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Castle and Cabin;
—OR,—
Lord Edwin’s Vow.
A TALE OF ENGLAND AND TNE GREAT WEST
BX C. H. WEBSTEB.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE WAYSIDE BAN CHE.
‘Los Senor tarries long to-night!’ said the
dark but not ill-iavored Mexican girl, who lift
ed her jar of water from the well, whose cool,
limpid flow afforded many a refreshing draught
to the weary, thirsty traveller, who paused over
night at the small adobe ranche that stood alone
among the mountain passes of western Texas.
‘Los Senor larries from the ranche much of late;
and my poor lady’s handsome eyes are dim with
watching. Ah, ’tis the way ever with men; and
the lonely keepers at home think but of them as
they linger. Catch Maraquita to ever blind her
eyes or break her heart with waiting for the
tardy lover or husband !’ and with a defiant toss
of the little bead, crowned with its jetty braids,
that set her long, gold ear-pendants in motion,
and poising the water-jar npon those braids, the
girl set out for the ranche again.
Entering the common diniDg-room—a large
and poorly-furnished but neatly-kept apart
ment, with wooden benches ranged round its
sides, the stone floor strewn, rush like, with the
clean, coarse meequit grass ot the region, and a
rudely-carved crucifix under a cheap picture of
a giant cottonwood which spread its protecting
arms quite over a gTassy area, the beaten door-
path trodden by the travellers’ feet, and the
low walls of the roomy ranche.
As he walked to and fro, the gleam of his burn
ing cigar lighting the soft dusk of the summer
night like a red glow-worm, and its fragrant
aroma floating on the air, a casement near at
hand was flung back; and a voice, sweet as the
gliding of fairy waters, called out in a tone of j or the wild tornadoes that sometimes sweep
soft, reproachful entreaty: down—Heaven avert ns from the latter !’
•Will you not come in, Roderique, moi Just then, their Indian guide, with a cry,
amigo?’ j sprang past them to the edge of the wood. Bend-
•Ah, Carina "and a shade of annoyance pass- j ing down, he placed his ear close to the ground,
ed over his face. ‘Well, and what do you want ?’| and lay for a moment prone upon the earth,
he asked, coarsely. ‘Can’t you let a man smoke , with his finger on his lips, motioning them to
awoke me, shining directly into my face. And
it is still shining brightly; so what can that noise
be, which now yon surely must distinctly hear?'
‘Yes, I do hear something,’ said Sir Hugh Ra
leigh, ‘and it does sound like the low rumbling
of thunder in the distance. Bnt there are no
clouds, and the sky does not portend a storm;
yet I have heard that upon these prairies one
hardly knows when or where to look for storm
his cigar a moment in peace
‘O Roderique!’
The exclamation was very reproachtul, and
there w as a sound of wounded feeling, even of
tears in it. But the Spaniard's eve only grew
darker, and his brow gathered an ominous
frown. For many minutes he paced to and fro
in a silence broken only by the puffing of his | its horizon line was broken and darkened; and
cigar, as if determining that he would show * in a few moments more, there loomed up, like a
superb indifference to the woman’s entreaties j dark cloud in the early morning dawn the com
or her tears; then he suddenly flung down the
burnt stump and strode to the window with a
lordly step.
•Well, hang it! what do yon want to-night,
Carina ? Always in the sulks or teasing me,
when I c ome home tired to death with my long
rides over the prairies !' he said, with vehemence
of tone.
‘Ah, don’t speak unkindly to me, Roderique !
I have missed you so—you have been gone so
long, you know !' ventured the woman, timidly.
‘LoDg ! Well, what do you expect? I have
my business to attend to; and how can I be here
Waiting for the Dawn.
BY IRENE INGE COLLINS.
CHAPTER XVIII.
The Steamship Confidence was to sail in two
days for Constantinople. She would touch at
various European ports—among them Genoa.
Bertram ascertained this through the next morn
ing's Herald and he went straight to the agents
and secured a comfortable state-room for Eloise
under a fictitious name. He was very fearful
Charles would return before Eloise got ofl and
that the brother and sister would meet. But that
catastrophe was averted. Charles still lingered
and the hour advertised for the Confidence to
leave port arrived, and Eloise deadly pale from
a recent pang of parting, was driven to the wharf
and got out heavily veiled. Bertram met her
and escorted her on board the ship. He said he
was pressed for time and would bid her a hur
ried adieu. He hoped she would find everything
on board as pleasant as possible; he had made
every arangement with the Captain of the vessel.
