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SOUTH man, who was once as pure as you. When you world, and was about to leave forever its heart- get this letter, I shall be dead. But if you turn lessness. and place the stone walls of a cloister from my last cry of agony; if you will not heed between her and its sin and corruption. Pale, my prayer —may the curses of the lost soul who determined, almost to sternness, she entered pens these words follow yon forever. Living or the little parlor and confronted her fate, dying, may my spirit haunt you to blight your : The young man who had awaited her coming life and drag you with me down, down to per- had not been idle; in fact, he was about as profit- dition. ably employed as men of his calibre are apt to “Kathleen Trevalyn, will you take my bless- be: leaning against the mantel in what he imag ing or my curse ? Will you care for my child— ' h is child ? The letter fell from the girl’s trembling hand; the words danced before her eyes like words of fire, and seared and scorched themselves into her brain. She stooped and lifted the white card from the sand—593 ! The figures seemed living demons writhing and twisting themselves about her heart. She felt like the branded con vict. What should she do ? Should she obey the ined to be a very graceful attitude, with eyes of anxiety fixed upon the spotless lustre of his patent leather boots. His anxiety did not pro ceed from a fear of Kathleen’s answer to his proposal—oh ! no; serene in his own self-com placency, he felt perfectly secure as to her im pending decision. Like many other men, he , had no soul above his boots. She came straight up to him; he drew a chair forward, but she motioned it away. I have come,” she said, in low, strained [For The Sunny South.] MORNING SONG.* BY CHARLES W. HUBNER. Over the sky, Bright and high, Gleams the golden morning suu. Light hath darkness overcome; The happy world smiles welcome to the Day'. So to thee Eternity Shall dawn, my soul, "when earth has passed away. Over the hill All is still; You can scarcely hear a breath. Mid the tree-tops, calm as death, The little bird is silent in his nest Only wait; Soon or late You too, my soul, shall one day find your rest. -Suggested by Goethe's exquisite little “ Night Song.’ see what the others, seated in the light, failed to perceive—that from under the hood of the croak muflied about his head, the eyes of the silent man were wide open and gleaming like two red coals of fire. General Opede, flattered by the interest of the there is any danger of it—only a possibility” “Very well, I shall take your advice. But come, breakfast is waiting.,’ “Go on, I will soon join you.” After breakfast, when they were preparing to mount. General Opede asked Orand where \yas demand in the letter? The woman’s nature ; half whisper, “to give you my answer.” struggled with her pride. No one but a woman He bowed, half nervously beneath her un can understand the motive that prompted her , flinching gaze. decision. But that decision was formed. Quix- “You—aw—dc me great honor, Miss Treva- otiic it might be, but, once made, she would ^ lyn. May I—aw—may I hope?’, hold to it unswervingly; it was her nature. She : He placed one white hand, as he spoke, on decided to obey the mandate of the unknown the left side of his delicate casimere vest, the writer. She would assume the guardianship of i place where a heart should have been had there this poor little waif on humanity’s broad sea. | been any room in his body to contain one; And Roy Wardleigh! At thought of liimr with his head on one sida, simpering like an she drew her breath quickly, and the colo- ; overgrown doll, he was too ludicrous. At any came and went in the girl’s clear cheeks. He 1 other time, under any other circumstances, was to her henceforth the impersonation of dis, i Kathleen would have indulged in a hearty honor, perfidy, everything vile, and unworthy laugh, but people do not laugh when they are her regard. No matter; it would make her sac- : signing their death-warrants, rifice to Le Grande all the easier. “Yes,” she said, simply, feeling all the time It was unnecessary for this unknown writer— j what a wretched farce it was, IFor Tbe Sunny Soutfi.] ELISE VON SCHUXL; -OK.