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war aa if it bad beeUftbe bed of a mountain
torrent. But curving around all difficulties, on
and on they flew, till they reached the avenue
gate, and oh 1 what a wreck.
Two immense oaks that had hoarded the dew
and sunshine in their broad green tops for
many a year, and guarded the entrance on
either side, lay crushed and splintered, a shape
less mass. The wreathing jessamines, that
hung their starry blossoms along the walk,
were straggling, torn and tangled in the eddy
ing rifts of withered leuves, while showers of
the over-ripe petals were scattered like pink
lipped shells amid the desolation. Shutters
creaked to and fro, torn from their binges, and
one chimney, partially tom away from the dis
mantled roof, was choked with bricks and
mortar.
Slowly picking their way, they mounted the
steps in silence, and hero a magnificent Indian
creeper barred the entrance. Very lovingly
India laid it back on the trellis, while its
crimson bells shook out their delicate aroma,
as if grateful for the olden touch. Clarenoe
drew back the bolt, and would have entered,
but India wished to be alone—alone with
throbbing memories that were pulsating tear
fully in her heart. Going back on the piazza,
he awaited her coming, somewhat impatiently
at first, but settled himself in deep thought,
and was startled when she laid her hand
lightly on bis arm, saying:
'Come, Clar nee, let us visit my father’s
grave and then we will return.’
Her voice had a peculiar huskiness in its
ton* and her cheek was blanched like marble.
• Why India, are you ill ?’
‘ N"-’ , ,
1 Let ua go home. Your powera of endur
ance are not equal to this task. I will bring
yon here any day.’
‘Go without visiting all that makr this
spot dear tome, now?’ she asked mouiofully.
‘Never.’.
Drawing her arm through his own, he al
most supported her trembling frame down the
long flower garden, towards the family resting
plaoe of the dead. One glance over the wall,
as they came near, and he turned I ndia sudden
ly round and entreated her not to go on. Ho
knew that her nerves were already strained In
their utmost tension, and the sight within
would have shocked stouter nerves than
her’e.
' No, no,' she implored entreatingly, 1 1 shall
be miserable if I turn back.'
1 India, it will break your heart.’
•If grief could kill, my heart would have
broken longago.’
• You shall not go;’ and now he wound hts
arms tightly around her aa if to coerce her by
physical force. But with a quick, dexterous
motion, she slid from bis embrace, and flying'
through the gc*e, wrenched and torn from its
hinges, fell senseless on her father's vault. A
bengy limb, whirled in the wild fury of the
storm, had shivered the marble covering to
atoms, torn away the brick work around, and
crashing through the turfing, splintered the
coffin below. Clarence, thoroughly vexed at
her perverseness, wheu he saw her fall, said
half aloud, ‘ah! it served you right;’ but when,
aa she did not stir, he raised her till her fixed
and atony glare met hia gaze ; wheu he saw
the blood trickling from a gash on her delicate
temple; When he lifted the limp wrist, and
found neither warmth or pulsation, he dropped
her affrigbtedly to tire turf; for be had never
seen a person faint before, and supposing her
really dead, rushed nway lo the quarters for
aid.
At Ibis moment s buggy drove up the
avenue, and two young gentlemen entered the
grounds.
‘This way Evelyn,’ aud Harry Auncsly—
for it was hym—led the way for the first time,
in many a month, to his uncle’s grave, his com
panion following him silently, till they readied
the gate, where both entered together.—
Young Evelyn was the first to discover India.
• Harry what is that ?’ and he seized his
arm, drawing back with terror; but Harry
leaped forward with a single bouud, and lifting
the death stricken figure as it had been a
child’s, exclaimed:
‘ My darling cousin, is it thus wo meet?’—
Then he chafed the drooping hands and funned
the clay cold brow till signs of consciousness
returned, imploring her with tears and earesjM
in tones that might have awakened the dead, to
revive again. At last, as il her spit i: recog.
nixed bis bidding, she opened i ur ey«» -vith a
soil aweet smile, gazed timidly around, aud
then sank back, as if she were too weak and
helpless to rise.