He put a purs* containing some foreign gold
iuto her hand, and promised to send her a letter
meaning ol the sound borne to them on the pass- . °f credit an soon as she had decided in what
ing bretze—the thunder-like tramp, mingled ; s l ie won ^ pursue her studies. Having said
with the hoatse beilowings of the approaching this, he stood a moment silent before her; then
troop. ... 'added:
Nearer and nearer, came the buffalo-herd, over ‘And now Eloise, put back your veil and say
the broad offiqwy expanse—bellowing and ! g 0 ® 1 * bye
silence; while the two looked on, wondering at
the Indian’s strange manner. But in a moment
more, it was explained, as the red man rose, say
ing in broken English—
‘The buffalo! Ho come dis way—mad—big
crowd. We in much danger —no time to fly !’
Looking away towards the east, they saw that
ing herd, whose outlines took shape to their vis
ion, and the travellers now comprehended the
ploughing up the soil; tossing high into the air,
with loud angry roar, the uprooted grass, and
loose red earth from their sharp horns, and
tram ping down the rank herbage. By hundreds
and thousands they came—driven on by a party
of Pawnee Indians in close pursuit, whose ar-
at vour side? I thought you had got over such
. „ . - , nonsense long ago. But you’re like the rest of rows stuck fast in the sides of some of the huge
the Virgin on the wall, Maraquita set down ner women — ne ver contented. Eavn’t you got everv- i roaring beasts.
a : ~ Lnr./>L in tbr. /irwncn* and I _ . - . * ° « ,*r., ! D . . . .
Our travellers now oegan to tear for their safe-
ty, as they saw the maddened beasts passing on
ward in a straight line toward their place of en
campment.
‘ They will be upon us’—cried Sir Hugh Ral
eigh—‘and tread us into the earth, if we remain
here !We shall be crushed to death !—or, if the
water-jar on a bench in the corner, and turned j ^ing around yon here to make you satisfied v ’
to fling a laughing salutation in her own Mexic ; an( j as kt , g p 0 ke, leaning on his folded arms on
tongue to some swart soldier iroin beyond the w j n< j 0 w-sill, he sent his eye about the inte-
Cordilleras, or exchange a joke in Spanisn with r j or 0l - tke a p a itment. ‘Didn’t these things cost
some dark-eyed muleteer who played at cards i a jj ea p 0 f g 0 i d ? B nd now you sit and mope like
with the loungers on the rude, wooden settees, j R j n a ea g e j Gracias dies! I am sick of it
Then she caught a glimpse from the open win- [ ftlJ CariDa t
dow of an approaching figure on horseback, ; ,’ You speak trne , Koderique—I am like a bird herd pass us by, those treacherous Loups may
winding up the path leading to the ranche and j j ts ca g 6i a nd without a mate. And how can j be pursuing tbem—and we have little love for
hastily left the room, and, crossing a passage- j jj e | p b^jiig unhappy, when I fear that—that— : them—either you or I—my good Ponko—and
way, opened a door into a small apartment as ; ou do j 0 ve me as well as you used, Roder- i may have a fancy for our scalp locks as they pass,
unlike the former as imagination could c °n- ' jq Ue> ‘ said the Spanish girl, in a voice of mourn- ! Let us hide otirselves behind this little clump
Oeixe. i ful confession; and yet even as she spoke, she j of trees. They may not perceive us; and so go
The floor was covered with a soft, cool mat- j j eaned forward toward him, and lifted the hand-
ting, and rich tapestry draped the rough, sun- gpuie> shapely white bands that lay across the
dried brick walls, on which hung a silver cruel- : g jn p f casement, and wistfully questioned
fix; curtains oi gossamer texture hung over the , t ^ e dar k f ac e with its proud, cold features, as if
open easements; low conches were heaped with geek j n g there the contradiction of her statement,
cushions; vases^ot flowers, i jt »as a sad story of woman’s hope shining
She slowly lifted the crape folds and disclosed
her face white and hopeless in its unnatural
cairn. She held out her hand to him and said
wearily:
‘Thanks. Good bye.’
as she stepped upon its shore. ‘Something whis
pers me I shall find hope and inspiration on
these shores sacred to genius and valor.’
CHAPTER XIX.
