Newspaper Page Text
»• m
MY COURT LADY.
B LROXOR.l LIPniS HUSSEY
CHAPTEE III.
There was a great change in Miss Bassford
after 'hat day. She was more grave, and the
shadow of a great sorrow seemed to rest npon
her.
The mystery grew dark to me. If she and my
nncle loved one another why did they not select
their bridesmaids, have a grand wedding and
then, in the happy story-book style, live happi
ly together ever after. That seemed to me the
only natural, and certainly the most rational
way, Bat instead of that, without a word of
love to her—unless, indeed, you choose to call
that selection from the “Death of Arthur," love
icords,—without a word of love he went away,
and two weeks passed before his shadow fell
again across our doorway
I could not understand bis silence. It was
harder still for me to understand his departure.
Afterwards I understood and appreciated him
fully; knew exactly what apprehensiveness led
him to leave her, knew and pitied the mighty
surging of the great ^deeps ot love which swell
ed within bis bosom. He was the first but he
was far from the last strong man whom I have
seen willingly leave the woman of his choice
while the love-words tremble on his lips, that
he may measure again the weight and height
aud depth of his manhood and affections, and
arm himself rthe trial which is to put it all to
the test.
One nigh., just after early moonrise, I went
into the garden to get Miss Bassford an exquisite
Luxembourg rose which I had intended getting
all day, but had neglected until that late hour.
She always reminded me of the sweet Loux-
embonrg roses. She had their warm, delioate
pink in her cheeks, and her head had a way of
drooping a little, just as they droop from the
stem when the night dews are heavy upon
them.
As I stood by the rosebush thinking in this
way, my heart stood still at the sound of
iliar voioe. It was Tom.
Before I oould hardly think, I was listening
to his passionate love-avowal. How he pleaded
for his love, as if for his life ! How he poured
his fiery eloquence like a torrent upon her ! And
how calm and grave and sad she was !
‘Hush, ‘ she said, ‘it cannot be! I am not
surprised. I have known it ever since that day
you left me upon the veranda. If I had only
known sooner I might have saved you. Ho ! I
could not! It is fate and we must bear it. I
cannot be your wife, Mr. Melville. Just a year
ago to-day I gave my promise to another.’
'Oh my God !'—It was like the groan ot the
dying.
1 stood in the moonlight and wept for him;
my brave, true uncle.
My great love for this woman which had grown
upon me for months, and had strengthened
with the slow growth of the mind which she had
developed; this strong tide of love rolled back
upon me turning itself into a kind of hate.
What right had she, a stranger and depend
ent. to send my uncle adritt in this cold way !
She stopped at his low exclamation.
Presently she began again and, this time, her
tones were more hard and lifeless.
‘I cannot say that I love this man. But when
I gave him my promise I knew no man I ad
mired more, and I honestly thought I would
come to love him in time. He left me firmly
relying upon my word. lie was then prepar
ing to go on a voyage to China, from which he
would not return beforo a year and probably a
mouth or t | Q m0 re. I cafi, accept no love nntih
he returns t n( | j gj ye hj m V f a j r opportunity to
win u>»l w must wait lor
tieorge. —Then her voice broke completely.
It all rashed upon me then; her flush when
she spoke of my cousin was explained. This
George who held her promise was no other than
my sailor cousin. Truly, strange things hap
pen m this life ! 8 *
The memory of her voice, her cold, lifeless
voice, rolled back upon me, and strangely
enough I found my new-oorn hate changing it-
selt into pity, and again, changing into strong
yearning love, as I stood still and thought of
from the canvass but that was enough ; no more
was needed to tell her sad story.
Her hands lay idly upon her lap, she was
clearly past striving, only waiting for what
would never come; only thinking of what, had
gone, and what she had missed, while she watch
ed the progress of the homeward-bound ship
which could never bring back to her what she
had lost.
It was a sad picture, too sad I thought. It
jarred painfully upon my youth and hopeful
ness.
‘What is it?* I asked one day, as we stood to
gether before it.
