JOHN H. SEALS, | k^prietor!
ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, AUGUST 21, 1875.
[For The Suonv South.]
BY MARY CARROLL.
Over-young is the little girl
To learn hard lessons—all too soft.
The hand that fondled her dark curl
Strays near a fair head oft.
The ear that deemed her glad, sweet voice
Fit note for throat of any bird,
Bends closer now—doth more rejoice
At liquid, low tones heard.
The lips that kissed and kissed her cheek,
And left all day a warm, red glow,
Thirst with the wish they dare not speak
For one cold, soft as snow.
What more ? One clasps the pale wild flowers
He gave her once, with all love’s trance;
On those that blushed in brightest hours
The other deigns to glance.
A cold line to the trusting heart
That pierces it anti! ’tis dead;
And all youth’s love poured out to art,
Who smiles and shakes her head.
One wed to gold as she would be;
One thro’ the years too late grown wise;
And one who looks across life's sea
So young with wet, dark eyes.
[Written for The Sunny South.]
The Woman Fiend.
Ill AM OLD CONTRIBUTOR.
The grand old mountains in the distance, the
faint glimpses of far-away cities, the sparkling,
rushing river, the rocks and waterfalls, the
bread, flawery plain, the busy vpity, and over all
the purplish, golden haze of an Italian sunset.
This is the picture upon which I wish my read
ers to fix their mind’s eye. And see ! away up
on the side of yonder distant mount hangs, as
though in mid-air, a half-ruined castle, wild and
gloomy and weirdly grand, with its mossy towers
pointing to heaven. The rock upon which it is
built seems as though it would be incomplete
without the castle; the castle as though no other
place could be found so fitting as this whereon
to build it. Through a wide cleft of the moun
tain on the left flows the river Teverone, leaping
from rock to rock, laving the outer wall of the
castle, dashing over a rocky barrier some fifty
feet in height, gently sparkling over the plain
below, and passing through the towns of Paolo
and Tivoli, is lost in a larger stream miles and
Near the foot of the mountains, encircled by a
grove of olive trees, a graceful villa reared its
walls, forming a brilliant contrast to the-gloomy,
grand old castle above.
Fair and lovely as the rosy dawn, the beauti
ful Amalia Guercino dwelt in the villa with her
Cruel and haughty, yet grandly handsome,
Aloredo, Count of Civitelli, occupied his castle
on the mount.
And here a tiny cottage on the flowery bank
of the river, near where it enters the city, claims
our attention, for within its walls there dwells a
young artist who has but recently made this
lovely spot his home, living retired, with one
faithful servitor, not rich apparently, but far
happier in his humble home than the haughty
Count in his lordly castle.
Aloredo, the lord, and Tlieodoric, the artist,
are both suitors for the hand of Amalia, and the
artist has been smiled upon. Unknowing and
unknown, he had come to Tivoli some three
months before, an l with his brush earned a liv
ing for his servant and himself. Soon he was
called in to transfer the features of the young
girl to his canvas, and from that day the woo
ing of Aloredo prospered not. Until now, Ama
lia had looked upon him kindly though not lov
ingly, and he had hoped for success after a time.
He could hope this no longer, and ill could his
proud spirit bear defeat. He, the first favorite
of the Duke of Tivoli: he, who had but to smile
upon a friend and his fortune was made—-to
frown upon an enemy and he was lost; he, the
mighty, had been firmly refused by the girl
whom he had honored with his preference ! It
was not to be endured. He had set his heart
upon having her, just as he might have set his
fancy upon some costly toy. and he would not
be denied. The Duke of Tivoli was his master
and friend; nay. more, he was the cousin.of
Amalia, the head of her house, and he could, he
would compel this fair maiden to bestow her
hand upon his favorite. He would away to the
Duke at once, his request would be granted, and
then not only the fair maid herself, but her
glowing vineyards, her tertile fields and heavy
eoffers would" be his. If the Duke said it should
be so, there were none to say him nay, and all
would be well.
On this same sunset eve of which we have
spoken, he passed the villa and the cottage on
his way to Tivoli. The Duke was walking in
his garden, and graciously held out his hand as
the Count drew near.
“Where have you been. Civitelli? AVhat have
you found in yonder gloomy castle to charm you
away from your master for so long a time?"
| asked the Duke reproachfully.
THE LADY AMALIA SEIZED BY THE DUKE'S MESSENGERS.
“ Send away your attendants, my lord, and I “Three days,” answered Paulo, wondering
will answer you,” replied Aloredo, bowing low', what all these questions meant.
With a wave of his hand, the Duke dismissed j “If she is too ill to see any but her most inti-
his followers, and turned with an air of aroused mate friends, why did she receive the stranger,
curiosity toward his faiorite. j Theodoric?”