Sam Farnam and his bride, the lovely and
loveable Susie,had returned to A—where a round
of gaieties, of parties and dinings, had ensued
in their honor. Anna and Carrie had, of course,
to be present at these, though neither enjoyed
them heartily, for Carrie’s thoughts were always
reverting to her estranged lover, and Anna’s to
her absent and distressed one. Sheand Charles
were now betrothed, but she saw plainly how
the mystery hanging over his sister’s fate
constantly haunted his mind and poisoned his
cup of happiness. Both girls were glad when
the honey-moon festivities were at an end and
they could settle down in the quiet of their sweet
home at Oakland.
Sam and Susie were still staying at her parents
and were happy as two newly paired larks. They
were not, however, such early risers. One morn
ing, coming late to the table, they noticed unu
sual gloom on the countenances of those assem
bled at the table, and iearned that news had just
arrived that Sue’s uncle—a highly respected
magistrate in A—had been seized by something
resembling paralysis, and was at the point of
death. Saddled horses and the family carriage
had been ordered instantly,and while these were
getting ready, they hurriedly drank their coffee
and prepared to go. Mr. Carroll had greatly
surprised his daughter and son-in-law by hand
ing them a note written to Sue, saying:
•This came with the message of your uncle’s
| illness. It is written to you and Sam, request-
J ing yon to come without delay,
to put into your hands.’
He has a trust
‘So coldiy !' he said looking at her reproach- | Such was the purport of the three hardly leg
work-box,‘and a small guitar, dainty in iisform
as a laity lnte, were on the little lapis-lszuii
table; whiles Langing lamp, ol ancient Aztec
workmanship, lit the twilight of the soft August
night.
The occupant of this room so singularly lux
urious in its apartments, and so seemingly out
of place in a rude mountain ranche, was a young
Spanish woman, whose exceeding loveliness
was scarcely marred, though it might be veiled,
by the air of a melancholy unrest which pervad
ed her. She wore a loose robe of light rose-col
ored silk, cut in a simple negligee fashion that
through the mists of doubt and fear.
Bnt the Spaniard—cruel and relentless in his
hardness of heart—only flung off her hand,
coolly took a fresh cigar from the pocket of his
vest, lit it by the match he drew across the case
ment sill, and said, ere he placed it between
his handsomely chiselled lips:
•Well, senora, I don’t know as yon have made
a wide mistake in your conclusion; and I would
suggest that, at any time yon desire the door of
your cage stands open to yon. Now, addios,
and a btienos nodes and sweet sleep to you if you
have done playing the part of martyr to man’s
suited the warm climate; ana her mngmncent ; fj ck ] eDeg8 . * for myself, I confess that woman’s
black hair streamed dow n her polished shoul- tears are a rr rfca t bore to your Cavalier Serrente:'
ders, white as ivory, like an ebon veil. One and shrugging his shoulders, aud replacing the
would hardly have? supposed that this beautiful c j„ ar between his teeth, he bowed with mock-
woman was the keeper oi a secluded ranche j courtesy and walked away,
among the hills—she seemed more fitted, m- Then left alone, thus wounded, insulted, and
stead, to pres'de over a palace; bnt this was her gtnn „ t0 gbe quick by the man for whose love
station in life now, if it had not always been j g j le jj a( j gj YPD U n her girlhood home and the af-
such; though iaithlul, strcng-ariyed Maraquita, j f ec gj on 0£ doting parentF, the Spanish girl felt
past in their mad rac9.’
‘No—no ! Oak tree not big enough to hide
white man or old Ponko; and, more, our horses
make noise when ’fraid, and break loose when
are out ot sight. Buffalo see quick when mad,
and then tramp right over little trees like dry
twigs, or p'raps yonder Indian be cruel Loups,
who be real red devils; and old Ponko hate ’em
like moccasin snakes. No hide, white man !—
old Ponko save you from buffalo; and if Indians
be enemy too, he shoot him dead wich poison
ed arrow!’ and the old guide significantly
touched a small bunch of venom-tipped feather
shafts he kept separate from the others, in the
well-filled birchen quiver on his brawny shoul
ders.
The advancing herd came on; but old Ponko’s
quick eye soon detected friends instead of foes
in the pursuing body of Indians, so his poison
ed shafts were destined to remain unused; and
with a grim smile and a grunt of satisfaction,
he coneantrated all his energies upon averting
the danger of an attack from the mighty troop of
frightened and enraged beasts.
