JOHN H. SEALS, | proprietor!
■ 1 ' ' ' 111 1 ■
ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, JUNE 12, 1875. terms,j
[For The Sunny South.]
8 ON G.
(From the French of Victor Hugo.)
BY KAMBA THORPE.
Is there a pleasant lawn,
By dews of heaven fed,
Where, every opening dawn,
Some flower uplifts its head ?—
Where gleams the jasmine spray,
W*>odbine and lilies gay ?
There would I make a way
For thy dear feet to tread.
Is there a loving heart,
By honor's seal impressed,
Where gloom hath found no part
With constancy confessed ?
Oh! doth it ever beat —
That heart with faith replete?
I'll make it the retreat
Where thy dear head may rest.
Is there a tender dream,
Illumined by the rose,
Where each new day doth seem
New beauties to disclose?—
A dream that Heaven hath sent,
Where soul with soul is blent ?
I’d make of it a tent
For thy dear heart’s repose.
[Written for The Sunny South.]
The Border Mystery.
BY MARY E. BRYAS.
•HE DREW THE HAND GENTLY AWAY, CARRIED IT TO HIS LIPS. AND THEN HELD IT CLOSELY CLASPED IN HIS. -
He felt a light touch upon his arm.
••Look, Islimael!—it’s her!” said Maneh.
“She’s holding out her hand to you.”
It was Melieent who had touched him. Still
kneeling by the prostrate form of the man she
had known as her father, she held out her hand trembling with unutterable feeling. “It is \ “you are not needed here any longer: you can
to the husband of her youth, with no word upon Manch—little Manch you liked so much. He j do him no more good, and I will see to the re-
lier tremulous lips, but with a look full of deep- lives,T-he is here !” moral of the body. Come, let me put you in
est gratitude, sympathy and kindness. His heart She turned her eves- whiain.. through tears, the carriage ami have yon d.rivpn home- ”
’ t tnniultuovsly as he l> ld the , lender hand upon the Ljj. - - ~ * '-Thc'u£iia~ m:'T7Hu~uAlr-iTcenfs
an instant in his trembling clasp. Old memories
The dying man roused from his titful stupor, had been stirred by the succession of stormy
groaned, and looked around for Melieent. feelings that had swept across it— astonishment,
“If I could know the child lived,” he mur- remorse, pity love, anguish- Now, as he leaned
mured, the gleam of intelligence momentarily ! over Melieent, his cheek was pale and his eye
lighting his eye. full of tenderness and compassion.
you, and give me a chance to redeem myself in
Then the carriage drove rapidly away, and
soon set Melieent down at her new home. Mel
ieent, the beautiful, the relined, the accom
plished, at the “Wild-Cat’s Den,” the compan
ion of Mad Hagar and poor, half-witted Harriet!
What a change 1 What a contrast between her
her clothes, books, and some of her girlish keep
sakes. A few hours after, these trunks were
brought, and with them came two others, filled
with all the gifts she had received from Mr.
Avery during their married life,—books, toilet
articles and elegant souvenirs, among them a
beautiful watch, an ormolu dressing-case, work-
box and writing-desk.
Melieent permitted Harriet to have the rare
delight of examining and unpacking the things.
Down upon her knees by the open trunks, the
girl unwrapped paper parcels and peered into
boxes and caskets, uttering little childish cries
of admiration over each beautiful object and
holding it up for inspection, with her black
eyes dancing and her curly hair quivering with
Neil was seated near, carving a toy ship for
Manch, who sat at his side. Melicent's eyes
were bent upon a book, whose pages she turned
too fast for any coherent reading. Was she
afraid to trust herself to look at these souvenirs
lest they should speak too eloquently of the one
who gave them ?
At length, Harriet came upon a small, silver-
inlaid, ebony casket that contained some pieces
of jewelry—presents from Air. Avery, which
Melieent had not seen since she placed them in
his trunk when she left his house to return to
her ‘father. Harriet lifted out a tiny, elegant
chain, to which was attached a small enameled
“May I open it?” asked she: and before an
answer could be given, the spring gave way and
the case fell open in her hands.