- A WAIF S ADVENTURES. BY LOVELADY. CHAPTER XYIL—Continued. The traveler was Alphonse, the porter of the papal palace, whom we last saw assisting to lib erate Baron Von Schull. Six weeks have elapsed since then, and a few words will be necessary to explain why the worthy porter had so long post poned hi; " ~ intended visit to Front Abbey, his I have come to ' pilgrimage to his sister’s grave, and his search this miserable, wronged woman—to urge secrecy j say that, after you have heard all, if you still j for the bold and evil man who had compromised upon her; for no power on earth could draw the j wish me, I will’be your wife.” * j her honor, secret from her keeping. She took the card, j He seized both her small hands in his. With: Alphonse was not surprised when, the next j considerable reward was offered, he agreed, if and feet were tied securely he lay unresisting on and passing a hole through it, hung it upon a a gesture of disdain, which she could not re- i morning after the Bai’on’s release, he received a ! be felt well enough in the morning, to guide the snow. slender chain which she always wore about her press, she broke from his attempted embrace. 1 summons to appear before the Pope. He found them at least sufficiently far to place them out Not so with Conrad, who endeavored violently appreciative host, resumed his narration of his his horse. | own exploits, until, remembering the morrow’s “I never ride when I am well enough to journey, he asked concerning the possibility of walk,’’ said he, and Alphonse remembered to procuring a guide who could lead them over the | have seen no extra horse in the stable, but, he mountain by one of the short, unfrequented kept his own counsel, i ways, thereby hastening their journey. j “Are yon all going together?” asked Davie, “If this tempest were not so furious I might ’ and General Opede turned in his saddle and 1 find you a guide,” replied the host; “ as it is, I j looked the same query at the old man. know of no one, unless my neighbor, Orand, I “If you have no objection, I will go in your therein the corner, would undertake to pilot 1 company as far as our roads lie together,”, re- you. He lia$ been sick all day, but no one is I plied Alphonse. I better acquainted with these mountain passes, “Very well if you can keep up; and now let j and it ffiay be that he will feel well enough in us be off.” 1 the morning to accompany you:” The cavalcade moved off with Orand walkitag i General Opede peered into the darkness of in the lead. the Corner,' and*seeing 7 the man’s eyes closed, Snow encumbered the pathway, the road was : askedtn an undertone: very toilsome, and it was noon when they “ Is ht^R^ajfe.guicljg, good.host?” reached a perilous height where the narrow “As fajNn&’I know..he is reliable. Of one j path was bordered on one side by a steep pre- thing I am sure* Wt>ne is more capable, having eipice. spent his whole life in hunting over these Suddenly six men sprang from behind a pro- mountains. If he can be induced to undertake jecting rock which nearly blocked up the way,' it, he can carry you by the shortest route.” and rushed on the travelers. Three a piece "We had better ascertain to-night, then, what seemed to appropriate the soldiers; one at each he will do. He has had a good long nap—wake bridle held the horses fast while the others him, good host, and let us talk with him about pulled the riders down and secured their hands it.” behind them. The man seemed hard to arouse, but after re- It was the work of a moment, and the guide peated shakes and calls, he stretched his limbs, looked on in apparent surprise, and Alphonse in yawned, and opened his eyes, gruffly inquiring real fear. General Opede soon saw the futility who wanted him. With some difficulty he of any attempt at. resistance and began to pro- seemed to comprehend what was desired, com- : pose terms. With a threatening oath one of the plained still of severe headache, but when a j men bade him hold his peace and as his hand; neck and hid it in her bosom. It seemed to scorch and burn like figures of fire. 593 ! 