‘Hark, now Wnite man learn how Indian
scare buffalo. Me take sbawl—you both take
blanket, and shake hard !—’ and catching up
Lord Edwin s mantle, he broke off the lower
fully. ‘Have you no word to give me in ac
knowledgment of all the trouble I have taken,
the money I have expended for your comfort
and happiness.’
■Happiness!’ she echoed. ‘I have never
known happiaess since I knew you. ‘Yes I am
grateful Eugene for what you have done, though
ible lines the note contained. Susie was great
ly surprised.
‘I have not seen him since my marriage,’ she
said. ‘I did not know that I was a special fa
vorite of his. I always loved him, reserved as
he was.’
He was peculiar from ill-health, I think,'said
it is no recompense for what I have endured at j Mrs. Carroll, ‘once before he had a seizure simi-
your hands—for the false position in which I lar to this. It must have shocked him mentally,
liave been placed, the humiliation, the self re- Though he has conducted his business as ration-
proach But no matter. Thanks for your ally as ever, he has been strange, somehow., in
trouble; your money shall be paid you back with j his notions about people and in nis intercourse
interest.
‘Who will it be done by my fair one ?
scornfully.’
‘By myself sir. You shall see. Through your
with them.’
he asked ! While she spoke they were walking rapidly
I down the lawu to the gate where the carriage
and Sam’s buggy were waiting for them. Soon
instrumentality I have been bereft of everything j they were being rapidly driven to the sick man’s
except my talents. This my sole hope shall yet j residence. Quite a number of people had gath-
bear a blosson of success.’ i ered around tne house and on tlie veranda aux-
•To turn that regal little head ? Well, I shall j ious for the latest tidings of the sick man who
rejoice in your success, and do all I can to as- was reported dying. On entering the room, they
sist you.’ i found him lying on a couch with friends stand-
•To assist me to return do you mean, and \ ing about him, some bathing his face and rub-
make known the secret to my brother and my i bing his hands and feet, others looking on with
friends ?’ ’ j sad and awe-struck countenances, for it was ev-
He frowned. ‘I am not yet ready to have my 1 ident that the stamp of death was on his face,
secret thrown on the world. When I am, you Ke knew his relations and turned his eyes to
shall know,’he answered haughtily. She tarn- j them kindly as they entered, making a move-
ed away and leaned over the railing of the deck, I meat as if to stretch ©ut his hand to tbem. His
looking wistfully shore ward, her eyes losing
their resentful glow and filling with tears. He
watched her awhile and then going up to her
stole his arm around her, and was about to press
look then fixed itself peculiarly upon his young
niece and her husband as they stood together at
the foot of the conch. By signs and a word or
two articulated with difficulty, he succeeded in
his lips to her cheek, when she pushed hijm i making known his wish that all should leave
from her exclaiming indignantly ‘Do you j the room but Sam Farnam and his wife. They
je>%«t4uL -jss.ready ?V-r ! own goad moibih
* * shall De unhappy’
who loved h.er mistress w ith injense devotion,
©Jf. uron
care which
> Los
Mexic girl, bringing the message with the sure- j de Avila; for I know a way, of which you
ty oi one w ho gives pleasant tidings. ‘And | BfcTer <j r( . a m, to humble you into dust and bring
what will my Lady Carina hare cooked for his . y OU p eg y 0ur life at my hands. Yon little
supper? ■ 1 dream that I hold a secret, which, did 1 breathe
Comethmg savary ana nice, Maraquita; a hit lt to tbe myrmidons of the law, would consign to be trampled d’own by the infuriated, advanc-
oi venison, w ith s plump prairie Jow l; and you ■ t0 the prigon C ell, and thence to the gibbet.’ j ing herd.
may bring the best wheaten loaf, and a flask of ; But this mood soon passed; and her better j Nearer and nearer they came—and then the
woman’s nature guided her to a new decision, Indian broke out into a loud, fierce cry, and
though her voice was replete with agony as she ’ moved his banner upon the broken sapling al-
spoke in a husky whispering tone: j most into the face of the leading bull. With a
‘God and *11 good saints aid me now ! Rod- j sudden bound to one side, and a fieice bellow,
dare after all that has happened ?’ All such
caresses are over between ns. This would be
mockery. Yon do not grieve to see me go. You
are glad to put the ocean between us. I may be
lost at sea, you think, or die in that foreign land
among strangers, or betoo hopeless and penniless
to return to be an obstacle in your path. ’
‘Eloise, on my honor !' She smiled scornful-
the’trees, 'fastened 7t" to the 1 ty.’ ‘ on honor, I advise you to go for your
d more than mine. I love vp.i;, and
m your aos«
followed his example; and, as
the heavy tramping army came on—drawing
near them rapidly—making, as it seemed, for
the littha copse—the three stood ont, in the clear,
morning light upon the open prarie, as if ready
that old wine Ircin the grape that grew by the
banks of the Rio Giande. Shall I not come and
help yon a little, my good girl?’
