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fUje flfleottjtii <H ctiij-HTaHCf §H rns6cr.
JOHN 11. SEALS,
NEW SERIES, VOLUME 111.
C|c Cemperance tosator.
Published every Thursday in the year, except two,
TERMS t Two Dollars per year, In advance.
oaunuo U£aa.ass
Clubs or Tex Names, by sending the Cash,
will receive the paper at .... copy.
Clubs of Five Names, at - - - - - 180 “
Any person sending us Five new subscribers, inclo
sing the money, shall receive an extra copy one year
free of cost.
ADVERTISING DIRECTORY:
Bates of Advertising:
1 square, (twelve lines or less,) first insertion, $1 00
“ Each continuance, _ 50
Professional or Business Cards, not exceeding six
lines, per year, 5 00
Announcing Candidates for Office, 3 00
Standing Advertisements:
not marked with the number of
insertions, will be continued until forbid, and charged
accordingly.
Druggists and others, may contract
for advertising by the year on reasonable terms.
Legal Advertisements:
Sale of Land or Negroes, by Administrators, Ex
ecutors and Guardians, per square, 5 00
Sale of Personal Property, by Administrators, Ex
ecutors and Guardians, per square, 3 25
Notice to Debtors and Creditors, 3 25
Notice for Leave to Sell, 4 00
Citation for Letters of Administration, 2 75
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Adm’n, 5 00
Citation for Letters of Dismission from Guard’p, 3 25
Legal Requirements:
Sales of Land and Negroes by Administrators, Exec
utors or Guardians, are required, by law, to be held on
the First Tuesday in the month, between the hours of
ten in the forenoon and three in the afternoon, at the
Court-house door of the county in which the property is
situate. Notices of these sales must be given in a pub
lie Gazette, forty days previous to the day of sale.
Notices for the sale ofPersonal Property must be given
at least ten days previous to the day of sale.
Notices to Debtors and Creditors of an estate, must
be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to the Court oi
Ordinary, for leave to sell Land or Negroes, must be pub
lished weekly for two months.
Citations for Letters of Administration, must be pub
lished thirty days —for Dismission from Administration
monthly, six months —for Dismission from Guardianship,
forty days.
Rules for Foreclosure of Mortgage must be published
monthly, for four months— for compelling titles from Ex
ecutors or Administrators, where a bond has been issued
by the deceased, the full space of three months.
Publications will always be continued according
to these, the legal requirements, unless otherwise or
dered. JOHN A. REYNOLDS, Publisher.
DRS. COE & LATIMER would inform their friends
and patients that one of the firm will constantly
remain in Greenesboro’, and that the other will be found
in the following places at the limes specified below :
White Plains, from March Ist to March 141 h.
Mount Zion, “ “ 15th to “ 28th.
Oxford, “ April 12th to April 25th.
Penfield, “ “ 26th to May 9th.
As this time table will be strictly adhered to, those
who call early will be most likely to receive attention.
Feb 25th, 1858
The firm of j. m. bowlls & co. is this
day dissolved by mutual consent, Wm. B. Seals
retiring. The business will be continued by J. M.
Bowles at the same ■stand, where he will keep, at all
limes, a full supply of Family Groceries, and will be
ready and willing to serve his friends at very Short Pro
fits for the CASH. J. M. BOWLES,
Feb 25 WM. B. SEALS.
JUST RECEIVED!
A Large Stock of Family Groceries!
CONSISTING OF—
AU Grades Sugar and Coffee ;
Fine Syrups and Molasses ;
Good Apple Vinegar; Rice ; t
Nos. 1, 2 and 3 Mackerel;
A large lot of Hydraulic Candles, which can be
bought exceedingly low;
A variety of Pickles ; Maccaroni; Sago;
Currants ; Raisins and Candies ;
Table Salt; Soda; Pepper and Spices ;
Chewing and Smoking Tobacco ;
pipes; Any quality ot a Cigar;
Large lot of Jar Snuff;
All qualities of Soap ;
Drugs and Patent Medicines;
Perfumery—a choice lot.
By way of remark, I would say to the citizens and vi
cinity of penfield, that I am giving this business my un
divided attention; and if they will give me a liberalna
tronage, 1 will save them the TROUBLE and EX
FENSE of going farther.
Penfield, Ga. March 9, 1857. J. M. BOWLES.
LOST OR STOLEN.
A LJ. persons are forewarned against trading for
the following notes : A note on Wm F Luckie for
Seventeen Dollars and Forty Cents, dated in April or
May |ast, and due the twenty fifth December thereaf
ter ‘ one on Wm Moore for Twelve Dollars and Twen
ty-five Cents, dated in May or June last, and due the
twenty.fifth December thereafter; one on David Phelps
of Hancock county for Twenty Dollars, dated in March
last and due from date ; and one on John Mitchell of
Mount Zion far Seventeen Dollars Twelve and a-half
cents, dated in April last, and due the twcnty.fifth of
December therealter.