For an answer she picked up her Tennyson
and read:
CHAPTER IV.
a dull, rainy November day my cousin
ter. “ thought
There under the cedar trees, in the moonlight
there came to me like a revelation, a knowledge
of this woman's most secret heart. Without a
word to guide me, with only the tones of hei
V01 . c ® “ “y ears. I discovered the treasure
which she was trying to hide from herself, and
1 knew that treasure to be my uncle's love —the
one thing of all the world that was dear to her
X hen he answered her.
‘If that be the case, Corneille, I will stand mv
chance with the other. When he returns, he
will come here, I s ippose. You will let me
know of bis coming, will you not? I would not
like to rush headlong and without preparation
upon my snemy:' ^
•Not that, Mr. Melville! You and George
could never be that. He is so noble. Promise
me you will not think of him in that way.’
‘No, I make no promises. I do not know whn i,'„mTTi 10 worn trying to
your friend George is; but he must be verv dear mako hehielf love another fellow. Confound it
to you, since you can plead so earnestly for him' f •’ 1 7 18h sb * a ? d ‘he whole lot of us were
'»« uuLmJhX”„r\I iE3L*E. SHr. Whit
“O well for the fisherman’s boy
That he shouts with his sister at play;
O, well for the sailor lad
That be sings in his boat on the bay.
And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill.
But O, for the touch of a vanished hand
And the sound of a voice that is still.
Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O sea.
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.”
That was it:
The tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.
I understood it all. Knew why the lonely
woman watched the ships which would come
but would bring her no joy, knew why the
hands were folded from all labor, because they
were so utterly unable to grasp results most
wished for. It wns all as plain as day to me.
As plain as the pain, and striving, and longing,
in the face of this other woman who stood by
me.
It was true of her also. ‘The tender grace* of
early womanhood oould never come oack to her.
The unrest and grief might, and probably
would, be overcome; but through all the joys of
all the years to come the memory of these days
would be upon her heart. She would never be
light-hearted and thoughtless again. She had
come to us a fresh, hopeful girl. She stood by
msnow, very little older as months run, yet
with the thorny crown of womanhood resting
upon her brow, and with all her face covered
with the pain of the torture.
She was an honorable and true woman. Hav
ing given my cousin her promise she would do
her best to fulfill it She had led him to hope
for the first place in her heart and because of
this hope which she had held out to him she
would fight with herself to keep the place for
him.
I felt sorry for her. I could not tell whether
I felt sorrier for my uncle, than for her. In
those days it came easy for me to forget my un
cle and remember the man. A man’s mature,
earnest love is a terrible thing. Like some
mighty river, so long as it flows in its smooth,
natural course, it is most grand; but let It onoe
from any cause over-leap, its bounds and what
destruction follows!
Once, with all my confidence in him, I trem
bled for him.
He came into the library one night after all
had left the room but mother and me. It was
quite late; near midnight.
In those days mother and I were thrown to
gether for the first time in our lives as a mother
and grown daughter. Our mutual love and
anxiety, and sympathy for our favorite brother
and uncle did much to bring about this happy
change.
Heretofore I had been an elder child; now I
George Alliston arrived at our home. A fitting
dav for his arrival I thought.
You see I had not seen my cousin since my
ohildhood. Ours was not a demonstration
family ; I had never heard him very affectionate
ly mentioned. On the other hand my uncle
had caught none of my father’s undemonstra
tive manner, but was a fine representative of my
mother’s family, a warm hearted southron, with
a manner running over with the love, and affec
tionateness of his nature. I had grown up with
this romping, rollicking uncle, and it was na
tural that I should sympathize entirely with
him. More especially, since I partook of my
mother’s, nature and felt the depths of my soul
trembling and ready to spring into affectionate
life at the slightest word of encouragement. It
was perfectly natural that I should love my un
cle beyond expression, and that I should enter
fully into his joys andfiorrows. and also, in oon-
sequence of this it was natural that I should be
prejudiced against this cousin who was coming
to claim the one woman in all the world who
could bring happiness to my uncle.
But when I saw this cousin I could not help
relenting a little.
He was so handsome, so perfectly handsome.
Now even my partiality could not say that for
Tom. His was a bright, candid, truthful face,
with occasionlly a tenderness of expression
which was extremely attractive. His was a face
which women and children would instinctively
trust, and which all men would feel drawn to,
and of which they would see ‘He is a fine fel
low, a regular fiuhiailow.’