■Nay, my lady,’ replied the girl, spreading
her Isige hut not ill-formed hands, with their
haid palms ontward, as it to ward off' the idea
of offered assistance. ‘Better take the guitar,
Lady Carina, and play a ritorneili; for that is
daintier handling lor jour white fingers. I kiss
yonr hand, senora,’ and with respectful admir
ation she curtsied beiself from the chamber.
But as she went cut into the kitchen, in the
rear of the main buildirg of the ranche, a loo>k
of contradictory love and hate was in her eyes
—love for her swtet mistress, and hate toward
the master whose cruel neglect was eating out
the happiness of Senora Carina’s life.
‘llaj the evil one ioast him, when he gets him!’
she muttered fierce y, turning the savor; game
on the spit beiore the fire; ‘lor he’s pouring tor
tures into her loving btart, and he’s never wer-
. thy of her. Ah me ! let a man— be he gay sol
dier or rbnehtro— come wooing Maraquita’ and
see what tiswer he gets from the gin who will
never break her beait for lover nor husband !’
and with this customary peroration to her soli
loquies, Maraquita deltly lilted the nicely-
browned fowl to the dish, and placed it upon
the supper-table before her master.
The man who proceeded to do justice to the
wellcooked viands had a tall, stalwart figure,
seteff by the doublet of scarlet cloth and the
leather jerkin he wore with a singular grace-
end bib handsome leatures, clearly chiselled’
combined with his coal-black eyes, finely-penl
ciled brows, and raven Lair, proclaimed his
Spanish bleed. His hands were white and del
icately moulded; and his bearing betrayed a
haughty pride, which impressed one with the
idea that he was above his rude calling, which
seemed more fitting the rude people of the re
gion round about than him. And yet it was
the only occupation which premised any emolu
ment in that frontier State—where the arts and
manufactures ot civilized cities had not yet been
introduced; and the rough herdsmen of the
country lor leagues around were familiar with
the force of the active, lithe Spanish cattle-tra
der. who scoured the wide prairies of Texas and
brought in bis herds to sell for yellow golden
gain. And the keen-eyed Maraquita, long an
inmate of the household, knew tflat the leath
ern monej-bags of her master Were daily swell
ing with the prefits of his trips; although she
knew that < qually as well, that these business
exenisions were not the sole cause of his long
protracted absence from his houee, and that side
by side with the avarice that ruled his sordid
heart, were baser passions.
But Roderique de Avila looked very hand
some as he rose fr *u the snpper-table, stretch
ed his stately yet graceful figure, lit his cigar
and placed it between the even, white teeth
that gleamed beneath the silky, black, curling
moustache, then strolled away to the large keep
ing-room. With all his keen activity called in
to exercise by his business talent, Dc Avila pos
sessed a share of the characteristic Spanish in
dolence; and when at hom6, he alwa;s shirked
the care of the ranche and its traveller gnests to
the shoulders of the women of the household.
Well was it that the faithful Mexic serving girl
was quite able to bear them. Now, he strode
through the keeping-room with a lordly step,
bestowing only a patronizing greeting, or a
careless nod, npon the little knot of men play
ing at cards, then strolled out the door, and be
gan pacing up and down the plat of close-Bhav-
I en green award, that lay under the branches of
eriqne said truly—his heart is dead toward me, | the animal rushed past them, followed closely
and I will act upon his ^ruel advice. I will go j by the others. The herd separated, and now,
out from this desolate cage, where the sweet bird ■ in two files, went onward—rushing with fright-
of love sings no more. Anywhere, I care not; ful speed past them on either side the little
whither, so I get beyond his mocking words, yet j copse art greenwood.
fascinating lace. The world is wide, and must | So exactly did the herd follow their leaders,
somewhere hold a little nook for one who will l that nearly all had gone by; when Lord Edwin,
He caught sight of an acquaintance on the j
deck. Drawing his hat over his eyes, he averted !
his face, he did not wish to be recognized, and
cut short his adieu by kissing her hand and say
ing ‘farewell dearest Eloise.’ He turned away,
and left her standing by the railing.