“Oh! what a grand gentleman! Why, it’s
the Mayor himself—the Mayor that Pretty Lady
used to ride with. What a beautiful mouth—
sweet enough for a queen to kiss !—and all
smilin’; not solemn and grumptious as he looked
t’other day. Pretty Lady, why don’t you make
him smile like he used to ? Why don’t you ride
with him some more in his grand carriage,
and wear his picture around your neck ?”
She held up the miniature to Melieent and
made a motion of throwing the chain around her
neck. But Melieent put back the hand that
held the picture with a quick, agitated ges
“Take it away, Harriet; put it up, please,”
she said. “This casket must go back, and many
of the other things.”
“Oh! will you send them back — all your
pretty things? And your rings, too, with the
former beautiful homes and the brown, four- writin’ inside of them ? You took ’em off last
roomed cottage she was now to occupy ! .... night: T saw vpu cryiu' y> ^.pjrfftsJ"
»' Ul / ll ,1t tin /v*' y»V ‘ 1 ' J 1 ' “ *'— * * * *
lJSSTKeiicent hardly thought of the change in little box, and you kissed the plain one before
her outward surroundings. Old Hagar’s strong you laid it away ”
‘ Oh ! Harriet!” -exclaimed Melieent. deeply
upon ti,e toy.- • ' — w ~ * 7"i TTie' liiriiir iu'~lu!u"~’uq^\T>lT ; iTcenTs~"arhr was
“My child !” she cried, and caught him to her struck off suddenly, and the bony fingers of old
crowded upon him—long-silent accents thrilled bosom, clasping him in a passionate embrace I Hagar Griffin grasped his shoulder and thrust arms lifted her from the'earriage as tenderly as
upon his ear. Her voice recalled his wandering and sobbing over him in wordless emotion. him aside. though she had been an infant, and half sup- distressed, for she knew that Neil’s eyes were
senses. N Suddenly, she felt his arms relax and drop “She'll never go to a home of yours !” she ported her along the graveled walk, past Harri- upon her, and she felt the blood surge to her
“ Help me persuade him to leave this place,” from her neck. She gazed with dismay at his cried. “My son's wife goes to his own Lome, et’s tiny, sweet-smelling garden and into Har- brow, and then receding, sink like a cold weight
she said. wan face and pale, parted lips. Yonder is the death-cart that brought him here riet’s own clean little room, where, laid upon upon her heart.
For Captain Brown — or Judge AVeir, as we “My God !” she exclaimed.' “Have I found to the gallows and that was meant to carry back the fresh, white bed. with Harriet to bathe her “ Have I vexed you, Pretty Lady ?” asked the
him only to lose him ?” his murdered remains. But God has shown face, and kiss and-wonder delightedly over the simple creature, turning round on her knees,
“Give him to me,” said a gentle voice at her himself above the devil to-day, and that humble little, white, ringed hands, she fell into the taking Melicent’s hands and patting and kissing
side. “He has only fainted.” vehicle shall take back my living son and his deep sleep of weariness and exhaustion. them. “I won’t hurt the things, and I will put
Neil took his boy in his arms, chafed his hands : wife; and the coffin that was meant for him them all back so nice.”
and forehead a moment, and then the child drew shall hold the body of the man who wronged CHAPTER XIX. “Very well, my dear,” said Melieent, control
s' sobbing breath and opened his eyes—opened them both and repented of it. You have nothing xhe funeral was over- the earth had received bn !r! herself and speaking gently as she rose and
may call him—refused to be taken down from
the scaffold. He lay upon the floor, supported
now by the stalwart arms of Dick Allan. The
Sheriff had gone below, and his place upon the
platform was filled by old Hagar Griffin. She
stood over the fallen man like an eagle over its
prey, but her fierce eye softened as she saw his
condition. She had been his bitter foe in days
gone by, but she had always admired his prow
ess and daring. This last act (that of saving
Neil by his voluntary confession) wiped out for
her many of the old scores against him, and to
them to meet the tender, loving ones of the friend
to whom he had been so faithful.
“My father!” he uttered, and clasping his
arms around Neil’s neck, he buried his face in
The sore-tried and long-suffering man felt at
her lialf-savage judgment there was nothing so that moment a thrill of unalloyed joy.
dark in the passion-stained record he had given
of his life. Revenge was a portion of her creed,
and she was ready to shake hands with the fallen
chief in his hate for Marmaduke Archer.