593 ! The woods around her seemed to ring with the sound, and demon voices whis pered it in her ears. She arose to her feet and- staggered blindly away. Hardly had she set her face in the direction of the Ocean House, when Dennis crept out from a narrow ledge of rock, where he had been concealed, and approached the spot where Kath leen had been sitting. Something white lay upon the sand. It was a letter. Pouncing eagerly upon it, Dennis seized it, and placing it in his pocket, had just turned away when he came face to face with the woman in black. She stood with her head bent in the direction that the young girl had taken and She placed the distance of the room between them. “Wait,” she cried, “wait until I am your property ! Don’t touch me now, or I shall do something desperate !” Unable to attempt a suitable reply, he stood twisting his blonde mustache, his weak little eyes staring in amazement at the strange pro ceedings. With a terrible effort the girl recov ered herself. “Do you understand me, Mr. Le Grande,” she said, drawing a little nearer and transfixing him, with her cold, cold eyes, “ that I have no heart to give you, no love? ' “Did she hope fora respite on that plea? Le Grande smiled. Pshaw!” he ejaculated, “is that all? That watched her retreating form with a malignant does not trouble me—aw—in the least. You smile upon her cruel face. As she moved hast- " — ily away Dennis glanced at her narrowly. An odd look came into the Irishman’s face, a terri fied expression crept over his stolid features. He began to cross himself. “Be the holy powers above!” he ejaculated, wildly, “it is—sure, it is!” He waited for no further developments, but, know, miss Trevalyn, just how it is. I’ve a fine establishment, you know. If I do say it myself —aw—” he paused to rearrange the tie of his faultless cravat, “ and I’ve an income, well—aw —sufficient to run it, you know. I’ve the old family jewels, and plate, yon know; and some of the finest horses in New York, and all that sort of thing. Now, with these—aw—necessary auxi- clntcliing the letter which lay safely in the 1 liaries to comfort, a man must have a wife, you depths of his capacious pocket, he ran back to the Ocean House and to Professor Midnight’s room as though all the fiends of the lower re ion had been let loose upon his track. An hour later, Kathleen Trevalyn entered the cious dining-room and took her usual place he table. She was brilliantly beautiful in dress of white and sea-green, “a perfect Tndine,” Claude Lyndsay had laughingly as sured her. But there was a dangerous gleam in know ! “As another auxiliary,” interposed Kathleen, savagely. “Exactly.” He looked gratified at the assis tance rendered to his slow mode of expression. “And now, you know, Miss Kathleen—may I say my Kathleen ?’’—He laid his hand on hers, as he spoke. She shuddered, but did not withdraw it. “If a man sees a woman, you know, that he— the brightness of her eyes, and the red on her aw—sort of feels will do justice and honor to his cheeks was not the result of her seaside ramble, 'establishment; why—aw—shouldn’t he try to Le Grande had not yet strolled in, and heraunt | gather, to preside over all this, you know?” observed, with a triumjihant flutter at her heart, ' “Asa figure-head,” suggested the girl. that she never looked at Roy Wardleigh, who sat conveniently' near. Sat conversing with Mrs. Vavasour, who had pat last decided to ap pear at the table d'hote once more, and was be sieged on all sides with sympathy and congrat ulation on her recovered health and spirits. “I've been out t!B afternoon,” Mrs. Vavasour was saying as Katfl^en entered the dining-room |and took her usual place; “•I’ve been away over Ito the city, and drove to see my friend, Mrs. Clive. She assures me that Le Grande is dead in love with somebody in this vicinity—hush, Mr. Lyndsay, no names! of course not!—and, according to the signs of the times, it will surely be a match. I am somewhat fatigued,” added the widow with a smile which covered a sigh of weariness. “ It’s such a distance to Mrs. Clives’. She lives on our avenue, you know, Wardleigh— a long way out, No. 593. 593—Why, Kathleen Mavourneen, what’s the matter, child ?” White and still and rigid, Kathleen’s face drooped—she had fainted. CHAPTER XII. in honor’s chains. “ And in marriage,” she said, “ mistakes must some times occur. What course is then pursued ?—What is dene to rectify the error ?” and he answered: “ Nothing 1 In honor bonnd, you know.” There was bustle and confusion in the dining room, and all gathered around the pale face ly ing so pitifully still before them. Roy Ward- ieigh reached her side with one bound. He drew the poor head upon his arm and rested it there. Stand back,” he said in hushed, calm tones, “ and give her air.” His mandate was obeyed; even Aunt Marie was obedient. Mrs. Vavasour alone lingered. She stooped above the pale, still form, and by a dexterous movement—or was it accident?