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Castle and Cabin;
OR,—
Lord Edwin’s Vow.
A TALE OF ENGLAND AND THE GREAT WEST
by c. h. websteb.
the heart—and I shall have to begin to register
down your experiences of le grande passion,’ said
his companion, jokingly.
‘Oh, no need of that in the least, Hugh,' was
the reply. ‘Or, if you do, don’t forget to place
her who dwells a hundred miles to the north
ward premier upon the list; but the regard I
cherish for this lovely girl, who I presume, is
this intelligent and manly Tarbell’s promised^
wife, is among the most welcome guests to a
heart that never knew a sister’s love; and 1 shall
long remember her with pleasure. And you
must have seen her worth, too, Hugh ? ’
‘I do agree with you, in thinking Miss Brandt
far superior to any woman I have yet met in
this country of the great West. In person, she is
very beautiful, and possesses a rare dignity that
would not be out of place in our best circles at
home ;wbile she seems well informed and lady
like, and has been most kind and attentive to us
ever since we have been in the settlement. Are
you satisfied with my judgment, Edwin?’.
‘Perfectly, most worthy cousin; and I will de
clare that you have exceeded me; and I will
write straightway to Lady Amelia, and bid her
call her truant lover home, lest he prove recreant
to his vows,’ replied the youth, laughingly; and
with such merry badinage they sought their
lodgings.
After the two Englishmen left Jacob Brandt’s
cabin, Yance Tarbell did not linger loDg;
and when he had departed, the old settler stood
for a few moments in thought by the kitchen
fire, then turned to his niece.
‘Lucy, why does Tarbell come here so often ? ’
he asked. ‘No equivocation, but tell me the
truth, girl! ’
Eor a moment Lucy dropped her blue eyes to
the floor; then, lifting them, she firmly replied:
‘Because ha loves me, and we are promised to
each other, Uncle Jacob.’
‘Promised? and without sayin’ a word to me,
when you knew I had set my mind on David
and you settin’ up your home together! And
even if that hadn’t been agreed upon, do you
s’pose I’d let you have a man who had to flee his
country under s’picion o’ bein’ a murderer, Lucy ?
I’d see you in your coffin fust! ’ said the old
man sternly.
‘Uncle Jacob, I suppose I owe you the duty a
child does her parrents, for I never knew any
other father than you, or any home but this;
but I cannot hear such things spoken of my
promised husband! ’ and the girl’s vftice had a
touch of womanly dignity in it. ‘David does
not love me as he ought to love his wife, and I
am glad of it, and that he does love another; but
you ought never to be the man to hurl that
charge back to Yance—for, when he saved our
lives in that terrible night on the prairie, I heard
you say ‘Vance Tarbell, I believe you’re an in
nocent man!' How, then, can your opinion
have so changed since then ? At any rate, I be
lieve him innocent—David does, too; and I will
never marry any man but him.’
Terhaps it was respect for this brave spirit,
and the strong will so like his own. that hin
dered old Jacob Brandt from pursuing the con
troversy any further with his niece. He only
said:
‘Well, Lucy, when Yance is proved innocent,
then come to me, and I’ll agree to the marriage
—tho’ of course, if you’re bound to have him, I
can’t hinder you’re runnin’ off with him any
day !’ then he turned and left her.
•She’s jest like her mother before her—bound
to have the man she’s set her mind on !’ said
old Jacob Brandt to his wife that night in their
own chamber.
‘Why I am sure there’s a good deal of differ
ence in the two cases, Jacob,’ replied good Mrs.
Brandt, in her motherly tone. ‘Poor Annie fell
in love with a foreigner we didn’t know any
thing about; but we're acquainted with'Vance
so many years, and I never could bring niiself
to believe he robbed and murdered that man for
his monev. thmmln.thg ^^tB’new° passion"
, 1 T, , ald m y sa J. and I'll Stick to it? Lucv
shan t have my consent, unless Yance is proved
innocent; aDd if David—the good-for-nothine
rascal!—has gone sparkin’ Tarebell’sjsister I’ll
, .. or ureammg Sha^ooUn^ ^° k Th e old e vil one him
about noblemen who never could be anything Eniil,® *? to th T e y. oun g f °lke. Them young
nd told him ' tbem a . 8h °t, when I
CHAPTER XIV.