The above notes were made payable to the subscriber
as guardian of free boys Jerry and Ben ; and the ma
kers of the same are requested to make payment to no
person except ntvself or my order.
THOMAS D. SANFORD.
Greenesboro’, March 4, 1858.
Atlanta Medical College,
rpHE Fourth Course of LECTURES in
JL thi# Institution, will commence on the Ist Monday
in May nerti and continue four months.
Faculty:
fl. jy. fiR 0 TTiV, M D Professor of Anatomy ;
JOHN w. JONES, MD Prof of 'Principles and Prac
tice of Medicine ;
w. f. Westmoreland, md Professor of Prin
ciples and Practice of Surgery;
THOMAS S. PO WELL, AtD Professor of Obstetrics
and Diseases of Women and Children ;
ALEX. MEANS, AT D Professor of Chemistry and
- Pharmacea;
JOSEPH P. LOGAN, MD Professor of Physiology
and General Pathology ;
J. G. WESTMORELAND, MD Professor of Materia
Medica and Medical Jurisprudence ;
T. C. H. WJLS ON, AID Demonstrator of Anatomy.
Fees j
For the Course Lctureg $lO5 00
Matriculation 5 00
J)Uecting Ticket (taken once) 10 00
Graduation 25 00
The increased facilities in the departments of Anato
my, Surgery and Chemistry, uflordedby ampleandwell
adapted rooms in the New College Building, make these
brancjics of study much more entertaining than hereto
fore. The Dissecting Room, situated in the upper story
pf the building, and furnished with skylight, will be
opened and supplied with sound and inoffensive subjects
bv the 15th of April,
Good board can be had in the city at $3 to 4 per week.
For further information address
April l-st* J. G. WESTMORELAND, Dean.
rpHE SUBBCRIBERISNOW OPENING
JL a nice stock of
Spring and Summer Goods,
to which the attention of the citizens ot Penfield and
vicinity is respectfully invited. The styles of the sea
son are unusually handsome and prices very reasonable.
An early call will be highly appreciated,
Penfield, March 25th Wm. B. SEALS.
T7RESH CRANBERRIES AND CURRANTS.
1 March 25 J, M. BOWLES.
ORANGES AND LEMONS.
March 25 J. M. ftOWTO."*
OTICK.—“The copartnersliip heretofore exist
ing between THOMAS MILLER AND JAMES
H. HALL, tinder the Btyle of MILLER & HALL, by
mutual consent, has been this day dissolved. The notea
and accounts due the firm are in the bands of F. C- Ful
ler, Esq-, for adjustment'.
Greenesboro', March 20th, 1858.
THOMAS MILLER.
March S5-3t. JAMES 11. HALL.
| Iff BUSINESS:
THE WEEKLY
| CHRONICLE & SENTINEIj,
PUBLISHED AT AUGUSTA, GA,
i IS IBS.
LARGEST AND BEST
LARGEST AND BEST
LARGEST AND BEST
LARGEST AND BEST
PAPER IN THE STATE.
PAPER IN THE STATE.
PAPER IN THE STATE.
PAPER IN THE STATE.
IN EVERY NUMBER
IN EVERY NUMBER
IN EVERY NUMBER
IN EVERY NUMBER
WE GIVE THE READER
WE GIVE THE READER
WE GIVE THE READER
WE GIVE THE READER
THREE TO FIVE TIMES
As much Reading Matter as is contained in the ordinary
Weeklv Papers ot the South, consisting of
INTERESTING STORIES AND TALES,
INTERESTING STORIES AND TALES,
INTERESTING STORIES AND TALES,
INTERESTING STORIES AND TALES,
MARKET REPORTS,
MARKET REPORTS,
MARKET REPORTS,
MARKET REPORTS,
LATEST NEWS AT HOME AND ABROAD,
LATEST NEWS AT HOME AND ABROAD,
LATEST NEWS AT HOME AND ABROAD,
LATEST NEWS AT nOME AND ABROAD,
Ac. Ac. Ac.
The Weekly Chronicle &. Sentinel, devoted to
POLITICS, NEWS AND MISCELLANEOUS IN
TELLIGENCE, is issued every Wednesday morning,
contains the LATEST NEWS received by Mail and
Telegraph up to Twelve O’clock Tuesday Night,
and is mailed to subscribers by the earliest trains from
this city, at
TWO DOLLARS A YEAR,
IN ADVANCE.
TRI-WEEKLY PAPER, $4.00,
DAILY PAPER, $7.00.
Letters should be addressed to
W. S. JONES, Augusta, Ga.
copies sent free when desired.
April 15, 1858
1858 SPRING TRADE. 1858
CHOICE FAMILY DRY GOODS!
Augusta, Georgia.