—the chains suspended about the white throat slipped for a moment into view. Only’ a moment, but plain, clear to two pair of eyes—Roy Wardleigh and the fair-faced, sweet-voiced woman bend ing over the form of the unconscious girl. “Ah !” whispered Cora Vavasour, “ some gage d’amour; but a strange one, is it not, Mr. Ward leigh ?” She dropped the chain back into its hiding- place as she spoke. Poor Kathleen ! this had been her only means of concealing her secrets; and yet, out of’all the world, the two who would judge her the hardest had seen it all. Roy Wardleigh bit his lip; something grew cold around his heart; then Aunt Marie approached. Kathleen’s eyes opened once more, and he moved hastily away, with a look of half-contempt upon his face. There was some secret in this girl’s life; how terrible it might be! who could tell? The thought bewildered him. Ah! man, man, in thy vain-glorious self-righteousness, look thyself, and condemn not, unheard, t is icithout sin, let him first cast a f.. Well, that’s a queer way of putting ^suit of him and of Henri, for whose arrest an hips you're right, after all.” “order* hadl also been' given; but they were tot overtaken, 1 'nor was any trace of them discovered. They had had agood ten hours the start of their puysAers, for the Pope, owing to the effect of the narcotic, did not wake until noon. WlHle Alphonse partjok of his supper in the little'valley inn, the curiosity of those around him seemed to; satisfy itself with his re markably unassuming appearance, and by the time he had completed his supper, all observa tion was withdrawn, and he was left unnoticed in the obscure nook of the chimney corner where he had found a seat on entering. The glare from the fire upon those seated in front enabled the corner occupants to see well without being much observed themselves, and Alphonse, unnoticed, proceeded to scrutinize Exacty. it; but per" There was a long pause. Le Grande began to grow impatient and restless under the long, searching gaze of the brown eyes that were gauging him and taking a mental inventory, oj the human being to whose destiny her own was hen<Morth to be linked. A drag, a millstone abouWier neck, which nothing on earth would ever remove; no power—save death—could sever the chains, no matter how they galled her. Yes, Le Grande was getting very impatient, under all this delay, and wished heartily that it was all over. He had no fear of the result; in fact, so confident was he, that he had come pre pared for a favorable verdict: and in the pocket of his immaculate vest, there reposed a diamond cluster, large enough to proclaim to the whole world that the woman who wore it was his law fully purchased merchandise. It was intended as the seal to a business transaction. But he wanted to put the ring on her finger and have it all over with. Besides he had made a bet with some of the young bloods in the city, as to the result of his wooing; had wagered that he would be Kathleen Trevalyn’s accepted hus band before the clock struck ten that night; and he remembered with uneasy spirit the champ agne supper awaiting him at Delmonico's. He wished that she would remove her great, sad, brown eyes from his face and give him her final answer. “Kathleen,” he cried, desperately, bending over her with all the repressed eagerness en gendered by the delayed champagne supper, “ will you give me your answer now ? Will you —aw—be my wife ?" “And the figure-head to your establishment,” she added. “ Aw—yes.” She drew her breath hard and laid her hand in his. that potentate enraged and bewildered by the fact that his prisoner had been released by an order to which his name wa3 signed evidently by his own hand—an order presented by Al phonse. He demanded an explanation, and falling upon his knees, Alphonse told the whole story, beginning with the purse of gold given him by Henri, and narrating the fact of his sis ter’s existence and the tie that through her bound him to the waif she had loved and pro tected. When he oame to tell of the manner in which he had obtained the papal signature, the Pope’s brow darkened into a terrible frown; but i he admitted that he had some recollection of i the matter, but it was mixed up with his dreams i and seemed to him a part of them. He had not understood by any means that he was signing the release of that arch apostate, Baron Yon Schull. However, his signature was before his eyes, and so was the jeweled cross which he had given Henri as a seal of his promise to grant him the favor he should ask, and as his Holiness did not wish to be thought liable to