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UNDER TWO
CHAPTER XVIII.
i his hand for them.
| Coe;] closed his hand upon them.
! “Co and do as 1 bid you.”
OTV that night was spent Cecil : The equerry paused, doubtful whetb-
could never recall in full. I cr 01 . no t to resist the tone and the
Vague memories remained with ; words. A Frenchman’s respect for the j
liim of wandering over the j nVPrnry uniform prevailed. He went j
shadowy country, cf seeking by bodily ( within.
fatigue to kill the thoughts rising in j 7,, l.c-t chamber cf the cavavsn-
liim. The full consciousness of all ; sar y Venetia Corona was sitting, list-
that he had surrendered in yielding lip
afresh his heritage rolled in on his
memory like the wave of some heavy
pea that sweeps down all before it. He
moved slowly back over the desolate-
tracks of land stretched between him
and the Algerian halting place. He
had no fear that he would find his
brother there. He knew too well the
nature with which he had to deal.
While yet the caravansary was distant
the piteous cries of a mother goat
ieaught his ear. She was bleating be
side a water course, into wlvTv, her kid
of that spring had fallen. lie stooped
and with some little difficulty rescued
the little goat for its delighted dam.
As he bent over the water he saw
something glitter beneath it. He caught
it in Ills hand and brought it up. It
was the broken half of a chain cf gold,
with a jewel in each link. lie changed
color as he saw it. He remembered it
as one that Venetia Corona had worn
on the morning that he had been ad
mitted to her. He stood looking at the
shining links, with their flashes or pre
cious stones. They seemed to have
voices that spoke to him of her about
whose beautiful white throat they had
been woven—voices that whispered in
cessantly in his car, “Take up your
birthright, and you will be free to sue
lo her at least, if not to win her.” No
golden and jeweled plaything ever
tempted a starving man to theft as this
tempted him now to break the pledge
he had just given.
His birthright! lie longed for it for
this woman’s sake—for the sake, at
least, of the right to stand before her
as an equal and to risk bis chance with
others who sought her smile—as he
had never done for any ether thing
which, with that heritage, would have
become bis. Yet he know that, even
were he to be false to his word and go
forward and claim his right, he would
never be able to prove his innocence.
He could never hope to make the
world believe him unless the real crim
inal made that confession which he
held himself forbidden by his own past
action ever to extort.
It. was almost noon when, under the
sun scorched branches of the pine that
stretched its somber fans up against
the glittering azure of the morning
skies, he approached the gates of the
Algerine house of call, a study for the
colors of Gerome, with the pearly gray
of its stone tints and the pigeons
wheeling above its corner towers.
Cecil went within and bathed and
dressed and drank some of the thin,
cool wine that found its way hither in
the wake of the French army. The
trampling of horses on the pavement
below roused his attention. A thrill
of hope went through him that his
brother might have lingering con
science. latent love enough to have
made him refuse to obey the bidding
to leave Africa. He rose aud leaned
out. Amid the little throng cf riding
horses, grooms and attendants who
made an open way through the poly
glot crowd of an Algerian caravan
sary at noon he saw the one dazzling
face of which he had so lately dream
ed by the water freshet iu the plains.
It was but a moment’s glance, for she
had already dismounted from her mare
and was passing within with two
other ladies of her party. But in that
one glance he knew her. He went
down into the coui’t below and found
her suit.
“Teii your mistress' that I, Louis
Victor, have some jewels which belong
to her and ask her permission to re
store them to her hands,” he said to
one of her equerries.
“Give them to mo if you have picked
them up,” said the man. nutting - out
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less in the heat, when her attendant
entered. She had heard the day be
fore a story that had touched her of a
soldier who had been slain crossing the
plains and had been brought through
the hurricane and the sandstorm at
every risk by his comrade, who had
chosen to endure all peril and wretch
edness rather than leave the dead body
to the vultures and the kites. It was a
nameless story to her—the story of two
obscure troopers, who, for aught she
knew, might have been two of the riot
ous and savage brigands that were
common to the army of Africa. But
the loyalty and the love shewn in it
had moved her. When her servant ap
proached her now with Cecil’s mes
sage, she hesitated some few moments,
then gave the required permission. “He
has once been a gentleman. It would
he cruel to wound him,” thought the
imperial beauty, who would have re
fused a prince or neglected a duke with
chill indifference. He bowed very low
that he might got his calmness back
before he looked at her, and her voice
in its lingering music came on his ear.