But cousin George! I thought of every grand
statue and picture that I had ever seen and put
them all togetherto^Aoke up anything equal to
my cousin. Above the average in height with
broad shoulders and a perfect figure, a high
square forehead, white as any woman’s, over
which lay his wavy brown hair, softer, and glos
sier than any I had ever seen, The lower part
of his face was tanned by the winds and suns of
the ooean which was his home ; his eyes were a
deep clear blue, and in them was a merry mis
chievous twinkle and a half-childish innooence
of expression inexpressibly fascinating in so
manly a fellow as he looked to be, his nose was
strait and clean-cut with delioate sensitive nos-
trols—a fine nose. I have never seen a low-born
man with such a nose; his mouth was hidden
by a heavy brown moustache, and he wore a
long thick beard. For the first time in my life,
I found myself admiring beard.
He was standing just under the lamp light when
we’entered the parlor. He oome forward, greet
ing us eagerly. There was a certain confident
tenderness in hisfoice when he spoke to Miss
Bassford.
He knew his power, that was evident His
ohanoe for viotory lay in that very touoh of con
fident, manly tenderness. He knew it better
than anyone else; because he knew perfectly,
the character of the woman with whom he had
to deal. He knew that his surest and most
powerful aid would come from this very trust
in her ; that this would be the one obstacle
which her weakness would be less likely to sur
mount.
Then too he had lived in the sooiety of many
lands ; he had turned the heads of many women
and he knew that this tender defferenoe of man
ner, and silent, watchful, half-appropriating in
terest never failed to win any one of them. This
beautiful, manly cousin of mine needed no les
sons in courting, that was evident.
While I watched him my mind involuntarily
fell upon thifypaving of Anthony Trolloppe in
his ‘Harry Hdy 0 frj:.’
•The man fifi ^i3pme8 divine in a woman's
a daughter, companion, and confidante, allj -xne man *a es(t jouihh uivme in a womans
iu\ne. < , ■* “* 7**- •' . “jLchieved his olaimto celes-
euhiDso „„ __ 8u,d ftrt ‘ c, «® idem assault. And alas !
give toe naio to hj i£ ar /J h un very
OUIMOSA tivct -«ovvq Qt onr. 7
vonr dear to both o? us fee as the c£ her long
nAji thingiqtM^s. ^ UaU lHe ° therS
We were talking of Tom and how it all would
end when he walked in npon ns.
wna silent and moody, saying almost noth
ing except to ask after Miss Bassford; and after
Hon7i, 8 f h ^‘ time with a muttered exclama
tion that this sort of thing had to come to an
end he left us.
, ^°‘ her was a c,ose observer; that was my
first thought after he was gone, and it came with
much comfort to me. I could hope that she had
noticed nothing peculiar about him though it
was quite plain to me that he was almost intox
icated.
ungod like. [ 1,1
Poor Uncle Tim! He would stand a poor
chance by the side of this young Greek god in
a naval uniform, who stood calmly under the
bright lamp light talking to Miss Bassford.
But then, thought I, Uncle Tom had one ad
vantage. She was fighting against him. And
when a woman finds it necessary to fight against
the attractions of any man she is very near to
loving him with all her soul.
Thai oertainly was a morsel of comfort with
which I might satisfy myself for a time.
said in just the least bit of a defensive way,
‘In mentioning George to you I neglected to
give his full name, and ytu said nothing to re
mind me of my oarelessness. It was terribly
careless I admit, and must ask you to pardon
me. But snob surprises are pleasant. I always
like to stumble upon my friends.’ -
‘I had rather be prepared,’ said Tom, with
just a little emphasis.
And I trembled, lest George should catch the
under current of it all, but he did not seem to
notice anything strange about their voices.
And then I began to suspect that he was lack
ing in the inexpressible fineness, and acute
sensibility which inevitably enters into the
make-up of the best characters.
I sat in the corner pretending to read; but
really watching them.
The evening passed off very pleasantly.
That surprised me. You see, I was very youDg
and was unaccustomed to see people who con
trol themselves according to the laws of socie
ty. Naturally, we are all savages, in one re
spect; we all are inclined to do things that are
suggested to us by our strongest emotions.