mistakes and lapses from his own strict rules, he made no noise about the matter and gave no explanation of the Baron’s release. Alphonse, however, was ordered to be imprisoned in the dungeon on a scant allowance of bread and water. He was re leased, much emaciated, at the intercession of Mark, who represented the old man as having been duped and abundantly penitent, besides being now in an almost dying condition. Two weeks' good nursing at the hands of a kind woman restored him sufficiently to enable him j to set out at last upon his journey, and now as he sits by the warm fire of the valley hut, he did ample justice to the full trencher of food put before him. It had rejoiced him to learn that the Baron had not yet been found. Troops had been im mediately ordered to scour the country in pur of danger of losing their way. : to unloose his hands and swore vengeance. In “ We desire to travel by the shortest route, : fits struggles, he succeeded in freeing one hand, for we are on urgent State business, and a few ! an d catching his sword from the scabbard he hours delay might frustrate all my plans; and struck desperately at the man nearest him and at the same time we want to keep clear of ban- wounded his arm. Before he could deal a ditti, and especially of the crew of that infam- second blow, the enraged desperado's dagger ous St. Croix.” “Better not speak that name with such an ugly handle in the mountains to-morrow, Senor. The rocks might send back no pleasant answer,” said the guide, dryly. General Opede glanced at him keenly, then said: “I shall not provoke an assult, on account of my present commission; but when I return un encumbered this way, I care not how many out laws I encounter single-handed, if only the first was plunged to the hilt in his heart, and 'the lifeblood sprang after it when withdrawn, dying the snow around him in the crimson hue. Meantime, the guide had leaped over the edge of the rock, and with the fleetness of the deer bounded down the declivity and was lost to view. Alphonse began to meditate on the chances, for him to follow, but the possibility of escape was lost for him before the hope was born —a ruffian held his bridle and the others surroun- thrust of my good steel be at the rascally rob- : ded him. One man, who seemed to be highest her chief himself.” ! in authority, said to him: “Those are bold words, Senor. But if we j “You are safe, old man; yet I must kniw are to start early, I must go and see to it that whether your object in wishing to see our chief my horse is faring well, and we all had better is one of peace. Answer me yes or no.” get to sleep as soon as possible. Mind though, ! “I design him no injury. I wish to see him I am not sure that I shall be well enough for this journey to-morrow.” “A draught from my flask would help you. Conrad, our host, will also probably like a sip.” Conrad soon found the huge leathern flask, which he handed to the General, who in turn handed it to Orand. “Thank you,” said he, with a polite bow, “ but Orand would not presume to taste before you.” “ Good host, we will make you the Honor for the occasion—partake !” said the General. With evident confusion, the host declined to “ That is sufficient for me to know. You can tell him the object of your visit, but .you must dismount and follow me.” He obeyed, and immediately one of the men mounted his horse, another was on Conrad’s, and General Opede, securely tied to his own horse, was placed between them. The robber seemingly in authority gave some directions in a dialect unknown to his prisoners, and -tli*a bade the old man follow him, leaving Opede with his guard. They proceeded in an irregular, precipitous be first to taste the liquor. The General was in j direction for about half an hour, when the}’ his turn embarrassed and angered at the implied j reached the bank of a quiet lake resting in a misgivings of the men, but he smothered his j follow between the mountains. wrath and said, with assumed levity: |^k“Here we wait for the others,” said he. - “ If therejis death in the pot, I will be the first i^fcuphonse made no reply for some time, and t victim, and Conrad, you may have the distinc- ' " tion of being the second;” wherewith he took a deep draught and passed it to his companion. Conrad seemed about to empty the flask, when Orand, well-assured of no false play and seemingly anxious to regain the General’s confi dence, reached for it, saying as he drank: “If there be death in