AOL. I.
[For the Banner of the South.]
The Mother's Teaching.
BY OSWALD.
A thousand niilea from childhood’s home,
To which my heart doth ever roam,
From which my fondest memories come.
I sat in a Church to-day,
And as I heard the organ’s peal.
And saw the many pleader s kneel
In supplication for the weal;
I, too, knelt down to pray.
A little hymn I used to know,
Taught by mother—long ago—
Fell, mellowing all the air below,
From out the choir above;
And as it ceased, I wandered back
Across my manhood’s desert track ;
And, as my sins rose, deep and black,
To pray, in vain I strove.
The man of God rose up and spoke,
His holy words a hope awoke,
The bonds of foul Despair were broke;
I tried to pray again.
Then, feelings that had long been dead,
Came back, and as I bowed my head,
A something, from within me, said
“Thou hast not prayed in vain.’*
Then came a strange and quiet joy,
That earthly might ne’er destroy;
I was again a guileless boy,
Upon my mother’s knee.
My mother! in declining age,
Let this one thought thy griefs assuage;
That, in the midst of passion 's rage,
Thy boy came back to thee.
Came back to thee, in earnest prayer,
Came, bearing a repentant tear;
Came back io thee, my mother dear!
With chastened soul, thy boy 1
Oil! tliou, who taught my mother’s heart
Her prayerful lessons to impart;
That thus in life mine evils thwart,
Oh! grant her peace and joy.
Written for the Banner of the Souflh.
The Countess of Clare.
A SEQUEL TO
“THE EARLS OF SUTHERLAND.”
IV RUTH FAIRFAX.
[concluded ]
CHAFTER XIII.
The apartment over the marble hall
was the one occupied by the Countess
de Vere. The floor was covered by a
silken carpet, white with crimson flowers
scattered over it. The walls were hung
with pale pink silk, and the window cur
tains were of heavy white satin, edged
with a heavy silk fringe; the bar that
supported them was of silver, elaborately
carved, and misty white lace fell over
them. At one end of the room was a low’,
broad couch, the upper covering of white
silk, edged with fringe, swept the floor.
Suspended by almost invisible cords from
the ceiling, a snow-white dove supported,
on its outspread wings, a cloud of white
and pink lace, that fell like the rosy mists
of morning over the couch beneath. A
small table, with marble top and silver
feet, supported a vase of rare flowers.
Chairs, of graceful shape, were scattered
around, and on one of them sat Eugenia.
Her rich bridal attire had beeD laid aside,
aud a soft white muslin replaced the rich
lace. Her lips and cheeks are very pale;
she supports her head with one hand, and
that hand is as cold as ice. In her other
hand she clasps something that she has
been pressing to her heart. Scarcely
two hours have passed since she became
Countess de Vere, and now she sits there
awaiting her husband with a melancholy,
almost wild expression of eye, ill-befitting
a bride. He comes softly in; she is
buried in thought, and does* not see him;
he bends over her, and a light kiss falls
on her cheek. Starting to her feet, Eu
genia looked up in his face. Startled
from her reverie, her mind full of but
one thought, she saw de Vere, with his
Ung black hair curling on his shoulders,
juid the dark moustache shading his
handsome mouth; and, reaching forth her
hand, she murmured—
“ Reginald !”
He Vere started back, the crimson
>*ood rushed to his cheek, and his eyes
sparkled.
Eugenia misinterpreted his emotion,
:i ud throwing herself at his feet, she
cried:
‘ rorgive me, oh ! forgive me ! I have
wronged yon! I have deceived myself
and you !”
“I have nothing to forgive !” said
de Vere, lifting her in his arms; “you
are agitated, over-excited, my love; rest
here, and calm yourself; there, rest your
head on my bosom !”—his lips almost
touched her ear as he whispered—“my
wife !”
“Oh ! no, no, not that name from you;
call me Eugenia, but not that !” she
cried, tearing herself away from his em
brace.
“Rut why should I not call you by that
dear name, when it is my right ?” asked
de Vere.
“Another has called me by that
name !”
“I am not jealous of the dead, Eu
genia,” said the Count, taking her hand;
“and let us speak no more of Reginald—
we will forget him—”
“Ah !” interrupted Eugenia; “youtold
me you would not ask me to forget him/’
“Nor will I/'replied de Vere, tenderly;
“but tell me, dearest, what it is you are
clasping in this hand so closely ?”
