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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,