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7V.
V
HEAKT LEAVES.
I am sitting alone in my favorite nook,
On the green robed banks of a rippling brook:
The sweet orange buds are sparkling bright.
In the silver} - beams of the queen of night;
The song of the whip-poor-will float' through the air,
And Zephyrs cool fingers play with my brown hair.
I’ve buried the cares of the day at last,
And roam in the realms of the fairy past.
The dream of; my girlhood, I live over once more,
And fancy I'm with One as in days of bright yore;
When his low. gentle whispers in sweet melody fell
On my heart, in a wilderiug, witching, magic spell.
We roved in the woodlands and gathered wild flowers,
Then scattered them idly 'neath jessamine bowers;
And sometimes we'd weave them in garlands fair,
Then, kneeling, he’d braid them in my brown hair.
We’d seat ourselves by the streams murmuring blue,
Or sail on the lake in our little canoe;
Sweet snatches of old-time ballads we’d sing,
Then wait for the answering echoes ring.
Oh! my heart, it dreamed a beautiful dream,
As I gazed on the waves of the bright, sunny stream,
As ]ie pressed his lips to my brow so fair,
Or toyed with the curls of his darling’s hair.
He told me bright rubies, and pure white pearl,
should deck the brow of Ids sweet, bonny girl;
Fine silks, and rich satins, and laces so rare,
Were the elegant robes I always should wear.
He had roved long years cross the ocean’s tide,
But had come back home to seek him a bride.
It was thus that he won from the forest wild;
The heart of the innocent, loving, trusting child.
Ah! I loved him with all that holy, pure fire,
That might satisfy’ even a tyrant’s desire.
How conld I know that a present so bright,
But heralded a future as dark as night?
Long years have passed since that sunset hour,
We stood hand in hand ’neath our rustic bower;
He kissed me so fondly as he said: “Farewell!
I’ll seek my bride soon in this wild-wood dell.”
No more in the twilight do I eagerly wait,
’Neath the gnarled old oak by;the cottage gate,
For the coming of him, whom I deemed spoke true,
Ashe told me the story, so old, yet so new.
In a land yon the sea, his false heart he sold
To a beautiful maiden for her coffers of gold.
Now my love-dream is over—’tis only a Heart-leaf,
Faded and dead, that I bury in silence and grief.
Florida Wildflower.
DELAMEKE;
—OR—
Corinne the Sphynx.
BY PAUL C. LE SUEUB.
CHAPTER XYI.
Mr. Ethmer had been from home several days,
the cause whereof he had told to no man. On
his return toward home, as be passed Bonnie
Doon, which Harry was to leave upon that very
night now swiftly approaching, there entered
his mind a half-formed intention of stopping
and going in to see his still convalescent young
kinsman. But he hastily checked any such in
clination, saying to himself with some com
plaisance:
‘The boy will never oome to any good though.
I shall not bother myself with him. Besides he
may with to borrow money. I know he needs
it’
With suoh eonsolatory and comfortable reflec
tions he passed on. But never fear, unhappy
old man, joined indissolubly to thy idol money
bags ! J Were Harry a starving wretoh, outcast
upon tha/worl^ thy door would be the iastfhe
i to to-beg a crpst of bread" '
|e first moment in which ^ie had
1 Barry had no money-making pro-
ao ‘accumulation’ about him. Mr. Eth
mer, it isfhardly necessary to state, had no very
high estimation or regard for him. But his
face this evening wore an expression of nervous
ness and of an anxiety which could in no wise
be imputed to concern for the probable fate of
Mr. Wilmot. The sun bad now sunk out of
sight behind the hills in the west, and the even
ing star glittered in the firmament. The later
it grew the greater became his nervousness, and
suddenly, along the lonely stretch of road that
lay before him in the dim, uncertain twilight,
he thought he saw the figure of a man crouch
darkly by the roadside.
‘Whoa !' he abruptly exclaimed to the driver,
while at the same time he clapped his hand to
his breast coat-p'ocket where he seemed to have
deposited some precious bundle. The driver
repeated the command to the horses, the carri
age stopped, and a slight paleness came to the
old gentleman’s ch6ek. Having discovered that
his bundle was safe, he ran his hand into a
satchel on the seat beside him, and grasping the
handle of a pistol therein concealed, he said, as
if somewhat ashamed of his trepidation:
•Go on; I was mistaken. But do you see a
man sitting yonder by the road ?'