“Oh! no!” said ’Genie, trying to re
move de Yere’s hand from hers.
“But, oh ! yes, you will let me see it,”
answered de Vere, opening her hand;
a curl of raven black hair fell to the
floor.
“Good Heavens ! what is this ?” he ex
claimed in astonishment.
“Oh! Count de Vere, listen tome!”
said Eugenia, clasping his hand, and with
downcast eyes, “listen to me, while I
tell you the truth. I have greatly wronged
and deceived you, but I have deceived
myself as well. This curl is my Regi
nald’s. I have told you t..at I love you.
I do; but, alas ! it is only the likeness of
my Reginald that I love. Just now,
when you called me wife, my heart re
belled, and refused to hear or acknowledge
the name from other lips than those of
Reginald. I thought ’tvvas you I loved,
but I deceived myself, and ’tisonly when
for a moment I imagine that you are
Regie, that I wish to clasp you to my
heart! I loved him, Count, as woman
never loved before. I have mourned for
him, as one without hope, aud now when
I feel your kiss upon my lips, the name
of Reginald is in my heart ! Oh ! good
and noble heart, how dare I ask you to
forgive me !”
“What have you said ?” gasped de
j Vere; “do you tell me that you loved
Reginald Sutherland with all the strength
of your woman’s heart ? Do you tell me
’twas sorrow for his death, and remorse
for your unkindness that blanched your
hair and sent the color from your cheek ?
Do you tell me that you love me only
because I look like him ? Answer me,
Eugenia ?”
De Vere was quivering like an aspen
leaf.
“Oh ! forgive me, my lord, it is only
too true! gasped Eugenia.
“Do you tell me that if Reginald
Sutherland were to enter this room, you
would fly to his arms. Do you tell me
this, Countess de Vere ?”
“Not to his arras, Count; no, I would
first throw myself at his feet, and ask him
to forgive my past unkindness, and then,
perhaps, he might once more—” She
paused.
“Once more ! Go on, Eugenia; what
were you going to say ? Remember, for
the sake of our future happiness, there
must be no concealments here to-night.
Spare not my feelings, nor your own.”
“I would have said, he might love me
once more,” said ’Genie, in a low tone.
“And his image separates us !” said
de Vere; “butyou do not look at me,
Eugenia; _ why is this ? Answer me,
dear ’Genie. I would know every thought
of your heart to-night.”
“I do not k ok at you, because, when I
do, your lace is so like his, I cannot help
but love you ; and when I remember
that you are indeed another, my heart
shrinks from you,” answered ’Genie.
! ‘ls that truth ?” cried de Vere in
I great agitation ; before Heaven are vou
speaking truth, Eugenia ?”
-A.TJGUSHLA, MARCH 13, 1869.
“It is truth,” murmured ’Genie.
“Look into my eyes, and tell me so !”
said de Vere, holding both her hands
tightly in his own.
Eugenia slowly lifted her head until
her eyes met de Vere’s; she noted the
long, curling hair, the shaded lip, and she
saw that he was smiling.
“What means this, my lord?” she
stammered; “do you seek to win my
heart by making yourself as much like
Reginald as possible ?”
“ You have turned away your eyes
again, Genie; look steadily upon me, and
tell me that you loved Reginald Suther
land !”
“I did—l do still-more than life, than
honor; I had almost said, more than
Heaven.”
“Eugenia !”
She looked up quickly; there was a
joyous ring* in his voice that startled her.
She gazed into his eyes. There was the
old familiar look she had seen in Regi
nald’s, so often.
“Eugenia ! my love, is it possible ?
Look at me !” he caught her in his arms ;
“look closely into my eyes, and tell me
if you do not recognize your own dear
Reginald !”
“Count de Vere, what cruel jest is
this ?” gasped Eugenia.
“His no jest. lam, indeed,Reginald.
I hoped to win your love as de Vere; for
I thought not I had .v m the years gone
by. Oh ! well do 1 remember your"last
words. You said, fTlave you finished,
Sir?” My wife, look into my eyes!”