Civilized people are quite different. They do
the things which are not suggested by emotions.
We came to know this after manv years; but at
first it seems very incomprehensible to us.
I fully expected Miss Bassford to be nervous
and ill at ease. I had made up mv mind to see
George unmercifully snubbed and cut by Tom.
Instead ot that, the three laughed and sang
and talked as unconstrainedly as if they were
all happily engaged to three adorable bodies
far off, and have never a thought of each other.
What masks we wear! what flimsy, absurd,
disgusting masks; yet how happily for us all,
are they adjusted.
I could not keep myself from comparing
these two men; the one so god-like in his beau
ty, the other so infinitely bettei, so man-like in
bis sincerity: the one so polished aud gentle,
the other so gentle and true.
Yet, my uncle Tom was a better man than
George; yet even I, with all my inexperience,
knew that the majority of women pass him by
and choose the other. J
Then I thought of their iove. It was qnite
clear to me that my uncle had given his best;
that never again oould he love another woman
as he loved this one; that, losing her, he would
lose his all, and that nothing in life could ever
atone for that great loss.
George loved her too, but very differently.
He was not the man to leel anything as Tom
would. His mother s stern integrity was his,
but his father's vacillating heart was his also.
He would not tell her a lie; he would bite out
his tongue rather than deceive her; but if she
should say ‘nay, I cannot; go your way and
leave me, he would go; would plunge head-
long into his work for a season, and then would
love some other woman with the same passion
ate earnestness with which he had loved her.
He had been true to her fora year, with only
her slight promise to satisfy him, I know; but
the uncertainty and probability of success at
last were quite different from the certain knowl
edge of her loss to him and her love for an
other.
I could and do understand how a fickle man
may be laithfnl through a long period of un
certainty, and then, having certainly lost his
love beyond all hope of recovery, can turn from
her and find some other face as fair and some
other eyes as love-worthy. That was my opin
ion of my cousin,
Only once did uncle Tom get a chance to speak
alone with her. That was just brfore he left,
when George had gone up to his room for cigars
for the two. Then he said to her.
•George is my friend.‘ So iJcanrot declare
war against him. There is noting left for me
toedo but to stand off’and waif,/o>-' AA t
mfi^gooo enough to make ’
Fulfill your Droinia« i.;„. ./. w j mau nappy.
Late in the afternoon the crowd who had been
scouring the woods in hopes of finding the trail
assembled in front of Mr. Montgomery’s Louse
and there after refreshing themselves with tood
and rest, separated into four squads and again
set out on the search, with the understanding
that if Nelly was not found by midnight they
they should meet at the mouth of Sliver Creek
for farther consultation.
Thsn, through thorny thickets and over stony
hills and through swamps haunted by the wild
beast and the deadlier rattlesnake, the men pro
ceeded in their unavailing search.
The moon rode high, aud the altitude of glit
tering Orion announced that the middle of the
night was near. Julius bad separated himself
from the rest of the party, who had turned their
steps toward the appointed place of meeting.
The continued absence of Raino perplexed him
no little and he determined to go by h s father’s
house and inquire if anything had been seen of
him. He learned that he had not been seen. His
next thought was that possibly he might have
made his way to the home of Mrs. Lemon, to
whom he had seemed in some degree attached,
and he made his way through the woods to the
sequestered, out of the way place in which she
lived. Her house had been visited that day, in
the hope, doomed to disappointment, of there
finding the lost girl. Aunt Penny, on hearing
the account of Nelly’s disappearance and of her
parents ’distress had seemed much agitated, but
had assured them, with an earnestness that im
pressed Julias, that all would come|right.
Cautiously and looking watchfully right and
left as he went, as he had been doing all the p
Julius approached the little house, hid among
the trees and with its tnick, tangled garden
sloping down to a stream. He came up to the
house on the back part and lightly springing
across the stream, found himself at the back of
the garden, and close to the low fence overrun
with vines. He was about to vault overjthis,
when he stopped suddenly, for he had caught
tne sound of murmuring voices, proceeding
from a little gtape arbor on the inside of the
enclosure.
The words that arrested his steps was the
qu<-stiou in a man’s low voioe.
-Is she still asleep ?’ The answer was equally
low, but the tones were clear, rich and musical,
‘Yes ; Mrs. Lemon is watching her. Has Cas
per not come?