VANCE AND U'CY.
•Well, Lnoy, we shall miss our visitors a good
deal after they are gone !’ said Vance Tarbell,
sitting beside his betrothed one bright winter’s
evening in Jacob Brandt’s cottage.
It was a pleasant picture-the large living-
room, warm and cheery with the glowiDg fire of
oak-wood; the bright flames leaping and danc
ing up the chimney-place, and casting gro
tesque, flickering shadows over the walls and
the neat furniture, the whitely-sconred floor,
and the lovely girl, with braided brown hair,
deep blue eyes, and the fresh hue of health in
her rounded cheek, sitting there in her low seat
near the hearth, her hands busy with some light,
womanly occupation, but her eyes for the most
part bent upon her handsome manly lover.
Jacob Brandt and his good wife had gone out
to the cabin of a neighbor; and David was prob
ably in the vicinity of the brown-eyed Johanna,
for he was now a frequent visitor at her home.
True, no open engagement had been proclaimed,
for the time had not yet come when the old set
tler’s plans could be openly thwarted; but events
were working to their fulfilment, and the lovers
had decided to bide the time when they might
safely confess their feelings. Day by day, Ja
cob Brandt was forced to see that Tarbell was
the leading man of the settlement; and his prej
udices against him were fast melting away; yet
he had never intimated this fact to Lucy, lest it
should bring too much happiness to her heart;
for though he observed the renewal of Tarbell's
former attachment to his niece, he had not yet
resigned his plan for her marriage with his own
son.
As the lovers sat that evening together by the
fire, they had been talking, as lovers will, of
their own future; and then the conversation had
turned upon the two Englishmen, who, for two
months, had been tarrying at the settlement,
and during this period had mingled in all the
merry-makings of their domestic life, no less
than the hunting expeditions in which the
younger men indulged in the cold winter sea
son through the deep woods and out on the
broad prairies that stretched away towards the
boundless West. And. with a view of their ap
proaching departure, Yance had said:
‘We shall miss them a good deal when they
have gone, Lucy?’
‘Yes, indeed—that we shall!’ was her reply.
‘They have been so friendly and kind, that they
seem like our own people—the young Lord Ed
win, especially, whom I love like a brother. It
is strange—how I have been attracted towards
him, Vance. Sir Hugh is more distant and re
served—with the natural pride of his rank, I
suppose; but there is such a winning charm
about his young cousin, that I, for one, love
him, and cannot help the feeling. You are not
very j ealous at my con fession, Yance ?’ she asked,
archly.
‘Not a bit, Lucy,’ laughed Tarbell. ‘Your
open friendship with this young English lord
will never cause trouble between us, especially
when I like him as much as you do. I have a
strange feeling, too, Lucy, when I am talking
with: it may be a whim, bu*ofian^i hav«vie®
feeling that I am talking ‘“^blance of looks
ten been struck by ^j'Ssion that we nave
nave known Lord Edwin al
ways. I spoke of it to aunt aad uncle once, but
they laughed at me; and Uncle Jacob, in his
blunt way bade me busy myself more with my
work, and I should have less time for dreaming
fthoilr nnhlnmnn nrVin . 1 -i 1 .. . ”
to me. But I only laugned back, and
that I was too well contented there to ever de
sire to leave my home, lest he should mistake
my kind regard for our visitors for a warmer ad
miration. I do love young Lord Edwin—like
a sister, though; for he has no sister, he tells
me, poor fellow .' nor living relative, except his
cousin. But hark ! there is a knock at the door
A ance. Perhaps they are come to bid me good
ly 6 ’ and, lighting the candle on the table, Lucy
opened the door in answer to the summons *
Her visitors proved to be the pair of whom
they were conversing; and after a short period
of conversation had elapsed, the group in the
pleasant cabin kitchen were joined by the old
settler and liis wife, who entered.