'lndia do you know me?’ aud tears fell
fost upon ber pallid cheek.
•Yes, Harry, but I am too weary to talk
now. I have had a long, painful dream, and I
thought you had gone away ; but it is all over
now ; you will not leave me, Harry?’
‘Not now, India,’ and then she muttered
unintelligibly, and seemed to be sinking into a
deep sleep; but all at once she cried out as if
in sudden pain, passed her hand backwards
and forwards over her brow, aud springing up,
gtsed around her. Her eye was calm—life
and reason had returned ; but she evidently
could not understand why Clarence was ab
sent and Harry there. She did not notice
young Evelyn, who, with Harry's first success,
feeling with intuitive delicacy that lie was no
longer needed, had retired to a far oil tomb.
‘ Oh I Harry, my own dear cousin,’ while the
' faintest possible red fluttered back to her cheek
I and lip, ‘you cannot begin to think how glad I
THE SOUTHERN FIELD AND FIRESIDE.
am to aee you ; for I have never forgotteuyou
through the long weeks of yotir neglect.’
‘ India, there is some mistake. I have called
and inquired at your ancle's till I found it was
of so avail. You either could not, or would
not see me. The first I could not believe, the
last I was forced to do.!
* They never told me this,’ she said, with a
slow, thoughtful tone that carried conviction
to bis heart; ‘ but Harry, will you come to
Rosemary next Thursday moyning ? i shall
be alone then.'
•God willing, I will.’ *
‘ I have very much to say to you; but I
bear my eousin’s footsteps, and you mutt not
meet him here;’ and she was turning away,
when she remembered all. ‘Oh Harry,' and
she pointed to the grave.
‘ Leave it to me,’ he said, interpreting at
once ber speechless gesture. ' I will not leave
the grounds till every thing is restored to its
former comeliness,’ and lifting her hand, ha
pressed it passionately to his lias. '
*****
Just outside the gate India met Clarence re
turning, with Maum Hetty just behind, bear
ing a gourd of spring water and a vial of cam
phor. Both greeted her with the most extrava
gant expressions of delight; but ITetty fairly
hugged her for a moment, and then lifting ber
from the ground, ,bore ber rapidly towards her
,cabin, as she had so often done When a little
child. With a big sob she said, after placing
her on her own bed :
‘Lie there honey, and go to sleep, till jou
don't look so wan and spirit like. You are as
good as one risen from the dead to us anyhow.
The people will dance to see you. I must sitofl
to them.’
' Not to day, maumur. I can't stand any
more. I will come agaiu soon.'
‘ Deed you shant be worried, Miasrte,’ and
stepping to the door she brandished s long
switch over a crowd of little darkies congre
gating about the ddor, scattering them like a
flock of wood pigeons.
Then returning, she stood over India, as if to
drink every tone and expression, aud 'at last,
as if continuing a broken train ol thought
aloud:
‘lt was most too sorrowful a sight; no won
der it cam) Dear breaking your heart. But
don’t fret honey, old matter hisself isn’t tbar.
I was there at the peep of day and watched
and waited, though I knowed he waa shouting
the loudest balleldjahs in heaven. I didn't
come away till the children cried for bread,
and 1 will go back and see that nothing hap
pens till somebody comes to fix It’
1 Your Mass Harry will see to that msumor.’
‘Mass Harry never comes here, now,’ and
there was a world of meaning in her tone.
1 He has come and is up at tbs grave now.’
‘Thank the Lord,’ she ejaculated piously, • my
old eyes will be blessed like Simeon's to-day.'
*Oh little Missie, next to you Mass Harry
was my honey pot. I never yet seed as hand
some a one,' and then ns if she feared India's
feelings might be wounded, pointing through
tho open door, where Clarence waited topping
the blossoms in his impatience— 1 but that one
is handsome too. Is he tolher one V
‘Yes, maumer.’
