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JOHN H. SEALS, ■ raopRiE^^
ATLANTA. GA„ SATHtDAV. S1TT. IS. |S75.
terms,
i.For The Sunuy South.
LOVE’S MIRAC LE
Thiiik of a <lel), a lonely dell,
Deep hid in forent wild and drear;
No flowers bloom neath that blighting spell:
Its turf is dank, its herbage blear;
In mist it lies,
And ne'er the skies
Shine on it with a radiance clear.
Thiuk that a storm with master power
Bends the tall trees of giant strength.
They yield—they break, and in that hour
The breezes sweep its breadth and length;
With vigorous life
The air is rife,|
Aud all is beauty, joy and strength.
The sun in radiance strong and bright
Bonn o'er the dell a liquid gold;
High summer sheds its glorious light
Where all was once so dead aud cold;
Aud now uprise
Unto the skies
The songs of birds so blithe aud bold.
That dell, dear one, was my sad heart:
That storm, thy love's resistless power;
That sun - its rays of beauty dart
Still through my life, aud many a flower,
With beauteous bloom
Aud sweet perfume.
Now make that waste an Eden bower.
her
[Written for The Sunuy South.J
EDITHA;
OR.
The Woman Fiend.
BY A \ OLD CONTRIBUTOR.
CHAPTER VI.
When Editha boldly declared that she knew
where to find the missing Archduke, the Duch
ess sprung from her seat and faced the English j
beautj. her eyes gLowing «ike coals of fire.
“And unless’my demands are complied with,
I will declare to the people where he is to be
found. I alone can do this, for I alone know
where he is,” continued Editha.
The eyes of the Duchess gleamed, She softly
drew nearer to the bold girl, and said:
“ Tell me where he is, Editha.”
“No, madame; I have my price for that secret,”
answered Editha.
“But, if your wishes are granted, how can I
tell that some other may not come forward and
betray me?” said the Duchess, cunningly.
“ Dismiss that fear, madame: 1 alone hold the
secret,” answered Editha, forgetting her usual
caution.
In anstant the Duchess sprang upon her. hold
ing a tiny dagger in her hand.
“Let it die with you, then !” she cried.
But she met with defeat in the very moment
of her expected victory. Editha. whose slender
fingers were springs of steel, grasped her by the
arm and threw her backward as easily as if the
stately Duchess had been a child.
“Now. madame," said Editha. standing over
the discomfited woman, “ I want you to under
stand one thing, so that yon may never make a
like attempt on me again. Then is not a man
in your palace that could grasp your arm as I
did just now. Look at it! You will bear that
mark for days to come: and if you try to use
that dagger again. I will transfer my fingers
from vour arm to yonr throat! I hope you un
derstand this. And more: if you had killed me.
you would have destroyed yourself. I have pre
pared papers which, in the event of my death,
will be placed in the hands of the Count of
Pavia.”
The Duchess, for the first time in her life, felt
completely subdued. Her beautiful head drooped
upon her bosom. She knew herself no match
for this young stranger with nerves of steel.
“You have conquered,” she said at last, lift
ing her head: “bnt in yielding to your ambi
tion, you are destroying yourself. Let us con
verse quietly concerning this matter. When we
have finished, if you still desire to marry my
son. I will give my consent."
“That is well." answered Editha. leading the
Duchess back to her seat and standing respect
fully before her. “I will listen to you atten
tively
“Well, then," pursued the Duchess, “perhaps
you are not aware that my son Garcia has none
of the blood of Sforza in his veins ?”
•• How. madame !" exclaimed Editha. starting.
“I do not understand yon. Pray explain.”
“ He is not the son of the Duke of Sforza.”
“Ah!" said Editha: “ but yon alone know
that. It makes no difference to me.”
“Pardon me." answered the Duchess; “it is
known to all. He was born more than a year
after the Duke left Sforza."
A heavy frown contracted Editha’s brow.