••I'll bear a hand, Dick, and we’ll help him to
more to do with us. We will bury our dead,
and shed our tears, and rejoice over our found
without your interference. Go and find a bride
somewhere else, Alexander Avery; you have no
claim upon Neil Griffin’s lawful wife.”
She waved him down with a tierce, impera
tive gesture, and stepped between him and Mel
ieent. But their eyes had met. and a look had
passed between them that would never be for
gotten by either. And there was another who
would remember it to the^kour of his death.
Neil Griffin had seen the look of vearning devo-
into its all-embracing bosom what remained of
the proud, passionate man who had sinned and'
suffered punishment from the hands of God, if
not of man. No thought of reproach or of accu
sation crossed Melicent’s mind as she looked
for the last time on the majestic face—nothing
but grief and love. As she stood under the gray-
clouded sky in the misty rain and watched the
body lowered into the earth, a feeling of desola-
‘ you have cut off the
“Father,” said Manch,
“Have I? Yes, I see. I wasn’t thinking.
Well, the ship’s spoiled, but I’ll make you an
other this evening. My head aches now, and I’ll
try a little walk.”
He went out. He walked slowly down the hill
to the bayou—to the old ash, on whose great,
As the eyes of the man who had injured him
so deeply fell upon this moving picture, a shadow
of agony passed over his face. gotten by either. And there was another who tion came over her—a wild longing to lav her gnarled roots he and his Milly had sat and fished
“It is I who have so long deprived him of a would remember it to the*iour of his death, head —tired and giddy with the tossings of fate in the summer days he used to love to recall.
father’s happiness,” was perhaps the old man’s Neil Griffin had seen the look of yearning devo- U p 0n that same calm resting place. But she Their memory had been sweet, if sad, unmarred
get down from this before they have a noose remorseful thought at that moment. Or it might tion upon one side, of anguish and tender for- felt the sympathetic clasp of Manch’s little fin- hy any shadow save the tender one of regret,
around his neck, —they’re so fond of tying the have been bodily pain that convulsed his fea- giveness upon the other. g ers U p on j lft r own , and she looked down and Then her spirit had seemed to hover about him—
hemp cravat. God grunt I may see it twisted tures, for his eyes had grown vacant and glazed The body of Judge Weir was lifted and borne gathered strength to live from the loving eyes of to be ver y near in dreams > and in those moods,
around some of their own throats yet before I again. They moved around once, twice, as it to the death-cart that had brought Neil Griffin her child. Her child! There was sweetness that were half dream and half memory; nothing
die,—the sneaking foxes! Come, Captain-can in vague search lor something they knew not t o the gallows. As the men were about to place and comfort in the outflowing of this fountain : but a breatb had seemed to divide them. But
yon help yourself a bit i what. Then, they fell upon the face of Dick p fa the cart, a tall, pale gentleman came up of maternal love that had been newlv unsealed now a more deep than death seemed to
But the “Captain" motioned them aside. Allan bent over Ins old comrade, and full of rtn d spread upon the floor of the rough vehicle in her breast. At that moment it strengthened yawn between them. Living, yet lost to him !
“No.” he said feebly; “I am a dying man, ... - ...... . ■=
and here is the right place for me to die,
is where I ought to have stood seven
but I had not the courage to face the shame'of ing tones: it also in the cart. Then he signed to the bear- Mr. Avery stood opposite to her on the other the desolate aching in his heart increase as he
such a death, and I could not bear to leave Milly. “Come, boys-follow me ! ers t0 lav tlleil . b un i en q own npon t ] lese . The side of tile grave, with folded arms and pale, felt tbat sbe could never be his Mlll y a 8 am -
Come close to me. my darling. I’ve wronged The ruling instinct was strong in death. The samP tllj ’ n , pa l e gentleman then spoke to Hagar troubled face. He did not speak to her himself, “Free and happy !” Dick Allan’s words had
raised arm dropped heavily, the tire died out in ;in( | offered her his carriage to take herself and but she saw him put his umbrella into the hands denied a mockery to him, even then in the hour
Melieent home. of the gray-haired minister and say a few words b i § deliverance from death. He had no faith
“She could not ride in that thing with the. to him in an undertone, and when the reverend in the promised happiness He did not rebel
coffin and the dead body,” he said.’with a shud- gentleman came to her side with a respectful against fate, he did not complain of his lot, or
dering movement of his shoulders that made greeting and held over her an umbrella to shield
poor, heart-sick Melieent instantly recognize ber from the fine, misty rain she was scarcely
in the thin, closely-shaved gentleman. Colonel conscious was falling, she knew by whom the
Archer, changed by the fever that followed his kindly act was prompted. It was not the only
wound, and still something of an invalid. It l )roof « be bad of Air. Avery’s interest. He had
was probable that Hagar did, not know him as superintended all the arrangements for the bur-
the “spy” whom she had execrated so often. bd > alld had sent the plain but handsome coffin
that received the body, and the hearse that bore
vou, but I loved you for all that: and I’m dying,
“Not dying, my father. You were so much
better just now.”