* Well God may forgive him, but 1 never
can.’
CHAPTER VIII.
“Ills soul wai *t rest for hts fstth was profound,
Bis anchor wasitrong mmlUod'amerey isdesp.— Alton.
For aotue time afier ludia left tiie place,
Harr) sat like one entranced, and Evelyn
waited till he could endure the sight no lunger,
then coming forward he wound bis arm with
boyish fondness round him, saying :
‘ Lot me help you, Harry. I have unravelled
it all. Why did you never tell me tiiat Miss
Morgan was your cousin ? Ilow very beauti
ful site is, and she loved you, too, my man.’
‘ Hush Evelyn, she is engaged to Clureuce
Morgau.’
■ * Perhaps she is; did you never hear ot the
hand without the heart ?'
‘lndia is not cue lo do this. No, no, what
ever .you do, dou’l revive au old love that I
thought till this morning, smothered forever;
hut,’ and his whole frame -shook with anguish;
‘ one breath of affcCtiou, aud the fiatue leaps
forth, fiercely as ever. She is dearer to me
lhau every thing in tho wide world, and I
can’t give her up io that bold, bad man— if it
were oulv you, Evelyn— would to God I could
save her.’
* Harry who taqght mo that all will come
right in the end, that all God’s ways are love ?
It is my turn to teach now.’
‘Yes, my friend, you ure right. I need tha
chastening ; I am better new ; aud uow what
is to be done ?’
‘Letme send for my father, his judgment
and experience is a thousand timos belter than
ours.’
‘ But would he come ?’
‘You would not have asked that question if
you bad known him longer,’ aud he dispatched
a boy to town for bis father ut once, sending
him an account of all that had happened.
Then they withdrew a little distance, and
arranging a cointertable seal with the buggy
cushions, awaited his arrival.
‘ Now Harry do tell me a little more of your
history: you know I love you like a brother.’
‘ There is little to tell. My father died be
fore I was born ; and of my mother, I only re
member that the nurse held me over the coffin
lid, and helpe# me to twine a half opened rose
amid her glossy curls; but never till my
unde’a death, did I realise that I waa an or
phan. He took .me not only to his hearthstone,
but to hia heart. , He educated me, for I was
entirely dependent upon hia bounty; bat when
I came from collbge, and wiabed to go forth
into the world and support myself he sternly
forbade the thing, and Wok me into all hia
{dans and oounsels, aya treated me in every
thing like au own dear son.’
, • But the will Harry, tell me about the will.’
*lt seems when India waa a tiny child, the
verytyear before I came to Indioie, I think, my
uncle waa very ill, and made a will, consigning
India and the estate to Mr. Kara Morgan as
guardian. This warbefore be had earned his
character of a scheming, selfish money maker.
Hia son waa a quiet lad, and tha intercourse
between the families perfectly friendly. Some
two years since he made another will in which
he divided the property equally between us,
appointing Dr. Carswell, his beet friend, ex
ecutor. When be died the last will was miss
ing, and strange to My, the first was produced,
for it had never been destroyed.’
‘How very strange! Would that it might
dpe found. Have you no suspicions of any
one’s instrumentality in spiriting it away ?’
‘No, thank God, whatever else I have had to
contend with, I am not obliged to look upon
any one as guilty of this great wrong ; but if
itoouldooly be found: if India and myself
coaid Come back, the will made provision for
us here, she m ; ght be saved even yet.’
‘ God works in wondrous ways ; but where
waa Clarence Morgan during the burial of your
uncle T’ ,
‘ I never heard.’
* Were the rest of the family present ?’ i
■Yes.’
1 Harry, that man is in some way connected
with the missing will, lake my word for it.—
You don’t know as much of him as I do.’ ■*
‘ Don’t Evelyn, I would not for the world
wrong any man, by suspicion even. II it is
God’s will that this inheritance reverts to me,
I shall surety have it, and all the Morgaus in
tho world cauuot keep it from me.’
