
gentlemen!”
His voice rang like a trumpet. Draw
ing their bonnets over their brows, and
casting aside their plaids the Highlanders
rushed forward, firing their fusees, then,
dropping them and drawing their swords
they united in one wild yell, and dashed
upon the enemy. They were received
with a terrible fire, and many of the best
and bravest fell. For one moment the
Scots wavered, when dashing his plumed
bonnet from his brow, and waiving his
sword around his head, Raymond dashed
forward.
“ To-morrow we will mourn our
frends," he cried; “to-day let us avenge
them ! ’
With one wild cheer, they rallied, and
led on by the youthful hero, who looked
lixe an avenging angel, they fell with re
sistless force upon the enemy, who fled
before them!”
Ah ! well had it been for the young
King had the left of Mar’s line been as
valiantly led on. They rushed on as
fiercely and were, also, received with a
galling lire. Like the others, they waver
ed a moment,but, alas! unlike the others,
no Raymond of Sutherland rushed to
the rescue, and they were lost; the halt
became a retreat, the retreat a rout;
they fled in wild confusion!
The left of both armies were broken
and flying, the right of both victorious.
The victorious Highlanders cut their wav
entirely through the approaching army
and drew up on a slight eminence beyond.
“Let us not stand here!” exclatmed
Mar, turning to one of the Chiefs who had
the largest number of men under his
command ; “give forth your war cry, and
order your men to charge, Mac Fherson.”
“If they will not do it without me,
they will not do it with me,” said Mac
Pherson, turning away.
• What in the devil’s name do you
mean?” roared Mar; “order your men
to charge, sir!”
“Order them yourself,” answered Mac-
Pherson.
“They will not obey me; they are all
your ow t h clan.”
“So much the worse!’’ replied Mac
Pherson, coolly walking away.
“Here is a grand coward!” shouted
Mar, exasperated beyond measure.
“Coward to yourself, and if you are no
satisfied I will e’en take myself over to
the Duke of Argyle.”
It had been well for the rebellious
Chief had he waited until he got farther
away; as it was, he stood too near Ray
mond for his own welfare.
“You, at least will, not lead your men
over to the enemy,” cried Raymond, lift
ing his sword; “defend yourself, sir!”
“Not so,”interposed de Vere; “we have
the enemy before us, and need not fight
each other.*’
“But he is a traitor, de Yere, and his
death would be of service to our cause!”
cried Raymond, hotly.
Without a word, Arthur Mac Donald
lifted hiss word with both hands, and it fell
with a crashing blow upon the head of
the traitorous Chief.
“The Duke of Argyle is returning,”
said de Vere to Mar; “and if we keep
this position we will soon be surrounded.”
“Let us charge through them, we arc
already cut off," answered Mar; and the
order was given and obeyed. Once
more the brave Highlanders rushed for
ward; again, as before, Raymond was
foremost in the fight. Suddenly, he
paused: his cousin Reginald had fallen
at Lis side, and, utterly regardless of his
own life, de Yere was bending over him.
“On! on!” cried ’Duke, lifting the lad
in his arms; “on ! or we will be taken
prisoners!”
Mar retired to Perth, and thus ended
the battle of Sheriffmuir, leaving the in
surgents in a more unfavorable position
than they were before. Mar, as we have ;
said, went to Perth, but, alas! some of i
our friends were taken prisoners; de Vere, j
with Reginald, fell into their hands, and ;
were sent with Lord Derwentwater, who, I
had also been captured, to London, where
they were lodged in close prisons.
Reginald’s wound soon healed; but it
needed all the kindness of de Vere to re
concile him to his gloomy abode. The
Spring crept on apace, and still there
was no hope of release. The brave Earl
of Derwentwater bad indeed been re
leased, but how ? He had been taken
from the prison to the scaffold, where he
sealed his faith with his life.
“This will not do, Reginald, my boy,”
said de Vere, one evening ; “ever since
I have heard that our friends are in the
city I have been seeking lor a means of
escape. I have decided.”
“What will you do, de Vere ?” asked
Reginald.
“I will try my strength on the turnkey
when ho makes the rounds to-night. I
do not like to ask it, Reginald, but will
yon give me that, silken scarf your mother
bound around your waist ?”
“I do not like to lose it, Count,” replied
Reginald; “but if it can aid us to escape,
my mother's gift will have been well
used.”
“T/nbind it!” said de Yere, hastily; “I
hear footsteps!”
Hastily thrusting it under his arm, de
Yere crept behind the door as the jailor
opened it.
“Where is your companion ?” he asked
of Reginald.
“Gone!” replied Reginald.
“Gone!” echoed tiie jailor, springing
into the room. It was his last word. Regi.
nald's fist fell like a hammer on his
ear, and he went headlong to the floor.
“Hasten! ’ cried de Yere, grasping
Reginald’s arm, and leaving the cell.
Then, locking the door, he withdrew the
keys and they soon found themselves in
the street. They had gone but a few
steps when a low voice startled them.
“Count I”
“Who speaks?” asked de Yere, push
ing Reginald behind him, and standing
on the defensive.
“Hist’speak low! 'tis I, Raymond:
we have been watching for you every
night for a month.”
“Raymond! Can it be possible?” ex
claimed de Vere, and Reginald rushed
into his cousin's arms.
They hastily passed through the quiet
streets until Raymond paused before a
house of an humble appearance.
Instead of rappiDg at the door, Ray
mond applied his lips to the keyhole and
whispered his own name. Someone
was evidenly waiting for him; the door
was instantly opened, and they hastily
entered. Ail was darkness within, nor
did they dare have a light, fearing, as
they did, that they might have been
seeD. In the dark, then, Reginald was
clasped in his mother’s arms, and in the
darK de Y ere ventured to press Eugenia
to bis bosom.
i “But you cannot stay here,” said ’Duke
j who was also in the house ; “I have been
I expecting you for seme time and have
i every thing ready for your escape to
i France.”
j But what has happened? tell me
j something,” said de Vere, anxiously.
“Everything has happened,” answered
j the Earl of Surrey; “the Chevalier Las
been here, battles have been fought, our
cause is lost, and the Chevalier has re
turned to France. ’
“Then there is nothing more here for
me to do, and, as withal, my head is in
danger, I will away at once !”
“You will not leave me, Count!” ex
claimed Reginald, catching his hand.
“Never fear, my boy: your own head
is in as great danger as his, you must go
with him/' said Duke.
“What! leave me again, so soon!” ex
claimed Eugenia, in great distress.
“You can follow him almost immedi
ately,” said ’Duke soothingly.
But why can I not go with him
urged 'Genie.
“iou might impede their flight,” an
swered Duke; “and they had better go
alone.”
into. 50.