BROOM & NORRELL would invite attention
to their large and elegant stock of SPRING AND
SUMMER GOODS, which they arc now displaying
at their
CiDuACE*
comprising everything of the latest and most elegant
styles in
TOADIES’ DRESS GOODS,
EMBROIDERIES,
LACE MANTILLAS,
mm xx mm/’ m ms 9
HOOP SKIRTS of every style manufactured ;
HOOPS of every kind ;
DUSTERS —a large assortment;
IRISH LINENS, of our own importation ;
French, Eng. and American PRINTS, GINGHAMS,
Muslins, Challies, Bereges, Hosiery, Gloves, Furni
ture, Brilliants, Jaconets, Cambrics, D'Beges, <fc.(j-c.
ALSO,
All the best makes of Domestics, Housewife goods,
Linen Damask, Sheetings, Pillow Linens and Cottons,
Doyles, Towellings, Dimities, (fc. (W. making up one
of the best stocks of
ever offered in this market, and embracing all of those
styles most highly prized by good housekeepers.
And as ours is the only house in the city that invari
ably adheres to the
c 2 3
■ 3 s
K JTJ f
we would call particular attention to this feature of our
trade, andlask all to consider its advantages: It guar
antees to the BUYER the lowest market prices, because
it forces the SELLER down to the smallest sum he can
afford to take for his goods; and of course, BARGAINS
cannot be expected from any other mode of doing busi
ness. notice that we rigidly adhere to
ONE PRlCE—that price we guarantee to be as low as
the lowest, and that we never resort to the trick of
BAITING. April 15, 1858
Georgia, greene count y.—where as
James F. Geer, administrator npon the estate of
David Geer, deceased, petitions the Court of Ordinary
of said county for Letters Distnissory from said es
tate :
These are therefore to cite and admonish all persons
concerned, to show cause (if any they have) why said
administrator should not be discharged at the Court of
Ordinary, to be held in and for said county, on the first
Monday in November next.
Given under my hand at office in Greenesboro. April
10th, 1858. El T GENIUS L. KING, Ord.
April 15 6m
Georgia, greene county.—w her ea s
James W. Smith, administrator upon the estate of
Ann Swindtill, deceased, petitions the Court of Ordina
ry of said county for Letters Dismissory from said es
tate :
These are therefore to cite and admonish all persons
concerned, to show cause (if any they have) why said
administrator should not be discharged at the Court of
Ordinary, to be held in and for said county, on the first
Monday in November next.
Given under my hand at office in Grcenesboro, April
10th, 1853. EUGENIUS L. KING, Ord.
April 15 6m
Georgia, greene county.—w here as!
Albert A. Jernigan, guardian of L. Q. C. Chap- j
man, petitions this Court for Lctttcrs Dismissory from j
his said guardianship:
It is therefore ordered, that all persons concerned, be !
and appear at the next June Term of this Court,to show
cause (if any they have) whv said guardian should not
then be discharged; and it is further ordered, that a
copy of this rule bo published forty days in terms of the
law.
A true extract from the minutes of the Court of Or
dinary for said county, April Term. 1858.
EUGENIUS L. KING, Ord.
April 15 40d
(GEORGIA, GREENE COUNTY.—W her ea s
‘J Simeon 11. Stewart applies for Letters of Guardian
ship for the property of Albert Q. O’Neal, minor child
of Wooten O’Neal:
These are therefore to cite and admonish all persons
concerned, to be and appear at the Court of Ordinary,
to be held in and for said county, on the first Monday
in June next, to show cause (if any they have) why
! said letters should not then be granted.
! Given under my hand at office in Grcenesboro, April
: 10th, 1858.
EUGENIUS L. KING, Ord.
April 15 40d
GEORG la, GREENE COUNTY.—W hereas
James W. Smith, administrator dc bonis non upon
j the estate of Henry Swiudnll, deceased, petitions the
Court of Ordinary of said county for Letters Dismisso
: ry from said estate:
I These arc therefere to cite and admonish all persons
* concerned, to show cause (if aqy they have) why said
| administrator should not be discharged at the Court of
\ Ordinary, to be held in and for said county, on the first
j Monday in November next.
Given under my hand at office in Grcenesboro, April
10th, 1858. EUGENIUS L. KING, Ord.
April 15 6m
TWO MONTHS after date application will be
made to the Court of Ordinary of Greene county
■ for leave to sell the negro property belonging to the cs
j tate of T. L. Sanders, deceased.
April 15, 1858 WM. SANDERS, Adin’r.
• i---
ALL persons are forewarned against trading for a
note of *53 00, held by Franklin Moore against
j myself. The considerations for which the note was
I given having failed, I decline paying it. rrl „
April 8,1858 W, PVRHAM.
BACON! BACON! A line Ipt pf Tennessee
cured Bacon, for sale by J, M. BOWLES.
March 18,1858
Blanks i blanks t of every descrip
tion, furnished upon the shortest notice.
Officer and Attorneys are requested to
J Bend in their orders.
THE ADOPTED ORGAN OF ALL THE TEMPERANCE ORGANIZATIONS IN TRR STATE.
PENFIELD, GEORGIA, THURSDAY, APRIL 15, 185 8.