She stood there, while the ship moved off
from the pier amid tne comfused noise of
snouting, the waving of handkerchiefs, the loud
harsh orders of the Captain and mate, and the
last words called out to friends on the shore.
She stood there while the Confidence was slowly
towed out of the harbor, and her native shores
all withdrew, and upon the door being fastened,
he turned his eyes upon Sam and pointing fee
bly to an old writing desk in the corner, made
him press a small, almost invisible, knob that
caused a secret drawer to spring open in which
there was only one large, sealed envelope. Tak
ing it out, Sam saw, to his surprise, it was di
rected to Eloise Ennis. He turned to the sick
man who now raised his hand and feebly artic
ulated- ‘Promise me that you will tell no one
but> Efbise Eaais-%f tkis paper. .Swear it— both.’
His tones and looks were so full of earnest
ness and even entreaty, that they were deeply
impressed. Both rested their hands on the Bi
ble that lay by his bed and promised to reveal
the existence of the secret packet to no one ex
cept her to whom it was addressed.
•Now promise that you will deliver it to her,
if she ever makes her appearance again.’
This too, was promised, and he saul:
‘Keep your word, I charge you; my honor i3
involved.’
A moment after he muttered: ‘Oh! that I had
had nothing to do with it.’ Then he turned his
receded and grew dimmer and dimmer to her i eyes on Sam and said: ‘I am going, call my
yearning, tear-fiiJed eyes. As she thus left be- j friends and let me say good-bye.’
hind her all that linked her to the past, the I They hurriedly called the others who came
pictures of that vanisiied past—one by one came ! and gathered about him and did their best to
passed in panoramic review beiore her, and recall the fleeting life but in vain. His eyes
not need it long. For now I am indeed alone;
all are dead whoever loved me—all, save my
faithful Maraquita, and her young heart shall
not be burdened with my woe. Addios, Rod
thinking the danger over, ceased waving his
wand of safety, and looked on to ODjoy the dan
gerous, but exciting scene,
j she saw herseif once more a child running at
j her brother's side along the banks of beautiful
Hudson river; dipping her little feet in its
clear waters, or fishing in the stream, while
But it was an unfortunate move for him; for, I little back lay their pretty home. Tlie picture
eriqne ! I will not stay to burden you with my I one ot the wounded bulls, frightened and fierce j was darkened, the mist of tears was over it. The
presence; nor will I use unworthy means to stay j with tbe p*iin of the arrows fastened in his flesh, j pretty Hudson river home was swept away by
a waning love. Your life is yours, till God calls | sprang out from the tide of rushing beasts; and, ■ speculation, they were struggling for bread in
it to himself; yet, Roderique, wicked though I i catching the youthful nobleman upon his horns’, j the great cruel city, her brotner, boy as he was,
know you to be, I shall ever love, and pray for j tossed him high into the air. Faint and bruised j working for all, for grief and ill health paralj z-
you to all good saints in heaven.’ j he fell to the earth, and lay senseless as ! ®d her lather’s energies^ They were doomed
; one dead..
CHAPTER X. j A few moments, and all had swept past; yet
A clear, crisp, cool September day broke over oneof the buffalo hunters—the handsome youug 1 woman, whose only regret at dying was that
n V A r.»n • ri o • onr) f lid crin oarn a nn tntfVi n A — 1 1 l_ _-i . aim rvi nut Ictotrh hcii* ohililTPn flrwl iinsluinfl
closed gently and he died without a straggle,
leaving to the care of Sam Farnam and his wife
the mysterious letter that he made them swear
to Dreserve.
the broad prairie : and the sun came up with
promise of midday warmth in the long level,
red beams that fell aslant the wide sweep oi land
unbroken by sign of human foot or habitation.
Just as the long, red rays began to fall more
obliquely when the day god ascended to his
chief of the party, had witnessed this accident,
and lingered and approached the wounded
naan.