The driver having driven until within a few
yards of the figure in question, replied that it
was Colonel Fenton. This answer was closely
followed by that gentleman himself.
‘What in the name of Heaven. Colonel Fen
ton,’ began Mr. Ethmer, no little relieved—‘are
yon doiDg out here in this lonely place at this
time of the day ?’
Colonel Fenton explained that being out tak
ing a ride, which was a common thing for him
to do, his horse had become frightened at some
thing near the road. In attempting to get down
and see what the object was, he had let go the
bridle rein, and his steed had taken himself
unceremoniously away and left him without
any means of continuing his journey. He
had heard the carriage approaching and had
taken his seat to wait for it.
‘Come, get in,’ said Mr. Ethmer. ‘Yon must
go home with me, I shall be glad to have you
spend the night; but if yon insist, I shall send
you home as soon as yon wish,’ and he made
room in the carriage for Colonel Fenton, who,
without either accepting or declining his invi
tation to spend the night under his roof, mere
ly thanked him and took a seat beside him.
‘Yon gave me a pretty severe fright,’ contin
ued the old gentleman as the carriage robed on.
‘How so?’ demahded Colonel Fenton.
‘Why, sir, I took yon to be a robber !’ and Mr.
Ethmer laughed as if he rather enjoyed the
absurdity of the idea.
Colonel Fenton scowled as the speaker, but*
rapidly changing the expression of his features*
he said, pleasantly:
‘Yon flatter me. sir. But are yon really ap-
hensive of being robbed ?’
Mr. Ethmer leaned toward him, and placing
his hand again upon his breast coat-pocket, said
with sententious mysteriousness and with bated
breath:
'Eight thousand dollars here, sir.’
Colonel Fenton’s cold, crafty eye sought that
of his companion for an instant with fixed, in
tense expression, but its furtive meaning passed
quickly away, and he shook his head as he care
lessly observed:
‘I hardly think, sir, that yon run any risk
from robbery.’
‘Under ordinary circumstances,’ replied Mr.
Ethmer, ‘neither would I, for there has never
happened snch a thing in these parts within
my rtcollection; but tver since I received this
money,’ and here his voice sank almost to a
wLisper, ‘I have seen a man watching and fol
lowing me!'
‘Is it possible ?' asked Colonel Fenton in sur
prise.
‘Truth,’returned Mr. Ethmer, decisively.
‘Perhaps it was your imagination,’ suggested
Colonel Fenton, incredulously.
‘No, I never had any,’ said Mr. Ethmer
‘Wnat kind of a man was it?’ asked Colonel
Fenton.
‘Tall, awkward, angular looking man with
bushy beard and mustache. Gotafprfnl way
of looking at you from under the Rim of hie
hat. ‘
‘It’s very singular,’ muttered ColoneB’enton,
musingly. f ■
‘Cursed singular,’ assented Mr. Ethmer.
‘Where did you see him last ?’ demanded Colo
nel Fenton.
Mr. Ethmer reflected a moment and then re
turned:
‘When I got off the cars he was standing on
the platform looking at me in that sideling, un
der-brim fashion, and I am of the impression
that he got off, too’ just before the train started.
I wouldn’t have noticed him if he had not acted
so singularly; but when I saw him get eff at ev
ery station, and get on jnst as I did, keeping
always in sight, I began to suspect him. He
watched me like a hawk.’
‘Dismiss the subject from your mind, my
dear sir,’ said Colonel Fenton, ‘no doubt it was
some honest countryman either struck with
yonr appearance or your resemblance to some
one of hia acquaintances.’
Mr. Ethmer shook his head doubtfully, and
answered:
'He was the devil of a time tracing it out
then.’
Daring this conversation the carriage had
whirled rapidly along and now drove up at Mr.
Ethmer's. The two men alighted and went in'
Sapper was announced almost immediately af
ter their arrival. Much to Colonel Fenton’s
ohagrin,Diana did not make her Appearance ex
cusing herself on account of a head-ache. The
meal being over, he signified to his host his de
sire of setting out immediately for town.
