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THE BAPTIST BANNER.
BY JAS. N. ELLS & CO.
VOL. IV.
She baptist fanner,
DEVOTED TO RELIGION AND LITERATURE,
I* published every Saturday, at Atlanta, Georgia, at the
subscription price of three dollars per year.
JAMES N. ELLS A CO.,
Proprietors.
AT THE LAST?”
"Man goeth forth unto his work and to his labor until I
evening."—civ : 2;?.
The stream is calmest when it nears the tide,
The flowers are sweetest at eventide,
And birds most musical at close of day,
And stints divinest when they pass away.
Morning is lovely, but a holier eharm
Lies folded close in evening’s robes of balm;
And weary man must ever love her best,
For Morning calls to toil, but Night to rest.
She comes from Heaven, and on her wings doth bear
A holy fragrance, like the breath of prayer;
Footsteps of angels follow in her trace,
To shut the weary eyes of Day in peace.
All tilings are hushed before her, as she throws
O'er earth and sky her mantle of repose ;
There is a calm, a beauty, and a power
That morning knows not, in the evening hour.
“ Until the evening” we must weep and toil.
Plough life’s stern furrows, dig the weedy soil,
bread with sad feet our rough and thorny way,
And bear the heat and burden of the day.
Oh! when our un is setting, may we glide,
Like summer evening, down the golden tide;
And leave behind ns, as we pass away,
Sweet starry.twilight round our sleeping eJay. r
[From Chambers’Journal.]
OUR COUSIN ALICE.
I HAD certainly not recovered front the]
effects oi the severe wounds received in
the battles fought between Cawnpore and
Luckn <w, when I met again, after four years
of separation, my cousin Alice. My brain
must have been less steady than usual ; and
it was perhaps a little turned by my being
regarded as the hero ,of the little world,
formed by the country families and early
triends, who met to congratulate me on my
return to England from the seat of war in
the East. 1 ought to have had a mother to
nurse me, but I had none. I was an orphan. ,
let it was to the house, which, in my fath
er’s lifetime, had bel-n my home, that I came i
back. *
'There whs the great down, wooded near
ly to the summit, which I remembered so
well, where the coursing meetings used to
be held. I could scarcely believe, as 1 en- !
tered the drawing-room before dinner, that
the same party which had so often assem
bled for the great gatherings on Marley
Down, were not drawn to the place now for
the same purpose. But other customs pre
vailed. My young cousin, Sir Reginald
Moore, was no sportsman. The sleek grey
hounds had ail disappeared; I missed them
sorely. The old squire—rny grandfather
—had been dead more than a twelvemonth.
His youngest and favorite son —my own
parent —had gone before him to the grave.
Our present host, the representative of the
family, was a fair, pensive-looking youth of
five-and-twenty, fond of poetry, accomplish-!
ed, handsome, but with scarcely nerve;
enough to fire off a gun.
Our lair cousin, Alice Verschoyle, had '
al ways been a subject for contention be-1
tween us. We had been jealous of her'
smiles iu boyhood; as men, we were still
more covetous of her favor. Through all
the Crimean battles, and ’neath the burning
Indian sun, in the perilous march with
Havelock,and while I lay prostrated by ill
ness after that fierce time of conflict was
past, 1 had worn her picture next my heart.
The case had turned away a ball that would j
else have pierced it.
There had been no avowed betrothal be- j
tween us when we parted ; but her fair form
was pressed unresistingly in my arms, and j
she wept her long farewell on my shoulder, i
It was true that she called herself my sister !
m the letters she wrote to me, but I never!
acknowledged the relationship. Nothing;
but poverty stood between us then ; and
now, I had risen in my profession. If I
found her still in the same humor, and will
ing to share the vicissitudes of a soldier’s
lot. 1 meant to make her my bride, As 1
looked at her across the table —tor we were
not seated near each other—and saw a deep
blush mount to her face beneath my anient!
gazn, I ln lieved that she would not retuse!
my petition,
Perhaps she thought me. vain, for every I
one was calling upon me to tell the tale i
our Indiim battles, She did not look til me ; I
her uy*» wtu’u quite averted ; but other w<»
m«m worn weeping as I spoke of the noble
paiieie *» of those huroie ladles, whose names
will live In history for their gallnut endu
ratwe of suffering at Ltrnktiow, I had seen
those pale victims, soum widowed, some op
plums, all most deeply tried by tie* prlva
tions mi I anxieties ol those long mouths of
walling, before th heavy boom of the guns
told them that our brave English soldiery
were advancing to their rescue,
(!afl I ever forget that midnight ovaotia
lion! Tim dread silence, the long lines of
troops, the awful Intervals, where all our
care could not prevent danger, through
whit h those half hunting women and their
brave but exhausted dcfeudeiM had to puss.
