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“I aru a detective.” ’ purposes in the world, he walked leisurely into ]
"But who sent you here?” ! the parlor.
“ No one. I aui on the track of a certain as- Lucy was seated in an arm-chair, with her face
sociation of rognes, and the path I have been buried in her hands.
following some time led we to your door. At the sonnd of footsteps, she stinted up with
"But, do you know all the details of our mis- a cry of expectation and exclaimed:
fortunes?” asked George, in surprise. “ Oh ! George— ”
"I can divine them, und nil I ask is that you : She stopped as she saw that it was not her
will let me aid you.” ; brother who had entered, and her pale face be- 1
The detective’s words and manner were so , came suffused with blushes,
frank and sin e, that the young men could not “I hope you will excuse me, Mr. Philip,” she
doubt him, > ieorge said, cordially : stammered. " I thought it was my brother.”
“I shall 1 ppy to accept your offer, sir. l’hilip blushed almost as deeply as did Lucy.
However, I must first tell you something that He stood gazing at the young girl, unable to
has just happened.” _ * utter a word. It seemed to him that never be-
George then proceeded to give the detective fore had she been so radiant with beauty,
an account of I.egget’s visit. j She was indeed a most exquisite type of love- i
The detective smiled as he listened, and was liness. Iler face wus one of those rare eombina- i
evidently satisfied with what he heard. tions of the most enohauting features and pro- I
When George had finished he said : portions, with a perfect complexion. Her hair j
“ Mr. Huntington, I am, as I said before, on ‘ was of a light-brown color, wavy and silken, ,
the track of certain persons, some of whom I ! and arranged with great care and taste. Iler •
have discovered, although I do not wish to have eyes were deeply sympathetic —rather sad, per- 1
them arrested yet. I have been careful not to haps, and, fur that reason, doubly fascinating,
arouse any suspicions, as I hope very soon to Her form was slight, without suggesting the i
make new discoveries. The limu of whom yon least angularity, and her whole person was a ;
have just spoken is one of that band I am after, triumph of grace and delicacy.
Philip would probably have remained for an
indefinite time gazing at the beautiful girl before
him, had she not broken the silence with a few i
words that sounded like the most subtle music
in his ears.
"Mr. Philip, why are you such a stranger ? I
have seen you only twice since your arrival in I
New York.”
" You must remember that I have been here!
but a short tiro- Miss Iluntirg.v,u,” Philip j
succeeded in saying, “and perhaps our slight
I saw him when he left the house, anu the
thought struck me that perhaps he might have
an accomplice here. Are you sure of all the
persons by whom you are surrounded ?”
“I have never seen anything which would
lead me to suspect any of them,” replied < leorge.
"That is not surprising; but we detectives
have an almost infallible method of judging
persons. I trust, sir, you will not think me im
pertinent, nor my questions out of place, but
will yon tell me if a young lady by the name
hardly warrants my frequent
of Sophie Burton is in the habit of coming acquaintance
here?” , visits.
“ Miss Burton is iy sister’s piano teacher. .She i "You are always welcome, replied the young
girl as she motioned him to a seat.
;For T e sunny Soufb.]
l>Vl\Vl\ ISM.
ny Mas. HfELia v. renin.
descended from t«apc area.l mankind,
fr may be false, it aay he true as Jijtlit.
et pays the ape >) compliment, and lie
Should rise, disdain relationship outright.
And break, in ire. ome cocoantus upon
The thievish mortitg «ho claim him as kin.
He leads a pastorallife, nor cheats, defrauds:
« c have no ancestor as dear ol ein.
And yet we hear tht he has. i:i a few
Brief cycles, lost tig sinless, happy heart,
Degenerated to thathcartless thing
Called man—who \\ t h ungrateful art.
Smothers all feelin;f or bj e hapless kin:
Forgets all lineage-bnries it in night,
I localise lorsooth—tie ape is pour. Alack !
If he were rich, we'i own him with delight:
He'd be our “unde.” introduced with pride.
V\ e love gold just tit t much, and we are right:
Hold is respect and umtort, rest and ease:
And lack of it makes life a starless night;
And lack of it is crus*, discomfort, eoid.
Abuse, contempt, snpicion and pale care,
tio bid the ape accut.alute some wealth.
