Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

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 INSTINCT PRINT