A BSMftfOVS 40
Thank Heaven I all went well—that no ac
cident, no untimely panic marred the plans
of our gallant chief. Dur triumph would
have been scant if one of that heroic band
had perished on their way to freedom !
Reginald had written some, verses on the
subject, which Alice had set to music. 1
; had not seen a tear in her bright eyes pre
[ viously, but they coursed each other down
i her cheeks as she sang my young cousin’s
words. 1 do not remember what they were,
! but I thought them scarcely worthy of the
1 subject, and certainly undeserving of the
precious drops they called forth.
A window was open near me, and 1 was
out. upon the terrace before the song was
ended. It was dark; and a couple of per
sons, who w ere seated on one of the bench
es set against the wall, were talking earn
estly, and did not perceive me. I heard a
lady’s voice say :
“ When her mourning for her grandfather
is laid aside, Missr Verschoyle will marry
her cousin. Sir Reginald Las one of the
finest estates in this county. It will be an
excellent match for her, and has been long
contemplated*!.}' the family.” •
It was, nevertheless, the first time such
a thought had entered my mind, and I was
one of Alice’s nearest relatives—too near,
some persons might consider, for us to think
of marrying; but if it were so, the same
objection applied to Reginald : we were all
first cousins to each other.
At that moment, there was a stir in the
j drawing room : a lady had fainted. I saw'
her borne out, and the fair head with its
long sweeping curls of golden brown, vyhich
had once rested so confidingly on my shoul-j
der, was now supported by another arm. I
.Ilw as Alice and Reginald. I did nob stay ,
to look at them ; one word from his lips
reached me. I saw the look of intense ag
; ony on his fair face, so like her own, as he
bent over the insensible girl. In one mo
ment, 1 knew that he loved her. I could not
wait to see her eyes open. 1 had stood fire
many times, but I had not courage to face!
the conviction that the first glance of revi
ving consciousness might bring to me, that
the passion I read in the dreaming boy’s!
eyes and voice was returned.
I believe I was half mad when 1 rushed!
away. 1 had traveled night and day* to j
meet her ; as 1 have said, 1 had not recov
ered from the effects of the injury I had
sustained during the street-fighting at Luck
now; when, in addition to severe wounds,
the beam of a falling house hud descended
ion my head, completely stunning me; and
but for the gallantry of my comrades, 1
should have been left for dead, at the mer
cy of our savage foes—and now 1 had seen
her in the arms of another. I had heard
her lips repeat his musical words; nay, 1
had seen her very senses forsake her under
the spell of emotions raised by what ap
peared to me to be paltry commonplace
lines. As 1 stood in the large hall where
we had all three played as children, to
which, as a man, I had so often pictured my
return, the bitterest mortification took pos
session of my soul. For the first time, I
remembered how inferior was my social
position to that of my cousin. 1, a mere
i soldier of fortune, who must return to a
■ burning climate, and a country on which
I henceforward women will look with dread
' and aversion; while all around me, bathed
1 in moonlight, from the high windows of that
noble hall hung with trophies of the chase
and the banners of our ancestors, I saw the
wide domain which belonged to the young
Baronet. Those were his deer trooping
under the trees. The magnificent cedars
grouped in the midst of the dewy lawn, the
! spreading elms and beeches, the majestic
I oaks—all belonged to that beardless boy
I What were a few years of manhood, a few
daring deeds which had won for me the re
! wards which a soldier covets —the medals
land crosses at which she had scarcely
| glanced—compan d to his advantages.