And lie will lie ackmwlcdged everywhere.
bet Darwin reoogni/a him now—we shan't,
h ideous and poor! birely our scientist must
He quite a goose to Mink of such a thing !
Did gold (lust ever mit with common dust
15ut our wise heads aivancing sue!', a claim
And making it a labor quite of love,
Will meet a great reward, and when they die,
IJ< sent to dweli with non keys up above.
For The Sunny South .j
ELISE VOff SCHULL;
-OK-
A WAIF S ADVENTURES.
„ — .. This has :
been rather a sad morning lor us, as you have
probably learned. Have you seen George?”
"Oh, yes : and I believe your father is safe I
and well. He will be here before long.” ...
"Indeed!” she cried eagerly, clasping her f ‘
hands. "Why does not George come and tell me?” 1 ^'
" Yon must excuse him at present, as he is
engaged with a gentleman; but he will be in in
a few moments.”
“Oh! I am so happy. I feared something
terrible had happened, but your words reassure
me."
CHAPTER XXIX.
The Prince continued lis narrative :
‘Before the lady died, however, she gave the
“You need have no fear, Miss Huntington.” ' wrong.
_ Br LOVELADV.
teaches in several fat lilies besides our own.” ~ : - 1 " J ‘ - 1 L
“ Does she come often to give lessons ?”
“ Every two days. 1 am expecting li<-r hero
to-day.”
“I am anxious to see her.”
“I do not understand your purpose. Miss
Burton is a perfect lady, and enjoys a spotless
reputation. What interest can you have iu
her ?”
“That is to be seen,” replied the detective,
quietly. “ Bemember, I say nothing against
her, and have no intention of injuring her
character in your eyes ; yet I should like to see
her.”
“She should be here now; if you wait you
will have the opportunity very soon.”
George had scarcely completed this sentence
when the door-bell rang.
"Perhaps that is she,” suggested the detec
tive.
George stepped into the hall, and, truly
enough, he louud this last supposition correct.
Mi ss Burton had just entered.
The young man beckoned to her politely, and
at his request she came forward and stood iu
full view of the gentlemen.
That she was a beautiful creature none could
deny ; but her beauty was of a stern order, und
had nothing of charm or fascination. Even her
smile but feebly reflected the brightness of i
maidenhood. Tall, dark and pale, her features
were, above all, remarkable for resolution, cun- ;
ning and intelligence. Her eyes were large and j
black, but they gleamed with none of theiustre !
of youth. They were cold and heavy. It would
have been a difticult mutter to tell her age ; she ;
was old and young at the same time. powerful.”
While the detective was regarding her closely, “ It seems to me that their power is fanciful,
and mentally noting her features, George rein- ; Poor, soulless creatures ! they are but the spec-
ted the events of tlie morning, and expressed tres of love. True, they fascinated the ancients,
. plained, but at present if is sufficient (hat 1 aiu su- ricli estates in Tuscany. Noiv about Henri St.
preinelv happy iu kuowing that after all, darling Clair :
K’.ise, you are mine.” Many years ago I sought, his mother s hand in
“If you had not kept yourself so far away, all marriage, when she was a gay belle in Carina.
: this would have been explained long ago, ’ said the It was before my mother’s death, when on one
Baron.
“You cau guess why I shunned iny father's
house.”
••We did guess—but all my messengers failed,
and I was bound hand and foot until this amnesty
released me, and then I determined to seek you
myself.”
“No messenger ever reached me with this intel
ligence.”
“At last 1 found you out, for the fame of my boy
is not hid in a corner, and 1 hastened to the
I’rince, who insisted that the communication might
be made in this manner.”
Victor turned to seek ftie Pvince but he had
left the room. -‘He has very adroitly maneu
vered.”
“We have been preparing ft month for the bridal,
never doubling your constancy,” said his mother.
“Klise—my darling—my dear parents, I can
nerer cease to wonder—”
The Prince entered, and smiliug, said : “Time
is out. What says my friend? Is my debt can
celled, or does he reject the bride?”
“She proved an enciiantress without having
spoken a word. She is indeed as you said, a mod
est maiden, and if she did not look so happy I
might think myself rejected.”
“And you confess that in a measure I am re
leased from my obligation?”
“I did but my duty. You hav-.- been very gen
erous.”
“Well, all is ready—the patient Melancthon
grows impatient. Of all this, more anon. Pome.”