‘Sorry to part with you so soon, sir,’ said Mr.
Ethmer, as Colonel Fenton took his seat in the
buggy to leave. ‘I have more reasons than one
for wishing yonr oompany to-night. That ani
mal will take yon home in half an honr, sir
Good-night.'
His guest had bidden him good evening be
fore he ceased speaking, and his last words and
adien were drowned in the rush of wheels as
the animal, sweating under a blow of the whip,
dashed along the flinty road in darkness.
Upon arriving at the Irving House Colonel
Fenton briefly dismissed his attendant who had
come with him, and entering his room,exclaim
ed, in a low voice with no less of admiration
than excitement:
‘By Heaven ! It's Randal. He has the scent
of a vulture when money is in the wind. Coun
tryman indeed! If that villain doesn’t yet
come to the gallows I am uo judge of men and
human nature !’
Having delivered himself of these sentiments,
he strnok a light, lit a cigar, and threw himself
into a chair. After a whiff or two he threw the
cigar excitedly and nervously from him, and
knitted his dark brows into frowns of porten
tous, undecided signification, as if a tumult of
thoughts and half-formed resolutions worked
within him. What fell deed was ft that oonld
thus stagger his resolution, or make doubtful a
soul that many times before had plnnged reck
lessly and unheeding into every plaoe of vioe?
Watch him as he treads restlessly to and fro in
that lonely chamber, a gentleman by birth but
a villain by profession, hesitating to take one
more step downward than ha had taken yet.
'Tis a dangerous thing to dally with one’s
oinsoience about the doing of a deed to whioh
a sharp necessity urges. So this man found it.
And yet seemed it strange that he who had
hardened himself through long years of stray
ing from the paths of rectitdde and honoV
shnuld struggle so violently against the thought
of robbery. But here such evidently was the
Case,
‘It is all over with me there,’ he said, finally,
as he pointed in the direction of Mr. Ethmer's.
‘1 saw that much the night young Ethmer mar
ried, and something more that I did not care to
see, However I must make one more effort—‘
and he sat down once more in silence; then
suddenly starting up and pacing abont, he con
tinued:
‘No. it will never do. Fate has reserved her
lrown for me until now. Bat this world owes
me a living and shall I not take it whether by
fair means or foul? Providence has thrown
this game into my hands, and why should I
hesitate? Call it what I may—chance, Provi
dence or God, it is nothing bat that same good
luck which has always followed me and always
will follow, if I am wise enough to always avail
myself of it, I have played my game and lost,
and spent until my money is gone, and why not
give up at once whatever faint stragglings of
pride or conscience I may still possess ? But
this step ah, yes, this one step is all that re
mains between me and open, acknowledged
villainy.’
A soft tap at the door caused him to face
abont.
‘Come in,‘ he said, for he knew that tap.
Mr. Randal, disguised as Mr. Ethmer had
seen him. peered cautiously in, and seeing Col
onel Fenton alone, entered, listened intently to
see if any one else was stirring without, and
then closed the door carefully behind him.
‘Well?’ said Colonel Fenton as he signed his
guest to be seated.
•I want yonr help,’ began Mr. Randall hur
riedly.
‘I was well aware of that,’ returned Colonel
Fenton.
Mr. Randall looked disooncerted, but seeing
that his proposition, even if understood by his
companion, was not altogether unwelcome to
him, he quickly recovered himself, and laid
open his design. Their conversation passed al
most in a whisper, Mr. Randall revealed only
that which was either known before by Colonel
Fenton or which he had a pretty accurate notion
of. The latter had expected the visit of the
former and was surprised at nothing which he
heard. Yet he hesitated.
‘What are yon hanging back foi? asked Mr
Randall,
‘I must have time to think about it, Randall,’
was the unsatisfactory and evasive answer.
‘Time?’said Mr. Randall impatiently, ‘every
minute is precious now. You must be very
plentifully supplied with money to be hesitating
so.’
‘On the contrary my stock is almost complete
ly exhausted.’
‘Then why, in the name of high heaven don’t
yon come on—or else we will go on without
yon.’
‘We?’repeated Colonel Fenton. ‘How many
are there of yon?’