"So, then, your son is Archduke only by suf
ferance. and the Connt of Pavia should "be in
his place, as the true heir is not here.”
•• You are right," exclaimed the Dnchess. eag
erly. " I am speaking truth in all that I say to
yon: if you doubt my words, test them. I have
told you that ’ ~ n is entirely out of the line
of succession; and now I will tell you that not
three months ago Garcia wa- - >t upon in the
street, and would have been killed had it not
been for the Count of Pavia. Shall I tell you
what he said to the people ?”
“ Proceed, madame: I listen." up- ’ered Edi
tha gloomily, for she feared thrt h. . oes were
again to be crushed.
“ He told them." continued the Duchess, “that
they need never expect him to wear the ducal
coronet, for he had sworn it should never encir
cle his brows. He told them that his daughter,
after himself, was the next in th" ’’ne of Sforza:
that she would one day be their ruler: and that
he thev had set upon. Garcia, was betrothed to
And was he?” asked Editha.
‘EDITHA GRASPED HER BY THE ARM AND THREW HER BACKWARD AS EASILY AS IF THE STATELY DUCHESS HAD BEEN A'CHILD."
“Not then,” replied the Duchess; “it was a
happy thought of the Count’s to save Garcia’s
life. * The people hailed his -declaration with a
shout of delight, and before snnset we had made
true that which he asserted."
“So. then, he is betrothed to this cousin?”
[ “Yes.”
“And it is only because he is to marry the
supposed heiress that he is allowed to hold his
position?" pursued Editha.
“Yes,” said the Duchess again.
“And if he were to marry me, the people
would instantly revolt?”
“Yes," was still the only answer.
“And I would very likely lose my life?” said
Editha, with a cold smile.
“Yes,” repeated the Dnchess.
“Whereat you would be deeply grieved,” con
tinued Editha, with a sneer.
“ Yes,” answered the Dnchess; “for your death
would very likely be preceded by my son’s and
followed by my own.”
“A most excellent reason !” said Editha; “and
now, when yon have answered me one question
truly, I will not detain yon much longer. Why
does* the Connt of Pavia preserve your son’s life?”
The Duchess flushed angrily.
“ Is it not enough that he pleases to do so?”
she asked.
“No. I must know his reason for so doing."
answered the girl. " The knowledge might in
some manner affect the determination I shall
make.”
“It cannot affect you in any way," answered
the Dnchess, who seemed strangely reluctant to
answer Editha’s question.
“I can judge of that much better after you
have told me the Count’s reason,” said Editha.
“I may choose to marry him, as he is the next
heir to the throne.”
“Do so—if you can,” replied the Duchess,
proudly.
“What is his reason !” asked Editha again.
“You insist upon knowing?”
“I do.”
•• He loves me.'” said the Dnchess, gazing defi
antly into the eager face before her.
“Heavens! what a fool!” exclaimed Editha;
“to sacrifice a ducal crown for love! Enough,
madame. I have determined. I love a crown,
bnt I love my head better; and as I am con
vinced that I should lose both if I were to accept
your son. I will even content myself with the
coronet of a Conntess. Please inform the Count
of Civitelli that I will accept his proposal upon
cc ndition that the marriage be immediately con
tracted, and he must take me away from here.”
“And the secret. Editha !” cried the Duchess,
eagerly. “Yon will not betray me, will you?”
“No, your Highness; for I expect yonr son to
make my husband his prime favorite, and shower
wealth and honors upon him when we return to
court, as we shall very soon do?" answered Edi
tha, coolly.
“You spoke of being married at once. Edi
tha. Y'ou have seen the Connt but once, and
have never spoken to him; how do you know—”
“Pa dor me.” interrupted Editha. “He is
very handsome, and I like a handsome man.
Besides, you forget it is his coronet that I want —
not him. It has been the dream of my life to
be a Duchess. I tried it in England and failed:
I'll be revenged for it. too ! I tried it here and
failed: I’ll have my reward for that, tco ! And
now I will try to satisfy my - df with abundant
wealth and the title of Countess? Inform the
Count of my decision, if you please. If I marry
him at all. it must be soon, and I will return to
Tivoli with him.”