“Now then, Aloredo, what is it?” 1 Paul’s face flushed brightly.
“A woman, my lord,” he answered, smiling. “He is an intimate friend of mine, my lord.”
“A woman! You are jesting, Count!” j “Of yours, and of hers, too, I suppose,” ex-
“No, my lord,” replied Aloredo, with a slight ' claimed the Duke.
frown wrinkling his forehead, “I am in sad,
sober earnest. The lady of my love has scorned
“ Who is the lady, Aloredo?” asked the Duke,
an answering frown darkening his brow. “I
wonder there is a woman who could deny your
suit. Does she know your position, Count?”
“ She knows me well, my lord, for it is of your
cousin. Amalia Guercino, that I am speaking.”
“Amalia ! Is it possible that you have allowed
your fancy to be caught by that child? I am
astonished, Civitelli. And she has refused you.
Did you say she had refused yon?”
“ She has, my lord; she has rejected me coldly
and firmly. I asked her to take time to consider;
but no, she would have not a moment for reflec
tion—her mind was already made up. Nothing—
no inducement that I could hold out would ever
prevail with her to become my wife. That is
what she said, my lord; judge you if it is a re
“Did she give you no reason for this denial?"
“None, my lord; but I suspect she has an
other lover whom she favors,” answered Aloredo,
“Jealous !” cried the Duke, laughing. “Why,
my friend, you are far advanced in your experi
ence of the tender passion. Aloredo really in
love ! I can hardly credit the avowal!”
“You may laugh, my lord; I am glad it af
fords you amusement; but I assure you I am in
no humor for laughing myself.”
“Nay, I’ll laugh no more,” returned the Duke.
“I perceive you are in earnest; I will be so too.
You think she has another lover; who is he?”
“ I suspect the young stranger, Theodoric,
“Theodoric, the artist! Surely your jeal
ousy has made you unreasonable, Aloredo.
Think you that one of my house would wed a
nameless stranger? Why do you suspect him?”
“I will tell you, my lord. Yesterday evening,
I went to her house, and they told me she was
ill and could not see me. Not half an hour after
ward, I saw the artist enter the door; it was two
hours before he lett her."
“He may have been painting her portrait,”
said the Duke.
“In the evening, my lord?” returned the
Count, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously.
“True, I will see to this. Ah! there comes
Paulo. He has been with his cousin all day. I
will ask him if she is ill. Paulo, come here !"
In obedience to this summons, a bright, hand
“Why don’t you answer, boy?”
“ He is a friend, my lord.”
“A lover, perhaps ?” said the Duke.
“I doubt not he does love her, my lord,” re
plied Paulo reluctantly. “Who could help lov
ing my cousin Amalia?”
“ And does this low adventurer aspire to the
hand of Amalia Guercino?”-eried the Duke an
grily. “By my dukedom',..this thing shall go
no further! Go, Paulo; I have learned all that
I wish to know from you. And now, Aloredo,
what do you want me to do? I will help you in
this matter to the extent of my power !”
“Send for Amalia, my lord, and compel her
to marry me,” answered Aloredo viciously.
“I will do it!” answered the Duke." “Go
home now. Count. To-morrow I will send for
Amalia, and you shall fix the wedding-day your
Aloredo bowed low before his master, and
with many murmured words of thanks, v\ ent his
way. The Duke, looking savagely about him,
re-entered his house. He did not see a slight
form that, hidden in the dusky twilight, had
listened to his last words with the Count It
was Paulo, who rapidly ran over the plain to
ward his cousin’s house as soon as the Count
was out of sight, Paulo had left his cousin but
half an hour before, and he knew well where to
seek her. He paused a moment at the garden
gate, contemplating with loving eyes the picture
Out on the wide piazza sat Amalia, and at her
feet her lover, Theodoric, the artist. His soft-
blue eyes were fixed upon her face with a look
of rapt devotion, his fair hair was tossed care
lessly back from his white brow, where rested
the hand of Amalia. A light breeze rustled over
the plain, bearing the balmy breath of flowers
on its wings. The young moon hung trembling
in the clear sky, and all things breathed of
peace and love. Swiftly sped the moments
while they were seated thus, murmuring now
and again a word or two of love. But suddenly
there came a change. Paulo hastily entered the
garden, and springing up the steps, reached
Amalia’s side with a bound.
“The Duke, my father, knows all!” he ex
claimed with panting breath.
And what does he say ?” asked Amalia, the
we can send for your mother. I would gladly
sacrifice an empire for your sake; how readily,
then, a dukedom.”
“I haven’t an idea what you are talking about,
Theodoric!” exclaimed Paulo; “and I don’t
think you know how queerly you do talk. But
we have no time to spare. Fly with him Amalia;
von can but be brought back. Listen to me,
Theodoric. Make Amalia your wife this very
night; then, if you are overtaken, how can they
force her to be the wife of another?”