EDITRE sT^N
I V J)
By Mrs. M. E. Bryan.
j CONFESSIONS OF A RECLUSE i
| A STORY OF PASSION AND RETRIBUTION,
BY MARY E. BRYAN,
i
CHAPTER IV.
! in’ OT WITHSTANDING the beauty of her Arca
j xi dian home and the watchful solicitude of my
| love, I fancied that Inez was not happy. The
buoyancy of spirits that I remembered in her
childhood had given place to a quiet pensiveness,
! and her cheek did not recover its bloom so rap
| idly as I had anticipated. It may be that the
i past threw its haunting shadow over her heart,
; as well as my own, hut I did not think of this.
Brilliant and gay as I knew her to be, and em
; inently fitted to find pleasure in society, I feared
i that I had acted unwisely, as well as selfishly, in
! seeking to seclude her from the world, and I re
j solved at length to lease the villa, dispose of my
! sugar plantations and go abroad or reside for a
1 time in London, New York or one of the gay
cities of the continent. Inez was evidently pleased
with the arrangement, and the following Autumn
| found us established in a palatial mansion on the
most fashionable street in New York.
We had wealth, that all-sufficient passport to
American society, and it was not long before we
were numbered among the elite, and Inez received
the homage which her talent3 and her wonderful
beauty demanded. Her entree created a perfect
furor of excitement, and Mrs. St. Clair’s black eyes
and glittering diamonds were the talk of the sea
son. Her dress, too, at once fanciful and ele
gant, as suited her picturesque style, was pro
nounced faultless, though it was never imitated:
for none hut a brilliant beauty could have ven
tured upon the gorgeous colors that seemed only
a fit setting for her splendid loveliness. I often
marvelled, myself, at her queenly bearing in soci
ety. You would have thought the ignobly-born
child of the crazy fisherman, a duchess at least,
from her patrician beauty and regal air. There
was, too, in her manner, mingled with a hauteur
that well became her, a graceful, voluptuous lan
gor, that would have befitted a Sultana, hut her
large eyes, so full of fathomless passion, so darkly
and often intensely bright, banished all idea of
the Seraglio. She was now in the full zenith of
her charms. No marvel she was called the most
beautiful woman in New York. I was not dis
pleased at the admiration she excited. On the
contrary, I gloried in it; for I knew too well her
love for me and my power over her to permit a
thought of jealousy to disturb my happiness.
There was one night—one night that I well
remember—that I lay on the divan, watching the
progress of her toilette, as she dressed for a mas
querade ball—the last of the season. At her sug
gestion, I had adopted the oriental costume, and
appeared in the full trowsers, velvet robe, broad
sash and turban of a Turk. To complete the illu
sion, she presented me with an elegant chiboulce,
whose amber mouthpiece 1 had removed from my
lips, as I lay watching her with admiring inter
est.
She, too, was dressed as a daughter of the pro
phet. She personated Gulnare, and well did she
realize my ideal of that beautiful Turkish bride.
Her loose trowsers of rose-colored silk, brocaded
with silver flowers, were closed around the slen*
der ankles, while the tiny feet were encased in
slippers of white satin, embroidered with gold.
The antery fitting closely, her rounded figure was
fastened by diamond buttons, and the caftan was
of white and gol-l brocade with full sleeves,
heavily fringed with gold, and a jewelled girdle
around the slender waist. The talpac, a head
dress of some silver material, powdered with
pearls, was placed lightly upon her head, whose
| rich tresses, mixed with gems and flowers, hung
| behind in Persian braids, while in front they fell
| in jetty ringlets, decorated with the scarlet blos
j soms of the pomegranate.
Such was the rich costume which she hacl se
lected, and which so well became her oriental
style. I remember it as if it were but yesterday;
for my eyes wandered constantly to her graceful
figure, watching her undulating movements as
she floated through the dance, recalling the eas
tern beauties of the harem I had seen dancing in
the evening on the shores of the Bosphorus, in
the eunuch-garcled gardens of the Seraglio.
She came up to me, flushed and smiling at the
close of a waltz, and handed me her bouquet of
jasmine and heliotrope to hold while she used
her Spanish fan. I smiled and pointed to the
fans, vmagrettes and handkerchiefs already placed
in my charge by the fat lady and her daughter
who had laid claim to my service.
‘Will madame permit meP said a strange voice
behind me, and turning I saw a tall mask in the
dress of a Greek that I had observed hovering
around Inez several times during the night. I
glanced at my wife, and was amazed to see her
death-like paleness and the wild look in her eyes,
Mechanically, she handed him the flowers and
sank into a seat beside me.
‘ That voice!’ she said, in a breathless whisper
—‘ Oh! Paul, that voice !’
She would explain nothing farther in answer
jto my hurried inquiries; but in a little while
I looked up, still pale, but smiling, protested that
! it was nothing—only a slight nervousness, and
| accepted the arm of young Percy Howard for a
| stroll through the conservatory. I went with
1 Mrs. Le Grande and her silly daughter to the
| refreshment room, and for nearly an hour, watched
i the destruction of salad, jelly and champagne.