‘And so ye are to leave our parts to-morrow,
asked Jacob BraDdt, after the greeting was
‘Yes, sir; and we came round to-night to hid
h Dd Jcm . IS good-bye,’ answered Sir Hugh
We have enjoyed our stay in your village and
thank J0U all for your Z csp ? tam ;ZTki Dd d
„ ‘? h ’ ? 8 to ‘b a ‘> you're welcome, sirs—welcome
as the day to all I’ve done for ye; and that ain’t
much, for it’s Tarbell here who’s made ye[ Ume
pass easy for ye. I hope ye’ll have a pleasant I
sirs
over.
told about turnin' villains away from home! I
judged of em by him-the smooth faced young
foreigner you d never dream would turn out
such a scamp; and this youngest one is the
good e !’° f blm-andI h °P e my hint’ll do ’em
wor 1 W "hi!’i^^° b ’ W6 W0D,t believe a11 the
world is bad because some of them are ’
miidly rephed the good wife. ‘It isn’t the spirit
we ought to snow, in my way of thinking.’
fulPnf ,i hlDk ' M °j he * Braudt •' The world is
* ul -°f.. ro 8 lles and villains; goin’ about like
roann lions, some of ’em, and some of ’em jest
). b f ? p pcsite-like turtle doves, purtending to be
mighty gentle and innocent. And bimeby you’re
.’", y took iu . I to,l jou, my creed is tbis —
s*— 6 lE'tursr'’ 8 »—
Maraquita sprang up, while the great dog lea P ed
to his feet and uttered a long, fearful howl, tnat
almost curdled the listener’s blood to “ eftI ‘
‘Santa Maria! something has happened to tne
master!’ said the girl, her teeth chattering with
terror; aad her hands trembled so that it seemed
an age before she could unbar the door.
And when Bhe did so, a fearful sight met her
vision, a great black mustang, with frighted,
distended eyeballs, and with terror in every
limb, standing with his fore foet almost on the
threshold—aad Roderique de Avila hanging
helpless from the saddle!
That sight nerved Maraquita to more than
woman’s strength; and she speedily brought a
knife and cut the stirrup strap in which her
master’s foot was entangled, and dragged him
over the threshhold into the kn ping room,
where she laid his head upon a cushion; while
the horse, relieved of his hanging burden, and
pacified by a few soothing words from Mara
quita. left the door and sought his shed in the
rear of the ranche. _ . .
Poor Maraquita was now in a trying position.
Her master lay bruised and senseless, before
her; there was not a man servant near, they
having left the ranche that morning for a visit
to the nearest town, and been kept by the fierce
ness of the storm; and at first she could do
naught but indulge in broken ejaculations.
1 Sacra Marie!’ what is a poor girl to tlo in a
strait like this? The senor dying, and not a
soul here! Ah, why did I let Pablo and Miguel
go away? 1 might have known some terrible
thing would happen. Oh! if the Senora were
only here! But I am alone—and I have ever
been alone since my poor lady left. The Vir
gin help me, for I know not w-hat to do!’ and
she wrung her hands as she knelt on the stone
floor beside the prostrate man lying uncon
scious there, his riding cloak soiled and dab
bled with mud and rain, and his pale face
looking ghastly in the lamplight, save where a
wound in his white temple oozed forth blood.
But the girl soon roused from l.er fright, and
realized that she must adopt some measures for
her master’s recovery if life was not already ex
tinct. She rose from her knees, and brought a
wooden ewer of water and a napkin, with which
she moistened his lips, and wiped away the
blood from his face, and clotted masses that con
gealed among his silky black hair. Handsome
as a chiselled statue’s looked that face, upturned
there on the rude stone floor—the perfect arch
of the eyebrows and the curve of the delicate
moustache alone redeemed it from marble puri
ty: but even then, when life and intelligence
seemed stricken out of it, it retained its cold,
cruel look, and the olden expression of harden-
■ ed pride lurked about the firm, set, pallid lips,
‘Santa Maria ! what would my poor lady say, if
she could look upon him now ? He cost her
many a heart-pang; but his lips will never
wound her more, unless he opens them soon !’
said Maraquita to herself, as she bent over him,
vigorously chafing his wrists and throat the
while.