the flask, after your honor expires, Orand shall be happy to be next on the list;” then lighting a lantern from the hearth, he called to the shaggy-headed lad, Davie, to follow, and they left the hut together to look after tne horse. I skgd How^id vou know of mv desire to se • When you expressed the wish last night, i‘t was borne to me on a snow-flake; but if we do not hurry, you will not see him alive. His hours are numbered, and when he dies, we lose onr great chief; yet it is some consolation to know that we have at last secured his mur derer. ” “And may I ask what is to be his fate? ” “ The same moment that St. Croix expires, Opede must die.” the company closely. In the opposite corner feet ignorance of anything suspicious about reclined a man wrapped in a large cloak, who > him, and showed such unmistakable signs of seemed to be asleep; even the noise attendant i drowsiness that the whole party seemed to think on the entrance of the last comer had apparently i it advisable to repair to their respective pallets, not aroused him. Immediately before the fire : Alphonse alone kept watch. The tempest were seated the host and two men dressed in j howled, the fire died out, the piercing cold crept Alphonse had not lost a word nor expression “Is there not some excuse for him, when we of the different speakers, and he was not sur- ! remember that the deed was committed in self- prised that General Opede tried to find out from j defense? ” timidly asked the old man. the host something further concerning the char- : “ None that will avail; and then he boasted of acter of the guide; but that worthy affected per- it—yes, he must die. The sun is getting low; the boat should be in sight.” “How long is our journey before seeing St. Croix? ” military garb, who had preceded Alphonse in seeking refuge from the stormy night. On low seats, crowded into all the intervening spaces around the hearth, were the wife and children of the family, including the urchin who had re turned from putting up the horse. The host and two soldiers monopolized the animated conversation, except when interrupted by the cries of the children. One by one these were finally ordered to bed by father or mother, until all were snoring in the far corner on their pallets of straw. At last, with a yawn, the motner retreated also, and only the host and his two valuable friends seemed awake. There was something in the appearance of the elder soldier which seemed familiar to the old \ porter, and when his companion addressed him 1 as General, Alphonse at once recognized the in at every crevice; but the old man suspected some treachery in Orand, and he could not com pose himself to sleep. Far toward morning the tempest abated, and Alphonse was relieved by the return of the guide, who mended up the fire, shook the snow drifts from his cloches, and wrapping his capacious cloak about him, re sumed his station in the corner, and was soon snoring as if incapable of planning or medi tating any dark deed. Davie did not return “A few hours will find us with him. Yes, there is the boat; let’s to the water’s edge.” Opede was bound and lay in the bottom of the boat, and four stout men were at the oars. Yes, and there was Davie, the identical little ' urchin of the valley hut. As the robber, with Alphonse, entered the boat, Opede seemed to know that a superior of his captors was present, and he began to in quire about his destination. “Silence,” thundered the man; “ if you don’t hold your tongue, I will send you for supper to the fishes. You are no better, nor half so good “I will,” she said, solemnly, “and may i General Opede he had seen at Rome. The Gen- he had some difficulty in finding the sheltered God have mercy on us both !” | oral was in his happiest mood, and told many i nook under the rock where the horses were snug He drew her towards him and slip the ring [ stories of his military exploits in besieging j and safe. To his surprise, as he approached his with Orand, and, after waiting in a state of ex- j even as your companion, and he has already pectancy a long time for the lad, Alphonse, ut- , furnished dinner for the wolves.” terly overcome, fell asleep, nor did he awake i “ If it is my money you want, take all I have until dawn had aroused every occupant of the ! and give me my life. I will even send you more hut. [ besides—yes, every man of you shall have a cap While the rest waited indoors for the morning j fnll of gold pieces.” meal, Alphonse went