‘Only Dogget and I. He is without waiting
for us and has his tools. ‘
An expression of alarm and of disgnst passed
across Colonel Fenton’s features at this revela
tion. ‘I embark in no expedition in whioh
Dogget is engaged,’ he said resolutely. At this
discriminating scrupulosity Mr. Randall ex
pressed his amazement and impatience with an
oath. The two men seemed now to have ex-1
changed characters with each other. Colonel
Fenton, usually bold, aggressive and decided
in whatever he undertook, was now irresolute
and vacillating, while the low-spirited ^ring
ing Mr. Randall seemed fiery and energetic.
‘Yon must go,’ argued the latter; ‘you are the
only one of us who knows the arrangement of
the honBe.’
Colonel Fenton, after a short time, during
which he was constantly urged by his com
panion, and in which he went over again in
mind the objections and the doubts which be
fore had caused him to ponder and^ to hesi
tate, finally and reluctantly consorted.
Mr. Ethmer, that night after the departure
of his guest, as may be readily divined, felt
not at all his usual ease and complaisance. To
say nothing whatever of the dark, suspicions
figures whioh had followed him so closely for
so many miles, the very tact itself, though nn-
dreampt ot by others, of having so large a
sum of money in one’s keeping, is sufficient
to make its owner exceedingly restless and un
easy.
Diara, who, it will be remembered, had not,
from some slight indisposition*, appeared at the
super-table, was surprised, a short time after
the meal waB over, by seeing her father enter
her room in a noiseless nervous manner and
with a countenance indicative of more than or
dinary anxiety.
‘What is it father?’ she asked, knowing from
this departure from his wopted routine no less
than from the disturbed expression on his face
that something was pressing heavily upon him.
‘I would like to exchange rooms with you to
night, Diana,' he said.
‘Yes, sir;’ she answered. At so unexpected a
request she looked as if for some explanation at
him. He seemed to understand her and re
plied :
•Do not ask me why. I will tell you to-mor
row. It would do you no good to know now,
and might cause you much unreasonable dis
quiet, and make yon spend a restless night. I
have a good reason for what I ask. So make
yonr arrangements to take sdlie other room for
to-night—mine if yon preferTt—in fact I would
rather you would take mine—and make no stir
abont it. If yon hear any strange or unusual
noice to-night be sure to wake me as quickly
as possible. %•
Diana signified that sb;, "ould do all that
he had commanded and,L*»ing that he did
not desire to prolong the wonversation, was
retiring when he continned.
‘Do not be alarmed, Diana; I see from yonr
faoe that yon are frightened. There is no cause
for fear.’
She assured him that she would dismiss her
apprehension, and withdrew.
Though the 6un of six days had risen and set
since the first approach of May, yet had it been
a bleak and gusty day, and the wind now blew
fitfully without, and rustled mournfully amid
the few drifted, withered leaves of the late de
parted winter.
After seeing that there was on hand a suf
ficient amount of fnel for the night Mr. Eth
mer took np the day’s’paper, and, with a book
or two beside him, resolved, so great was his
apprehension, to spend the night awake. Hav
ing finished reading the paper, he laid It
down and sat some time in a brown study,
with his hands locked comfortably behind
his head. He then arose, stirred the fire and,
on looking at his watch, fonnd it was near
midnight. Replenishing with fnel the fire
which had already burnt low, ho took np a
book to read, bnt soon pnt it down, for he
was wearied with his long journey. With his
feet to the fire and his head thrown back
ward and resting easily upon a table near by,
he fell into a train of reflection. The thoughts
of an eupeptic man are not usually of a gloomy
character, bat Mr. Etiyner’s. on this night, took
upon them gradually) p serious, sombre oast.
They tended naturany to the events of the
day jnst closed. He tfionght of the strange man
he had seen that evening following him like
some mysteriou shade; he thought of Colonel
Fenton and of the unaccountable look which
the latter had given him when he informed
him of the large sum of money whioh he then
had in his possession.
These two facts ho^rer, soon lost to him
their sinister signifloa^the ajnd he began to
feel as if he 4cas 3oTm^.*i”v«ry foolish thing
in thus robbing himself of a night’s rest after
so long a ride, He was sorry also that he
had not kept his own room, and aotnally felt
some inclination to go there now had it not
been so late,
Bat hark! what was that sound that broke
so alarmly through the stillness? Was it hu
man or only the night wind’s wail dying away
like that of some desolate spirit, solemnly in
the distanoe? Mr. Ethmer sat up in his chair
and listened. Suspicion of the fearful looking
being who had dogged him '.arose again in
his mind.
