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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