‘No, i am beginning to be impatient. He
ought not to have ventured out. The whole
neighborhood is out, hunting for Nelly, and in
spite of his cunning, he may get taken.’
‘Brother, why do you do this thing? wont
you tell me now ? I am old enough to be trust
ed.’
‘It was to save her from the hands of Lava-
tor and his minions. When she first disappear
ed those whose knew of her disappearance were
told she had been left with a man named Henly.
It was merely a blind, but it was a sad mistake,
for now her adopted father has bought the well-
known Henley plantation and Lavator has trac
ed her here. Casper has friends, as well as hir
ed spies on the watch, and we found out from
them that an attempt was soon to be made to
get her into their power. This move is done to
forestall them. It is the best that could be done,
though I am sorry for the distress it has caused
her and the friends who love her so dearly.’
•But why not tell these friends the circum
stances, and let her be taken away and conceal
ed with their consent?’
God bless you, Corneille' WV>„M T~ — J
1,™I diftS.,,,*" J r “ h b 0 ‘“: Z!
“ -
‘Because Casper is bound by an oath not to
let her history be known or suspected: and to
explain things sufficiently to get their consent
to taking her away would require that the secret
should be known or at least suspected.’
[ am sorry; obe irill nuffai no-, will do our
best to soothe her. What a blessing thut Casper
■ - - “-t strans“ gift of magnetizing, else we could
never have Kfipt ner so quiet aud passive! What
a wonderful being he is ! almost supernatural
m his ^ strength of muscle and mind. Did she
affianced lover staring ,Ter mTheZe/
*srKe.he 6
I caught the odor of brandy when he first
came into the room, and. as I walked with him
to the gate, I could see him by the moonlight
trying to steady himself.
An irresistible loathing crept over me; this
very thing was disgusting to me beyond all
things on earth. But, by strong force" and act-
myse d lf by “ y l0V ® hlm 1 tried to conquer
As we stood together at the gate, I went up
E’ltoLdS!"' “ a '*»'“« “r ‘“d on hi.
‘Uncle Tom, are you losing strength? You
oan never win her this way. ’ 8
‘What way?’ said he fiercely shaking off mv
touch. ‘The devil is in it, Alice! How can I
win a woman who sets herself to work trying to
I think I have hinted once or twicT before of ed torwa^d his faee'^
_! hght weakness in the character of | the next instant he had conquered^himlfeu’ su'd
It is either friend or foe with me* £ns b^n^te?! *° oom . e I il? re with her'danger-
and, most assuredly, no favored suitor«# T beauty to men wild?’ 8
can be my friend. But of one thing* I am oer! tosMhow^rworiihnT *“ not too drnnk
‘am- Would it not be more honorable in me to Md tor anJi » h “ rt “f' J 3 ® 8ftid « no “ore,
stay away from you until this ‘Gwrge“ “nd ? I silen^v “ ^ W ° 8tood to « ether q^e
can stand upon equal footing? I do not want to
ge ‘ an y n “*“ r advantage of him while he is ab- ^ untied his horse, and, preparing
sent— Then with voioe growing tender and ° .*’ 8to PP ed suddenly, his natural re*
pleading, as at first when he asked her to be his dnement and oourtly manliness
'— i frenzy of drink.
oonquering the
wife, he oame quite close to her saying i
‘Which shall it be, Corneille ? Shail I go or ^ i!* 41 ® *" L 1 bel *eve I am wild
stay ?‘ K I to-night. But Alice, when your lover comeTre
She put out her hands as if to fight him off B S,? 1 ® and do not 8en d him from you to
crying brokenly, with all her heart in her voice 1 j Th ®“ before I oould answer he gallopped
w Z hy d M y0 ° to J tnr ® me? Am I not bound? ™ i th ® 1I le “ vin 8 me in ‘be nfght-
W hat would you have me say? calm, praying with all my soul for his 8
this woman.
ni7hf w “ s t rikiD 8>y apparent to me on this
night. The love of the beautiful was almost a
passion with her.
Every look upward to his face, left ite effeot
upon her countenance.