‘It was an oversight in me,’ ho muttered to
himself, ‘that I did not prevail on Colonel
Fenton to spend the night with me—or some
one else whom I could trust.’
But that which afforded him some slight
consolation was the thought that, if any
one had designs upon him, they would
not find him in his usual room. Then
burst the fact upon him that a burglar, enter
ing the room which he ordinarily occupied,
would find, not the money which hb then had
safely in his pocket, but his only child. Here
indeed was a dilemma v/hich he had in no wise
foreseen. Bnt as it might seem foolish in him
to awake her at this hour of the night, he mere
ly opened his own door in order that he might
hear any noise in the hall which lay between
the apartment in which he then was and the
the one which Diana occupied. Having done
this he resumed his position, first blowing out
the lamp in order not to attract the attention of
passers by, and, as the table upon which rested
his head, grew hard, he placed beneath the lat
ter a pillow, for the sake of comfort. Thus
pleasantly situated, he dreamily and for some
time watched the flickering firelight dance upon
the papered walls and on the ceiling. Strange
figures then the shadows of all things took, and
grew gradually more dim and more gigantic.
Some pleasing fancies passed for a moment in
Mr. Ethmer’s mind and then—wearied by £his
long vigil he slept soundly on till dawn.
He had been asleep but a few minutes when
the door of the hall was opened softly, and the
figures of three men stealthily entered. Per
ceiving by the dim light of the fire whioh still
burned faintly on the hearth, that his door was
ajar as he had left it. one of them advanced, and
on suddenly beholding theold gentleman, seem
ed transfixed with terror, deeming him some
one who had set np to watch for them. Seeing
however, that the supposed watcher stirred not,
the foremost figure beckoned to the other two,
and the trio entered the room.
As they did so the faint light flickered up
for an instant and showed unmistakably the
tall, angular form of Randall, that of a strange
man, presumably Dogget, and alas! that of
the trusted Colonel Fenton. The first men
tioned and the last immediately began an
active, noiseless search about the apartment,
while the second stood directly behind the
unconscious form of Mr. Ethmer, with a short,
stont, upraised club in his hand, concealed
until now by being placed under bis coat, ready
at the least sign of awakening to render the
old gentleman senseless by a blow npon the
head.
‘Fool!’ said Colonel 'Fenton in a fierce whis
per siezing the club as he spoke. ‘What do
yon mean ?’ Mr. Dogget sullenly and silently
relinquished his hold upon his weapon, but
with an air which seemed to say that he yielded
only from the urgenoy and critical importance
of avoiding anything like disturbance.
‘We have made a mistake,' continued Colonei
Fenton in a cautions whisper,’ at least, I do not
think this is the right room. Randal, yon stay
in here Dogget and I will try the other room.
In the mean time, Diana, attended by he?
maid, a pleasant featured mulatto girl, had gone
to her father's room, and retired tor the night.
Bnt Mr. Ethmer’s strange words and stran
ger oonduct had so wrought npon her imagina
tion that, until some time near the hour of mid
night, she could not sleep. Even then her
slumber was not sound bnt was rather a som
nolent restlessness, from which, from time to
time, she started fearfully as the storm gusts
rattled the window-blinds, or a trailing bongh,
swayed by the passing breeze swept with ghost
like sound across the roof or walks without. It
was in snoh a state as this, while she was so
near awake as to be oonscious of every sound
that arose about the house, she fancied she
heard the stealthy footfall of some person out
side of her room in the hall—a faint, muffled
footfall which would never have been recognized
as such, bnt for the suggestion of her imagina
tion. Uncertain, and not fully aroused, she
listened eagerly, while a feeling of sickly fear
came over her ; and now she thought she heard
the bolt turn softly in her door. She raised
herself in the bed and gazed fearfully in the
direction whence the sound proceeded, the
noise which she made in doing so oansing her
to start as if she saw some midnight prowler in
the thick darkness aronnd. For half an hour,
in terrible suspense, she watohed and listened,
and theD, hearing no repetition of the noise
which had startled her, she sank baok upon her
pillow, and gradually dropped off into a gentle
slumber. She had been asleep but a few min
utes when a little piece of white cloth, like a
handkerchief, was thrust slowly under the bot
tom of her door directly under the belt. The
key, whioh after locking the room, she had left
in the door, was turned by some mysterious
foroe without, and fell with a little muffled
sound upon the piece of doth within. A sound,
as if some one Were inserting another into the
locks, might then have been heard. In another
instant the door swung noiselessly ajar, and
Colonel Fenton peered cautiously into the
apartment and listened. All was still ; nothing
was heard save the soft regular breathing of the
fair sleeper, by whioh, as the intrnder entered,he
was guided to the bed-side of Diana. He now
held a handkerchief saturated with some pow
erful soporific as near as he conld guess to her
face, so that she might inhale it and sleep the
sounder. He did not yet know where she was.