As 1 went up the stairs, each step awoke
painful recolleel ions. We had come down
them together on the morning when 1 left
home to rejoin my regiment, then just or
dered on active service. Here, at the land
ing, we paused long, while she gave me her
picture, and, after some hesitation, the chain
of golden hair that still supported it. Had
it been woven for me? Alice would not
confess, but .she did not deny the fact. I
always believed that it was so,
As I stood looking down into the lighted
hall, two persons came into it together.—
Alice seemed well, ami scarcely to need the
support (if Reginald’s arm, mi which she
was leaning, I heard him say ;
“Is it so, Alice ! Have you quite deci
ded I Will you never repent, and wish to
draw lan k from the words vmi have spoken
tonight?" ’
He took her hand and looked in her lair
lane with mouridul teiiduriinsH, I did not
wflll to hear lier answer. I yould not con
tim inyM-ll sulllujuiitly to move away tiui
Hly, As I looked down upon them (Or the
aat time, I saw that Alive had started from
her companion and was ga/ltig upward ; I
even fancied that she vailed me, hut I did
not return or iiuswer her. Better for all of
us would It have been, ff | had heeded that
sweet warning=volee,
I rushed to my room at mice, and for
hours I walked up and down, M w<.|l
Ing within me like the surging sea, Then
ATLANTA, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, APRIL 18, 1863.
HIS BANNER OVER US IS LOVE.
for a short time my mood changed, my sus
; picionsseemed unfounded. I recalled Alice’s
joy at seeing me again ; the soft broken
words of delight she had uttered when I
came upon her by surprise in the park;
our long pleasant walk together, so full of
old recollections and present confidences.—
If no plighted vows had been exchanged, it
was because we both had been exchanged,
it was because we both had long known
that we were pledged to each other. The
words I had heard on the terrace now seem
ed to me idle gossip, mere nonsense. The
morning would bring her ajjain before, me,
bright, beautiful and truthful as ever. For
an instant the demon of jealousy stood re
buked ; but again and again he returned,
maddening my already fever-d brain and
over-worked frame till every nerve quiver
ed with excitement.
The same images haunted me when, at
last, 1 lay down, exhausted by fatigue; but,
deeming it impossible to sleep, just as a dull
gray haze spread over the landscape, ob
scuring the moonlight which w.-.s soon to
place to the dawn. The last thing
that I remembered was the swaying of the
fir-tops, as the old trees opposite to my open
window rocked to the blast.
\\ hen 1 woke, it, was broad daylight.—
The sun was sinning in, tempered by silken
hangings that waved in the fresh breeze.—
A part of each of the shutters was closed,
and the room, considering that the mommy
was so brillianth line out of doors, was
somehow shaded and darkened. I very
faintly recollected the train of ideas which
had so tortured me ere 1 lay diovti, hut an
impatient feeling, such as might visit a stif
| fever from long sickness or a prisoner, as
; sailed me. 1 tried to start up from my
couch, but a strange feeling of weakness,
like what I had experienced when I was first
wounded, came over me, and I fell back
again.
As I moved, a woman-servant stepped
J forward quickly, and in gentle measured
tones spoke to me. I did not understand
a word of what she said ; a mist came be
fore my eyes, her voice rang indistinctly in
! my ears, a horrible, sickening dread came;
over me—images of horror seemed to fill'
| the room, and I fainted. When I revived,!
my mind was clear; the spectral forms
, which had flashed across my vision became !
distinct, and 1 recognized them as shapes in
a dream. I felt that 1 was ill and weak,
and 1, the once strong man, lay prostrate,
incapable of moving. 1 thanked my God
for the helplessness which, it might be, had
saved me from such guilt as in the visions!
of the night had been mine.
I do not know whether at that moment
any one was watching by me. The person
lor persons in the room, if it were so, must
. have been very quiet, for not a sound dis
turbed me as 1 recalled the images which
had been present with me in that fevered
dream. The room I was iu was one that 1
knew well, and outside the window ran a
narrow ledge of ornamental stone-work,
which went along the entire front of that old
house. It was barely wide enough to step
upon, yet I fancied that I had walked the
whole length of it in safety, till in my dream
I came to my cousin Reginald’s room. He
was now the master of the house, and slept
Jn what had once been my grandfather’s
apartment. When I was a boy, the kind
old man had an illness, during which my
mother nursed him; and the severest rep
rimand 1 ever received from her was when
of the servants told her that Master Hubert
had got upon the stone ledge outside his
window, and tried to walk round to one
that opened into the chamber where she was
sitting up with the invalid. My father said
then that it was a thing impossible to be
done, but in my drcam 1 fancied that 1 had
achieved it.