“Shall it be so, Amalia?” cried Theodoric,
• “It is very sudden,” answered Amalia; “yet
if no better plan offer, I am willing.”
“ Go, then, Paulo, and bring to us some wor
thy priest who will unite us. Do you know of
svch an one?” asked Theodoric, clasping Amalia
with his arms.
“Yes, I know one. Father Antoine loves Ama
lia dearly, and will not refuse her this service.”
“Yon are right, Paulo, ’ answered Amalia, lift
ing her head from Theodoric’s bosom; “ he will
not refuse me. Go bring him, Paulo. Tell him
that I am in sore perplexity. He knows how
cruel is Aloredo of Civitelli-how stern, Luigi I m “ sler ’ lu “'
of Tivoli. He will not refuse me his aid; and ; J, g . as - a Pp ene ~ .
may Heaven bless you, my dear cousin and ' - S P nllgl - ng from - hls horse, Theodoric rushed
your heart with sad thoughts. Give me but time
; to place Amalia in safety, and I will return for
you. I will leave yon now for a short time. I
| must make some hasty preparations at my cot
tage, and then I will return for her.”
“ Better take her away at once, and make your
preparations afterward,” said Paulo, glancing
“Surely, you magnify the danger, Paulo,” re
turned Theodoric. “You forget that she is my
wife now, and they cannot take her from me.”
“Theodoric !” cried Paulo impatiently, “you
are older than I am, but you are as innocent as
a babe. You must have been shut up in a con
vent all your life. They can’t marry Amalia to
any one else, but I am sure they can take her
away from you. You need not look so brave and
determined; they would find means to put you
out of the way, and then who would protect
“Your words are wise, my child,” said Father
Antoine, who had been listening silently to their
conversation; “but do not lose patience. The
odoric, yon would do well to give heed to him;
you do not know the Duke as we do. An hour
will be sufficient time for your preparations; go
then, and when you return, Amalia will be ready
“In an hour, then,” said Theodoric; and kiss
ing his newly-made bride, he hastened away,
followed by the priest.
When they reached the garden gate, Tbeodo-
ric pressed a purse into his companion's hand,
with the whispered words:
“For the poor.”
“But you are yourself poor,” said the priest,
“and cannot afford this sum.”
“ Rest content, father; I have enough and to
spare. If more is needed, apply to me.”
“My son,” answered the priest, “I will give
you a few words of advice in return for your
kindness. Hasten! If you love your life, hasten !
If you love Amalia—I know well what I am say
He turned quickly away as he finished speak
ing, and was lost in the shadows of night.
“My faith!” murmured Theodoric, with a
vague fear disturbing his hitherto happy secu
rity, “ it seems there is some unknown danger
threatening me. I will secure my safe-guard
and jewels (I must have them for my journey),
bid Miguel follow me, and return at on’e to
He continued his course in a swift run and
soon reached his cottage, where he found Mig
uel awaiting him.
“I was just about to go out to seek for you,”
said Miguel, as Theodoric bounded into the
“ Haste, Miguel!” was the reply. “ Go bring
the jewels; we must away from here. This hour
just gone, the Lady Amalia has given her hand
to me in marriage. Her cousin, the Duke of
Tivoli, had destined her to be the bride of Alo
redo. They will doubtless pursue us; we must
“What will Master Percy say?” exclaimed
Miguel, lifting a plank in the floor and bring
ing forth a small box of jewels.
“When he knows her, he will say that it is
well,” answered Theodoric; and while he spoke
he was carefully securing a paper in an inner
“ But why not declare your name and station
to the Duke? He would not dare to say no to
yon,” said Miguel.
“And lose my head for my pains?” replied
Theodoric. “Go get the horses, Miguel; I am
ready. We will find the Lady Amalia’s own
pony waiting for her. We must lose no time.”
With swift hands, Miguel completed the nec
essary preparations, and within the hour allowed
by Father Antoine, they reached the garden gate.
“I see no lights, Miguel!” cried Theodoric,
in sudden alarm.
“No, master, there is not a glimmer. Some-
into the house, calling aloud for Amalia. No
She bent forward and kissed the boy’s cheek answer was ret V r . ned to>is frantic cries; and
as she ceased sneakine having procured .rom Miguel the means of mak-
' L i • . , ? e , ,, . . .. ing a light, he darted from room to room, still
Paulo immediately left the room and Amalia |
sought her mother, telling her, in a few words, ca “? ng for Amalla '
of the urgent necessity that had brought her
bridal hour so near. Theodoric stood beside
her while she spoke, weaving sweet white flow
ers among the rippling masses of her hair.
“This is very unexpected,” answered her
mother; “and though I would rather have had
a longer time for preparation, yet I feel no fear
in resigning you to Theodoric’s care.”