He now raised a dark lantern which he carried
in his other hand, and, arranging it so that it
threw out a stream of light, examined the apart
ment. As the slender gleam fell upon the
calmly beautiful features of Diana in their pro
found repose, he stood as if suddenly trans
fixed, while an expression as of some painful
emotion passed aoross his now plainly visible
features. He made a step toward her, and
gazed earnestly at her. The fair sleeper lay
with the rich masses of sunny hair nestled in
maddening beauty npon her pillow, while a
slight disarrangement of the coverlet displayed
to the fierce, eager gaze of the beholder, a por
tion of her well-tnrned neck and shoulder,
white as the snowy drapery around her. Thus
looking down npon so much nnconscions inno
cence and beanty, there oame into the face of
the hold, hardened man a softening ohange,— a
look of regret which long had been a stranger to
his features. A few moments he feasted nis
eyes npon the sight, and then, overoome by the
force of those feelings which had been recently
implanted in bis heart by a sentiment which
was the nearest approach to love he had ever
known, silently, hurriedly and without a word
of explanation to his companions, he darted
from the room, and left the place.
Meanwhile the wretoh Dogget. by whose skil-
ful hands the door of Diana's apartment had
been opened, unable to overcome his fear that
in case, Mr. Randal, who was still in Mr. Eth
mer’s room, should find the money he would
conceal the faot, »had remained in the hall in
order to keep a strict watch over him. Seeing
Colonel Fenton rash so quickly out of the house,
and, imagining consequently that they had been
discovered, he gave the signal ‘ of alarm to Mr.
Randal, and the two darted through the hall
also left the house in greatest haste, leaving all
the doors open behind them. Colonel Fenton
no where to be seen, and without waiting to
seek him they rapidly disappeared in the dark
ness.
CHAPTER XVII.
Since the events which are recorded in the pro
ceeding chapter, took place, time had flown by
on swiftest wing, and the month of sunny May
had come with the gladdening song of return
ing birds, and trees that took on the vernal hue
of green and tender foliage.
It was a day of fairest promise at Mr. Ethmer’s
and a little party had gathered there to eDjoy
the woods, wild flowers and scented breath of
spring. Eryc, since the night on which Diana j aotTon as'hlmself.
had so abruptly thrust him away from her, had
not dared to see her, though ever within an
hour's easy ride of her, for the bitterness with
which he regarded her unexpected conduct as
an assertion that she did not love him, rankled
too deeply and painfully in his soul. For, be
holding her would only serve to enhance the
value of that which he felt that he had lo3t, and
impress more ineffaceably, if possible, upon him
the beanty and loveliness of one whose path ev-
ever afterwards must lie apart from his.
With such thoaghts and arguments as these he
had persuaded himself, at least for a short
time—until now—that it was better for him
never to see her again, since to do so would on-
piercing through the thin stratum of soil, rest
ed upon a substratum of rock, which here and
there in large surfaces of half an acre more or
less in extent rose gently and shelvingly from
the earth.