in search of his horse. j “Your base coin is loathsome; it cannot wipe The whole landscape was covered in snow, and i out blood,” said the robber, sternly. firs^to I "iKc: a her^lj, . upon her finger. j towns, sacking houses and hunting individuals Shackled now; bound—aye, in honor's chains, | into the fastnesses of the mountains, all of which j which sometimes weigh too heavily for human j heroic deeds he recounted as instances of his frame to bear. | zeal for the church. The conversation turned j The little dandy, with all the gallantry of a i on the condition of the roads and mountain j carpet-knight, kissed the fair hand of his betro- i passes, and on this subject the hero was also en- | thed most fervently; then the striking of a dis- tertaining, relating many hair-breadth escapes j tant clock reminded him of train time and Del- ! from the hordes of banditti which infested the ; own animal, he saw Orand, who, bidding him good morning, asked him which way he was traveling. “ Northward.” “You will probably go with us, then, over the mountains ?” “I think not. I am not afraid to travel alone.” “ Still, it would be more pleasant to have com- monico’s, so he hurried himself away. j mountains. i pany.” He had won his wager. “Only two weeks ago,” continued he, “ my i “ Well, I don’t know about that. I think a Kathleen Trevalyn sought her own apartment, ! companion here, Conrad, and I passed these j single old man in less danger than a lively eom- and tossing the diamond ring upon the toilet j mountains going South, and we had an encoun- pany. If I were a rich prize I might prefer corn- table, paced the floor of her chamber till morn- ! ter with these robbers. We had well-nigh been j pany, but there is nothing about me to excite j overcome, but for a happy thrust of my good j the cupidity of robbers,” said Alphonse. | steel at the right instant. I think I must have ! “I think I heard you say last night that you ing dawned. This then was to be the end of all. (TO BE CONTINUED.) j killed my man, for his companions hurried with him, apparently dying, from the scene of con flict.” “I think,” said Conrad, “the wounded man “ Tell me, then, what is my offence,” pleaded the despairing General. “You will know soon enough; and now, if you speak again, I will gag you, and if that won’t do, I will cut out your tongue. You have often seen it done; yes, done it yourself, and thought it mere pastime.” After this threat, silence reigned in the little craft, and the men bent steadily to their oars, winding in and out of the irregular granite shore. In his soul, Alphonse pitied the doomed man, but he dared not speak a word for him. He Knew the fiat had gone forth, and there was no possible chance for a reprieve. After a long time, they entered what seemed what seemed to be an arm of the lake, so narrow that the granite wall seemed to have opened for its accommodation. As they proceeded swiftly, wished to see Julien St. Clair, or St. Croix —he | the heights on either side converged near the goes by either name—and my opinion is, that top until the sky above appeared a narrow strip, for the reasons you assign you will be more 1 failing to dispel* the darkness on the bosom of likely to see him by going in company. If we the water below. At last the boat landed on a light, in the little parlor assigned to Kathleen met Louis Le Grande. She had insisted on coming down that night—de clared that she was better, and seemed so earn est in her desire to settle everything with Le Grande, at once, that her aunt, rejoiced at her pliability, had made no objection. She did not know that every nerve in the girl’s body tingled and vibrated at the touch of Roy Wardleigh; while the hot blood surged in waves over her Authors must be frequently surprised at what critics profess to find in their books, and while I - u —-—> — *“■*** i - „ . — — - they may sometimes smart under their fault- < mnst been some important member of the ; do encounter any of his followers you can tell shelving rock, and one of the robbers struck a finding, they have often to thank them for more 1 band -P robal ?ly c kfef> f rom the interest his com- them what you wish, and perhaps see him; . light. Nothing was visible save the black, ir- reputation than they deserve. Some who claim j rades took 111 him - As tke Y hurried away, I whereas, if you go alone, there would be noth- : regular wall, on which the robber knocked with superior discernment profess to find much of