“You have found my chain, I think?
I lost it in riding yesterday. I am
greatly indebted to you for taking care
of it.”
“It is I, madame, who am the debtor
of so happy an incident.”
His words were very low, and his
voice shock a little over them. He was
thinking not of the jeweled toy that lie
came here to restore, but cf the in
heritance which had passed away from
him forever and which, possessed,
would have given him the title to seek
what his own efforts could do to wake
a look of tenderness in those proud
eyes.
“Your chain is here, madame, though
broken, I regret to see,” he continued
as he took the little box from bis coat
and banded it to her. She took it and
thanked him without for the moment
opening the enamel case as she mo
tioned him to a seat at a little distance
from her own.
“You have been in terrible scenes
since I saw you last.” she continued.
“The s+ory of Zaraila reached us. Sure
ly they cannot reruse you the reward
of your service now?”
A very weary smile passed over his
face.
“I have no ambition, madame, or if 1
have it is not a pair of epaulets that
will content it.”
She understood him. She compre
hended the bitter mockery that the
tawdry, meterieious rewards of regi
mental decoration seemed to the man
who had waited to die at Zaraila as
patiently and as grandly as the Okl
Guard at Waterloo.
“I understand. The rewards are piti
fully disproportionate to the services in
any army. Yet how magnificently you
and your men, as I have been told, bold
your ground all through that fearful
day!”
“We did our duty, nothing more. We
are called human machines. We are
so, since we move by no will of our
own. But the lowest among us will at
times ho propelled by one single im
pulse—a desire to die greatly. It is all
that is left to most of us to do.”
“Yes,” she said thoughtfully, while
over the brilliancy of lier face there
passed a shadow. “There must be iu-
“You have found my chain, I think?”
finite nobility among these men who
live without hope—live only to die.
That soldier a day cr two ago who
brought Ins dead comrade through the
hurricane, risking bis own death rath
er than leave the body to the carrion
birds—you have heard of him? Wiiat
tenderness, what greatness, there must
have been in that poor fellow’s heart!”
“Oh. no! That was nothing!”
“Nothing! They have told me he
came every inch of the way iu danger
of the Arabs’ shot and steel. He had
suffered so much to bring the body
safe across the plains lie fell down in
sensible on his entrance here.”
“You set too much store on it. 1
owetl him a debt far greater than any
act like that could ever repay.”
“You! Was it you?”
“Yes. madame. He who perished had
a thousandfold more of such nobility
as you have praised than I.”
“Ah! Tell me of him,” she said sim
ply. Bur he saw that the lustrous pvm
P. T. Thomas, SumiervilJe, Ala ,“1
wa3 suffering from dyspepsia when
I Jco mine need taking Ko-iol Dyspep
aia Cure. I took several bottles and
can digest anything ” Kodol Dys
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tire rest, restoring their natural
condition, h. b jicMaster.
bent on him had a grave, sweet sad- j
ness in them that was more precious ;
aud more pitiful than a million litter- j
aiices of regret could ever have been. ;
As lie obeyed ber hands toyed with the j
enamel bonbonniere, whose silver had ■
lost all its bright enameling and was i
dented and dulled till it looked no more
than lead. The lid came off at her 1
touch as she musingly moved it round i
and round. The chain and the ring fell !
into her lap: the lid remained in her
hand, its interior nnspoiied and stud
ded in its center with one name in
turquoise 1 e 11 o rs— Venetia.
She started as the letters caught her '
eye aud turned her head and gazed at
her companion.
“How did you obtain this?”
“The chain, madame? It had fallen
in the water.”
“The chain! No, the box!”
He looked at her in surprise.
“It was given me very long ago.”