‘The saints aid me ! He will never open his
eyes ! But hark ! what was that? A knocking
at the gate 1 Pablo and Miguel have come back!’
and she sprang up to admit whoever clamored
for entrance.
But neither of the servants whom the girl ex
pected stood before her; instead two travellers
—their cloaks dripping, and their horses splash
ed with mud to their smoking haunches—asked
admittance.
‘My good young woman, we saw your light
from'the windows and were guided hither, or
W’e should have perished in the mountains; let
us enter, and we will pay you well for the
night’s lodging,’ said the elder and taller of the
two. . \
‘Oh, +godd leuof, the A’irgin must ha :e sent
you hither in my extremity !’ said Maruq^»ia in
glad tones, clasping her hands in joy at their
borne
or priest to shrive bis soul. Leave your horses
at ‘be g a ‘ e > gpod senors and come in.’
‘Wo are neither priests nor physicians, but we
will do all that man can do to help you in your
need my poor girl,’said the gentleman, sprina-
nn* 1 ? bls saddleand slipping his bridle over°a
post a t the door ‘Come, Edwin ! After being
lost and bunded in this fearful tempest, and
vandering about so long, it does seem as if
Piovidence had guided us to this place, where
0f A 0m L° rt t0 tbls poor wou nded man !’
the ranche. 7 W traveller he entered
tni h«? U1 'f 1 M er ’ a ‘ te i; bearing the wounded man
o a bed, stabling their jaded horses, and taking
such repast as they could obtain from Mara?
quita s stores, Sir Hugh Iialeigh and Lord Ed
win Stanhope sat in the little chamber beside
Roderique De A villa; determined not to leave
the poor Mexic girl alone, but to assist her
her nights vigil beside the still
man.
in
unconscious
TO BE CONTINUED.
trv—and th !f E l ° f J he tlme Y ou re in this conn
‘Pni n g h ° me t0 your own People safe.’
isn> 1 h / 0Ur P arti Dgs, Mr. Brandt; for it
4‘. i ES
‘Then I reckon you mean to travel infn ,
old d “ J ' ,on ° e * i,? ' ‘■““ion lh«
rffi’&ss&griarzz
had been referred tf by LoS ldwin® A™, 8 ’
'«» <0 LS’f?
Brandt, bluntly. 74 ,KSj“ J7„ b
ceivers—I’ve heern tell o’ such in my life?
■4 ! as d jyai> sr «*
Rrin £ 81D 8 nlar magnetism that sent Lucv
Brandt s heart yearning to the young English 7
man as he took her hand to utter hls adlenl*
such a feeling of regret as a sister might expert
enc at parting with a long-lost, nfwly-found'
hel U D the ten and - nebher conld tbe you*
help the long lingering hand pressure he be?
stowed ere he left her and went from the cabin.
•I wish to heaven, cousin Hugh, I had a sister
hkeEweet Lucy Braniit! ’ he said impulsively
him honest.
‘Suppose I’d acted upon thisThirty years ago
when you asked me to marry you, Jacob? quiet-
in her 6 *? 6 8 °° d W ' fe ’ “ daSb ° f Sly bumor
‘Oh, pshaw ! pashaw ! You’re getting off the
trail . was the reply, in a sharp stammering
voice- ‘There, there ! a woman never knows
don’Ualk a ’ S ° n ‘ Don,t talk ’ mother Brandt-
CHAPTER XY.
A NIGHT OF STOBJI.
th^n™wi, SObbillg 8torm wind went moaning
through the passes of the hills; and ‘the home 8
Sements k ?f impl ?“ Dg ‘ y at the do ® rs and
f b Way8lde ra uohe in western
an I a7m S v a S ar / U,Ilight ; Tbe 8 ale ™ a hed like
an army of demons from the ravines of the
KM*-* —r
Waiting for the Dawn.