Victor led the blushing maiden into the chapel,
crowded with noble witnesses, up to thealtar.
The Prince and the beloved parents stood by
occasion 1 had aroused her to a sense of justice, by
my unkind treatment toward my brother. In a
I rage 1 left, her, threatening never to return, and a
profligate deceiver, went with some congenial
' spirits to Parma, where my excesses and extrava
gance soon reduced me to penury. My angry hu
mor had not subsided, and 1 would not apply t > my
mother for the funds I wanted, kuowing full well
that tidings from me of any nature would gladden
her heart. 1 determined by ahold stroke to extri
cate myself from all my difficulties bv marriage.
The lady most renowned for wealth was my choice,
i but she coldly nay, scornfully—rejected me as an
uuknown adventurer, and shortly afterward mar-
i t ied Baron Von Scholl. My revenge would proba-
I b!y never have overtaken them but for an unto-
j ward circumstance. 1 soon heard of my mothers
: death, and I returned to claim my inheritance and
expend my vengeance on toy unoffending brother
and his wife, ft was not long before I was forced
to leave the stale, and then, hunted and exiled. I
became the leader of a gypsy band. As 1 have said,
: an accident led to the abduction of the boy Heuri.
I had seui a gypsy, Attocar, by name, to collect
. my income in Tuscany, with an appointment for
meeting me near t'onio. I was punctual at the ren
dezvous,but tlie man failed to meet me. 1 was wan-
■ dering about the country, waiting for him, when
I encountered Baron Von Schull on his own prem
ises, and was treated with arrogance; still I had tio
thought of vengeance, notwithstanding my long-
; smothered anger against him and his wife was
. aroused. The next day was a gala day iu tlie vil
lage, and 1 wandered through the crowd hoping to
find the missing Attocar —when I was arrested as
i a thief by the orders of Baron Von Schull, and
while the impressive, solemn marriage ceremony 1 brought to trial. 1 was innocent and released, but
of the protestent ritual was pronounced which j 1 was outraged, and swore double vengeance. 1
t nobleman a brief, broken outline of I j, oined together for life Victor Von Schull and Elise ; had given my name as Attocar, the better to shield
“ I thank yon, sir, for telling me so. But you
conld understand my fears better if you knew
what a dangerous place New York is. It is a
sea much more terrible than the one you are
accustomed to. l)o you not think so ?” *
“ Partially. ”
“You have not lived here long enough to see
its dark sides. Strangers generally see but the
lights of the city, rarely the shadows.”
“So far, I have seen a little of both.”
“ I trust that you will be able to coniine your-
J self to the lights as much as possible.”
“I hope so. But, Miss Huntington, you
compared New York to the sea.”
1 Yes, sir.”
He understood from it that her ® t, '_.9 r0IX ‘ . .. , . . , , . . .,
husband had been thrust from his inheritance bv ! . The earnest Melancthon invoked a fervent bless-
nn older brother-Julian St. Clair. She also had 1 ln S on ‘ h « lr v bowed he ? Js -? ntl tlie « '™ r , e
been disinherited for preferring him to the same f ur ™mded by a crowd of joyous friends —
Julian. Together they had endured great povert y j heart-felt congraiu ations. .
while he had tried to earn a support by his ari; i An , of ‘he romantic events had oee
he had failed—and was'now beyond want or : mused over the crowd of guests and every hear
sincerely rejoiced with the happy couple.
Prince Maurice had ordered the whole affair in
regal style, and a sumptuous banquet awaited
rhem.
with
been
t
And now,” continued the Prince, “this babe,
descended from a noble family, reared as the noble
man’s own daughter, is as lovely a woman as ever
gladdened the eye of man. Later developments
prove, too, that she inherits large possessions from
her parents.”
“You said her father's brother was named—
“Julian St. Croix.”
“Strange: very strange indeed,” mused Victor.
“The young lady has seen you and loves you;
will you marry her?” asked the Priuee.
“I must have time to decide.”
Only a short time then, for the lady is even now
j CHAPTER XXX.
Alphonse had reached Front Abbey without fur-
: tlier adventure, after his night speut in the rob-
j bers’ cave, lie had at last found a quiet, secluded
nook, where he felt at home, and meant to spend
1 the remainder of his days. He communicated bis
I experience to Father Pierre,unreservedly, and con-
i signed to his care Julian’s written narrative, to be
delivered to Henri as soon as possible. The pil
in the castle and waits your decision.” • , , , .
