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276
THE SOUTHERN WORLD* JUNE 1,1884.
bridle Selim. I wish to send him home
to-night,” hurriedly ordered the yonng
'•ft
But what’s the matter, my child;
what does it all mean; are you going to
send Selim to Frank?” asked the
mother.
“ I will tell you, mother, in a moment,
let them hurry up with the horses. I
have not a minute to lose, and, now,
please wait on me a little while, mamma,
until I can write a couple of notes, and
then I can explain all,” and hurrying
by her mother the youn^ lady ran up to
her room and hastily scribbled a note to
Mrs. DeSaussure, and then as hastily
one to Miss Feaster.
By the time she had finished writing
the negroes were waiting her further
orders with the horses. Going out to
the gate she explained:
“ Sam this note is for Mrs. DeSaussure,
you will leave the horse there and can
walk back.”
“ Yes’em.”
“And, Ned, you will go down to the
overseer’s house and give, this note to
Miss Feaster; do you understand?”
“ Yes’em.”
“ Now, that is all; be off, both of you.”
“ Yes’emand off they both went in
a trot that would soon carry them over
the interlaying stretch of road.
•“And now, mamma, come up to my
room and I will tell you what it all
means,” she said turning to her mother
as she met her in the hall.
“ Yes, darling, for I am dying to
know,” and together they went into the
young lady’s room, when, almost word
for word she repeated the shameful rev
elation of Mrs. DeSaussure.
“ Darling, you have acted rightly. If
Frank DeSaussure has done this cruel
thing he is unworthy one pure thought
of my daughter; set him away out of
your life as you would put a loathsome
reptile out of your path. But—but—I—
I—can hardly believe it of him.”
“ I find it more cruel to believe it of
her.”
“ But can it be so? ”
“Had any one else than his mother
told me of this I should have spat in her
face for a vile slanderer.”
“ Poor Kate, it must have grieved her
to the soul to tell you,” said the sympa
thetic mother.
“No; she seemed to gloat over the
shame of the poor girl. You could see
the hate in her very soul.”
“Ah! she must hate her. I wonder
she has not driven them away long
ago.”
“ They are going.”
“Are they l then that confirms the
terrible truth. Poor Kate, I do pity
her,” sighed the mother. *
“ Poor Mary, poor girl. My heart pi
ties her; mother, she so young, so beau
tiful, and so sweet. Oh 1 I could help
to burn the wretched scoundrel,” and
the pretty, soft fists were clinched until
the blood actually started from the
palms.
“ Yes, it is sad; but think of what a
wreck she has made of poor Kate’s hope
of her pride and fortune 1 ”
“Ah 1 think of what a wreck he has
made of the poor girl’s life; think of the
beautiful soul trampled in the dust, and
she his proud mother gloating over her
shame as the fiend incarnate gloats over
the death of a human soul. Oh, I do
despise herl ”
“ Drucie, darling, do not be violent.
“ I am not violent—I have not been
I wonder at my own calmness; I won
der that I had the presence to restrain
my hands from clutching her soft, white
throat and strangling her as she stood
I had it in my heart to do it, mother
I almost blame my weakness for not do
ing it.”
“ Come, my child, this is extravagance
You must put such frenzied thoughts
away. They are unworthy the dignity
of a lady and are not befitting your own
sweet nature. For my part I do pity
the poor mother and almost doubt the
culpability of Frank.”
1 * Mother, ulease never mention that
name to me again. I cannot hear it
without a choking sense of shame and
disgust.”
“Very well; and, darling, it is best
that we never mention this subject again,
and especially best that no mention ever
be made of it outside the family. It is
a matter that cannot be safely talked
about.”
“No, I never expect to breathe it to
mortal again. I told you, mother, be
cause I thought it right for you to know.
It were well, perhaps, for you to tell
papa, and then it should rest.”
“Of course I shall tell your father
and get his opinion of Frank’s conduct.
He knows more about such things than
I do, and I should like his opinion before
judging the poor boy too harshly. But
come, darling, let me send Sally to you
and wash and let her dress you for sup-
G r; you look haggard and wearied, per-
ps you will feelbetter.”