HY IRENE INGE COLLIER.
Chapter xxiy.
AfrMYinrprsr;;!-
At last, Carrie said:
‘Fred, I mast tell mother and Anna that you
are here.’ .
•Not for a while, please, Carrie.
•Oh, Fred, they will never pardon me.’
‘Please allow me after six years absenoe to
look at you alone, Carrie. From sixteen to
twenty-two, quite dignified and I believe hand
somer, Carrie. ’
‘We girls al ways improve when we try. But
I can return the compliment, for the air of Cal
ifornia has improved you. Sun-brown only
makes you more manly looking.’
‘It was not California air, Carrie, but constant
exposure during the war that bronzed me.’
At the mention of the war, she shuddered
slightly.
‘Ah, that awful time ! what a miracle you were
spared, Fred. I thank Heaven that you too, did
not perish like my dear—dear—’
Her voice faltered. His eyes glanced at her
black dress, and he said gently, as he pressed
her hand.
‘Forgive me, darling, for bringing up that
time and making your heart bleed afresh.’
‘Fred, if nothing else would reawaken tender
feelings for you, your kindness to him would
place you where you once stood. It has made
you very dear to mother and father. Mother
loves you now almost as well as she does brother
Sam. She has been my stay and support all
these long years. A week after you left us, she
it was, who aroused me from my lethargy, tell
ing me to ‘Act so that each to-morrow found me
better than to-day.” I have tried to come up to
her counsel.’
‘I always knew I had a friend in your mother.
Tell her if von wish, Carrie, that I am here.’
‘I will call’ starting towards the door.
‘In a moment Carrie.’
‘You must believe I am like—’
‘Like snow-flakes on the river
A moment seen, then gone forever.’
from your desire to detain me near you. When
did you reach town Fred ? ’
‘A short time before I came out. Candidly I
did not remain at home only long enough to see
mother, kiss her a time or two, then I came out
to see you Carrie’’
‘Now Fred, you have shown me such a prefer-
ance may I ask yon a question that yon will
answer ? ’
‘Certainly Carrie.’
‘Why did you not stop to see me when you
came from California before going into the
army ? '
‘Carrie I did not spend two hours at home; but
do not imagine you were forgotten for, Enoch
Arden-like, I stole to the window when night
concealed me in her sable robe and peered in,
saw my own loved Carrie contented and quiet.
My heart was touched. Carrie had you given me
one sign of forgiveness, I would have come to
you long ago.’
‘It was my miserable pride that was to blame,
Fred.’
‘I have been a wanderer. I left home and
friends, only to tear from my heart the remem
brance of that sweet face and I failed miserably.
I went to the great West, listened to the thnnder
of the great Pacific, saw the golden Bay and the
grand Yosemite Falls; then I went to New Or
leans and there oh, my darling, I mast tell you
all, for awhile I tried to forget you, to forget my
self in mad and sinful pleasures, but that pure
lace rose ever rebukingly before me. You were
my better angel, you have wooed me back.
Carrie, you shall always be my guiding star.
AVith this small white hand laid upon my helm,
I will not fear the storms of life. I have spoken
of that time, because I wish to lay my heart bare
to you who shall henceforth share my li'e. I
will tell you now. While in the army, I was on
the verge of becoming a drunkard, and your
dear brother held me back. Ah ! how he talked
to me, how he watched over me! No brother
was ever kinder, truer. One night, I remember
unkmdly to him. I wandered staggerins^ami
fell and lay on the cold, frozen ground I wo„
have frozen to death before morning Sid had
t°Jn\°7 n ed h me ’ h6 f0UDd me and ^rried me * hg
tent in his own arms. When r e ° 1118
drunken sleep it was daylight I ni T° k / r0la my
without stirring; Sid SBL;'2T/nS?
°J-ths k D Tf n J'“ K“i‘V P'“>' ‘bit I might
urn around his neck and joined m“' PWra
with his. I have never forgotten tint V, y
thongh afterwards I tried ilTolnt
.HI A nanlr 1 _ “
View sold ? Surely not! Let us enquire. No
the master is coming back to live.