! At the end of that time, Mrs. Le Grande professed
herself satisfied, and we returned to the saloon,
as the band began playing a lively Spanish waltz.
Inez was on the floor and, to my surprise, the tall.
Greek was her partner. His features were en
i tirely concealed by the mask lie wore, but, as I
I observed him more closely, there seemed some
] thing familiar in his erect and stately figure. As
| they paused for a moment in the waltz, I saw
| him Ijend down and whisper in her ear, and then
j the intervening crowd hid them from my view,
| and the next instant I heard a faint stifled cry,
! and the clear voice of the stranger calling, ‘Ho l
j boy, this way with your water—the lady has
J fainted.’
‘ Mra, St, Glair!’ exclaimed half-a-dozen voices,
] and making my way through the crowd, I
! snatched the lifeless form of my wife from the
arms of the stranger, bore her into an adjoining
room and unceremoniously closed the door to
prevent officious entrance. Her swoon lasted but
a short time.
‘Ohl Paul/ she exclaimed, springing wildly to
her feet, * Let us fly immediately. Take me with
you—anywhere—anywhere; so that he may never
find me again.’
‘Who? What do you mean, Inez? In the
name of Heaven tell me what has happened?’
‘Do you not know? That man, Oh! Paul, that
man is— ’
‘ls whom?’ I questioned, as she paused, pale
and almost gasping for breath.
*My husband, Col. Ayrton,’ she said, faintly.
‘Col. Ayrton! Impossible! A phantom of
your own imagination, Inez! Can the sea give
up its dead ?’
*He is not dead,’ she exclaimed, wildly. ‘ I
knew his voice even before he whispered to mo
his dreadful name. Oh! Paul, Paul, what will
become of U 6 ?’
For a moment I was bewildered overpowered.
Disgrace and death stared me in the face. The
fair fame of Inez was dearer to me than life, and
then this man, who had been so miraculously .pre
served, had doubtless recognised me as liis former
assailant, the captain of a pirate cruiser. My ter
rible secret was in his possession, and ho was the
husband of Inez, and therefore my mortal enemy.
But the very exigency of the circumstances gave
me strength and calmness. Turning to Inez, I
appealed to her pride.
‘This must not be suspected,’ I said. ‘What
will the world say ? Flight is at present impossi
ble. Compose yourself and let us return to the
saloon. You can account for your swooning on
the plea of fatigue or sudden dizziness. What
ever you”may feel to-night, my dear Inez, betray
no symptom of any extraordinary emotion. Go
through your part bravely, for much depends
upon it. Perhaps 1 may succeed at least in pre
venting the disgrace of a public disclosure.’
I had not miscalculated the strength of her
pride. Stifling her convulsive sobs, she arose
from the couch, with compressed lips and firm
bearing and proceeded quietly to arrange her
disordered hair before the psyche mirror; then
signifying her readiness to return, she placed her
hand within my arm and re-entered the saloon
with an air of graceful composure and a smiling
allusion to her slight dizziness produced by the
rapid waltzing.
‘I reproach myself,’ he said, ‘for allowing ma
dame to become so fatigued. I hope she •is en
tirely recovered.’
‘Perfectly,’ rejoined my wife, returning his
glance with a bland smile. And then, turning
to a gentleman at her side, she added, lightly:
* I have not forgotten my engagement with yon,
Mr. Dumont. I feel quite equal to attempting
your new dance/
The Greek fixed his glittering eyes upon her,
with a look of wonder at her calmness, but she j
did not falter beneath their piercing gaze. For j
the remainder of the night she was more beauti
ful and brilliant than I had ever seen her.
As the disguised Col. Ayrton turned away, I fol- i
lowed him, and laying my hand upon his arm, j
arrested his steps and silently handed him my
card. He carelessly tossed me his own in return,
adding, ‘at the Fremont. 1 expected this, and
will be at your service at any hour you please.’
‘At five in the morning,’ I said. ‘ The place
of meeting to be at and the weapons of
your own choosing/
‘ Let them be swords, then/ he replied ; ‘but
shall I come alone?’
’ Aye, Col. Ayrton,’ I said, tightening my grasp
upon his arm, ‘This is no common duel; my all
of earth, honor, life, happiness depend upon its
issue. There must be no witnesses, no officious
interference. One of us two must fall to-morrow,
before that contest is ended/
He bowed with careless hauteur.
‘With all my heart/ he said, and attempted to’
pass on, but I detained him a moment longer. I
did not half like his cool, indifferent manner.
‘Do not fail me/ I said, in a hissing whisper.
‘ Attempt to elude me, and by the God above us,
you shall die the death of and coward/
The scornful smile faded from his lip. ‘ I shall
not fail you/ he said, impressively, as his tall form
disappeared among the crowd, and I returned to
Inez and conducted her home. The moment
there no longer existed any necessity for conceal
ing her feelings, the pride that had sustained her
gave way. The re-action came, and, throwing
herself in my arms, she wept long and bitterly.