“Yes, mother, if you please, send plause, although his justice did not
Sally. I wish to place my head in a reach far enough, extending only to the
cooling bath for it is fevered with ach- daughter of the brilliant Helen Middle-
ing.” ton, instead of reaching out protectingly
“Are you ill?” with a mother’s alert to the daughters of the most obscure
anxiety. “Let me send for Dr. Gaston?” and humble mothers in the land. Had
“Oh, no, nothing but a throbbing Miss Feaster been the daughter of
headache, ft will soon be over. I shall a less well bom lady than Helen Middle-
not go down to supper. Send me up a ton the old gentleman’s judgment would,
cup of tea. That is all I shall want to- two to one, have been cast against her
night.” and in favor of the gay young Southerner
“ Yes, I will bring it myself after Sal- who is supposed to have so cruelly used
has bathed and undressed you,” said her—but being the child of her, the
ihe mother, softly kissing her darling “loveliest woman that ever made a track
and going out, leaving her alone to sor- in Edgefield.” she was to be held sacred
row over the wretched crumbling of her in his chivalric honor—and Frank De-
idol—an idol worse than clay—an idol Saussure was the one who ought to be
of bitter ashes. cowhided by the avenging hand of Miss
In the few moments before supper Coleman. I wjnder how many others
Mrs. Coleman found time to draw her there are in this chivalric world of ours
husband aside and tell him all she had whose vision of justice sees no further,
been told. In the meantime Ned and Sam had
“ And now tell me, what do you think jogged on their way, overtaking Andy
about it? I have tried to view it from with the carriage just as he was turning
an impartial standpoint and I do not in the gate.
know hardly what to think of Frank. I As Miss Coleman left her in such a
don’t know whether he is so much to storm of wrath, Mrs. DeSaussure turned
blame or not. What do you think about into her room—strangely desolate and
it ?” lonely now. The last light had gone out
“ Well, I don’t know. I have never from her home, as the last love lay
seen this girl yet. Is she pretty ?” bleeding in her heart. Closing the door
“ Pretty 1 and pray what has her looks to shut out the curious ears of Dora, she
got to do with it?” threw herself on a sofa, and burying her
“ All in the world, my dear.” face in its pillows, she groaned aloud.
“ Humph 1 well, then, she is pretty. | “Ah, miserable, miserable me, what
As much like her mother as two peas.” have I so foolishly, rashly, wickedly
“ And who was her mother?” done? I have driven her from me—her
“ Oh, Helen Middleton. I thought I whom I did love as I love my own child
told you.” —and all because of that hateful girl.
“ Helen Middleton that used to be— Oh, Drucie, darling, will you ever come
Judge Middleton’s Helen?” back to me? Why have you forsaken
“Yes; the one that ran away with me? Why did you leave me to consort
i, ommod, » 'with this low girl?” iLna ctVtn n/\V\Vvn/1
her father’s overseer.
“ And this is her daughter?”
“Yes, and as much Tike Helen as I
last saw her at the Governor’s ball—as
one of your eyes is like the other.”
The proud lady winced undw «
blow. “ This is hard to take ” nho m the
mured, crushing the missive’in heffhT
gers, and then with her head bowed ?*
thought for a moment, she said: “ D ora
tell Jake to wait a moment, I must
to Rio Vista again to-night ” 8end
Turning to her table again she wrote •
Miss Coleman-I fear, from an exDre Rf «i™ '
your last missive, that you havs «i22L on . in
my complaints against Miss Farterif.to® IhS
inal accusation. I cannot recall all my VomI*
for they were hasty and spoken in * nZ „r orf1 *-
humiliation and anger, but for fear of
unfortunate expression may have esp^J me
lips susceptible of being so scandalous^™™ 7
construed, I write this to withdraw imd L~ l, r
any such word or expression . To^h2u>£Sk Ct
miliating length the unhappy infatuatkmof m
son may have ultimately reached, lam.tilih« 7
py in the consciousness that nothing has™
thus she sobbed
reproachfully, and then again, after a
moment, she burst out: “And this girl,
how I do hate her—hate her and her
mother—her haughty, proud mother,
“ Then I should say that Frank De- who used to look down .so patronizingly
Saussure is a d puppy and should upon me. Oh, how I wish I had never
be made to marry her as soon as they seen them. But they shall go. Notan-
can be brought face to face.” other day shall they shelter under roof
“Yes, that would be a just retribu- of mine. Oh, Frank, Frank, this is all
tion,” acquiesced the lady. your work,” and then she started, as it
“And a just restitution as well. Egad, flashed across her what Frank would
have a mind to take the mater in hand say should Drucie tell him. “ Oh, mis-
and make him do it myself.” erable me, what have I done? How can
“ Oh, could you?” with a little fright I meet his anger when he knows—and,
at the prospect of difficulty. oh, my God, what a shame I have put
“ If he didn’t I could blow his brains upon my own son. It must not, oh, it
out.” . must not be. I must explain to Drucie
“ Ugh 1” with a shiver. that I did not mean all that she thought
“ I believe I shall do it anyhow,” ex- I meant, and I did not—oh, no, I did not
citedly rising from his lazy chair. at first, only it came on and on, growing
“ Oh, no; we had better not interfere, more horrible like a fate, until I told her
Drucie has given him up and is as furi- too much; yes, yes, too much. I must
ous as you are, but it is no longer busi- recall it. I must explain. Foolish,
ness of ours and we had best not inter- foolish girl, why did you go away so
fere. It might be well, however, for you rashly? Why did you provoke me?