“And by whom?”
“By a young child, madame.”
Her lips-parted slightly. The flush on
her cheeks deepened. The beautiful
face which the Roman sculptor had
said only wanted tenderness to make it
perfect changed, moved, was quickened
with a thousand shadows of thought.
“The box is mine! 1 gave it! Aud
you ?”
He rose to his feet and stood entranc
ed before her. breathless and mute.
“And you?' she repeated.
Ho was silent still, gazing at her. He
knew her now. How had he been so
blind as never to guess the truth be
fore, as never to know that those im
perial eyes and that diadem of golden
hair could belong aloue but to the wo
men of one race?
“And you?" sbe cried once more, while
she stretched her hands out to him.
“And you — you are Philip’s friend!
You are Bertie Cecil!”
Silently he bowed his head. Not even
for his brother’s sake or for sake of his
pledged word could he have lied to her.
But her outstretched hands he would
not sec, he would not take. The shad
ow of an imputed crime was stretched
between them.
“Little queen!” he murmured. It was
his pet name for her when she was a
child. “Ah. God! How could I be so
blind?”
She grew very pale as she sank back
again upon the couch from which she
had risen. It seemed to her as though
a thousand years had drifted by since
she had stood beside this man under
the summer leaves of the Stephanien
and he had kissed her childish lips; and
thanked her.for her loving gift. And
uow they had met thus!
“They thought that you were dead,
she said at length, while her voice sank
very low. “Why have you lived like
this?”
He made no answer.
“It was cruel to Philip.” she went on,
while her voice still shook. “Child
though I was, I remember His passion
of grief when the news came that you
had lost your life. He Las never for
gotten you. So often now he will still
speak of you! lie is in your camp.
We are traveling together. lie will 'do
here this evening. What delight it will
give him to know his dearest friend is
living! But why—why have you kept
him ignorant if you were lost to all the
world beside?”
Still he answered her nothing. The
truth he eoukl not tell, the lie he would
not. She paused, waiting reply. Re
ceiving - none, she spoke once more, her
words full of that exquisite softness:
“Mr. Cecil, I divined rightly. I felt
that in ail things save in some acci
dent of position we were equals. But
why have you condemned yourself to
this misery? Your life is brave, is no
ble, hut it must be a constant torture
to such as you.”
“Leave my life alone, for God’s
sake!” be said passionately. “Tell me
of your own—tell me, above all. of bis.
He loved ine, you say? Oh, heaven, he
did, better than any creature that ever
breathed save the mau whose grave
lies yonder!”
“He does so still,” she answered ea
gerly. “Philip's is not a heart that for
gets. It is a heart of gold, and the
name of his earliest friend is graven on
it as deeply now as ever. lie thinks
you dead. Tonight will be the happiest
hour he has ever known when he shall
meet you here.
“Why do von not answer me?” she
pursued, while she leaned nearer with
wonder ami doubt and a certain awak
ening dread shadowing the blue luster
of her eyes, that were bent so thought
fully, so searcliingly upon him. “Is it
possible that you have heard of your
inheritance, of your title and estates,
and that you voluntarily remain a sol
dier here? Lord Royallieu must yield
them in the instant you prove your
identity, and in that there eoukl he no
difficulty. I remember you well now.
and Philip. I am eerlaiu, will only need
to see you once to”—
“Hush, for pity’s sake! nave you
never heard—has none ever told you”—
“What?”
He turned from her so that she could
not see his face.
“That, when I became dead to the
world. I died with the taint of crime
on me!”
“Of crime?”
“I was accused of having forged
your brother’s name.”
A faint cry escaped her. Her lips
grew white, and her eyes darkened
and dilated.
“Accused! But wrongfully?”
His breath came aud went in quick,
sharp spasms.
“I could not prove that.”
“Not prove it? Why?”
“1 could not.”
“But lie-Philip—never believed you
guilty?"
“1 cannot tell. He may. He must.”
“But you are not!”
It was not an interrogation, but an
affirmation that rang out in the silver
clearness of her voice.