She did look into his eyes; aye ! with
an intensity of love in her gaze that he
had never seen there before. She knew
him now, and within his encircling arms
she rested, with a fullness of joy that
seldom falls to the lot of mortals. * Hour
after hour passed away, and still they sat
there. Explanations were made over
and over again, and their lips never tired
of repeating the tale of love prompted by
their hearts. So absorbed were they that
the rising sun, peeping in the window
first made them aware that they had
sat up all night.
“Let me call Reginald,” said ’Genie ;
“he loves you so dearly as Count de Vere;
how will he worship you as his own
father, Reginald Sutherland. Ah ! Regie,
I have often wondered why you loved
that boy so dearly—the mystery is now
explained.”
“I have nearly betrayed myself several
times, but I so feared you would not love
me, I was determined to keep my secret
at all hazards.”
“You thought I did not love you, when
my every thought has been yours! But
listen, ’Regie, we are called. Let me
make my morning toilet, and we will go
down together.”
Eugenia spent no unnecessary time
before her mirror that morning, yet
radiantly beautiful she appeared, the
very soul of love and joy to the group as
sembled in the breaktast room.
“You have told her, Reginald !” shout
ed Arthur, springing from his seat as
soon as he saw ’Genie’s face.
“He may well say Reginald,” said
Ormand ; “for I never saw such a like
ness in my life.”
One glance at ’Genie’s face, and Ar
thur’s exclamation was enough for Emily.
Throwing her arms around Regie’s neck,
she exclaimed :
“It is, indeed, Reginald ! Oh ! how
have I been so blinded ?
“You call him Reginald ! Is he, in
deed, my own father ?” said Eugenia’s
son, almost falling at his father’s feet.
“You are my own child J” answered
Count de Vere, or as we shall hereafter
call him, the Earl of Clare, and pressing
Reginald to his bosom, he extended his
other hand to Ormard.
Draw we a veil over this sacred re
union, of hearts as well as hands.
CHAPTER XIV
Each morning that dawned came with
a bright promise of happiness, and every
evening closed with the fulfillment of a
sweet hope. The days chased each other
into the Past, and the Future still pre
sented the most joyous treasures of Love
and Hope, “made perfect through suffer
ing.” Reginald and Eugenia had suf
fered most fearfully, and now they
guarded with most jealous care the
precious boon of Love that had come to
them at last. Would you, then, ask me
if I have at last found a home of perfect
happiness? Are you flattering yourselves
with the thought that there is no discord
ant note to mar the harmony of “Suther
land ?” Learn that there is no perfect
happiness in this world. Know that the
bright phantom vanishes at the moment
we are smilingly assuring ourselves that
we have clasped it at last.
And so it was with Eugenia and Regi
nald.
The Chevalier de St, George called on
the Earl of Clare to come once more to
his aid. lie knew him now as one of
those Sutherlands in whose hands the
King of France declared himself willing*
to trust his life and honor.
The Chevalier had determined to get
married, and the dazzling pretensions to
the Crown of England won the heart of
the Princess Clementina of Poland. It
was absolutely necessary that the mar
riage should be contracted privately, and
the Princess, with a small retinue, started
for Bologna. But, alas ! for their plans,
the intrigue was discovered, and as the
bride passed through Inspruck, in the
Tyrol, she was arrested, and, with her
mother, kept close prisoner. Her unfor
tunate .father, James Sabieski was de
prived of his government of Augsburg,
and imprisoned. The Chevalier chafed
and fretted, and while forming a thou
sand plans for the relea.se of his intended
bride, was suddenly called away to Spain;
the most alluring pictures were held up
to his view, and he might not delay.
Where could he turn for aid in this time
of need, but to the devoted Sutherlands ?
Summoning Reginald to his side, he
placed the matter in his hands, and went
his way. Thus was the smooth current
of their life interrupted; but Eugenia re
fused to be separated from her husband
even for a short time, and, after a few
hours conversation, the outlines of their
plan were formed. Accompanied by
their son, they arrived in Inspruck on
the evening of the 27th of April, and
took lodgings near the prison. Reginald
soon procured a passport for himself, his
wife, and son, as a party returning from
Loretta to the low countries, and their
next step was to procure an interview
with the servant of the Princess. Fortu
nately, the one most trusted by the
Princess was a fair and comely lass of
sixteen; and the son of the Earl was in
duced to play the part of a lover to the
maiden. Ho, then, it was soon known to
all the officers of the prison that the gal
lant young Francis, as he was called, was
Jeannette’s lover, and day after day he
went to see her, winning the kind re
gards of all by ills courteous manner At
last he was allowed to come and go at
will, unnoticed save by an occasional
merry jest or mischievous glance. At
last came the eventful evening when they
were to test their plan.