My cousin was a painter as well as a
poet, and the room in which I imagined
him lying was full of indications of his
tastes, which were all gentle and refined. —
A half-finished picture stood on an easel, at
which he must have been gazing before he
fell asleep. It was Alice reading a letter,
with a bright flush of happiness and warm
love in her face. A small but beautiful
statue, modeled after some old classic ideal
of loveliness, but with her features, stood
on a table at his elbow, He was stretched
on a couch, still dressed as I had seen l.im,
calm, hut. with the melancholy expression
which was habitual to him. His dedicate,
aristocratic features and pale complexion,
which looked yet whiter in the lamp light.,
were almost feminine in their regular beau
ty, I do not know wlnit disturbed his
slumbers, for all passed dreamlike in si
lenee; but he woke, and, rising up, appi'in
ed to come forward to close the window at
which I was standing, The ledge mis so
nai row, that It seeimal to me a toucli would
throw me off my ludani'u, and precipiliili*
me many fitllioms Io Ilm paved court liulow,
Tim Instinct of self prt'si real ion, mingled
with a strong nntiigonhtiu feeling, arose
within me as my rival approached, I
grasped the statiuhioii of tin* window, and
sprang into tin* room,
Hmm< kind of misty, Inilldlnut I'eeolluc
lions iTiino next ol it confflut between uq in
which piWMti.s were made, the Midi lull <• was
thrown down, and tin* tianvas of the pielurc
plorccil through with the sharp point ol the
blade iiu'loMcd in a sword slick, which I had
snatched up before leaving my room, and
; with which I had steadied my footsteps on
i the giddy ledge. 1 felt the excitement of
battle once more, the fierce rising of blood
thirsty passion. Though no words were
exchanged, we seemed to know that we were
rivals, and that a dealh struggle was pass
ing - between us.
How it ended I knew not. At this point
my sleep must have been interrupted, foi I
remembered no more of my dream, which
chilled me as I recalled it. 1 did not rnen-i
tion it to any human being during my slow
recovery, and few words were spoken in
my presence. I had been dangerously ill
tor many weeks, which had passed in the
delirium caused by brain fever. My wounds
had re-opened, and the greatest caution was
necessary ; above all things, the mention
of any agitating topic had been prohibited.
1 began to think that my jealous surmises
were unfounded, when I woke up night after
night and found Alice watching over me. —
The attendant slumbered in her chair un
chidden, while my true-love waited upon
ma Sometimes her kind gentle mother
would call her away, and say that she over
taxed her strength, but Alice would come
back again at the same hour the next night.
"he horrid dream which had followed
m\ access of jealous fury, returned again and
ag? n. I rejoiced that Alice’s sweet face
wa beside my pillow when I woke from it.
NxThing evil could remain near her, and the
bad spirit was rebuked; but he took pos-1
sos ion of my senses in her absence, bring-1
ing forever before me that accursed vision. I
thought that the house seemed singu-!
larly quiet, and that my nurses were all!
grave, even sad, in their demeanor; but
this was probably occasioned by the preca-!
riousness of my situation. Alice, in her!
white flowing robes, looked almost spectral;
bu I trusted that, with reWlrning health, I
sh< uld see her under happier auspices, and,!
it’s le grieved for me, her pale dejected face
d\i not appear less lovely than when she
smiled upon me on my return.
No rival came between us now. My
sick chamber was visited only by the phy
! sieiaiis, and by those whose especial task it
! was to wait upon mo. Not a breath of
wind, was pass ng without reached me. 1,
felt surprised that my cousin Reginald, for:
j whom I was once more beginning to enter-!
tain affection, never came to see me; but. j
pride restrained the inquiry which often
! rose to my lips.