, • ■ , , , , “I must then beg leave to regret the proposal. ; g n ! na f had ,axed ,be «^ r gtes of theold man, child was none other than Henri St Clair, v
“Are all the submarine monsters to be found I She cannot be much in love with me, ami any one and after a few mon hsof feebleness lie had quietly ; 30 on threatened into forgetfulness of all true
m B- I -• *.j ie ,] ay wi u b(J re joiced ! resigned ins life and lound a resting-place by poor lection of his parents. He was brought up
of the gallant, courtiers of the day
to win so rich a prize.
“All, I believe—even the syrens.”
“Syrens? Are they not somewhat mythical ?” ! ^
“Have you never met any ? ’ ’ ' .,. , , , portunity to send messages to Henri of the iinpor-
J “But yon ioraet your obligation to see the lady . 1 • . . . . . ,, . 1
Aevtr. J & j *> . , . . ' taut communication in his possession—all to no
“The world is lull of them, and they are beI ”, re > ou say a final nay, interposed the Prince, !
* “l would prefer not. It\wquld be decidedly i 1 1 ".
: disagreeable.” | -\,
i “I will not release you. You.dhall see her this
I pray you find her another I Margery’s side.
1 J J Father Pierre bad availed hiinselt ot every op-
isages t
in his posses
At last, despairingof everbearing from
Henri, he had carefully transcribed Julian's nar
rative and sent it by a special messenger to the
very evening, and if, with all
shall Ue in waiting to claim t.
“Very well,” said Victor,
probably as well. L can tell
her uncle Julian. 1 havekno
attractions, you
fize.”
>v;ll see her. 1
ler something about
u the man
: Baron, in Como. It only confirmed the discovery
myself.
j As 1 pursued my way on the banks of the Como,
: I came unexpectedly on Attocar himself: he tried
: to escape me, but 1 prevented him, and soon found
that he had made away in some manner with my
i money. In the ensuing scuffle ! slew him and
found on him not only my stolen treasure but the
j jewelled fan for which 1 had heen arreste 1. We were
, very much alike in appearance, and 1 at once un-
; derstood the mistake. 1 threw Attocar iu the
lake and tossed the fail after him. With iny hands
reeking in blood and my heart consumed by pas
sion, i had not fled far when i came across a little
boy, bright as the morning, trying to sail a toy
boat. He called to me with perfect childish con
fidence to come and help him. Ever from oue ex
treme to the other, the man just from the brutal
slaughter of his brother man, stopped to play with
: the innocent child. ! soon found that the little
i boy was the child of my hated rival. I coolly
threw his toys and cloak as far as I could in the
! lake, lifted the child iu my arms nnd fled. This
whom 1
rue reeol-
in the
gypsy camp until ! was induced by Margery's
dying request to commit him to father Pierre’s,
care. I have nothing more to add, except that 1
entrust my mother’s picture fo 1'euri’s care, hop
ing that the sight of her angel face will once in a
while soften his heart toward the miserable dying
man who did him so much injury.”
Victor folded the paper and put it. in his pocket
that bad already been made—hearing the addition- ; witL-tl'ic zucture. He bade Fa-her Pierre an ntteis-
. ai nation oi t ie iciniioe. uvt.vtt.en ; .ioiii^dft;lreweii, and-without violence lotnisj.rc-
. • Elise and Julian St. Croix. i testani faith, knelt, meekly for the good man's
her usual lesson. ! heart. Oh ! Miss Huntington, women arc more
Miss Burton tittered a few words of regret, i enchanting than syrens, and the man who goes , . . „ ■„ m n.n , L t . ■ , „ ,
glanced rapidly at the occupants of the room, about.the world with a woman's imago in his ; probably as well. L can tell Jrer something about . . ■ ■ j blessing, before taking Ins departure.