••It was dying strength; it was the flash before
the tire went out. It was given me to make some
amends—at this late day—for the wrongs done
to him and yon. Poor girl! I have wronged
you out of father and mother - out of husband
“Child, father! What can you mean?”
“ Your little babe. Melieent. That night—the
night I burnt the house—I left it. Its little piti
ful face has haunted me so. The thought troubles
“My poor little babe was dead, father. It had
never drawn breath. If it was burnt up in the
house, it could not feel the flames. Don't let
that trouble you now.”
“It was not dead,—it was not burnt.”
“Not dead? Merciful God ! Where is it? Oh,
father, tell me ! Speak to me !”
He looked at her without seeming to compre
hend. His eyes took on the dull, vacant look
they had worn before; his lips moved in a vague,
muttering way. Melieent bent over him until
her breath mixed with his.
“Will you not tell me what yon did with my
child, father ? ” she whispered imploringly.
“Toil said you left him that night we went from
the burning house? Where did you leave him,
“It was—yes, I left him at her door.”
“Whose door, father?”
“Hagar Griffin’s—his grandmother’s.”
Melicent’s swift glance went over first to the
amazed face of old Hagar. who leaned opposite,
and then to that of Manch. The old dame nod
“ That’s him !” she cried, pointing to Maneh.
“Harriet found him at our door that night,
wrapped in a blanket. I never once mistrusted
whose child it was: but he had the Griffin eye,
■ and folks swore he was Harriet’s child, —the
the glazing eyes, the firm mouth quivered,
fearful tumult convulsed the majestic brow one
moment -and then passed - and he lay in death,
calm and grand as the sculptured form of the
The authority of the Mayor and his corps had
been needed to restrain the crowd while this
strange scene was passing upon the platform of
the gallows. Now. their pent-up excitement
broke bounds, and they pressed around the ,. „ . , , ,. . , . , . ...
scaffold and gave vent to shouts and curses, and At brst sb ? decllned “> bls , f tb ?
seemed ready to shake the platform from its carnage The way was short, and she preferred
foundation in their eagerness to obtain a sight to walk but she saw that Melieent was hardly
of the actors in the wild drama, whose last scene able st, ! nd ' , Mebcent must ride, and it did
had just closed on the floor of a gallows. Dis- * eem bard lo !' ber to S° “ deatWiU 't w \ b
appointed in the promised entertainment of a the coffin and a corpse in it. So. tor once, she
hanging, they were determined not to be deprived ° vercom . e her - sava S e independence and accepted
of the tragicspectacle which they were compelled he c f" m « e 1 ^ Ve • T ?*
to accept as its substitute; and while Melieent h ? n! f* and half-fainting hardly heard a word
oMiVyo i jo.c. i* ’ r * r 4.1 ot what was being sanl. She only looked to see
sobbed over the liteless torni ot her toster-tatlier. , , . n ,
on i t-w - • a* ,•,i that the body in the cart was caretullv disposed
and Dr. Wilson, attera Uriel examination ol the XT -i 4. 1 1 • ■» i
Lrxdx. xT-zxrxf ♦ 4.^4.;*, * 1 of, with Neil seated beside it. and then suffered
body, went down to testily to its decease, the , , 1 * * • 11 * „ i ^ „
‘ -1 n , i-.r. j . . V j hersell to be led to the carriage and helped to a
crow d surged against the platform and inveighed . ■ •. ,, , }11 .