A baggy approaches with two gentlemen ■
Eugene Bertram and his intimate friend, Guy
Lawrence. ,
‘This is my first visit to your home, Engene.
‘Indeed! I thought you drove frequently. ’
‘I do. Bat—how sublime !’
‘Just at that moment the snn threw a broad
glare of crimson light upon the house, and dip
ped itself, while yet an immense ball of fire
into the gnlf.
‘Yes, Gay, that was grand,’ Bertram said,
touching np the horse that he had reined up.
In a little while they wandered through halls,
examined the tarnished gildings and fine mould
ings marred by time.
‘Guy, this was the garden spot of the world at
one time. These rooms rang with festivity, and
the light from these same chandeliers glowed
down upon lovely women and sparkling jewels.
‘I can well believe it. It must have been a
noble house. I would have erjoyed my time
spent in such a place.’
‘I tell you, it was glorious living then. It was
the gayest spot in sunny Florida. Ah! the
lovely, black-eyed houris I have seen congrega
ted here! Those bright, bewitching beauties
with a dash of Spanish blood in their ^veins.
‘You appreciate the sex, old fellow.’
‘Yes, they give flavor to life if it is only a bit
ter-sweet; but tell me, Guy, what do you think
of my plans?’
‘Well, really, I have no taste for architecture,
but if this place was mine I would have folding
doors between these three rooms, and tarnish
them as drawing rooms. They would make a
stately suit; then how nicely you could fill these
niches with statuettes. You have plenty of
money—a regular Aladdin compared with the
rest of poor Southerners these degenerate times.
‘ You will soon find out better, Gay. But
about these rooms, I had thought to make of
them a library, smoking and lounging room and
a dining room, which last I would furnish rich
ly as a dining room ought to be.’
‘A good idea, but when yon bring your god
dess of beauty to dwell in this charming spot,
she may transpose all your bachelor ideas of
comfort. You know man proposes bat women
dispose.’
‘That’s all true, but we must let them know
we will not yield so easily. I am going to let
them worship me for a while. We have such
a time catching the gay winged butterflies that
we ought to receive some compensation. I like
flattery, coaxing and kisses as much a3 the la
dies.’
‘Effeminate ! I am a little so, too.’
‘All men are—but gracious, don’t a fallow get
fooled in the matrimonial lottery, and get the
tables turned ?’
•Certainly, that is what he may expect.’
«Still, I cannot help telling the girls I love
them.’
‘ No more than you can resist a hot brandy
punch with the delicious aroma rising to your
nostrils.’
‘I have one speech for all—they never listen
at what men say.’
‘No, it goes in one ear, out the other.’
‘I tell you if our wives ever have any cause to
complain of other girls liking ns there will be
an extensive quarrel,’ said Eugene.
‘Be sure they will be jealous, if the women are
as old and ugly as sin.’
‘Pat yourself in their places—if I had hus
band, handsome, popular, inclined to love all
the rosy-cheeked lassies, I would tie him at
home—reverse the course of the sun, but what
I would make him feel my anxiety.’
‘Oh, if it is impossible, Eugene, and you could
not resist it, she might pardon. Give me half a
showing, and I will ki3S a pretty girl’s lips.
Such a thing as marrying is out of the question
with me—as poor as a church mouse.’
‘I have always had money and never succeeded
foVEugen^^^^^ yoa «P so
of °t, catchin g a stra y bird.’
By the by, Eugene, I met two real orettv crirla
on tho street vesterdav On ^ girls
is.?” “•
home.
‘Y'es,
11 A me back t0 a * d saved me
to my’SSp.totaif
But his raphsodies were interrupted. Mrs Far
‘WhJ 1 ^ A 6 t ppeared in the door way.'