j heard one say to another, ‘Their paltry gold ing in your appearance to attract them, and you his dagger-hilt. The “open sesame” threw the wisdom of the ancients in their mytholog- w °n’t begin to pay us if Julien St. Croix is might roam over these mountains until dooms- wide apart the solid wall and presented to view - -- - -- - - - killed. ’ j day and never find him.” , a flight of stone steps. “St. Croix! involuntarily exclaimed Al- j “Do you apprehend an attack?” Opede’s bonds were partly loosened, and the phonse. “One object of my journey is to see j “Oh no; only I suggest that your best chance whole company ascended a long way, until an- him. I hope he is not killed.” to see St. Croix is to go along with this boasting other door was reached, which yielded to the “You must be one of his gang !” said Opede : General.” same signal. Alphonse found himself in a large ical fables. Could “the blind old bard of Scio’s rocky isle ” rise up and read some of the j criticisms that have been written upon his song ] of Troy, he would be surprised to learn that he j had infused so many fine things in that tale of j heroes. Shakspeare could hardly have sus pected that the plays which he wrote to serve fiercely; “if so, and you find him alive, bear ; “There is some truth in your suggestion. Iam a message to him from me: that the next time very anxious to see Julien.” cavern with irregular walls and roof, in the cen „ t ^ „ „„ v „ „„ „„„„ „„ „„ _ , tre of which were seated a number ot men heart when she remembered that when her eyes the purposes of his day would continue for we meet, I shall see to it that my trusty sword “Tell me one thing, old man; would you around a small fire. The gloomy cave was dimly had unclosed from their lapse into unconscious- j years to yield fresh gems of thought to critical complete the work for him.” harm St. Croix if you were to meet him alone : lighted by several lamps suspended from the ness, his face had bent lowly over hers; his eyes research. Beyond question, it is a mark of ge- ' ." I am not one of his gang. I have not seen and he helpless ? ’ points of rock. Immediately on entering, the first caught the gleam of returning life in her | n i us to utter great truths without being aware bim in twenty years, and did not know that he “No, whatever may have been his deeds, I leader enquired: own. No, Aunt Marie did not know all this; of their greatness. But the critic often "tries to was an outlaw.” amno avenger; I want to give him an opportun- “ How is the chief? ” and if she had, she would have pronounced it : display his acumen by discovering beauties Alphonse sank back in his corner, and was ity to make some reparation; I .want to see him ' “Surely going,” was the reply. all nonsense, and hurried on the affair in hand | whether they be there or not ° soon forgotten, as the flickering fire threw deep in behalf of a friend whom I would serve. But “I must see him. Comrades, here are two faster than before. But Kathleen had made up her mind to one thing: whatever she had to say to Le Grande, she must say it now or never. shadows into the corners; but with his hat drawn I will go to the house and see how these soldiers strangers; ask no questions of me or them. „ .„ , , . over his eyes and arms folded, he quietly ob- would relish my company.” Give this old man refreshment; the other one _ . Henry IV ., at the surrender of Cartres, recieved served everything said or done around him. “It would be unwise for you to tell your we will attend to after awhile.” Saying which Clad in a trailing black dress, relieved at the a deputation at the gates. The spokesman said, As he relapsed into silence after his hasty ex- reason for wishing to go in their company; I the man went up the length of the cave and throat and wrists by a fall of snowy lace, and a “Sire, the city submits to your Majesty as much clamation, his eyes, glancing around the hearth, don't believe this bragging General would stir a disappeared in one of its remote recesses jet ornament in her hair, she looked like some by divine as by Roman law.” He replied, “You rested on the occupant of the opposite corner, foot if he had the least idea of a possibility of Alphonse could not partake of the enticing novitiate who had done with the things of this | may as well add, by cannon law, too.” The man was perfectly still, but Alphonse could j seeing St. Croix—and, mind you, I do not say meats set before him in the presence of the hun-f