“So be it,” answered the Dnchess.
CHAPTER VII.
Lolita, daughter of the noble Count of Pavia,
was about to leave her convent retreat forever.
Within its gray walls had she found the only
home she had ever truly known. Two brief vis
its to the grand and gloomy palace where her
father lived had bnt endeared her still more to
this pleasant abode, where the sweet, cheerful
nuns affectionately supplied the place of the
mother she scarcely remembered. Sorrowfully
she bade them adieu; weeping, she was clasped
in their arms, and kneeling, received the bless
ing of the stately and noble-hearted abbess, to
whom she was especially dear. But when she
had left them in the inner hall, and accompa
nied by her page, her maid, and a noble lady of
the court, whom her father had sent to accom
pany her, she had repaired to the outer court
yard, where she found her escort and equipage
were in waiting, she found that the carriage
was not quite ready to receive her. Something
was wrong with the elegant, gold-mounted har
ness, and there would be a delay of half an-hour.
Lolita determined to take advantage of this in
terval to pay a parting visit to the grave of her
mother, who shortly before her death had found
in the convent an asylum of peace in which to
spend the remnant of her disappointed young
life. By her own request, she had been interred
here instead of being laid in state in the impos
ing mausoleum of her ancestors.
“By yonr leave, madame, I will go alone,”
Lolita said to the haughty court beauty who ac
companied her. “ Be kind enough to wait for
me here. I will return before the carriage is
ready. ”
She made her way through the blooming shrub
bery to a spot dim with the shade of laurels and
cypress, among whose dark-green foliage gleamed
the marble tomb of her mother. She sat down
beside it, and leaning her arms upon the carved
slab, gave herself up to reflections that seemed
of no cheerful character. Tears gathered on her
long lashes and stole down her cheeks, and her
eyes were raised tc heaven / sorrowful appeal:
for indeed this beautiful, '^gh-born girl saw
opening before her a life frrn of dark trials.
From her father's letter, and from intelligence
imparted oy the lady who had been sent to ac
company her, Lolita understood why she had
been summoned so imperatively to the Court of
Sforza. It was to beconu the bride of the Arch
duke Garcia, whom she had seen but once, but
of whose acts of imbecile cruelty and pompous
vanity she had heard enough to excite her dis
gust. Once before, her father had spoken to
her of this marriage, and she had hoped that
her tears and her timid appeal, for the sake of
her dead mother, had turned him from his pur
pose. She little understood how firmly the syren
arts of the beautiful Duchess held him in bond
age and made him the slave of her will.
Lolita knew nothing of her father’s passion
for the Duchess of Sforza—a passion the knowl
edge of which had broken her mother's heart;
but in her last visit to her father's palace, she
had been presented to the royal dame, and her
pure instinct had at once recognized an evil
woman and an implacable enemy under the
Duchess’ mask of smiling friendliness.
The courtly lady who had brought her father's
letter had spoken of the destiny that awaited
Lolita as most enviable and brilliant, and even
the meek sisters had been impressed by its
grandeur, and had mingled unwonted deference
with their affectionate farevHls: but Lolita's
soul revolted against both mother and son, and
she shuddered at the fate she felt herself power
less to avert; for in those days the paternal will
was absolute law, especially as regarded the mar
riage of daughters, who were betrothed while in
their convent seclusiou. without permitting them
a sight of the bridegroom elect. Lolita, with all
her repugnance, had no thought of opposing
her father's will. She felt herself powerless as
the lamb led to the sacrifice, unless, indeed,
Heaven should intervene.
“ Oh, my mother !” she exclaimed aloud, rais
ing her beautiful eyes to heaven, “if you had
lived, surely your tears, your entreaties, might
have saved me from the wretched fate this mar
riage will bring upon me.”