to let the Middletons know and they can Yes you, by your foolish defiance pro
hunt him down and compel him to mar- voked me into saying more than I in
ry her,” suggested the lady. tended to say. Oh, Drucie, you, you
“Damn the Middletons; they ought have treated me cruelly,” and thus in
to be shot themselves, the last devil of alternate self-reproach and piteous sub-
’ein, for their treatment of Helen. Why, terfuges she passed the hours away, not
Moll, don’t you know Helen was the heeding the call to supper, but laying
loveliest woman that ever made a track there in sobs and tears and moans,
in Edgefield?” At length the storm had spent itself,
“ Yes, Helen was a lovely woman and and with flushed cheeks and eyes red
a sweet one besides, and I do pity her— and swollen with weeping, she arose,
God knowB I do,” cried the gentle heart- and putting away the misery as best she
ed lady. “ But, darling, it is no use to could, went out among her household,
swear so about it.” A few moments later Sam knocked at
“ No, swearing can’t begin to do the steps for an audience,
matter justice. I feel more like fighting .Well, what ib it?”
and if 1 had Frank here I would take a L } B ®] ) . r0 1 ti “ e h° BB hack—Selim—an
pistol in one hand and his nose in the , e , 18 letter for you.”
other and would lead him and this girl A letter from Miss Coleman? Very
as straight to Parson Bowers as I could J Jake will take care of the horse
track it and make them man and wife You may go.
. . . . , “ Yes’em,” and disappointed of his
fee, the chapfallen darkey backed him
self out.
“ Yes, but he is not here, and they I With a flush she opened the note and
e going to carry the girl away, and if | rea( * :
her father does not choose to avenge his
dishonor it is none of our business. So
come to supper, dear, and not let us be
getting into trouble about that which
does not concern us, and which we can
not help if it did.”
before bed time, or my name is not Jon
athan Coleman. Egad, that’s what I
should do."
Madam—I return Selim. You can best ex
plain to your son the reason why I do it
Respectfully,
To Mrs. Catharine DeSau.fure 0 " C ° LEMAN ‘
“ Ugh 1” with a proud shaking of the
shoulders. “Very well, Miss Drucie
“But what does Drucie say about it? since it is the gage of
le pities the poor, sweet whelp of a down I accept it,” an<
>y cf course, and is ready to help his ble she wrote:
battle you throw
and drawing her ta
Mra. DeSaussure'a compliments tb Miss Cole-
nun. and tinnn Mlaa Dat- .
She
boy , —
mother tar and feather the impudent
hussy.” I man. and since Miss Coleman ls"so"kind* as'tn
“ No, Drucie blames Frank with it all re * ur P SeRm.wlu she be good enough to indi-
and is sorry for the girl. She is quite “ill mss^emSXA^litene..** 1 ^!
bitter against the DeSaussures.” swer by the bearer? fineness to an-
“Oh, is she? Then bully for Drucie. Enclosing in a dainty envelone
She’s a little trump anyway and I in- summoned Jake * veio P e she
tend to stand by her in this. I should “ Here, Jake, get on a mule and carrv
just like to give her a cowhide and stand this note to Miss Coleman.” '
by and make the whelp stand until she “ Yes’em.”