“You are guiltless, whatever circum
stance may have arrayed against you,
whatever shadow of evil may have
fallen falsely on you. Is it not so?”
His head bowed low over her bands
as he took them. Iu that moment half
the bitterness of bis doom passed from
him. He had at least her faith. He
lifted his head and looked her full in
the eyes. Her own closed involun
tarily and filled with tears. She felt
that the despair aud the patience of
that look would haunt her until her
dying day.
‘I was guiltless, nut none cuu:u
credit it then, none would do so now.
Nor can 1 seek to make them. Ask me
no more. Give me your belief if you
can. God knows what precious mercy
it is to me. but leave me to fulfil! my
fate and tell no living creature what 1
have told you now.”
The great tears stood in her eyes and
blinded her as she heard.
“Tell no one!” she echoed. “What!
Not Philip even—uot yeuroklest friend?
Ah. be sure, whatever the evidence
might be against you. his heart never
condemned yon for one instant.”
“1 believe it. Yet all'ycu can do for
me. all ! implore you to do for me, is to
keep silence forever on my name. To
day accident lias made me break
vow 1 never thought but to keep
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“Lord Royallieu, why look, at me so?”
cred. When you recognized me, 1 eoukl
uot deny myself, 1 could uot lie to you.
But for God’s sake tell none of what
has passed between us!”
“But w hy?” sbe pursued. “Why? You
lie under this charge still—you cannot
disprove it. you say. But why not
come out before the world and state to
all what you swear now to me and
claim your right to bear your father’s
honors? if you were falsely accused,
there must have been some one guilty
In your stead, and if”—
“Cease, for pity’s sake! Forget
ever told you I was guiltless; blot my
memory -jilt; think of me as dead, as i
have been. I was innocent. But in
honor I must bear the yoke that I took
on me long ago; in honor 1 can never
give you or any living soul the proof
that this crime was not mine. 1 thought
that I should go to my grave without
any ever hearing of the years that I
have passed in Africa, without any
ever learning the name I used to bear.
As it is, ail I can ask is now—to bo for
gotten.”
“You ask what will not be mine to
give,” she answered him, while a great
weariness, stole through her own
words, for she was bewildered and
pained and oppressed with a new,
strange sense of helplessness before
this man’s nameless suffering. “Re
member, I knew - you so well ir: my
earliest years, aud you are so dear to
the one dearest to me. It will not be
possible to forget such a meeting as
this. Silence, of course, you can com
mand from me if you insist on it.
but”—
“I command nothing from you, but 1
implore it. It is the soie mercy you
can show. Never, for God’s sake,
speak cf me to your brother or to
mine.”
“But why? If al! this could be clear-
ed”-
“It never can be.”
Tiie baffled sense of impotence
against the granite wall of some im
movable calamity which she had felt
before came on her.
“Lord Royallieu,” she said softly at
length, while she rose and moved to
ward him. “Why look at me so?” she
pursued ere he eoukl speak. “Act Low
you will, you cannot change the fact
that you are the bearer of your fa
ther's title. So long as you live your
brother Berkeley can never take it
legally. You may be a chasseur of the
African army, but none the less are
you a peer of England.”
“What matters that?” he muttered.
“Why tell lue that? 1 have said 1 am
dead. Leave me buried here and let
him enjoy what he may, what he can.”
“But this is folly, madness”—
“No; it is neither. I have told you
I should stand as a felon in the eyes
cf the English law. I should have no
civil rights. The greatest mercy fate
can show me is to let me remain for
gotten here. It will not be long, most
likely, before I am thrust into the Af
rican sand to rot like that brave soul
out yonder. Berkeley will be the law
ful holder of the title then. Leave him
in peace and possession now.”
She stood close beside him and gazed
once more full in his eyes, while the
sweet, imperious cadence of her voice
answered him;
“There is more than I know cf here.
Either you are the greatest madman
or the most generous man that ever
lived. You choose to guard your own
secret. I will not seek to persuade it
from you. But tell me one thing—why
do you thus abjure your rights, permit
a false charge to rest on you and con
sign yourself forever to this cruel ag
ony?”