Once, when I casually mentioned his name,
Alice looked troubled; a deep shade cross
!V;d her fair brow, her bright eyes filled with
tears.
“ Do not. let us speak of any one but our-!
selves,” she said softly. “This is my j
world. It may be selfishness, but I can not
interest myself in anything that goes for
ward outside of these closed doors till you
are well enough to leave this chamber of
sickness, and share the pains and pleasures
of this changeful world with me.. Think
how bright everything looked when you re
turned from abroad, and how little we
thought what, a day, even an hour, might
bring forth!”
1 could not quarrel with her answer,
though I strove to chase away the tears
that followed it, and lead her thoughts to
brighter prospects. When I spoke of re
turning with her to the east, she -looked at
me sadly. .1 thought that she doubted
whether I should ever recover sufficiently
to resume the duties of my profession,
though 1 assured her that 1 already felt
much stronger and better.
“It is not that,” she sajd hesitatingly ;
“perhaps, Hubert, you will never need to
go to India. Do not question me. I ought
not to have said even this much ; but there
have been changes among us since you have
been ill. It is so hard t»w dissemble with
you !”
Iler mother’s entrance prevented the rev
elation that was quivering on her lips; but
my curiosity was roused. The next I rose,
to try my strength, and walked to the win
dow. Os late, the vision had not come so
strongly, and 1 started at seeing the narrow
stone ledge exactly as 1 had imagined it to
be. I fancied myself still dreaming; and
lin'd by this slight exertion, I crept back to
my couch.
It was mid-winter; the park was deep in
snow; the stream that traversed the lower
part, of the grounds was frozen, and long
icicles hung from the eaves, before my
strength was siitlicieiitly restored for me to
Ifiave my room, Even tbim, my first ap
pearaucf was a surprise to the family, I
mid imt mentioned my inteiitioii; and the
lights were shining warmly anti cheerily as
I entered tin* drawing-room, where tin* large|
Christ mas lire was Ida/ing, kindled,!with tin*
} uh* log from tin* last year’s burnings bm
my feelings Were chilled b t y seeing Alice
gild her nmlhtU' sitting beside il dressed in
deep mmiriilng. They Inul m*vur visited
my mcl» cliiimher in black, or said a word
of any chiisc for assuming it.
Ali'ee started up wllh a cry of surprise,
ami ran to incut me,
"What is this?’’ I said, laying my hand
!mi Imr slnevu, "Why me ymi in
mmiriilng !"
She threw herself into my arms and wept.
My mint, who hiul risen hurriedly, umiiu
towards us and drew nm nearer to the sofa.
"Hit down, poor fellow! you are mq,
| strong enough to support her. Ah! Hu
bert, we have all ha I much cause for sor
row. The shock will find you unprepared ;
but since you are once more among us, it
can not be kept from you. My nephew,
Sir Reginald Moore, your cousin, is dead !
We. are in mourning for him.”
I was deeply grieved ; and my aunt, see
ing that for the monunt I could not speak,
said, with a glance at Alice, whose counte
nance was hidden on my arm :
“ Do not ask me to tell you the particu
lars at present. I doubt whether we could,
any of us, bear to speak of them, or you to
hear what has filled this house with grief.
Never was there a kinder heart, a better
master —so young, too—so beloved.”
Alice’s sobs shook her slight frame.
Iler mother paused abruptly. “ Vye
must not speak of it,” she said decisively;
“Mr. Verschoyle will tell you this sad tale
to-morrow.”
I was silent at her bidding, but my mind
was full of surprise and sorrow. The wild
dream in which 1 had seemed to myself to
enter Reginald’s chamber, recurred to my
thoughts. It appeared to have been a pre
sentiment of the coming woe; and I re
membered with deep regret the unkind
thoughts towards my cousin which I hid
entertained when I saw him—how little ei
ther of us supposed that, it was tor the last
time.
It was quite impossible that we should,
any of us, turn our thoughts-from this pain
ful subject. I did not remain in the room
long; and when my uncle, seeing how great
ly fatigued and depressed I appeared to be,
offered me his arm ; I accepted it, and went
lat once back to the sick-chamber, which I
had quitted with such different feelings.