AY hy Fred, she cried, and the next moment
her motherly arms were around him and remem-
bermg that he was her dead son’s dearest friend,
I Ss^s £}
—very pleasant young ladies ’ scuool
theS!’ d y0U are ° n tem3 ' 1 want ‘0 know
• PA brother does business in town and
hrl I K y0U 0u ‘ with pleasure, but Thev are
color do4»ta g ™ d hT“;'“ SW6rel *»•
caD forget that if
‘They are , Guy. I never spent more delight
ful evenings anywhere; they live out here some*
where, near here too, I believe.’
t n ?o'ifi> DOtieecl i. E u geile did not seem disposed
to tell him much about the ladies, but he want
ed to know nevertheless. want-
‘Have you not called, Eugene sin™ tK„
”*•*■“ Hondo.- -No! ’I amToltoTtanS
tive am Ir Is one of these the hii-ri
she w.pt on hi. BhouIdSiVhUe F^i'S i *•*"* * P«t ““ *»
his tears with hers, u ‘No, I did like one of the
CHAPTER XXIV.
^In“ e8 bave tbe golden oranges ripened
in,, them very well, but con
cluded she was too cold and inane for me *
The two young men walked through the house
until they reached the lower part of the build
mg.
I before
Came, worn out with h« . I thing on which to cling. Th! vine^s a m as “of
“A 7 . Cha 2, g ??. in . thi8 °t. d homestead | back. Ve."dSSSldSS
al8 ? in l ts owner - fallen leaves lie uponlhe I home,
l», fury—aoroasthe ’“td fe/oiT T 0hi “e a °^drifitog ciouJ.'
lo"e l,. T p h ed l ’Lr k ™ 8k ; d , t0 hiS
‘Carrie,’ he cried.
Hntma 1 f“ y Carrie onoe more . mine own?
K many tlmes have I scanned the paoMs
Ww“ e ’- ex .P e °ting to read of your marriage?
P . A 9? rr ! 6 ' ls ihe past forgotten and
..nljntoih. toho.%; ZZer
snr A ?K K have g TO * n into perfect trees and
5 pr if. ad thmr branches across the gate as though
forbidding yon to enter the portfl of the man?
sion, given np to riotous vegetation and decay
Ihe cape iessamin 00 u .-.t 5 . * UBCa y-
tle-» fan of noble feeling-wifhXoh a world
of kindness in her beautiful bine eyes ! •
1 “other smitation, Ned ? Why, my boy,
but seldom the rude storm wind ventured
SS? tke^shT gr0aned and creaked in ‘he
inra * tb f U i b °, f mountain streams, swollen
the interraU b n/?K l0 ^ g Spring rains > came in
lnfmu f 0f tbe teill P es t> when the gale
then awa? a m ?“ ent gather new power; and
of^faroT Wlth a steadRy increasing volume
. e. roe hamped the wild March storm of the
heralds. ^ tbander and Bghtning for its
8ave - ? 8! What a Jarful night,
said Maraquita, with a shudder, gazing forth
tec hiue lightning flashes from the door
B nhVr Che ' k How tenely it is here .'-not a’
doJr the r , anche save myself and the watch
a 7 nn G ) °“ t2 ' f °r no travellers can find their way
lone ?n 0 m . oun ‘ a 'o passes, and the senor is
W g J“ “““g- Down, Gomez!’ as tho dog
5® dt ^oher hirnd on mention of his name-
th« d t !? ee back int0 the ranch, while I bar
will not come to-night
Maraquita shut the door—Hang an iron bar
K 8 VJhi P ° rtal8 . then a lamp, 8 o deaden the
imag e ft‘ D # glare .5 and knel ‘ before a little
ftiry S P iTt£”p4“ i0 blood ” * w,d br ““
8add *“ly—«e She had completed her
Found nf° r P. jete®** 011 t® the holy mother—a
and a hl ra?,d b0 ° f * beata dftfl hed np the door!
and a horse s neigh, shrill and half human in
h,r brow ” h “ ir *
SSSSupS
tapirs, b » i '*
dwell th.l / 9 ' y0U are hidd en, and might
laced are tSA° r0Ver ’ unseen > 80 dense and inter-
\Yhv in b V !“ e8 ’ and «mbs of the trees,
ion of thta n? 0t tbe T ner a g ftin take possess-
SFow the Jor JT d 0ld home ? Why does he
ered tribe fram /hf k 97 t0 dr iveeven the feath-
The old home thJ 0 ^ ft f Dd °. ran g e g roves ?
pride WonZ th 4 . h Bertram s-once their
^ „ ld the y hnow the place ?