‘White brother hurt ?’ he said to thoir Indian
guide, ‘bring him to our village. He have bad
wound f kneeling and examining it as fie spoke.
higher march through the vaulted sky, a voice, , ‘Eagle Plume and gentle sister Wind-flower
broke the stillness which had been so perfect,
save for the chirp of some bird whirling away
on his early flight, or the rnstling of some prai
rie fowl’s wing; andayoungand slender youth of
apparently some eighteen summers, attired in
hunter’s garb, stepped forth from a tiny copse
of dwarf oaks, seme five or six in number, that
broke the surface of the vast reach of land sweep
ing away from the horizon to horizon.
Late the preceding evening, a party of three
travelers had paused within this little oak open
ing if such the miniature oasis in the prairie
desert could be called—and sought its shelte
for the night. Weary with their day’s ride, they
slept heavily; while their hunting horns and
gaily mounted Mexican saddles were cast upon
the ground; and their powerful handsome horses
spirited with the free, untamed life of the prai
ries, stood tethered to the lower branches of the
trees at the edge of the wood.
Pushing aside the folds of his heavy blanket,
the youth stepped forth from under the tree be
neath which he had slept; but he paused a mo
ment to shake the skonlder of a sleeper lying
near him, and to cry ont gaily: * °
•Come, bestir yourself, Hugh ! You are sure
ly akin to the Seven Sleepers of old, if you can
finish out a morning nap with this red sun shin
ing straight into yonr face !’ for the long, level
lances of light were penetrating the oak open
ing with resistless power.
‘Come, w&ke up, Hugh! A glorious day is
before us, judging by the signs in the east!’ and
then he stepped ont into the open prairie.
In a few minuses he returned to shake his still
sleepy companion by the arm, and ask:
‘Do yon hear that rumbling like the sonnd of
distant thnnder ? Bat how can a shower be ris
ing with this fair, smiling sky ?’
*J hfcdr,nothing,’ replied Sir Hugh Raleigh,
in a drowsy tone, as he rose slowly from his
blanket, rubbing his eyes to get fully awake.
'You have becomes tardy traveler, Edwin, to be
astir thus early; for the sun has but just begun
his day’s journey, and I am too fetigued with
yesterday’s ride to feel alive yet’
'I confess I was fatigued, too,’said Lord Ed
win, 'but the sun ooming through the trees,
nurse him—make him well again.’
The old guide, with wiiom our travellers had
undertaken this journey over the prairies, at
first drew back haughtily at this interference of
his red brother; and replied in the Indian
tongue, that they should not accept his proffer
of service. Bnt the English baronet, Sir Hugh,
she must leave her children and her husband
to feel the loss of the help and the comfort she
gave them so cheerfully. When she was asleep
under the grass, her husband soon folowed her.
Both were laid to rest in the cemetery at Brook-
lynn, where now Charles had erected a plain
shaft of white marble within a neat railing and
surrounded by graceful evergreens. After that,
they were desolate indeed, but Charles gained
the confidence of his employer and worked
steadily upward, always keeping his sister
from knowing any want, either physical or
mental. Her education had been carefully at
tended to, and the care and sympathy of a
seeing how the matter stood, took it into hi s 1 mother almostsnpplied by the constant kindness
own hatjids to adjust
•Many thanks. We will go with you to your
village,’ he said. ‘Good Ponko, my friend is
dangerously vended, I fear; let us hasten to
accept tbe proffered hospitality.’
‘Ugh ! toe help carry him—but then me turn
bock to onr village again; for it takes long time
to heal buffalo wound,’ said the old guide; and
tenderly lifting the wounded youth, he bore
him to his horse, which was still tethered close
by, hardly recovered from the fright cansed by
the buffalo herd; aud with the help of Sir Hugh,
he wa* soon comfortably laid on his blankets,
and they set out slowly for the distant Pawnee
village, following tlie lead of their new-found
friend-
(TO BB CONTINUED. 1
There fa no other way by which friendship
may be as completely crushed out of existence
as by coldness of manner; hard words are no
competitors at all, for they are so often satisfac
torily SKplained. It is frequently said that
‘like bagete like,’ aud we believe tn&t is often
so. If we meet with acquaintances who
grasps ear hand cordially, and gives it a gener
ous and hearty shake, and their countenance
lights ap with cheerful smiles as they otter a
pleasant and welcome salutation, if we are feel,
ing dull and moody, we are, or at least should
at once be, ashamed of that feeling, and instant
ly pot forth onr energies to disguise and banish
it. If, on the contrary, we meet with one who
repels our every attempt to be cordial by a stud
ied coolness of manner, w# very soon become
impervious to any genial feeling for him, and a
larger stock of pride Bprings to our aid than we
ever dreamed our heart possessed, and a gulf
istken and there formed, over which a passable
bridge can never be erected.