and, with a slight bow, retired. heart iiegrs noneof that mysterious music which i her uncle Julian. 1 have known the man.” ■ W1 '. r *? ce .' * e , lu , ex '! Julian's narrative was convincing proof of his
“ Well,” exclaimed George to the detective, is destructive to the soul. The syrensof to-day ; “Remain here in your apas'-tment, I shall my- A*' 1 u ! . lrea . 1D ? 1,1 ^ enes 11 ? a . le c ’ ie identity. The miniature proved to be a counter-
as soon as the young lady had gone, “ are you i are like the syrens of the past, aiid the women ; self come for you’* I- j toward lnvesiigaing ie 3 oung girl s c aims 0 ‘ ie i p art 0 f the one left for Elise bv her mother. It
satisfied ?’’ | of to-day are the women of the past. You i The Prince disappeared. In a few moments, ! robb, ' r ch! . ef s “'bentance. He was more than re- j WM m) honor for Elise to be nl r ie „ I0 , hi8 bilu , Ht
“Perfectly,” replied that functionary. “ I ! ask me if I havix.'Bver seen a syren. Suppose I j Stephen, Victor’s staunch body-servant, entered , l , ,ur hls ‘ 10 ' 1 ' lle ''•> nntnng that sue was ‘“ e chief, only it confirmed her titles to the rich estates
know all that I wished to know, and I’ll now had? Do you not think I could have resisted | the room. He said: aole representative of two of the richest estates in in Tugoany The i !;lronesg dimly remembered the
take my departure. However, from time to her? Yes, because I carried a talisman in mv “I have orders, my lord, from the Prince to bid j Tuscany, and it attorded him no little pleasure to
time I shall want to communicate with you.” heart, which was proof against the world.” j you prepare for the wedding which is to take place j be a1 ! 1 ®’ \ n makln S lbe manage negotiations, to
“ I shall be at your service,” replied George. “ l do not understand,” murmured Lucy. iu the chapel to-nicht. The whole castle is j„ a j the whole party—bride,parentsandgrooin,
The detective remained silent for a lew min- The young girllooked in his face, but-dropped ! st ate of Brand preparation ^ ■ with a careful legal statement of the rich dowery
her eyes and blushed when she saw liim gazing i ..Who is to be married’” J be had discovered for the bride in her own right
ntes, and then rejoined :
“1 have still a good portion of the day before intently at her.
me. From now till midnight I shall have done Philip drew his chair nearer,
a good—perhaps have discovered something. “Would you like to know my talisman?’’ he
Shall you be at liberty this evening, sir?” whispered.
“To-night? No ; I expect my father.” He waited eagerly for a reply.
“Your lather will be here before then. He'll “ Yes,” she answered faintly,
be tired, and go to bed early. If everything , “Lucy,” he murmured.
turns out as 1 think, will you not call upon me , As she made no response, he took one of her
to-night?” 1 little hands in his, pressed it lightly to his lips,
“But sir, I should prefer—” and then releasing it, said,
“ May I tell you a secret?”
Lucy kept her eyes fixed upon the iioor, but
and title.
The marriage festivities lasted several days
‘ I understand. Nevertheless, it may not be
altogether useless lor you to know me better,
Who is to be married ?’
“That is the great mystery; sir. I thought yop
might tell me, sir. Nobody seems to know who is
to be the bride-groom. I believe the lady is the
stranger who arrived to-day.”
“Arrived to-day ? AnT did you hear her
name?”
“No, sir: A gentleman and two ladies—one, . . . . ,,
seemed to be his wife and the other—a beautiful I serv,ce - sa J ln !? “■.*•«» wel | thftt he should en J 0 T
, . ... , , ... it* I the pleasures of his father s house for a long time
young lady—probably bis/daughter. The Prince y ... 6
j name St. <’rois among her suitors, but hud never
dreamed of giving such offense in rejecting his
\ hand.
It was near noon when the bridal party readied
; the foot of the mountain, and all nature seemed
rejoicing to welcome home the wanderer. Middle
My name is Fox, and I lire in Clinton l’lace, her face told wliat she was afraid to say in words, j ing in the withdrawing-room with them two hours
No. 40. Try to come, if possible, and 1 promise ! “Speak, speak,” continued Philip passion- j he issued orders for (freat preparations to be made
had them conducted to theVew suite of apartments
which have just been competed, and after remain- ^ &n Qf husbamlry .
Victor reiterated his thanks, and assured Lis
ately." “Oh f Lucy, if I could only tell you all j for a wedding to-night.--tjThe cooks and all the al'afuwheu'the hour of danger arrived " ^
that I have in my heart, and which I have con- I servants in the castle are as busy as they can be. j J B ' . . _ ihhow ; n
cealed faithfully" so long. I have been unfor- j Nobody can find out who the stringers art.” | . As of
“You may expect me, if nothing unusual j tnnate in the past, may 1 hope that the future ! “What can it mean ? Perhaps the Prince is to ' 1 ,elr route > and ' lc or was rcmlnJed oi hl8 au ‘y>
will bring happiness ?”
tLat yon will not regret the step."