I waited until she sank into a quiet slumber, and
then left her chamber and went below to pass a
sleepless night closeted with Percy Howard, whom
I sent for and informed of the duel that would
take place the next morning, and the drawer
where my will could be found in case of my death.
I did not tell him who was to be my antagonist
or why this man was my deadly enemy, but I said
that honor and happiness were staked upon the
duel; that interference or remonstrance would
prove useless; that circumstances rendered it
necessary that one of U3 must die ; and in case
the worst should happen, I earnestly committed
Inez to his brotherly care.
‘But what if it be otherwise?’ he said; ‘that
is more probable, for you are an excellent swords
man/
I had scarcely thought of that before, and in
stantly there flashed across me the horror of re
turning immediately to the presence of Inez, yet
reeking with the blood of her husband.
‘ I should deliver myself up to justice/ I said.
* And bring the whole affair into the publicity
you seem so much to dread—give abundant food
for scandal and draw upon yourself the dishonor
you speak of? No; I will tell you of a better
plan: Most of your acquaintances are aware of
your having received by the late steamer letters
from your banker in Havana, requiring your im
mediate presence there on business. It is known
that you intonded leaving to-morrow. \ou did
not anticipate starting until twelve o’clock, but
the California steamer, which will touch at Cuba
in passing, is advertised to leave at six. By that
time the affair will be over, and as it takes place
at so early an hour, it is hardly probable you will
be observed or suspected. Take passago on the
Grenada, stay away several months and the aftair
will have blown over; you will have escaped the
annoyance of hearing it made a nine day’s won
der and transacted your business at your leisure.
In the meantime, Mrs. St. Clair shall not slitter
fov attention. You may both rely upon me as
upon a brother/
Porcy did not know that in my dread of meet
ing Inez, if Col. Ayrton should be killed, I had
a more cogent reason for wishing to to be absent
than any he had named.
1 Thanks, my kind friend/ I said, grasping his
hand and Bhaking it warmly. •'You have re
moved a weight from my mind. I shall take your
counsel
• As freely as ’tie kindly given.’
And now as I have gome little business to arrange,
I will not detain you longer. It is already past
three o’clock, and in little more than an hour I
must bo in the saddle.’
I arose and clasped him in my arms in a long
embrace, for lie was the dearest friend I had on
earth, and there were odds against our meeting
again in life.
chapter v.
“ At the appointed time I was at the place des
ignated for onr meeting. Col. Ayrton was already
there, negligently leaning against a tree, engaged
in putting together a few wild flowers he had ga-;
thered around him. He looked up as I ap- j
preached, bowed haughtily, and without speak-’
ing, look his place and drew his sword. We
stood for a moment face to face regarding each
other.
It was a situation to try the courage of the
strongest heart. Many a brave man who had |
gallantly withstood the charge on the field of
battle, cheered by the presence of numbers, and
animated by thrilling music, and the hope of
martial glory, would have shrunk from that sin
gle combat, which each had sworn in his heart
should continue until the life-blood of one or both
stained the blades. But a determined purpose
ijerved the heart of each, and Col. Ayrton was as
cool and calm as I was myself. Strong and pow
erful as he was, however, he was yet no match in
expert swovdmanship, for one who had lived for
years with the sabre almost constantly in his hand.
I parried his first trusts, and taking advantage of
an unguarded movement, drove my sword to the
hilt in his breast. He fell back with a low groan,
and as I raised his head from the ground,‘his lips
trembled, and bending down, T caught a single
sentence:
‘ Inez/ he said, ‘ Will you tell her I forgave her,
and love her to the last ?’
And then, the darkness of death settled upon
that noble countenance. 1 turned away, drew
my cloak around me, and my hat over my brow,
mounted my horse and rode rapidly back tot lie
city. I assured myself that Inez was still sleep
ing, before I ventured to enter her room. I drew j
back the curtain softly, and gazed earnestly upon I
the beautiful, beautiful face before me.
In thought, I went back through long years to !
the hours of our innocent childhood, when ex
hausted with her sea-side rambles, she so often j
fell asleep in my arms, beneath the shade of the ;
over-hanging cedars. Just so had the dark lashes I
swept down upon her flushed cheek; just so were ,
the red lips parted with the sweet breath that i
stole through tlieih, while a half smile quivered :
about the dimpled cheeks, telling of some pleas- i
ant dream. I dared not press my own hot lips to j
that stainless brow, for the act might awaken her,
and 1 could not yet meet the look of her, whose j
husband had just fallen by my hand. I gazed
in silence upon that vision of loveliness and pu- j
rity. It was the last time f ever saw her thus.
T left with Percy the few hurried words of ex
planation I had written Inez, telling her that the
vessel sailed earlier than I expected; that know
ing what she had undergone the previous night,
I would not awaken her to bid her farewell, and
concluding, by assuring her that she need give
herself no farther distress about the adventure of
last night.