^ ,b “
wrapped up in other things
•Oh fJS 11 l hc past forgotten and forgiven?'
trniw .7r 6d bow did yon happen to come back
te“ ly L °vc stoops to conquer.’’ Yes all is
fST f '»**'»• “to* you- O “
p b S be “ “ bl “ e - * «• <°o
bj Sie w" it ,e si?
loriL TmU «***
■»y WkmXto fi»d
e^*l55® ‘bey clasped hands, noted
other ■naiii?* 11 ?vowed to live for each
noon wom*dnamitv d ° P ark ’ ^be calm after?
thev sat °“ to,rard8 sunset, while
too , ton,ofz^as^° w,umt - * iu ‘*‘ e “*«
nave been so
won'ld'be left t^f°t nGr ‘blog 8 that tho place
have repell/fl ®? re of itself * be would
.« n T“ ed ‘heassertion, saying:
the son I have goln'it 1 * neV r er - be ne g le o‘ed by
spot and too haMn ° Ik 13 ‘°° heautifni a
Bat it haUowed by old associations.’
obliterated ThF’f lts .,P r i s ‘ in « beauty is nearly
still remain l y 8er T an ‘ 8 ‘ a tew of whom
from the house h Tha ??^ 1011 ’ are half-a-mile
Suddenly master never comes,
left to itself ° De day bowever, the spot so long
‘I believe the moon is at its height t i .
Eugene, whatsplendid coffee. I wili spirit^ 6 ’
cook away when I need one.’ 1 pmt your
‘You can come and enjoy her coffee
like. She is an old family servant ^
her years «go from OareliL. I Sl.hYoS w° g S}
diapo.e of some land and other 8 prop°er 8 tj
p.;L»ThVi ir .4/»r„T k to me “ '’ Ub
Any commands in that City? ’ 1 k ‘o-morrow.
.nd p r, b r.i l “L k r P » t I t ris o
it 8 4i 8 'r d «‘=
winding walks, arbors, shell anH mound 8,
wish it were not so late that we misfht W ° r,£ ‘ 1
the grounds. Should like vnnT! mi gbt go over
‘Have you an orchard?? 7 l ° 366 my - pl “ 8 -’
‘A fine one—a little neglected hnt ,•*
in good order. Tasta^he™ 1 bat lfc so °n
xaste these pears. They are
be in good order,
a jaiey variety,
leaves, lopnina off th C,e8nn f a ? ay the deoa y« d
and shrubs P ?h g «?i tb - 8Br P las branches of trees
ed What’ i 0 h d °° r 18 ° pen ‘ will dows all raig.
wrought b° ur ’s work Has
a juicy variety. They were j , xae yare
housekeeper.’ y wera say ed by my old
as the'wi^-^mre^M Cliqn?t!isn?t iM' fla '° r8d
your pocket, and 7 ^*win < d r i^ at q? 680 pears in
lew directions to give^Excu/e nfe/ P ’ 1 haVe a
Lawrence, Teft alone* 1 st mnsed young
dow watching the view a d n^ tan *? ing afc th e win?
is the most fortunate ms? r d i? atmg pea F 8 - ‘He
tiful home, that must have know ‘ This beau-
looking, imposing! 2y/Sh a , for ‘ an9 ‘ g° od
ey-making shrewdneaa * ^ ll b Plenty of mon-
What a lucky fellow- I gam ? r bere others lose,
ried!’ J 10w - 1 wonder he never mar-
Eugene returned ami u,« *
away through the bsJmv ? • Boon drove
cigars and langhing and «ho^^ l lg • bt , a * k, P u di n g
as the spirited horFes trottl?! 1 !. 11 * bigh spirits,
handsome bn»v b'mkiv before the
silri