“ Well, I will go. At what hour ?”
“ At midnight”
. „ , 1 ' spring time had clothed the mountain in hvine
the Baron and family remaining in the castle and , f , .. . , ,. , ..
. . .... .. , green, gemmed with mvnads ol wild flowers and
enjoying the hospitality ot the Prince, after which ( | ruit b ;„ ssoms
they departed for their mountain home—the home If n , .
- r . J f 1 . .. 1 i-i it 1 ipl 1 Tbe waters of the clear lake were unruflieu bv
Victor had no seen since hts earty childhood. The j th , breeze which fanned the ringlets from
Prince had voluntarily dismissed Victor from the j £li( £ 8 goftcheek . Tlie caatle whidl SI f rmounte d
I the little mountain was the scene of busy joy.
Victor gazed curiously at the sheet of crystal
and get used to the position he must take in the I viT 01 ujswt
,, , r . . , ..... , , , . water which had so long greeted lus mothers eve
world—become acquainted with his tenantry, aud . , . . ,. 6 .* , f
1 .i, „ . *• 1-^ J only as I119 winding-sheet. His mother who
only as his winding-!
watched him, met his returning glance and with
tearful eyes said:
“My son—the innate beauty of this scene has
all returned to me.”
[toe end.]
happens in the meantime, and if my father ar
rives home iu safety.”
* Then it is understood
Ths young man forgot for the time everything
save the deep love with which his whole being
With these words the detective quitted the j was inspired. It is impossible to say to what
young man, in whom he seemed so suddenly to | extremity he would not have gone, if he had not
have taken a great deal of interest 1 been rndely awakened from his dream by voices
“Well!” thought George, as Fox left him, j in the hall*
That is a singular man, and I haven't perfect j “My brother !”gasped Lucy.
, . 1 ...... - ,, . : prompted by inclination, to pay his respects to
be married himself, and seeks to mystify us all in 1 ? * £ J her who had ’ be / ri ^ nded Lilu ‘ in his
this way,’ mused Victor. Aloud he said “> ! hou b of need) and to inquire after his old friend ;
way
Stephen:
“I suppose we must do the Prince’s bidding, so
help me to array myself in all the regalia of ray
office.”
Scarcely was he arrayed iu full uniform, with
The Tarantula’s Bite.
e 11 1. fi, goepeu Etuoy. j all his military decorations an.l insignia blazing
confidence in him. He may be, tor all I know, j At the same moment George, leading his ahout hi _ wh '„ thfi » nB anno T.nced.
an accomplice of the rogues of whom he speaks. 1 father by the arm, entered the room.
Perhaps I was foolish in consenting to see him j Lucy started up with a cry of joy, and fell
to-night. Well, I shall go armed to the teeth,
and they'll have more trouble with me than
with my father; so, let them beware.”
CHAPTEP. VII.
LOVE GKOWN BOLD.
sobbing upon her father's neck. |
As soon as the first excitement was over, Mr. I
, Huntington turned to his two children and said
in a constrained voice:
"Ask me bo questions, children, in regard to
t what has happened to me, for I cannot answer
; you. Never speak of this deplorable adventure
While George and the detective were corn ers- ! to any one. Henceforth we must be very care-
ing together, Philip hurried to the parlor iu \ ful, as our family is surrounded by pitiless ene-
the hope of seeing Lucy Huntington, his friend's I mies. And now let me go. I am in need of re
sister. j pose, and remember, try to forget what has
She was the sweet creature whose acquaintance j happened.”
the young sailor had made in Italy, aud the im- j “But, lather,” said George, “ we ought to no
age of whose face had been so deeply engraven ■ tify the police, in order to have the villains who
upon his heart. dared to insult you arrested and their crimes
Lucy ! How he loved to pronounce that j brought to light.”
name ! Each day it seemed to grow dearer and \ “ No, no,” replied the banker with n shudder;
dearer to him, as"the bright hopes in which he j “ at least, I must reflect before doing anything,
had let himself indulge seemed to grow fainter I beg you, George, not to do anything in the
and fainter. i matter until I give you permission.”