His lips shook under liis beard as he
answered her:
“Because i can do no less in honor.
For God’s sake, do not you tempt me!”
A quick, deep sigh escaped her as
she heard, her face grew - very pale, as
it had done before, and she moved
slightly from him.
“Forgive me,” she said after a long
pause. “I wall never ask you that
again.”
Heavy as had been the curse to him
of that one hour in which honor had
forbade him to compromise a woman's
reputation and old tenderness had for
bade him to betray a brother’s sin, he
had never paid so heavy a price for his
act as that w hich.he paid now.
Through the yellow sunlight without,
over the barren dust strewn plains, in
the distance there approached three rid
ers. accompanied by a small escort of
spaliis. Sbe started and turned to him:
“It is Philip! He is coming for me
from your camp today.”
His eyes strained through the sun
glare.
“Ah, God! I cannot meet him. I
have not strength. You do not know”—
“I know how - well he loved you.”
“Not better than I him! But I can
not, I dare uot. Unless I could meet
him as we never shall meet unon earth
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we must tte apart forever. For heav
en’s sake promise me never to speak
my name!"
“I promise until you release mo.”
“Aud you can believe me innocent
still in face of all?”
Sbe stretched ber bands to him once
more. "1 believe, for I know - what you
once were.”
Great burning tears fell from his
eyes upon bar hands as he bent over
them:
“God bless yon! You were an angei
of pity to me iu your childhood. In
your womanhood you give me the ouly
mercy I have known since the last day
you looked upou my face! We &ball be
far sundered forever. May I come lo
you once more?”
She paused iu hesitation and in
thought awhile, while for the first time
in ail ber years a tremulous tenderness
passed over ber face. Sbe felt an un
utterable pity for this man and for his
doom. Then she drew 7 her hands gently
away from him:
“Yes. ! will see you again.”
So much concession to such a prayer
Venetia Corona had never before given.
He could uot command his voice to
answer, but he bowed low before her
as before an empress. Another mo
ment and she was alone.
“Is he a madman?” she mused. “If
uot. lie is a martyr, one cf the greatest
that ever suffered unknown to other
men.”
In the coolness of the late evening in
the ecurt of the caravansary her broth
er and ids friends lounged with her
and the two ladies of their touring and
sketching party, while they drank their
sherbet and talked of the Gerome col-
ers of the place and watched the flame
if the afterglow burn out and threw
millet to the doves and pigeons stray
ing at their feet.
“My dear Venetia,” cried the Seraph
carelessly, tossing handfuls of grain
to tiie eager birds, “I inquired for your
sculptor chasseur—that fellow Victor—
but I failed to see him. for he had been
sent on an expedition shortly after 1
reached the camp. They tell me he is
fine soldier. But by what the mar
quis said I fear lie is but a handsome
blackguard, and Africa, after all, may
be his fittest place. There is a charm
ing little creature there, a little fire
eater—Cigarette they call her—who is
in love with him. I fancy. Such a pic
turesque child! Swears like a trooper,
too,” continued I10 who was now 7 Duke
of Lyonnesse. “By the way, is Berke
ley gone?”
“Left yesterday.”
“What for? Where to?”
“I was not interested to inquire.”
Her brother looked at her earnestly.
There was a care upon her face new
to him.
“Are you well, my darling?” he ask
ed her. “Has the sun been too hot for
you ?”
She rose and gathered her cashmeres
about her and smiled somewhat weari
ly her adieu to him.
“Both perhaps. I am tired. Good
night-”
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had 15 years experience.
BUXTON & HAESELER,
GIRARD, GEORGIA.
HELLO!
Who is That ? “No. 73, The Waynes
boro Pressing Ciub !” M. BUXTON.
Proprietor. Clothes cleaned, Pressed and Repaired for §1-00
per month. Gent s buits aud Pants made to measure from $2.50
io $10. Suits from $10 to $35. Ladies’ cleaning aud dyeieg -1
specialty. Work calied for and delivered. All work guaranteed
to fit.
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