Undoubtedly there was a pleasure in being I the perfectly unselfish a 7* n ® 18
near,in talking to a so perfectly fascinating man. orable manf ’ ° f “ P erfe °tly hon-
p jojk ■asLrrArs tssi s.t,“ t*** -
If I could I would have had it otherwise of laughed “Cornefn, ■ ^ rre }> have you?‘ he
arse. If it had been possible I would^have I Itoink I shalTwrifn d ®!! l °P i “8 traits,
had the woman of my uncle’s ohoioe, as strong I time in my life I have seen her 1 f* (? r first
as iron, as true as steel, and as hard as adamant bored. • ™ 8een h ® r actual] y Poking
t °““? th ‘ “W in m I Tom to
on the veranda.
regained his old sad composurA Dearly as he
loved her, he leved his honor more an,?
would not let her break his word “ Uhon? a
struggle to make it good, even to gain herself.
You may talk of woman's love; but the grand
ne’arest divfnT
not look the picture of noble pathetic beauty to
day, whea she yielded at last to his influe ce
and folded her hands and drooped her loug’
iovely lashes: Is her brother as handsome as
she is Theodore ?
‘He is her exact counterpart in features and
expression, though the color ot the eyes is dif
ferent.’
at least
A!arr»r=*s! **«?-• •M&zxsg
escape,
i ^5*®! thftt “‘gbk be had upon his face the
look of one who has passed through the fire, not
‘Not one word, darling,* answered he triumph- < and his “Nation,
antly, ‘you have told me all. ‘ v
Add then without another word withnnt al. r ««. WUKU . UH IIP „ _ .
slightest caress,he left her; too honorable to take I ^ bont 8cars J rnI y. bat purified ; a grander
advantage of her weakness and yielding holier manhood enveloped him, bat he^vas still
After that the days went on sadly enonoh V 8t ® r “ ftnd 8ad ’ was still
niTni 08 "" 8 °? , y?® ca8ionally ; and “ms Bassford “ ont £ 8 there 00me a letter from Con-
plainly avoided him. “ Iora 8,n George. He was coming, jnsi as Tom said
It was abont this time that there began to d«. h ® A ?°? ,d * 8a,d
velop upon her easel in the schoolroom thl then ‘h?.** 1 * 18 ‘bat night father told ns of it, and
most marvellously beautiful picture I have ever 8Wd 7 Ml88 Bassford.
\ held ‘ ’George begs me to say to you that he will ex-
In the foreground was a narrow strip of rookv ?„ 0t 8C ° lnp ] e f'® falfi Bment of your promise. That
oeach, rising gradually upon one side into bills 7 maWJ* h “ non8en8e ' r ve no doubt. But I
and further on aronnd the bend of the shore in’ d « k Pu°T yoa were fri «nds.‘
5? « r ®y- beetling crags. Under the crags, f® 61Dg that h ® waited for her answer, she said.
Z h ?u C8 L m b,n ® waters of the ba y and, be- ‘ W ® wero obliged to be friends r do
yond, the heaving, restless, foaming sea. On ? ot 8n PP° 8 « Mrs Alliston ever mentioned th«
^ bayWa8a b ° a ‘j «» ‘be boat was*, healthy? fa ®‘ V°u, but we lived next door to her and®
work nS'iS' 1 .?, PPy ^ absor bed in his 8h .® A t nd r my S untba ™ been friends for years
rfc. Under the hills were stately shin. . Ah, I had not heard that hato™ j
L „ n ,“ er . *b® bills were stately ships at . . A “‘ * bad not heard that before. That is I
rest upon their anchors, and ont in deep water P ad not heard th »‘ you were such close netoh
*°*" ds ‘>'>”>. 0, coarse I ki„. lh . S
bpon the beach was a group of fisher-children th tb ® snb ject dropped. V
gathering shells, and building their tiny plav- 1 wondered then, and fo
p Buena, auu cunning their tiny play
houses, and near them upon a rock, sa^ f wo
man watching the incoming ship. This was
the main figure of the picture. Every stroke
hearUhrob ° P thiS figure oarri ®d with it a
Hers
whVa d ® j j® n ’ and for 8011,6 time afterward,
why George did not write himself to Miss Bass-
f°* d ‘ ln f Jf ad of sending her a short, bare, mes-
H te i rwards 8h6 told me. ‘hat this silence
was the only thing she had exacted of him
She wanted to give him a year of utter separa-
lOD from llAlV linninn fKnX al x a* • *. .
onr friends as we find them. We cannot make
them over, and fashion them to snit ns entirely
in everything. 3
“ a y ba T 6 be ®n this very ‘touoh of earth
whichmade her eo dear to Tom. It may be that
he thought with Arthur’s faithless queep?
rr • ,TT T >’bat, friend, tome.