against the authorities who requested them to eat n “ SOtt nd sbaclecl reces •
keep back. As he closed the door, Colonel Archer lingered
Air. Avery had not lived so long among these an instant, looking compassionately at her white
wild AVestern men without knowing the one blce and sorrowful £y,es.
way there was to deal with them. Springing “I deeply regret having been the canse of add-
upon the steps of the scaffold, he drew a revol- ing to your unhappiness, dear lady. ' he said,
ver from his belt and coolly declared himself | “i shall feel remorse whenever I think of that
ready to fire upon the first one who should ap- sad face of yours. I would to God I had never
proach within a yard of the scaffold unless sum- stirred in this dreadful business, but had left
question its justice; he was not cynical or repin
ing, but he had an instinctive doubt that any
sun would shine into his life.
And the instinct, it seemed, would prove pro
phetic. The freedom was not complete; it had
come too late. The years of fugitive life, of
watchfulness, suspicion and haunting fear had
left their traces on his mind more indelibly than
moned to render assistance. Then he called revenge to the Great Avenger; as you prayed me his praise of Air. Avery.
upon the Sheriff and two others to bring down to do. I have done myself no good, and have Three days had passed since the funeral,
the body of Judge AVeir. brought much trouble upon others. It will Alelicent had received a formal note from Air.
“Hold, one moment.” he said, as they were make me a changed man. I think. AA'ill you Avery, asking what disposition she wished to
about to ascend the platform. He replaced the shake hands with me. Alelicent, and say that you
revolver in his belt, and his face underwent a will try to forgive me?”
change as he turned and approached where Alel- Her lips moved to murmur the words “for-
icent knelt. As he had stood below and listened give.” and she laid her little, wan hand in his.
to the wild story of confession and explanation He pressed it warmly.
which freed Alelicent from blame and revealed “ If you ever need a friend. Alelicent. I entreat
the sad trials she had passed through, his soul you to believe in the brother’s interest I feel for
the marks of the chain-links upon his limbs.
Every footfall startled him as though it was the
tread of a pursuer; he looked wildly into every
face that passed; he shrank from every strange
voice or touch; he hid himself from the visitors
that came to congratulate him upon his deliver
ance—some coming from curiosity, and a few
out of admiration for the self-abnegating spirit
he had shown. These last were very few. There
were few who could understand or appreciate
such a crucifixion of self through devotion to
another. “A poor simpleton.” “A crack-
brained fellow.” “A spiritless dolt.” These
epithets were bestowed upon him by the many,
and they marked the light in which his self-immo
lation was regarded. He himself did not see it in
any heroic light. It had seemed to him a simple
duty that he should shield Alilly’s father in the
first instance, since he had a sad, unexpressed
conviction that she loved her father better and
would grieve more for his loss, and he had also
an humble belief that her father could do more
to make her happy and advance her socially than
he could do.
AA'hen he was taken up and condemned the
last time, his silence was due partly to his
make of her furniture and other property that knowledge that if he should speak now and de-
remained at his house. Did she want it sent to nounce the real murderer, he would not be be-
her present abode? If so, she would please let lieved. It would be regarded as a lame inven-
him know. She answered in the same business tion, since there was no proof to corroborate his
way, requesting him to let the furniture be assertion, and the man he would have accused
taken to the auction rooms, and to send her was supposed to have been dead for seven years,
only the trunks in which were already packed This was partly the reason of his silence, but^
it to the grave. He also sent the carriage that
conveyed Alelicent to the funeral.
Old Hagar had bitterly resented what she
called the interference of the meddling, high
headed Alayor, but Neil’s quiet determination
overcome her vehemence, and the coffin was
brought in. He had seen that it was the wish of
Alelicent. He refused to send back the carriage
as his mother insisted should be done, and she
“ Are you the fool to let her ride in a carriage
he has sent!”
Neil answered gently:
“AA’e have none for her to go in, and she is
not able to walk. I think it would hurt Air.
Avery’s feelings by refusing his kindness. It
was thoughtful and kind of him.”
He did not know that Alelicent was near until
she. stepped upon the porch from the door-way
where she had been standing and thanked him
by a look. That look, kind as it was, sent a
pang to his heart. He felt she was grateful for
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