She paused in deep dejection, remembering
her old nurse’s story that her mother’s life had
been shortened by her father’s neglect and in
difference. She was startled from her gloomy
musings by a rustle of the thick branches near
her. Turning hastily, she saw appronching her
the figure of a man in a plain citizen's dress,
but with a stately bearing and with a noble and
prepossessing countenance. She rose hurriedly
and tnrned'to fly—for those were lawless times,
i and there was every danger for young and nn-
1 protected females hut the stranger’s winning
smile and deferential air reassured her.
“Pardon my boldness, lady,” he said, doffing
i his cap and bending his graceful head before
1 her. “I would speak to you a moment in pri-
’ vate. I bring no imperial letters to commend
me to your courtesy, yet I wish to prove myself
your friend. Will you hear me a moment ?”
His firm, sweet tones had an English accent,
and his deep-blue English eye was full of truth.
Lolita seated herself again, wondering at her
own temerity and at the fascination of this bold :
stranger.
“Lady, report declares you betrothed to Gar
cia, Archduke of Sforza. Is the rumor true?”
She bent her head, while a crimson blush
mantled her cheek.
“And will you sacrifice your beauty and inno
cence to him Can you love him—the imbecile,
the usurper, the coward ?”
“Never! never!” cried Lolita, with flashing
eyes. “Once, only once, have I seen his face;
bnt I have heard enough to make me shudder.”
The stranger smiled, apparently well pleased.
“And you will marry him without love? It
is not thus with the maidens of my free land.
In England, a true-hearted maiden would hold
it unwomanly to give herself to one whom she
does not love.”
Lolita looked up haughtily, but the earnest,
admiring eyes of the stranger caused her to flush
and drop her lids in haste.
“ What can I do?” she murmured. “A prince’s
will, a father’s command,—what power can come
between these? What can save me from this
marriage ?"
“ Do you wish to be saved from it, lady ?”
“ I do ! I do !” she cried eagerly.
“Then, what if a simple Englishman should
interpose between these high and mighty pow
ers, and pledge you upon his honor, that has
never been stained by falsehood, to save you
from this marriage?”
“It would be a bold promise,” said the girl,
glancing up shyly into the noble face beside
her, "and it would be a bold man who gave it.”
“ Thank God. he is a bold man !” said the
stranger, smiling, “though he depends only on
God and his good sword. Listen to me, lady—
time passes. I am here to entreat you to find
some pretext to postpone this marriage bnt a
few days, and I assure you I will prevent its
being consummated.”
“ But my father ”
“He will concur in its annulment.”
“And the Archduke ”
“Will have no power to force you to his wishes.
The reign of the usurper will l>e over; the right
ful heir will then occupy the throne.”
“I do not understand.”
“I will make it plain, that you may believe
me and he reassured. Y’ou know that the former
Duke of Sforza fled the country with his infant
son——-”
“Yes, and perished, he and the child, by ship
wreck. ”
“That was a false tale, fabricated by the Duch
ess and her hirelings. The Duke, deserted by
his wife and persecuted by his enemies, took
refuge in England. His troubles made him mor
bid and melancholy, and he retired from the
haunts of men and lived in a kind of cave among
the mountains, letting his son grow up in deep
est seclusion and keeping him ignorant of his
higli rank and princely claims, though instruct
ing him in art and science and in the rich stores
of ancient literature. The old Duke became
infirm, and chance gave him an asylum under
my father’s roof while yet we knew nothing of
his real name and rank, nor did we discover it
until after his death.” .
“He died, then?”
“ He was murdered for the sake of the cross
of magnificent diamonds that he wore always
beneath his vest as an amulet, — murdered by a
woman.”
“Holy mother! by a woman?”
“A beautiful fiend in woman's guise — my
father’s second wife, who had inveigled him
into marrying her and elevating her from her
lot as the widow of a peasant, whom I now know
that she strangled in his bed in order to make a
more ambitious marriage.”
“She must have been a fiend indeed.”