He is all fault, who has no fanlt at all.
For who loves me must have a touoh of earth.
The low sun makes the color.’
n,^, h ®K 8 ?/ f e *»w Urawn to our opposites. It
“?“ y b ® ^ hat b ®‘ ,n bia glorious incorruptible
strength, loved her the better for this very weak-
which he come so near to losing her.
Tom oime to. Wer ® 8tandin * together, talking,
fl ® e k “ ew ‘bat Miss Bassford’s lover would be
written ac w r . d,ng 10 his re qn««t she had
written him a little note—‘He is coming to-dav ’
n.K j not know how it happened but none of
ns h ad mentioned to him that we expected
J®. R 0W ‘hatl think of it, I do not believe
we had a chance at him for a long enough time
to tell him before George oame. 8
whelmte r a lt o r£ n,d b ® - a grea< L 8Ur P« 86 . an over
«s M-“ g » ,ad surprise to find cousin Georg,
and Miss Bassford’s lover the same. 8
ag0 ’ wben G6or ge visited ns before, he
and lorn were oonBtant companions, fishing
GMtee 8 teff° a ^ Dg to g6 ‘b®r, and finall-, before
7®® g ® Ie ft they had grown to love each other
I?5 y T d ®"M Though not related in the slight-
®?” rf™ ben>g my mother's brother, and George
my fathers nephew, they were like brothers,
lov ® for ea-b Other had never been
allowed to grow cold,
wa^ked^-nte f ° rg0t his 6X P re88 i° n when he
MLWritten^nn t® r P° m and 8ft w George. It was
g ad fac ® 88 P la in as day. He was
? vid ® nt » bQt to
go
Concluded next week.
“FORTY YEARS AGO.”
drifting sands from the moun-
TAINS AND FOOT-HILLS OF
NORTHEAST GEORGIA.
A Brilliant Romance Based npon Facts.
BY G, J. N. WILSON.
v “f rs a to? 8 Past the first bloom of youth, 4i °n from her, hoping that in that time he might
?®, beautiiul Still; a face outof which all of hope ? nd 80me otb6 * woman that could make him
BhiJ gone, and upon which all of despair was f °rget her.
written. Only three quarters of the face shone
j 1 - ,. "UW WHO OVIUOUb , out lO
for d J^h tba A.* Ge0rge wh °<n he had been hating
for months, that was a shock ! 8
°' a “®«nei»t he held back; but getting him-
doubW 7 qni0kly ‘ 80 quickly indeed that I
doubt if George noticed it, he held out his
hand, saying , n his cordial way.
„„ j?„ trnly glad to see you, old boy. I had
tnrnntf ^ w ? r ® in America at all.’ Then
turning to Miss Bassford.
me °t eert 8 ; P re P ar ® d a pleasant surprise for
friend rtal &ly did not expect to find an old
CHAPTER XX.
The party of which Calveda was the leader
now labored under difficulties. Raino was still i •-— ...
missing, the ground was torn up to a great dis- g° od - But what dark mystery was turn h
te ? n iD 7 6 f y d,reo ‘ ,on . and a heavy rain began whic h the girl’s life appearedtobe^rrnnnd b /»
to fall, destroying all hope of foliowinglhe I ^ d ‘base two unknown beings spoke ot he
brother and tnat he was somewhere well
cealed from the enemies who
and his sister. ‘
‘I wish I could see him or his home
while we are here. *
*1 am glad he is so securely hidden from these
myrmidons. I wish his siiter were so well con
cealed. Then I would feel satisfied, •
A silence of some minutes ensued.’ Julius had
listened to this, low-spoEen talk on ihe inside
ot the garden fence with the utmost astonish
ment—the most startled and thrilled attention.
