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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.