He was angry at himself for aspiring to some- Philip was surprised at this answer, but he
thing which he felt he could never possess, j very wisely said nothing.
Yet what a feeble thing is will in questions of After a lew more words, Mr. Huntington and
love! He loved Lucy with all the strength of ’ Lucy left the room, and the two young men
his noble young nature. In vain did he repeat | were alone.
to himself that, even supposing she reciprocated “Philip,” 6aid George to his friend, “I urn
■’ ' bound to penetrate this mystery to which my
father has been a victim ”
his affection, he had really nothing but his
heart to offer her. For well he knew that Mr.
Huntington would never consent to sec his
daughter married to a man without an honorable j plied Philip,
name and a worthy position in society. “Shall yon be engaged to-night?”
As he thought of his strange situation in life <4 . £ben be here at ten 0 ‘ clock- »
a feeling ot shame and bitterness came.oxer ; .. wbat do you pro pose to do ?”
him. But he rejected it instantly as - “ I promised the deteetive who came this
bln ?: again lilted his he 1 J, . 1 morning that I would meet him to-night. Iam
After all, he was a man and true manhood is , rtnfe th « he can hel me ... mgUt '
more priceless, more enduring, than ah the earl- J .. Thi(| fiteD mftv dan
doms of Christendom
about him, when the Prince was announced.
“Come, Sir Knight. It augers well to see you
ready. The time has arrived, the guests are all
in the chapel, and the bride waits.”
Viotor drew back somewhat haughtily.
“Prince, this is all njeckery, so far as I am con
cerned; I have told you I would not marry—”
“You have told me you would see the lady, and
if, after seeing her,you refuse to marry her, I will
not urge it.”
“But the lady—would you humiliate her?”
“She is aware of your feelings and trusts entirely
to the influence of her charms to win you. Come—
the bride is a modest maiden.”
“Victor thought it questionable modesty, but he
made no further protest, and they proceeded
through the halls ofaie castle. Victor noted that
everything wore a festive appearance. They
reached the ante-chamber and observed three
figures—two retired as they entered,leaving a soli
tary lady standing in the middle of the room, with
her face turned from them. She was arrayed in a
robe of shimmering white satin, crowned with
jewels, white flowers and a veil of rich lace that
floated around her slender, graceful figure.
Victor stood on the threshholu a minute regard
ing the bright vision with a strangely fluttering
heart.
Dan Sheppard, a workman on the South Pueblo
water-works ditch at the St. Charles, was bitten
Alphonse
The eood Abbott met him cordially, and rejoiced i
m his prosperity In answer to an inquiry alter tara nlula on the evening of Friday, Oct 6.
Alphonse, theold man pointed to two white slabs j d waS8lee ping in a cabin on theGrayback
m t he graveyard near by, where the long-separated j He had * his bed
on the floor, and
brother and sister slept side by side. Victor then 1
spoke of the message he had received two years
before, and Father Pierre brought the original man
had scarcely gone to sleep when he felt something
pinch his left a shoulder and then run across his face
...... - He tried to catch it with his hand, but it escaped
uscript which had been left for him by Alphonse, j him gevere ing b inni t0 ghoot froni ‘ he
aud had been carefully preserved It was an ac j ghould Sheppard became convinced that he hail
count of Alphonse s pilgrimage from Lome and been biUen b F ‘ a (arantu , a . Hc then ran up the
his meeting with Julian of which we already know 1 ^ track J t0 M . T. Robinson's about a mile dis-
-and enclosing Julian s written statement, as fol- j Unt> £ hope of getting some whisky for use as an
low9 : antidote, but unfortunately Robinson had no whis-
“Alphonse insists that in extenuation of the ky on hand. He then returned down the track
wrong I did his sister in imposing on her an in- J and W ent to a house near where he was bitten,
valid marriage, I shall testify on oath to an ac- I gh d ig a 8tout> p ower ful man. but by this
count of Henri St. Clatr s parentage. It is neces- L. ft was nearly exhausted. The pain had
,u.l.uil m ... [ bave , 1.;,
Philip hesitated before entering the parlor.
He almost dreaded an interview with the young
girl he worshipped as the ideal of beauty and
perfection. He had often gazed without trem
bling at the horrible contests of wind and sea ;
but at the idea of meeting an innocent girl,
whose greatest power was a smile, his heart beat
rapidly.