Who were the speakers? whence had they come?
Wnat were they doing here? Whom aid this
strange talk reter to ? It wa3, it must be to Nel
li* Montgomery ? It must be they who had
taken her away.
Yes, undoubtedly these must be her kidnap-
P® rs ' ffV Wha ‘ eould be their motive in carrying
her off? The man had said he did it to savf
Wh lrom , , so “® secret and powerful enemy
Who oould this enemy be, and why did he have
designs upon a being so innocent and harmlel?
as this young girl ? That seemed indeed a pt
zlmg question. Could it be connected with the
mystery of her early life-of her unknown faS!
Iy ? It must be, aud this Casper of whom men-
tion was made must be the mysterious man
^ hohad P laC6d ‘be infant Nelly on the thres
hold of Mr Montgomery’s home. And now it
seemed he had taken her away as mysteriousiv
And those two unknown persons who spoke
with so much refinement of speech and of feel
Mr*s~ L^^ T 8ted iD ‘be*abdnotion?^ Jfi
Mrs. Lemon-who was so devoted to Nelly—
she too hau connived at oarrying off the girl
whose interests she had always seemed to have
£ “"i? h ® a t v T r* ‘bis step ooufd not be
intended to harm Nelly. It was meant for her
good. It had been judged best to let it be se
cret because of an oath of secresy taken by this
strange being who watched unseen over the
girL There were, it seemed, sufficient though
to tom incomprehensible reasons for the step
was this by
traiJ - following the
ir.!"": 1 '?"'" 1 ' immi
olta ? * r <™«l >llM the separa-
tion of the tracks at the old log was only a ruse
to mislead them. While debating the best
course to pursue, Jnlias Latrain made a curious
discovery. Wondering from the first why the
ground was so thoroughly torn up in that parU-
oular locality, he made a careful examination oi
Thi- 1 '7 7? which were thick upon the ground.
This led to the discovery that shelled corn bad
for l °: e \ i hat part of ^e forest, and
eridMt been root iog! It was now
evident that the kidnapomg party had ernploy-
ed this stratagem in order to destroy the trace
UD^tnrn«Ii® 8e M 0 ?i. Th6 le '‘ v,, 8 were found to be
the ?™® d a “ tb ®^ Si ‘ v er Creek, where
con-
Wh belly’s brother? Who was he?
^7!„ Wa i h ®. ? d, ! llU8 . kne w that his existence
the strangers had evidently taken to the water
but as the stream was by this time much swob
len, no one could tell whether they had gone up
or down. There was now no alternative left
but to maite a general search of all parts of the
Th* y tr wbl ° h .. was at 0003 earnest!v carried oa
The tracks followed by Latrain aud his party
?°“ n . le d to the part of the forest where the corn’
had been scattered, and tuere they joined Cal
veda shortly after the dispersion of the
friend/ lo uuu an 010 Through the weary day ev« P ry part 0 f the conn
Pi d 1 oatoh a faint bitterness in his tone ? searched ’bM withn^ 1 ® t°- reach ‘ wa8 «wefully
I think she caught it too, for she flashed and | the abdno’ted gTrl? mak,!lg “ ay dl8CJV6 ^ °f
de a Au g n rc ed aii b t y h!s h ; g i7 0b!
theyouth^vUuli^b^ji^^j^jto^h^^e brain of
and ooafii86d him He knA® amaZ0( ^
mg that, incomprehensible aTit 1 ^ 01 *^ 06 ® 3 '
be for the b, st. ““ Q81Dle it seemed, might
‘If I could see these two in the oarden’H,
Julius. ‘Taeir utterances are tKZ ‘ b °" gbt
and gentle hearts ; how do the?7L® ® retiDed
and form ? I must manage to ^e * PP ®“ r ln lac ®
Looking about him he perceived „ „
opening , n the fence, caused K narrow
palings being missing M ivin ^ 01
be reached this, he thru7t aside tt ®“ 8,y tiU
peered into the garden r ^t-® to ® vlnes and
tion of the voic^s he l ' ^ ° kln « ia ‘he d.reo-
™.n .nd T r “
five as if listening to some noi«« f , d atten *
A nobler p a i- had nev->r mat fw 8 ® at a dlstan ce.