The evening was dark and rainy: the
pretended Francis presented himself at
the gate, and was quietly admitted. With
hasty steps, he sought Jeannette’s pres
ence—impelled by anxiety, not love. She
instantly led him to the young Princess,
who was awaiting him in trembling sus
pense.
“All is ready,” he murmured, bowing
low; “I have come, this evening, to secure
your Highness’ escape.”
“And how will you do it ?” asked Cle
mentina, gazing with breathless interest
upon the youth.
“I have worn a double suit of clothes
this evening, if your Highness will wear
J J
one —
“Oh ! I shall be discovered !” inter
rupted the Princess.
“I think not,” answered Francis; “do
you not observe that we are about the
same size ? This heavy cloak will con
ceal your form. It is very dark, and you
will certainly get away !”
“Oh ! I dare not!” cried Clementina;
“what would I do when I got out of the
gate ?”
“My father will meet ymu there ; in
deed, you have nothing to fear; let us
lose no time!”
“Oh ! I dare not !” still repeated the
Princess.
“But your Highness will be lost !”
exclaimed the youth in great distress; and,
kneeling before her, he clasped her hands
in his. “Do not hesitate, lady, your life
is in danger; even now we are losing
precious time!”
“1 will do it; more because you so
earnestly desire it than from any hope
that I will succeed in making my escape,”
said Clementina, looking earnestly into
the beautiful flushed face before her.
Springing to his feet, Reginald went
into the next room, and soon returned
with the dress over his arm.
“Assist your mistress,” said he to
Jeanette, and again retired.
The novel toilet was soon completed,
and Reginald summoned. Placing his
plumed hat on her head, he drew it far
over her brow, and wrapped his cloak
around her.
“Take courage now, and go boldly for
ward; if you hesitate, you will be dis
covered. Go to the gate with her Jean
nette, and watch her until she reaches the
corner ; then return to me.”
“How can I ever thank you !” exclaimed
the Princess, grasping Reginald’s hand.
“Do not attempt it !” he answered,
smiling, and pressing her hand to his
lips, he led her to the door. She went
out; it closed behind her. With wildly
throbbing heart, Reginald listened to
their retreating footsteps, and his cheek
paled as he heard one of the guard ex
claim :
“You are away early to-night, Master
Francis ?”
“Poor Francis has a headache,” an
swered Jeannette, and they passed on.
The heavy outer gate creaked on its
hinges, the Princess passed out, and the
girl returned to Reginald. Hhe had been
absent but a minute; yet, in that short
time, the guard had been relieved. She
saw instantly that there was a chance for
Reginald to make his escape ; and,
pausing a moment by the guard, she said :
“An ugly night, Master John?”
“Ugly, indeed, Mistress Jeannette;
that gay gallant of yours will scarcely
risk wetting his skin by coming out such
a night!’’
“Yon are mistaken, then,” answered
Jeannette, laughing ; “he is here already,
but the night gets worse; I will hurry
him away.”
“Aye ! do, Jeannette, and then give
us a bit of your merry tongue to while
away the hour.’’
“That will I,” answered Jeannette,
slipping away.
“In a few moments, she returned with
Reginald, who was laughing gaily ; yet
his face was pale, and his eyes glittered.
The guard cast a careless look on them
as they passed; the outer gate was reached;
a moment more and he would be free;
when, suddenly, the guard who had seen
the Princess, called to them :
“Not gone yet, Master Francis ?”
“No ; this girl’s hands cling to me like
spider’s webs; let me go, Jeannette!”
exclaimed Reginald.
“Oh ! stay a little while longer !” said
the girl, clinging to him,
“l don’t think it will do his head much
good to keep him standing in the rain ;
let him go, girl, and go to your mistress.
It is my opinion you want to get out of
the gate with him,” said the guard.
“Oh’ no, no,” exclaimed the girl,
and clasping Reginald in her arms for
one moment, she turned and ran back to
her Mistress’ room.
With rapid steps, Reginald ran to his
No. 52.