CHAPTER XX.
Eloise landed alone, ‘a stranger in a strange
land.’ She carried with her many letters of in
troduction, and after resting, and changing her
suit she went directly to the American Officials
, . and delivering the many letters that Eugene
to deeper mislortune. The next picture was of ' Bertram had obtained for her, was received
her dying mother—a noble, loving, brave heart- kindly and shown much consideration. She
very soon found a boarding place, with a quiet,
refined family. The situation of her home
place was lovely and picturesque.
It was near the sea coast, only a short distance
from the beautiful city. She liked the family,
composed of mother and two young daughters,
and concluded here in quiet to rest for a few
weeks before beginning in earnest her work,
thinking the air would in that length of time
restore her to perfect health, She mast have
health or her voice would be impaired, then all
hope must be abandoned. She leaned from the
window; a fair prospect lay before her.
On one sid6 a growth of dark leaved orange
trees breathing fragrance from the pure white
bloosms. and trailing carelessly around and
over them was a climbing rose vine covered
with crimson blosoms, some of the sprays
sweeping the ground and trailing upon the
grass so green and fresh. Broad leaved banana
trees and rose-blosomed accacias were here
while the national tree the dark olive, grew all
the way down the declivity that fell in slopes
and terraces to the shores of the beautiful bay.
The villa was of grey stone, darkened and mossed
by time, surrounded by a lovely, terraced lawn.
Shrubbery aud shell work and an abundance of
lovely flowers caught the eye and held it deligh-
ed, while the bright waters of the loveliest bay
in the world—the bay of Naples—dimpled and
flashed in the sun and reflected the colored
clouds and the various water-craft that floated
or sailed over its bosom.
Ths bay of Naples was lighted with the rich
glow of sunset; a beautiful crown ofesiored light
rested upon the mountains, and the acacia trees
wet with a recent shower, shone Hke emerald.
Far up the mountain side,was an old convent,
its hoary walls and turrets, ivy covered and
crumbling, the rough edges, hewn off by the
ravages of time, the rear part, modernized with
its arched windows of stained glass. Eloise,
with her hands clasped tightly together and her
chin resting upon them, gazed on it in a wild
longing for its peace and shelter.
‘Oh! that those dark wall might shut me in
from the world forever. Bat for the duty I have
to perform, the duty to my brother and one oth
er, but for the name I mast clear of stain, the
life that I mast cherish and direct, I would'give
up my purpose, cease this straggle, and find
restand nepenthe in yonder cloister.’
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Bay windows are safe harbors at nisht for
little Bmacks.
of the tender souled man—her brother. The
brother she was leaving forever, who had so
mourned over her mysterious fate—Oh ! what a
train of unhappiness had proceeded from one
rash act! If she could only recall the events of
the past two years !
Her head dropped on the railing by which
she sat; the wind blew her partially loosened
hair into careless rings as the waves of bitter
regret went over her and the tears coursed down
her cheeks.
At last a fine looking white haired old gentle
man approached her, and laying his hand on
her head said :
•Do not abandon yourself to grief my daugh
ter. Have hopo and courage; see tne stars Hhining
through these temporary clouds of sorrow. Ask
comfort of God. Go in now and get a warmer
wrap. The air blows chill and you will take
cold.’
The days went by and grew into weeks while
the steamship plowed the ocean. Eloise was
but little sea-sick, and she whiled away the te
dious hours on ship board with light work and
reading. Sometimes she exercised her voice to
the delight of the passengers and crew, who
would gather around her to listen and often
burst into involuntary‘bravos.’ She became a
great favorite with ail on board except a few la
dies of shoddy aristocracy, who had the bad taste
to sport jewelry—bracelets and necklaces—and
wear carriage and parlor dresses on board*
It seemed aweary time since Eloise had watch
ed the fading of her native shores, when at last
the land of her destination was announced to be
in sight, She stood on deck and watched the
lovely shores of Naples dawn tbrongh mist,
hailed the coming of the pilot in his picturesque
dress and swift little boat.
‘Welcome Italy!’ Bhe said, to her own heart,