The old butler handed us a light as we
passed through the hall, saying gravely :
“1 am glad to see you able to get about, Sir
! Hubert.”
I staggered as he spoke. The words
seemed to pierce through and through me.
Strange as it may seem, it had not, in the
surprise of hearing of my cousin’s death,
occurred to me that I was his heir. lie
was so much younger than myself; I had
always considered that he was certain to
I marry, and would iu all probability survive
! me; never had my thoughts rested on the
■possibility of my inheriting his rights!
My uncle saw how much I was distress
ed. “Servants never miss an opportunity
of addressing a person by his title,” he said
bitterly. “ Even that old fellow, who knew
poor Reginald in his cradle! But surely,
my dear Hubert, you must know that you
'are now the head of our family.”
“ 1 had not thought of it,” I said, moving
jon with difficulty. “1 do not think that my
brain has been quite steady for some time
—everything seems to reel before my eyes.
Come to my room ; I can not sleep till you
have told me how my poor young cousin
died.”
I believe" that my uncle exercised great
caution in what he imparted to me, but I
scarcely remember what words he used.—
He tried very hard to dissuade me from
listening, but I insisted on hearing all that
was known respecting an event which was
wrapped in mystery. My cousin had been
found dead, with marks of violence on his
person, when his valet elite red his room one
morning during my illness. He had suffer
ed very much for some time from low spir
its, arising from Alice’s having rejected the
offer of his hand, which he ha<l repeatedly
made to her. She was so dreadfully affect
ed by the idea that despair on this account
had led him to put an end to his existence,
that the subject was most carefully avoided
in her presence. At first, it had been imag
ined that robbers had entered the house,
which was known to contain much valuable
plate, and jewelry. There were some, indi
cations of this having been the case; but
neither Sir Reginald’s purse nor his watch,
which were on the table, had been taken,
and the most strenuous search and sedulous
inquiries had failed in eliciting the fact of
any burglars having been in the neighbor
hood. Nothing had been left undone or
untried, and the conclusion at which the
family had arrived was a most painful one.
It was thought best, to let the matter drop.
I listened as though I were in a <lream,
but not. the slighl<‘st idea that 1 was in any
way connected with this sad ami strange
event occurred to me, My nm lestaiil with
me for some time, but I scarcely spoke to
him. When he was gone, I lay down, quite
e.xh;nist<»d with fatigue, ami slept,
Thu ngittition which I had nmL-rgone
brought <ui a reliqw, ami I wascoidim’d to
my ronin for wm Im. When I roeoyeretl
jmv Simses—|m' during ilm wliole time my
lujiiu whs uoiifusmj nml week —ulmurfiil im-
Hgt's sin roiimlud nit'i Mv rebitivf’H luul
hri n mhisud by ilm pliynmliins to lay imide
tlmir iiioiiriiiiig, mill nil iiientloil of iimlmi
(•hilly topiuß whs forltliblt'ii, I look my
pliiuu itinoiig tlmiii Dime more, grudmilly n*
siiiiiiiig my former iniliils, ami at length
grow ing rtuetislmned to ilm eliimgu prodiiuud
in ilium by my liulug li'uuluil ns the immlur
of i Im house,
My eiigiigemuiit to Alice was now uni
versiilly known mid acknowledged, Hur
parents auqiilusuuil In It, ami im objection
was made to my wish (hid our rnarrlagc
should be speedily sulunild/.ed, I ler Imalth
wiui shaken, mid il was consldort’d Hint It
TERMS — Three Dollars a-year.
■ would be better for both of us if the tie was
cemented without unnecessary delay. There
was no great preparation. AH passed qui
, etly. We walked across the park to the
little church in the village, which was gay
ly hung with flowers that the early breeze
had brought into existence. Alice’s coronal
of white roses had been woven for her that
morning, with the dew upon their petals.
We were to leave home for a short time;
and while my bride was bidding farewell to
her mother,. I went to my room to fetch
down a traveling cloak which had been my
companion in many an arduous campaign.