Scattered around irregularly,and interspersed
by small and stunted elms and thickets of
tangled hawthorne, were immense, square-cut
blocks of bnrnt and blackened stone, showing
where in* the mysterious convulsions of the past
volcanic fires had wrought. Upon the bare sur
faces of rock, and encroaching year by year on
their decreasing areas, were large patches of
heavy, luxuriant moss, making a bed of down
for the happy lounger, save where the prickly
pea thrust up its long and trenchant spires,
Through the middle of the glade which was of
considerable extent, flowed a little purling
brook, whioh, rippling year after year over the
solid rock, wore out tor itself a tortuous chan
nel through which its clear waters raved and
fretted along down the gentle slope to join those
of a larger stream below.
In this delicious and obscure retreat they pro
posed to spend the evening quietly. How well
they succeeded remains yet to be seen. Mr.
Glenvil'e bad not yet arrived. Corinne sat with
moody reserve amid the joyons faces aronnd
her, or wandered disconsolately occasionally by
the side of the brook. The attention of the lit
tle party was at one time directed to Colonel
Fenton who was riding alone down the glade to
ward them. He had not been with them in the
forenoon, and his approach so late in the day
drew forth some careless, good-natured banter
from them. To this, when he had come np,
he made no return, but dismounting, sainted
them with more than usual gravity and took his
place among them. There was something on
his faoe to-day which, if it was not melancholy,
at least looked like sullen gloom. He spoke but
little, and that only with an effort. This moody,
desperate man—what right or place had he in
that assemblage ?
Mr. Glenville, who had been looked for some
time in vain, now made his appearance. He al
so rode on horse-back and oame rapidly toward
them. He pleasantly bade them good-evening,
and in reply as to why he was so late in arriv
ing, he replied that he had had some unexpect
ed bnsiness to attend to. As he said this he
glanced without design toward Colonel Fenton,
and caught the eye of the latter fixed upon him.
But it was only for a fraction of a second and
then they both looked some other way. In the
course of his life Mr. Glenville’s eyes had thus
casually met those of another many a time and
he had thought no more abont it. This time,
however, without having any peculiar reason,
he was troubled. Color!el Fenton also was
moved. He arose and stood leaning against a
tree a little apart trom the others. He seemed
on the point of leaving when the attention of
all was again attracted by the approach of a
horseman who came dashing at a mad gallop
down the banks of the little stream, brushing
aside and breaking in his blind haste, the scanty
boughs of elm which occasionally obstructed his
course. Mr. Glenville had taken Corinne aside,
but when he saw the new-comer he left her for
a moment and came forward. The strange
horseman npon whom now all eyes were fixed,
did not stop nor slacken in his speed as he came
near them, but passing swiftly by the side of
Colonel Fenton, who seemed instinctively to di
vine his intentions, he said hurriedly:
‘Fly!’
It was Mr. Randal.
At the same time several other men, mounted
and bearing rapidly down the glade behind
him, appeared. For an instant Colonel Fen
ton stood irresolute. Then, springing forward
with flashing eyes like some beast of prey, he
drew from his bosom the weapon which he al
ways carried concealed there, and, placing it
w ithin a fewqncbes of Mr. Glenville's side, who
scarcely had time to turn, so fiercs^ajnd sudden
was the action, he hissed througn his firmly
clenched teetn:
‘This is your work!' and discharged the piece.
The ball pierced the unhappy man’s heart,
and he sank without a groan to the earth—dead.
While all around stood motionless, smitten
dumb by the ferocity and suddenness of the
deed, Eryc alone retained his presence of mind
and comprehended, at a glance, the trae situa
tion of affairs. Ere Colonel Fenton, with his
pistol still in his hand, had time to turn for
flight, he bounded npon him. The latter saw
his intention and was on his guard. Eryc,
reckless ofthe disadvantage of his position,
threw himself upon him.
He had had some faint Lope of grappling with
him before he could bring his weapon to bear
on him, but he had to deal with a man as quick
Waiting until his antag
onist had even laid his hand upon his left arm,
which was turned slightly toward him, Colonel
Fenton, with a sudden dextrous movement
thrust the muzzle of his pistol against Eryc's
side, and again fired. The latter staggered,
rather than fell, to the earth.
With a bound Colonel Fenton placed himself
upon Mr. Glenville’s horse, which stood near
by, and darted along the downward course of
the brooklet with the speed of an arrow, while
the strange horsemen, his pursuers, now thun
dered scarce half a dozen rods behind him. In
delivering his message, Mr. Randall had not
stopped and was now out of sight.