“Does she not look like a bride, dear mad-
ame?” said Theodoric fondly.
“She does, indeed; but it would be better if
she would exchange that white robe for some-
The servants sleeping in the upper part of the
house were awakened by his cries, but they
could tell him nothing. Scarcely a trace left of
the bride; only, here in the room where they
were married, a chair overtuned, the muslin
curtain torn from the window as if grasped by
violent hands, and the sweet blossoms he had
woven in Amalia’s hair scattered on the floor.
They were gone,- and this was all! Yet no—here
upon the table lies a handkerchief stained with
“Alas! they have taken her away—perhaps
murdered her ! What shall I do ?” groaned poor
thing more substantial, if you are to leave the T> ] j , ■ , th handkerchief
house to-night,” replied the mother. 1 , e} es nxecl u P° n tne , K . r c ,
“There will not be time inst now ” answered “Pardon me, my master, responded Miguel;
Theodoric; “for if I mistake not, th^re is Paulo 8ure J? if >' 0U ™ to declare yourself—”
now „ ’ ’ ! “I would as surely lose my life, answered
Theodoric. “I do not know why you cannot
understand this, Miguel. Luigi of Tivoli is the
favorite of the Archduke Sforza. and he could
While he spoke, Paulo, accompanied by an
aged priest, entered the room.
But a few minutes passed, and with no other
witnesses than Paulo and the mother of Amalia,
they were married. While the young bride was
still pressed to her mother's bosom. Paulo inter
“Dear aunt, we cannot wait for these embra
ces, sweet as they are. Theodoric, now that my
cousin is your wife, I hope that you will take
color fading from her cheek. her away from here quickly !”
“ That he will have none of it! Look to your- | “Why, Paulo !” exclaimed Amalia, in a gently |
self. Theodoric; the Count of Civitelli is your I reproachful tone; “are you so anxious to get
some youth of fifteen years came rapidly up the most bitter enemy. Look to yourself and to j rid of me?”
garden path, and bowed to the Duke and his Amalia!” j “No, dear cousin; you know that I am not.
companion. “Speak plainly, dear Paulo. What evil do You know .right well that it is for your sake that
" \\ here have you been all day. Paulo?” asked you fear?” asked Theodoric anxiously. I hurry you: but you do not know my father as
the Duke, though he knew perfectly well. “The Dukew-ill send for Amalia in the morn- well as I do.”
“ I have been spending the day with my cousin ing,” answered Paulo; “and when once he has • The boy shivered slightly as he spoke.
her in the castle, all is lost, for he will force her i “Dear Paulo, I thank you for your kind
to become the wife of Aloredo of Civitelli!” thoughtfulness,” said Amalia, gently pressing
“Ah! Amalia, if you had but fled with me j his hand: and then turning to Theodoric, she
when I first urged you, you would not have asked: “When will we leave this house, Theo-
been in his power now,” exclaimed Theodoric doric?”
do his master no greater service than to put me
out of his way. Miguel, if you value my life,
breathe not a word. I must wait until Percy
tells me that all is well before I can claim my
own. Do not, then, continue to torture me with
the shadow of a power which, if I possessed it,
would at once return Amalia to my side.”
“What, then, will you do?" asked Miguel.
“Follow her!” answered Theodoric. “And
remember, Miguel, not a word of Percy; and
don’t forget that I am Theodoric, the artist.”
Amalia, father,” answered Paulo.
“Why have you been there, Paulo?” contin
ued the Duke. “Is she ill?”
“Not ill. my lord,” answered Paulo, with a
rapid glance at the Count, “but far from well.”
company, is she not ? ” regretfully.
Too ill to receive
asked the Duke softly.
“Yes. my lord, unless a very intimate friend,
“ How long has she been so indisposed?” en
quired the Duke kindly.
"By morning’s light, sweet wife,” answered
“Alas ! it is too late to think of flight now,” Theodoric, smiling in Amalia's blushing face,
replied Amalia, clinging to his arm. “What “Oh, guard her well!” cried the mother,
shall we do. Theodoric?” “Stic lifts npvpr rpt left mv cidp ”
shall we do, Theodoric ?
“If you are willing to fly with me, even now,
Amalia, we will go. When safe in another land,
She has never yet left my side.’
“Dear madame and mother,” said Theodoric,
respectfully kissing her hand, “do not trouble
When Theodoric left the villa for the purpose
of securing his jewels and papers, he was watched
at a distance by four armed men, who scarcely
waited until he was out of sight before entering
“A note from his Highness,” said the fore
most,” removing his cap and bowing low to
“Read it, Paulo,” gasped Amalia, her fingers
trembling so violently that she could not open
the elaborately folded billet.
Paulo took it, and his cheeks grew pale as he