wore it out on him.” “ Miss Coleman will give you the an
“ I am afraid she would leave but lit- swer.” J Bn
tie for a handle were you to do it. She j a ke hunied away and in an hour was
is ternbly excited. I never saw a gir back with dispatch No. 3:
so violent. She has raved herself sick.” madam-i
“ She’s a darling, that’s what she is, the mere. KiAaving*iVifi a™
troubled you about
absolute
and if this thing hurts her I will make i did not consider* {ty^iVLu*-
Frank’s hide pay for it. You may de- ^^i^rthini’otKtS^w^uW Xjjfc
pend upon thftt* I that you hand her over to the t oor rirl
Now all good people will be ready to y° ur •OO has so Villainously wronged she haa
applaud the chivalric justness of the old TOSStaST hUSSKu?" “ yon# eU *
gentleman. I as heartily join in the ap- p " c Dauci* Coleman
girl. If you still wish it the mare “hall bl hand
ed over to her. Very respectfully d
Catharine DeSaussure
Jake hurried on the road again mu‘
tering as he went: “I golly, fin g8 is
gittm’ hot atwixt ’em. Wonder wat’a
pay. It’s ’bout Mass Frank, I bet •’
—libs Coleman read the letter with* a
genuine delight. It rolled such a heaw
burden from her soul—and in the glad-
ness of the moment she was almont
ready to forgive the cruel woman for the
offence she had done that girl. But no
the animus was there, and if the viper
was powerless to bite it was because it
had lost its fangs. She hastily wrote •
Mrs. DeSaussure-I hardly know which to
believe, your cruel accusation or its ungracious
retraction. However, as I have the sweet face
and pleading eyes looking from a soul too white
to be defiled to corroborate the retraction I ac
cept its truth, and in doing so must confess that
the saddest burden that ever weighed unon mv
life has been lifted. For the sake of theTwee*
girl whom your hate so cruelly slandered, I am
almost persuaded to thank you. I have nothin*
whatever to do with the mare.
Respectfully, Drucie Coleman'.
“Here, Jake, give this to your mis
tress, and here is a dollar for your ride.”
‘ * Tankee doodle, miss. Tankee dood
le.”
“ And, Jake, here is a little note I
wish you to carry to Miss Feaster. Can
you do it?”
“Yes’em, in corse I kin, an’ no’un
shall see it.”
Mrs. DeSaussure read the missive
with a quivering lip and trembling hand.
“Very well; I shall requi'e this in
sult. If I live I shall repay your bitter
words syllable for syllable,” she mur
mured, as holding it in the candle she
saw its red glow melt into ashes, and as
the ashes were scattered by a little
breath of wind that swept through the
windows, she felt that somehow or other
all her hopes of life were scattered.
Her Machiavelian arts had failed her.
She had pushed her venture one step
too far.
(to be continued.)
— »» 0»♦
Jerseys Around Augusta.
Augusta Chronicle and Conrtltutionalist.]
We are happy to learn that Colonel C. H.
Phinlzy is establishing a choice herd of selected
animals on his beautiful model farm, El Dorado,
on the eastern side of our city.
Colonel Phinizy received last week from New
York, a splendid imported animal, Tom Bette's
Delight, which, when only two years old, with
her first calf, gave eleven quarts of rich milk.
8he was successfully bred to Minnie’s Duke of
Darlington, the first cress through Eurotas of
Alphea and Stoke Pogis strains.
The character of Beulah stock farm, long
since established, is favorably known through
out the Unlted.States. At the head of this herd
stands the illustrious, prize winning, Sir Alfred,
of Darlington. Colonel Phinizy, appreciating
his great value as a butter producer, purchased
last week his son, Sir Alfred the Great, not quite
four months and a half old, at |700. This highly
bred and handsome youngster having been se
lected by the owner of the herd to take the
place of his noble sire when he had passed
away, could not have been bought for so small
a sum had not the proprietor reluctantly de
termined to part with his herd owing to press
of other business and frequent absence from
home.
The agricultural community is indebted to
Major Branch for having successfully establish
ed a Southern farm of the finest Jerseys, Berk-
shires, sheep, and other improved stock.
• —
Beebe, Ark., will ship this season 15.*
000 crates of strawberries, equal to IV
250 bushels. This is an average of 3< Jv
bushels per acre. Properly cultivated
the yield would be 250 bushels per acre,
which would give 75,000 bushels, having
a money value of over $100,000.
Many farmers in Kershaw county,
C., use kainit in the lowlands as a
tilizer for corn, at the rate of 100 P° un 8
per acre. It is said to be a sure means
of destroying bugs and other » n&eC
that prey upon young corn.
A four-year-old Jersey cow brou^t
$6,200 at auction in New York recent y-