As I drew it ofl‘ the hook, something fell
clattering down, I stooped and picked up
the sword-slide, which had done me good
service iu the dark streets of Constantino
ple, among the drunken Bashi-Bazouks and
thieving Greeks. The sight of the weapon
recalled the dream which I had had when I
was first taken ill—l had forgotten it late
ly. Reginald’s dimly-lighted room, the
poor, graceful youth reclining among works
of art, with the pale gleam of the night-lamp
shining ou his handsome face. I shuddered,
and was about to put aside the sword-stick
when some involuntary impulse made me
try to unsheathe it. , The blade was rusted
in the scabbard, and would not come forth.
My hands trembled ; I was forced to lean
against the wall—when at last, with a more
vigorous effort, 1 succeeded, and saw a dull
red stain upon the blue sheen of the polish
ed steel.
At that moment, my name was called.—
I threw the weapon back into the closet
from which 1 had taken it, and hurried
down. The carriage was at the door; Al
ice was shedding her parting tears on her
mother’s shoulder. The postillions were
restraining with difficulty their impatient
horses. Every one was crowding round us
with congratulations and good wishes. 1
paused one moment on the threshold. Should
I reveal thedark thoughts passing through my
mind? After all, what were they ? Mere
vague surmises, based upon the airy fabric of
a drcam, while before me was life—real, pal
pablehappiness. 1 drew A lice away from her
parents, impatiently, but with tenderness,
lifted her into the carriage ; and the next mo
ment the ancestral oaks and beeches, the
peaked roofs of the old hall, were fast Aiding
from our view.
A month passed quickly with us. I
think, I believe, that Alice was happy. For
myself, I can not tell; 1 seemed to live in a
dream, less real than the accursed vision
which day and night was present to rny
eyes. If I slept, 1 started up, imagining
myself walking along that giddy ledge,
steadying myself by the aid of a weapon
down which blood was slowly dropping.—
My wife imagined that the nervous starts
and tremors, which often shook my frame,
were the remains of my long illness. All
that was soothing and gentle lay in her voice
and manner, yet their very sweetness tor
tured me when the thought was roused that
I had done a deed for which my life might
be the forfeit. Must I lose her?
Never was this sensation stronger than
when we drove up the long avenue leading
to our home. There were her parents,
whom I-regarded as my own now ; the old
servants, who had known us from infancy.
Must I stand before them as a culprit—a
murderer ? Would any one believe that I
had done this most vile deed in my sleep
—unconsciously—l, who had profited so
largely by my cousin’s death ? and yet,
could the tortures of the prisoner in his
condemned cell be greater than 1 must en
dure if 1 lived among them, bearing the
weight of such a burden on my heart?—
Could 1 hide it from Alice? —from those
who sat at the same table with me, and
were so near me in blood ?
As I crossed the threshold, even while
Alice was blushingly receiving her parents’
kisses ami congratulations, my resolve was
made, and before night-fall put in practice.
Nothing could cx’ceed the surprise of my
relatives when, after hurriedly opening the
letters that awaited rny return, I said in one
one of them that my immediate presence in
Loudon was required. There was but just
time to catch the train at the next station.
I took nothing with me but a change of
clothes, and the sword-stick, which had lain
unnoticed in the dark corner to which I had
consigned it; ami, declining Alice’s offer to
accompany me, I left her with her parents,
and was soon traveling through the soft
darknoss of the summer night, alone —per-
haps, it might be, exeroising fi»r the last
time the privileges of freedom,
I did not follow the route I had marked
out, hut, after tliu first mile, I directed the
c’tiauliiiiim to turn Ins horses’ heads, and
drive me to the house of the nearest eouu
try magistrate, lie was an old friend of
our fitmilv, iiiul nothing could exceed his
distress when I mitdu known my ai'randi=
In vitin lu* argued with nm that the inqires
aioli on wliieli I whs nuling hud been loi'in
ed iiinlur the iiilliieimt* of delirium, I slmw=
ed him tin* weapon with the stain of blood
upon tliu blade, and surrendering my per
situ Into Ills luinda, duslring that flu' fiillMt
ami most oomplulu Itivcsllgiiilon might take
place.
I now heard for the first time tliu exact
particulars of the state iti which Hlr Itugl
tinld Moore was found when his servantom
' [UoNCLUIiKD ON FOUnTlt f’AOMd
NO. 22.