, . .....* ... ,. . , . All then began to comprehend the tragic scene
I that had been enacted before them, and Diana,
~ " w ho before, had hidden under a veil of indif
ference and reserve the trae state of her feelings
toward Eryc, now, as she saw him fall to the
earth, sprang forward to him with a low cry of
grief and terror, and lifted his head to her lap
murmuring his name in a voice so full of dis
tress and entreaty that it seemed to call back to
life again his pulseless form. He opened bis
eyes immediately and for a moment gazed at
her vacantly.
Then, as the truth flashed upon him, the
sluggish blood bounded joyously in his veins
once more and he arose to his feet, though his
happiness soon vanished at the prospect of im
mediate death; for, from the direction which he
judged the bullet which had struck him had
taken, and from the force with which it knocked
him to the earth, he concluded he must be mor
tally wounded. But, as he did not bleed he
began to examine his wound, and found that
the ball had embedded itself in a thick note
book which he usually carried, penetrating
through both corners bnt not entering his flesh.
All now crowded around the unfortunate Geof
frey Glenville, and some endeavored to keep
from Corinne, at least for a while, the knowl
edge of what had taken place, fearing its effect
upon her delicate system.
They knew that, in spite of her waywardness
and the deep selfishness of her nature, she
still possessed some sparks of trae feeling, and
loved devotedly the man who, now growing
rigid in death, lay on the fresh green turf of
the brook's side. But she looked through them
and running to where reclined the inanima'e
form of what a few short seconds ago, she had
fondly deemed her lover, she gazed speechless
ly for a moment npon it, and then, with a cry
cf despair, fell heavily forward upon the corpse,
herself as devoid of thought or feeling.
She was taken np and borne to Mr. Eth
mer's, and placed npon a bed which she was
destined never tc leave, save for the lowness
and narrowness of the grave. The blow which
had severed from her her only hope of happi
ness, severed her hold upon life itself.
Recovered from her insensible state, she re
quested that the dead body of Mr. Glenville
might be brought to her bedside. This being
at first refused on acoonnt of the effect it would
(Continued on 3rd page)
He yielded however to the urgent solicitations
of Henry Stacy, who had come for Corinne in
obedienoe to his promise to Mr. Glenville to see
that she should be at Mr. Ethmer's upon the
present occasion. Eryc's consent was given
with reluctance, bnt why, when it was given,
did his heart bound so wildly in his bosom ?
Perhaps beyond the mere satisfaction of yield
ing to the entreaties of a friend, some other
cause unknown even to himself, or unnoted
amid the whirl of conflicting thoughts which a
ready anticipation had brought about, had
weight in inducing him to go. Perhaps down
in the innermost recesses of bis soul, into which
he had not probed, a little germ of hope, brais
ed but not destroyed, still lingered.
However trae may this have been, it was only
when he had consented that his heart felt light
er, and he then began to doubt if after all he
should have taken so seriously an act which
might have been the result of mere fright on
on the part of Diana; for he knew her too well
to imagine that she wonld exhibit anght of ca
price in the matter. When he met her at Mr.
Ethmer's she coldly gave him her hand though
he it thought trembled during the short time it
rested in his own. Bnt she betrayed no emo
tion, did not raise her eves to his face, and sel
dom that morning spoke to him or glanced to
ward him.
It was arranged that the crowd should take
dinner at Mr. Ethmer's and in the afternoon
proceed on foot to the place of rendezvous which
was only a short distance away and not easily
accessible by vehicles.
In setting'out, Eryc thought that Diana made
it convenient to be near Stacy in order to have
him offer her his arm. The act strnck him like
a blow, Not because he had any jealous twinges
of Stacy, but because he took it a direct expres
sion on her part of a desire not to be with him
self, and with the bitterness of despair in his
heart, he determined to Bee her once more alone
that day and have an explanation in spite of
her efforts to avoid him. There was in his feel
ings nothing of anger, nor scarcely anght of
pride. The latter had not yet come to his res
cue.
Abont the distance of half a mile, approached
by aD old neglected road now bare of all signs
of travel, was an open glade, covered with a
thick coating of fresh, young grass whose roots,
INSTINCT PRINT