However, Philip summoned np courage, and,
?08 though led onward by the most indifferent
Remember,” whispered the Prince, “she is an
“ I shall be only too glad to assist you,” re- °n )han ‘ and J 0O , ks J t0 , >' ou fo . r P*™ 18 - home and
affection. My lady, let me introduce to you—
she raised her bowed head, turned her full eyes
on Victor and smiled.
He turned der^y pale one instant—but the
word orphan iu connection with the story of her
life he had heard, nil rushed in a great wave of re
alization over his heart and he rushed forward and
clasped the lovely apparition in his arms.
"Is it true? Tell me, darling, is all this true
which I have heard about your life ?”
“All true, my son,” answered the Baron, who
had re-entered unobserved, with his wife.
“And a truth which never would have been di
vulged but to secure the happiness of you both,”
said the happy mother, as in turn Victor looked to
her
“Ah ! My beloved fatherand mother—truly now
you embrace your son, for he is lost to you no
more. There are many, many things to be ex-
Tbis step may be dangerouB.”
“ What of that ?”
“ You know what your father said.”
“Ob, he is still under the influence of some
horrible impression. I have not the same cause
for fear.”
“ Very well, as you plense; yon can always
connt upon me, my dear fellow.”
With these words the two friends separated
until the evening.
(TO BE COXTIXBKll. 1
sary that I shall mention some of the crimes
committed, and in excuse 1 shall first give a brief i
account of the influences which started me in my
downward career. I was left fatherless at an early
age, with a younger brother. 1 was a spoiled child,
and as the heir, the pet of an indulgent mother.
Her indulgence fostered my weakness, and in time
1 grew to be a disobedient son and domineering
brother. I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that
my wild career brought my mother to an untimely
grave. After her death all rein was let loose to
my _mad passions, and I became a daring, bad
man—defrauding mygentle brother Edmund of his
rights, and sending him a beggar from his father’s
home. My injury ceased not here, for I tried to
steal the hand of his intended wife, Elise Barges,
and when they were married clandestinely, I man
aged to so exasperate her lonely old father, that
she was disinherited, and all her fortune given to
me. The old man Barges on his death-bed en
treated that I would find his child and relieve her
from want. I made some feeble efforts to find my
brother, but not until I saw his wife’s picture in
the hands of Baron Von Schull’s daughter on Mt.
Vesuvius, about twenty years after, did I hear
aught of them. I was so surprised at seeing the
picture that I terrified the young girl, especially
as I imagined that I saw the youthful, living Elise
Barges before me. I continued in my reckless
course, having been driven from my native Tusca
ny by the terrors of the law, against which I had
committed many outrages. 1 have gone under
many assumed names—generally St. Clair—but
my right name is St. Croix. If I knew that my
brother left any heirs, I would right them, now
that I am dying and there is no one to claim the
i passed from his shoulder down his left side, then
into his legs and up his right side, until liis whole
body was affected, and he was in a state ot the
n ost excruciating agony. A neighbor immediately
mounted his horse and galloped to Pueblo, eight
miles distant, for a supply of whisky.
In the meantime Sheppard returned to his cabin,
and in a short time, from the action of the poison,
he became almost insensible, and his body, head nnd
limbs became frightfully swollen. In just two
hours and a half from the time he was bitten, the
much needed whisky was received from Pueblo.
The poisoned man was now in a very critical con
dition, unable to move, and even at the very gates
of death. The whisky was immediately adminis
tered, and lie speedily revived. About a quart
was given him, when as Sheppard himself says, he
began to feel himself the strongest man in Colorado,
and it was with difficulty that four men could hold
him. It soon became evident that the whisky
would prove an effectual antidote to the tarantula’s
poison.
Sheppard is now recovering rapidly, and though
he is still weak, and has lost some thirty pounds
in weight, there is little doubt that in a week or so
he will be all right again.
It is a little singular that, although the effects
were so terrible, the bite itself left a mark so small
as to be scarcely perceptible. Although the whole
of the rest of the body was badly swollen, the spot
bitten was scarcely affected.—Denver JVetcv.
Boston is satisfied that an intelligent woman
can safely be elected to any office where the
salary isn’t enoughto buy a looking-glass.