“That is not the full list of her crimes. She
was not at first suspected of the Duke’s murder.
He was found dead in his bed, with the purple
marks of fingers upon his throat, and no suspi
cion attached to her until the was caught in the
act of a second similar murder,—with her fingers
upon the throat of my father and her husband,
whom she wished to destroy, in the hope that
she might marry Adrielo, the son of the recluse,
whom certain papers had proved to be heir to
the grand duchy of Sforza. It was Adrielo him
self who came upon her in her fiendish act,—it
was he who prevented the murder of my father,
and for this I owe him a debt of gratitude. For
this good deed,' as well as because of the love I
bear to him and to justice, I am h*re to aid hi*"
in recovering his rights. Though no coward, he’
is easily discouraged, and is timid as a child
where self-assertion is required. Indeed, he is
but a child in the knowledge of the world, from
which he was always secluded. When he came
here and found Garcia and his mother seemingly
firmly seated in power, potent in wealth and
pride, and domineering over a servile court and
people, he lost hope, especially since he had
never been ambitious, and retired to the loveliest
spot he could find, there to indulge his genius
as an artist, while his slender wants were more
than supplied by the sale of some of the rare
jewels his father had preserved and brought
with him in the small steel casket that contained
his papers. At the Inst accounts I received of
him, he had lost sight of all ambitious desires
in the sweet dream of love—at which, though I
chide him, I can hardly wonder!” added the
stranger, with a sudden, sweet change of voice
and a glance into Lolita’s dark eyes
She blushed under his ardent gaze, and asked
hastily:
“What of the woman—the murderess?”
“She was never brought to justice for her
crimes. Regnrd for my father’s name, which she
bore, secured her from just punishment, as well
as from public disclosure. A large sum of money
was settled npon her. on condition that she left
the country and returned to it no more. She
left expeditiously, and I have never seen her
since.”
“And you ”
“I am here, as I have told you, lady, for the
sake of justice and friendship; I am here to
wrest power from tne hands of ignorant usurp
ation, and restore it to virtue and nobleness. I
have worked zealously to this end. Under dif
ferent disguises, I have mingled with the people.
I have learned their deep discontent with the
present government—their detestation of Garcia
: and his crafty and cruel mother. They are ripe
for revolt; all they want is to be properly organ
ized and to behold at their head a true descend
ant of their former beloved Duke. I have used
time, money and effort liberally for the past
three months, and now all is ready for the final
blow that shall unseat the usurper and place
Adrielo upon the throne.”
“Y’ou are zealous in the cause,” said Lolita,
feeling her heart thrill as she looked on the
proud eye and gallant bearing of the speaker.
“Y’on will not blame me; it is the cause of
right, of gratitude, of friendship,—nay, lady,
may I not add of lore? Have yon not permitted
me to make it your cause?”
“I have!” she cried; “willingly, gladly. Be
my deliverer, and any gift in my power shall be
yours. ”
“I ask no guerdon but one kiss of this fair
hand,” said the graceful stranger, laying his own
firm, shapely hand upon hers, that rested like a
lily on the gray tombstone.
“Nay. that is too small a reward for such a
service,” said Lolita.
“Say you so, most beautiful? Then be my
guerdon a kiss from those sweet lips,” said the
bold stranger, with his ardent gaze full upon
her blushing face.
She bent her head in silence, aud at this mo
ment a clear, shrill voice called her name from
a short distance in the direction of the court
yard.
“Mademoiselle Lolita,” said a voice with a
foreign accent, “ the carriage waits you. Where
are you, that your page cannot find yon ?”
At the sound of the voice, the stranger started
perceptibly.
“Who called you then?” he asked of Lolita.
“A lady of the court, whom my father sent to
accompany me—a noble English lady, who is in
high favor at court,” said Lolita hurriedly, after
she had responded to the call.
“I have heard of her; I must see her. Sweet
lady, will you remain here until she joins you?
I will conceal myself behind these trees.”
In a few moments, Editha Beaumont—for n
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