‘ I am sure your cousin will do you justice.’
‘ She has offered to do so, but I shall never
accept it from her hands ; but let us drop the
subject. I have given up all hopes of the
property long ago. If auy have wronged me
it will never beuefit them, and I don’t find
roughing life so very dreadful either, under
your father’s gentle espionage. Hitherto my
path had led beside still waters, and the same
guiding star is over me, shooting down from the
great white thione its shming (ays of hope and
promise.
- Tim sun was sinking low in. the west when
Judge Evelyn arrived, although he had acted
promptly as ever at this call of humanity, and
now came with two stout negro hands, accus
tomed to digging graves, and another coffin.
A few moments of sympathy and counsel
for Harry, and then the limb was promptly re
moved, the earth shoveled out of the deep
vault, and wbeu all was ready, cords were
made fast to the coffin aud it was slowly raised
to the turf above. The coffin wag found to be
uninjured, and it wag, after a little deliberation,
thought best net to disturb the body, but to
unscrew the fractured lid and place all the rest
in the new coffin, which proved to be suffi
ciently large. This was accordingly done, but
in lifting the lid a splinter caught the skirt of
the coat, in which Mr. Morgan had been buried,
and drew il quite over the outside. Judge
Kvelyu stepped to replace it, but as hn did so,
he felt something so substantial within that he
involuntary dropped hie hand within the
pdhket and turned it wrong side out. A heavy
morocco case for holding papers foil to the
ground, and Harry gave a wild cry of joy:
• The will, Judge Evelyn, tha will I Didn’t
I tell jgm Evelyn—thank God I have wroDged
no mau. Why has not this been thought of
before ?’
‘ What will, Harry ?’ gazing at him as if he
thought he was demented.
1 My inheritance sir, is here,’ and he hugged
the package to hia heart.
1 Why, Harry, my boy I who thought you
so mad about wealtli ?’ \ -
‘ There is more here—my life, my all; but
tell him Evelyn, I cannot.’
Aud Kvelyu told his father, as Hiwry slowly
unstrapped the package, and drawing forth the
precious document, turned it over ,and over, as
one gazes at a beloved face. turning
to the Judge, be said : jfc '
• And now sir, I dW’ ■■■■*
‘ Substantiate it at once.’
‘How?’
‘Leave that to me.’
The coffin was lowered to its resting place,
the mound richly turfed, and just as {he first
stars came out the three left jfee place ; but
eb I with what different emutfis’ from those
with which they had entered W the morning.
Now Harry’s heart leaped exultingly, and he
saw more clearly than ever the finger of God
marking out the way for his deliverance.—
While Judge Evelyn and his son, almost as
jubilant in their sympathy, were planning, the
one to* secure for him his cousin, and the
other his estate.
• [TO BE COKTINCED. I
If ‘ distance tends enchantment, to the view,’
and said ‘view’ does not return it within a rea
sonable lime, has ‘distance’ a legal cause of ac
tion, and is she entitled to recover ?
I Written for the Southern Field and Fireside.]
TO THE FIRST SNOW OF ’63.
ifL- BY ELNORA.
Jbk «
Osee If thy. pure snow-dukes enameled the earth.
VT but drove our loved group to the bright blazing
hearth.
And e’eu brightened our boisterous laughter and
mirth—
Our ehiidlah mirth.
For with oar cold anow-baila and turbulent play,
Bade snow men who gate up the ghost in a day,
Oar llrsa rolled a* bright, golden wheels away— ‘
Lore’s wheels away. «
But now whoa old winter’s chill breath falls fast.
In erery moan of the tempest blast ,
There tolls a knell for dear pleasures past—
Sad pleasures past.
