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»• 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.