Percy accompanied me to the vessel, spoke
cheerfully of my return, and at parting, ejijoined
me to be content and happy in my. temporary
exile, for Inez would be as safe under his protec
tion as under my own.
Safe! aye the safety of the dove when the ser
pent coils around its nest! But no fear—no dream
of this had then entered my mind, or 1 would
have died, sooner than left her exposed to the !
machinations of an accomplished and unprinci
pled villi in. I would have staked my life on the j
honor of Percy Howard, for lie exercised over me j
the same strange power that he wielded over all
who came within the sphere of his magnetic influ- j
ence. T believe that there arc some men who, in
i common with a few of the lower animals, possess
the rare gift of fascination.
One of these was Percy Howard. His features
were not regularly handsome—they were too bold
for that; but in every tone of liis voice—in every
wave of his hair—in every movement of his slight
and almost boyish figure, there was a chaun that
insensibly won the heart. But in his eyes lay
the secret of his strange fascination—those won
clerous eyes!
; My own will was never under my control, when
! they were upon rne. I cannot tell their precise
color, for they were changeful as a summer lake, |
• deepening and darkening and varying as he spoke
• —now full of wistful tenderness —n ow shaded heav
ily by drooping lashes, with a look ot touching
sadness, dreaming far down in their unfathoma
ble depths.
His voice was singularly sweet, and he under
stood the art of delicate flattery—flattery con-j
veyed more by looks and tones than words, which
is so irresistible to woman.
Such was tlie man to whom I committed my j
wife during my absence; a man whom I had ;
heard it remarked that ‘no woman could look upon
without loving;’ and Inez was a creature ol pas
sion and impulse, with, the warm blood of the
South in her veins.
You can guess the sequel. Three months la
ter, I returned to my home to find it vacant, the
hearthstone cold, the rooms dreary and tenant- j
less. In the streets, where I fled from the doso- j
lation of that silent house, I read tihe overwhelm
ing truth in the pitying eyes of all I met, even in
the public journals, where it was formally an
nounced that ‘ the beautiful and accomplished
wife of Paul St Clair had eloped with the fascina
ting Mr. Howard, well known among the elite of
New York.’
And so the retribution had fallen at last, she i
vengeance of God had come upon me, the most i
terrible that could visit a guilty mortal. 1 could ,
have borne the loss of friends—of property and
reputation; but to lose her, for whose sake the
crimes that weighed so heavily on my conscience
had been committed!
The blow was crushing; the bolt was sudden
and fearful, but I did not lose my reason, nor did
I bow humbly to the stroke, as a merited punish
ment, from the hand that chastises in love and
mercy. One terrible purpose animated my heart.
All my thoughts centred in one firm resolve. The
flame of love and hope and happin&s had burnt
to cold ashes on the altar of my heart, but Phoe
nix-like, from those ashes had sprung a passidki,
fierce and remorseless—the passion of revenge.
In little more than an hour after my return to
my deserted home, I had started in pursuit of the
betrayer. For four years it was the one object
of my life, but my efiorts wereinoflectual. Fear
ing that they would be pursued, he had taken
every precaution to elude ray search, for ho well
knew that nothing but his heart’s blood could
satisfy my thirst for vengeance.
EDITOR AND PEOPRIETOR.
VOL. XXIV. NUMBER 14
I saw them only once. I had gone to Paris,
and learning that the opera would be crowded,
to witness the first appearance in the city, of a
beautiful singer and actress who had won laurels
in the provincial towns, I determined to go, con
jecturing that I might there meet with the ob
jects of my search.
The performance had already begun when I
entered. The opera was the favorite one of the
season, but sp occupied was I in scanning the
faces of those around me, that I did not glance
towards the stage, until the voice of the debutante
arrested my attention. There was in the depth
and pathos of those tones, a familiar cadence,
that sent a quiver through my heart-strings. I
could not discern the features, for the lights were
down to represent twilight, and the dim glitter
of her splendid dress suggested the idea of a
spirit in the shades of Elysium. But in the scene
following, when the attendant announced ‘ La
1 Duchesa,’ and she entered in her beautiful, half
regal costume, the full blaze of light fell upon her
features, and I recognised in the Prima Donna of
the Italian Opera, my own faithless wife.
. I know not what supported me through that
I ordeal. I cannot now account for the unnatural
’ calmness with which I watched the performance
I until it was over, even when I saw in the dress of
| a Roman soldier, the false villain who hadsofoul
i ly wronged me, and whose life I sought.
The acting of Inez was superb. All the passion
and power of her natute was poured forth in the
burning words she uttered, and loud plaudits tes
tified the admiration of the audience.