We tremble aghast at the iee-eold baeese
As It sighs and shrieks through the waring trees,
And bends the tall mast on the surging seas- -
The grave-like seas
In fancy we hear in each sound of the gale
* The lone eenVy’e troad’ or the soldier's sick wail,
AuS eur grief-hardened spirits do well nigh fall—
They well nigh foil.
Since last our fair earth was arrayed in thy white.
Our dny-star has sunk ’mid the darkness of night.
For he who was once onr gay-homaatead's dellgit—
f Bloat homestead's delight.
At Malvern's the noblest and best of our land
With him mat their fate—a pare martyr band,
Laid low by the hireling's guilt-stained hud—
Hla blood-stained hand.
Do ye marvel now that onr tad heart’s bound
At the rattling of hail on the froaen ground,
With'rlug the green leaves oa our darlingls moun^
Hla glory-wreath'd mound t X
[For the Southern Field and Fireside. ]
CONSTANCE.
BT CYJULLK iIEHLK.
The storm lasted several days. Wilfred
fouod himself in pleasant durance—dispatched
tidings of his safety to Km, and was content.
Pleasant days they were, consumed in music
aud reading the Netherlands, continued, to
which Constance listened without a syllable,
and Buy smiled maliciously over. Walks iu the
longgallery at twilight, Wilfred with Constance
whenever die
resisted HotSora% wiles-nt first; But soKimes
that maiden willed it otherwise, and Wilfred
would walk silently by her side, thrilled by be
wildering glances, or a touch of her hand when
she appeared to forget herself in the warmth of
her theme. Sometimes she would sing low
delicipus ballads that melted into the twilight
and kept lime with the rain, her dangerous
eyes fixed on Wilfred, aud he—truth to tell—
with hia on her, wearing the look-of the infat
uated whom the Syren lures by the 'castled
Rhine.’ But then, he said it was her vpice, not
her—poor dupel Constance, walking with Ruy
Velasquez, would grow distraite and watch
them, then blame herself severely for her want
of faith in one who stoope.d from his •
high position to alowiy girl and had been con
stant ever since.
‘How handsome Wilfred St. Maris,’ Honors
said, when she and Constance were enshrined
in their own room the last night they were to
gether—she had been walking with him that
evening.
Constance, loosening her hair at the glass,
said, 'yes,' then pulled it all over her face.
Honors, lazily divesting herself of tier triu-#
keta, went on: ‘They say he loves you, child
is that so?’
It may have been the veil of hair that made
Constance's voice sound faint. ‘I don’t koow N ’
Then revsaling her glowing face with a sudden
effort: ‘He has said so, Honors—this is only
for your ear—l could not marry him now, yon
know, and so I told him, but he seemed willing
to wait then'— ,the tremble came back to tier
voice. Tdo not consider it an engagement I
would not tax him so. But—yes, Honora, I
will tell you. it bad made me very happy tp be
so loved—though he lias a perfect right’ to mar
ry aoy one else, and I am wrong to lean upon
the knowledge as I do; for it is not natural for'
a man to spend his youth in waiting for what
has no definite limit'
‘lt is not,' Honors answered bitterly, ‘because
men have not the stability of women—of you,
who are rightly named Constance, and you'll
find your knight flown. Love dwells in a spark
ling eye and is faithful to a damask cheek. He
flies faded looks, Constance.'
Constanoe had drawn a low stool to tho
lounge where Honora sat She put her head in
Honora’s lap and was silent Form had been
givdi to her doubts. . >
Htrnu-a stroking the long locks, almost as
dark m hers, continued: ‘Bo not mind mo
Constance, live in the present, child, only grey
hearts like mine need calculate the future. I
will never be loved steadfastly, because I am
M>t worthy of it I crave power, and when it
iffs mine throw it away. What pleasure in a
conquered possession? I know whhtyou #onld
say, but Ido notes re to subijue my wild na
ture, which will lead me to acts of which I
shudder to think now. If it does, Constance,
and lam cast off by my family,, and reviled by (
♦ . <