When the curtain fell, at the close, she was re
called, and came forth again amid a shower of
bouquets and garlands. I had risen from my.
seat and advanced to the front of the box, where
, I stood watching her as she bowed smilingly and
! gracefully in token of her thanks.
| Suddenly, her eyes encountered mine. She
| turned deadly pale, and her figure wavered to
| and fro for air instant, but she did not swoon.
| Recovering herself by a powerful effort, she signed
for the curtain to fall, almost before the specta
tors had noticed her agitation.
Then I recovered from my trance-like apathy,
and endeavored to force my way through the
crowd to the green-room. I gained it, after a
considerable time had been spent in the effort,
but the ones I sought were not there. They had
; recognized me, and made their escape; nor could
! they be found at the hotels to which I at once re
paired. The morning papers announced that
Madame Buonarette had been suddenly called
away by tidings of the illness of her mother, and
would not probably perform again in Paris.
Farther search proved unavailing, for in the
wilderness of Paris one might remain concealed
for years. I left the city, at length, and have ne
ver since seen my guilty wife or her seducer.
Finding all efforts to,discover a clue to the fugi
tives were useless, I returned to my native shore,
and resolved to spend the remainder of my life
in seclusion and constant penance.
Thus far I have kept my vow.”
lie paused in his broken recital, and sat with
his face bowed upon his hands.
‘‘And have you attained peace?” I asked.
lie turned to me with a look in his eyes so
wild, that I started.
“Peace!” lie-raid, with a laugh of bitter scorn.
“There can be no peace without forgetfulness;
and alas! it was a fiend who fabled Lethe; for
there is no Lethe but the grave. I had thought
that I had buried the past forever in the sepul
chre of my heart, but I have, to-day, rolled the
stone from its grave, and see the power the poor
ghost of memory still possesses.”
I looked upon the ashen cheek and lip—the
: hand that trembled upon my arm, and marvelled
! at the strength of a passion which, after the lapse
| of long years, could thus unnerve that strong
I man.
“You think my story a strange one,” he re
: sumed; “ you think me mad, perhaps, for what
i should you know of such a passion—a passion
; that turns the blood to burning lava in the veins
—a passion coming to the young heart like an in
spiration, fostered by seclusion—by solitary mu
sings—by wild and romantic dreamings, until it
| became a part of my being. Thank God that you
ido not know it —that you never will! If you have
I children, bring them early in contact with the
I world, that its hard, stern lessons may effectually
: chill all youthful romance. Crush in them all
| enthusiasm —all ardor; make them cold, calcula
| ting, heartless—anytliingbut fit victims of passion.
I “ And yet,” he added, in a lower tone, “ there are
beings formed to create passion—made to be wor
shipped wildly and idolatrously. You think my
love a frenzy. Come, you shall see its excuse.”
He arose, and I followed him into the low hut,
where pausing awhile before a veiled picture that
hung upon the wall, he drew aside the curtain,
; and I looked upon a face of almost supernal beauty,
i Never before, in my wildest imaginings, had I
i beheld loveliness like that. And yet, the beauty
! was the beauty of the earth. But the type was
; perfect. The regal brow, the rich olive of the
I complexion, the carnation checks, the full red
| lips and the glorious eyes, at once passionate and
tender, with the voluptuously moulded form,
arched neck and drooping shoulders, were delin
eated with life-like accuracy. I almost expected
to see the red lips expand into smiles, and the bo
som heave with life.
“It is beautiful, indeed,” I murmured, “be
yond conception—almost beyond humanitybut
imy companion did not reply. He still stood be
j fore the portrait, liis arms folded across his breast,
i his eyes riveted upon the speaking canvas. By
i the side of this picture hung another, of a type
i far different—a Madonna and child—a rare mas
-1 ter-pieee, that the recluse had probably procured
jin his Eastern wanderings. The angelic sweet-
I ness and purity of that spiritual face, with its halo
I of golden hair, was in striking contrast with the
j dark brilliancy of the other. The one was the
I beauty of a fallen angel, the other of a glorified
; saint.
“ Virgin most holy, when thy sinless face,
Men look upon, they wish to be
A Catholic, Madonna fair, to worship thee.”
I repeated the words almost unconsciously,
while gazing upon that face.
I was startled from the contemplation of the
two pictures by the voice of the recluse. It was
so strange and hollow, that I scarcely recognized
it.
“Go,” he Suid; “ I cannot bear companionship
now. Leave me alone. I must regain my peace
of mind. Think, if you will, of the wild story you
have heard, as the ravings of a lunatio.
It matters not to me. I have done with the
world. 1 renounce it forever, and never again at
the bidding of mortal, will I lift the veil from the
P^t.”
He dropped the curtain heavily over the face ot
the portrait, sank upon his knees before the lm
age of the virgin, and pressed to
crucifix he held. I turned away and left him to
his solitude, shuddering to think of
that lonely man, debarred from the sympathy and
love of his kind, haunted by . th ®
past, stung by s"£££ “^^2’the
posingon himself fe . J find
1C” mlu“weet y voice” that Jight .pe* peace
to his troubled spirit..
ThomamUc, Go.